Happy Easter

Today is Easter Sunday, sunny and finally warm.  After a Saturday of work and resolution of problems, I’m taking the day off.  I walked to a coffee shop nearby and flipped through the Vernon ‘Morning Star’ while sipping a robust coffee and eating a cinnamon bun that looked good but was underdone and doughy.  I’ve been looking for a good cinnamon bun for a long time now; the search will have to continue.  There are quite a few coffee places within walking distance of the house, and I’m going to try them all. 

Good Friday was a mixed day.  I tried again to contact Shaw about the problems I’ve been having with the phone and internet service since they were first installed.  I put the phone on speaker for almost an hour and listened to endless repetitions of what a valued customer I was as I worked at organizing the kitchen.  The young man I eventually spoke with said he could see the problem and that a service person would be at the house that afternoon or Sat. morning at the latest.  Of course, this didn’t happen and I continued to lose phone and internet service simultaneously, often in the middle of a call.  It happened once while I was talking with mom and dad and of course they assumed the worst.  By the time I had another period of connection and called them, they were in quite a state.  I’ve suspected for a long time, but now know why I’m having such a struggle trying to master my tendency to panic and jump the conclusions.  On Saturday afternoon as I still waited for the tech man and was trying to make the most of a moment of connection by calling Shaw, putting the phone on speaker and Skyping Ina, I was able to treat her to a sample of my anger unleashed.  The Shaw person answered as we were talking on Skype, and I launched into a tirade about their service while she listened.  I had blown it, just when I was congratulating myself on handling the vicissitudes of moving with uncharacteristic calm.  I had been happy to escape from Ma Bell, but was beginning to think that Pa Shaw was a match for her.  Finally Steve arrived and I knew that I was going to be connected properly.  As is so often the case, the institution is completely frustrating but the individuals who do the real work within it know exactly what they’re doing.  He was a bald young man of few words, with a bandana tied tightly around his head, a big bag of equipment and an enormous pair of black airline-type shoe covers that he pulled on with authority as he entered the house.  It took him about an hour and a half.  At one point he made a mildly positive comment to which I responded that he sounded less than enthusiastic.  He looked up and said, “ Oh.  Maybe I should work on my delivery.”  I laughed to myself and let him continue working.  So Good Friday’s problem was settled late Saturday, and what had appeared to be Good Friday’s success, proved by Saturday to be problematic.  I had bought a push lawnmower at the Canadian Tire sale, along with an articulating stepladder, which might turn out to be beyond me.  The mower was easy to put together, only the handle came in pieces.  As I waited for Steve on Saturday, I began to cut the lawn.  I was enjoying the work and congratulating myself on having saved 50% on the mower, while protecting the environment by pushing it myself and at the same time, avoiding health club fees by exercising in my own yard.  Half way through the job, I almost broke a rib.  The blade, described as ‘contact free’ hit the frame and the mower came to a complete and abrupt stop as I was pushing it for all I was worth.  Once Steve had the phone working, I called Canadian Tire to ask them to put a mower aside for me, there had only been 11 at the beginning of the sale, as I was returning mine.  I did so, and now the new one sits, still in the box because my neighbor, the one with the issues and the motor home, cut the rest of the lawn with her electric mower while I was at Can. Tire.  I’m not changing my mind about the hedge; the wall of white out the window still bothers me.  Even though Donna and I are being good neighbors now, I still believe that a good hedge will make us even better

On Monday, Jim’s cousin and her husband who has a truck are going to help me pick up a dining room table and 6 chairs that I bought on Kijiji, our Canada Want Ads competition.  I brought the dining room table that was the first thing that Jim and I had ever stripped with me to Vernon, but it was harder to find chairs for it than I had imagined it would be, whereas table and chair sets were numerous and cheap.  After having divested myself of so many unnecessary possessions before I left Ottawa, I’m determined not to acquire so much again, but you’d never guess it from reading this blog.    

New purchases from the Canadian Tire Spring Sale

Don's painting of Jay and the Mexican wall hanging in the living room near where they will be hung

Don's paintings of himself and Blake in the sunroom near where they will be hung

A forsythia in a yard near my house

The best forsythia I've seen so far in Vernon

An eco friendly plastic bag left in an eco friendly place.

