Archive for November, 2013

I love it, when a plan comes together

November 19, 2013

I especially “love it” when there’s no plan but it ends up looking like one…Here’s a Christmas story.

CIRCA 1980:

My friend Pauline gave me a box of outdoor Christmas lights. They were the old fashioned, huge, multi-coloured, much used lights, and I wasn’t having them anywhere near the house in case they caught fire. However, (I always have a “however” in my life)  I wanted to put them up somewhere outside.

The perfect candidate, was a small  pine tree on the far left of the yard near the BBQ which had a source of electricity. My husband strung the lights, against his better judgment…sure that they would burn the tree down, or at least cost a fortune in power (which they did).

Snow fell all around it,  dabbled the branches in white and the coloured lights burned through the snow. It was quite a sight. Friends called to tell me that they loved the little tree “in the forest”. From the road, it was odd and alone in the dark.

The following summer, I found it’s real purpose. My neighbor, a 80-ish lady living alone, told me how delighted she was to look out her kitchen window and see that beautiful little Christmas tree sparkling in the darkness.

Needless to say, year after year, we were happy to dig out those lights and recreate the scene, just for her.

A political commentary

November 13, 2013

When I was about five years old,  I got a beautiful sweater for Christmas. That was a bit odd because we didn’t get clothes for Christmas, back then…only panties and hankies.

It was mauve, my mom’s favourite colour for me to wear and it was itchy, very, very itchy. Nevertheless, I wore it often because it was beautiful and I loved it.

One day, I discovered a piece of wool sticking out, so I tugged on it, and broke it off. After the next washing I noticed there was a small hole, but it was on the back where I couldn’t see it, and so I wore it because it was so beautiful AND I LOVED IT. In time there was another piece of wool poking through and I pulled on it. Before my eyes, strand after strand of wool unraveled and I couldn’t stop pulling and picking. It was fascinating- so orderly. Finally there was a big hole and I had a pile of ugly, curly wool that my mom said could possibly be made into a scarf. I was inconsolable.

I hadn’t meant to do that. I had destroyed the “fabric” of a favourite, beautiful thing.

I had forgotten about this kid story until today when I find myself similarly distressed, watching the PQ government picking and pulling at the beautiful fabric of our Province.

January 2017

We seem to be forever embroiled in controversy in this Province. This time, it’s our young Prime Minister causing a ruckus over language, and even though I’ve been supportive of him…this is “the straw”. There are far more important things to settle and correct in Quebec and in the world.  I don’t LOVE IT here anymore but I do love my friends and family, so I wouldn’t leave.