Saturday Snapshot...

I'm not sure if this was after Danorama or not, but it's quite likely. This is my snow angel. I can remember my mother freaking out when we did this, of coarse five kids, covered in snow and no dryer. I'd freak out too. And I can also remember DANiel trying to fit in with his lifeguard buds and doing this in their bathing suits after the first snow fall. I was sitting there waiting for him and he and his buddies ran out through the fire exit, (life guards need to make a big splash in other areas than the pool) and making snow angels in their half clothed bodies, and then jumping/cannonballing it into the pool. Aren't boys silly?

The good thing is, I don't do DANiel's laundry anymore, so it didn't matter if he made a snow angel and came home wet, the bad news is I don't get to do DANiel's laundry anymore, so I know his whites aren't that white. Aren't mothers silly?

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by At Home With Books.

What a fab day...

I didn't post on Sunday, it was far too exciting. I did another bookbinding class. Full metal jacket, yes another one. The other day when I did the photo challege with clocks I suddenly realize the book I planned on journalling in was designated for my thoughts about my son S. Vincent. So I needed a new one.
My sisters and I often have a chuckle at the things my mother use to say, we just hated it when she was right. So I was off to make another one, book that is. I had brought a portion of her old sewing patterns home with no idea what to do with them but, I had a skathingly brilliant idea on Sunday morning and then it just happened.
You simply start with a hunk of suede or leather, and some steel plates from Home Depot. Of course Carolyn does all the prep.







Then after some alchohol ink stamping, and japanese screw punching and eyelet attachment, your spine is ready to add signatures.













I decided to use some scrapbooking paper with communication themes, like telegraphs, letters etc. as well as some of the old sewing pattern envelopes(Only McCalls or Simplicity, my mother hated using Vogue or Butterick patterns) for the covers to each of the eight signatures, thus giving me some chapters to my stories.















I even added beads to the spine and fed the thread back through for a dangley book mark.










It had to have a mauve/lilac spine, I most certainly will know it's my mother's words that I have recorded, it's her favorite color. You can see how little it takes to excite me. I do take pleasure in the little things.

Advent Wreath

Awhile back I wrote about not being able to find my Advent Wreath. Well it seems it doesn't live here anymore. I never found it, only the candles survived. So I'm making one tonight. Now if you could see my house you'd laugh. Over the past week, we closed up my mothers home and I was not able to part with many of the old pieces of furniture. So they are all here piled up with not a square inch to move. I'm so grateful for my kids and my husband not minding the mess, (I've trained them well). So in amongst these OLD things we will have a great Christmas, and I can tell them stories about everything, They think I'm exaggerating. I'm not. For example the kitchen cupboards downstairs have no handles (now this is easily 30yrs., in my mothers house) because my parents couldn't agree on what kind. I'm thinking I must be my mother's daughter, since there is still about 3 feet of baseboard missing in my kitchen, because I want it a certain way and my husband doesn't "feel" like doing it. So I'll have to lasso my son. He loves to bang things around. So that's today's adventure. I've done almost NO Christmas shopping and I don't plan on doing any. Imagine that.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all. I try to be thankful for everything, everyday, but somehow some negative little worm crawls into my life to just mess things up. I am so thankful to all my readers that send positive, funny comments or even comments at all. I'm thankful for the powers that be, for guiding me down the path to feeling better. I can't believe that the smallest gesture, or phone call just happens. As you can tell I don't believe in coincidence. On Thursday evening when I arrived home from my mother's home, Sasha said I had a call and that a product I had ordered had arrived and I should pick it up. Of course being of unsound mind, I could not recall ordering anything. I thought o.k. yesterday was a nice day for a road trip I'll just go and see what it is I ordered, and lo and behold a lovely lady made my day. I'm thankful for Katie.(Princess Katie that is). I not only got a my order which I had obviously forgotten about, but found a home for my mothers cat. I love Katie, I would let her have my children, that's how much I trust her so to know that my mother's cat will be well loved and looked after is such a relief. When my boy's were little we use to always do some Thanksgiving craft with our hands, like the one in the photo, I would like to put my hands together now and say thank you indeed. While I'm still having a negative feelings, the good stuff keeps coming to the top, thank you to those of you who care enough to help me feel that way. Enjoy your turkey and pies.

