Valentine's Day........

is not quite the same when you are alone. Sure, there are hearts hanging around the house, but there is no-one there, so it is purely for my own delight. And they make me smile. Actually, it is only in recent years that Valentine's Day has become a relatively big thing here. We are certainly nowhere near as good at it as the US is, I have to say. It has never been a major event on our calendar. A card maybe. But now it all looks a lot different, especially in the stores. I just think especially of those who are alone, and as each year the hearts and flowers and associated paraphernalia come out earlier and earlier, I worry about their loneliness. Their alone-ness. The world seems to be made for couples today.

It has been a lovely day, nonetheless. A little unexpected retail therapy at a cheapy shop or two, and a cupcake of joy for dessert. Not to mention a beautiful sunset. The sky was aglow with golden light, tinged with scarlet and cerise, and it was just breathtaking. The promise of a fine morning yet to come. According to old tradition, of course.

We will see what morning brings.

I may or may not have walked a little more than is wise today. I may or may not be creaking. I may or may not be observing the morning from the couch. But, to have some fun and to enjoy time out with friends having mini "adventures", it is worth paying the price. Now and then.

It is all about choices, isn't it? Every day is made up of so many choices, and yet with every one of them comes consequences too, of course. We choose, and our choices set a train of events in motion. And then we deal with what comes next. Further choices. Crossroads. Decisions.

Wouldn't it be lovely to just drift with the wind now and then and be carried to wherever the wind blew? Just float. No decisions. No nothing.

I am putting myself to sleep here. Floating. Wafting. Drifting.

I need coffee. And chocolate!

Have a very happy rest of Valentine's Day, people!!

Daughters.......

I am beginning to dream of Spring, and the garden. It is all those green shoots popping up bravely out of the snow and ice which fuel the dream. The sight of life in what was a barren wasteland is always amazing. How do they survive? An annual miracle. And a reminder of circles and also of hope and faith.

I know what I am talking about.

Today is my daughter's birthday. It seems just yesterday that I wrote about her last birthday here. A whole year ago? How did that happen?  I am happy to report that I skyped with a girl with a happy smiling face (complete with new bag and scarf) (from her friends) (because I am a dreadful mother and her present is yet to be posted) (bought) and she was all set to have a lovely day. And now her birthday is over in NZ but here it is still in full swing.

Funny how that makes a difference to me. It is her birthday while it is the 13th. Last night, the entire family was queued up to skype with her, and that was fun, trying to get us all in line in different places. And the delight was listening to her phone and computer constantly beeping with messages throughout the skype chat too. And seeing her grin.

She is loved. She knows she is loved.

So she bounced out the door on a lovely summer's day to celebrate another year of her life. Make that LIFE. Diana lives life to the full and at a hectic pace too. All that mattered to me, though was that smiling face and the happy girl. In the last year she has acquired another qualification, logged thousands of miles on flights around the country for Soul Survivor, explored the South Island and juggled a multitude of jobs and friends and church and kayaks and goddaughters and creativity and ........ this is my daughter.

Happy Birthday, sweetie - I love you loads and loads.
MDS xxx

Sisters, stage props and sundry other things......

Well, that was fun, wasn't it. Age and expressions and THEN I was skyping with my sister and she said, get this...."that horrible first photo is EXACTLY what I see, and in fact you look worse, because you frown at the same time." Great. Who said sisters were a good idea. I am off mine at the moment (till tomorrow). Sulking is good at times. Like now. In reality, I had hysterics. And spent the rest of the skype call with a cheesy grin. I don't do sulking - it is a complete waste of time.

Especially when I suspected she was right and that is dreadful. DREADFUL. So I have spent the day grinning. I am practicing, people. Practice makes perfect, as my mother used to say. The world at large will think I have lost my mind. Actually, only the sewing machine saw me this morning because a friend of mine is in a play soon, and needed a prop made. Bandaged hands. No problem. I can do bandaged hands, I said.

I had lost my mind yet again.

