Weeding

Jean

Have been gardening lately. Not my garden, but it really doesn’t matter. The garden is always a place where I find peace. This morning I spent repotting a bed of trees and shrubs. I had to toss several to the compost. The weeds had overtaken the plant, killing it, sadly. But I saved a good many. I pulled out the weeds choking the main plant, gave them new pots, lots of water, fresh soil. In this new environment, the shrubs will hopefully grow strong and healthy once again.

Sometimes when I garden, I think about and explore my mental health. So many people I know suffer from serious mental health issues and despite the increase in resources and support, the number of mental health concerns the general populace experiences seems more prevalent than ever before.

Why?

I think many are suffering battle fatigue. Yes, there are far too many individuals who have serious and significant mental health issues. But behind a good many of these stands an army ready to do battle with a demon they do not own; a demon they cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel, and for the most part, cannot understand. A monster conceived in the conflicted and confused consciousness of a loved one who is mentally unwell. The army – mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, friends who are family – they march into no-man’s man, again and again, fearful that while they may indeed win the battle, the war rages on. They have fought this battle before, battled the shifting demon. They are scarred, broken, and maimed.

How much can the soldier take before he himself succumbs to battle fatigue?
Support is not sacrifice. But for far too many, this is what it becomes. When you are in danger of losing yourself in the battle, retreat. That is not cowardly; it is not unkind. It is strategic. You cannot save anyone if you are yourself swallowed by the demon.

t

Family

Jean

If I could photograph happiness, I would have done that tonight.

My favourite place to dine is at my son’s kitchen table with my three noisy boisterous grandsons gathered round. Pizza for supper, beyond delicious as usual, and just the best company ever. I so wanted to pull out my phone, to capture the joy, but no one else had a phone at the table and I knew that if I pulled out mine, the moment would be gone. So I sat there, with my family, for almost an hour, and I revelled in the moment.

Because everything is brought to the kitchen table. All the stories, all the learning; the hopes and dreams, the arguments, the worries, the laughter, the love. (The off colour jokes they think they’re skipping past me. 😊)

I wish they’d remember these times. The bond between brothers, the bond between father and sons – it grows strong at the kitchen table. I wish they could see what I see. But it was just a moment and they’d probably forgotten it all before I pulled out of the driveway.

I’ll probably forget too, what we talked about, what we ate, how we looked. But not the feeling. It makes me smile. Always. It makes me feel like I have it all.

Happiness, love, family.

I guess I do.

What a crock!

Jean

Have you ever noticed that crock pots are a standard at thrift shops? And they’re in incredibly good shape! I have donated three or four over the years I’m sure … And I had another put aside for my next trip in over the road. But …

Tuesday I had supper with #1 son and the boys. Delicious as always. And cooked in a crock pot. Hmmmmm…

Gave Bear a lift up the road on my way home and commented on my full belly and how I should invite myself more often. 😉

”Do you guys always eat that good?” I asked.

”Gram, we’re talking about Dad here… “

Indeed … I wonder how I can wrangle a nightly invitation!

I came home and pulled the crock pot out of the Goodwill pile. This morning I used it. This afternoon I dined in fine style. Delicious. Meat so tender it just fell off my fork.

I may be a crock pot convert.

Crock pots! Twice loved!

2024

Jean

How quickly 2023 surrendered to 2024. Not quite sure where time goes but it most certainly does zip along. I’m not sure who I was talking to, but said person recently observed that at the age of 20, time moves along at about 20 km an hour; at age 40 it’s picked up speed a little and at 40 km an hour you’re feeling the wind in your hair; at age 60 …. well, you get the drift. Hang onto your hat!

It was a good year. Like all of them, there’s the occasional bump in the road, a few potholes and the odd detour you don’t expect, but when the countdown was done on New Year’s Eve I went to bed happy with who I am, where I am, and who’s here with me.

