My mother, who lived through two world wars and a depression, used to tell me that often. Now that we are living through a pandemic, these words ring just as true today.

We see creative solutions everywhere these days. Many businesses like GM have re-tooled from making cars and trucks to constructing surgical face shields. Clothing manufacturers are switching from pants and tops to couture face masks. Distilleries have moved from single malt scotch to hand sanitizer. Restaurants are re-opening with tables two meters apart and patio spaces expanded onto sidewalks. One creative restaurateur seats mannequins at empty tables, mannequins dressed in high-end fashions which are, of course, for sale. Eat and shop at the same time.

Performance companies are working hard to find audiences through live-streamed performances. We can watch performers dancing around their dining room table, or playing an instrument on the basement couch beside their dog. David Mirvish posts a weekly newsletter with trivia quizzes and contests. Patrons are asked to create new songs for the times. Last week’s winner was a song from the musical Hamilton with new words to “I Am Not Throwing Away My (Vaccine) Shot!

Sports teams like hockey, basketball and baseball are considering televised games with cardboard cutout people in the stands and canned cheering. Outdoor venues, like the zoo, are figuring out how to keep people safe and separate in their cars while doing a zoo safari. Arts patrons can see several different Van Gogh paintings digitally presented on the walls of a large factory-like setting while sitting in the comfort of their cars.

Closer to home, my husband Peter and I were faced with figuring out how to celebrate a family milestone, my brother’s 70th birthday. Not only that but his partner also has the same birthday on the same day. This was an event not to be ignored just because of some virus. But how to celebrate safely? After discovering that the birthday couple did not want to meet us in a park somewhere, we decided to take our little party to them.

First we had to come up with a menu from ingredients we already had on hand at home. I found a simple brunch recipe with eggs and ham, and a cake recipe with fresh rhubarb from the garden. As the cake came out of the oven I suddenly remembered: “Oops, my brother doesn’t even Like rhubarb!” Quickly I covered up the cake with an icing that masked the rhubarb taste. Then we found a bottle of old, I mean well-aged, champagne in the basement that would go well with some orange juice we had in the fridge.

Next we needed a gift. Since there are no malls open yet, our shopping venues are limited. But the drug store always welcomes us. So we picked up a few goodies the birthday folks might find useful in their eighth decade: polident, arthritis cream, a laxative; things like that. A very thoughtful gift, don’t you think? We were almost ready to go. Except for one last little issue….

The drive to my brother’s house takes about 2 hours so we were going to need a bathroom stop. Hmmm…..First I thought about buying a box of Depends. But really, did I want to buy a big box of diapers just to have one? Besides, where was I going to hide the box? Heaven help me if the grandchildren spotted it in a cupboard while they were playing hide and seek. I could just hear them chanting: “Nana wears diapers!” all around the neighbourhood.

Then we remembered that there was a Tim Horton’s on the route. We we all set. We packed up the car and headed off to the makeshift party. But when we got to the Timmy’s, the bathrooms were closed. Oh oh…I crossed my legs and began scanning the horizon. Further down the road we spotted a forest. Peter stood guard while I hopped over a ditch and ran into a clump of trees. Unfortunately the trees had prickly needles and some got stuck in my underwear.

All in all, the impromptu backyard party was a big success. We exchanged stories and hugs from a distance. My brother didn’t notice the rhubarb in the cake. Neither did he seem to notice as I squirmed around, trying to get comfortable while sitting on prickly needles for two hours.

Sue

Even now that the pandemic curve is slowly flattening, physical distancing is strongly encouraged. Walking outside is good, but walking in our own neighbourhoods is best. For my husband Peter and me, our neighbourly Humber River has become a lifesaver.

We are not the first travellers to stroll along the banks of the Humber River. In fact this river has been a pathway for First Nations people and explorers for more than Twelve Thousand Years! Archaeological evidence shows that Paleo-Indian nomads first wandered along its banks from 10,000 BC, followed by the Archaic People and then woodland farmers, who used the river to set up farming sites from around 1,000 BC until the 1500’s.

In 1615 Etienne Brulé became the first European to walk the valleys of the Humber River, from Lake Simcoe to Lake Ontario. Soon other Europeans followed this route, which became known as the Carrying Place Trail. Another well-known European, my husband, has been following this trail too, ever since he immigrated from Italy in 1958.

