Dear Diary – Week 15, 2026

16 Thursday Apr 2026

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Dear Diary – Eldest Son and New Daughter were down for the weekend and Micah decided that, though they were the wrong people, he was sleeping in the right bed. I never saw him. I should have been thankful.

The kids slept with the blinds open. Now someone else wants the blinds permanently open.

I no longer have any privacy. I dress in the bathroom, with only Micah as my audience. It’s very bright at night and my sleep mask makes my neck sweat. He’s also returned to sleeping on my face, and he flexes his claws when he’s feeling cuddly.

On the plus side, the auto feeder is behaving. I adjusted the times and so far, he’s well-fed. And happy.

Dear Diary – Hubby and I went on a “double date” last weekend. We met his brother and bro’s girlfriend for a long lunch. I’m not sure if I’ve ever paid over $20 for a salad before. But I enjoyed a free “bubbly” drink in a champagne flute and since we had to wait so long for every. step. of. the. meal, we were given a complimentary dessert. Hubby and I shared a decadent chocolate lava cake. The girlfriend exercised self-control. It’s why she has a hot body and I don’t, but this time, I think I had more fun.

Dear Diary – He climbs things. He claws things. And he knows when he shouldn’t. That sideways glance with the slow blink, pretending to bathe though firmly rooted to the spot next to the thing he’s not supposed to be on or claw. I think he’s beginning to understand the hand signals for “I’m watching you”.

But he’s rarely deterred.

And he always apologizes. He crawls in my lap later and tucks his head under my chin, knowing all will be forgiven. What he doesn’t realize…I haven’t forgotten.

My home is now decorated with spiky plastic pallets and shiny tin foil. Yesterday I broke down and bought the dreaded SPRAY BOTTLE. I’ve used it once, to his shock and horror. And to my surprise, he actually used his scratching posts. I rewarded him with treats. He climbed my leg trying to get them.

He’s a work in progress.

Dear Diary – I started an interesting book called Ella Minnow Pea. She lives on an island named after Nevin Nollop, the guy who wrote the sentence that uses all the letters of the alphabet: The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. When letters of the quote start to fall off his statue, the High Council votes to eliminate that letter from the English language or serious consequences would ensue. Nollop is speaking to them from the grave. But as more letters begin to fall, the unconsidered consequences become grow.

Suddenly, teaching children becomes perilous. Books are destroyed. The bee colonies are decimated (because bees speak a prohibited letter). The islanders are unhappy but complicit. But by the time they are ready to speak against the ridiculousness and the severe punishments, they don’t know how to undertake the procedure. All the legal and government documents have been destroyed. The population decreases as people leave or are exiled as third offence.

The author, Mark Dunn, also removes the offending letters through his writing and I can only imagine what a feat that was as an author. And what a feat it might be to complete the book. I’m only a third of the way into it and can’t help but see comparisons to our political climate too. I don’t see any of it ending well.

“For the present, it is easier for us to turn away. Our repulsion, you see, will not spur us to revolt until this plague moves much closer to home.” – Mark Dunn, Ella Minnow Pea

Dear Diary – Micah has a “tell”. He yowls right before he stretches full-length, trying to hook the blinds. Having them permanently open doesn’t satisfy him.

I should have slept with the spray bottle last night.

He woke me at 2:30 by marching up the length of my body and head butting my chin, with a quizzical mew. Then he proceeded to zoom and attack my toes. He got very still and I thought he had left. I was drifting off and I heard the tell-tale yowl. Sure enough, he was reaching, and was frustrated because I had raised them even higher. He took out his frustration by clawing the mattress. I ran out of pillows to throw, so sweetly lured him into the hall and threw his stuffed fish down the stairs. He went for it and I went to bed…with the door closed and the blinds down.

He politely requested entrance. It was denied.

I think he was awake because Youngest Son had been up to retrieve the air fryer for his mid-night snack. The house smelled delicious.

Dear Diary – We watched the Artemis II landing Friday night. It was kind of boring. For starters, they kept stressing the importance of whisking them away to med bay as soon as they were on the ship, but it seemed to take forever to release them from the capsule. Those astronauts were probably so relieved to be safely home, but as the minutes drifted by, all I could think about was how I would feel …tired, smelly, claustrophobic and getting sea sick. If I had internal injuries or an alien about to burst from my chest, I would be doomed. Then I realized, forget the medical bay…just let me shower, then take me to Tim Hortons…or just fly through the take-out lane.

Then the astronauts finally got released, only to be set adrift on a raft that looked like it had a leak, so they could be flown one by one in a baby swing attached to a helicopter to the big boat. All the while surrounded by a hundred uniformly dressed people… in boats. Why the raft? I’m sure there are very good reasons for the protocol, I’m just not interested enough to look them up.

Contrary to other opinions expressed in my household that evening, I’m not saying space exploration is a waste of money. But I can’t help thinking about all that money that could have been spent giving people the hand up they need to thrive in the world that exists right now. I’m not anti science, but I am pro-people.

“After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say, ‘I want to see the manager.'” – William S. Burroughs

Dear Diary – Youngest Son and New Daughter brought Micah some catnip tea. He’s mean under the influence.

Dear Diary – I tried on 14 pairs of pants yesterday, mostly jeans. I have one pair that fit!

I can’t lie and say I was fine with that. I was anything but fine. I don’t recognize my body in the mirror anymore, and my face already looks like I have one foot in the grave. So I made a decision.

