The week in photos.  It was a good week, peaceful.  The dog park, early one morning.

It's been three years since Jack was taken into foster care and came to live with us.  He was so little.  I'm so thankful for the people who called the police and stood up for this little guy.

Hubby and I are in the process of cutting down a large tree that is dying from black knot fungus.  The tree needs to be removed and then burned to stop the spread of the spores.  The tree was big and it's taking some time.

I made a cake yesterday and bought Jack a costume for Halloween. I wasn't sure if he would want to dress up as The Flash but he loved it.  He's always showing us how fast he can run.  "Nana, Nana, watch me run!"  "Nana, Nana, time me, how fast I can run!"

I made a chocolate cake yesterday and when I was making the icing, he wanted to help as well, so he did and then licked the beaters clean.

A once lovely echinacea flower, looking worn out.

I forget where I read this but I liked it, a lot.  

 

Still life with a five year old.  My counter always has toys on it, waiting to be put away.

It's Thanksgiving here this weekend.  I made a pumpkin pie out of the pumpkin I grew this summer.  Way too much work.  Next year I'll just buy a can of pumpkin:)

 My walk with Charlie this morning.  The wind blew all night and lots of the trees are bare now.

I had my covid and flu vaccinations on Friday while I was at work.  I've felt kind of crappy all weekend.  Yay.  At least it's only the vaccinations and not the diseases.  Katie was not impressed with me though.  I did not meet expectations.

On the upside, I spoke to my middle daughter last night for an hour on the phone.  That always makes me feel good.

I had a very strange dream last night.  I dreamed that I was on a ship and there was a killer on board, slitting people's throats.  It went on for some time and all I remember is that there was so much blood, and I had to triage who I could help, because I couldn't help everybody.  I remember staunching the bleeding of a woman whose carotid artery was cut.  I wasn't afraid for my own life though, which seems odd, just those around me.  Was this about hurricanes and wars and fires?  

I was reading about natural disasters this morning, as one does, especially when there is another hurricane heading for Florida again.  I wondered if people become less materialistic or more materialistic if they lose everything.  Not surprisingly, people have been studying this, especially with the increase of natural disasters.

One study found that people who are forced to confront their own mortality, tend to become more materialistic, while those who experienced gratitude, tended to become less materialistic.  This seems like quite a muddy result.  Where the people who were forced to confront their own mortality, afraid of death?  Were they younger?  Did they already highly value material goods before they lost everything?  

And were the people who experienced gratitude after a natural disaster already like that before they lost everything?  Were they older?  Did they care about material wealth prior to losing everything?  Had they accepted their own mortality?

So many questions but not really any good answers.

Hubby last night was telling me what would happen in our house if there was a hurricane heading our way.  He said that Jack and I, and the animals would be heading out.  I asked about him, he wasn't sure about that.  He plays a vital role in keeping the diagnostic imaging machines running and would be useful in a natural disaster.  I have no desire to die, but would send Jack with his grandma, and I would stay behind to allow a younger nurse, with children, to leave.  

Thankfully we don't have to contend with hurricanes in northern Alberta but forest fires are a real threat.  The world is getting worse, natural disasters are increasing in size and intensity, and it seems like it will just be a matter of time before all of us will have to deal with loss and our own mortality. 

Oh, and Happy Wednesday:)

 

 

Jack is growing like a weed.  That's his strider bike that I bought for him when he was three years old, I think.  I was shocked to see how small it was, or how tall he was, now.  The poor guy was sick on Friday, fever off and on, vomiting, and just general feeling crappy.  He said his body hurt.  He's fine now but didn't want to go to daycare this morning because it's now OSC (out of school care) and he doesn't like it.  He doesn't like one of the teachers there, and to be honest it's noisy and chaotic, although maybe it's not like that all the time.  There are a lot of transitions in OSC, kids coming and going in the mornings and the afternoons, which makes it look very chaotic.  Jack is like me and doesn't do well with chaos.

I took Charlie out for a walk this morning, and then afterwards took Heidi out.  The weather here is still lovely and the trees are not yet done their fall fashion show.

We're in the process of cutting down a large tree, with black knot fungus.  Hubby climbs the ladder and cuts down the limbs, while I chop them into pieces small enough to burn.  I don't mind doing it and I have become something of an expert on starting fires and keeping them going.

I finished reading "Remarkably Bright Creatures" and cried, again, even though I knew the ending.  Another part of the book caught my attention.  Tova made a mistake, she destroyed something that meant a lot to another person, and she was determined to "make it right".  Tova doesn't argue or excuse her behavior; she made a mistake and accepted that it had caused pain to another person.  Then she figured out how to "make it right".  It reminded me of AA and their 12 step program.  Part of that progam requires people to make amends, to "make it right".  I don't see many examples of the alcoholics that I know, or most people for that matter, making amends.  Have you ever made amends to someone?  Has anyone every made amends to you?  

Otherwise not much going on.  I'm focusing on the good and not the bad, and feel much better as a result.  Of course the sunshine helps.