Peter’s first house, where he lived with his mother and his older brother, was near Black Creek, a tributary of the West Humber. He says that, when his mom wanted him to do chores, he used to sneak away on his bike and ride along the river. When he got married, his first house was near the West Humber and he took his kids for nature walks there. Then the family moved to King City where a branch of the East Humber was almost in their back yard.

My first acquaintance with the Humber River was when I met Peter. On one of our early “dates” he took me wandering through the snowy forest near his King City house. Not watching where I was going, I suddenly plunged through the snow into water, soaking my boot and pant-leg. “Well,” he said, “there you are in a branch of the mighty Humber River!” I was not impressed at the time.

Our new house in the city is located south of where the many branches of the Humber merge into one, and the river flows resolutely towards Lake Ontario. We can walk the riverside trail south from near our house, and under the iconic Humber Bridge, until we reach the lake. Or we can walk north, across the heritage-designated Etienne Brulé bridge and past several waterfalls where salmon jump upstream during October. The river path carries on to highway 401, and all the way north past the McMichael Gallery in Kleinberg. We haven’t walked that far…yet.

We have also paddled on the Humber; once a few years ago going north from Sunnyside beach, and again last fall on the 20th anniversary of the river being designated a Heritage River. The TRCA hosted a paddling celebration for the public. We joined in and went south from the Old Mill to the lake. With old people, teenagers, dogs and kids, it was a paddling party!

The Humber River hasn’t always been so accommodating. Back in October, 1954, Hurricane Hazel swept furiously down the river, flooding its banks, destroying bridges and homes, and killing 81 people. But these days, as we search for somewhere outside where we can briefly escape from our home to enjoy the outdoors, the Humber River, keeping a safe distance away, is our companion.

Stay safe and keep walking.

Sue

For many of us this past weekend marked the beginning of summer. What? You are surprised because we had snow last week, restaurant patios aren’t serving yet, large public fireworks displays are not allowed, the Blue Jays aren’t swinging their bats, and there are no campgrounds open? Well this is the new normal for us: a summer like no other. We have to make do.

On the Friday of the Victoria Day weekend we invited our son Daniel and his family to come over for a BBQ lunch on disposable plates, in the back yard, two meters apart. We woke up to rain, and it rained all morning. Since we can’t have people in the house, we began planning curbside pick-up for the food. But suddenly it stopped raining. We wiped the outdoor furniture and started the BBQ. It was a May 2-4 Miracle. When the guests arrived we enjoyed our lunch outside, the first burgers of the season. Just as we swallowed our last bites, it started to rain again, and the guests ran to their car.

On the second day of the weekend the weather turned beautiful and we went for a walk on the nearby path along the river. We invited another son to join us because they have a dog and nobody goes for a walk in this neighbourhood without a dog. The path was pretty crowded with other families and dogs out for a dose of sun and freedom, so we cut our walk short and went home for a beer instead.

On the next day of the weekend our grand daughter invited us to visit her back yard and share her Victoria Day projects. She and her mom served us a delicious Victorian sponge cake and, from a distance, she sang us a song with lyrics which included the names of all the Kings and Queens of England. How patriotic. How ambitious! Clearly her home-schooling is working out alright.

At home again in the evening we heard the sound of fire crackers. We put on our raincoats and walked around the neighbourhood until we found several folks gathered, socially distanced on the street and sidewalk, watching an impromptu display of fire works donated by a neighbour. At the end we all clapped. But what I really wanted to do was give this man a hug for bringing us together, for this traditional celebration, as close as we were allowed.

Yesterday I was wondering how to cap off this iconic weekend with something exciting, a suitable ending for my blog post today. I checked with my editor, Peter, to see if he had any suggestions. “Well,” he said, “there’s a chipmunk in the garage and he’s trying to get into the house. Will that do?”

