"Pain in the Arse"

                                                   “Pain in the arse?"…..irritated over something not going as planned? ….being rubbed the wrong way? Just a few of the things that come to mind when I hear that expression. Minor annoyances for sure.

I have no recollection of any sustained injury to my “undercarriage.” A name once referred to that particular area of my anatomy by a dear doctor friend of mine. An area that we commonly call “our private parts. Over the past several months sitting on soft cushions has become just as uncomfortable as sitting on hard surfaces. Now that’s a real “pain in the arse”.

On the bright side (also known as the area where the sun does shine!) I can stand. Albeit, that causes swelling in my ankles. A sight I once thought was only a condition of the elderly.
So with my eye sight not as clear as it once was and a few of my body parts altered or missing, I am thankful for my heightened sense of smell. Except when the winds of human exhaustion blow my way. My earring, I consider to be still pretty keen. Unless, it’s when my husband mumbles. My taste buds though, seem to be intact as I am slightly overweight. And last but not least, my sense of touch seems to be grabbing top billing as most days the “arse seems to be fallin’ right out of ‘er”

So to this “end” I await the outcome of a scheduled bone scan at a well known medical facility where sitting and waiting goes without saying.

Peter Cottontail

Peter Cottontail takes me down many a wrong trail…………..

In this age of wireless and cellular technology, I‘ll admit I am an addict. My personal computer has opened up a whole new world for me. A world of discovery, intrigue, challenge, and yes, some accomplishment.

However, as of late my PC has taken me to a whole new level. That of Progressive Confusion!

I’d like to blame it on my computer, but truthfully, I think my brain cells are being hacked.

The more literate I try to become the more illiterate I get. I’ll download a new upgrade only to discover that what was working was better than what doesn’t want to work for me now. grrrrrr

Why do I keep changing particular programs that work just fine to explore other options? Will I ever learn that if I want to accomplish anything I need to leave things the way they were. Confused?

Welcome to my world!

Exfoliate = Sandblast

                                                                   Exfoliate = Sandblast                                                           


Never in my 50 something years have I ever exfoliated a part of my body. That is until today. When it comes to removing unwanted body hair I am definitely one who likes to have all the gain without any of the PAIN. I don’t know why I bother, it’s not like I have the legs of a young model. Dresses and skirts have no place in my closet. Probably because there’s no room. And as for shorts or Capri’s - well, two weeks of summer hardly warrants space in my closet either. Jeans, dress slacks, and sweaters pretty much define my dress code, along with my wide collection of scarves.

Some time ago while browsing in one of those famous dollar stores I spotted an item which definitely appealed to my sensitive nature. The picture on the package illustrated a small pink attachment slipped on over the three middle fingers of a lady’s hand which was placed on her leg. The wording on the package promoted “Smooth Skin”, “Natural Hair Removal” with no pain - no razor burn - all natural.

Well, just the thing for me. It looked so simple. And what the heck for a trial run it was only two bucks!

Although, my floor resembled that of a dry wall contractor’s after a day of sanding. I will admit that my legs feel smoother than they have in over 50 years.

But as for the ….“no pain” well, how’s a person suppose to know how many layers to remove. First clue Smurt!!!! ( hurt with a vengence). Second clue….blood oozing through the skin.

Point taken ,,,,”no Pain, no Gain”. I am smarter now, than I was this morning.

Absolutely Nuts!

An attempted break and enter intruder into our home two nights in a row! What nerve!

My significant other and I were all settled in for our usual night of restless slumber. Well as least that's his routine. Myself on the other hand, well I never use to be a light sleeper. Although, at this point my beauty sleep may be at risk.

Funny thing is that first night we were both asleep when an unusual noise awaened me. Not wanting to panic, I quickly ribbed my heavy breathing companion (he insists he doesn't snore) alerting him to the fact that I'd heard something.

 "Uhhh?" came a sheepish reply.

"Something is trying to get in." I whisperd. He wasn't at all impressed at being awakened, especially with morning obviously nowhere in sight. "What are ya talking about?" he continued, a bit on the grumpy side. So as not to spook the intruder which sounded very close to my corner of the bedroom, I whispered "listen!"
Putting his feet over his side of the bed he crept around to mine. Sure enough an intruder was trying to gain entry into our apparent comfortable lodging. The scratching noise was a dead give-away.

Bang! Thump! My strong brave husband took control of the situation in a flash. He took a firm stand or should I say stomp as his bare foot came to at-tent-ion!

Silence.

I could visualize a huge rat gnawing through the wall. Oh yes, my mind spoke openly. Or a squirrel came hubby's response.

He seemed rather confident that whatever it was it was gone for now, adding that he would check into it further in the morning.

Needless to say sleep for me didn't come as quickly the second time around as it did the first. Eventually though, sleep did come.

A daylight investigation uncovered teeth marks on the vinyl siding underneath the back deck near the corner of our house just outside our bedroom and several tunnels in freshly aquired snow. The culprit is still at large.

Well, second night? Same rodent time (around midnight), same rodent channel (our bedroom). Persistent? Definitely! That is until, once again, it was  interrupted and scared off by same brave defender. Night three has already arrived and I will admit I will be listening very attentively. As the hour draws near to do our usual security check before lights out, I can't help but wonder, how persistant is this intruder?

Could this be our attempted break and enter? I took this shot a few months ago. He obviously seems interested in the temperature and it is a whole lot colder now and especially at night.

