The Italian and French and their lovely laundry

I love my laundry line.  It broke about 3 weeks ago, and today was its first day back up and running.  I was very happy to see my laundry obediently hanging in the sun…I think that you either like a laundry line or you don’t….although maybe it is genetically encoded.  One thing for sure is that we privileged enough to live in north america, can choose whether to hang our clothes to dry or not.  Anyone who has travelled overseas knows that electricity rates are steep compared to ours; thereby necessitating extremely efficient appliances, and fostering an understanding that each citizen has a personal responsibility to use electricity wisely.

The first time I saw laundry lines stretching across one building to another, in Italy, I was bemused and appreciative.  In fact, some apartments shared lines that ran across streets, not just alleys.  Laundry lines appear to be extensions of community interaction. One woman pulling her laundry in, the other putting her laundry out.  A mutual awareness of the need to take turns, wave hello and share some gossip…although, admittedly, I never understood what was being called out.  It seemed juicy and festive in Italian and somewhat annoyed or insistent in French!

Then I found myself appraising the various undergarments.  Some flats exhibited brashly their collection of beautiful bras, thongs, and briefs; while others simply hung out the faded boxers and stretched polyester granny panties.  I loved it all.  Unabashedly, they were hung row upon row, high end next to low end.  The former telling the world they have it all going on!, while the latter says I’m a little too tired to make the effort..



I think that we should seriously consider using laundry lines for many reasons: it is great for the environment, it makes our clothes smell fresh, but most importantly it will remind us to always have nice looking undergarments….you never know where that will lead you;)..just sayin’:)  Happy Saturday!




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new kid in town)

Today was quite a day.  My beloved, Patrick, has talked of having a horse of his own ever since moving to our farm last year.  I was skeptical about this because he has been in the saddle twice…but who am I to deny the man that supports me in this fine life, to which I have become accustomed?:)

I did not want another horse this year.  It is a lot of work maintaining two horses and to add one more was not appealing.  However, referring back to the fact that Pat is my sugar daddy, I recognized that perhaps I could send some sugar his way;)   Pat spent a couple of months on the internet researching horses for sale and after a false start, we found Dakota an 8 year old Palomino gelding.

Dakota is of the same breed as Mr.Ed and Trigger…0’k if you are under 40 you won’t get that reference…so just stay with me!  We thought that with any luck Dakota will be as genial and smart as his two famous predecessors.   Maybe a new kind of reality show?

We loaded Dakota on the trailer and he was nervous, the poor guy was leaving his herd of 8 years.  An uneventful unloading and walk to the pasture allayed our fears that he would not settle.  He was thrilled to find so much fresh grass.  My other two horses, looked up and said “what the?”…then went back to eating….which is what they do best!

After a few hours in the grass,  and a meet and greet by the water trough, we brought all 3 horses in for the night.  I felt like I had just brought home a new baby, and hoped that the other two children wouldn’t poke the baby in the eye!   Ah well, it is what it is.  I think that Redford may be a bit jealous of the new kid in town, and Bella is happy to see a new kid in town!  

They all seem to be standing taller, more alert with tails high.  Is it just me, or do we do that too when introduced to new people?

time out! children and parents

I remember when Emily was wee, that “time-outs” were discussed and encouraged by child-rearing guru’s for children that misbehaved.  For Emily, that meant sitting on the bottom step in our Victorian home.  I admit that there were few times for her to have a “time-out” because, as the only child, there were fewer opportunities to get into trouble in the first place!  When it did occur, she was indignant to be chastised in such a manner…apparently well below her station!….however, when that passed, she became quiet…then very happy!  This would undoubtedly translate to singing and laughing!…

The most entertaining for Pat and I would be those times when Emily and her cousin Anna would require a time-out.  (o’k, they are 7 here!)  One would be placed upon the first step and the other on a stool nearby.  Invariably, the event evoked tears initially, but then, as if a switch was flipped, the two of them would look at each other, make faces, then bust out laughing! ….then plead for us to let them go back to play time!  They were so little, maybe 3 at the time.

For the past two days the weather has been unsettled.  We had rain, and windy conditions.  Since the explosion, I tend to become nervous with dark clouds and wind.  Not surprisingly, I woke to a regular occurance…migraine….ugh!  When this happens, I try to stay in bed and put ice on my head, and with any luck go back to sleep. My dearest and beloved husband thought that it would be fun to take a picture of me with both migraine and sinus infection!

I may as well show you my hairy chin while I am at it!

When I arose for the day, my headache had waned, but I carried the unwanted anxiety.  I know now….3 years after the accident, to take a time out.  I have my meditation pillow in my bedroom which I am pulled to like a child to their blanky in pre-school.

It is here, that I give myself permission to pause.  In the pause there is silence and freedom of breath.  No anxieties, no insecurities or worries.  In time I open my eyes to the wonder of yet another day.

there is nothing wrong with this picture!

My father-in-law use to come home from the office in an expensive suit and commence gardening….yes, his towering 6’5″ frame cut short as he balances on his hands and knees pulling weeds, or planting flowers; whatever he happened to notice required immediate! attention before he was safely inside the house.  Not surprisingly, his ever patient wife, my mother-in-law, would express mild irritation for the transgression;)  Those of us who were lucky enough to witness these acts of reckless abandon would laugh because it seemed so preposterous that one would not take a moment to change out of your good clothes….

