Thursday, or Thereabouts - April 4, 2019

On this day in 1953...

Time is such a contrary companion. When I want it to go fast, it crawls. When I want it to slow down, it slams into hyperdrive, and it never stands still no matter how much I plead. While it is an uncomfortable fact of life that many more years lie behind me than ahead of me, what these coming years will bring me is a mystery. And I do like a good mystery, a hands-on adventure!

What I don't like is the toll time and adventure exacts on the human body, mine particular. For some ten years now, my body has betrayed me in small but undeniable, occasionally embarrassing, ways. I have lowered a few expectations and let go of any notion of realizing a few dreams. So you won't find me mountain climbing in the Swiss Alps, playing ice hockey, ski jumping, white water kayaking, surfing the perfect wave in Hawaii, or even doing something so risky as drinking a full glass of water a half hour before a car ride. I have adapted but not quit.

Recently a friend and fellow blogger, Leueen Willoughby, began writing a series about how she and others of vintage years, resist being defined or limited by age. Leueen's answer, with a tip of the hat to Clint Eastwood, is: "Don't let the old gal in." I like that approach. Thank you Leueen!

Some mornings, the old gal thumps on my front door, uninvited, unscheduled, unwelcome. But there she is with her arthritis, her resentment, and melancholia, moaning about getting old. Sometimes she pushes to get a foot in the door as she wails about her missing favourite pen, her journal, or her cell phone because she can't for the life of her remember where she left them. I may listen to and even commiserate with her for a moment. The old gal is after all a helpful reminder that I've let myself get tired, or bored, or that I've eaten poorly. I can fix those things and the lost always get found ... eventually.

I have things to do and places to go. You will find me working out, walking, eating as I ought (most of the time!), enjoying a glass of wine, cooking up a cultural feast at home or perhaps sipping a cappuccino in a faraway place. You will find me in the company of the people I love, doing the things I love, in the places I love, and grateful for the love and life I am so blessed to experience.

I am NOT letting that old gal in either!
       And besides, there's a new kid on the block...a granddaughter.

©2019 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - October 15, 2018

A slow, dreary start on this Monday in October.

The pitter-patter of rain stirred me from deep slumber this morning. It was joined by the snuffling snores from both the man beside me and the furry beast at the foot of the bed. The gloomy light suggested it was still early, much too early to get up. I turned onto my side, curling up into the warm blankets - ah, bliss... until sleep-blurred eyes cleared enough to register the illuminated digits on the bedside clock. 

Microseconds later my vintage bladder issued both a congratulatory note about sleeping through the night along with an imminent overflow alert. My sluggish body protested every movement but verticality was achieved - okay, so maybe not quite plumb-bob vertical but the maximum allowable on a flood-threatening bladder. Ten determined yet a tad wobbly steps got me to the bathroom. Victory was mine!

Much relieved and now dressed, I left the two sleeping beauties behind and sauntered off to the kitchen. Head and shoulders, knees and toes resisted my progress, but I had coffee on my mind, a good caffeine ladened Americano with a soothing dose of 18% cream. The heady aroma of a fresh-pulled triple espresso awakened my senses. Streaming hot water into the mug, I inhaled even more of caffeine's stimulating incense. Licking my lips in anticipation I poured the luscious cream into the rich black liquid, watching for the swirls of darkness and light.

"No! No! NO!" I screamed as clumps of curdled cream rose to perform a macabre dance. What outrage! What cruelness! What treachery is this?

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down...

...but then again, grey days make colours pop and details come to life!

On the street where I live

Rome 2005 - waiting to get into the Vatican Museum

Reykjavik 2018 - The Sun Voyager & friends

Reykjavik 2018

Lerwick, Scotland 2018

Mousa - Shetlands, Scotland 2018

Yesnaby Cliffs, Scotland 2018

Have a great week folks!



©2018 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - September 17, 2018

The day began badly...

A steaming cappuccino to my left, I began my day with a leisurely scroll through my Facebook® news feed. The second drag of the mouse wheel brought me to this little pearl of wisdom:

One day, you'll just be a memory to some people.

Do your best to be a good one.

