Tag Archives: life

SHEBA IS OK. I AM OK

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I’ve been having more frequent moments of missing Sheba the last couple of days. It has been acute today. I haven’t gotten around to storing her bowls yet, but I did bag up her Kong bed yesterday. It did make me feel better in moments. Other times it gave me such an acute longing and missing her. Fourteen years is hard to erase and process.

Though both we and Sheba knew that our time together was coming to end it is still very difficult. Towards the last couple of months of her life, Sheba stopped sleeping in the bedroom with us. She retreated to the livingroom or the sunroom. Perhaps she was preparing us. So my tears come. My tears flow this morning as I biked down the alleys we used to walk. I see that the squash grower has planted potatoes this year instead. Memories, images and tears come as I pedal.

I tell myself I have to do something else beside cry. So I practice riding with just one hand on the handlebar, then the other. I’m not good enough yet to use one hand on and to signal with the other. I can manage a quick scratch of my nose. I practice looking behind me for traffic. I want to get enough confidence to ride down busier streets. I still have goals. I’m still interested in improving my skills of living.

I took a little break from my sadness. I worked in the front yard. I put myself in every corner, reclaiming every inch of it. I am not letting the neighbour bully and throw her weight on my property. I wonder what kind of person would plant little trees on a neighbour’s property, right along my raised garden bed. I wonder what kind of person would have the Weedman spray pesticide right along that bed of vegetables. I’m wondering but not expecting any answers. Living next to this person has deepened my sadness in these times.

Now it is almost 8 o’clock in the evening. I love sitting out here and watch the sun playing shadows on the garage wall. In other times, Sheba would be laying here beside my feet. She is ok. I don’t have to worry about her now. I’m ok. We’ve had our time together. I am no longer angry with the neighbour. However, I am a little afraid of her venom and malice. I do not care about the row of little evergreens beside the raised bed. They have nowhere to grow but over her driveway. .

 

ANGER DOES NOT BECOME ME

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First things first this morning. I had to join in for the online YWCA morning exercise class on Zoom. I have to get back to a regular schedule more than ever now that there is no Sheba to take me out on our walks. Then I had to hang up the laundry, clean the toilet and wash the bathroom floor. The phone rang. I had missed an appointment. Sorry, sorry, sorry! Can I reschedule? Of course I could since it was my bank and really, they do work for me. They’ve left me waiting, dangling my heels a few times and not for a short time. But I mustn’t forget tomorrow though. Today the toilet was more important.

I have to admit that I am a bit of a train wreck. I must try a little harder not to steam up, cry about Sheba and blow my stack over the woman next door. I should put away Sheba’s leftover food and her bowls. Every time I walk by them, I forget and think I should fill her water bowl. Then the tears start. And really, that woman next door…I know that I should get her out of my system once and for all. The truth is I am only an ordinary human being. I can let it go for awhile. Because she is so good and smart at what she is, she will catch me unaware again and again. She has done so for over 10 years. But at least I have reported her to the police last year and again recently. There’s not much they can do about alot of her crap, but trespass is against the law.

Tomorrow is here and I mustn’t forget about my appointment this afternoon. My phone rang again. It is those scammers who said they’re from Service Canada again. So I pressed 1 as the recording says to know more details. I demanded to know their identity and where they are calling from. I demanded and shouted. I’ve done this a few times now. They’ve hung up on me. Sometimes I hang up on them. I am angry. I am just so angry. Tears come. My stomach goes into knots. There is no love in my heart. I know not everyone is evil but evil does exist. Some people are just bad.

I know Anne Lamott said that anger is a form of prayer. I believe it can be but I also know that it is not good for me. It is killing me now and I must feel it and release it. So I letting it out like a long foul fart. There you go,  just passing wind. I hope I can be sweeter tomorrow.

LIFE NOT AS USUAL

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So here I am again….finally…stumbling…exhausted…sad. There is no life as usual anymore. Was there ever? I am no longer filled with false hopes and bravado. Life truly sucks and I am not here to gloss over the muck. Sorry for negativity but I am exhausted and crazed living next door to a pyschopathic neighbour for over 10 years.