Then I called my friend. I’m not sure if it was to talk me out of it or to talk me into it…

I texted my family and told them I loved them but I was running away from home. I was going to shave my head and join the circus.

Only Hubby responded hours later. He told me he loved me and asked me not to leave. My kids still haven’t responded.

I didn’t join the circus. (They wouldn’t have me. I’m not flexible enough for the trapeze and not short enough to be a clown). So instead, I went and got my hair cut. One-length. Just kissing my shoulders.

Do I like it? I’m not sure. I can say, it’s no worse than when I went in. I’ll have to play with it for a few days. Besides, if I made a mistake, it will grow back.

Dear Diary – Micah has a new favourite haunt.

Cat tower: $100+ Scratching Post: $30 Cat toys: $20 Cat treats: $4-6 Grocery Bag: $0.50

Dear Diary – Week 14, 2026

09 Thursday Apr 2026

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Dear Diary – Micah has a stuffed garden plot with stuffed carrots that come out. The idea is to put snacks in the holes. The cat has to remove the carrots and dig out the snacks. Micah has 3 “treat toys” and he’s got them all figured out.

What he couldn’t figure out was why his garden plot was traveling with him. He bravely stomped along with one foot stuck in one hole, and every few seconds, frowned and shook his foot furiously.

I rescued him but not without laughing hysterically and bruising his ego.

Dear Diary – The other evening, Hubby and I watched an episode of the show, Community. It was Hubby who noticed “Youngest Son” in the background, building a pillow fort. This guy is definitely an awesome doppelganger.

Dear Diary – Micah is doing better at leaving the blinds alone at night. He still paces the floor underneath or sits on the bed and meows loudly to express his outrage. I try to put them down before he joins me, and I put bottles on the three of the corners where the three blinds meet.

A couple mornings ago, he knocked two down and broke off the tops. Youngest Son had to crawl under bed to find them. I can still get the insides out, except I now have mousse escaping out of seven holes instead of one.

I rarely use it anyway.

So I tried a pair of sneakers. He immediately knocks them down by jumping up from the floor, but after he knocks them down, he leaves them alone. He’s better about being on the dining table too, but the t.v. stand is still a fight. He knows he shouldn’t be there, toys with me, waits until I sit down. So I’ve been spending a lot of time standing and sitting, which is good because he moves faster than I do. I can’t chase him.

It’s either progress or I’m deluding myself.

We’re still working on scratching the furniture. We now own three scratching “posts”.

Dear Diary – We celebrated Easter weekend here in the city. Eldest Son and New Daughter will be visiting this coming weekend. On Saturday, we spent time at my brother-in-law’s, where my father-in-law was also visiting, for an afternoon of wine, cheese, and conversation. It was a beautiful display and bro-in-law and his girlfriend were wonderful hosts. They didn’t mind that I brought tea from Tim Horton’s. I like wine and cheese but I can’t drink wine (thanks to my medication) and I’m lactose intolerant…

Hubby and I will be joining them in a double date this coming weekend.

We celebrated Resurrection Sunday with our church family and I sang with the worship team. The music was so high that I’m sure only the neighbourhood dogs heard me. Mom and Dad arrived in time for a full turkey dinner. We were too full after that to play games.

Bedtime was hard for Micah. My parents were sleeping in my room and chose to leave the door open for him. I slept in the office, also with the door open. He was very confused. The wrong people were in the right bed; the right person was in the wrong bed. What’s a boy to do? Several times he joined my folks, only to creep up and peer into their faces with a quizzical look, and promptly leave.

He did the same with me, but sometimes settled in to sleep. The office bed is a single, with a topper that is larger. I’m worried that if I get too close, I’ll roll right out. The other side against the wall has body pillows so I can use the bed like a day bed, and read in the sunshine. I never do. No matter where I start in the bed, single or queen, I always seem to end up hugging the edge while Micah stretches out in the middle. It was no different that night. And having never really been in that room before, he used the opportunity to explore…and he’s a very curious boy…

One day this week, I really let him explore. I gave him access to the closet.

I should mention that while he sleeps stretched out, he no longer stretches by my face. It has been nice to wake up and not have his back feet on my face. Especially on nights when he’s had a wet tuna treat. He farts.

Micah also snores.

He was happy Monday night when order was restored, and the right person was in the right place.

Too bad about the blind blockers though…

“I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.” – Bill Dana

Dear Diary – Week 13, 2026

02 Thursday Apr 2026

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Dear Diary – It sounded like a parody of a great heist movie. A truck disappeared en route from Italy to Poland carrying 400,00 bars. But not gold bars, no, 12 tons of Kit Kat Candy bars. While the company applauded their excellent taste, they are taking the theft seriously. There’s no telling where the stolen merchandise will end up and the thieves ought to exercise caution. Bars can be identified using the batch code so perhaps one of us will the one to give Kit Kat…it’s big break.

Dear Diary – At times, Micah is the sweetest, following me around the house, watching me cook dinner from his perch. He curls up with me at night, sometimes stretched out alongside me with his paws wrapped around my shoulders and his head tucked under my chin.

