Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 2
October 18, 2024
Of Wits and WITches
Okay, I’ve officially interred this story as Chapter One in“Bad Parenting 101’.I will explain.But first a little background...
Hansel and Grethel lived happily in the woods withtheir parents. A papa who made his living—what else?—cutting wood and amama who stayed at home and made delicious things to eat and loved herfamily.But, sadly, their sweet and gentle mama got sick anddied.A year or so later, their kind papa married again.Their stepmother was not like the mama they hadlost. Oh, she was a ‘sturdy’ individual. Strong and hard working. The house wasclean and meals on time.But she was not what you would call ‘affectionate’.So Hansel and Grethel, though clean and well-fed,always went to their kind papa for snuggles and stories.And were nearlyas happy as before.Then ‘hard times’ came.
And that's where our story starts...
As the countryside grew poorer, though everyone stillneeded firewood, no one could pay. Instead, they sent their sons (and a fewdaughters) into the woods to cut their own wood.Thus the official woodcutter—though he was very goodat his job—grew very poor indeed. And his family along with him.Finally, they were looking at their last few crusts ofbread.Now remember when I said their stepmother wasn’t ‘affectionate’?Well, that comes into play here.One night, after the children had been put to bedwithout their supper, the SM told her husband, “We are starving. But there willbe more for me—and maybe you—if there are fewer mouths to feed.”Who even thinks like that?!I’m picturing the look on his face.I know what myexpression would be…Moving on…It takes—quite literally—all night, but the womanfinally convinces him that they should take the children into the woods andabandon them there. I think he gave in just to shut her up.What are your thoughts?Now there was one littlehiccup in her plan.It was overheard.By littleears.Hansel, unable to sleep, heard every word. And thatwas a lot of words.Being a clever boy, he crept out of the hut andgathered the white pebbles shining in the moonlight.Who’s with me in thinking all would have been well ifthey’d just fed said pebbles to the SM? I mean...it worked with Red Riding Hood.Just sayin'.Sigh.Back to my story…The next day, the two parents announced—one brightly,one…erm…not—that they were going for a picnic in the woods.Things rolled out as the SM had planned: long trekalong almost-non-extant trails. Fire built. Children told to wait while parents‘did something else’.And, along about nightfall, the children realizing they had been abandoned in the woods.But clever little Hansel had dropped pebbles besidethe trail during their long walk from their hut and, when the moon rose, they were clearly visible.The two littles easily found their way home byfollowing them.To their father’s joy.And their SM’s…erm…not-joy.But remember when I said this woman was ‘sturdy’. Well, she was also persistent.Undeterred, the next day, she again enacted her plan.Second time’s the charm, right?This time, Hansel, unable to pick up pebbles becausehis SM had locked the door and was sleeping on the key, used bits of his pieceof bread—oh, I forgot, each of the littles had pieces of bread for their ‘picnic—tomake a trail home.Yadda, yadda, yadda…abandoned.This time, they were unable to find their way homebecause the birds in the woods had found and devoured their tasty littlesignposts.Dratted birds.The littles simply wandered around until they finallyfell asleep.The next morning, when they awoke, they saw, to their relief,a funny little cottage peeking out between the trees.They hurried to it and discovered that it was made outof bread and cake and other yummy things. With spun sugar for the windows.Okay, I don’t know about you, but if I was starvingand came upon a little edible house, I’d be munching first and asking questionslater.Which is what they did.Soon a little old lady came out—yes, someone lived inthat little house.I have one thing to say…rain.Moving on…She was quite hospitable at first.But all that changed after the kids had eaten theirfill and were fast asleep in soft beds, dreaming of little edible houses.I have a question…How would one ‘clean’ such a place?I mean, I’ve tried to brush the dirt off of a piece of bread with little to nosuccess.And what would the dust-bunnies be? Cotton Candy? (Letme just say that this would the answer to all my childhood dreams.)Back to our story…While they slept, the old woman—actually a nasty,child devouring witch—carried poor, unsuspecting Hansel to her dungeon. Withthe intent to fatten him up and…you know…devour.And Grethel was forced to do the feeding.This went on for some time.The meals were good.And plentiful.Which begs the whole question: if the witch had somuch food to stuff into Hansel, why didn’t she just eat that? Why capture achild at all? Hmmm…?Oh, well, if we’d wanted reality we’d simply watch thenews.Every day the witch would ask Hansel to stick a fingerout of his cage so she could see how fat he was getting.Subtle, she wasn’t.He simply stuck out a bone from a past meal.The witch, unable to see very well, accepted said boneat face value. So to speak.And kept feeding him.Finally, as he didn’t seem to be gaining weight, sheran out of patience.Lighting the fire under the ‘big’ oven, she askedGrethel to check the heat.But Grethel, though she doesn’t get much of thespotlight, was as clever as her brother. Standing back, she simply said, “Please showme how to do that?”I have to tell you that I got away with somethingsimilar whenever my mom would ask me to any household chores.True story.Ahem...The witch—hopelessly outmatched in this game of wits,showed Grethel how to climb into the oven to check it for heat.At which time, Grethel simply…shut the door.I know the witch's death was distinctly unpleasant, but, let’sface it…she was sort of asking for it.Grethel wasted no time in freeing Hansel and the twoof them—justifiably, I think—ransacked the house to see if there was anythingworth taking.And discovered chests of jewels, etc.Which they lightened considerably into capaciouspockets.Then they skedaddled, finally finding their way home.(Oh, there is a little side story about a kindly duck who sails them across a great pond, but we'll discuss that another time.)Where their father, now a sad and broken—and single—mansat, grieving.There are several opinions on what happened to hissecond wife. Some say she died. Some say she left because:A. Even with the children gone, there wasn’t enough toeat.Or B. She had to go find herself.Or C. Let’s just face it…the ending is better withouther…The children and their father had a grand reunion andan almost-immediate trip to the grocery store because—a-fortune-in-jewels.And the three of them lived satiated-ly ever after.