I know I should not give her this space and energy. That’s what feeds her but I am unable to let it go. Just let it go. It’s such a familiar phrase, a panacea for everything. Let it go. I wish I could. If only I could stop my thoughts and feelings at will. Then I would be sleeping  peacefully now. Instead I am  sitting here in the dark, tapping out all the ugliest inside of me. It’s the worst part of me, the hanging on to the evil and uglies of others. In this, I’m like a dog with a bone. I chew and chew on it till I’m eaten up by the hate I feel.

I’m not sounding like Pollyanna now, am I? I am grieved by Sheba’s passing. My sorrow changes from moment to moment and day to day. Thoughts and pictures bring tears to my eyes. Panic gathers as I realize she is gone forever and now I stand alone. I have to be brave on my own without her by my side. Still, I am braver and a better human having had her for these years.

I am ok again for awhile having spew forth the truths of new this life. I have spoken with and filed a report about this neighbour with the police. This probably will not be the end of her trespassing and mischief. Any hindrance and deterrent buys more peace. An ear for my troubles is always a relief.

LOVING SHEBA

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Good morning. How have you been? It’s 3 weeks since I’ve lost my Sheba. It’s such a short and yet long time ago. I’ve had her since she was 2 months old, almost 14 years. But it’s never long enough. She was 3 months short of her 14th birthday. I think of her, missing her presence in all my waking moments. How could I not?

It’s been difficult to come here, my space of refuge, of sighing and letting go. I’m still in the grasping stage. I now know what is meant by grasping at straws. I’m grasping and clutching but there is no physical Sheba. I feel breathless at times. I hear the click of her nails on the floor. I feel her presence –  on her pillow at the foot of the bed, in the kitchen crunching her breakfast and making coffee with the guy in the morning, waiting for me as I come out of the bathroom. I’m ready to step over her but she’s not there. And so it goes.

The acuteness and sorrow of loss will mellow with time. For now I will just let them rise and fall. I will let the tears gather at the corners of my eyes, feel that lump in my throat and the ache in my heart. It is the nature of grieving. I had not been able to or allow myself the luxury of mourning my losses in the past. I had believed in keeping a stiff upper lip and keeping a tight lid on feelings. But Sheba has broke through that dam.

She was everything to me. She was always there and still is for me – my buffer against the blues and other ills. It’s high time I give credit for her work and role in my life. She has given much love and joy and many stories to be told.

 

JAVA MORNINGS

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Have I told you I’ve given up my Orange Pekoe cuppa? I’m making some changes to the way I live. I’m starting small with a cup of coffee in the morning, a very small cup. It holds 125ml, just a swallow. That was all I needed. I surprised myself with a burst of energy and a flurry of hard-to-do activities.

I warmed up with my usual pushing the damp mop around the floors and a little dusting along the way. I’m getting quite good at it now. Having limbered up, I used my hula hoop, what Amy Tan call the gym for seniors. I’ve already achieved the 1 minute mark, so now I’m working towards 2 minutes without stopping. Took a few tries but I got it! By then I was in a good sweat. I had to do a walk around the house to cool off before doing 3 rounds of 20 seconds of planking. I stretched by doing my qigong routine.

I probably over did after 2 months of potato couching. It was so nice to have the energy. It was hard to stop. I went for a little bike ride after lunch before taking Sheba out for her walk. Then I finished raking the leaves in the front yard. Now I’m all revved up. I hope I can sleep tonight. I did have another small cup of coffee after lunch. I was tired of being a wet noodle. I hope to repeat my day tomorrow but maybe a little more moderate. I might have to skip the 2nd coffee.

WEDNESDAY JIBBERISH

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Wednesday morning coming down. It’s another cool May day. I wonder if our planet is trying to reset and right itself now that we humans have slowed down the flying and driving and the manufacturing. I hope we can and will return to greener pastures. Remember when stores were opened from 9 am to 6 pm? Wednesday they were opened only in the morning. Thursday was late night shopping till 9 pm. Sundays were closed. There was time and opportunity to savour Sunday suppers and our lives instead of the shop till you drop mentality.