I wish that I had a picture of Dan Murphy, but I found this picture posted on a great blog!  Check out http://cashmerejeans.blogspot.com  only after you have read mine😉

Well, I hate to admit that I am following in this grand dames strappy footsteps as well as my father-in-laws giant gaping stride ….the scene of my crime would be my horse barn and  I can be found in various forms of dress doing chores.  I have been seen to be providing morning feed in my pajamas, but assuredly, the afternoon routine would seem to offer the most enjoyment for the casual observer.  The “secret video footage”  might include a bikini, silk pajamas and bathrobe(hey, if I have had a big day of migraines I am allowed to wear pajamas all day!), or like today, a nice dress.  All or any options would not be complete without my rubber boots!  I wouldn’t think of getting my good shoes mucked up, I have standards you know.


While some might think this behaviour somewhat peculiar when looking at the following picture,…I  think that if you look closer, give it more thought, you might agree with me that the only thing wrong with this picture is that I need nicer boots to wear in the barn!  Just sayin’  Long live our eccentricities!


party crasher needed the boot!

It was Pat’s birthday party again on Saturday night.  This was his fourth party to celebrate his 50th birthday; starting to feel like a royalty…except I was doing the hosting;) 

It was mainly a family gathering except for two party crashers.  One fellow made himself endearing to all the others, and helped the hostess (me!)….the other fellow, arrived as if with entourage, endeared himself to no-one, and helped to dis the host/hostess(still me!).

The aforementioned rude boy, asked for a house tour, and upon seeing our dressing room, was shocked at the size (small), and quantity of clothes(also small)…

I took a deep breath, looked beyond the insults…(upon deeper inspection of my closet…said aghast “where are all your clothes?”, “surely you just did a major cull?”, …wait, it gets better!

Looking at my husbands clothes he said”my partner has three walls of clothes; where are Patricks shoes?!”…even though shoes were evident.  Oh and “those shoes are terrible…all hype” “my shoes are way better”…Come on, really??!!! who says that crap as an adult? It was an eye opener into the world of pretense and posturing which I have no desire to be a part of, and thankfully none of our friends frequent.

I wondered how it is that some people think that  A. they would be a welcome guest, when uninvited and B. don’t realize that there are soooo many people in the world with more money, power and position who also have more tact, and social skills.

Pat and I had a blast at all of his parties, but this last one did not end on a high note.  We both did our best to make the uninvited guests feel welcome; but wondered why we gave the one lout the time of day.

Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even if you wish they were.

Good luck people!

a dogs nose knows, but does ours?

How is it that a dog can sense things like going to the vet?  For the first 4 years of Cally’s life he went to the same vet….begrudgingly…I had to bribe him every step of the way to get him through the doors.  I often wondered what it was that created so much stress for him, when the vet and assistants were so good.  What sort of trauma occurred for him to become increasingly agitated with the vet?  Then it dawned on me!  His Manhood was taken away!    Does he remember this?   It begs the question(no that pun was not intended):  do human beings remember on a cellular level or through deep memory our own hurts or operations when young,if a dog seemingly does?

The debate against circumcision has long included the argument that the newborns remember the event.  None of the men I have asked(and I have asked!), remember the event.  Perhaps they are suppressing it.  Perhaps those that started off in life experiencing great pain, through evolutionary protective reactions, are able to categorize this as a one time event, and then move on…..I digress.

My dog, was not willing to give up his fear of that particular vet.  We changed vets, when one day Cally absolutely refused to enter the building.  On to a different doctor, and life has been all smiles and treats for Cally…or so we were told…today….by the vet…  He had his annual check-up and apparently he has been smiling a lot lately because he is getting fat.  I have to admit, it was a bit embarrassing.  A light interrogation revealed that we were feeding him too much dog food.  Hhhhmmmm, and I thought that it was all the horse sh*t he was eating.  drats!

We were sent home with a “meal-time toy” which releases the food slower for the fast gulping canine at my feet.  Secondly, his food was changed to the fat dog formula.  I wonder now, if Cally knows that his feed has been changed to smaller servings and lower caloric content.  Will he hold this against me and the vet?  Will this now be his newest trauma?  My human parents are mean!  They give me less food (than I want)! and make me work to get it!

Parents of dogs or children; its all the same…make the tough choices and live with it, even when you are ignored.

a change in the optics

A bit of a crazy day today…we were in Toronto, Pat on business and then picking Emily up from the train!

We were late getting out of the city, getting home, bringing the horses in, and making dinner..

After dinner, we fall into the regular pattern of clean-up…
then I lose Pat….
then I lose Emily……

Downstairs, I hear the beauty of a daughter singing with her father accompanying on guitar….

Her voice stronger, more assured; maybe just me but….

I walk back upstairs, see the laundry room…

I see the dishes to be put away…

Somehow, the ordinary is extraordinary.  Children do that to you…or, any time your heart is full and your feet light.   Happy Wednesday:)