So there I was with chopped off gloves on MY hands, winding bandages around one hand at a time, pinning and hand sewing it in place until I had giant cream paws which held their shape. It got a little interesting when I had to wind the bandage round my right hand, and pin it with the left hand, and then remove the glove and put it on the left hand and sew it with the right hand. These paws cannot be allowed to unravel at a crucial moment on stage, you see. So they are very well stitched down. Thankfully, the actor is pleased. Frankly, I have no idea what else I could have done. They do look realistic, and now he is going to splatter them with gore, I gather. I will take a photo when they are suitably red. (They already contain traces of my DNA after sewing them in place while wearing them.)

And I will add bandaged hands to my CV.

So do you want to know that the linen is clean? The clothes are washed? The dishes are clean? The beds are made? The daffodils are open in the vases in the lounge? Yep. I am feeling virtuous.  It is a good feeling. The snow and ice remains on the ground, and last night was apparently the coldest of the year -12C, I think. It was cold. I find it very difficult to leap out of bed with any enthusiasm on cold, cold days. I use the word leap but you will know I mean crawl. Leap sounds better. Inching one's way out from under the covers makes me sound even older than I looked in yesterday's post. In my mind, I leap and bound, and pirouette through life.

Sigh.

The mind is a wonderful thing. I can do and be anything I feel like in my mind. Just picture me in a tutu.

Maybe not.

In which we discuss the ravages of time.......

This will also be called The Reason Why It Is Imperative That We Smile All The Time. 

Do you all have the same rules for documents that we do? You may not smile at all. Serious expression is required for all passport and driver's licence photos. Just peachy. So I look 25 years older in my passport photo. Why are we not allowed to have even a faint grin? I have a theory about it making us all insecure at border posts, you see, so the intimidating border control officer scrutinises the photo over and over and the more you try to smile faintly (or grin cheesily) the less you look like the dreadful photo he is looking at. 

And have you recently met a border contol officer who smiles in any way at all?? I say recently, because there was a time when they were not all 12, and they had learned that it is much easier to disarm with charm (and catch any illegal alien or smuggler off guard) and also, be welcoming to the country you were entering. It would be so nice to be grinned at and have someone say "Welcome home!" now and then. Or have someone smile and tell me to enjoy my stay in their country. 

Sigh.

Things are not what they used to be. 

And speaking of not what they used to be, I have been discussing the ravages of time with my friends. There have been a series of unposed photos of me in recent months. (Yes, David, I am talking about you!) I look too dreadful for words when I am not grinning like a Cheshire cat for the camera, with the head tilted at the right angle to avoid jowls, the camera far away enough to lose any lines, and so help me, the camera has to ALWAYS be higher, and NEVER lower than me. That means never ever let anyone take a photo of you while you are sitting in a chair and they are on the floor. Disaster. 

If I am concentrating on something, reading, thinking, whatever, and not grinning, my cheeks are heavy, my mouth is smaller and the lines around my mouth are deeper and arrow downward, making me look like a miserable old woman who it would be best to avoid. At all costs. There are lines everywhere as I try to focus through the specs and that makes things even worse, if that were remotely possible. Trying to see properly makes me frown as I screw up the eyes and they get even smaller and we DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT WORSE. Intimidating? Probably. Definitely. Mind you, this face should be ok for court perhaps. 

Shudder.

 Maybe not. 

I don't think I would want to get to know this person. 

Serious and unsmiling

 There are lines around the eyes, but you can't see them here. I just hope I don't look like this all the time. It horrifies me and makes me want to call the 10 Years Younger team to arrange immediate plastic surgery. Or I could arrange for someone to gather up all the skin on the face and yank it up a bit and tie it on top of the head with a bow. Then I could develop a new line in Marge Simpson hair styles to hide the excess skin. 

Anyway. Just look what a faint smile does to the image. (And admit, people that I am amazingly brave to put these photos here today.) Yes, the cheeks get wider. And the eyes get a little smaller....did I mention that the eyelids seem to be heading south like the rest of me???? But I think I may want to talk to this person. This is how I think our passport photos should be. Sort of. 

Faint grin

 And then, this, you see is how I think of myself. Only, I suspect that the first photo is more like the way the world sees me. If I grin at the passport officer, this is what I would look like. No wonder the man stands and stares at the photo so long. We all look so totally miserable. 