This past year I realized I am well and truly retired. And I am very much enjoying the change in lifestyle. I had a great career, worked with a lot of exceptional people, but that ship has sailed and while it’s quite lovely to visit the old stomping grounds or meet up with former colleagues who over the years also became good friends, I do NOT miss work. I’m too busy! It’s true. How often I’ve heard retirees say “don’t know where I found time to work” Ditto!

I had all these specific plans for retirement. Threw it all out the window and pretty much go with the flow now. Instead of writing ‘to do’ lists, I now write ‘today I did’ lists. (I am forever and always a list person … can’t change that … but they’ve changed focus.)

I was going to relearn the piano in 2023. I didn’t. Put it up for sale. Haven’t played in years and never particularly liked practicing anyway!

Was going to read more. I didn’t. Recently decided that you either read the book, write the book, or be the book. I read into my mid 40s, morning noon and night. It was good for me. A good book was a good place to go to escape all life’s disappointments, big and small. Then I crawled out of my cave and started writing and while I enjoy writing, it is easily the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Good writing is hard work! So I think I’ll adopt a ‘be the book’ kind of attitude. A mother-son trip last fall had me thinking ‘I need to do more of this!’ So two trips planned for the spring and hopefully lots of local exploring once we get through the dreary winter. (I am so not a winter person!) And I enjoy tons of indoor activities so plenty to keep me busy over the next couple months.

2023 was a good year for my boys too I think. Lots of firsts and lots of special and fun moments! It’s much easier to ‘be the book’ when you’re very young I think. Life puts no pressure on you, no expectations. Or it shouldn’t!

We had a new person come into our lives this year and she has brought peace and promise. It’s all good!

And … not that I’m suspicious … I’m not! But I do love my Tarot cards and I pulled from the pack I’ve had since I was a teenager, sooooo …

All roads are mine.

2024 looks like it’s gonna be stellar!

Boo!

Jean

One quick post before October slips into November. And what an October it’s been! Best ever I do believe. The weather’s been great, the company’s been fun, flat out busy, and a few loose ends tied up and put away. Appears to be a full moon tonight. Think I’ll send out a few spells. Black cats, cracks in the sidewalk, Friday the 13th. These supposed signs always bring me good feels. Boo! Watch out!

The Best I Could ….

Jean

Random thoughts on a drizzly Monday.

Made soap this morning. Had a vision in mind but didn’t exactly turn out as I wanted. “Oh, well,” I thought, “I did the best I could.” One thought leads to another and at the end of my musing, I came to the conclusion that ‘the best I could’ has, sadly, become too acceptable in too many places.

I heard a story once about a first rate pilot who one day ‘hesitated’ – only for a millisecond – but by nightfall had written his resignation letter. The best he could was not good enough.

I do not want to hire a plumber who did ‘the best he could’. Nor a doctor, an electrician, a teacher, a taxi driver, a chef, a carpenter, a housecleaner, a lawyer, a seamstress, a waitress or a soap maker. If you can’t do the job you are paid to do, you are, quite simply and quite clearly, in the wrong profession. But it doesn’t seem to matter.

It is rare to hear of anyone getting fired anymore. We are protected by unions, human rights, and a second chance society that provides training, mentoring, and supports for employees who thirty years ago would have been booted off the first rung of the ladder.

Here’s my soap. I’m going to try it again because upon reflection ‘the best I could’ could be a lot better.

This is the first batch. The second batch will be twice-loved tomorrow.

faux Foodie

Jean

Definitely not a foodie. I do not plan my vacations around food. My ‘spice’ cabinet is home primarily to salt and pepper and a half dozen commons that are most likely outdated. I hate to cook, hate to bake, and my mixer is an old handheld with one missing beater. But I do enjoy food. Lately I’ve been on the receiving end of quite a few invitations to dine and after coffee with a couple gal pals at the Blue Barrel yesterday I joined another old friend for supper at her home. Started with a roasted butternut squash soup, followed with quiche, tomato cucumber salad tossed with hibiscus glaze and finished up with tirimisu and espresso.

And I got to take home leftovers!

Leftovers. Ever and always twice loved!

someone else’s

not mine

😉