How lovely - NOT! I got blindsided by the first statement. It dropped me into a bucket of dreck where I spun and sputtered and sprawled for much too long. At the 65 year mark on the wheel of life, that "one day" is not as far away as it used to be!

A life review movie flashed across my mind in a uniquely unimpressive trailer that lasted all of 2 seconds. Panic wicked up the hairs on my neck - omg I'd better get out there and do something spectacular, sensational, significant; something memorable and above all good because time is running short and I haven't done anything meaningful ... not a single indelible accomplishment to my credit...

My gut curdled. My morning soured.
I shrank from the day. I shrank from life.
Oh, woe is me!









But remember that steaming cappuccino? It was still there. Still hot. Still fragrant. Still fresh from my Love's hand.

I took the warm cup in my hands, turned from my desk and headed out into the dappled sunshine of the deck. A warm and still very humid morning greeted me. Heavy dew blanketed not only the lawn but also the coated the windows with dampness. Still, the air was fragrant with a rich earthiness that was wonderfully restorative. Perspective flowed back into my soul. Gratitude overcame self-doubt. Sunshine blasted away the darkness. And caffeine evicted the doldrums.

And outside my door, the day really looks like this:

At least the trees know the summer is over!

And of course, my life is not a wasteland.
I cannot orchestrate what others will remember of my life on some distant day.
I can and will, do my best with each day I'm given.
So be it.





©2018 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - July 30, 2018

Yesterday, torrential rain and hail blasted through these parts in all of ninety minutes. This intrepid storm watcher was fascinated by it all. As the winds were coming from the north to northwest, I closed up those windows then continued my watch. I alternated between tracking the storm on weather radar and watching it all coming down outside my windows. I was in my element. Then the wind shifted. In seconds, rain obliterated the screens on the open south windows of the sunroom. The wood floor I worked so hard on to reclaim and polish was getting wet. I rushed in to get those darn windows closed.




My right foot shot out from under me like a watermelon seed and down I went.

 The #1 thing that scares me, a gal of vintage years, is falling and breaking something, especially a hip. So there I lay on the wet floor, at first unable to move and feeling only panic beginning to wick up my body. I've really done it this time, I thought. What an idiot!

A few minutes later as the pain and shock subsided, as the very concerned dog licking my face became annoying, the panic and self-recriminations eased.




I was able to get up off the floor without assistance - so clearly my hips were working. My left knee, which had been tucked up behind me, seemed to get the worst of it so I iced it and rested for the rest of the day and evening. This morning the knee is working fine. It's bruised but otherwise moving as it ought. But my right shoulder is not happy. It's muscle type pain so I'll just have to grin and bear it. Oh and maybe rest it a bit too.

This truly is a Monday MOANING!  

There will be no gym today. No lawnmowing. No garden work. No housework!

On second thought maybe this is not so bad? The sun is shining and my gladiolus blooms are rejoicing in the sunshine.

Be careful out there, folks. Watch out for wet floors.

©2018 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 21, 2018

Schwartz sits calmly atop my backpack ready to go. His packing is done. Seasoned traveler that he is, he really knows how to pack light! Actually he just really knows how to choose the best sherpas. AND he knows how to have fun!

"He is truly wise who has traveled far and knows the ways of the world."

Meanwhile, I'm in danger of being clobbered by an ever-faster swirling tether ball of things to do before Tuesday's flight to Iceland. With just five (5, FIVE!!) days to go until departure, the accumulation of scribbled post-it notes, scrawled lists and neat entries in the official travel prep booklet does not seem to be diminishing as planned.

This was supposed to be the most organized departure ever. This was supposed to be the least stressful departure ever. Of course, I make these predictions every time we travel.

Each adventure teaches me how to pack less clothing. Coordinating pieces, washable, crushable, rollable are de rigueur.





But with the turn of the age clock to the 65 mark, the "drug bag" expands with every adventure. The trip to China in 2014 taught me a tough lesson: always travel with the over-the-counter medications I know work for me. Prescription meds, of course, are never optional. So the little pharmacy store in a kit bag needs an expansion.