I abandoned my laptop and went running out to see. This could be the ending I needed! “Oh Chippy,” I begged, “come on out from your hiding place!” Instead he hid in one corner after another, leading us around the garage in circles, and ignoring the open garage door. Next Peter started banging loudly on some old pots and pans while I tried to direct Chippy outside with a broom. No deal. Then Peter got the car keys and began honking the horn. The sound echoing in the garage was deafening. Chippy stayed out of sight, but some neighbours dropped in to see if we were OK. “Yes” we told them. “Just having a little May 2-4 fun!” As we chatted, I noticed the chipmunk sneaking by, headed for the river.

Looking back, I can say that the weekend was just like any other Victoria Day weekend: burgers, sun, beer, family gatherings, fireworks, chipmunks…Well maybe it wasn’t exactly the same, but we made do.

Sue

PS Here’s a sign of hope: our bougainvillea plant just after Christmas, and again yesterday.

This past weekend we celebrated two special occasions – our wedding anniversary and Mothers’ Day – covid style.

Last May on our anniversary, the first one after we moved from the country to the city, my husband Peter and I made reservations at the iconic Old Mill restaurant which is very close to where we now live. We had a delicious 5-course meal in elegant surroundings, and danced to the music of a talented pianist. This year we decided to do the same. Sort of.

After discovering that the Old Mill does not do take-out, I donned my shopping outfit – mask and disposable gloves – and headed for No Frills at 6:45 am. I managed to grab one of only 2 prime rib roasts, and unearthed a cheesecake from the bottom of a freezer. Later that day Peter and I walked to the main street where Peter hit up Sunnyland Produce for 2 bags of salad ingredients, and I went to the LCBO where I got 2 bottles of our favourite red wine, packaged in 2 separate paper bags. That way we were able to use the bags and bottles to do arm exercises on our way home. I am REALLY missing my exercise classes.

On Saturday, the morning of our anniversary, we heard that the Snow Birds would do a fly-past along the Lake Ontario waterfront. How nice of them to honour us this way! So we walked down to the lake, which took about 40 minutes, and then we discovered that the fly-past had been cancelled due to bad weather. In the afternoon we ate chips as our appetizer course. Then we cooked the roast, tossed the salad, and opened the wine, one bottle each. (Only kidding!). We lit a couple of slightly used candles, and danced around the kitchen to the music of Alexa.

On Sunday morning, Mothers’ Day, we learned that the fly-past had been rescheduled and, if we hurried, we could be down at the waterfront in time to see the Snow Birds.We looked out the window and saw, to our horror, that it was snowing. Really? In May?? We got our winter coats out of storage, put on our boots, and rushed down to the lake, just in time to see 30 seconds or less of the Snow Birds as they whizzed by.

Then we had to rush home because my son and his wife were planning to drop by for a socially distanced back yard visit. We took a short-cut which involved a lot of climbing hills. As we started up the first one, our grand daughter Agnes called, planning to say Happy Mothers’ Day. Instead, she said: “Nana, why are you puffing and panting so much?” As we continued climbing, she played us her 3 newest piano pieces, and the hills were alive with the sound of music. (Sorry – I couldn’t help myself).

We arrived home in time to greet James and Glenda armed with sweet buns and cupcakes. Yum – lunch! As we sat around in the back yard, 2 meters apart and munching, the rain/snow mix started up again and we had to retreat under some umbrellas. After a short while, everyone was getting cold and in need of a bathroom, so our visit ended.

Peter and I went inside to watch a movie and finish off the cupcakes. Then we heard a knock at the door – another son, Daniel, visiting with his family and more desserts. Yum – dinner! More sitting in the back yard, 2 meters apart and munching. This visit was cut short too for the same reasons; too cold and no bathroom available.

After Daniel and his family left, I went back inside to warm up. Then I noticed Peter was still outside, holding a measuring tape. What on earth was he up to? Well, in case the pandemic goes on much longer, he was looking for a spot to build a little back yard outhouse for our guests. I got thinking; maybe grey on the outside, some nice flowered wallpaper inside, a scented candle, a little rug…could be quite cozy.

Dear readers, please stay safe, and try to enjoy the new normal that is our lives.

Sue

While things may seem relatively peaceful these days, at our home in the city we are fighting a war.

Last fall, in an attempt to postpone the coning winter, I ordered ten new colourful tulip bulbs. The name, “Orange Emperor,” had caught my attention. I waited patiently for them to arrive in the mail, but after a while I checked the catalogue and learned that the bulbs would only be shipped to me when it was safe to plant them. These tulips were going to be very fussy.