The End.
Hansel and Grethel lived happily in the woods withtheir parents. A papa who made his living—what else?—cutting wood and amama who stayed at home and made delicious things to eat and loved herfamily.But, sadly, their sweet and gentle mama got sick anddied.A year or so later, their kind papa married again.Their stepmother was not like the mama they hadlost. Oh, she was a ‘sturdy’ individual. Strong and hard working. The house wasclean and meals on time.But she was not what you would call ‘affectionate’.So Hansel and Grethel, though clean and well-fed,always went to their kind papa for snuggles and stories.And were nearlyas happy as before.Then ‘hard times’ came.
And that's where our story starts...
As the countryside grew poorer, though everyone stillneeded firewood, no one could pay. Instead, they sent their sons (and a fewdaughters) into the woods to cut their own wood.Thus the official woodcutter—though he was very goodat his job—grew very poor indeed. And his family along with him.Finally, they were looking at their last few crusts ofbread.Now remember when I said their stepmother wasn’t ‘affectionate’?Well, that comes into play here.One night, after the children had been put to bedwithout their supper, the SM told her husband, “We are starving. But there willbe more for me—and maybe you—if there are fewer mouths to feed.”Who even thinks like that?!I’m picturing the look on his face.I know what myexpression would be…Moving on…It takes—quite literally—all night, but the womanfinally convinces him that they should take the children into the woods andabandon them there. I think he gave in just to shut her up.What are your thoughts?Now there was one littlehiccup in her plan.It was overheard.By littleears.Hansel, unable to sleep, heard every word. And thatwas a lot of words.Being a clever boy, he crept out of the hut andgathered the white pebbles shining in the moonlight.Who’s with me in thinking all would have been well ifthey’d just fed said pebbles to the SM? I mean...it worked with Red Riding Hood.Just sayin'.Sigh.Back to my story…The next day, the two parents announced—one brightly,one…erm…not—that they were going for a picnic in the woods.Things rolled out as the SM had planned: long trekalong almost-non-extant trails. Fire built. Children told to wait while parents‘did something else’.And, along about nightfall, the children realizing they had been abandoned in the woods.But clever little Hansel had dropped pebbles besidethe trail during their long walk from their hut and, when the moon rose, they were clearly visible.The two littles easily found their way home byfollowing them.To their father’s joy.And their SM’s…erm…not-joy.But remember when I said this woman was ‘sturdy’. Well, she was also persistent.Undeterred, the next day, she again enacted her plan.Second time’s the charm, right?This time, Hansel, unable to pick up pebbles becausehis SM had locked the door and was sleeping on the key, used bits of his pieceof bread—oh, I forgot, each of the littles had pieces of bread for their ‘picnic—tomake a trail home.Yadda, yadda, yadda…abandoned.This time, they were unable to find their way homebecause the birds in the woods had found and devoured their tasty littlesignposts.Dratted birds.The littles simply wandered around until they finallyfell asleep.The next morning, when they awoke, they saw, to their relief,a funny little cottage peeking out between the trees.They hurried to it and discovered that it was made outof bread and cake and other yummy things. With spun sugar for the windows.Okay, I don’t know about you, but if I was starvingand came upon a little edible house, I’d be munching first and asking questionslater.Which is what they did.Soon a little old lady came out—yes, someone lived inthat little house.I have one thing to say…rain.Moving on…She was quite hospitable at first.But all that changed after the kids had eaten theirfill and were fast asleep in soft beds, dreaming of little edible houses.I have a question…How would one ‘clean’ such a place?I mean, I’ve tried to brush the dirt off of a piece of bread with little to nosuccess.And what would the dust-bunnies be? Cotton Candy? (Letme just say that this would the answer to all my childhood dreams.)Back to our story…While they slept, the old woman—actually a nasty,child devouring witch—carried poor, unsuspecting Hansel to her dungeon. Withthe intent to fatten him up and…you know…devour.And Grethel was forced to do the feeding.This went on for some time.The meals were good.And plentiful.Which begs the whole question: if the witch had somuch food to stuff into Hansel, why didn’t she just eat that? Why capture achild at all? Hmmm…?Oh, well, if we’d wanted reality we’d simply watch thenews.Every day the witch would ask Hansel to stick a fingerout of his cage so she could see how fat he was getting.Subtle, she wasn’t.He simply stuck out a bone from a past meal.The witch, unable to see very well, accepted said boneat face value. So to speak.And kept feeding him.Finally, as he didn’t seem to be gaining weight, sheran out of patience.Lighting the fire under the ‘big’ oven, she askedGrethel to check the heat.But Grethel, though she doesn’t get much of thespotlight, was as clever as her brother. Standing back, she simply said, “Please showme how to do that?”I have to tell you that I got away with somethingsimilar whenever my mom would ask me to any household chores.True story.Ahem...The witch—hopelessly outmatched in this game of wits,showed Grethel how to climb into the oven to check it for heat.At which time, Grethel simply…shut the door.I know the witch's death was distinctly unpleasant, but, let’sface it…she was sort of asking for it.Grethel wasted no time in freeing Hansel and the twoof them—justifiably, I think—ransacked the house to see if there was anythingworth taking.And discovered chests of jewels, etc.Which they lightened considerably into capaciouspockets.Then they skedaddled, finally finding their way home.(Oh, there is a little side story about a kindly duck who sails them across a great pond, but we'll discuss that another time.)Where their father, now a sad and broken—and single—mansat, grieving.There are several opinions on what happened to hissecond wife. Some say she died. Some say she left because:A. Even with the children gone, there wasn’t enough toeat.Or B. She had to go find herself.Or C. Let’s just face it…the ending is better withouther…The children and their father had a grand reunion andan almost-immediate trip to the grocery store because—a-fortune-in-jewels.And the three of them lived satiated-ly ever after.