Belated Birthday Wishes

Not really belated, October 2nd is my mother-in-laws birthday. I don't remember why I could not get to blog about it, must of been something depressing in the rest of the day to cause that, however, I did wish her a great day and more importantly a great year. She's the lady you see in the photo with my husband, her eldest son. I won't tell you how old she was this year, suffice it to say that the photo was taken when my husband had a full head of brown hair, which is not the case now. Gaida, is the mother of seven children, six of them boys. That should get her into heaven without any questions asked, and I know St. Peter is at the gates, but I'm sure he has a female assistant since you know things would not be organized otherwise, and she will certainly put in a good word for Gaida. It's been a rough ride for Gaida, and she does it all without a single complaint, and all with a smile, or a joke, or a laugh. She's only too willing to help anyone if she can. She's a great gardener, a loving mother and an all around good person. I'd like to wish her STO LAT, but I don't know that anyone wants to live to be a hundred years old. I do wish her pleasure from each flower she plants, and that's a lot, a kind word from her children, and grandchildren and great grandchildren and a healthy future. Happy Birthday MOM

Antiques Road Show

Often when I'm in control of the T.V. remote, I get to watch the Antiques Road Show. Usually I have Sasha's laptop with me and am eager to look up things. One of the things I looked up was an artist that I could swear my mother had hidden in her moldy basement. The excitement mounted as I took my bus to her house to pull it down from the wall and out of the frame anxiously looking for the # I had researched to see if it was a treasure. Alas it was a five and dime copy. I am so amazed that people don't know what valuables they have in their basements. I'm sure there are couple of other goodies down there. Not sure if I'll benefit from the hunt, but it can be exciting. And what would I do with such treasures. I like treasures with history, I don't think that's what the experts call it. Like the clock that my mother use to have in her living room, it belonged to a lady named Zofia Jendreczyk, she wanted my mother to make her more than one dress and this was the payment. I don't think it ever chimed, (my father being on night shift too often). One day when Zofia's husband got wind that she was trading off his antiquities for designer garments(my mother's designs)he dropped in and paid the bill and asked for his clock back. What a shame, I wonder where it is now, since they have both died, no kids. Probably at some Goodwill. I'm always looking there too. I have a couple of vases that Pani Kowalski talked me into buying when I was a starving student, she was working at Mills ( the china store) and I kept looking at them when I waited for the bus to go back to my dorm room, she convinced me that they would be worth something someday. It was a consignment. I loved them, and she let me put them on layaway. Imagine that, the bill totaled $30 and I put them on layaway. I still have them, Daniel plans on buying himself a Lamborghini when "I no longer need them" not a bad investment. Anyway I hope everyone looks at their treasures a little closer before you get ready for the garage sale. Like my crochet/embroidery treasures, I can picture Pani Dubiel crocheting, my sister Donna sleeping by the heat knitting, such memories you can't buy those. You could however, scrap them.

What kind of a sandwich are you?

In one of the e newsletters I receive the editor/creator of the newsletter also sends out journal prompts. I found this one particularly interesting. We were discussing being a member of the sandwich generation. You know those of us who are still parenting children at home and increasingly parenting our parents. It worries us, it is constantly on our minds. I'm sure we were not anticipating making the sacrifices we are now making. We rely on our siblings and anyone who is willing for support, but even that becomes not enough. Some days I would like to have a crystal ball just to know how it will all play out. Perhaps I can find a gypsy with a spare. GUILT is a huge issue. You feel bad sitting down to talk with someone or have a evening out, because you should be checking on your parent. And if you don't feel guilty someone will point out that you should. By the time things get settled will we feel like living ourselves, will we have the energy or health? As I write this I feel selfish. What the answer is I don't know. There just seems to be an overwhelming amount of questions.

I know it's not Mother's Day...