I'm rereading "Remarkably Bright Creatures" by Shelby Van Pelt for my book club.  One of the lines near the beginning of the book caught my attention and resonated with me.  "Tova has always felt more than a bit of empathy for the sharks, with their never-ending laps around the tank.  She understands what it means to never be able to stop moving, lest you find yourself unable to breathe."  When I read that, I felt it.

I'm retired now.  I don't have to go to work four days a week.  I can relax, but I can't relax.  I try to relax and I am getting a little better, but I push myself all day long.  This morning I started making tomato sauce at 6:30am, while Jack watched TV.  I took the dogs, one at a time, for long, hard walks.  I did laundry, shopped for groceries and then had some lunch.  It's afternoon now, almost time to pick up Jack and I'm tired.

I keep moving, stay busy because why?  I'm the same at work, just keep going, don't sit down.  Is it a Protestant thing?  A Calvinist thing?  That I'm only worthy if I work and produce something?  Did I miss out on Catholic and Jewish guilt, only to be sadled with a Protestant work ethic?

I've never really thought about it before.  Is it a Protestant work ethic or is it ADHD?  All I know is that I have a hard time sitting still and because I'm a judgy type of person, I think less of people who are able to relax and sit and enjoy life.  Sigh.  

It never ends, does it?  This looking in the mirror at oneself.  Oh, and I judge myself for being judgy too.  

People (I mean myself) are weird.  I'm weird.  Probably not any weirder than anyone else, but still weird.  

There's nothing wrong with me, other than I seem to have lost my get up and go.  Nothing interests me right now and I'm even having a hard time reading blogs or leaving comments.  

My sister in law is visiting right now and I took Jack over to visit her at my niece's place.  My niece doesn't have children, she has cats, hence the fish head shaped cat bed.

The trees continue on their yearly ritual of changing colours.  I walk the dogs.  I worked last Friday and we had a gentleman with a severe allergic reaction.  A code was called but no compressions were needed.  Sadly it will be this gentleman's last CT scan because it showed the tumour had collapsed the right upper lobe of his lung and was pressing on his SVC.  The doc talked to him and the patient now was days to weeks, and not months.  So my heart broke at little.  And then I had a thirty-nine year old man with metastatic rectal cancer; I don't realize how hard my job was, until I go back there.  The grief is overwhelming sometimes.

I went to see "Come From Away" with three friends on Saturday night.  I can't say enough good things about it.  It made me laugh and it made me cry.  My ex-husband was flying on 9/11 and I remember the terror I felt, the terror so many felt, that day.  We didn't know what was happening, or what else would happen.  The musical was about the planes that were forced to land in Gander, Newfoundland on 9/11 because American airspace was closed.  It was the stories of the people on the planes and the stories of the people in Gander who took strangers into their homes.  Turns out my sister in law, my niece and her boyfriend were sitting not far from us, but none of us knew that.

The hurricane and the aftermath have gotten to me as well.  It's not bad enough that people have died, or lost everything, or been cut off from the rest of the world, trump has to make it even worse by spewing lies.  He is an evil, vile man.  I'm tired of his shit, beyond tired. 

The leaves are falling and the days are much shorter.  It's dark now when I go to bed.  As I write this the dogs are behind me, wrestling.

Yesterday while I was walking Charlie and we were almost home, there was a woman with her bernedoodle pup, almost the same size as Charlie, off leash in the field behind us.  The soccer fields behind us are not off leash and there are signs up everywhere that say that.  Apparently that didn't apply to this woman and her pup though.  

We had to pass by the woman, so I shortened up Charlie's leash and then the pup started running towards us.  So I shortened the leash some more but then the pup was upon us.  Charlie snarled and pinned the pup to the ground (protecting me?).  The poor pup made awful noises but was not hurt, and ran off to it's owner.  

I asked the woman if her dog was okay and she glared at me.  I told her that maybe her dog should be on a leash and she responded with, maybe your dog should learn some manners.  I pointed out to her Charlie was on a leash because of his manners.

The strange thing was that I didn't get upset and my heart didn't pound.  I just stood my ground, which felt good.  I did feel bad for the pup but it wasn't hurt, it just wanted to play but Charlie didn't know that. The pup did learn that it shouldn't run at strange dogs. It was the owner's fault but she tried to blame me and I didn't take the blame.  Must have been a frustrating experience for her.

Last night I finished reading "The Life Impossible" by Matt Haig.  I loved it.  It made me smile, made me cry and made me want to travel to Ibiza.  Matt Haig struggles with depression and anxiety, in fact the first book of his that I read was "Reasons To Stay Alive".  The basic message of "The Life Impossible" is that we are all connected, not just to each other, but to everything on this planet, including the planet itself.  

Sadly, I just lost thirty minutes of my life looking at funny memes about dogs and I have nothing to show for it:)

So here's Heidi who knows she's a good girl.

And here's Charlie after a run in the paddock.