The End.
September 20, 2024
Lamb Dreaming
Sooo cute!
Mary had a little lamb, Whose fleece was white as snow,And everywhere that Mary went,
the lamb was sure to go.
Itfollowed her to school one day
which was against the rules.
Itmade the children laugh and play,
to see a lamb at school.
And so the teacher turned it out,
but still it lingered near,
Andwaited patiently about,
till Mary did appear.
“Whydoes the lamb love Mary so?”
the eager children cry.
“Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know.”
the teacher did reply.
Okay, so…firstoff, as a child, I always wanted a lamb for a pet.
True story.
I just wanted toget that out there.
On with our poem…
The first linessay that Mary’s lamb had a fleece as white as snow.
Now I’ve seenlambs. And their fleeces are never that white. In point of fact, they areusually rather gray. Or downright mud-coloured.
Moving on…
The next parttalks about that lamb following Mary everywhere.
I reiterate. I wanteda little lamb with soft fleece who would follow me everywhere.
Just sayin’.
Then we are to thepart where that sparkling, clean lamb followed Mary to school. Now I couldtotally get behind this.
Lambs at schoolwould definitely have made the days a little less…I don’t know…scholastic? Anda lot more fun.
But, let’s faceit, me having a lamb follow me to school would be no small feat as we lived 20miles from town and rode the bus! He would either have to be a superbly nimble littlecreature or I would have to get a lot better at hiding things that weren’tsupposed to be on a bus with 20 or so children aged 5 to 17.
I did make it allthe way with a snake in my pocket once, but that is another story.
And I digress…
So this teacher,whoever she was, got tired of the chaos and turned that little lamb out.
Now what does shehave against laughing, playing children?
Kill joy.
But that littlelamb was not only sparkling clean, it was also smart. (We are talkingfiction, here.) It hung around patiently until it was time for Mary to go home.
I’m picturing the joyousramble as the two headed off to familiar pastures for the day.
Happy girl. Happylamb.
Now the laughing,playing (see above) kids, witnessing this, had a question for their teacher. “Whydoes the lamb love Mary so?”
And the teacherhad a ready response, “Because Mary loves the lamb, you know.”
Now, I probablydon’t have to tell you that all of this was in my (Please, May I Have a Lamb?) presentationto my father.
But I’m quite sureyou’ve heard of the sometimes animosity between the sheepherders and the cattleranchers of the great prairies of the ‘west’.
And I don’t haveto tell you which side my Daddy was on…
My chances ofgetting lamb for a pet were slim to nil.
But that didn’tstop me dreaming…
He even met the Queen!
She took him when she went to school
He sat there on the bus.
The children would politely play,
And never made a fuss.
The teacher understood that Di
Needed 'Lambie' near,
To help her with her algebra,
And chemistry. ( The dear!)
The lambie loved Diane, you know,
The children saw that she
Also loved the little lamb
Up to the nth degree!
Sigh.
Fly on the Wall is an opportunity, once a month, for my blogging sisters and me to let you into our hearts and/or minds.For better or worse...How did I do this month?Now keep the fun going! Check out my sisters' posts!August 23, 2024
Wee Willy's Parenting Pointers
WeeWillie Winkie runs through the town,Upstairs and downstairs, in his nightgown;
Rapping at the window, crying through thelock,
“Are the children in their beds?
Now it’s eight o’clock. ”
Okay. First off, who is this‘Willie Winkie’ guy?
With his only two descriptors: weeand in his nightgown, much is left to the imagination.
Allowing those of us with a large storeof it to come up with countless possibilities…
Let’s go with the obvious. Wee andnightgown suggest to me that he is really small—perhaps a child?
And if so, how come he’s not inbed. Hmmm?
That is like the person who hands thepriest a list of people who didn’t close their eyes or fold their hands reverentlyduring a prayer at church. This always begs the question: How did he make thelist?
But I digress…
We may also surmise by the whole ‘upstairsand downstairs’ scenario that Willie is very mobile, which also suggests youth.
I know if it were up to me to runupstairs and downstairs in my nightgown, exactly one household may bealerted. The rest are on their own.
And, just for the record, I don’t evenappear out of my own bedroom in my nightgown. Also: as a senior,I’m probably in bed long before the children.
So there’s that.
Now, the whole ‘rapping at the window’ part.
If anyone rapped at my window, itwould wake me from a coma.
So what window is Willie knockingat? If it’s the children’s, I’m coming out with a baseball bat.
Just sayin’.
And the whole ‘calling through thelock’? Okay, yes, the old locks were basically holes in the door. The modernday lock is not in the least conducive to being called through. Or evenshouted.
Ever tried it?
You can take my word.
And if anyone is calling throughthe hole in my door, I’m calling the cops.
And who does he think he is? Demandingthat the children be in their beds by 8 o’clock?
Isn’t that a rather negativecommentary on people’s parenting skills?
I mean, even a truant officer canonly pick on children during the daylight hours.
True story.
So, Wee Willie Winkie, if you’rethinking of trying these games in the modern world, I can just see the outrage!
