Category: Throwback Thursday

plenty of nothing

Queen Elizabeth is fixing to die at Balmoral Castle. Her dying in Scotland during one of the biggest blooms of separatism in ‘Alba’ would be quite a punctuation mark to her reign. No English monarch has died in Scotland since the 16th C.

She cooed over me in my crib at Pion-Era in Saskatoon in 1959.

Her dying is going to cast me down for a long time; I’ll try not to trouble anyone really anticolonial with my feelings, but it’s hard to have two English grandfathers and not have those feelings.

Each time I think I’m being too lazy I remember my foremothers busted ass on housework and clothing construction/maintenance every gd day of their lives, so if I read novels and eat nuked cakes in a cup (my own recipe) they are smiling down on me. They wish I’d accept Christ though, and that’s a tough one.

3005 words.

Buster killt him a rat day before yesterday. Jeff has already dealt with the corpse.

Keith bopped by with two coolers full of frozen food a couple of days ago since the fridge over there died, and I took stuff out of out freezer to put theirs in. SADLY the ice cream horns touted as treats ARE TOO GROSS which is awful because Jeff and I both enjoy them, so we’ll have to throw them out. Anyway, it was good to be of service to the family.

https://martinkendell.ca/my-platform – I guess I’m voting for him. He just cleaned a hunnert pounds of trash offa Boundary Road.

 

 

Breakfast at the Foreshore diner

I had french toast an’ swossage and coffee and Jeff had the regular breakfast with bacom and coffee and it was very tasty and lorge. Leftovers in the fridge for pecking on throughout the day.

Horrifying Frontline about Putin’s war. It’s available on line but jesus I’m not recommending it because it put both me and Jeff in a foul and bleak place.

mOm got the story in the email finally. To make reading easier, I am thinking of having a password locked area of the site for people to read stories if they log in but I will leave off thinking of the mechanics for when Jeff is not buried in improvements for paying customers.

Happy St. Patricks for those who drink…

555 words into the new story.

Our old home at Valley Springs Ranch – the cottage Dad built. Roberta, David, Mary – we were visiting from Borden.

The freedom to ride

On horseback was just about the only time my woman forebears experienced something a little like freedom; a break from thirty loaves of bread a week and a thousand other chores. I thank my grandparents for raising my mOm so that she got horses and the freedom that comes from study.

Roberta on Melody Maid, 1949. south end of barnyard; the circular water trough is downslope and right.

Ninety-four

There’s Granny Rivett, possibly the sweetest person I will ever have known personally. I loved her so much and she was so unfailingly kind and practical; I could only wish to be more like her.

She’s been gone a while, but she isn’t gone when I use her silverware, serve Alex cocoa in one of her teacups, unjam my breadmaker with her gravy spoon…. she’s right there….

pOp

Pop at the London Ont house

There were a pair of chairs that we brought to London from Ottawa. They were nasty red velvet upholstery and quite beat up, but the fOlks liked them so they were reupholstered, as seen. pOp is sitting under a lithograph of a woman ‘petit maman’ who looks like she might be a retired sex worker, and facing her is a brass rubbing of a grand lady that our friend Elizabeth made during a trip to the UK. That’s the door to Jeff’s room (aka the games room) behind him.

Lest we forget

 

Sue Gillespie

You just can’t tell how much you’re going to love someone the first time you meet them. She was a remarkable person; funny, hospitable and a true lover of bassett hounds. When I want a laugh, I think of how, had she been spared, we would have argued for hours about what Peter Jackson got right and wrong with his LOTR movies. How I would love to sit across from her at Tak Sun – which is still open in London – one more time in the dim light, slurping back dim sum.