So long 2020…

Not our building but you can’t see out thru the mesh and the workers arrive at 7:30 a.m.

2020 is about done. Thank goodness. All the residents in my building have gone through as much as I have with the upgrade happening in the midst of the pandemic. I salute them! Here’s hoping 2021 is better for my neighbours, me, and everyone. It isn’t that I expect January 1st to be a perfect day followed by 365 more perfect days. I’m not that naive. But I’m hopeful things will slowly improve for everyone.

90 yr old British woman gets vaccine

Surely, many of us should receive the vaccine in 2021, which I pray will help save lives and allow us to see each other again. My birthday is in July and it would be a great present to be given mine by then. I’m also hoping that by the time that birthday arrives, I may get some wisdom. Don’t laugh. Miracles CAN happen.

Masks, distancing, cooperation

Some nice things did happen for me even during COVID:19 this year. I’ve been protected and loved by my local chosen family, Amy, Samantha, Linda, Vinson, Andrew and Alison. They’ve seen to it I wear the right masks, distance properly, gotten to necessary medical appointments, seen to it that I have everything I need and some which I just want. May all the Goddesses of the Universe bless them.

My own and chosen loved ones have taught me how to chat and see each other on Zoom and FaceTime. I knew nothing about these programs before. I’m also learning how to use Messages. How exciting to be learning new things as the young patiently watch me slowly find my way technologically.

I sure read a lot

I’ve done a whole lot of reading this year thanks to the little street library where I can give or take books. I’ve read books I never would have chosen before and have learned new things as a result. Neat. Our public libraries were closed for a long time and it would take public transit for me to get there anyway. I’m grateful to other local readers who have shared their books with me.

Yesterday ‘Hesper, The Biveros Effect’ became my 200th Blog follower. Having been raised eons ago, I still need to be rescued by my children every time I screw things up on my computer, so I consider this a great achievement. Hurrah. And you, dear reader, are constant and reliable and I so appreciate you reading what I write. Please stay well and have a great 2021. You are particularly special in my life.

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My love, alone he walketh

My late friend Hans was a really funny guy. He enjoyed marzipan, which I don’t. Thus marzipan was a safe thing for me to get for him whenever he visited.

I drove to the candy store in Kerrisdale for it until Purdy’s opened a shop in my own neighbourhood on 4th Avenue.

Since I was working, Hans was on his own during the day. I suggested he walk the few blocks for the chocolates on his own.

You couldn’t insult Hans. I recall telling him that he was arrogant. His response? ‘Well, I don’t know anyone who has more reason to be.’ It was impossible to get angry at him.

Hans on a visit

Hans loved Shakespeare. He even wrote an award-winning musical set in Shakespeare’s England. (It was the sole production not actually written by Shakespeare ever performed in ‘The Globe Theatre’ in Los Angeles.)

Tongue in cheek, he complained about the terrible treatment he was receiving at my hands. Tongue in cheek, I wrote this for him. We both had a good laugh. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

My Love, Alone He Walketh

My love, upon the Avenue he walketh
Gallantly, bravely, forth he setteth
Alone, uncivilized hordes he faceth
On Fourth, between Arbutus and Yew.

A villain on 4th Avenue?

Not rain, nor sleet, nor snow delayeth
Nor fear of highwaymen who lurketh
Along the dangerous route he walketh
Onward, onward to Purdy’s door.

These foreign climes, my love, he braveth
Distanced far from the land he loveth
For his fair damsel alone he cometh
Her beauteous face to see once more.

And when my love, indeed he leaveth
And alone, I must myself then beith
Shall I, on mornings cold and cleareth
Walk in his steps to Purdy’s store.

The door handle, I shall then caresseth
For dear hands upon it once had layeth
My love’s devotion I shall recalleth
And surely remember evermore.

Above all else, he does not snore.

He walk-ed this path so unafraideth
For marzipan, the world he’d braveth
Upon my knees I thank the Lordeth
That above all else, he does not snore.

Another ‘Muriel says…’

I’m still living in total madness and upheaval. The new windows and glass doors are installed, but I can’t move my desk back in front of my office window because they still need to paint the insides.

My garden continues to struggle and mostly die in my dining area and can’t go back outdoors because there’s no balcony yet in sight. Right now I’m infested with gnats from all the soil in pots being indoors and my possibly vain attempts to keep some growing things alive by continuing to water them. My idea of keeping them inside until the balcony is rebuilt was obviously a mistake. Oh well, this isn’t the first mistake I’ve made in my life.

Although I’m not feeling very clever right now, daughter Susan continues to be creative and so here is another of her ‘Muriel says…’ Enjoy!

Thank you Susan…

My poor confused little lilac tree…

In the middle of this pandemic, our Strata decided to give our old building a face-lift. Our windows, glass doors, and balconies are included in the process. My cherished miniature lilac tree lives on the balcony. So do various other plants. They all had to be removed.

Some owners got their stuff down to the yard below, but I can’t do that on my own and how much can you ask others to do? (I’m on the 3rd floor.) I decided to ask dear Andrew to bring them all into my dining area instead. Maybe it was a mistake. This isn’t the first mistake I’ve made in my life.

My plants have mostly died. That’s okay. I can start over, except for my beloved lilac tree. I love lilacs. And Susan bought it for me just because I love them. Since it IS small, I can easily bury my face into the lovely blossoms. Inside, the tree began to look dead. Susan and I both began mourning. Still, I kept watering the poor thing — just in case.

My lovely miniature lilac tree, a gift from daughter Susan

This week, whaddaya know! It started sprouting leaves. Leaves? Now? It’s December. The beginning of winter. My little lilac tree is obviously confused. Living in my warm apartment, it thinks it’s spring!! Let’s face it, this is no time for a self-respecting lilac tree to start sprouting greenery. What to do??

Lilac tree and Jerry, the Inukshuk Susan made for me

I’ve started talking to the lilac tree as you would to a wayward child. ‘You can’t be doing that now, you silly thing. What will the neighbours say? They’ll accuse me of being a bad mother.’

Gosh, let’s face it, they’ll KNOW how crazy I am when they hear me talking to my confused miniature tree. Okay, okay. I know that you, dear reader, already know how nutty I am. No need to rub it in…