Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 11

What Day is it?

With special days all through the year to celebrate the great and small,

It’s sometimes difficult to choose a single topic from them all,

With things like ‘Ice Cream Sandwich Day’ and ‘Girlfriend’s Day’, to name a few,

And ‘Tell a Joke Day’, ‘Bow Tie Day’. And don’t forget ‘Spumoni’, too!

There’s ‘Single Working Women’s Day and ‘Be an Angel Day’ as well,

And ‘Kiss and Make Up Day’ (to follow that one day of ‘Kiss and Tell’!)

‘Work Like a Dog Day’s’ special too. And while we’re on that subject, there,

There’s ‘Dog Appreciation Day’ for those with dogs for whom they care.

We’ve ‘Sister’s Day’ and ‘Lover’s Day’ and ‘Son and Daughter Day’ besides,

And even one called ‘Lighthouse Day’ for those who love to watch the tides!

There’s hundreds more for all of us, a ‘Day of Beer’ and ‘Day of Sun’,

A ‘Fresh Breath Day’ and one for ‘Hoyle’ and one for ‘Middle Child’ fun.

But with them all, we chose the one that spoke to each of us for sure,

Not ‘Creamsicles’ or ‘Eat Ouside’ or ‘Chocolate Pecan Pie’s’ allure,

I’m sure you’d like to know the champ. (And yes, I feel like such a tease!)

It’s ‘Relaxation Day’ today! I get to catch up on my ZZZZZZZZZ’s

Staying Alive

Today is Husby’s birthday. His 69th. I had many stories to choose from to honour him.I chose this one. There are a lot of ‘almosts’ here.But it ends well...
I love Nutella.For many reasons.
This is the main one . . . Sometimes, miracles are tasty!Ten years ago . . .My Husby had been ill.

Scary ill.

We first noticed it in September.

He was . . . tired.

Through October and November, he just couldn't seem to get enough rest.

We attributed it to the fact that he was busy producing yet another play for our drama society.

A stressful job.The play closed on November 21st and we were on the road for a book-signing tour on the 24th.

No time for rest.

By the time we returned home two weeks later, he was very ill, indeed.

But he concluded that he was simply overtired and determined to get some real rest.

Which stretched into sleeping twenty hours a day.

And giving up food.

A rather important part of every day, in my mind.

In a two week period, he lost fifteen pounds.

I finally decided to ignore his protestations and made an appointment with our physician.

Who immediately ordered him into the emergency room.

Where they began pumping blood into him.

The next few days were touch and go as they tried to treat him/determine just what the problem was.

They finally decided that his body was systematically attacking and destroying his blood.

Not good.

Throughout this time, he still wasn't eating.

Nothing appealed.

They finally sent him home from the hospital, but with strict instructions to come back every day for more testing/treatments.

And to start eating.

Sigh.

Still nothing appealed.

Finally, as he was rummaging through the cupboard, he discovered a jar of Nutella, mostly full.

I should mention, here, that Grant lived in France for two years before we were married. Nutella was a habit he brought back with him.Huh. Holding the familiar jar, it suddenly looked . . . good.

He spread it on a piece of homemade bread and took a bite.

It was good.

Over the next couple of days, he went through that jar of Nutella.

Sometimes spread on a bit of bread.

Sometimes on a banana.

Sometimes with a spoon.

Then he bought more.

And ate those.

He was finally eating.

I don't know what they put in Nutella.

Hazelnuts and chocolate and yumminess. And, let's face it, if you spread Nutella on a hubcap, I'd eat it.

But there must be some other secret goodness in there, because it brought him back from the brink.

And I do mean brink.

He calls it the Nutella Protocol.

I call it a miracle in a bottle.

It kept his motor running. Taken the day before he went into hospital.
P.S. Husby still struggles with this health problem. Pernicious Anaemia.
But with regular treatments, he is able to live a completely normal life.
Well...regular treatments that include regular 'applications' of  Nutella!

My Very Own Teddy

When I was young, the dark I feared,

My brothers teased and thought me weird,

I sighed and recognized my lot,

Imagination’s what I’d got.
Then Mama gave me something warm,

Just to protect me from the storm,

And from the creatures of the dark,

That under my small bed were parked.

‘Twas plump and cuddly, soft and sweet, It blotted tears, caressed my cheeks,

When monsters came (at close of day),

I cuddled hard—they went away.