But then one morning, he discovered how to get behind the blinds in my room and Dr. Jekyll became Mr. Hyde. That evening he was obsessed with blinds and no amount of chasing, cajoling or tossing of pillows would deter him. When I went to pick him up, he would scramble under the bed just out of reach. Eventually, I evicted him by luring him out by going to the loo. He followed, and then I tossed his stuffed fish down the stairs and he thundered down after it. Sucker! I didn’t hear from him again until I got the next morning. Apparently I slept so soundly, I didn’t hear the terrible storm that blew through.

The next morning, he became obsessed with the dining table. I got plenty of exercise marching back and forth between the table and couch, to remove him. I even covered it with tin foil and sprayed it with an offensive orange-scented body spray. He would just walk around the edge of the table to avoid the foil. (I also have foil on my piano and my t.v. stand).

I confused him that evening, but removing the suitcase under the window and placing bottles of lotion along the edges of the blinds. He paced along the edge of the bed, whining because he really wanted the blinds open, but finally gave up and curled up beside me. Besides, he’s found a new one to annoy me. Since I keep him awake in the evening when he wants to snooze, he is now waking me at dawn when I want to snooze.

Joke is on him though. I can kick him out and close the bedroom door.

We did solve the problem with the cords on the blinds. The blinds are now permanently open and the cords are tied with twist ties near the ceiling. Micah still tries to reach them, stretched out like a panther, but they are at less risk of being torn to shreds.

I hope.

I does mean that we are on full display for the entire neighbourhood. They can see what we are wearing, what we are eating, and what watching on t.v. It’s like living in a fish bowl.

Dear Diary – I had sticker shock today. I picked up a new prescription and it cost me $300. And that was after it went through our insurance company! Praying for permanent results!

Dear Diary – Our church held a Ladies’ Night and I helped decorate by tying pink satin ribbons on chairs. Considering the shape of the metal chairs, it was a bit of a challenge, but the end result was much applauded.

Much like a shower, we played games. I was more interested in the food. I’ve never seen charcuterie served in cup before, but it was delicious.

Of course, we dressed up and many wore hats or fascinators. I spent the afternoon crafting a few and happily shared with friends. I only burned my finger on the glue gun once, which means I did it right! I wore a vintage 1940’s hat with white flowers that matched the flowers on my Mom’s dress. I also led a time of worship through music.

I look like my Mom.

It was a really great night of fun, testimony, and worship, but it’s taken me most of the week to recover. Consequently, dear diary, I don’t have any fascinating tales to regale you with and I haven’t gone to far to experience disasters.

I suppose I should be thankful.

The snow is melted and there are hints of Spring. I see tiny green things pushing up through the damp earth and miniature red buds forming on the tips of the trees. The skies have been cloudy and grey, but there’s warmth in my soul. Spring is coming.

“Blossom by blossom , the Spring begins.” – Charles Algernon

Dear Diary – Week 12, 2026

26 Thursday Mar 2026

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Dear Diary – It’s been less than a week since the cat, Micah, arrived. I may have made a horrible mistake. I’m having flashbacks to being stuck at home with a terrible two year old.

Of course, he has many redeeming characteristics, like adoring cuddles in my lap or draped across my torso, and he’s very quiet. Those green eyes make me want to melt.

I was so excited an hour before he arrived that I could have cried. Eldest Son and New Daughter brought him with them, along with his boxes and bags of stuff. He has the essentials, plus snacks, toys, a tower, and even a banana bed.

I kid you not!

On the first evening, he explored low to the ground, spending a few happy hours just rambling up and down the stairs. Only the bathroom was open until we saw how he behaved. I left the office door open, which is where I was sleeping, but I never saw him.

On Saturday, Eldest Son and his beautiful wife made brunch for us. When we sat down to eat, we realized we hadn’t seen Micah in awhile. Someone didn’t latch the door tight. We looked everywhere but I knew he’d emerge when he was hungry.

I came down first on Sunday morning and found Micah hunched down on the kitchen floor. He seemed nervous of me so I just talked to him and went on with getting breakfast. But as soon as Hubby came down the stairs, he ran right over for cuddles.

Hubby is not a cuddler. Not of me. And certainly not of a cat.

By Sunday evening, he was comfortable clawing the furniture.

On Monday, I tossed his blanket over my purple chair in the hopes of saving it. I rarely see him scratch it. He is often sitting in the chair when I get up in the morning. Then I purchased a scratching post on Marketplace. The gentleman who sold it to me had a great sense of humour and bonus, Hubby drove.

Micah likes to smell it.

I was talking to Mom Monday afternoon, feeling exasperated as I removed Micah from my dining table for the 405th time. Then I collapsed on the couch. He climbed on to me for our very first cuddle. It was glorious. I have longed for a lap kitty for 24 years, and with his soft mittens curled around my arm and a gentle rumble from his throat, I was in heaven.

Tuesday night was Halo night and he mostly snoozed comfortably beside me. Except during mid-match, he decided he needed attention and sat in front of the t.v. Youngest Son’s screen was completely obliterated and we were taking heaving fire. I was so distracted trying to shoo him off, I flew off the map and died. I tucked his new feather string toy between my knees and prayed he didn’t sink his claws into me.

“Cats can work out mathematically the exact place to sit that will cause most inconvenience.” – Pam Brown

He likes to climb on things. The piano. The hutch, which is covered in plants. The dining table. The t.v. stand. The side tables. He tries to move around the room on furniture, as if he’s avoiding LAVA. It wasn’t cute when Youngest Son did it. It’s not cute now.

