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

Moving Day

Sally and Mort are away, filming.And Peter’s job has kept him out of town for the past week.Needless to say, the household has been (apart from Ivy Jean—sheof the gargantuan lungs) abnormally quiet.I’ve been thinking…Sally's and my Dad was a wildlife biologist, specializing in allcreatures cold. You know…penguins and polar bears and stuff. His studies kepthim at one pole or the other.Until I came along, Mom went with him on his adventures.After me, Mom simply kissed him and sent him on his way to explore alone.Okay, it probably wasn’t that simple. I’m quite sure therewere expressions of sadness, etc.I do remember some of the farewells. Cause we (Sally and I)were six when he left on his last mission.Before the ship he was on sank in the Antarctic somewhere.I remember Mom being really sad and watching out the windowa lot and jumping when the phone rang.I know Sally and I missed Dad. But, as we had only ever seenhim irregularly, Mom was our whole world.And as long as she was there, Sally and I were content.Two big changes that did manage to seep into our little girlawareness were the facts that Mom had to go to work. And we had to move.Yes. We noticed those.The house we moved into was smaller than the one we’d beenliving in, but comfortable. With a tiny garden and a streetful of kids to playwith.Moving into it was an adventure in itself.Of course, Mom and I had realized earlierthat Sally had a penchant for getting into trouble.I think ‘moving day’ just cemented those suspicions.In a large way.Let me tell you about it…The moving truck had disappeared down the street in a swirlof gas fumes, leaving Mom and us girls to unpack the boxes the two rather burlymovers had parked in our new house.Sally and I were having fun opening said boxes.Until Sally realized they were just filled with all our oldjunk from our old house.Then she lost interest.I’m quite sure you’ve realized by now that a bored Sally is an unpredictable Sally.A small group of kids came to the open door and peeked in at us.The biggest, a girl, spoke to Mom. “Hello! I’m Vivian! Canyour girls come out to play?”Mom smiled at her, then looked at the two of us—me, stillopening boxes, and Sally…not.“I’m quite sure they would love it,” Mom said. “They need abreak!”I straightened from the box I was currently exploring andstarted toward the door, but Sally beat me toit. “Hi! We’re Sally…” she put a hand on her chest, “…and Gwen. We’re IrishTwins. We’re six. Our Dad died.”Trust Sally to get the important stuff out in the first tenseconds.“Oh,” Vivian said. “Well, I’m Vivian and these guys areBlaine, Todd and Choteau.”Sally looked at the third boy. “Choteau is a weird name.”“I’m named after my sixth great-grandfather,” the boy said, proudly. “Agreat explorer. I’m going to be just like him!”For some reason, my mom looked up at that.Sally joined the others and the five of them disappeared.“Aren’t you going with them?” Mom asked me.I shrugged. “I think I’d rather stay with you.”Mom smiled. “Well, I do appreciate the help!”The two of us went back to work.I use this term lightly. Because 'work' on that day consisted of unpacking a bit...Then fishing Sally and her new friends out of one scrape after the other.Mom grabbed the lot of them just as they were starting across the street wearing the unpacked boxes.And no, none of them could see.And yes, there were cars passing.Mom confiscated all boxes into perpetuity.Then they somehow managed to shut one of Mrs. Ames' (yes, this was the first time we met her) cats into the closet.With spectacular results.Mom then forbade all cats into perpet-- you get the picture. Finally, things seemed to quiet down.I don't know about you, but that's when one should really start to worry.Both of us were in the upstairs bedroom thatwould soon be Mom's. She straightened, stretching her back. Then she cocked herhead to one side, listening. “What is that?” she asked.I frowned. “Ummmm…”Muffled voices from the first floor. Then shrieks andgiggles.Mom pushed open the window and looked down at the frontentryway.I heard a cry of triumph, then a thump.Mom gasped and headed for the bedroom door.I followed.If I knew Sally—and I did—something momentous was about tohappen…The stairway in our new house was tricky. It was builtalmost entirely into a box. Walls on either side and a third wall at thebottom. The only escape routes were on either side at the bottom.Mom blasted down that staircase like a pro, grabbed the cornerof the wall to her right and shot out into the living room without even slowingdown.It was kind of amazing, really.I was justifiably slower and arrived just in time to see Mommake a grab for…I think it was Todd…as he leaped off a chair and swung toward the frontdoorway.Using our front-room curtainsas a rope.Two other kids, notably Sally and Vivian, were alreadyoutside, standing in what would eventually be Mom’s flower bed, obviouslyhaving successfully completed the same maneuver.Mom missed and Todd sailed through the doorway.Sadly the curtains--and wall--not used to this form of abuse, chose that moment to effect a wholesale release.The entire section of dry wall from the window to the ceiling, along with the now-mangled curtain rod paraphernalia, sailed out the door with him.Or would have.If we had a bigger door.The resulting crash was truly spectacular.“Wow!” Sally said. “That waseven better than mine!”What should have been--in Sally's eyes--Todd’s triumph was dimmed somewhat by Mom charging towardthem, through the pile of debris that now cluttered her front doorway.I was behind her, but I could guess at the look on her faceby what was reflected on Todd and Vivian’s.“What are you kids doing?!” Mom said in her ‘usually-reserved-for-hollering-at-Sally-and-me-when-we’ve-done-something-naughty’voice.Sally shrugged. “Playing pirates.”“With my curtains?!!” Mom’s voice has risen dangerously.I was ready to run and I hadn’t even been involved.“Hey! We didn't get a turn!” a voice said, plaintively.Mom had started scraping the heap of rubble outside with her feet--like an angry bull.She spun around and pointed at the other two obviously disappointed boys, “OOOOOOOUT!”Their eyes on Mom, they quickly joined Sally and the others out front.Mom slammed the door.She looked at me. “Most of the boxes are still packed," she said, almost to herself. "We can justkeep moving.”Then she shook her head. “Nope. She’d just find us." She sighed. "If anyone needs me, I'll be under my bed. I have a headache."
Use Your Words is a writing challenge!Each month, I exchange words with our intrepid leader, Karen of Baking in a Tornado.Neither of us knows what the other will do with her words.This month, Karen gave me: headache ~ twin ~ door ~ curtain ~ wowThank you, my friend!Care to read more?
BakingIn ATornado 

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