There was a time when the skin was taut(er) and far more elastic, and the lines were never there, and the eyes were wider and brighter and not hidden by the drooping eyelids. The bags under the eyes (which I have just seen in this photo below, to my utter horror) did not exist. And can you believe that I never realised eyes were probably different sizes until just recently? Mind you, I have never spent hours peering into the mirror, or I may have noticed it before. Apparently this is absolutely normal. Yes, you may now rush to the mirror and check. Smile and see what happens to the size of the eyes, and then do NOT come back and tell me yours are identical sizes or I may wail, and then my bags under the eyes will get bigger and the eyes more puffy and......... 

And the cheeks were not so baggy either....I could go on and on, but I am depressing myself. Groan. Time???? It marches on. 

Grinning

Smiling exercises the cheek muscles. I - WE - need to smile more. All the time. I can just see the cheesy grins right now. Baring the teeth like Missy does when told to smile for the camera. Yes, go on, practice right now. I am, as I speak. 

It is quite obvious that we should have read the small print about aging. You want to know what you look like when you are concentrating on something? That could be on a book, sewing, working, reading, anything. Well, get a random child, husband, friend to snap a few unposed photos. And for heaven's sake, do not peer upward through the specs to see  anything. You will look like an elderly cockerel. Or maybe that is just me. Poke those glasses back to the proper place on your nose. Mine slip down. Yes, I know I need new ones too, but that can wait. I do not need to discover that the situation of the aging Linds is actually far worse through new-proper-prescription-glasses. It is bad enough as it is. 

Let me be clear here, I am not in pursuit of my youth. I am just in pursuit of something to stop the sagging. The lines come from living. So do the grey hairs. 57 years of life leave their mark, as do all the things we experience along the way and they are badges of honour. The medals, if you like. I used to think about that of stretch marks. If I got to 57 with no visible altering of appearance, I might start to believe I was a doll. Time cannot be halted. 

But then, if you had a driver's licence photo which made you look like a warder from Belsen, you may also despair. 

Oh help

 Thank heaven my photo for my Swiss rail card can be used for 10 years. It makes me grin every time I haul it out. 

This will do nicely thankyouverymuch

The moral of the story is simple. 

Smile. 

Smile through everything. No matter what life throws at you, smile. It will draw people to you, it will lift your spirits. It will make a huge difference in your attitude. It may make other people happy too. It will start the process of recognising joy. 

It will also exercise those cheeks and hopefully stop the sagging process.

Trying to reverse the process at my age will require a major miracle.  

Snow, ice and good intentions .......

I can't find my spade, and did I buy one of the fancy but cheap snow shovels at Costco when I was there?? No. Of course not.  Unlike every other person in the building. So, this morning, as there is thick fog and the snow has iced over totally because the temps are still below 0C, I was out there with my dustpan.

Yes, you read that right.

My dustpan.

My plastic dustpan.

Scooping snow and ice off the driveway where I want to walk without landing flat on my back. Bent double. My life is exciting, if nothing else. And I am demonstrating a streak of invention. Like the fact that people ask why I have a fish-slice in my car. That would be because I have mislaid my ice-scraper (along with the spade), and it works very well when trying to remove frost and ice from the car windows. Everyone should carry kitchen equipment in their car.

Necessity is the mother ......and all that.......

On to good news then. I think the ripple will be finished today. I have looked at it, and if I don't stop now, or within a few more rows, it will turn into an excessively long but excessively wide scarf. Or something like that, and that is not what I set out to create. I am at the stage where I want to get on with something else. Not sure what yet, but something. You know that feeling?? I have been working on it for what seems like forEVER. And I am past the red/cream/brown colours. I want to move on to spring colours. Or bright ones. (Yes, I am being indecisive again, Marge.) I will have to go and peruse Mum's Tower of Yarn for inspiration. I refuse to bring any more wool into this house until I have used up what I have (with some help from Mum's stash too, of course). But first I will have to darn in the million or 2 ends on the red ripple. Next time I make one, I think I will darn them in as I change colour, because I hate this part. HATE it.