What would truly ease the space problem would be to have pill bottles that were actually more full than empty. We're told it's important to have meds in original bottles with original labels. Well, that's no longer just for customs and border control folks. With so many capsules and pills at hand, it's hard (and maybe dangerous!) for me to remember what's what based solely on size, shape, and colour. So the drug bag has acquired a pup trailer.

All part of growing up?  AND going on adventures!

This time the adventure addicts (the vintage edition - tee hee) are heading first to Iceland then flying to Bergen, Norway to start a cruise following the midnight sun (Bergen, Geiranger Fjord, Molde, Tromso, Honningsvag, and Lofoten) followed by Scotland (The Shetlands, The Orkneys, and Edinburgh) and ending in London. Oh, the places we're going!

I gotta get back on track with the mighty ToDo list. I'll let you know Monday how I fare.

In the meantime - Happy Summer!

©2018 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - August 18, 2016

Let's go to the Ex!

The proclamation of the end of summer, the return to school and the resumption of regularly scheduled programming bellows to life tomorrow. Yes folks it's that time again - the Canadian National Exhibition, (aka the CNE or The Ex) 2016 edition, opens for the 138th time in its history.

The last time I was there was 1995.

The best part? Meeting up with my Mom - sharing the memories of bygone years with my daughter.

I'd love to go the Ex again!


I say that every year but as much as I think I would love to go to Ex, I have to concede that the CNE I want to go to is the one I went to as a child in the 1960's.

Teens and adults alike camped out for days in order to be the first through the Princes' Gates. Coming from Etobicoke in the west end of the city, our usual entrance was through the somewhat less grand, yet no less exciting, Dufferin Gate.

After a bus to Jane and Bloor followed by two streetcars, my older sister and I made our way into the fairgrounds, heading straight to the fountain, as per Dad's instructions,

"Meet me at the fountain."

The Dufferin Gate, ca. 1960

Then it was on to the Midway, passing by the Press Building, the Better Living Centre, the
Grandstand, and the Food Building.

I'm not sure why but the Food Building was rarely if ever, a permissible stop along the way. Perhaps it was the crowds. Perhaps neither Dad (nor Mom on those few occasions that she came with us) trusted the quality of the offerings. Perhaps it was because they really didn't want us to have a taste of what we could not afford.

Candy floss - which one year ended up as a pink decoration on the back of a man's brown suit . For the record it was my sister's candy floss, not mine. Mine was blue!

Warm ice cream waffles, most of which melted before making it into my mouth, leaving sticky hands and clothes. Dad was not amused.

Sometimes a Corn dog or a few Tiny Tom donuts were the treats of the day.

Flash forward to this year's food offerings at the Ex and I think perhaps my folks restraint still has some merit. Fried butter is so very SIX years ago. 2016 is all about crispy cricket dogs, pulled pork cinnamon buns and steaklairs.

Rainbow Grilled Cheese - image courtesy of  BlogTo

Want to see more of the 2016 food offerings? Check it out here.

But who cares about the food? The rides are where it's all at!

The Midway 1966

Being all of 10 years old my faves were pretty tame: the Ferris Wheel (in later years even the double Ferris Wheel), the carousel and it's souped up sister the Derby Racer, the Dodge 'ems and something called the Polar Express. The games of chance were always a huge disappointment for me. Every year it looked so easy to get that dime onto a plate, or shoot down big yellow ducks as they moved across the shooting gallery. Every year I wasted way too many dimes. And there were tears.

In 1975 my cousin Claire, just a visitor from England, manage to get her coin (by then not 10¢ but 25¢) on the plate. I wasted my quarters - again - but didn't cry, well not really. Okay maybe just a prickling around my eyes...it was sooo not fair!

Back to the 60's - I well recall the year, Dad gave my sister and I $5 to spend on rides (rides back then were 25¢) while he went off exploring some of the buildings. My sister, six years my senior, had different tastes when it came to rides. Not only did she con me into going on the Wild Mouse, she put me in the front seat of those little two-seater cars. Sheer terror! The first and last time I have ever been on a roller coaster.   