I know it's not Mother's Day but... by now most of my readers know that my mother is an elderly lady, WITH ATTITUDE, who relies on care from her family and outside help as well. It sort of came to light for me yesterday on my trek on the Go Bus, that the job of Mother is quite a life sentence. I spoke to my sister, who is now a grandmother, and we discussed her granddaughters integration into day care. How her daughter, the NEW MOM is taking it all. It has got to be the most difficult thing in the world to watch your baby cry when you leave her in the care of others. That's the right hand of the situation. What about the left? We (my sister and I) are also talking about leaving our Mother in the care of others, and her crying, when we leave her. We rely on our mothers for so much. As babes you know the care your children needed. Mine are MEN (or so they say) and yet when I come home from where ever, they still wait for dinner, or laundry or "cleanup after me..."not because they are not independent, but because that's always been my place for them. That part sucks. But I'm not sure being replaced by PIZZA PIZZA is any better. I know when it's the first day of school, or the first day of daycare or the first day of residence in a seniors home there are tears and guilt. I know it's the cycle of life, but sometimes wouldn't you just like to stop the cycle. I know I would like to leave my mom's house each time not feeling guilty, like there must be more that I could do to make her life more comfortable. I just don't know what! And while I say I'm doing everything I can, I'm never sure I am. Just as my niece will feel each time she leaves her baby at day care, she will never stop questioning it. Welcome to motherhood. She will forever wonder if she's doing the right thing. I'm still doing it. Even while I pack him up to go away to school. He's a man and I'm still thinking "Am I doing the right thing by letting him leave, What if?" It takes an awful lot of ADVIL to get through it. I know I've used enough to kill several elephants, but that's life. Motherhood is not for the faint at heart, and a role that requires serious consideration and commitment.

So I wonder if my mother feels that way, when she sees me leave, does she feel like a mom still? Has the dementia relieved her of that obligation? Maybe that's Gods way of saying it's quitting time, for her as a MOM.

My friend Leslie's mom passed away last weekend. Leslie is a caring daughter, a great mom and wife, and a good friend. I'm sure she is relieved that her mom is no longer in pain, I'm sure she is sad, and I'm sure there are feeling yet to come forward. I feel inadequately equipped to help her grieve. And guilty every time I complain about my mom. And at the end of the day all I can say is I'm so sorry for her loss.

I know it's not Mother's Day but it should be, everyday should be.

A MOTHER is she
who can take the place of all others.
But, whose place no one else can take.

Robert Browning

Photo, my mom and the baby

Raining again...

There is something about continuous rain that gets people down, and we ought to get out from under. I've been trying. Once again sorting and cleaning is on my agenda. I've been working on my heritage pictures. I came across a letter my sister Barb and I had written to our uncle in the states (not mailed, just written) we were on a great high and thought he could help us with our genealogy. The date on the letter is July 20, 2006. I didn't even know I had it. I assumed Barb had mailed it. I was thinking he didn't want to help. Now I'm afraid he may not be able to. His health has changed considerably. The moral of the story is, mail every letter you write, and don't wait to talk to someone it might be too late. It is much the same story with my mom, she always meant to write down where she and my dad traveled throughout the war, it never happened. As my dad has now been dead for 30yrs. and my mother is no longer able to give the information the attention to make it accurate, that avenue into our family history is closed.We can only go on what history recorded for us, and some tidbits of information we got during late night sewing. (My mother was a dressmaker and made us help her when she was running late on a project, to keep us awake she would tell us these very dramatic life situations.)

See what happens when it rains, you clean and find all these things that lead yet in another direction. I haven't lost my way, I just don't want to clean anymore. Now that we have been talking about rain, I can only think of a song by Roberta Flack,... raining again I ought to get out from under. Now that's another mess to clean up (albums many many albums.)

What goes around comes around?

By now you will have guessed that I'm pretty brain dead on the days I spend with my mother. There always seems to be some urgency at her house. Last week it was a visit from a friend who brought flower. Imagine that someone feeling overwhelmed when they receive flowers. Not me I'm delighted to get flowers of any kind. I would truly prefer not to get any at my funeral, but to have them now. Anyway the urgency of last week was that her dusters (those old lady housecoats they insist on wearing) are all tool long. Alice must have done something with them in the wash. Forget about the fact that my mother has osteoporosis and is quite likely shrinking. I know we could call her the incredible shirking pain in the neck. So in addition to the trousers that have elastic waistbands that are too tight, so I'm replacing them, I now have dusters to shorten. And then I had a scathingly brilliant idea! When we were children, there were four sisters, we always had dresses that were hand me downs, so they were too long, and my mother would put several tucks at the hemline so you could just let a tuck out as you grew. Well by the time the tucks came out the dress had been washed a million times and was faded except for the tucks. So you know how attractive that was. So I think that's what I'm going to do, put tucks into the dusters. After all what goes around comes around. Does that mean my boys will be putting darts into my jeans when I lose weight, so as not to waste the jeans. Oops.