Threads of Time

"Oh for Pete sake!" Now will ya look at us? Who the heck did we think we were all dressed in our Sunday best? That dress went all the way to the floor. Back in the day, this is kinda what we wore to fancy toimes! We socialized and went to clubs, and yes, we even danced! Imagined that now will ya! Seems we might have become a wee bit reserved and a whole lot stiffer over the years. But alas, the good news is we haven't completely seized up.

I'm quite certain though, back then we didn't have any clue has to where the road of life would take us. Memory is still serving me right, yet, (well in most cases anyway) and while we were smiling for future posterity any talk of nuptials were not even on the table.

Some time ago, my then and now, significant other decided to share this photo with the world, well Facebook anyways. But come to think of it that is a big part of our world now-a-days. It seems most of us center our day around it, or Twitter or some such. I admit it is the' Tool to a quick update of family and friends. And I'd be lying to ya if I said the computer hasn't become a useful and playful tool in my life.
Yup! those are defining days. But ah! so were the days of yore.

Yes indeed, the reason behind the getup we are wearing in the photo is "wasn't that a party?"!

August 1972, a celebration of a job well done, by proud owner, Reg Stanford, over his new 52 ft longliner built at Henry Vokey and Son's Shipyard, Trinity. I vaguely remember the details of the whole night, but suffice it to say, " a good time was had by all in attendance!"

So rich in history is this now well known "Historic town of Trinity." My father and his thriving business during the 1960's, 70's and 80's has no doubt become a part of the towns history. Sadly, like so many other businesses this applied trade gave way to the changing of times and has become yet another treasure of reflection in the charting of our heritage. Much more could be said.

However, we cannot close nor publish the book on the history of this particular industry. Not when it applies to masterboatbuilder Henry Vokey. Not just yet, as it is still being written. At age 82 my father is still applying his passionate trade to the "Vokey" boat and turning out model size crafts in his spare time. But the story can't end here either, as he is hoping to launch his latest creation in the summer of 2012.
What a creation she is becoming - 43 feet of sheer delight from stern to bowsprit! She has captured the interest of folk far beyond the shoreline of these here parts.
Well, I began with a picture, a point in time and and a bit of a stroll down memory lane. Now I will leave you with hopefully an appetite to stay tuned.

When old becomes new again

When the old becomes new again....................

The changes we go through in our lives are not always painful. Sometimes they are a bit challenging yet a whole lot of fun. Just as we discovered with the undertaking of this project of a new home which we enthusiastically began to tackle in February of 2011. That's not to say that there weren't moments of reflection and sadness. 

This old building holds more than just nails, board and a layers of paint. The foundation of this very structure is cemented together with lots of labour, devotion, love, community service and bushels of memories.

This structure built in the early 1950's has served as a family dwelling for two generaions of the Trouty Johnsons and a successful business outlet for three generations of entrepreneurs spanning more than six decades. Johnson's General Store's first owner, known to all her customers as Aunt Mary, was a respected member of this community and the outlying areas. Daughter-in-law Rowena, known to her friends and customers as "Rowie", carried on through the late 60's, 70's, 80's and into the early 90's. Her son Glenn followed in his mother's and grandmother's footsteps until the early milenium.

Grasping at straws to hold onto a piece of history and family tradition Glenn's older brother Hedley, my other half, decided to try and keep the building operational and the community service available. However, changes were evident and the end was near for the business that served so well for so long. 

 On Dec. 31, 2006 Johnson's General Store saw the end of an era for the long time retail business. 

But alas! The timing (despite hurricane Igor, which could become another read), the fruits of our labour as owner / operators of Trinity Bake Shop Ltd for nearly 20 years, a workable vision, we are now experiencing and enjoying the old turned new!

                                          The Makeover!!!!!!!

            .....................to third generation family dwelling .......lovin' it!!!!!!!!

                           What would they think if they, (deceased loved ones) could see the old homestead now? 

One of those days

I think it fair to say that today I have 'the mind of a squid'. Yup! I cannot seem to focus or content myself with one direction only. And so, I accomplish p### all.

I want to finish making my homemade tree ornaments, get my Christmas cards ready for the mail, wrap the few presents I have bought, do the laundry, fix something for supper, sit still and hug and kiss my little man (simply because he is growing way too fast), and yet, here I am pouring my thoughts and frustrations out there.
What does that say about who I am? Confused comes to mind. Out of touch with the true meaning for this Christmas season?
Maybe I am both confused and out of touch. The question is not so much, how do I tune in, but why can't I? If only I could clear my head of all the negative thoughts that seems to be floating around up there.

I tell others, and myself, that I'm fine. I'm moving ahead since Igor. Am I really? I go to the basement to do the laundry and the open empty space smacks reality to what was once a full apartment. I go to retrieve decorations that were lovingly stored, in my basement, while awaiting this very occassion and oh no that's gone too. I want to pick up the phone and just chat with my mom and see what she is up to, sadly that cannot happen either since she bid us farewell almost eleven months ago. I truly miss her.

I had a mistrust that with mom gone this Christmas it would be difficult, but Igor did nothing to help when it took some of the very keepsakes that were gifts from her over the years. I try to reason with myself and remind myself that she will always be in my heart; and things are only things; and that the true meaning of this season has nothing to do with my mom or material possessions.

But in a way it does. It is after all about love. And to lose someone and something that is very dear to me,......well, it is upsetting.

So I guess, if nothing else, I am learning that life does go on, and to mourn a loss is suppose to be a form of healing. Christmas may just have to be a bit different this year, but I'm sure that will not be the end of the world either.