Everything

What’s the household task you most dislike doing? Why do you think that is — is it the task itself, or something more?

So many household tasks came to mind I couldn’t pick one. I live on my own and have a house and yard so I’m sick of doing every single thing by myself.  Inside housework, outside yard work, bill paying, money earning, cooking, taking the car for maintenance, …..

Painting.

(Every time I take a photo of my work it’s cloudy!)

This painting job should be finished but I had a set back for a couple of days. I was going to get paint before working Friday night and paint all weekend but my boss called me in early. It was a terrible night…. bad enough to write about …. so I put off buying paint until Monday.   https://monicleblog.wordpress.com/2015/05/10/im-down/

I really wanted to see this wall painted as I’ve been living in newspapers and tarps and looking at bare, dirty walls. This does not help depression.

This morning I have to go to the dentist and hope to do some more this afternoon.

It would be so nice if someone was painting while I did everything else. Or if someone else took my car in for me; the snow tires are still on and it’s way overdue for an oil change. It goes in Thursday morning and I’m working Thursday night which means back and forth to Grand Bend twice.

My lawn needs it’s first cut already: I have my fingers crossed that my mower will start up. If not…. what then?

I’m looking at how I can made a sidewalk in front of my house ….. cheaply and by myself.

Mostly I hate organizing papers, which is my worst mess. I can always put that off because there is always so much to do….. by myself.

It gets to me.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Those Dishes Won’t Do Themselves.”

Science, Shmience!

This just in: let’s pretend that science has proven that karma is a thing. Your words and actions will influence what happens to you in the future. How (if at all) will you change your ways?

Excuse me? What if science proved it? How about “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”?

And even if that doesn’t prove it….. who cares! Science is dogmatic in this day and age but it changes all the time! What was considered ‘true’ 100 years ago does not apply today when it comes to science and yet we are asked to put our blind faith in it.

The belief in karma goes back as far as, and even before, written history. It hasn’t changed.

It’s a fact for me. I’ve lived my life with karma in consideration for years and years. You may think you got away with something but years later it will come back and bite you in the ass. Or it might just wait until your next life so you won’t be able to figure out what the hell is going on, at all!

Right now I’m trying to imagine not believing in karma and how would I live my life…….. hhmm… maybe that’s what wrong with people!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Karma Chameleon.”

My Mentor

Have you ever had a mentor? What was the greatest lesson you learned from him or her?

Oh, yes!  I’ve had a mentor who changed my life.

I don’t talk about spirituality very much because it’s a private thing for me. It’s an intimate relationship with God I don’t share with others unless it’s the subject of conversation….. and it hardly ever is.

I’ve had the opportunity to meet and study under a spiritual Master that, I feel, is the real deal. I won’t bother with his name or organization; I will take you to the things he said that changed my life.

The first interview I had with him, I was still low in self-esteem and was questioning him about things people said that I didn’t agree with. I wanted him to explain it so I could understand but what he said was, “Don’t let anyone make you second guess yourself…… you know what to do.”

BAM! No one had ever said anything like that to me before. I am always being told what I ‘should’ do as if I can’t think for myself.

A few years later at a meeting, I asked him, “In this culture we are told it’s important to have self-esteem but in spirituality we are told to have humility…..”  That’s as far as I got when he looked at me (I can’t find a strong enough word for that ‘look’)  and said, “Sister, don’t be a door mat.”

That doesn’t sound like an answer but it was. He was talking about my husband and how I was taking way too much shit in the name of humility, trying to be a good wife. I deserved better.

He did go on to answer the question; “If you don’t love yourself then you will never believe you are worthy of God.”

This man taught me to love myself and know I deserve to be happy. Because of him, I never feel all alone.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mentor Me.”

My Job

Tell us about a time when everything actually turned out exactly as you’d hoped.

Landing this job I have now was a big, lucky break for me. Being 60 years old and having worked with my ex-husband at our apiary business for 25 years, not too many places I applied to would even interview me. Almost out of money, my anxiety was mounting, I was afraid and my confidence was zero. I didn’t even feel myself to be ’employable’.