If this photo was colored you would see the different shades of the hem. Talk about reduce reuse and recycle.

P.S. to this post, I am reminded by a nurse who works in a ward with dementia patience saying that you should not bring flowers, because often the patients will eat them. I suppose tossing them over the railing is a better alternative. There goes that saying "if you put all your troubles in a circle, you would gladly take back your own," not sure how accurate this is, but the general idea is the grass is not greener on your neighbors lawn.

A rose by anyother name

Andzia Wojtowicz Rose
Rose photo by R.K. Nowak

Yesterday was garden day, or so I thought. Every time I got out there and got into the thick of things, it would rain. I've come to the point in my life where I give myself a daily goal, or a task goal, so for yesterdays goal, in between down pours, was to weed out my rose garden. Well the task was not that difficult, a little prickly, but done. I thought I'm getting good at this, and while I still need to amend my soil and mulch the whole works, I can look out at breakfast and "smell the roses."

A number of years ago, when I was assisting my mother in her extensive rose garden, I commented that I liked one particular rose. Of course my mother and her friends use to exchange rose clippings, plant them and cover them with a jar and viola you had a bush. Thus, every rose in my mothers garden has a friendship attached to it. My garden of friends may not be quite as flowerful but none the less there are a few. The rose in the picture is one my mother clipped for me and planted in my own garden, she actually did three specimens, not trusting my gardening abilities, and they are all growing beautifully. The friendship attached to this rose was Angia Wojtowicz. When we were kids we loved it when Pani Wojtowicz would come over, because she always had dinner ready (meaning we didn't have to do anything) and (dishes would be done) our chore aswell. She made the BEST meatballs. She was an all around pleasure to have visit. So the saying by annonymous about fragrance of the flower remaining on the hand of the giver is quite accurate. Every time I prune around this rose I shall think of those meatballs and Andzia.

Just as a foot note, R.K. Nowak is my brother, I think he takes a great picture, even if he doesn't take many. Scrapworthy.

When it rained and I was forced to come in, I sorted pictures.

I know Martha does that thing with the roses, but I have not been able to find any information on how to do it. My mother-in-law also does it, but as both my mothers are not physically able to do this, if anyone knows how to do it I'd love to learn how. I'd like to keep some of my mothers friends in my garden too.

Adventures in dining

I don't eat out much. I kind of like my own cooking. I really like to know who's hands were in my food, however one cannot live on soups, fabulous as they might be and chicken and potatoes. If my boys had it their way we would eat pizza everyday. The only times I get to eat something a little different are when I go out. It's usually Tai, or Chinese. Well tonight we are sticking to good old meat and potatoes Canadian. The sisters are off to dinner at the Keg. Barb, my youngest sister is driving, so by the time she picks up Alice, Alice will need a double of something. Alice is a very nervous passenger. Barb is a very fast and free driver. Barb will have water, because she will have talked alot and need refreshment. Donna will be somewhat late. Donna is always busy. And they will be picking me up at a craft store. Dinner will be lovely. We'll all talk a lot and need water. I always find it amazing that even though we were all raised in the same home our own kitchens are so different. Alice makes full blown meals for company and her family, you know, roast beef, meat on a stick, lasagna, salad with too much dressing. Donna does the more English, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding boiled vegetables and lots of gravy, Barb is pasta first kinda gal. I on the other hand always like to start with a soup, pizza soup, or leek and mushroom. Yesterday at my mothers I made her Celery and Pear soup. It was quite good. She had a neighbor in to visit and her PSW and they both wanted the recipe, a sure measure of success. Today she will have bean and bacon, also a crowd pleaser. Mondays soup will be sweet potato and parsnip, Doris' recipe. That one she eats a little reluctantly, I think it might be a stronger flavor than she likes. Tough. My kids were not hearty eaters when they were young, so I always tried to slip some nutrition into the meal, you know, like shredded apple into your coleslaw, or mashed cauliflower with your potatoes. They always caught on, but so far my mother has not, so even though she says she can't eat and apple or and orange, she gets it some how. I find it an enjoyable challenge to do these things. Zucchini chocolate cake is a good one. I tried to slip her a glass of orange juice yesterday, she caught me. I'm not sure why she thinks she can't have orange juice, but she does. If she keeps this up we'll be playing the mystery fruit game. When Daniel was little he didn't like his fruits touching each other, like in a fruit salad. So we would put on a blind fold, usually a ninja turtle head band so you could be a ninja at the same time, and he would eat his fruit and try to guess what it was. Could you imagine me doing that with my mother and some authoritative figure coming into this scene and think what is going on? Well I'll reserve the ninja head band for more desperate times. I have only received one comment on favorite drinks, so tonight I may be indulging in a Lichee Martini. Cheers. (perhaps my readers are not drinkers, you liars you!)