I called it ‘Teddy’, ‘cause it was,

A Teddy Bear with furry paws,

And so together he and me,

We grew as close as friends could be.

And time went on and then I grew

Got married to a boy I knew,

But though much older, I’d not outgrown,

That fear of darkness that I'd known,

I had no bear to cuddle with,

Protect me from my monster myths,

But then I found I’d something more,

To stop those monsters at the door.

My marriage gave me someone warm,

Just to protect me from the storm,

And from the creatures of the dark,

That under my large bed were parked.

He’s not fuzzy, but he's sweet,

He blots my tears, caresses cheeks,

When monsters come (at close of day),

I cuddle hard—they go away.

So though I don’t have Teddy now,

It doesn’t matter anyhow,

‘Cause what I have is far more 'good',

Than what I had in childhood!
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So  Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Need to express your mood a bit?Emojis will take care of it!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)...
Teddy Bears (July 10) Today!Emojis (July 17)Cousins (July 24)Avocados (July 31)Moonshine (August 7)Roses (August 14)Sea Monsters (August 21)At the Beauty Parlour/Parlor (August 28)

21,667 Days Later

Denver made good.Maybe I should explain…This first part, most of you have heard before. But I’ll recap…When I was 10, the big thing was the Superball.Everyone wanted one.I wanted one more than I wanted my first ‘big’ horse.And you have to know I wanted that horse a lot!But for some reason, I just never got one.The Superball, that is.Though I did pester.I did.Then, without warning, the stars suddenly aligned.We were on our way to the National Western Livestock Show in Denver, Coloradoto…you know…show cattle.We had stopped briefly—truck, trailer and all—to pick up something at alocal mall.And when Daddy came out he was carrying (I am not making this up) aSUPERBALL!!!For me!Forgive me while I remember briefly how I felt:EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!I unwrapped it in truly record time and held my holy grail carefullywhile we drove the last few miles to the fair grounds.Then, still clutching it tightly, I walked into the vast caverns thatwere the show barns.Picture it: Rows upon rows of short walls with cattle tied and beddeddown on each side.Here’s a picture so you can really grasp it... I stood there in the center of the first alley and looked way, way upto the distant ceiling.This was the place where I could really get some height for my newlittle wonder.I raised my hand, grinning at the thought of just how far this littlemiracle would go…Then threw it down with everything I had.It did go far.It bounced off the cement floor and I think it very nearly touched thataforementioned distant ceiling.Then it came down.And this is where I should probably mention a thing called:forethought.Erm…I didn’t have any.That ball came down.And landed in one of those vast piles of straw.In that equally vast building.Somewhere.In order to shorten this already overlong story (too late), I’llmention, here, that I never did find it.Though I did invade numerous ranchers’ spaces to search.Sigh.Tears were shed.And life went on…Recently, Husby and I were on a sailing in the Mediterranean.It was perfect.Perfect weather. Perfect food. Perfect sights.Perfect new friends.Two of them, Steve and Carol were from (this probably won’t come as asurprise) Denver!I told them my woeful little Superball story and they shed figurativetears of sympathy.Then the conversation shifted to other topics.But they hadn’t forgotten.A day or so later, they came back from exploring the Greek Countrysideand accompanying town wearing big grins and handed me…wait for it…aSUPERBALL!!!59 years, 3 months and 26 days OR 711 months, 26 days OR 21,667days (give a day or two) after I lost my first one.Yep.Denver made good.

Nearly Scammed

From my Husby!Okay, it’s not true. I just thought it was funny . . . A deep thinker, this man . . .Subject: Scam warning! Home DepotA 'heads up' for those men who may be regular Home Depot customers. This one caught me by surprise.Over the last month I became a victim of a clever scam while out shopping. Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to be quite traumatic. Don't be naive enough to think it couldn't happen to you or your friends.Here's how the scam works: Two seriously good-looking 20-21 year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping into the trunk. They both start wiping your windshield with a rag and Windex, with their breasts almost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look. When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say 'No' and instead ask you for a ride to McDonalds. You agree and they get in the backseat. On the way, one of them climbs over into the front seat and starts hugging and kissing you, while the other one steals your wallet.I had my wallet stolen May 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th, & 24th, 29th. Also June 1st, 4th, twice on the 8th, three times last Saturday and very likely again this upcoming weekend.
So tell your friends to be careful.
P.S. Walmart has wallets on sale $2.99 each.