I do play with him. I understand he gets bored and he has energy, something I most definitely lack. But it reminds me of playing cars. I get bored easily. There’s not a lot of mental activity involved, except listing the thousands of things I could be doing, or should be doing, or would rather be doing.

I’m not sure what he does at night. With free reign in all rooms but Hubby’s room and the Batcave, he doesn’t lack space or windows. Which are all wide open. I wrapped the blind cords on the back window onto a straw and taped them at the ceiling. I’m struggling to figure out what to do with the cords at the front. They’re tantalizing…and I’m short. My efforts thus far have been in vain.

Micah is highly food motivated. He loves his treats, and I put some in his toys to distract him, but he’s already figured out how they work. He has an electric auto-feeder and fountain. We don’t know how to work the feeder. It seems to drop a small pile every few hours. Pray that he is not on you when it sounds. He flies across the room like a leopard and he will use you as a springboard. Not that he’s desperate to eat. There’s often food in his dish in between offerings. The sound just triggers him.

I’ve learned to walk with him. Once I see him in my blind spot, I pause because I know he’s going to run in front of me. Id rather pause than face-plant on the stairs. He also likes to walk between my legs, which is both awkward for me and annoys him as I bounce off his sides.

My house is covered in litter, from the box which graces my dining room. Fortunately it doesn’t smell. It does let me know where he’s been. It covered not just the floor, but also every surface he touches. Gritty floors are a pet peeve of mine and the floors and stairs are continuously gritty.

Also like a two year old, Micah does not sleep all night. However, he leaves us alone. He follows us upstairs and wanders while we get ready. Last night, he curled up ON me after I crawled into bed. I was doing my Italian lessons, but as soon as I started flattening pillows and reaching for the light, he left. I don’t see him again until I come downstairs in the morning, no matter how late I’ve slept.

And just like a Mom of a two year old, I really, really need it!

“A cat will do what it wants when it wants, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” – Frank Perkins

Dear Diary – Week 11, 2026

19 Thursday Mar 2026

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Dear Diary – I saw an ad for a bungee dance class. It promises low impact and high intensity exercise. I think it’s a great way to get myself tied in knots and bounce my head off the floor a few times.

“My favourite exercise is a cross between a lunge and a crunch…I call it lunch.” – Unknown

Dear Diary – The weatherman was right. False Spring came and then vanished in a veil of white on Friday and Sunday. We travelled home on Saturday between storms. I was surprised to see it snowing furiously again Monday afternoon. I didn’t know we were to expect more snow, and north of us, a significant amount, but it explained why my head aches all day. I hate being a weather barometer. We were also promised high winds so Hubby turned up the heat in case we lost power in the night, but it only sparked the raging inferno of my dying youth. I had to duck outside to cool off. Our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Dear Diary – Saturday was Pi Day, and we celebrated with a pie…a pizza pie!

Dear Diary – It’s been over six years since I left my job in the cubicle of purgatory and over a year since I’ve been contacted by someone looking for something. Usually a password. I got a text this week, looking for a password for an account because they were locked out. Surprisingly, despite several requests to be removed from this account, I still have access. But I don’t know the password.

One of these days it will finally be sorted and I will rejoice. If it takes less than a decade, I’ll be surprised.

Dear Diary – I read something about massaging your face, with or without a roller before bed, to encourage fat to “melt” or dissolve and drain into the body for disposal. So I tried it.

I think it’s draining to my middle.

This week I received a request from the company from which I buy my business cards, asking icould use a

Dear Diary – Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I’m ready for my close-up!

Yes, I wore this outfit to the chiropractor but I took off my boa because it sheds terribly. Too bad I forgot to take off my crown when I went in for bloodwork…and to pick up tea at Tim’s. No one commented but I did get some strange looks.

Dear Diary – I asked Youngest Son to help me pull out my shoes and boots from the darkest corner of my closet. It’s time to let them go. I have 5 pairs of tall boots. One I can still wear, two I’m happy to part with. The other two smart a little. They still fit divinely but after only a few minutes, my back and knee were questioning my fashion choices.

Youngest Son must have sensed my pain because he gave me a hug and reminded me it’s just stuff. Then he left me to have my “moment”. I wonder if I can sell them on Facebook Marketplace or if Plato’s closet would make me a reasonable offer. Either way, it’s time…

Dear Diary – Oops! They did it again! I ordered black tea…I got coffee with cream. Hubby knocked on the drive-thru window and we held up the line while they fixed their mistake…by giving me black coffee. Hubby parked and went inside to politely share his frustration. He came out with black tea, a free doughtnut, and a lighter spirit.

Dear Diary – Dreams really do come true!

After 25 years of begging, pouting, asking nicely, lamenting and praying, I’m getting a cat! He belongs to a friend of my duaghter-in-law, who along with Eldest Son, has been keeping an eye out for me.

Micah arrives Friday!

I have so much cat-proofing to do in the house. Wish me luck!

“The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams… unless your dream is to be chased by a giant chicken. Then maybe try something else.” –  Jason Love

Dear Diary – Week 10, 2026

12 Thursday Mar 2026

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Dear Diary – We experienced an earthquake a few weeks ago, around 11:00 p.m. I didn’t think anything of it because it’s not unusual for my bed to do a little jiggling at night. Get your mind out of the gutter. We live near train tracks and a lot of heavy freight trains run at night.

