Talking…

Please don’t interrupt, I’m deep in conversation. With whom? With myself of course. Yes I talk to myself — who else would listen as carefully and give me such expert advice — for free? Professionals charge by the hour.

Problem solving is important and requires extreme concentration. I haven’t lived all these years for nothing… Besides who is more familiar with the circumstances in my life and more capable of figuring out what to do?

I’m also a good listener, especially when I’m doing the talking. I may not always agree, but why argue? I want to hear what I have to say, so I pay total attention.

I DEBATED WELL AT SCHOOL

Am I bored? Insulted? Never! As a good debater (I did well on debating teams at school), when I don’t agree, you’d never hear ME make personal attacks. Not even when I debate myself. Personal attacks aren’t cool, I never say things like: ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

LAUGHTER IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL.

Something I truly value is humour and I CAN, at times, be hilarious. I’m at my best when I make me laugh. Laughing is good for the soul, so I laugh often. It also makes me happy.

MY SON PUT THIS COMMENT ON THE PHOTO. WAS HE TELLING ME SOMETHING?

I’m known in my family for being a nut and appreciate their tolerance because it is certainly true.

Don’t you agree?????

HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO MY SON RAFI, THE BEST FATHER I KNOW!!!

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I shall wear purple…

If you look hard, you can see some purple.

I’m a delicate flower. I’ve got allergies to lots of chemicals, so I’ve never dyed my hair. Tired of lock-downs and not seeing friends, I wanted to do something new. My bright idea was to colour my hair purple.

Do I look good in purple? No! I NEVER wear purple. And did I do a good job? Are you kidding? I did a better job spraying water on my kitchen floor than I did my hair and I’m still trying to get the colour out of my white counter. Still, if you look really hard you can see a little purple. You may laugh. I did.

Someone who loves me enough to tell the truth (and shall remain nameless) emailed: ‘Yes! I see it! But people may just think it is the “blue hair” of old ladies who try to brighten their grey and leave the stuff on too long!’

No matter…

Poet Jenny Joseph

I loved the following poem, ‘Warning’, long before I became old. You may too. Since this is National Poetry Month, this is a good time to revisit it. Enjoy!

‘Warning’ by Jenny Joseph (1932-2018)

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall wear purple

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beer-mats and things in boxes.

Guess she didn’t do any better than I did.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Whatever you do, have fun!!!

Note: Thanks Andrew for helping me find a gentle and safe dye to use.

Muriel says:

Had an email from daughter Susan saying she laughed out loud when she read the response I wrote a reader who commented on the ridiculous 40 cent adventure I had with FedEx. (See ‘I can hardly believe it myself…’ October, 2020)

Daughter Susan

Susan often laughs at stuff I say and decided to start posting them on Facebook. If truth be told, she’s as hilarious as I am any day and makes me laugh out loud too. And, when we get together, her poor husband Michael, usually quiet and normal, is perfectly capable of joining in with the nonsense.

Here’s the first in the series she plans:

Sports Medicine clinic…

photo by Chandra

Daughter Susan and I were having

There was a lot of laughter

one of our frequent crazy telephone conversations. As usual, there was a lot of laughter. This time she was amused because I’m seeing a ‘Sports Medicine’ clinic for my ancient, arthritic knee.

It IS funny since Susan knows very well I’m not into sports. Nor have I ever been — not even as a spectator.

At school, we played baseball in the

I doubt I ever hit a ball

summertime. I was the last chosen and usually ended up out in

Studying the daisies

field where I could contemplate the beauty of the daisies. I doubt I ever hit a ball. (I may have some attributes, but was always lousy at such things.)

Nor did I ever have a bike or learn how to ride one, although my husband and I rode a tandem which I managed not to upend. (But once HE did and I broke some toes.) I manage somewhat on my Exercycle, thank you, although I need to ice my knees later. It’s the only bike riding I do.

It may be I already had a vestibular disorder as a kid. Years later, I ended up being the co-founder, with Dr. Graham Bryce, of the B.C. Balance & Dizziness Disorders Society (BADD) and we managed to help many others with similar disorders.

In any case I was always a klutz, which was okay since I was also the first to be chosen for the debating team or class president (before said position was politicized) and renowned as the class artist.