And the comments on whateverFacebook ‘discussion’ page you currently peruse.
“Did anyone else record some smalldude in a dress running through your yard? My alarm system went off rightaround 8 PM last night right in the middle of Desperate Housewives and this is what it caught:
[Follows: grainy and creepy nightvideo of someone flitting across the yard]
He was knocking on the windows andshouting something unintelligible at the front door. Scared both my cat and mykids so badly that I couldn’t get any back into bed. My camera didn’t get a clearview of his face. Did anyone else have something similar happen?
Comments?”
Yep. I can picture it well.
I think poor Wee Willie needs amodern-day do-over…
W. William Winkie [ Ph.D/Psy.D/MFT/MFCC] works in the town,
Here on Nightgown Avenue; upstairs or down
You needn’t try the window, his door is neverlocked,"Are there troubles in your home? Come in—you’re on the clock.”
Fly on the Wall is an opportunity, once a month, for my blogging sisters and me to let you into our hearts and/or minds.For better or worse...How did I do this month?Now keep the fun going! Check out my sisters' posts!July 19, 2024
Travels and Stories
It's been another busy month for the flies in the Tolley Household.First: A RecapWith health and age concerns, the powers-that-be (Husby) have decided 2024 and 2025 will be 'The Years of the Travel' and so far they've delivered.First, February in Hawaii:
Husby and a friend
March and April in Europe:
A little bit of Florence
Husby doing what he likes best!
May: at home welcoming a new Great Grand-Baby!
Auntie Q holding her nephew!
June exploring Saskatchewan and crying over graduates:
Eldest Grandson
Third Granddaughter--my writer!
Hanging Hearts Lake, Saskatchewan
And then July. Home with family, then off to visit extended family in Nova Scotia:
Annual Family Medieval Feast
A little pilgrim girl...
Peggy's Cove with my sister!!!
Did I mention that her youngest son, my nephew, is a chef? Well, he is and this is what he made for us:
You can check out his other videos at Redsfeast on Youtube. Bring your appetite!Thank you for taking this whirlwind trip with me!
And now...a story... (Warning: Nudity!)First, a little background...I get to have Q, Granddaughter #11 with me whenever her mama works. Which isn't often enough for me!Recently, Son # 2 and his wife went to Scotland for a little rain-soaked and wonderful holiday. This is what they brought me:
Which is a huge joke here because Gramma (me) goes every year to see the Highland Games and every single one of those stone throwers is wearing underwear. Just ask all of us senior women who line up every year to watch the event!
Ahem...Also: Grampa, whilst all of this is going on inside, is out in the garden, shirtless to try and get some sun.Now on to my story...This magnet sits at the very top of my fridge where I thought none of the youngers would see it. But little Miss Bright Eyes did.Q: Gramma? Why isn't that girl wearing any underwear?Me: That's not a girl, sweetie. That's a guy and it's kind of a joke. You see, the men in this country called Scotland have special cloth that they make into what is called a kilt. Different colours for different families. It's kind of like a skirt for guys. And they claim they don't wear any underwear under the kilt.Q: (Thinking it over) Well, I always wear underwear under my skirts! And leggings, too!Me: Yes, Sweetie. The men are very proud of their kilts. Here I'll show you some pictures.Picture us looking at...pictures.One of them is of a VERY buff man. Shirtless. In a kilt.Q: Oh look, Gramma! He looks just like Grampa. But with muscles.Me: Bwahahahaha! I think it very odd, but my husby didn't find it nearly as funny as I did.Hmmmm...
Fly on the Wall is a monthly challenge that I share with my blogging sisters, Karen and Marcia (and this time, Sarah!) where we invite people into our lives and recap the activities and/or thoughts of our past month.This was a wee glimpse into mine...Now see what my sisters have done!Baking In A Tornado
Menopausal Mother
Husby and a friendMarch and April in Europe:
A little bit of Florence
Husby doing what he likes best!May: at home welcoming a new Great Grand-Baby!
Auntie Q holding her nephew!June exploring Saskatchewan and crying over graduates:
Eldest Grandson
Third Granddaughter--my writer!
Hanging Hearts Lake, SaskatchewanAnd then July. Home with family, then off to visit extended family in Nova Scotia:
Annual Family Medieval Feast
A little pilgrim girl...
Peggy's Cove with my sister!!!Did I mention that her youngest son, my nephew, is a chef? Well, he is and this is what he made for us:
You can check out his other videos at Redsfeast on Youtube. Bring your appetite!Thank you for taking this whirlwind trip with me!
And now...a story... (Warning: Nudity!)First, a little background...I get to have Q, Granddaughter #11 with me whenever her mama works. Which isn't often enough for me!Recently, Son # 2 and his wife went to Scotland for a little rain-soaked and wonderful holiday. This is what they brought me:
Which is a huge joke here because Gramma (me) goes every year to see the Highland Games and every single one of those stone throwers is wearing underwear. Just ask all of us senior women who line up every year to watch the event!
Ahem...Also: Grampa, whilst all of this is going on inside, is out in the garden, shirtless to try and get some sun.Now on to my story...This magnet sits at the very top of my fridge where I thought none of the youngers would see it. But little Miss Bright Eyes did.Q: Gramma? Why isn't that girl wearing any underwear?Me: That's not a girl, sweetie. That's a guy and it's kind of a joke. You see, the men in this country called Scotland have special cloth that they make into what is called a kilt. Different colours for different families. It's kind of like a skirt for guys. And they claim they don't wear any underwear under the kilt.Q: (Thinking it over) Well, I always wear underwear under my skirts! And leggings, too!Me: Yes, Sweetie. The men are very proud of their kilts. Here I'll show you some pictures.Picture us looking at...pictures.One of them is of a VERY buff man. Shirtless. In a kilt.Q: Oh look, Gramma! He looks just like Grampa. But with muscles.Me: Bwahahahaha! I think it very odd, but my husby didn't find it nearly as funny as I did.Hmmmm...