I am going to do the 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge again this year over Lent. Last year it was wonderful to feel that I was getting a grip on something in this house, and somehow, I think I have filled up the space I created. So I will do it again. I have to get the new study sorted now, because having things in 2 rooms is really not at all practical. Someone - on a blog somewhere - may be you? suggested that for every thing you bring into the house, you get rid of something. So if you buy an item of clothing, you get rid of something in your wardrobe. That sounds very do-able. In addition to the 40 Day challenge.

I am looking forward to it. It must be a Spring thing - this feeling that I need to fling open the doors and windows and let out the old, and bring in everything fresh and new. Paint walls. De-clutter. And there will soon be bulbs to plant and seeds to sew, and I LOVE the anticipation of all things bright and beautiful and tasty in the garden. The seed potatoes are ready and waiting already.

Ok then. I am going to make some coffee finish the ripple, and then it can at least be used for 3 weeks and packed away at the end of the month when the house changes to its Spring garb. Not long now!

The snow came......

 The snow did indeed fall most of the night, and I woke to a white world. You know what I love about the snow here? Two things really. First, it is the silence. The way the snow seems to absorb sound and all you hear are voices. The fact that it is a Sunday helps, of course, and the traffic is nowhere near as busy along the residential roads here.

The second thing I absolutely love is the fact that people talk to each other when there is snow on the ground. It seems to bring out every aspect of social awareness, and fun. I was chatting to a couple of my neighbours as they shovelled snow, and as people passed, they called out greetings. A family wandered down the centre of the road pulling their toddler along on a sled, with their shopping, and everyone smiled. Everyone. Kids raced around with sleds, so excited to be heading for the hill.

 I walked along the road and up to check on the main road early today because I had vague ideas of attempting to drive to church. Those ideas were nixed. But I took a couple of photos, chatted to every-one  out for an early morning walk, and there were so many of them - and then slipped and landed on my rear in the snow.

I then had an attack of the giggles, levered myself up with my trusty stick, told the two lovely ladies who offered help that I was fine, and dusted myself off, thanking heaven that no-one with a camera was around to record my rear in the snow.

 The horses in the field were very excited to see their owner arrive, and they followed him around as he hauled out a bale of hay for their breakfast. They seem to have tossed off their blankets all over the field for some reason, but they were all full of energy in the snow.

 This is the point where I decided to plonk the rear in the snow. Not down the lane out of sight. No. Right on the edge of the main road out of the village.

And I have just checked Flickr to se if my granddaughter had had fun in the snow too. Oh yes she had. This is Missy, jumping in the air with excitement, as her Dad built a beautiful snowman for her. She had a ball. Complete with her Peppa Pig wellies. I think her Mum and Dad had a ball in the snow too. 

Some people hate the snow. Me? I love it. I love the way barriers fall and people call to check on each other. I love the way everyone seems to be so happy and having fun. I  love the silence, and the brightness. I love the way the rooms in the house seem to glow. I love the way the miniature flakes gather to form snowbanks. I also love the fact that here in the UK, no-one goes anywhere because there are no winter tyres on cars. Snow - it makes the world clean and pure, doesn't it?

What a pity we so seldom have any here.

Europe has been caught in a long period of freezing temps. You can go here to see some amazing photos.

Did I mention the COLD?????

The frozen water in my garden potting tray

Are you sick of me saying it is cold yet?? Well, it is COLD. But nothing like as cold as in Engelberg where the temps have been down there around -30C at times. -40C in Siberia. My sister would laugh at me saying this is cold, but our homes are not as well heated or built as theirs, so that is why I am a trifle chilly. If you could just see me now - sitting here in coat and boots and gloves, and yes, the heating is on. But I am still cold.

Jean and I ventured out to Costco this morning, and the sun was shining and the skies were bright. By the time we came home things were very different. And we are due to have snow this afternoon and tonight. So the country will be grinding to a halt tomorrow. (I just looked. It is falling as I speak.)

Anyway.

Hello.

I have been thinking. (Usually a dangerous thing to do.)