So, after Susan and I cracked up on the phone about my non-existent athletic skills and my visiting a ‘Sports Medicine’ clinic, I received this photo clever Susan created. It is just too funny not to share with you. The face is mine, but that’s all I can honestly claim.

 

The face is mine, but that’s all I can honestly claim.

Hilarious, isn’t it?????

Hey, it’s son Rafi’s birthday today. I love him whole bunches! Wish him Happy Birthday!

 

Remy wins ten bucks….

photo by Chandra

Don’t feel neglected. I was just away having a grand time and wasn’t here to write a post. Visited daughter Susan and her Michael at their lovely home up in the mountains of Nevada. They spoiled me rotten. Susan is very funny and I laughed a lot. I also managed to have a good rest.

There’s much more for me to tell you about my visit with the kids, but I don’t have time right now. Rafi and Remy arrive here tomorrow, and my Chandra gets here Thursday. Yeah! I love them. I’m delighted. I’m busy. Shall tell you more when I get a chance…..

Michael keeps a careful watch while Remy DOES chop wood.

Michael, an extremely capable guy, not only made great coffee for me each morning, but can put his hand to just about anything and do it well. He showed my 11-year-old grandson, Remy, how to properly handle an axe when chopping wood and NOT hurt yourself. Remy, no slouch either, got it.

Son Rafi, Remy’s dad, didn’t think Remy would succeed at chopping wood. Ha, ha! He of little faith offered the boy $10 if he managed it. Remy did! Pay up Rafi!

Pay up Rafi!

There is no time……

We do  make time for laughter

A friend I like very much, and would love to see, called this week to suggest we meet for lunch. I was pleased. Between her calendar and mine, we were unable to find a day on which we were both free. No time to get together right now. Trudy and I decided we’d like to see “The Jungle Book’, playing now in local theatres. For two weeks we’ve been trying to find an afternoon on which we both can make it. It hasn’t been possible yet. All three of us are retired….

 

 

‘There is no time, no time,

Rafi visited and took hilarious photos

Not even for a kiss,

Not even for this,

Not even for this rhyme.’

These lines were in a poem our class memorized in grade four. I don’t remember who wrote it, but I’ve never forgotten this part. The author must have been, like me at present, in her golden years. It is so true….

Rafi has an app

I thought I was busy when I was a wife and mother of three, with a full-time job, plus being busy with two dogs, one cat, a gopher snake, a rabbit, three chickens, two birds, a lizard and a garden — which held much-loved plants the kids sometimes gave names to. I used to think that after the children grew up and went off on their own — hopefully each one taking part of the menagerie, my life would be simpler.

That time is here. I am comfortably ensconced in an apartment, my only living responsibilities the few straggly plants which refuse to die from neglect. This was to be the well-deserved, less-rushed phase of my life; a time for reflection and repose. After years of driving children to and from classes I’d have given my eyeteeth to attend, I would, at last, have time to pursue my own interests. Ha! Double ha!

Me as ‘Superman’ 8-year old Gabriel’s favorite

It now takes a larger investment of time just to keep my old body going. I am slower. Everything takes longer. Listen carefully and you can hear my arthritic joints creaking. Then there are all those ‘shoulds’. I ‘should’ spend some time on my Exercycle, which now sits in my bedroom taunting me. I ‘should’ do hand exercises for my painful fingers; neck exercises to retain flexibility; rotate my shoulder joints to help lessen their pain; toughen the muscles in my legs by stiffening them and lifting slowly to reduce stress on my oh-so painful knees; and if I were really good, do exercises to strengthen my core, plus ‘Kegal Exercises’ for my pelvic floor. I attend Arthritis exercise classes twice a week, was a loyal member of a weekly Tai Chi class for years until my knees became just too painful. I’m tired just thinking about all of it!

This body of mine is demanding more attention than I feel able to give. If I don’t walk each day, my stiff body rebels. I won’t even talk about the caring doctors who work hard at helping me keep it going and the time it takes for the many appointments I have with them.

Rafi with a beard thanks to the app

How do they do this? .

 

Afternoon naps, which used to be a treat, have now become a necessity.  Zzzzz. Then, there is my determination to reform poor eating habits and lose weight, meaning I must take the time to prepare decent meals. I’m exhausted by it all. Its absolutely hopeless.

Retired friends often say they don’t know how they ever had time to work. There was a time I didn’t understand what they were talking about. I sure do now.

However, we always find time for laughter.