Finally the big day arrived. I carefully removed the promising bulbs from their packaging and, following the instructions, dug down 8 inches, added some coarse gravel for drainage, and then some good potting soil. Nothing but the best for my new tulips. I watered them carefully according to their schedule, until it was time for nature to take over. I tearfully said good-bye and told them to have a good winter. Then I promptly forgot about them.

About 10 days ago I noticed some strange leaves popping up – similar in shape to other tulip leaves, but with burgundy stripes. What could they be? Then I remembered my Orange Emperors – a lovely surprise in the middle of a pandemic. I watched them as they grew taller and started to show some colour. There was one that was clearly ahead of the pack; I could detect orange petals! One more day of sunshine, I thought, and it would be in full bloom. I went to bed as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve.

Early the next morning I put on my housecoat, grabbed my phone, and rushed out to photograph this beauty. It was gone. No tell-tale petals anywhere. Only a stem remained. My tulip had been beheaded. I looked around and saw the carnage: two other tulips that had been about to bloom were headless too. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a black squirrel running past. He had a guilty look on his face and telltale orange on his lips. Honest!

Now I know some readers were upset by a recent post where I lambasted a skunk for digging up our back lawn as he was hunting for grubs. Some readers were upset when Peter threw baseballs at him. Some readers were quick to point out that skunks kill a lot of harmful insects. Well OK but who could possibly defend a nasty squirrel eating the tops off those gorgeous tulips?

I searched the internet for weapons. I read that human hair around the base of the plants works. We certainly have lots of extra human hair right now, if only we were brave enough to cut it. Another useful deterrent is garlic. Being married to an Italian, I always have access to garlic, in the fridge and in the garden, but unfortunately not planted near the tulips. The best defense, according to one site, is a spray called “Super Hunter,” also super expensive at $17 a bottle – more than the cost of the bulbs themselves! But in a war, no price is too high.

Meanwhile, Peter searched the garage and found something we used to chase creatures from our vegetable garden in the country. Called a “Scarecrow,” this gadget with a motion detector gets hooked up to a hose. When the creatures walk by they set off a sprinkler and get sprayed. That’s the idea anyway. All I know is that our grandchildren love running through it.

So now we are fully armed, with spray and Scarecrow, on a mission to save our remaining 7 tulips. But if they fail, we’ll have to resort to 24-hour surveillance. I’m not sure how long Peter will last sleeping outside on the swing, especially when the temperature gets below zero. So if you know anyone out of work, I might have the perfect job.

Sue

Now that we are stuck at home, we have time to learn new things: card games, dance moves, how to empty the electric pencil sharpener, and more…

A number of people have retreated to their kitchens to do some new learning. There are aspiring bread-makers throughout the country, and flour is flying off grocery store shelves almost as fast as toilet paper. So far I have stuck to my favourite recipes, except for biscotti, but a few days ago when it was rainy and dreary, I tackled a cookie recipe that called for 13 ingredients, an hour of chopping, and another hour of arm-breaking stirring. It was a good way to get some arm exercise and make 96 cookies at the same time. Multi-tasking!

Many of us are learning more about technology, especially social media. In our need to stay connected, we are circulating jokes, videos, stories, exercise routines, travelogues, news clips, and chain letters, non-stop, like a virtual merry-go-round. If we abandon our ipads for even an hour, to make some bread for example, we come back to a screen full of messages. When we are bored with that, we can facetime our grandchildren. When Agnes facetimes us, she carries us around the house, upstairs and downstairs, showing us her latest projects. When we get to the piano she lays us down so we can study the ceiling while she plays her latest favourite piece. When Ben calls, he shows us his new painting project and then knocks over the paint water. Oops “Daddy!”

Slowly we older people are stretching our minds even further – to live-streaming, Ted Talks, podcasts. This online connecting is a great skill for us. As we become less mobile, for whatever reason, we can still be in touch with the world. We’re learning other skills online too, such as how to sew personal face masks. I decided to give one a try but I had no material so I looked around the house. An old dishtowel had horizontal stripes which made my face look fat. A piece of faux fur looked comfy but it was too hot. My husband Peter’s T-shirts were too holey plus he didn’t want to give them up. Finally I had to sacrifice one of my summer tops. But maybe we’ll be stuck inside all summer anyway and I can just stay in my pyjamas…. Noooooo!!!!!