What I wasn’t expecting was the Flash Boom that went off Saturday night. I was in the process of rolling off the couch standing up to get a drink when I was blinded by the light. The thunderous boom that immediately followed made me jump. Whatever it was, it was close. Was it a train derailment? An explosion at the pharmaceutical company nearby? A transformer blowing? A meteorite or a lightning strike?

While it was raining lightly, there had been no thunder prior to, nor after, the flash boom.

Hubby was unperturbed, but I wasn’t the only one in the neighbourhood who was confused. I opened the blinds to find my neighbours staring back at me from their front windows. It was awkward and uncomfortable. I wandered to the kitchen for my drink and was greeted with stares in the back windows too. It felt ominous and unsettling.

We have no idea what it was. Hubby even checked a website that shows lightning strikes; there wasn’t even any activity in our area that night. I found no mention of anything odd. At least not here. I’ve found a couple of conspiracy theory FaceBook sites. Maybe they’re on to something?

Dear Diary – I watched a squirrel today, wending it’s way along the branches of the lilac with ease, it’s tail a black plume like a feather. It had a large piece of white bread in its mouth. “What a smart, handsome fellow,” I thought.

And then I watched him carefully bury his bread…in the snow and run away.

Dear Diary – A research recently discovered that clutter in the home stresses women out more than men.

Was this study conducted by men?

We could have told them that, taken the money they’d have saved, and gone on a shopping spree!

Dear Diary – I have a peeping tom…

Dear Diary – I dropped my sewing machine at the store for a desperately needed deep cleanse. I browsed the store before heading to the Mall with Mom, tempted to buy a new pattern to try. Based on recent history, I’d never finish the project, and not from a lack of effort. The dress I started is unfinished because it’s too small. The shirt is unfinished because the instructions are bizarre and unclear., and the shirt is probably too big. And the bottle bag…while I’ve made one, I cannot for the life of me figure out how I did it!

I decided that walking away was the safest choice. Especially considering insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Dear Diary – I was talking to Hubby this afternoon and somehow we started reviewing what was left in the fridge that he was supposed to eat. He ended with “there’s probably some other gross stuff in fridge that I don’t know about”.

I told him it’s normal for there to be gross stuff after I’ve been away for a week.

He kindly reminded me that there’s often gross stuff when I’ve stayed home. I do make an effort to stay on top of what’s in the fridge and needing to be eaten because I hate throwing out food. But sometimes things get pushed to the back and I can’t see them. Especially lately when I can’t. bend. down.

He told me it’s because I’m vertically challenged. I added that I’m also horizontally challenged. “You’ve seen me trying to roll over in bed. I look like a beached whale or a walrus on an ice floe,” I quipped. He thanked me for the mental image.

Dear Diary – I forced took Youngest Son to a job fair in my hometown earlier this week…and baked waited in the car. To his credit, he stopped and spoke to someone at nearly every booth. He came out with a big grin on his face and a list of companies with their names scratched out. Even if he doesn’t get a job, he’s had a good experience. (Plus I made him shave…). He already has one job interview for a job that’s more like a pyramid scheme, but he’s going for the experience (and he’s promised not to sign anything). There was one guy who thought they might need someone in administration and website design…so we’re praying Bob calls soon. I think it would be a great fit!

Dear Diary – Mom and I covered a lot of ground this week, with 2 days of shopping in two different cities. We move at a glacial pace compared to our younger years, with frequent snack and bathroom breaks in the food court where we can people-watch. We have no children to pick up from school or cows to milk!

I tried on lots of different things, with moderate success. There were some definite “nopes” as well, like yellow pants and rose-coloured overalls. I looked like a cartoon character in both. One made me look like a chubby banana; the other, a Mother Earth grandma-gardener, minus the plush grey mane. My hair looks more like pelt of a drowned rat and only has a few silver strands. But I now own yet another pair of jeans that I fully intend not to grow out of, but time will tell. They’re intentionally shorter at the ankle, which is perfect for the weather we’ve been having.

The weather network says that “False Spring” is over, but there are definite signs of Spring: melting snow, flocks of returning geese, and one big fat robin sunning himself in the trees. While the sun is toasty in the car, the heavy rains earlier this week and the still frozen ground created some chaos with plenty of flooding. There’s an icy wind again today and tomorrow we’re supposed to have more frozen rain or, dare I say it, more heavy, wet snow. Perhaps I will be stranded and have to stay an extra day or two. 🙂

Winter is grasping at straws and if history repeats itself, it will not win!

“I’m tired of winter and I’m ready to complain about summer.” – Unknown

Dear Diary – Week 9, 2026

05 Thursday Mar 2026

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Dear Diary – I woke up to a surprising text from Hubby Friday morning. He was offering to pick up dinner or take me out some time on the weekend. He also suggested we go on a “date” to Value Village to make fun of outdated fashions and take pics. Years ago, I went a few times with some girlfriends. We called it La Village and we had 8 rules:

1) Everyone gets their own cart. Baskets are too small!
2) Shop in an orderly procession, like a train, starting with the first row of racks. Proceed down one row and back up the next.
3) When shopping, look for items for both yourself, and for the others. Use discretion when inquiring about sizes!
4) While shopping, keep your eyes open for hideous items that would suit the personality of your other shoppers (or are just plain too outrageous to pass by). Slip them into your friends’ carts when they aren’t looking. Intimate apparel, bathing suits and pajamas are off-limits.
5) Clothes first – shoes last.
6) When it’s time to try on clothes (usually because the store will be closing soon), proceed to the dressing room in orderly, trainlike fashion.
7) If in doubt about the fit of an item, ask someone else to check you out.
8) Unless the “hideous” or costume-like outfit chosen for you by one of your friends is not totally inappropriate to be seen outside the dressing room, you must notify your friends that you are coming out, and when they are ready…come out! Alternatively, if the item is appropriate to show your friends but not the whole store, have them congregate outside the dressing room door and peek in. 