Bridge. Mixed

Portion of a painting by George Hughes . . . My parents were having a Bridge party.
Something that was very popular in the Sixties.

The house had been cleaned, top to bottom until everything sparkled like a new penny.I should mention here that I’ve always wondered why, when company was coming over, my Mom felt it necessary to clean absolutely every surface in our home.

Was she really expecting her guests to go wandering into the storage rooms or laundry room?

Were they actually going to notice the fingerprints on the downstairs bedroom wall?

But, already, I digress . . .

Several card tables had been set up in the front room.

Each with four chairs.

A deck of cards.

Pad of paper.

Pencil.

And the all-important, easily snitched from, dish of treats.

Usually mixed nuts.

Or (cue exciting music . . .) bridge mix.

Mmmmm.

Have you ever eaten bridge mix?

The chocolate-coated voyage to tasty yummy-ness?

It’s an adventure in itself.

There are mint, orange, and Irish crème flavored pieces coated in dark chocolate; peanuts, raisins, caramels, and Turkish delight in milk chocolate.

The adventure comes in finding one that you like.

Because some of them can fool you . . .

My favourites? The orange, Irish crème, peanuts and caramels.

The others? Ick.

At first, the only way to tell was by size and shape, but that can be deceiving. The raisins, for example, can fool you into thinking they’re peanuts.

Taste was the next option.

But Mom and Dad protested, sometimes violently, when they discovered treats with little nibbles taken out of the sides.

Then returned to the dish.

I know. Parents are weird.

But there was no way I was ever going to chance my taste buds coming into contact with something as icky as Turkish delight.

Or mint.

Raisins and I also have a history. (Seehere)

Finally, I came up with a solution.

If you squeezed the candies gently, they cracked just enough for you to get a glimpse of their soft centre.

If the colour denoted icky-ness, you could, by squeezing in the opposite direction, return them to their original shape.

Genius!

Caution: May contain icky piecesWe won’t go into the fact that we kids weren’t even supposed to be in the front room.

Let alone snitching from the candy dishes.

Moving on . . .

I don’t know if people still have bridge parties. 

Judging by the cries of excitement or dismay that emanated from the room, they were an immense source of fun and dismay in equal parts. 

Myself, I never learned to play the game.But I do remember the treats.

Medieval-ly Yours

First things first: Happy Independence Day to all my American Brothers and Sisters!I hope you have a wonderful day full of celebration.And I hope the weather gods smile upon you!
Our own national celebration was a few days ago.July 1.Canada Day.For years, our family celebrated with a grand Medieval Feast.The one in which everyone dresses up...erm...medieval-ly, and then has a great feast wherein everyone gets a bread trencher (that serves as both plate and sop), a bowl of gravy (for something to sop), and a knife.And also plays really old games--some with a new twist.Covid put the brakes on it.But this year, we broke out and decided to have a go.The weather was 'iffy', but we had a few minutes outside to joust and ax-throw.It was just SO FUN to be doing this again!This was the result...
Everyone having a marvelous time! (erm...)
Your utensils, Milady. (Okay, yes, I cheated this year.
In years past I made the trenchers. This year, we got pitas...
Bread is bread. Right?)
This is a photo of feasts past.
The weather didn't cooperate this year!
Another shot of everyone!
Note the two little dragons...
(Please excuse the lack of focus. Medieval cameras can be so capricious!)
Yes, there are two grandchildren in that 'horse'.



The dragons were the first to give out.

Despite the rain and the fact that not everyone could come, we had a grand time.This Grandma was very happy!Stay tuned for bigger and better next year!