In the bathroom we are learning new grooming skills too. Who knew it was so hard to cut your own toenails? When we aren’t as flexible as we used to be, it’s a long way down there to the end of your feet. And of course the hair – too long and too grey. Not a good look. So in desperation one day, I got out the hair dye kit which I had purchased in a moment of bravery, and read the pamphlet carefully. The disposable gloves didn’t scare me at all since I wear them to the grocery store every Monday at 7:00 am. But the part that said: ” dispose of any unused product immediately to avoid danger of exploding and harmful projectiles”? Well that was a bit unnerving.

I updated my will, put on my disposable gloves, and headed down to the laundry room in the basement, where I figured an explosion would do the least damage. And today I am alive to tell you that things worked out fine: I am a blonde again and the house is intact. Sometimes you have to take risks when you want to get ahead.

Now I am trying to think of another scary, I mean exciting, learning skill to tackle. If you have any suggestions, please share them.

Sue

PS stop looking for a photo – there isn’t one. I mean, did you really want to see my overgrown toenails?

The covid 19 pandemic continues, and my husband Peter and I search daily for new places to walk in our neighbourhood.

One day we checked out a website that has maps indicating which homes in a neighbourhood have a heritage designation. We followed the map to the home of Archibald Thompson. Thompson was the first landowner in our area and he was big – 200 acres big! He cultivated farmlands and orchards and plunked his big farmhouse in the middle. He was practising social distancing way back in 1855, long before any virus had hit the city. The farmhouse, with a few modifications such as bathrooms and a garage, is still a stately family home today.

On other days we walk north to the local shopping area for essentials such as Sunnyland produce, banking, and hair dye. Then we go home by way of the cemetery. Park Lawn Cemetery is a heritage site too. It was opened and managed by a group of farmers back in 1892. It now holds over 22,000 graves, and there is still empty space. A sign along the fence tells passers-by that there are “New Lots Available! Come On In!”

As we sneak in, a safe distance from the sales office, we look for graves of dignitaries that are buried there. So far we have found the resting places of hockey greats Con Smythe and Harold Ballard, and musician Jeff Healey. Other well-known figures who live there forever are Gus Ryder, Gordon Sinclair, and Robert Home Smith, the original land developer for the Kingsway area.

The most disturbing monument is one dedicated to the “British Home Children.” Between 1869 and 1948 British couples often sent their children to Canada to escape war or sometimes extreme poverty. The children, who came by steamship, were often mistreated and overworked. Many died in childhood, and 75 of them are buried at Park Lawn. In 2017, a group of community-minded citizens raised some money to build a memorial to those children. The monument is topped with a porthole reclaimed from one of the steamships used to transport the children. Below the porthole are the names and ages of all 75 of them.

It’s very safe for walkers in the cemetery. Nobody ever coughs on us. There are no teenagers gathered to party. The bodies of the residents are buried not only 6 feet under, but 6 feet apart as well. There are lots of flowers to admire, although most of them are plastic. There are loving messages and candles on many graves, candles that will burn forever in the minds of the bereaved families.

It’s very peaceful in the cemetery too. But one day recently we made some noise – when we saw deer! Could these be the same deer that we saw in our back yard a few weeks ago? We called out to them but they didn’t seem to recognize us. Fortunately we had just been to Sunnyland, and Peter was not giving up. He pulled some lettuce out of his bag and held it up, running after them and yelling “Deer, deer, come and get some lettuce! Nice and fresh, just for you!!” The deer turned and ran the other way, looking for a place to stay safe.

Dear readers, please stay safe too. And stay out of cemeteries, unless you are just going for a walk.

Sue

As all of us created new ways to celebrate Easter this year, it will be a celebration we will never forget.

My husband Peter and I began the festivities by buying our grandchildren some Easter treats, the kind you might find at a drug store while you were picking up a prescription. Then we had to figure out how to deliver them. We saw a rabbit in the back yard on Saturday, but he was occupied eating my new tulips, so we scared him away and didn’t even consider offering him the Easter Bunny delivery job.