Back in Vernon

Bill and I drove to Vernon from Victoria on Friday.   Dad is still frail and mom seems tired, but they are determined to stay in their apartment as long as they can.  We did everything we could to help them adjust to a new life with more home care and then thought we should leave and let them see how it works because if we had stayed, they would have depended on us for a lot and not got an idea of how they can manage on their own.  I hope it works.  As I had nothing but newspaper and plastic in the house, we walked to a sports bar and settled into its warmth with noisy Canucks fans.  We spent a few happy hours drinking beer brewed in Vernon and eating mussels and tacos, an odd but tasty mix.  Bill volunteered to help me on Saturday, but as I needed time to think of what to do and in what order, he left by bus for Whitecourt, Alberta to visit with Matti, Lindsay and their new baby, Cleo.

Now it’s 6:00p.m. Sunday, April 17, 2011, and I’m at the computer after a busy day.  I feel a bit guilty because it’s Palm Sunday and if I hadn’t heard the bells tolling in the morning at the Anglican Church across the street I wouldn’t even have known that.  Jim and I spent a Palm Sunday in Mexico watching peasants seated on blankets in front of churches bending strips of palm fronds into crosses.  But that was 15 years ago and  Barb says that Semana Santa in La Penita is quieter than usual, so even in Mexico the call is muted. 

I began the day by folding more boxes and putting more newspaper and bubble wrap into clear plastic bags; that’s how Vernon handles recycle.  When I first arrived, I thought the girls who had been renting the house had taken the recycle and garbage containers.  As they seem to have taken the broiling pan, I assumed they weren’t above that.  But when I asked the neighbor across the street to watch the house while I was in Victoria, I mentioned the missing bins and she told me that in Vernon, one separates recycle material and puts it into clear plastic bags for pickup.  Garbage goes in black bags.  So that’s what I’m doing.  After that drudgery, I remembered a Sunday tradition that has nothing to do with Easter, the Sunday drive.  I went on one.  I did have a purpose, to investigate 2 nurseries that had been recommended to me.  After unpacking, my second order of business is to plant a high and instant hedge between me and the next door neighbor with the ‘issues’ and the towering trailer home.  I want to see something other than flapping plastic when I look out the side window in the bedroom.  First I drove west, towards Kamloops, and up into the hills a bit.  I ran into rain and even snow but found the nursery and a woman there who was a big help.  Then I drove east, toward Nelson and another nursery.  I passed through beautiful rolling ranchland with dark colored thickset cattle grazing by the road.   Another woman helped me a lot, and now I’m waiting for their phonecalls with details and quotes.  I measured the area I want hedged; I think I’ll need 10 ten foot cedars and 7 seven foot ones.  Maybe I’ll turn to numerology like Pierre in War and Peace. 

I ended the work day by filling the car with carefully folded boxes to take to the big recycle centre and by putting all the clear plastic bags on the back porch.  Now I’m going to make grilled cheese sandwiches and cut up vegetables to eat while watching t.v., maybe the end of the Canucks’ game.  My parents are fans, and I caught the fever while staying with them.

Bill on the ferry to Vancouver with Salt Spring Island, where he biked on his last visit, in the background

Avery small section of the enormous flock of low-flying gulls that flew along with the ferry for a while.

The afternoon sun slanting across the t.v. chairs

The t.v. as seen from the chairs.  If you click on the photo, you will see that Felix the Cat is as perplexed by garbage as I am at the moment.

Dad comes home

It’s 6:00 a.m. Monday, April 11, 2011 and I’m at the kitchen table in Barb and Terry’s basement suite, the quiet retreat where I can gather my forces before returning to mom and dad’s and facing what has to be done there.  It’s still dark but the birds have been chirping for a few minutes.  I have already talked to Jay in Korea at 5:00 and messaged with Barb in Mexico. Skype still amazes me, even though the reception this morning with Jay was frustratingly bad.  Our pictures were pixilated and voices broken, so we messaged a bit and didn’t talk for as long as we usually do.  But the fact that before breakfast I have been able to get in touch with my son and a friend in such distant places while I sit comfortably in my pajamas in Victoria is wonderful. 

Dad is going to come home from the hospital today.  He’s made a lot of progress. When I first saw him last Wed. afternoon he was lost in a world of memories of Sherlock Holmes stories he had read.  He was convinced that the hospital and all it’s staff were the setting for and sinister characters in a tale in which he, mom and I were the victims who must escape as quickly as possible. He was trying desperately to get up, and would have had he not been so weak. Within 2 days he was mentally alert and now he’s much stronger physically too, although still very frail.  Sometimes he gets worried about what’s going on and what’s going to happen next, so do mom, Bill and I, but he’s had a wonderful nurse the last 2 days who’s helped us a lot.  And of course Patrick’s here too; we’re in it together, with all the mutual support and usual friction that any family gathering entails. ‘ The whole catastrophe’ as Zorba the Greek said in the eponymous movie.  A family seems to spin like a comet through life, held together by the same frictions and energy that could blow it apart at any moment.  I’m going to drive Pat to the ferry this morning because he’s going to visit his mom and Matti now that dad seems to be better.  Bill and mom will wait for the Medivan to bring dad home and we will work things out together bit by bit from there.