I’m old enough to have those memories. Now there is the time and quiet to reflect back to those times. There’s no reason why I can’t put back those things that were good and meaningful for me. If we all do that, we can recreate a more sustainable life for ourselves and the planet. Maybe the reason we are where we are today is because our ways are no longer sustainable. Why do we have to have more, bigger and faster? Individually it can lead to burnout. Collectively we are burnt out and locked down.

This is where I am now, deciding how to live, how to proceed. Do I feel any desires or passions? Right in this moment, I do not.  But I do not want to stay in this feeling. I have the desire to have a meaningful life. I worked hard today at doing the hard to do things, those things that I keep at bay for days and days. Some of them are not big or important at all. Things such as clipping my finger and toe nails. But they do add to my comfort. There’s no understanding why it was such a big chore. It’s done along with setting up payment for my property tax. I had a good go at my income tax. I just need to check it over and get all the receipts in order.

It is early evening. I’m winding down. I know mornings are my best times. Come after lunch, I slowly wind down like a dying EverReady battery. Now, I’m pooped and not much in my head. I don’t have much left in me. I best call it the end. I’ll try for better tomorrow.

 

SOURDOUGH, BEESWAX WRAPS AND EGG SHELLS

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I think I will have to stop living this Covid-19 lifestyle soon or else I’m going to turn into mush. I don’t mean I’m going to be rash and careless. But rather I have to stop thinking and living it 24/7. It would help if the CBC would stop devoting the whole hour of the National to it. The world has stopped but life and other deaths and diseases are still going on. It is not good for our my mental health not to have other focuses.

It is early evening. I’m waiting for supper. I’m sleepy as can be having started my day at 5:30. This is what happens in these times. Things are niggling on the edges of my consciousness. It’s hard to sleep in. It’s not a bad thing. I love the early morning hours when the sun is already up. I was not always a morning person especially when I was still working. I worked shift as a nurse for over years. Today is International Nurses Day and the anniversary of Florence Nightingale’s birth. There’s a flurry of Happy Nurses Day posts on Facebook. I wish all my fellow retired and working nurses a Happy Nurses Day.

Supper is over. Where did the day go? I started early enough. I still feel I’m behind even in locked down with nowhere to go and nothing I must do. I still have that must do and ought to do mentality. I did get 2 loaves of sourdough baked, made a couple of beeswax wraps and roasted a tray of egg shells. Egg shells, you say. Whatever for? They’re supposed to be good in the garden for tomatoes, rose bushes and other things. I will have to crush them up first though.

I still haven’t tackle all those I hate-to-do tough jobs because after all that baking, beeswaxing and roasting, there was so many things to clean up. It took up the rest of the morning. Then there was lunch to be made and more washups. After all that, it was time to take Sheba for her afternoon walk. I’m not as distressed today to see her stumble a little. I give her behind and hips a little rub and she was okay. She got a little dose of CBD oil in the morning. It seemed to perk and limber her up. We’re being daring and experimenting with life. I heard tell that life is a chronic condition. I’m trying to roll with it.

The end and good night.

 

MONDAY, MONDAY

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Monday morning coming down. May 11th, the calendar pages are advancing. The sun is out shining bright. My day has started. Breakfast over and done with. I’ve shaped my sourdough loaves. They are chilling in the fridge. They can chill up to 24 hours. The longer they stay, the tastier and more stable they get. That is what they say. Maybe I will wait to bake them tomorrow morning and test out the theory.

My Sheba and I are growing old together. She has a little more white than I do. Her hips are worse off, too, giving her trouble these last couple of weeks. I try not to feel too bad or sad when I see her stumble. She still loves her walks and able to go up and down the deck stairs. There’s a few more things I can do to help her like doing range of motion on her hips. She’s content to let me massage and brush her, even on her backend. She is already on fish oils and glucosamine. I will try to wean a little weight off her. It will be a task as she loves food. I’m adding a little ground flax to her food and see if that will help. I hear that cumin is a good anti inflammatory. We will check with the vet.

