SoCS; yearly

The other day I finished the last jigsaw puzzle of the season. I like to do things yearly to mark the time passing by; much the way Christmas is yearly. I start to decorate when the days get very short to light up the gloom, Christmas happens, then I take it all down to start a New Year. It’s a tradition that keeps life from mundane sameness; day after day, month after month.

That’s why I like to live in the 4 seasons. By October I’m sick of weeding and fussing, I’m sick of flowers! It’s time to get into the woods now that mosquitoes are gone and enjoy the glorious colours. It’s a good thing snow comes along and covers all the plants, changing the whole environment. You forget about them until you’re sick of snow and longing for colour. Spring comes and they start to emerge. You get excited by a flower!

Summer…. summer is going to be so different for me this year! The last four summers I have driven 40 minutes to work because of the tens of thousands of tourists and cottagers that come here each summer. The grocery store I worked in was packed and busy every day. I worked as many hours I as could get and spent many days off laying on the couch with my curtains drawn, exhausted and sick with a headache.

Before the grocery store job I had worked in a convenience store, cleaned cottages and worked in an ice-cream shop (no, it isn’t fun). Tourists are money here and that’s what gets us through the winter. It’s always been a time to make some cash. But now I get paid for being 65 :I still can’t believe it!

Now I’m retired and ready for summer! I can keep my gardens much nicer by chipping away at it day by day. I’ll be ready when I get a text saying “we’re bring the kids to the beach!”

I was officially orientated to be a volunteer at our local Community Health Centre so that will open up new directions for me. Exercise classes and trail walks is what I’m signed up for so far….. that’s why I’m excited about summer now instead of dreading it!


SoCS; spoke


My new life in retirement is starting to take shape: barring having lots more money….. I couldn’t be happier!

About six weeks ago I saw a post on Facebook from my local Health Centre where my doctor is. They wanted volunteers for a mental health program for people with any number of mental health problems. It has an exercise class once a week, ‘Art and Conversation’, cooking lessons, guest speakers….. it’s a great program so I wrote about volunteering.

The co-ordinator of the program called me and through our discussion I realized I was depressed enough (from social isolation this winter) to join the group! Meanwhile, I applied to be a volunteer of the Health Centre, got a police check done (I passed) and put in my papers for volunteering.

Last week, at ‘Balls, Bands, and Resistance’ exercise class the co-ordinator came up and spoke to me after. She said I was in such good physical shape (for my age) she would like me to take a course teaching fitness to seniors. They would sign me up for it.

I said, “YES! I would love to!” It was kind of what I had in mind when I first volunteered and I’m really hoping to do Dance-fit.

Meanwhile, I had an order for an apron from a chef friend of mine. It was nice to having a sewing project (and see my sewing machine clear of paper piles.) I’m sewing again!


When its warm enough to open the windows I have a few painting projects I’ve wanted to do that got put on the shelf when I got the job at the grocery store.

I forced myself on my neighbours, making friends and now will be at their campfire get-togethers.  I used to see them sometimes on my way home from a night shift.

And now this morning I saw this on Facebook;

lamp idea

I want to make one. The globe can be made from papier maché , another hobby I haven’t done in a few years.

Spring has finally sprung and I can get out in my yard. I’m really looking forward to having the time to make my gardens pretty.

I laugh when I think of all the people who said, “You’ll get bored.” 

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “spoke.” Use it somewhere, in some form, in your post. Bonus points if you don’t use it in the first sentence. Enjoy!


Prompt; Song

Yesterday I listened to a story about a song.

“Louie, Louie, The Strange Journey into the Dirtiest Song Ever Written”

It’s on a new podcast on Spotify called ‘Lost Notes’. I’ve tried to link it here but I guess WordPress just isn’t big enough for it. The links I copied are just gobbledygook.

I love Spotify for finding songs. When I left my husband, I left behind a few decades of music. I had a lot of CD’s that I made. Getting all the old stuff I loved on iTunes would have cost me a fortune. I would get gift cards and buy my old favourites.

But Spotify is whatever and whenever I think of something or hear something. Hear something on TV I like;  just go get it.  It was just on the verge of too much money, ($10 a month) until I discovered all the podcasts. Now I get as much or more enjoyment out of it than Netflix!

It’s great to listen to stories while doing  housework, dishes (no dishwasher), jigsaw puzzling and sewing (when its going smooth).

‘Classic Tales Podcast’ is my favourite. Great short stories. ‘Myths and Legends’- I’m listening to the tales of Gilgamesh now.  I also pick up true crime stories from time to time.

But this prompt is ‘song’. The story of ‘Louie, Louie’ was every interesting. They interviewed the man who wrote it and sold it for a pittance to buy a diamond ring for a girl who left him. What I keep thinking about is that the most famous version is the WORST version. Some kids in high school recorded it in their garage and made a mess of it and yet it endures to this day; one of the most loved songs of all time.

SoCS: mon

A few people in my life have called me ‘Mon’. My favourite was a girl I worked with who would greet me with, “Hey, Mon!” like we were a couple of Rastafarians.

I guess its time to let you in on a secret I’ve never revealed; my name is Monica. Not a common name, hard to nickname. “Nic”, my dad called me sometimes; “Nic the pick the old Jellystick”.

‘Mon’ is OK. Mony I do not tolerate. Call me ‘Mony’ and I will tell you not to ever call me that again.


Yesterday I was getting a mammogram. There was a 91-year-old volunteer whose job it was to instruct us how to get ready. She pointed out the stack of hospital gowns, gave me a little basket for my top clothing, and explained what to do pains-taking detail even though the instructions were plainly visible on the wall.   She asked me my name.

Her face lit up when I said ‘Monica’. “Oh, that’s an English name! I knew two Monicas!”

