Hey! I'm Over Here!

Squee! Come visit me  today over at my bloggy pal Delores' place, Under the Porch Light, where I'm spilling my guts and Delores is passing Kleenex for nose-blowing purposes.

Did I mention that when I blow my nose it sounds exactly like those noisemakers on New Year's Eve?

Yeah ... Not proud of that. But I AM proud of hanging with Delores, so drop by, ok?

Oh, and bring coffee and doughnuts. Delores didn't have time to shop!

Delores - Letter from a Friend

Where did Delores come from? Other than the glint in her daddy's eye?

I'm thinking here.. she's been hanging out on the banks of the Muskoka River since practically forever, or maybe last year's April A to Z Blogfest, whatever came first. Argh – this is bugging me now. Hang on while I find out...

OK. Back. I just spent the last half an hour reading old blog posts from last April to find Delores' first comment and found myself laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of my doofussy damned door contest. Coincidentally, that's where I first had a comment from Delores: "Been browsing around your blog...love it. Thanks for dropping in on thefeatherednest."

There were TONS of other comments on that post (which makes me think I need to do another contest soon. Maybe I'll do a Damned Office Contest, as per Deanna Schrayer's suggestion) and Delores' was rather small and quiet and dignified, hardly standing out amongst the madding crowd. But you know what? Almost a year later, I rarely see some of those commenters, while Delores is a faithful and enthusiastic friend. Don't get me wrong – I'm definitely not criticizing other commenters. I know how things work. You drop by for a while, you have a nice visit, and then you're off to visit new friends or old friends or just different friends. There's not enough time in the day to visit every single blogger on your list every single day.

But Delores, she almost always drops by. I really appreciate that about her. Even when I have absolutely nothing funny, or interesting, or even cogent to say, she is there with a nice comment. (Oh please, Delores, don't feel obligated now.) Not that I'm the only blog she follows. FAR from it. Everywhere I go, Delores is there, spreading her cheerful self through the blogging world. Everyone loves her. Don't believe me? Check out one of her blogs – she gets more visitors than good-looking lifers at the penitentiary. 

Delores blogs at three places: The Feathered Nest, which has insightful personal commentary, some fabulous poetry and fiction, as well as all kinds of cool stuff. On Robbie Burns Day, for example, she had photos of Woodlawn Park Cemetery where the great granddaughter of the famous Scottish bard is buried. You never know what you're going to find in Delores' fine feathered nest.

The Tormented Scribe is a tad on the spooky side. The top photo is a cemetery and there's lots of dark-edged poetry and stories and things that go bump in the night.

Delores even has a blog full of poems and stories for children. It's called Youngish and she is currently running a limerick contest where the prize is a big box of crayons! I LOVE new boxes of crayons... I may have to enter this. How about:

There once was a girl named Delores

Who gargled with spearmint Lavoris

Her breath smelled so sweet

That she leapt to her feet

And eloped with a young stud named Boris.

Annnnnnd that's why I don't write poetry, folks! I'll leave that up to Mizz Delores.

Most of my bloggy friends live a long way away, some as far as Australia. Delores is actually one of the few people who live nearby – just a couple hours in the car, as a matter of fact, in a part of southern Ontario I used to know fairly well. It would be fun to pay her a visit some day, steal a cup of coffee or two, and see what she really looks like! As you can see from the photo she sent, and the lack of last name, my friend Delores is a woman of mystery. Maybe her letter will reveal a few of her secrets ...

Dear Cathy:

Here we are, half way through the first month of the New Year. It’ s a sobering thought isn’t it? How quickly time moves along. Christmas seems so long ago and so far away and yet experience tells us it will be here again long before we are ready.

The New Year stretches before us blank and exciting as an artist’s canvas waiting for that first splash of colour. How will we paint the New Year? Will we use the same old brushes, strokes and colours as last year or will we break free and try something new?

Looking back I can see there are some things I definitely want more of. Certainly I want more grandchildren time (if my body can handle it), more time holding a camera, looking at antiques and collectibles, writing poetry, watching the birds, prowling cemeteries, definitely more blogging..... Oh yes, there are things that bear repeating for sure. Some things, however, could go by the wayside. We have already taken some steps toward change for this year. One thing we have decided to cut way back on is eating out. Small changes to things that were not enhancing our lives will be made. This is our promise to each other. This year we will enlarge upon the things we know we love to do, discard the things that fail to make life better and keep ourselves open to new ideas, activities and people.

We have a few plans for refurbishing our nest this year (our feathered nest). Nothing too grandiose, just a few tweaks and improvements are required. A little paint, some trim, a new carpet will breathe life into the old house. We are blessed to have this roof , this shelter from the storms of life, over our heads.