The song/word of the day

I don't know how many of you are aware of this program on CFRB radio, but each morning, especially on Sunday I am awaken at 6:10 to listen for the song of the day. This has been going on for some months now, apparently my husband has been trying to win a trip, (so he doesn't have to pay for it). Well he will not be celebrating a second honeymoon if he continues this crap. Then at 9ish he continues to listen to the Bill Carol Show. I am so reluctant to tell you all of this in case you listen and catch the insanity. Being that Andy is hard of hearing he listens to all of this loudly, so you can't help but hear. Anyway, today the big discussion on the talk show was regarding a woman who's daughter is autistic, apparently she was reported to the Children's Aid Society on the insights of a psychic(not sure if that is spelled correctly). Well, you can imagine the comments at home I had to endure. And out came the Gypsy files. I've been hoeing out papers of no importance, sorting and get rid of unwanted pictures, books etc. So some of the Gypsy files have been reduced considerably. That's the activity for the day I suppose. I made him re chalk the shower yesterday, I believe we might be getting a new shower door.

Have we come to this. Has society become so afraid that on the insights of a psychic we torment parents. Who the heck hired that principal, and where are her brains, maybe she left them at the RAM. (You know the bar at the university) I hope this parent files a grievance with the Teachers College.

It made me think of my mother. You're probably sick of hearing about my mother. But, my mother use to read cards. I remember when I was a child of about 12, this family would come every once in awhile to have their cards read. Apparently my mother's insights help locate the one woman's child who was taken by her husband. My mother use to freak out if we had been playing fish with her cards, and there was usually only one deck in the house. She always claimed that she couldn't read cards that some one had lost or won on, and heaven forbid if we actually used pennies. She would never read our cards. I'm sure she told us how she learned to do this, I think it must have been from the gypsies in Siberia. She never ever would have allowed Andy to be persecuting them as he does, if she was aware of it. I'm starting to think we will have to add the income from 222TIPS to our taxes next year. Anyway here is my song of the day. It's a winner.

Happy Anniversary

Well as you've probably assumed June is a full month, we have Grads and Dads, birthdays and anniversaries. I know my sister Alice will call and say "What were you doing 29 years ago today? Well in the morning I'm sure I was assembling my hat and veil, and as I was having real forget me not's on the crown of it, I'm sure I was picking them in Mrs. Sagan's garden. Then of course was the hair, my friend Mary was so nervous, that her mother ended up doing my hair. We had a horse and buggy drive us to the church, the day was quite hot, so our friend Jerry Ostrowski was giving the carriage drivers beer, they were QUITE refreshed. We didn't expect people to come to the house, but there they were, tons of people. The driveway was packed. Andy the groom had had a late night,and a lot of refreshments, and arrived, by car, a little late. Alice and I were frying chicken wings, and making center pieces the day before so the house smelt of grease. So before the I do's we had quite an interesting morning. After the church we took pictures in front of the old Nugent House, my niece Jennifer, who was a flower girl, decided it was too hot to look cute in her dress, so she stripped and wanted to run through the sprinklers, which my mother had on to water her flowers. Priorities eh! We ran out of beer before dinner started. Oh what else can I say. When Andy carried me over the threshold, he ran into the door frame and I had a bruise on my arm the size of Montreal. So what was I doing? Obviously I was having a blast. And it's been that way for 29 years. So Happy Anniversary HONEY.
Photo of the house next door.
I'd like to play Happy Anniversary, by Charles Aznovar, but I can't seem to be able to figure out the download. Maybe next year. P.S. the tree on the left is the one under which we layed to watch Ruth go to church. (blog, lady in yellow dress)