Mirror'd

My mirror told me thatI had an entertainment ‘glow’,Then it clarified: Ihave a face for radio!
A mirror will neverlie. Let’s face it, it would be uncouth,But, trust me, it canbe selective how it tells the truth!
I think my mirrorneeds glasses, ‘cause it fills me with distressTo see myself therelooking like a big ol’ blurry mess!
“Wanna see somethingscary?” said my mirror (once) to me,Showed a reflection ofmy bank account. More scary cannot be!
My mirror advised moremakeup on my face. Said, ‘Just because’,I said to stopreflecting back so many of my flaws!
I really love mymirror, cause without it I’d not see,Reflections of thehappy girl I really want to be!
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So  Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Next week, there's no muss or fuss...When Teddy Bears, we will discuss!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)...
Mirrors (July 3) Today!Teddy Bears (July 10)Emojis (July 17)Cousins (July 24)Avocados (July 31)Moonshine (August 7)Roses (August 14)Sea Monsters (August 21)At the Beauty Parlour/Parlor (August 28)

Unhelpful

Thetwo men stood there, staring,Theirtask quite beyond their ken,Itwould have been so easy,Witha ladder. And a pen.
Taskedas they were with gaugingJusthow tall the flag pole was,Butlacking proper tools, you know,Thetask had given pause.
Thenfinally, a passerby,Shenoticed how they stared,Shethought that she could help them both,Thisgirl had come prepared!
Andtaking wrench and muscle,Sheloosed a bolt or three,Thenlaid that pole upon the ground,Andgot down on her knees…
Thencarefully, she measured it,T’wastwenty-six feet, just,Shenodded to the men and left,Theystared back with disgust.
“Shedidn’t help at all, you know!”One,to the other, said.“Whatwe needed what the flagpole’s height.Shegave the width, instead!”
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"We write because she's the Bee's Knees!And we love her, you know that’s true,So this is what we writers do . . .We craft a poem based on a theme,With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,Each month we write and have such funWe can't wait for another one,With FLAGS this month, how did I do?Please go and see the others, too:
BakingIn A Tornado: Seeing RedMessymimi’sMeanderings

Shooting

In honour of International Camera Day: Cameras
I received my first camera the Christmas I was nine.

Together with one film.

A twelve exposure.

I hoarded those pictures judiciously. Carefully.

Only taking pictures of very, very special occasions.

And then, only when conditions were especially perfect.

Not.

I used up that first film in 32 seconds flat.

We had pictures of wrapping paper.

Kids admiring just-opened gifts nestled in a pile of wrapping paper.

And Mom stuffing more of said wrapping paper into the trash.

Okay, I admit it. Wrapping paper was the most exciting thing I could come up with.

Which says something about my life.

I should also mention, here, that my camera also came with a packet of little bulbs that you could press, one by one, into the flash. After they had been used, you pressed a little button and they would be forcibly ejected. This was an especially handy feature when brothers were hanging about. It’s amazing just how fast a brother can move when he has been shot with a little bulb of flaming-hot, molten glass.

Just FYI.

Moving on . . .

For the next few years, I snapped pictures of friends.

Doing . . . stuff.

Of pets.

Mine and other people's.

And vacations.

Most of them blurry and unrecognizable.

“Okay, this is a shot of Great Aunt Maud. Or of Old Faithful. Take your pick.”

In college, I was handed a ‘real’ camera.

With dials and buttons and switches.

And sent forth into the hinterland to ‘take some shots’.

Yikes.

I will admit that my picture-taking had improved.

Vastly.

Now, people were easily differentiated from, say, cakes.

And my basketball players looked like basketball players.

Not the LCC square-dancing team they were usually mistaken for.

On or off the court.

*snort*In fact, my picture-taking skills had improved so much that I was given the position of official photographer in our Journalism class.

A promotion that came with its own dark room.

Yessiree. On any given Tuesday evening, I could be found in my darkroom.

Developing.

Now why does everyone smile when I say that?

It’s true.

I was developing.

Okay, yes, I usually had a young man in there with me.

But, inevitably, their idea of what goes on in a darkroom and mine were vastly different.

Hmmm. I think I know now why they looked so surprised when I told them to, and I quote, “Sit over there and stay out of my way!”

Back to my story. . .

Following college, I was given a ‘point-and-shoot’. A camera that guaranteed perfect pictures. Without any input from me.

Perfect.

For several years, it faithfully recorded early years of marriage. Baby arrivals. And family life.

With one ore two side trips into ‘someplace green’.

Until that momentous occasion when it died.

Never to go again.

After a normal grieving period, I got another point-and-shoot.

Digital.

No more films.

No more trips to the store, picking up or dropping off.

That little camera and I were inseparable.

Until that day.

When I got my new phone.

This was why.

Edmonton, Alberta at sunset.Of course things have continued to improve, but I will stop there for now.I admit that I sometimes think back to my little flashbulbs.

And the ejector that was so effective.

But only fleetingly.