Mornings are my best time. It is late afternoon. My mood and energy are sagging and dragging the floor. It is impossible to work on the hard stuff when I’m feeling thus. Bad habits are hard to break but I did get the kohlrabi and broccoli seedlings transplanted. They were beyond leggy and flopping over. Gardening has not been easy this year. I keep plodding along. I will be glad for my persistence and efforts come harvest time. I think of the reward to keep myself moving along.

Excuse my monotone. I’m struggling to finish this post. I find myself struggling with everything. I just have to take life in smaller bites and swallows these days. You wonder why I bother with my mutterings. Sometimes I wonder, too. But I’m the better for showing up here. It gives me order to my day. The rhythm of the keys tapping calms and soothes me. It gives me purpose. It records my moods, problems and helps me find workable solutions. It keeps me sane.

 

SATURDAY AND SUNDAY MUTTERINGS

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I woke up to a snow falling on cedars Saturday morning. I’m getting used to strangeness and unexpectedness. It was rather pretty and serene. It gave me a peaceful feeling, as if everything is okay. And it is, isn’t it? I have food, water, clothing and shelter. I’m lucky that I don’t have to worry about employment and income. I’m retired with a pension. I don’t know what it is like to have those worries now. I have been there in my younger days, always thinking of how to stretch the dollar. I have paid my dues. I feel no guilt.

It is almost supper time. The day can go accounted for when you linger and scroll here and there. It’s that kind of a day. Sometimes it doesn’t really matter too much if things don’t go according to the plan. I learn not to get into a sweat and make another plan. I mustn’t be too lackadaisical though. There IS a deadline for filing income tax – June 1. I still haven’t made a move on it. Perhaps tomorrow.

Contrary to the popular saying that tomorrow never comes, it has. It is Sunday. I haven’t done my taxes yet but I haven’t been idle either. I’m not in the flow of things so my words come in stutterings. It is almost supper time. I’m tired, having fought Sheba to clean her ears. She hates it with a passion, snapping her teeth at me. But it is done. She got the whole body treatment today. A brush out, massage and range of motion exercise on her right hip. It’s been giving her trouble lately. It’s worrisome. I don’t want her to suffer.

It is Mothers Day. The world is still stalled and in limbo. This time last year we were seated around a big table at Yip Hong’s for a Chinese supper celebration. I wonder when we will be able to do that again. It seems unreal, like a dream or a bad joke that we can endanger each other, that there are over 280,000 deaths worldwide due to Covid-19 in these months.

BAKING BREAD, SNOW AND MY TOMATOES

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It is almost 4 in the afternoon. Cloudy and rainy. Not inviting weather for a walk. I shall forego it if Sheba does not kick up a fuss. She is slowing down, her right hip giving her grief at times. She is always up when I mention ‘walk’. But today might be a good day to play hooky. She had her morning walk. We’ve both earned a day off.

Conversations are much easier to start in the morning but I had bread making on the start. Somehow it is always most the day affair. The day is almost gone but I have 6 golden loaves, minus the slices we ate, bagged and in the freezer. The pans are all washed, dried and put away. I haven’t always been this organized and orderly. I’ve learned it pays to be so. I’m trying to apply that principle to everything that I do.

The snow is coming down now after the rain. It melts as it hits the ground. It’s a cool 2 degrees Celsius. I wonder at my wisdom of planting some of my tomatoes. It’s going to be -2 Celsius tonight, -4 for the next 2 nights. The nights won’t get above 0 till Wednesday. I hope they will be okay under the covers. It will be an interesting experiment. And why not? Everything is so uncertain this year. Who knows what the summer will be like. I can dare a little, stretching our growing season a little. Maybe I’ll get a bunch of early tomatoes.

I won’t try  to stretch this post any longer. My mind is scattered. And I don’t have much more to say. Sheba is restless and pacing back and forth. I think she wants me to go watch TV with her.