Fly on the Wall is a monthly challenge that I share with my blogging sisters, Karen and Marcia (and this time, Sarah!) where we invite people into our lives and recap the activities and/or thoughts of our past month.This was a wee glimpse into mine...Now see what my sisters have done!Baking In A TornadoMenopausal Mother
June 21, 2024
Eensie Weensie
Fly on the Wall is a monthly challenge that I share with my blogging sisters, Karen and Marcia (and this time, Sarah!) where we invite people into our lives and recap the activities and/or thoughts of our past month.This is a wee glimpse into mine...
Okay, I tried to find the cutest one I could. It still makes me shiver.
Sigh.
Thefact that spiders and I aren’t friends won’t come as a surprise to many of you.Further,the statement ‘Spiders and I exist best when on different time continuums’ willalso strike a familiar chord.Butstill, I’m bothered by what follows…
Theeensie weensie parasite crawled up the chi-ld’s back.Downcame the rain and washed it down the crack.Outcame the sun and dried up all the rain…Andthe eensie weensie parasite crawled up and ate his brain!
Youcan now picture the resultant squeals of laughter.
*See also "Incy Wincy”Spider. Or “Itsy Bitsy”. I’m assuming they all mean the same thing…
If you enjoyed my Fly on the Wall post, go now and see what my friends have been up to this month!You'll be glad you did!
Okay, I tried to find the cutest one I could. It still makes me shiver.Sigh.
Thefact that spiders and I aren’t friends won’t come as a surprise to many of you.Further,the statement ‘Spiders and I exist best when on different time continuums’ willalso strike a familiar chord.Butstill, I’m bothered by what follows…
The eensy weensy* spider climbed up the waterspout.
Actually as far as this goes, I’m fine with it. Spider in waterspout. Diane. Both in different quadrants of their co-existent world and unlikely to cross paths. We’re good.
Theeensie weensie parasite crawled up the chi-ld’s back.Downcame the rain and washed it down the crack.Outcame the sun and dried up all the rain…Andthe eensie weensie parasite crawled up and ate his brain!
Youcan now picture the resultant squeals of laughter.
*See also "Incy Wincy”Spider. Or “Itsy Bitsy”. I’m assuming they all mean the same thing…
If you enjoyed my Fly on the Wall post, go now and see what my friends have been up to this month!You'll be glad you did!
May 17, 2024
Away From Home
Fly on the Wall is a monthly challenge that I share with my blogging sisters, Karen and Marcia, where we invite people into our lives and recap our past month.This is my glimpse into mine...
I'm a homebody.
There, I've admitted it.I do like being in familiar surroundings. And especially in my own bed. With my own bathroom (something that grows increasingly important with the passage of years! But I digress...)And my own stuff around me.But Husby loves to travel.And I love to be with him.So I travel.It's actually quite funny. With numerous health concerns between the two of us, much of what we pack consists of...pills.Yeah. We pretty much resemble a traveling pharmacy.Fortunately, pills are fairly portable. Thus far.Where was I?Oh, yes. Traveling.And enjoying it.Recently, Husby and I and a couple of close friends, Bill and Judy, left our aforementioned comfortable surroundings and did an Amsterdam/Belgium/Italy loop.It was cold. I've never quite witnessed the cold like Amsterdam when it's +3 C, blowing a legitimate gale. AND raining.
Yep. There's no cold quite like it.And I live in Canada!But we enjoyed every single minute.Let me 'briefly' tell you about it...First Amsterdam (Or Hamsterdance, as Granddaughter #11 called it!). We were there for the tulips.And wow! Did we see TULIPS!(Just FYI: None of my pictures turned out, so most of what follows came from my artist/photographer friend, Judy White.)
Husby and me!
Keukenhof- a must-see!
Of course, being in Holland, we had to see windmills in Kinderdijk:
I want this library so much!
Now THAT's a model!
Nightwatch by Rembrandt. Just one of thousands!
And churches:
Grote Kerk, Haarlem
We could have spent a month there!But we had a schedule to keep, so on to the First World War Sites in Belgium. Just outside of what was known then as Ypres:
Of the 12,000 graves in this cemetery, only 4,000 were identified. The rest were 'Known Unto God'.
I've never cried so much...
Hill 62 Battlefield. Preserved just as it was. The divots and swales are from artillery blasts.
And now "sheep may safely graze'.
St. Julien Canadian Memorial
And then Florence and the surrounding countryside:
David.
So many works of art. So little time!
And SO many people!
We also took a bus trip out into the countryside of Tuscany. Pisa, Siena, San Gimingano. Fantastic!
We're not sure how many of these trips we have left in us, so we toured and ate and talked and laughed and absolutely enjoyed ourselves. There are thousands more pictures and an equal number of memories, but at least you got a glimpse.Thank you for coming along!
When you start to look like your passport photo, it's time to go home.
Now go and see what Karen and Marcia were up to this month!Trust me. You'll be glad you did!
I'm a homebody.