I had been thinking about and looking into taking cake decorating when I saw an ad on-line for cake decorator at a fairly near-by grocery store saying “Will train”. It came out on the day of a huge snow storm so there was no way I could make the drive but it had a faxing address. My computer doesn’t fax. I happened to be e-mailing a friend that day who lives in Vancouver and told her my problem. She said she had a fax modem so I could send her my resume with a cover letter. We did some back and forth, finding the right file formats and she sent it out hours after I saw the ad.

I stood at the window and looked out at snow for long periods of time with the mantra “Please, please, please……” running through my head.

The storm ended on a Saturday night, the roads were cleared and my driveway plowed out Sunday.  Early Monday morning I drove to Grand Bend with another resume and jangling nerves. I wanted it so bad; I was very nervous.

My interviewer, who is now my boss, is a positive, cheery go-getter. She liked me and called me a firecracker!  Little did she know my energy was from 3 coffees and extreme nervousness. That was also lucky because she never did receive my fax.

I got the job!  Not only did I get the job but a few months later they decided to train me on cash, also. Now I have two jobs in the same store which is great. Two completely different jobs and different co-workers. On cash, I can wear my hair down and nice earrings and flirt with retired men. In the bakery I wear a hair-net and baseball hat which makes me magically invisible! When I work at night, no one even sees me! I dance, I fart, sing along to the ‘easy-listening’ music. It’s all just cleaning at night and I know I do that well; I have plenty of experience cleaning.

Yes, much as I would love to be retired, this job was my lucky break! Today I have the day off, relaxed and worry-free; who wouldn’t want that? I’ve earned it and that feels awesome!

And what about cake decorating? Well, the main person still does 80% of it and I get very little practice. I watched her for a couple of months then one day my bakery boss said, “you should be able to write on cakes by now”. That was my training. Mostly I make the regular cakes, such as Chocolate Fudge cake, Snickers Bar cake, and cream pies. ‘Yeah, it’s a tough job but somebodies got to do it.’

“All It’s Cracked Up to Be.”

Catch Her in the Rye

If you could have any author –living or dead – write your biography, who would you choose?

At first, I thought of Tom Robbins or Hunter S. Thompson, but that would only be good for a short period of my life when I did drugs, had sex often, went out at night and drank alcohol.

Robbins would only poke fun at my quest for enlightenment: Thompson would make a mockery of it.

J.D. Salinger would understand what I wanted to convey about my life. He could dress it up to make it readable:

I would be a female Holden, combined with Esme, observing life and questioning society’s constraints in my childhood. Franny, in my teens, melodramatic and swooning at the difficulty of life in general.

But wait…… Tom Robbins would really do justice to my ten years of caving experiences…… or the guy that wrote “Shibumi”.

To tell the truth; I’m already bored by the thought of my biography!  Even I’m not interested in reading it.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ghostwriter.”

Haunted Campground

Many, many years ago, when I first met my husband, I had a Volkswagen camper and we spent six weeks out west going to different National Parks and hiking.

One day we were looking for a campground to spend the night and came upon one at a First Nations reserve in the Bow River Valley in Alberta.

It was weird right away as the gates were wide open and no one was at the kiosk.  There are many campgrounds were you find a spot then walk back to pay for it so we looked for a good spot.

That was easy because there were no campers there at all. Every camp site was empty. We walked around a saw an old trailer at the back but no one came out as we walked by.

The whole place was eerie and silent; it didn’t have a good feel to it. Usually we liked being alone but this time I would’ve preferred others to be there.

Back at our campsite we started to get set up to make dinner but I had to pee first.  I figured since no one was there, I might as well pee in the woods behind us rather than walk to the outhouse.  While I was squatted and peeing, I heard a low, deep growl but so low I wasn’t sure if I heard it. I heard it again, stood up while still peeing and walked quickly to my van while pulling up my pants.  What was weird is that it sounded so close, as if it were whispering the growl just over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure if I really heard it and didn’t just imagine it.

I got in the van and started to prepare dinner. The pop-top had canvas sides with screened vents so it was like standing in a tent. I first heard dogs barking in the distance, then drumming,  then furious barking and the sounds of women screaming, drums beating faster and louder…….I stood frozen….. I was listening to a massacre. I was hearing the sounds of women and children screaming in horror.

