The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost. E.M. Forster, Howards End It's a grey day. The fog is low and I am home alone. It's quiet, save for the sound of the King's College Choir coming from my Bose speaker. I'm sipping yerba
I accidentally watched the local news the other night. Well, “accidentally” may be a misnomer, but it came about because the girls were out at supper time. With just Gerry and me at home, we fell back into our old pattern of tuning in to the local news at 5:00. I had to walk away
It's Friday, right? Right? Because some days I can't keep anything straight. Case in point: I was looking forward to an appointment I had scheduled for 11:00 this morning but it turned out the appointment was yesterday and I missed it. It's not the first time something like this has happened in my post-retirement days.
I'm a huge fan of the Christmas classic movie, It's a Wonderful Life. Watching it solo is a holiday tradition because Gerry doesn't appreciate it in the same way (imagine!). I missed seeing it last year because I just couldn't muster my usual enthusiasm. This year? We'll see. Anyway, I was thinking about Uncle Billy
This morning I feel like whatever I write will be inadequate. To write something cheery seems an insult to those in British Columbia who are already dealing with loss from mudslides and flooding, and insensitive to those in the north who are waiting for a second atmospheric river to hit the province. It would be
My writing group met virtually this morning. We meet via Zoom and have the blessing of meeting with women we might not otherwise connect with. Two of the women were also in the group I started when we lived in Washington state. Without the magic of technology, we might have lost the connection we forged
I debated about whether to even attempt a Friday's Fave Five post today. It's been a difficult week for British Columbia due to mudslides and floods, and for all of us everywhere because that's just the way it is right now. I feel the burden and in some respects, it seems frivolous—and perhaps even insensitive—to
The first fluffy flakes have fallen, and the driveway has been shoveled for the first time this season. Gerry and I, out and about on an early morning errand, encounter a pickup truck coming toward us with its lights flashing, warning us of something ahead. We brake, and slide, and come upon a young man
British Columbia is leaning toward declaring a state of emergency because of widespread flooding throughout the province past few days because of something called an "atmospheric river". This, after the summer's "heat dome" that claimed lives, destroyed an entire town, and contributed to a horrific wildfire season. And oh, like everyone else, we're still stumbling
We curl up in the living room in the morning—me with a mug of yerba mate and her with a mug of soy milky frothy chocolatey coffee, and enjoy mother-daughter conversation for an hour or so. When we've exhausted every topic (well, almost, and only for the time being) I head to the kitchen to
It's been decades since I've had a cat in the house and, if you've been reading this blog for any time at all, you know I'm a Yorkie person. (On that note, here's a festive photo that our groomer shot of the pups last week.) But this morning, on a foggy, blustery November morning