There, I've admitted it.I do like being in familiar surroundings. And especially in my own bed. With my own bathroom (something that grows increasingly important with the passage of years! But I digress...)And my own stuff around me.But Husby loves to travel.And I love to be with him.So I travel.It's actually quite funny. With numerous health concerns between the two of us, much of what we pack consists of...pills.Yeah. We pretty much resemble a traveling pharmacy.Fortunately, pills are fairly portable. Thus far.Where was I?Oh, yes. Traveling.And enjoying it.Recently, Husby and I and a couple of close friends, Bill and Judy, left our aforementioned comfortable surroundings and did an Amsterdam/Belgium/Italy loop.It was cold. I've never quite witnessed the cold like Amsterdam when it's +3 C, blowing a legitimate gale. AND raining.
Yep. There's no cold quite like it.And I live in Canada!But we enjoyed every single minute.Let me 'briefly' tell you about it...First Amsterdam (Or Hamsterdance, as Granddaughter #11 called it!). We were there for the tulips.And wow! Did we see TULIPS!(Just FYI: None of my pictures turned out, so most of what follows came from my artist/photographer friend, Judy White.)
Husby and me!
Keukenhof- a must-see!Of course, being in Holland, we had to see windmills in Kinderdijk:
And museums: The Rijks Museum is beyond stupendous:
I want this library so much!
Now THAT's a model!
Nightwatch by Rembrandt. Just one of thousands!And churches:
Grote Kerk, HaarlemWe could have spent a month there!But we had a schedule to keep, so on to the First World War Sites in Belgium. Just outside of what was known then as Ypres:
Of the 12,000 graves in this cemetery, only 4,000 were identified. The rest were 'Known Unto God'.
I've never cried so much...
Hill 62 Battlefield. Preserved just as it was. The divots and swales are from artillery blasts.And now "sheep may safely graze'.
St. Julien Canadian MemorialAnd then Florence and the surrounding countryside:
David.So many works of art. So little time!
And SO many people!We also took a bus trip out into the countryside of Tuscany. Pisa, Siena, San Gimingano. Fantastic!
We're not sure how many of these trips we have left in us, so we toured and ate and talked and laughed and absolutely enjoyed ourselves. There are thousands more pictures and an equal number of memories, but at least you got a glimpse.Thank you for coming along!
When you start to look like your passport photo, it's time to go home.Now go and see what Karen and Marcia were up to this month!Trust me. You'll be glad you did!
April 19, 2024
Being Simple
It's time for Fly on the Wall!Where we give our beloved readers an opportunity to see what has been going on in our homes--and minds--this past month.I have been thinking about--what else--pie!
I’m quite sure you all know that I love pie.True story.And so poems that discuss this particular subject are pretty muchguaranteed to capture my attention.Ahem….Thus, I introduce to you:Simple Simon.Okay, personally, I think labeling anyone as ‘simple’ is alittle insulting. I just want to put that out there. And yes, at first glance,this appears to have nothing at all to do with ‘pie’.Wait for it…
Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair, Says Simple Simon to the pieman. Let me taste your ware!
Ha!Told you!Let’sjust make a note here and now that I am totally with Simon in asking for alittle taste. If someone is giving away free tastes, I’m there.Justask the girl at Baskin Robbins. I think I set a record.Judgingby the look on her face, she wasn’t as impressed as I was.ButI digress…Whatwere we talking about?Oh,yes. Pie tastes…I’mthere.Particularlyif the pie is lemon. Or cherry. Maybe blueberry. Pumpkin.Okay.Any flavour. Ahem...So thus far in the story, Simon and me, we’re together.Now that pieman’s reaction in the next stanza is, in a word,predictable.
Says the pieman unto Simon. Show me first your penny, Says Simple Simon to the pieman. Indeed I have not any!
Oh,Simon, I feel your pain.ThatBaskin Robbins girl (see above) said the same thing.Ofcourse, by that point, I think my ‘tasting’ could easily have equaled a doublecone.Oops.But thisis where Simon and I depart company. Because I DID have a penny!Orseveral, because, let’s face it…ice cream ain’t cheap!Ishould point out here that I do, in point of fact, sympathize with the pieman.I mean, this is his livelihood we’re talking about. And—here’s where icecream differs from pie—a little taste out of a tub of ice cream is noticeably lessnoticeable than a little taste from a nicely, neatly-covered pie.Solet’s move on, sadly, away from pie.Sigh.
Simple Simon went a-fishing, For to catch a whale, All the water he could find Was in his mother's pail.
Okay, here’s where I admit that I am a miserable fisherman.In my life, I’ve caught a grand total of…zero fish.Oh, I’ve drowned a lot of poor, defenseless worms, one or twobugs and some fairly innocent corn kernels in a bid to catch something besidesboredom.With no luck whatsoever.But even I, with said miserable record, know that one ishardly likely to catch even a mini whale in one’s mother’s pail.Pretty simple, Simon.And lastly, this…
Simple Simon went to look If plums grew on a thistle, He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle.
A couple of thoughts here.Thistles were plentiful where I grew up.And—I just want to say this here—not one ever bore anythingeven remotely resembling a plum.Stupid, useless thistles.And I have been the recipient of a thistle’s tender embrace.It is anything but tender.And you’ve probably figured out that, having experienced the ‘prickly’tendencies of your typical thistle, the last thing I feel like doing iswhistling.Just sayin’…
Up for more? Go, now and read what my sister writers have been up to this month! Enjoyment guaranteed!
I’m quite sure you all know that I love pie.True story.And so poems that discuss this particular subject are pretty muchguaranteed to capture my attention.Ahem….Thus, I introduce to you:Simple Simon.Okay, personally, I think labeling anyone as ‘simple’ is alittle insulting. I just want to put that out there. And yes, at first glance,this appears to have nothing at all to do with ‘pie’.Wait for it…
Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair, Says Simple Simon to the pieman. Let me taste your ware!