I must say, Cathy, I have been impressed and encouraged with your success in weight loss this year. I am going to make an attempt myself. You have inspired me.

Anyway my dear, the day calls; the hectic, harried life of a retiree (lol). Important things need to be done; bathing, dressing, eating...you know the drill. It snowed last night and I want to take some pictures. Decisions need to be made about what to do with that lump of raw meat on the counter. I feel the faint flutter of a poem in the back of my mind; something about bed and rest and rise to the test, best, nest, dressed, stressed, oh well...I’ll think about it later.

I thought you might get a hoot out of this most recent photo of myself (self portrait by the artist lol). It is so typical. In most photos I am headless, or just a hand, or most likely behind the camera.


May you have a fulfilling New Year,

Bye for now,

Delores.

Squinty McGuinty

When I'm sitting here blogging? This is how I look.

"Aren't I attractive?" I ask Dave.

"No," sez Dave.

My one eye is SO BAD that I catch myself closing it tight, slamming it shut, anything to look at this damnably blurry computer screen. (You should see how big I've got it blown up. And I can only stand looking at it for a few minutes at a time.) Thirteen more days until my cataract surgery. 13 DAYS! I can hardly WAIT for that doctor to poke a hole in my eyeball with a scalpel, mash the lens around before he yanks it out, and stick the new bendable umbrella-ish lens through the hole. Then he'll stitch it up with a needle and thread. Like stuffing a Christmas goose. The idea of having stitches in my eyes is a little daunting but I am definitely looking forward to seeing again.

It's not that I can't see. I just can't see details. It's like looking through a window that's clouded up. Like, when you've been out at Make-out Hill necking in the back of your boyfriend's Buick and there's a knock on the window and you're not sure if it's a cop or a serial killer because you've steamed up the glass. Here, I found this image on the web that shows you what I mean:

(It's from Lighthouse International.)

Anyway, I'm getting sick and tired of squinting at everything. I was at the hairdresser's today, getting my eyebrows plucked because I sure as hell can't see them (I now wear make-up like 90-year-old ladies wear make-up, with blue shadow over half my face and lipstick smeared up my nose. I know. Disgusting). The hairdressing ladies were teasing me that after the surgery I'll know what Dave REALLY looks like. (God, I hope he's cute. Word to the wise: never marry someone BEFORE cataract surgery.)

I found out tonight, on Facebook, because everything I know about my family I learned on Facebook (pretty soon we won't need family reunions, we'll just set up a FB event and nuke our own hot dogs), that my cousin Karen just found out SHE has cataracts. And she's younger than me! Poor thing, she just had surgery for glaucoma (the eye disease I can never pronounce) and she went in for a post-op check-up and the doc says, "Your glaucoma is gone but keep an eye on those cataracts you got going." Talk about not winning for losing! Hey Karen - I'll loan ya my white cane when I'm done with it! And then we'll go and beat up on our mothers for handing us down the blind gene!

Speaking of mothers, I had lunch with mine today. She paid, which was AWESOME. We went to the hairdresser's. Mom got herself a fancy new do and she looks like a million bucks. Seeing as how I'm usually at work when my Mom is gallivanting, this was a real treat. We had coffee and gossiped and chatted and ate and gossiped and, you know, it was just fabulous! Thanks Mom!

On a different note, I'm pretty stoked about how Letters from a Friend is going. Hope you're liking it, too. I love how every letter is different. I love all your comments. Some of them make me laugh. Some cry. All of 'em make me squint. Oh, didn't you love Jamie Woodman's handcrafted letter? She is SO talented. Me and her and Dave and Donna Brohm had a helluva good time having coffee at her house on Monday. Nothing better than seeing old friends. I got there and announced, truthfully, "You guys haven't changed a bit! You look amazing!" And they were, like, "Says the blind girl." Yeah. Well. I bet they looked fetching. They always did. Likely always will.

I've got lots more letters coming up. Tomorrow I'll be posting a letter from Delores of The Feathered Nest fame. She is one of my most faithful blog readers – I've gotta give her credit for that. Even when I post the worst shite, she is there to cheer me on. Delores is also one of the most prolific bloggers I've come across – she posts like a zillion times every day. OK, so maybe not a zillion, but ALMOST. (Gotta stop writing about her now so I have lots to discuss tomorrow.)

I've got letters from some of my very favourite blogger friends. You won't want to miss them, I swear.

One more thing: we went cross-country skiing on Sunday. There's a spot around the corner from us where you can ski-for-free. It was gorgeous and we had an awesome time. I am NOT a great skier anymore, since I got old and fat and all, but I used to be, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. I was feeling brave until I went down the first hill, yelling, "SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" all the way.

Next hill, I took off the damned skis and walked.

I may be blind but I'm not stupid.

Remind me to buy Sam some snow pants.