Hubby had no rules and we didn’t try anything on. We just took our time and pulled out whatever caught our eye. We found a couple of bright suit jackets, a jazzy leather number, and a bright gown for me. Who says red and pink don’t go together?

We also found a couple of gorgeous gowns…for Hubby. We have two weddings coming up. In fact, I shared photos of the gowns with our children…and his co-worker! I knew she could use a good laugh too.

I can’t help wondering what the designer was smoking when he or she puts together this splendid sweater: whales, palm trees, squirrels, mushrooms, acorns and…reindeer?

We parted ways for awhile, but not before I noticed another shopper following us. I think she was enjoying our banter. He went to look at books and I went to look at textiles. Hubby got bored faster than I did, so he had to endure a longer trip than he’d planned, and that included shoe shopping. I found a great pair of “army boots” for me. If I can’t wear heels, I’m wearing boots.

We ended our date at Tim’s for “coffee”. I believe the quote “we do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing” also applies to marriage. I hope we can find more affordable, and fun things to do. I’m not ready to be “old”.

Dear Diary – It had to a bright, sunny day. I’m not knocking it, really, it just makes the drive home from the eye doctor’s office that much more memorable. Except that after the appointment, I went to Fabricland. I had no idea that there was a store 2 minutes from the office, which is unfortunately closing. That makes the third Fabricland in the last six months.

I exercised restraint and only purchased a few things, but I took my time looking for them. And nearly every person with whom I made eye contact did a double take. That’s what happens when your eyes are diluted. I look liked I was on drugs.

I forgot to tell you that the walls in the doctor’s office are thin. Or maybe it was just the impatient patient next store. Or rather, her daughter. The patient was 104 and moved faster than I did. Maybe I should get a walker. I don’t think the patient or her daughter was enjoying the experience, but I do think the patient liked the new pink frames they chose for her.

Note to kids: when if I get to be 104, pink glasses would be a great accessory.

Dear Diary – Hubby helped me make mushroom risotto on the weekend. I had two similar recipes…both missing key instructions. So I followed my instincts and he followed my instructions. It was delicious!

Dear Diary – Again with the coffee! I won a free hot beverage with Tim’s annual Roll Up The Rim event and I ordered an XL steeped tea. I got coffee.

They sent me home with an XL tea and coffee.

Youngest Son has been nursing the coffee for 2 days now. He reheats it in a mug with whatever variation of milk and/or sugar to try to find how he likes it. I think he’d like to like coffee more than he likes coffee.

I’m the same way with roller coasters!

It’s one cup and one carafe. Really, just how hard is that?!?

Dear Diary – Sometimes it’s good to look back and see where we were a month ago, a year ago, twenty years ago. Last year on this particular week, I was feeling overwhelmed by busyness at home. My house was littered with boxes and bins as Youngest Son had just returned from college. My car was coming up with new and amazing ways to piss me off.

Here I am, a year later.

I’m still the “mom” and feeling overwhelmed. Youngest Son is still home. My car is still a jerk.

Also, I’m still counting my blessings. 🙂

And we’re going to have freezing for the next 12-16 hours.

“That’s just the way it is
Some things will never change
That’s just the way it is
Ah, but don’t you believe them“
– The Range/Bruce Hornsby

Dear Diary – Week 8, 2026

26 Thursday Feb 2026

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Dear Diary – My relationship with my heating pad is becoming serious. I “popped” a rib again and it’s slowly healing, but it’s a rough couple of weeks. It’s kind of a pain because not only am I in pain, but it really impacts those innocuous functions throughout the day, like putting on shoes and brushing my hair. So I’ve been balancing being up with being down, and when I’m down, I’m roasting on the couch in front of my latest vice: old seasons of Project Runway!

Last week, the designers were challenged to create a chic, “snow day” look and to inspire them, they were taken to a hot spot cafe to draw, and that cafe was anything but hot. Named the -5 Cafe (which no longer seems to operate), the designers were dressed in fur coats and silly hats with ears before entering the cafe crafted with ice decor and furniture, and lit with neon lights. It looked pretty rad to me, and at only -5, it would have a cool experience. No pun intended. For most of the designers, it was 15 minutes of torture.

I wonder how they’d fair here in Canada.

While our temperatures have dipped much lower than -5C for months now, we have been treated to more days with single digits (still negative) and sunshine! I often see birds and squirrels hanging out on the porch rail, soaking in the sun.

Winter can be a menopausal girls’ best friend. While I have been having fewer power surges of late, it isn’t uncommon for me to slip out the back door for a “breath of fresh, icy cold air”. Especially when the oven is on.

(Summer is coming and I’m too fat to fit in the fridge!)

I’m sure Robert Palmer wasn’t writing about women of a certain age when he composed his song, Addicted to Love, in 1986. The raging inferno of our dying youth, the foggy brain, the insomnia. Read the lyrics and tell me you don’t see it.