I was at a course last night, and the challenge was to see life in technicolour. Not in greys. There was a basket of possibilities handed around at the end of the evening and everyone pulled out a piece of paper, with something written on it. Things which may sound simple, but which can be actually quite a challenge. We can dream. And dream big too. We can do things, which suddenly we realise we may have stopped doing. I grinned at some of the other ladies' slips of paper - I have started doing some of them already. Go swimming - check. Book a holiday - yep, done that. Write a book - hmmm. Go on a hot air balloon ride - check. Sing in a choir - check. Cook a meal for friends - check. Go on a bus journey (aka have an adventure!) - I can do the adventure bit, but the bus? Maybe not right now. I will wait for my bus pass which will come when I am in my dotage. And mine? Go abroad on holiday.

Well, of course I want to fly off into the wild blue yonder. It will soon be 2 years since I saw my daughter. But to some of those lovely ladies, the thought of doing something new was terrifying. So hard. I understand that so well. It has taken me a while to restore the confidence levels here.

There are days when I wake up - and I am sure this happens to everyone at times, and the world is seems grey. And there are times when I would be hard pressed to be able to understand that what I am SEEING through the filters of the mood I am in, is not the reality of what is there in front of my eyes. If I am not feeling chirpy and Linds-like, this is what I see, for example.

 Is this what the world looked like that day? No. But when I am not full of hope and joy and faith then yes, this is what I would see. And believe it to be. Feel. It happens. The emotions, the mental strength or lack of it, the attitude, the pain - they all combine to colour the world. Or bleed the world of colour, to be more precise.

 See, a little bit of light creeps in as soon as I pull myself together and start believing that I am blessed and thankful to be so in so many ways. That it is okay to dream. That every day brings new opportunities. Hope.

And when I start grinning, and trying to twirl around my leki pole in an ungainly fashion, I blink and the colours start to brighten.

THIS is the reality. This is what the world sees. 

But sometimes, I don't. I certainly try to. I want to live in a technicolour world. I want to soak up the beauty around me, the colours, the vibrancy which disappears so suddenly into the gloom of greyness,  Sometimes, it is very hard to keep focused on the good, you know. Sometimes, I get so weary, and then the pain wins and the world goes grey. 

BUT................

I am one of the lucky ones. I am surrounded by the people who love me. And I win more than the pain does. Or the weariness. I am learning to recognise limits. I am not thrilled to acknowledge that they even exist, but they do. My super-heroine cape has been retired for now. 

And I am just Linds. That will do nicely. I am more than enough for me to cope with. 

Have a great weekend!

(And if the above made no sense to you whatsoever, that is ok - pop back tomorrow for more discussion of the COLD and maybe the SNOW. And what I may or may not be cooking for lunch!!)

Blue screens.......

I wish I could tell you that today was a roaring success. Well, it is, in a sense because I am here, of course. If I tell you that the day started with the Blue Screen of Death on the computer, repeatedly, you will see why being here at all is a major miracle.

I will take miracles of any sort right now. Thanks to my 2 sons helping via phone, I managed to make sure everything was backed up and safe, and then also managed to restore things. This was a major improvement on the last computer disaster. I think it was the automatic Windows update yesterday which caused the whole thing to roll over and expire. Updates are not meant to do these sort of things, are they? I ran a full system scan and there were no problems, and then I downloaded the Trend Micro free scanner and that showed no problems either. So hopefully, we are good to go.

I hate the blue screen of doom. With a passion. I start hyperventilating.

Jean popped in for coffee earlier, which was lovely. I think I managed to talk nonstop, which must mean I need to get out more and do stuff. You asked re the cold, Vee - well, this is the wrong sort of cold! In the Alps, it was -12C and lower, and that is the cold frosty chill which shrinks the trousers around your legs and numbs you. This cold is English cold, with a touch of dampness and much too warm. Well. I know what I mean. It was apparently -7 or so last night here, but I was in bed asleep, snug as a bug.

And, the crockpot is bubbling, I am warm, Glynis is popping over soon, and all is well with the world. See? Plenty to be happy about!