Then we decided to use the Nana and Nonno Delivery Express. We would drive to each of our children’s homes, sit in their back yards, 2 meters apart, 15 minutes max. No hugging, air kisses only, and no bathroom visits. We’d leave our Easter goodies on the table where the kids could later pick them up, wash them off with soap and water for twenty seconds, and eat them.

I decided I needed something nice to wear on our adventure. I chose my coral cashmere tunic top with the billowing sleeves, hoping that people would be so distracted by my lovely sweater that nobody would notice my straw hair growing over my eyes. But the top was dirty and there are no dry cleaners open. So I looked up cashmere washing instructions on Google. I did use very cold water and very gentle soap. Nevertheless my tunic is now a tight top with tight sleeves.

Early on Easter morning we gathered up our Easter goodies and headed out. The delivery service went well, except that it was a cold day and nobody could see my clean but shrunken top hidden under my winter coat after all. Also, we had had too much coffee before we went and it was a little stressful getting back home to a bathroom in time.

We spent Easter afternoon reading the weekend Globe and Mail. One entire page in the arts section featured a mural which depicted disposable rubber gloves in varying Easter shades of blue and pink, all thrown artfully around a parking lot. Then there was a piece about how to sew your own face mask. If you get good at that, you can move on to sewing yourself a new spring wardrobe. The book reviews focused on stories about past pandemics. How about Albert Camu’s book The Plague to lift your spirits? The sports section was almost non-existent. One picture showed little lego figures playing hockey with their little lego hockey sticks.

For dinner we had considered having our traditional Easter lamb cooked on the BBQ. But there was no lamb in the one grocery store we visited. So we settled for an Easter chick – en. Peter cooked his favourite vegetable – rapini with hot peppers – to give our meal a little kick. And we found half an apple pie at the bottom of the freezer. We got Alexa to play some Easter music. What more could we ask for?

After dinner we chose a movie to watch: The Martian with Matt Damon. We picked it because it’s quite suspenseful and would be a good diversion. Damon is left for dead on Mars, but he is not dead after all, and he has to survive on his own for several years until astronauts visit Mars again. Unfortunately the whole scene is eerily similar to our current situation; where we are alone so much, and foraging for food until we can make our once-weekly visit to the grocery store. Well maybe that is a BIT of a stretch, but I do catch myself talking to me sometimes…

At least Matt Damon didn’t have to battle invisible bacteria. There is no Covid 19 on Mars. I hear there’s a mission heading there in the 2030’s. Anybody want to go?

Stay safe in the meantime.

Sue

A few days ago our son Daniel, who helps us with all our technology problems, called to ask me if I would be willing to answer a few questions about technology, for a researcher. Since I’m not doing much else these days, I would say yes to just about Any research. Brushing my teeth with a new tooth paste, trying out vacuums on rugs covered with cat hair, taste testing anchovies; almost anything would be interesting during this stay-at-home pandemic.

The researcher was studying instructions for setting up devices like Alexa, and figuring out how to make these instructions more user-friendly for the older demographic, ie us seniors. This sounded like a perfect opportunity for me to have my say about a subject near and dear to the hearts of my husband and me, and many of our friends. I already had a list of complaints I mean suggestions, in my head.

The only small hitch was that, because of social distancing, this research was to be gathered through an online interview. I’ve had experience with facetime, and there have been numerous role models on TV lately. Think of all the politicians and talk-show hosts who are now broadcasting from their home offices, with kids climbing on their laps and cats traipsing across their keyboards. Well we don’t have a cat and I could just close our office door to keep Peter out. It would be fine.

I was excited about the idea, until I got the email with the instructions for setting up our online meeting. The first question was whether I have a microphone, camera, and headphones for my laptop. Yes to mic and camera, but I had to hunt high and low for headphones. I came up with earbuds but they wouldn’t stay in my ears. Could I hold them in place with tape? I continued reading the message. The words were a blur of indistinguishable terms like Cleanfeed, Quicktime, and instructions such as “turn off all notifications” and “limit the number of open tabs on Chrome.” It was like reading Greek.