The lights are on, but you’re not home
Your mind is not your own
Your heart sweats, your body shakes
Another kiss is what it takes

You can’t sleep, oh, you can’t eat
There’s no doubt, you’re in deep
Your throat is tight, you can’t breathe
Another kiss is all you need

The only thing he got wrong: we don’t want to be kissed. We don’t want to be touched.

It’s partly a hormone thing As our estrogen and progesterone circles the toilet, so too does our desire for intimacy. Sure, there are plenty of other reasons I could elaborate on but in the interest of time and saving marriages, I’ll just stick to that one. I can honestly say “Another kiss” isn’t going to fix this.

Something else I don’t think I’ll ever see fixed is at my local coffee shops: my order! If I was the betting type, I’d be rich by now. You’d think that “Large. Steeped tea. Black.” would be an easy order, but I have received nearly ever conceivable variation on that theme: Large black coffee. Large steeped tea milk. Large steeped tea cream. Large green tea milk. Black coffee sugar. London Fog Latte.

Not. Even. Close.

I’m sure the person passing me my elixir at the drive-thru window thinks I’m nuts, because I smell the lid. I learned a long time ago not to trust the initials scribbled with crayon on the lid. But that only clarifies the debate between coffee and tea. The colour seeping out is sometimes an indication that there’s been an unauthorized addition. Sometimes. Dairy shows but sugar doesn’t.

It’s worse for Hubby. He has no sense of smell.

I know what you’re thinking: Stop going through the drive-thru. Here’s the thing: they get it wrong just as often inside the store, as outside. I have watched them do it!! Not to mention the service inside is practically non-existent. I’ve had to holler for attention so. many. times. And yes, I exercise patience. I wait. Especially when it’s busy. But when I can hear everyone yucking it up in the back room and I’ve been waiting awhile, you do not want to get my order wrong.

Again, I can hear you thinking, go to another store, but I’ve found, it’s the same everywhere!

I could stop going altogether, but that’s never going to happen, ’cause when they get it right, it’s magical!

(And no one gets hurt.)

Dear Diary – Week 7, 2026

19 Thursday Feb 2026

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Dear Diary – Last night Hubby asked me, out of the blue, if I wanted to learn pottery. I do, but it’s expensive…and I already have a hobby that I suck at. I spent 5 hours sewing yesterday, only to rip most of it out.

Speaking of pots, I destroyed my stock pot last night. I was so distracted, chopping parsnips and cooking lentils, I didn’t notice the oil overheating…until the smoke detector went off. Hubby was AWOL. Youngest Son didn’t seem phased that something in the hallway was screaming like a cat with an ice cream headache. I threw open the back door and did what any logical person would do: I tossed the smoking pot into the snowbank in the back yard. Then I yelled at Youngest Son to come and help me, on my way to open the front door.

He retrieved the pot a few minutes later and it’s not only scorched, but dented in a way that likely compromises the copper bottom. Years ago, Hubby burned his foot when a compromised pot with a copper bottom starting melting and dripped on him.

The only thing I want melting near me is some of the Jell-o around my middle.

“Someday I’ll be skinny. Today is not that day .” – Unknown

Dear Diary – Yesterday was another snow day. Tomorrow may be a snow day too. We’re slowly building up “Canadian pyramids” in the neighbourhood, particularly in parking lots.

But not quite as tall as February 18, 2014!

But February isn’t over yet!

Dear Diary – On Valentine’s Day, 1967, Aretha Franklin recorded a song that would hit the top of the charts only four months later, and the essence of that song is what our world is sorely in need of – Respect. Just a little bit.

I attended a leadership conference a few years ago, and the first speaker started with the importance of respect in the workplace. The study he cited found that 95% of the people polled believe we live in an age when disrespect and discourteously has reached a new low, and 50% of employees admitted receiving at least 1 rude or disrespectful comment from their superiors every week. The speaker admonished leaders draft and adhere to a Civility Policy in their organization. But what really caught my attention was the recommended content of that policy. He suggested starting with statements like “greet and acknowledge each other”, say “please and thank you”, and “apologize when you are wrong”.

I’m pretty sure my Kindergarten teacher wrote this policy. It was a long time ago for me, back in the dark ages when we walked uphill miles to the school (both ways), but the rules were pretty basic and I don’t think they’ve changed.

We could all write a book a day filled with the examples of disrespect we saw, everywhere we went. The guy who was short-tempered with the grocery store clerk. The driver who decided the red light was just a suggestion, and waved politely to you (with one finger) when you disagreed. The Mom ignoring her kids in the restaurant as the cashier pointedly (and repeatedly) yelled the order #…while the whole restaurant stared at Mom. The Princess crossing the road as slowly as possible.

The speaker went on to share 10 Rules for Respect and they were simple things; Like keeping spirited conversations from becoming personal and not interrupting or dominating the conversation. Like being courteous, open-minded and careful to avoid “incendiary” words. In other words, follow the golden rules and play nice in the sandbox.

Probably the biggest points that stood out to me were: Show up on time and do what you say you will do!

As he talked, the woman in front of me:

  • fixed her hair
  • picked lint of her jeans
  • snapped photos of the “jumbotron” on her phone
  • ate fruit and glugged weird green goop
  • cleaned her nails
  • made the diamonds on her engagement ring sparkle
  • texted
  • played bejewelled
  • and exited to the bathrom multiple times…

…all in one morning.