Ha!Told you!Let’sjust make a note here and now that I am totally with Simon in asking for alittle taste. If someone is giving away free tastes, I’m there.Justask the girl at Baskin Robbins. I think I set a record.Judgingby the look on her face, she wasn’t as impressed as I was.ButI digress…Whatwere we talking about?Oh,yes. Pie tastes…I’mthere.Particularlyif the pie is lemon. Or cherry. Maybe blueberry. Pumpkin.Okay.Any flavour. Ahem...So thus far in the story, Simon and me, we’re together.Now that pieman’s reaction in the next stanza is, in a word,predictable.
Says the pieman unto Simon. Show me first your penny, Says Simple Simon to the pieman. Indeed I have not any!
Oh,Simon, I feel your pain.ThatBaskin Robbins girl (see above) said the same thing.Ofcourse, by that point, I think my ‘tasting’ could easily have equaled a doublecone.Oops.But thisis where Simon and I depart company. Because I DID have a penny!Orseveral, because, let’s face it…ice cream ain’t cheap!Ishould point out here that I do, in point of fact, sympathize with the pieman.I mean, this is his livelihood we’re talking about. And—here’s where icecream differs from pie—a little taste out of a tub of ice cream is noticeably lessnoticeable than a little taste from a nicely, neatly-covered pie.Solet’s move on, sadly, away from pie.Sigh.
Simple Simon went a-fishing, For to catch a whale, All the water he could find Was in his mother's pail.
Okay, here’s where I admit that I am a miserable fisherman.In my life, I’ve caught a grand total of…zero fish.Oh, I’ve drowned a lot of poor, defenseless worms, one or twobugs and some fairly innocent corn kernels in a bid to catch something besidesboredom.With no luck whatsoever.But even I, with said miserable record, know that one ishardly likely to catch even a mini whale in one’s mother’s pail.Pretty simple, Simon.And lastly, this…
Simple Simon went to look If plums grew on a thistle, He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle.
A couple of thoughts here.Thistles were plentiful where I grew up.And—I just want to say this here—not one ever bore anythingeven remotely resembling a plum.Stupid, useless thistles.And I have been the recipient of a thistle’s tender embrace.It is anything but tender.And you’ve probably figured out that, having experienced the ‘prickly’tendencies of your typical thistle, the last thing I feel like doing iswhistling.Just sayin’…
Up for more? Go, now and read what my sister writers have been up to this month! Enjoyment guaranteed!
March 15, 2024
A Pie-Filled Fly
It's time now to be a Fly on the Wall and get another glimpse into life at the Tolley house.It's been quite a month!Gramma and Grampa are home (from their recent holiday to places warm and rainy) and ready to FAMILY!
While the elders played cards...
The youngers ate ice cream and teased their cool uncle.
But the best part was Pi Night. Where we get to make pies and invite our friends and just enjoy each other's company.The Tolleys wait for this all year!2024 was year 12 of this celebration.And here is a little peek!
This year's crew. We made 84 pies! Apple, Cherry, Blueberry, Strawberry/Rhubarb, Peach, Pumpkin, Coconut Cream, Lemon, Chocolate Cream, Banana Cream and Butterscotch.
Quite a sight!
Then the people started arriving!
And arriving...
And arriving...
The pies began to disappear.
A little creativity can get you a lot of pie!
Still eating.
Our new pie-eating champ. 11 pieces. (Exactly the amount she is holding!)
(Let's face it...only the young join in on this challenge!)
The title was formerly held by a young man whose record of 10.5 pieces stood for five years.
The clean up.
And all that's left of 84 pies.
Gramma and Grampa are heading to bed.
See you next year?
Fly on the Wall is a challenge. We participants take the opportunity to give our friends a glimpse into what we were up to this month. We're so glad you could join us!Now go and see what my friends have been doing this month.I guarantee you'll love it!Karen At Baking in a TornadoMarcia at Menopausal Mother
While the elders played cards...
The youngers ate ice cream and teased their cool uncle.But the best part was Pi Night. Where we get to make pies and invite our friends and just enjoy each other's company.The Tolleys wait for this all year!2024 was year 12 of this celebration.And here is a little peek!
This year's crew. We made 84 pies! Apple, Cherry, Blueberry, Strawberry/Rhubarb, Peach, Pumpkin, Coconut Cream, Lemon, Chocolate Cream, Banana Cream and Butterscotch.
Quite a sight!
Then the people started arriving!
And arriving...
And arriving...
The pies began to disappear.
A little creativity can get you a lot of pie!
Still eating.
Our new pie-eating champ. 11 pieces. (Exactly the amount she is holding!)(Let's face it...only the young join in on this challenge!)
The title was formerly held by a young man whose record of 10.5 pieces stood for five years.
The clean up. And all that's left of 84 pies.
Gramma and Grampa are heading to bed.
See you next year?
Fly on the Wall is a challenge. We participants take the opportunity to give our friends a glimpse into what we were up to this month. We're so glad you could join us!Now go and see what my friends have been doing this month.I guarantee you'll love it!Karen At Baking in a TornadoMarcia at Menopausal Mother
February 16, 2024
A Sprat Chat
I admit it. I’mon a bit of a ‘Jack’ kick right now…
Jack Sprattcould eat no fat,His wifecould eat no lean.And soBetwixt the two of them,They lickedthe platter clean.