Washi Summit

What is a Washi Summit you ask, well if you have read Leslie's blog you would know. Anyway, you know Leslie and I cannot stand it if we do not know how to do something. Sooooo we took a class with a lovely lady Barbara from Sweden who came to do some teaching and exhibiting of her work in Washi. While we were in this class there were three of us, (who spoke out loud) with aging/ailing parents. I know a dear friend of mine suggested strongly I read the book "The 36 hour Day". I bought it, and I believe I donated it to the book fair last year. I could not bring myself to read a book that I and my siblings are living through. I know probably all of you have gotten one of those emails telling of the elderly parent eating in the corner in a rugged bowl away from the family dining room table, and then the son/daughter of that parent wonders what his small child is doing, when he responds "I'm carving a bowl so you can eat with your hands in the corner when you are old daddy." It breaks our hearts when we read it, it breaks our hearts when we live it, but what to do. It sounds as though this family is still caring for their aged parent with in the circle of their own home. Some cultures have rules that they go by as to who gets the elderly parent. A more common way is to look to outside agencies to help us with this very demanding task. I can tell you that I see myself in my mothers situation all too soon. And the thing is we talk about it with our friends and co-Washi workshop participants and the story is the same all around. I don't think my siblings and I are selfish, I think we do the best we can. But what is too much. If anyone comes up with the answer please, please tell me. I do think that if it were not for Washi Summits and Memoranza's and Creative Needlework Conventions, one could go mad, thinking always that you were the only one going through these all too difficult decisions. But what decision to make? The agencies presently designated to assist families like mine with the aged parent are grossly underfunded and understaffed with individuals who lack the training or ability to deal with all that is placed before them. So are institutions the only solution? They too are not so readily accommodating. I personally hope I don't live long enough to have to put my children through these rings. It is quite a circus. I'll bet our elderly never knew the meaning of "The Golden Year". Some Golden Years. Let's hurry and find the fountain of youth, or at least another Washi Summit.

Lady in Yellow dress

When I read Leslie's blog today, I clicked on Carmi and saw all the buttons. The lady in yellow dress reminded me of Ruth. I don't know what her last name was, but in the summer my sisters and I would line on the front lawn of the Nugent house under those 200 year old pine trees and wait for Ruth to go to church. You can imagine how early we did this, since we then went to get dressed and went to church ourselves for 11 a.m. Even though my mother was a dressmaker we never got frilly dresses and everything was made so it could fit someone else when we grew. Ruth's mother obviously liked them, and Ruth wore them every Sunday. My favorite was the yellow one. Her hair would be all teased and everything. I always thought when I got so old that everyone would think I lost it I'd get myself one of those dresses and wear rumba panties with knee socks (another thing my mother did not do.) And lots of lace, and frills. Just like Baby Jane, from the movie. When we started to sew for ourselves we did some pretty things, but by then we were too old for frills and rumba panties and knee socks for that matter. We did make some pretty neat stuff though. My sister Donna had a really nice navy linen suit with a pink blouse and a "Virgin Pin" remember those. I only remember Alice making maternity pants, she was not a sewer. Although now that my mother is somewhat confused she gives Alice all her alterations. Barb was a great hemmer, she could do a hem like nobodies business (what ever that means). And Donna and Alice and Veronica had these pop tops that had three ruffles on the bottom, gingham if I remember correctly. I think I'm the only one that ended up sewing for a living. (Did I mention that I live in poverty). I have some lovely fabric though. I don't think my mother ever bought us any dresses everything was had sewn. I guess being a dressmaker it would be bad for business if your kids wore store bought clothes.To this day I have difficulty shopping for clothes. I have now set some criteria, I only sew wool, silk and linen and dress up clothing. As I don't go out much, I don't sew much. When I buy something I could have made, I hear my mother voice, "why couldn't you make that". If she only knew. All this talk of yellow dresses has made me think, I think I have a yellow dress started someplace. I know I must have fabric. Well I guess we know what I'm doing today. in the photo you'll see my mother made all our dresses, no frills, no knee sock. Donna, my cousin Kaz, Alice and Barb.