After Daniel assured me that I could just use my cell phone and the phone earbuds that fit, I remembered that this interview would be live. With video! That meant I had to find a clean sweater. And wear earrings. And put on make-up. AND fix my covid 19 hairdo! Next I had to tidy up my desk: get rid of my little frog statue, my kids’ pictures, yesterday’s wine glass, my old jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Then I wondered if I had enough time to paint the office walls. I have never really liked that washed-out yellow…

But there was no time for painting. The researcher, Miriam, appeared on the screen with a friendly “hi.” She walked me through some further set-up details but she was patient and we figured it all out. Then the questions began. I relaxed and dove in.

I made several points which I think are important for our age group. For example, when dealing with novices like us, the instructions need to reflect that technology is like a new language. Many of the words are unique, they rarely relate to other words we know, and even “cookies” are not the cookies we bake for our grandchildren. We need a dictionary! If we have to plug a mic into a portal, we need pictures! Have you ever noticed how many portals there are on the back of your computer? You could spend all day trying to find the right one.

I was having fun blathering on, and the session was over much too soon. I still had things to say! I asked Miriam if she wanted to come over to my place for coffee? Maybe she could help me paint the office while we talked! Then I remembered the virus. Oh well, it had all been a bright spot in my otherwise mundane life. Daniel had come to the rescue again.

Sue

Last Tuesday, after I finished my post, I made a trip to COSTCO. This was the first Tuesday morning when seniors were allowed in at 8:00 am. I got there at 7:30 and the line at the front door was already long, but we were all keeping our distance. By 7:55, when the line was gigantic, the manager came out, welcomed us and said, sorry, but we had to enter by a different door, the one behind us. Well of course, when we turned around, the last people in the line were now the first people getting in. Pandemonium! Soon everyone was pushing and shoving to get to their “rightful” place in line. Then we realized that we were all so close together that we were infecting each other with covid 19. What difference did COSTCO make when we might all be dead in a few days? Finally someone began to laugh at the absurdity of it all and soon we were all laughing. What else could we do?

Two days ago my husband Peter called me into the kitchen where he was staring out the window. “What is that thing with the fluffy tail?” he asked. Soon the body appeared – black with a white stripe. Oops! Peter went out the back door and, staying well away, began to make loud noises. The skunk ambled off into the neighbours’ back yard. Half an hour later he reappeared, but Peter was ready with some baseballs he had found in the garage. Using his best athletic skills, he threw them at the skunk. This time the nasty creature ducked under our cute little garden shed. Oh No! An unwanted tenant!

This is our life now, where a trip to COSTCO or a skunk in our back yard is the most fun we’ve had in ages.

Or there was the day I decided that, since our cleaning lady Lucy was no longer coming, it was time to wash the kitchen floor. First I had to figure out her high-tech mop. I got the mop head fastened onto the handle. Then I tried the pedal for wringing out the mop. It took me a while to realize that there was no need to plug the pail in. Next I had to think about what cleaning fluid to use. We didn’t have a lot of disinfecting drug-store alcohol and it seemed a shame to waste a bottle of Glenlivet on the floor, so I settled for vinegar. When I was done, I was so excited about my clean floor with no streaks or splotches, that I washed the bathroom floors too!

When washing floors is the height of my day, it is a pretty sad state of affairs.

Our dinnertime conversations, usually enlightening exchanges, have degenerated to topics like hair maintenance. Somehow this was Not declared an essential service. Who is running this province anyway? Peter’s hair, often a little long, is now growing well below his collar. I’ll probably have to trim it for him, when I can find a bowl big enough to go on his head. Meanwhile my bangs are growing into waves, and my natural color, Benjamin Moore calls it Elephant Herd, is starting to show through. It’s a whole new look! We’ll be Soooo trendy when this is over.

So you can see that our lives, even in the city, are pretty mundane these days. Is there anybody truly happy? Yes – DOGS! Since everybody wants to go outside, and we aren’t supposed to travel in groups, each person wants a turn taking the dog for a walk. Family members line up at the door for a chance with the dog. By the end of the day the dog is exhausted, so he climbs on somebody’s lap. The recipient welcomes him up, desperate to hug another being, anything warm and breathing.

We don’t have a dog – yet. But by next Tuesday, well you never know…

Sue