The ferry crossing back to Victoria again

Patrick and Bill in front of mom and dad's apartment.  Patrick is pointing to the construction of the new Oak Bay Hotel

Written on the crane is, ' The Snug returns'.  The Snug is the name of the popular pub that was in the old Oak Bay Hotel.  We hope to return too, for a pint when it's finished.

Leaving the house again

Early this morning mom called to tell me that dad fell last night and she called the ambulance.  At the hospital it was discovered that he also had pneumonia in one lung.  He remains in hospital on oxygen and my mom seems very upset and overwhelmed, so I pushed all the change-of-province business into Mon. and Tues. and will probably drive to Victoria on Wed., leaving the house littered in boxes, crushed newsprint and possessions.  Here are a few pictures of the mess.

The sunroom

From the living room looking toward the sunroom, the kitchen is on the left and the dining room on the right and the wreck of wrapping is everywhere

The living room is the one bit of order, with the flowers Marie gave me yesterday

The west commences in earnest

Well, I made it through the first night alone in our little house in Vernon.  It was different from holidaying with friends and family, really difficult for a while, but I soon got over it.  At 10:00a.m. yesterday, Bert, Peggie, Gayle and Ken met me at the house.  I had gone to the Storit Place at 9:00 to open the container for the guys who were going to do the heavy lifting.  Bert and Ken ended up doing a lot of heavy lifting too and Peggie and Gayle helped my organize things.   We celebrated with beer, wine and food at 2:00p.m., and then I was left with all my possessions scattered around me, mostly unpacked.  I got down to work, but a combination of beer and sentiment stopped me for a while, so I just sat down, contemplated Jim's urn on the mantle, went outside and walked around the block, chatted with the neighbour, a woman with 'issues',  mentioned that I wasn't fond of the ripped and flapping old tarp she had thrown over the incredibly huge and ugly trailer she has parked beside our yard, regretted having said anything and decided the only way out was to unpack some more and then make myself a Sapporo Ichiban soup to which I added grated carrot, celery and sesame oil, drink another beer, read because the t.v. works but I can't get any sound and fall asleep.   I felt better in the morning.

I unpacked some more and then made a list of things I needed while I waited about 20 min. to get through to customer service for Shaw.  I had to persuade them to send a technician for a second call because the first guy was great and made all the lines active, but I hadn't moved yet so he couldn't connect the t.v. and Bert got it going but we couldn't figure out the Bosc sound system.  By the time I got a live techie I was angry enough to complain about Shaw service and threaten to change to Telus but in a rare moment of restraint I didn't.  He turned out to be helpful and convincing, insisting that I was getting special service.   I ended by thanking him profusely.  Flushed with victory, I went to buy all the cleaning stuff that I had thrown out while packing for the move west plus some basic groceries.  I unpacked some more and then had a couple of breakthroughs.  I walked out to get some air and saw my neighbour cleaning up in front of her trailer, bodes well.  I approached her and opened another conversation by making a pleasant comment about her dog having the same name as my father-in-law.  Well, in fact, it's a female and the name is Jewels not Jules.  I persevered on a positive note by mentioning that I had a female friend named Jewel without the 's'.  We carried on from there, and I left hoping that I had mended the fences a little and not become another one of her 'issues'.  I unpacked some more and heard a knock at the door.  Oh, no!  Now she's dropping over.  What a relief to see Marie Foukal, our first renter with a bouquet of flowers, a jar of strawberry jam and a paper plate of cake.  I invited her in, we had a good chat, she invited me for dinner on Wednesday and now I feel more at home.  I actually managed to serve her tea which we drank out of beer steins that I had saved from my parents' cottage on Lake Superior and have never actually used, but they were the only cups I had unpacked.

Tomorrow I continue the work of changing health plans, driver's licence and plates, insurance, etc.  And unpacking.

The house when we bought it in late April,  3 years ago

The eyesore of a trailer is just on the other side of the fence now.  Our house is on the left with the big tree just coming into leaf

Bert, Jim and Brian (les 3 vieux moustache) on Jule's back deck at the latter's 85th birthday on May 2 of that year