Like most of the world, I have been keeping an ear on Olympic events as they unfold, and I’ve been disappointed in some of the behaviour. Here, on the world stage, one can normally expect excellence and that includes good sportsmanship. Certainly sportsmanship and respect go hand-in-hand as fundamentals in sports, right up their with integrity and graciousness. But it seems many events are plagued by accusations of cheating, uttered threats, and foul language.

Stuff happens, I know. People are people, but as representatives of our countries in the Olympics, isn’t even more imperative? As examples to the next generation of athletes, whether they ever compete in the world playground or only in their own backyard?

R E S P E C T.

Just a little bit.

Dear Diary – Week 6, 2026

12 Thursday Feb 2026

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Dear Diary – It’s been a slow news week, but not a slow week. I’ve been out every day, for hours at a time, not necessarily doing things I want to do. Sounds like I have a job. A lot of those excursions involved driving places and waiting in a freezing car for someone else. I have heated seats, but they mostly cook my undercarriage.

“The trouble with retirement is taht you neer get a day off.” – Abe Lemon

Youngest Son and I started a cleaning project, but so far, we haven’t gotten very far. I would if I could, bend down that is, to clean the cupboards, but my knee has decided to remain in a permanently swollen state, so it’s been up to him. He emptied and washed out the lower cupboards one afternoon. It took him, like 10 minutes, and it looks great. but he missed one corner.

My counter is “L” shaped and in the crook of the “L”, the shelves slope down. It’s worse on the bottom shelf because that slope ends in a hole in the corner. A hole which, in bendy-er days, I plugged with a piece of cardboard. Youngest Son didn’t believe me until I showed him with my phone’s flashlight. That’s when we discovered a box of cookie crumbs. I couldn’t reach it, no matter how far I stuck in my nano head.

Once Youngest Son retrieved it, I went looking for the expiry date. I finally found it, under a thick layer of dust.

“If it’s that dusty, Mom, it’s probably expired,” said the peanut gallery. And the gallery was right. It had expired…7 years ago! Embarrassing as that is to admit, it’s confirmation that we don’t have any mice or rats inside.

Yet.

I noticed an absence of birds one afternoon amongst frantic trips from mess to disaster to “must get dealt with today” piles. I finally spotted the culprit and grabbed my camera, but the watcher felt me watching him and took off. We have a peregrine falcon in our neighbourhood and I’m worried he’ll snack on my feathered friends. The squirrels, however, are undeterred. Seconds after the falcon flew off, a squirrel crawled out from under my neighgour’s porch roof and sat in full view, wagging his tail. Bold? Or just stupid?

Yesterday, I caught two squirrels playing peek-a-boo and tag with each other…in my blue recycle bins. Now I now who to blame for knocked over flower pots.

I did have rehearsal Thursday night. My car made it to and from, but not on time. I didn’t know there was a protest going on in the park and got caught in a crowd of cars, flags and people…everywhere. It was mildly inconvenient, especially since I had forgotten my cell phone at home. I couldn’t let anyone know where I was. But I mostly felt sorry for the very cold policeman. He was manually changing the lights at the main intersection, in an effort to keep traffic moving in all 4 directions.

I stopped at the grocery store after rehearsal and met a couple from my former church. I remembered her name, as soon as I saw her husband. Don’t you hate that when it happens? Neither of us were up for a big chat though as the store was closing soon. I helped her find jello, but we couldn’t find plain gelatin powder.

I needed gelatin for a baking project: Raspberry mousse.

I have never made mousse, mostly because 90% of it is cream, and I’m lactose intolerant. It was easier than I thought, at least this eggless version, and it was delicious. I especially loved the deep rich pink.

I did not love how my gut chose to become a vise at 3 a.m. The guys got the rest. I got to cross mousse off my “baking bucket list”.

When I went to pipe the mousse (which literally ran through the piping bag and started pooping on the floor), I discovered 2 ramekins ran away. They got added to the “List of Weird Things That Have Vanished in the House Lately”. I’m happy to report that Youngest Son knew where he had put them and they are safely reunited with their partners. I’m still missing 1/2 meter of black lace (that lived in the same spot for a year), 2 pattern books, 4 tiny socks, and the lid for my small brown casserole dish.

I am not willing to post a reward for the return of any of them. Yet.

I noticed this week that one day I had 130 visitors and over 250 views, but only 1 like. That’s pretty discouraging. As for visitors/views, it was probably AI, and it’s not going to learn anything from me…

I found the start of a parody I was writing to the tune of “The Sounds of Silence”. I wrote it after snuggling recently with my grandkitty, Webster.

Hello, Lint brush, my old friend
I have cat hair on me again
I was dumb and I wore black pants
Pet the cat and then I wiped my hands
And now, I am covered from head to toe
Woe
Cat hair is the bane of my existence

Hubby recently sorted through a pile of discs in his room and found one that had caused a huge Valentine’s Day fight, back when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth.

It was a computer program and simple digital camera that would allow me to take my photo, upload it, and try out different hairstyles. He wanted to “fix the problem” of me complaining that I didn’t know what to do with my hair. I saw it more as he wanted to “fix me” because he “didn’t like me the way I am”. Words were said. Feelings were hurt. He took me shopping for something else.

Looking back, we were both idiots.

We’re still idiots, but a little less hot-tempered passionate full of unrealistic expectations.

“When you see a married couple walking down the street,
the one that’s a few steps ahead is the one that’s mad.” – Helen Rowland