‘Yes’ I nodded, and backed into my cubicle.

When I was in the little waiting room she came in, sat down and proceeded to tell me how she met Monica who may have been her cousin. It started with a list of her cousin’s maiden names and ambled on in a perfectly undisturbed stream of consciousness.

Luckily the lady who just had her mammogram done came back. “Oh, I’m not doing my job!” she said and got up to talk to the other lady.

I can’t remember what she said but I remember the glassy stare of the lady standing in her hospital gown wishing the nice old lady would stop talking so she could get dressed and go.

She was still talking when the technician came in and said, “Monica?”



She wasn’t there when it was done so I changed quietly and made a quick getaway.

Prompt; froth

I wasn’t exactly frothing at the mouth but I did have temper tantrum, yelling and swearing at Marian yesterday.

Marian is my sewing machine given to me by my mother-in-law, Marian. I often wonder when she’s giving me a hard time if it’s Marian’ spirit fucking with me. Sorry to use that word but I can’t think of a better one.


As all sewers know, the bobbin tension is crucial. I can look perfect on top as you sew merrily along not knowing it’s making big loops on the underside. It will do this for no apparent reason.

Because it happens a lot, I have a piece of test fabric so I can check the tension. I do this when I change the bobbin or when more folds or adding ties make the fabric thicker. Since I was using thread from another project, I’ve been loading the bobbin only so much at a time, worried I might run out of thread and have to use another colour.

This apron order has been going well until yesterday. Marian was in a bad mood. Maybe she feels me thinking about her son which I still do a lot. Sewing the hem of the apron the tension went wonky. When this happens the thread pulls out easily; long strands of thread wasted and thrown away. I can see the end of the spool is nigh.

I adjusted the tension (fiddled is more like it) tested it on the scrap, same number of folds, and it was fine. Went to sew……  big loops underneath.  I did this three times!  Three times it was good on the scrap then big loops when I sewed the apron. Same fabric, same number of folds.

That’s when I screamed and swore at Marian (the machine) but rather than froth at the mouth I went for a walk in the woods.

Luckily the pockets went on without incident

Prompt; Rush No More

When I saw the word ‘rush’ as the prompt I breathed a deep sigh of relief. No more rushing in my life. Nobody shooting at my feet to make me dance.

I lived life in a kind of rush for years and years. My husband was always, “c’mon, c’mon…” there was always so much to do. He couldn’t stand to see me relax or even stop to eat.

My mom lived pretty far from me and always needed my help. It was a four hour drive to her place and whenever I got there…. I was late; there was so much to do. She would be disappointed if I didn’t bring something delicious to eat.

Then I would drive back to my nagging husband and the mess of whatever he did or ate while I was gong. I helped him with whatever he did, tried to make my own beeswax products for my own money and tried to keep my house clean “on my own time” as my husband would say. “When is that?”  I would ask.

When my mom was at the hospital in her final days, I had to find a ride with my nephew because he wouldn’t let me use the truck. By this time menopause was setting in and I was falling apart. I needed rest so bad but I was living in constant ‘fight or flight’.

One year later it was all over. My mom passed away and my husband kicked me out of my home and business because I couldn’t work hard enough. I agreed and never went back.

It took a long time to stop rushing. I would find myself rushing around doing things then stop….. why am I rushing? I had to consciously make myself do thing in a relaxed manner.

Unfortunately, I had to get a job and the rushing began again. At first I worked at the bakery and on cash but that was too much.

I’d always be rushing off to my shift. That would make me sweat and I’d have to put on that damn uniform and sweat, rushing to work.

NO MORE! I’m retired. I live alone. I take my own sweet time and it’s fantastic! I can putter away a morning, go for a walk, have an afternoon nap…….. no one is goading me……  I’m finally living the way I’ve always wanted to live!

SoCS; passive/aggressive

Passive/Aggressive;  It’s the most frustrating, worst behaviour of all. I’d rather have an honest, angry, in my face, opposition than a sniveling agreement then rolling the eyes or the little sideways nod with pursed lips. These are the people who tell everyone else what is bothering them about you, except you.

We all do it. I would go as far to say as women we are raised to do it because we weren’t allowed to get angry and speak our mind. “Nice girls just agree. (You don’t really have to agree)”

You can’t fight passive/aggressive behavior. There will be no banter, they just slide away like oil making eyes like you’re so crazy!

Well, that’s all I have to say about that. It just bugs me.


Prompt; frigid

Spring is taking its own sweet time this year. Frigid temperatures all week; yesterday it snowed but it didn’t stay on the ground. Even the sunny days have barely got above 0 C. (32F)

I’ve been wanting to write because its been a while but I didn’t want to join in on the A-Z challenge.  Excess writing becomes too much like chit-chat for me; I don’t like to talk unnecessarily. Just Jot it January wore me down. Yesterday I was all set to write but the prompt was ‘churn’. I thought about it and couldn’t come up with anything for so long, it got too late in the morning.

I did enjoy Eileen’s read on some childhood memories of a churn and a donkey;


Back to frigid temperatures; I’ve just about used up all my firewood! The two previous years were fairly mild and I would have firewood left over. Not this year! Most of the ‘body’ wood is gone so I’m burning big pieces that barely fit in the stove and lot of slab wood that goes up fast and hot so you have to keep feeding it.

Even though it’s frigid outside its easy to warm up the room with just a few pieces of wood. I can get the temperature warmer than the furnace setting. The other night it got up to 24C (72F). That was almost too hot: I was loving it!

But I’m itching to get outside and start some gardening. I’m really looking forward to having the time to work on it now that I’m retired.  I can chip away at it day by day, a few hours at a time. I plan on ordering 2 yards of mulch and doing my shrubs beds…… I can’t wait….. go away frigid temperatures!