  

The Wild Mouse, 1965

Touring the back alleys of the sideshows was always an adventure - fun (weird people) and scary (snakes and really weird people). But it was a place my Dad loved. In the mid-1930's he had worked as a carny with the Conklin brothers at these amusement shows during the summer. It helped pay  his way through university. 

Back then freak shows were a hit - "Believe it or not!" Spectacles we would today find quite despicable today, were all the rage. 

As we walked along Dad would begin to recite the well-practiced banter: 

"Ernie and Len - Four arms, four legs, two bodies with but a single head.
Come in and see them now." 

"Sonteega the headless woman, decapitated in a train accident in Reading, England.
Doctors don't know how long she may live. Come in and see her now!"

Hoppy the Frog Boy, The Fat Lady ("My, but She is FAT") and the snake charmers were in his repertoire too, though few of the characters remained part of the 1960's sideshows. I only 'saw' them through my Dad's recitation, yet I'd go home and parrot Dad's banter to all the neighbourhood kids. They may have been to the Food Building but they never got to see the wonders of the back alley side shows. 

Let's go to the Ex!

I'll show you Ernie and Len, Sonteega and maybe some of the others...

Meet me at the fountain.

©2016 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - August 15, 2016

Out of Reach

I will never look this good! 

I skipped out of the house this morning, brand new gym bag slung over my shoulder - woman on a mission.  I was heading to the fitness centre for the first time since March and I was so ready to get back at it after too many months of illness. It was time to snatch that really snazzy Lululemon® tote bag, a Mother's Day gift from my 2+2 children, off the back of a chair and get both of us working out.








Five minutes after leaving the house, I realized I'd left my smartphone at home. I knew exactly where it was - on the kitchen table. I almost turned the car around, but then my inner judge, a very close relative of my inner critic, swung her gavel in the air at me, "You don't need it!" With a sharp crack, the gavel smacked me down.

She was right! At most I would be gone from home for 2 hours, and most of that time I would be unavailable anyway (workout or driving). So just what would I need the phone for? Well I'd be out of reach for a whole 120 minutes. What's the big deal? Back in the days of the landline only I'd be away from the home phone for 8+ hours and life went on.

Oh but this is a smartphone! What about all those text messages? Get real - I'm in no danger whatsoever of overworked digits or walking into things while glued to text on a screen.

At the risk of showing my age,  real conversation means real listening and there's a phone for that. Or better yet, get together in person.

Well then, what about all those bleeting news alerts ? OMG - I might not know about some tragedy, some atrocity, the latest political lunacy or maybe even a flash of good news, in real time. So what? I can play catch up in my own time and there's a radio for that.





When did it become so essential to be connected all the time, to not just have smartphones, but to wear them - everywhere, all the time? I know there are situations that demand such vigilance. For years while my mother was in long term care, I carried my cell phone (no smarts about it!) everywhere - yes including the bathroom.


She died six years ago. Now I'm retired. There are no business deals or critical incidents that need my immediate input. There isn't anyone out there who truly needs me to be available 24/7.

What is so wrong with being out of reach for a while? What is wrong with choosing when and where to be available to receive all the news and images, information and advertising, email and spam?

NOTHING! 

I'm reminded of a story about adult children and their older parent. The mom lived alone in a house without a phone (imagine that!?). The adult children concerned for her safety, convinced her to get a landline. After it was installed the kids called several times but there was no answer. They rushed over to the house, to find mom sitting in her chair knitting. "Mom, why didn't you answer the phone?"

"The phone is there for my convenience and when it is convenient, I'll answer it." she said without so much as looking up from her wool and needles.

My lesson of the day - more of a reminder than a lesson:

My smartphone is there for my convenience, 

and when it's convenient, I'll use it.

In my own time, I'll respond to the beeps, clicks and ring tones. And yes, I will take it with me when heading out for a bit, but I won't panic if I leave it behind. When the mood strikes me, I'll use its amazing power to explore the world. Otherwise, I'll be at the gym, or writing, or day dreaming, or cooking, or just exploring the real world outside my door.

It is good for the soul to be out of reach from time to time.

©2016 April Hoeller