I need to work on the adventure bit.......

It is just as well I abandoned my attempt to record a photographic day in my life when I did yesterday. Believe me, I would not have wanted my grandchildren to think this was the way I lived. Beyond boring. And on top of that, I managed a row and a half of the ripple before I nodded off on the couch early in the evening and woke after midnight. At this rate it (the ripple) may be finished by December. 

 This morning, with blue skies and freezing cold to spur me on, I decided to go to the local supermarket. That required my car. My car refused to start. The battery was very dead. Deader than dead. I was not a happy bunny at all. So I phoned the Man Who Looks After My Car, and left a message that I needed help asap. He didn't call me back, so I started checking the prices of batteries on line, and then cleaned the inside of the car, and then came in because you have NO IDEA how awful my leg has been this week. Beyond foul. And I wanted to see which part exactly was so painful.

So there I was, inspecting the leg, when the doorbell rang. All I can say is thank heavens he didn't look through the windows. Bob, the superhero, had arrived. And one phone call and 15 minutes later, the new battery and new windscreen wipers arrived. He discovered that I needed new ones while ordering the battery.

I made coffee. He made my car go. And I impressed him no end by remembering the code for my radio/cd thingy. And then, after parting with more money than I want to think about right now (but very cheap in comparison to other places) I got into my car and headed for that supermarket. Where I promptly forgot what I needed to buy, forgot which special offers I thought worth getting, and so I bought a loaf of giraffe bread.

There is a story behind the giraffe bread, you see - you can go here to read all about it. Clever child. Everyone loves tiger giraffe bread. And it was definitely worth the outing to get some.

So, my adventure of the day was a visit to the supermarket. I would give that a 1 out of 100 on the adventure rating scale,. Sigh. Needs more work.

Let me see what tomorrow brings then........

The sun is shining......

Hello, February - a month I used to remember as being the hottest of the year. Not any more. It is perishingly cold today, and a friend has just been around to prune the apple tree. Which spurred me on to start hacking wildly at the roses too. 

Friend checking out the tree before pruning it

 The skies, as you can see, are beautifully blue and the sun is shining too. Which makes one think it is warm. It is not remotely warm.

After pruning

 And the sun is streaming into the house, showing up every particle of dust and every smear on the windows. And every cobweb. There are many cobwebs.

February is the month my daughter was born. And it is also the month my granddaughter was born.  February is a bright and cheerful month in my mind. A happy month. A month of the colours pink and red and hearts and joy and love and ..... I have always loved February.

My mind therefore battles with what the eyes see when they look out of the windows - the ones with the smears on them. The vista is usually greyish and cold here in the frozen north. Sigh. I don't spend a great deal of time looking back at things. I look at today. The dust and cobwebs, remember - I looked. I know that living fully every day is the important thing I need to focus on. Of course it is. But when the month heralds the celebration of special events, then of COURSE I look back. And the images flash by today, kaleidoscoping 31 amalgamated years into a blur of colour and sound only I can see. I can even feel that soft baby skin. (This will be repeated in April and May too, by the way.) (And March is also heavy on memories.) (In fact Feb, March, April, May are just family months, so be prepared for sentiment at times.)

Anyway. Today. I decided that I would document a day in my life, taking a photo every hour from waking to sleep. I could not have chosen a more boring day. I woke at 7. Photo one = my duvet cover on the bed with a lump underneath it. That was me. Photo 2= the unmade bed. Photo 3 = a cup of coffee. Photo 4 =the computer screen. Photo 5 = iced up water butts in the garden. Photo 6 = apple tree being pruned. Photo 7 = coffee cup. Photo 8 will probably be of me on the couch crocheting, and heaven knows what else I will be able to come up with.

Hmmm.

Maybe I need to choose a better, more exciting day. Any other day may be more interesting. It could not possibly be more boring. Oooh look, time to take another photo. I am blogging. Snap. Actually, the camera's battery is about to expire, so I think I am off the hook for today. Ridiculous idea.

And you get a gold star for sticking around, if you are still here. This is not a stellar post.

I will be back tomorrow. I will have an adventure of sorts, come what may.