Why can't every Monday be a holiday?

I have decided that three day weekends should be the rule not the exception. One of my work team has an 80% position which is four days per week. I could go for that. Mind you, I can’t get done what needs doing in five days so that would severely limit my productivity. I’m not sure where the weekend slipped away to but it sure was great.

I was discussing with the life partner - retirement, deferred payroll and plans to take a leave of absence to study tropical medicine once the youngest has freed us from tuition. I mentioned that a blog reader had commented they wouldn’t care what the weather was when retired as they didn’t have to go anywhere and that retirement to the tropics would mean a strange environment, even the trees and being away from family so it would all be so foreign. To which the spouse replied “well I most certainly hope that it’s foreign, the more foreign the better” It’s good to check in to make sure we’re on the same wavelength every once in a while. Mind you, foreign retirement might mean term positions interspersed with home time or just traveling for 4 to 6 months of the year and home for the good weather..

This morning an acquaintance dropped by and we were discussing careers, education, job satisfaction etc. Why I would be considered a good role model on these topics I’m not quite sure. Maybe it’s because I’m such an expert on moving around. Stanley, the black kitten was his usual quiet self but about 11 a.m. he became very animated and started meowing loudly in the mud room. I went to check and he was very vocal, so I picked him up to comfort him and said to the friend “oh he misses the youngest daughter as she’s sleeping in”. A few minutes later he was at it again, really insistent yowling this time and when I checked he was meowing at the back door. I picked him up and said “you’re not an outside kitty” and when I looked out through the window in the door, I spied Gary, the grey cat on the other side (he has a very soft almost newborn mew) crying to get in. Now he’s not an outdoor cat either so I quickly opened the door and in he scooted. Talk about looking after each other - those cats are kindred spirits. Was Gary out since early a.m. when the lobster fishermen went? Has the cat learned how to open the door himself? Not sure, but he was dusty, his feet were full of sap and he spent the rest of the afternoon napping so he’d obviously had some kind of adventure.

Today I spent the afternoon scratching in the dirt. I started out just going to put in some ornamental onions, then found some lilies coming up near the driveway, then decided to be brave and see if there were any perennials who survived the winter. Of course that led to pruning, weeding, and generally cleaning up for about two hours. I will regret using those dormant muscle groups tomorrow. I only found one tick after but of course have the crawling feeling now just thinking about them.

Almost two years ago a landscape designer friend rescued most of my gardens from across the road and tucked them into a nursery bed ‘until the spring’. Well this is the second spring and there they sit. Last summer was so crazy with finishing the house and the move that I refused to even go and look at them as there was nothing I could do but I did notice occasional splashes of color up by the well. Finally I checked today and was relieved to find that there was quite an assortment of thriving plants. It’s almost too much to hope for that I will get flower beds in the next couple of weeks, but if not by the fall.

The dog was my patient audience so I rewarded her with a walk before supper. We headed on our usual route with only three aerobic sprints to avoid other canines loudly protecting their properties. I decided to let her go for a swim and we walked down the neighbours slipway where he launches his outboard. She likes to grab mouthfuls of seaweed and ‘retrieve’ them up on the shore, guess she feels she should bring something back if she goes in the water. You want a retriever, you get a retriever.

The walk on the round logs of the slip immediately transported me back at least 40 years in time to warm weather spent at the boat launch near our home. Many of us in the neighbourhood walked down the railroad tracks to swim in the channel of Mahaney’s Boat Shop, bask in the sun to warm up after the bone chilling saltwater dip and gather shells on the shore. Those carefree days!

My mind then wandered to the swimsuit story. My younger sister had a one piece pale blue bathing suit with white trim which was like many others in the area as it had been purchased at Jack Sterns clothing store. In our family we were never permitted to call it the ‘Jew Store’ which some other kids did. Looking back, I’m guessing that was in keeping with the inclusive nature of our upbringing. Jack and Golda Stern had the first discount clothing shop in our area and it was well supported locally. When my sister came home from swimming in the channel one afternoon and my mother sent her to hang out her towel and bathing suit…the bathing suit hadn’t made it home. When we were sent back to retrace our steps, we found the suit draped over one of the rails on the train tracks. The only problem was that the 4 p.m. CN train had been through and from the heat and pressure of the wheels the middle of the suit was melted in two. Now today, this would mean the swimsuit would be trashed but…in the late 1960s this meant it became a two piece as Mom stitched elastic into the waistband and top. My sister wore that two piece suit until she grew out of it - the only reason you got a wardrobe replacement in those days.

I’ve got my act together for tomorrow (why does that only extend to the first day of the work week eh?) with lunches packed, and supper in the slow cooker because I’m planning to head to scrap booking tomorrow night so have to have all my ducks in a row.

Speaking of ducks, I was told earlier by the man with the binoculars looking out the living room windows, that there are a pair of tame ducks nesting in the corner of our ‘pond’ at the edge of our property near our rock wall. When I asked what kind of tame ducks he said “oh those mallards you see” I asked if he meant the ones seen walking down the shoulder of the road? “Yes“, he smiled “those ones” They had been sighted by a few of us when I guess they must have been checking out good nursery areas to start a family. Explains why the dog has been intently staring down over the hill - think Snoopy on the top of his dog house scanning for the Red Baron and you get the picture.

I leave you with a smile. Now before anyone in the mental health/human rights field gets their knickers in a knot let me state that this is a joke people, a - JOKE!!!

It doesn't hurt to take a hard look at yourself from time to time, and this should help get you started. During a visit to the psyche ward, a visitor asked the Director what the criterion was which defined whether or not a patient should be institutionalized.

"Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."

"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup."

"No." said the Director, "A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?"

DID YOU PASS, OR DO YOU WANT THE BED NEXT TO MINE