Isn’t that agreat story? These two have been served a meal and each likes a different partand they are so much in agreement that they can divide things up and each betotally satisfied.This, ofcourse, is a nursery rhyme, quite likely without much basis in reality.And right off,suggests several things to me… Jack and his wife get along well. I mean, howagreeable is your spouse to sharing your meal?No “Wait! Yougot all of the peas! Why do you get more peas than me?” or “What? You know Ilove mashed potatoes and I’m quite sure that wasn’t half!” or the ultimate “Hey!I was saving that as my last perfect bite and you took it!”Not that thathas ever happened to us…Ahem…They are also prettywell-matched. How many couples do you know who could divide an entrée completelyinto two and everyone is happy with what they get?And, I justwant to put this out there, but if someone is sharing a steak with me, no wayis he going to get all the meat and leave me all the trimmings.For one thing,ick.And foranother…no… 'ick’ pretty much is what I am staying with.So, as a lessonin spousal confluence, this is a great example.As a lesson innutrition, not so much.One finalthought. If they have a dog, that poor guy is pretty much stuck with what comesout of the Alpo bag.Becauseleftovers are going to be non-existent.Just saying…This post is part of the monthly Fly-on-the-Wall challenge. Our noble leader, Karen of Baking in a Tornado, challenges each of us participants to offer a glimpse into our private lives.With mixed results this month.I mean, everyone else has been doing things.I've been lying on a beach in Hawaii, moving only enough so people don't poke me to see if I'm alive.But I did want to write and share something.I came up with...good ol' Jack.I'm loving this!Go now and read what the other participants have contributed. You'll be glad you did!
Baking In A Tornado
January 30, 2024
Jumping Jack
Disclaimer: Okay, right off, I want to say that I do notcondone the actions of said ‘Jack’ in what follows. In point of fact, I think…Well, maybe I should start at the beginning…
Jack be nimble,Jack be quick,Jack jump over thecandlestick
You’ve heard it before, I’m quite sure. This little dittyabout a mysterious someone named ‘Jack’ who spends his time airborne over candlesticks.Now I don’t know about you, but for me, a candlestick isgenerally used as a source of light. And less commonly, heat.But never as some sort of athletic measuring stick.That just makes me uncomfortable.I mean, what happens if Jack is feeling a little less ‘nimble’on a given day and thus ‘slower’ in his reaction times?Would it then follow that we might see:
Jack not nimbleJack not quickJack scooting overyonder hill in a frantic search for a water source.
You’re right. It doesn’t rhyme.Now just where and/or when did this really strange activitybegin?Are we to believe that one day, out of the blue, some kidnamed Jack just decided to leap over some random candlestick?Okay, yes, I know that a group of kids hanging out togetherare often the architects of ‘mischief’. And maybe someone suggested the art offlame leap-age as a possible reprieve from boredom.Maybe they even suggested that everyone give it a try, and he who neither lights his britches nor snuffs the candle wins good luck and along life.Let’s face it, if one does light one’s britches on fire,long life isn’t going to be a problem.Ahem…
So:Kids be nimbleKids be quickKids better find somethingconstructive to do or Mama going to warm kids’ britches--without a candlestick.
Hmmmm. I’m having trouble with this.Actually, I’ve heard of bridegrooms attempting similarfeats—the leaping, not the lighting—in an effort to ensure a long and happymarriage.But you know me. I prefer things like: affection,conversation and good humour to blah…blah…blah…marriage.But that’s just me…So…back to Jack. And his candlestick.I think the whole exercise is just silly, silly, silly.Waste of time, energy and resources.I think it would be better said like this:
Jack be nimbleJack be quickJack leave the candlestick on the table and get Jack’schores done.
The end.P.S. Now I’ve heard of hiding your light under a bushel,but never under a derriere.I just wanted to put that out there.
Jack be nimble,Jack be quick,Jack jump over thecandlestick
You’ve heard it before, I’m quite sure. This little dittyabout a mysterious someone named ‘Jack’ who spends his time airborne over candlesticks.Now I don’t know about you, but for me, a candlestick isgenerally used as a source of light. And less commonly, heat.But never as some sort of athletic measuring stick.That just makes me uncomfortable.I mean, what happens if Jack is feeling a little less ‘nimble’on a given day and thus ‘slower’ in his reaction times?Would it then follow that we might see:
Jack not nimbleJack not quickJack scooting overyonder hill in a frantic search for a water source.
You’re right. It doesn’t rhyme.Now just where and/or when did this really strange activitybegin?Are we to believe that one day, out of the blue, some kidnamed Jack just decided to leap over some random candlestick?Okay, yes, I know that a group of kids hanging out togetherare often the architects of ‘mischief’. And maybe someone suggested the art offlame leap-age as a possible reprieve from boredom.Maybe they even suggested that everyone give it a try, and he who neither lights his britches nor snuffs the candle wins good luck and along life.Let’s face it, if one does light one’s britches on fire,long life isn’t going to be a problem.Ahem…
So:Kids be nimbleKids be quickKids better find somethingconstructive to do or Mama going to warm kids’ britches--without a candlestick.
Hmmmm. I’m having trouble with this.Actually, I’ve heard of bridegrooms attempting similarfeats—the leaping, not the lighting—in an effort to ensure a long and happymarriage.But you know me. I prefer things like: affection,conversation and good humour to blah…blah…blah…marriage.But that’s just me…So…back to Jack. And his candlestick.I think the whole exercise is just silly, silly, silly.Waste of time, energy and resources.I think it would be better said like this:
Jack be nimbleJack be quickJack leave the candlestick on the table and get Jack’schores done.
The end.P.S. Now I’ve heard of hiding your light under a bushel,but never under a derriere.I just wanted to put that out there.
On the Border
Stories from the Stringam Family ranches from the 1800's through to today.
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