Doug was lying back reading.  “Stand up!” I said, and he did. The sounds continued, we were looking at each other, aghast.

Then we threw all the dishes in the little sink, pulled down the pop-top and drove the hell out of there as fast as we could!

I will never forget it. It may have been the most intense ghostly encounter I’ve ever had but still, to this day, remember the old trailer. I think a ‘medicine-man’ lived there and scared us away.

The whole incident was certainly surreal.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Whoa!.”   What’s the most surreal experience you’ve ever had?

Plead the Fifth!

OH, this is a short post;  What question do I hate to be asked?

“How old do you think I am?”

Women, please don’t ask that. I feel fear when I get asked that question. Obviously, that person thinks they look good for their age so you better guess low.

At this age you could be a healthy 60 or an unhealthy 50 and look the same.  Just because you die your hair, your face doesn’t look any younger.  You generally look younger not having grey hair.

I’ve been asked this by a co-worker and was present last week when she asked another that question. She dies her hair black and looks over reading glasses.  There could be a 15 year span of what her age might be. The other had the ‘deer-caught-in-the-headlights’ look.  She just said, “I’m 71!” and totally shocked the other (who is 57).

I feel bad for cashiers when they have to ask if you are a senior. There are some stores that give discounts on certain days of the month if you are over 60. That’s not even officially ‘senior’, which is 65.  I hope I never have to ask this at my store, “Are you a senior?”, then get that cold answer they are not.

I don’t mind one bit telling people I’m 62, especially if it means getting a discount! I would never say “Guess….” and give them a coy look.  Having grey-streaked hair, I’d be afraid of the answer.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Plead the Fifth.”

P.S.  Whenever I do the Daily Prompt, the title doesn’t appear in the Reader.  I keep trying to “enter” it but it won’t show up.  Any guesses?

Re-Run

I’m going to cheat today and pull up an old post. (I have to leave for work soon.)  This is the scariest thing I have ever done:

https://monicleblog.wordpress.com/2013/11/21/daily-prompt-unsafe-and-scared-witless/

Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fight-or-flight/

 

Ipperwash Beach

At the foot of Lake Huron we have the beautiful Ipperwash Beach, renowned for its sandy beach and clear, shallow, water; perfect for families with small children and dogs.

Ample parking space is available so beach lovers can enjoy the pristine nature and feel safe to let their kids play.   (Update; barriers have been removed so cars and trucks can drive on the beach.)

In the evening you can hear the sounds of whooping laughter, thumping bass guitars and the smell of campfires. Fireworks are popular all summer long: no special celebration required!  If you like to drink, BBQ and ‘rock-on’, you’ll love Ipperwash Beach…… a great place to let your pants hair down!

Perhaps peace, quiet and brooding is more to your liking: try a winter rental in a lakeside cottage for long days of bleak seclusion.

Beside the once-renowned Ipperwash Park and close to the Pinery Provincial Park, Ipperwash Beach is a hidden jewel in southwestern Ontario.

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Local Flavor.”      Write a piece about a typically “local” experience from where you come from as though it’s an entry in a travel guide.

Frozen Fortress

You’ve being exiled to a private island, and your captors will only supply you with five foods. What do you pick?

That is exactly how I’m feeling these days; like I’m living in a private island.  Winter continues it’s annoying ways; it’s extremely cold and the snow is thigh deep anywhere I haven’t shovelling or stomped a pathway through.

The stomped pathway is to the bird feeder which is a table. I gave up on bird feeders the first year here when raccoons destroyed them. Squirrels are my friends, too, my totem animal, so they are provided with corn and a few peanuts for a treat. These are my companions in my little island dug out of the snow.

Even though ‘having a job’ is keeping my sanity right now; they are also my captors.  Yesterday was my only day off in a run of 9 days when two weekly schedules collided in a explosion of ‘hours’.  Thankfully,  I’m on 5:00 to 9:00 tonight so I almost have today off.

(I was just writing on crazily, bragging complaining about all my hard work and isolation when I remembered the point and deleted my meanderings.)

My captors provide me with the five foods I need to sustain me in this isolated island that is my home. (At least I work in a grocery store!)

1. Coffee
2. Bread
3. Cheese
4. Potato Chips
5. Chocolate bars

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Five a Day.”