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The Bank Machine and Me

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

The farther I get into retirement, the more reluctant I am to go “downtown” to run errands. Yesterday was no exception but the dearth of vegetable choices made a trip imperative. Then I realized I needed to send valentine cards to my grandkids, return library books, and get toothpaste. The minutiae of life and so many things on my mind that I even had a list.

First stop the bank because I had no cash and I’m old-fashioned enough that I find it handy at times. Our bank branch has a new ATM with a touch screen, bright colours, and huge fonts. It should be the easiest thing to use and it is. My mind “buzzing” with ‘all the things I had to do’ and the fact that I was parked a little close to a driveway had me grab my debit card and run. Yes, I got the debit card but left the cash hanging out of the ATM.

I returned my library books, chatted with our librarian, (it is a small town), and signed out a couple of new reads. Then to the drugstore to pick out valentines. It was only when I sat down to address them, I noticed that there was no cash in my purse. Plummeting heart…what a waste of $100.

On the off-chance that an honest person returned the money to the teller and that they might be able to trace which idiot didn’t take it, I returned to the bank.

The ATM is way smarter than me. When I didn’t get my money, it sucked it back to safety. I had to wait for a teller to go and retrieve it from the “box” in the cash machine. I am not the first person and the sympathetic teller said, not likely the last to have walked off and left their money. To say I was relieved is an understatement.

I would like to have someone to blame or to say that ATMs invite mistakes. Having a human to facilitate financial transactions like this would have saved me from making such an error. A human would have called me back immediately if I left money laying on the counter. I would like to but I know it was all me. I had a few errands and in a moment of distraction, it was me who left the money hanging.

Robbie is a Player

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

And loading the genetic dice. I ran across an article about robin migration and it turns out that some robins, usually males, decide not to fly south. It seems to me that Robbie is a little far north but it explains what he’s doing here in the middle of winter. The early male gets the females.

Robbie will be here when spring arrives ahead of the competition that headed south. He’ll have the pick of territories and when the girls get here, he’ll be singing and ready with the best nesting site. If he continues to come for meal worms, he’ll be sleek and handsome. Natural selection chooses the biggest and best looking a lot of the time. Robbie has a jump (pun intended) on the choice of mates and has the best chance of passing his genes to the next generation.

Gary says we could be interfering in evolution by feeding Robbie. However, he didn’t show up until it was very cold, -35 C and he’d made it on his own that far. I prefer to think that it shows a superior intellect and that Robbie will pass his “smart” genes to his offspring.

Robbie is smart. He arrives for his worms once the day has warmed up a bit and he sits where we see him, looking for us through the front window. When he doesn’t, Gary whistles for him and he appears from the middle of the fir tree. Then he might stay for a bit to be polite; more often he flies off and returns for lunch. We don’t know where he spends the rest of his day but it’s good to shy away from feral cats, returning hawks, and other dangers.

About the end of March or beginning of April, we expect Robbie will have moved on. There’ll be plenty of food and with any luck he’ll be a husband and a dad. May his days as a player pay off.

A Writers’ Group- Twenty in Twenty

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

I’ve finally dealt with the reality that I will not be the next Margaret Atwood. It hasn’t discouraged me from writing but what might have was the complete lack of publication despite my several stories and a failed romance novel. I blame my astrological sign for my enthusiasm about new projects and my equal reluctance to do the work to make them worthwhile.

That’s where my writers’ group emerges as the hero. Writing can be a pretty lonely pastime but when there’s an discerning audience to share a piece with, the sting of rejection isn’t as sharp. Learning to hear and accept that the words didn’t drip with golden elegance from your fingertips is hard. Those adverbs you love? They are a sure sign of flabby writing. Slipping between present and past tense? It isn’t done. Hard lessons.

Your eloquent prose has only confused the reader. Reading a new bit of writing to the group can be humiliating. Out loud, in your own voice, the errors jump off the page. Then improvements can begin.

The great thing about the writers I’ve met through the years and through this small town writing group is their support and enthusiasm. I met a writer twenty years ago and our mutual interest led to a close and deep friendship. A couple of the writers are much younger but the problems of writing and finding time is the same. I value their opinions and their friendship.

We have had male writers join until life got in the way. For twenty years one other writer and I have maintained the group in its various incarnations. On Feb. 20, 2020, we are celebrating with a self-led workshop and a celebratory lunch.

The things I have published, have been improved and critiqued by the group. Different eyes on your work makes you aware of its weakness and its strength. If you can find a group of supportive, sharp-eyed writers like I have, don’t let them go.

Before I end this. One more thing is off my bucket list. As a retired teacher who had dabbled in writing for years, when the Alberta Retired Teachers announced their writing contest, I was sure I was a shoe-in. A humbling experience awaited. Despite entering each year, the best I achieved was an honourable mention. I was ready to give up but last year I tried one more time. With help from the group, I won one of the categories. Not a threat to Margaret Atwood, but it made me happy.

Robbie Settles In

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I just fed Robbie. He showed up right on time at a little after 11:00, sitting in the mountain ash tree and looking in at us. “Where is my brunch?”

Our resident robin is tough. It goes without saying since he’s still here in the middle of an Alberta winter. The weather has broken and we are experiencing warmer than normal temperatures but they are still colder than Robbie is comfortable in. There’s no food around for him to hunt.

Robbie has adapted so that he can spend more time in our big fir tree sheltered from the wind. It’s dense enough among the needles that it’s impossible to see him, but he’s there. We think he spends the night somewhere else. Either that or he’s not the “early bird.” Another possibility is that he, too, has seen the little hawk that is back in the neighbourhood. It would enjoy Robbie as a meal so fingers crossed, our robin stays hidden.

He hasn’t appeared first thing in the morning waiting for his breakfast the last few days. Instead, sometime between 10:00 and 11:00 am, if Gary goes out and whistles, he shows himself. Then one of us hurries around and gets his worms ready. Robbie now sometimes gets meal worms and at others, King worms which are like the meal worms but bigger. Robbie likes them both.

Once his day is underway, if he gets hungry again, he might make his desires known. Yesterday despite there being nothing on offer, he flew down to the cutting board and sat staring through the window at my husband. Robbie demanded more worms.

He spends some of the afternoon perched in the mountain ash tree which as you can see provides camouflage. Especially on a duller day such as this, Robbie blends right in with the leaves that are still clinging stubbornly to the branches.

Robbie is getting hardier because of the food supply. He feels good; when you feed him, his tail twitches in anticipation and he answers Gary’s whistles. Robbie is tough and with a little help from his friends….

Robbie Goes Missing…

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Tuesday morning and no Robbie. Where was the little guy? There are so many dangers for a wayward robin. Could he have found another robin and stayed with her for company? That was a best case scenario and then the resident pessimist thought for too long and decided it was likely Robbie had flown into a window, by mistake. Gary was able to create some gory images for me. Robbie lying in the snow with his little neck at an impossible angle. blood oozing from his brave beak. It’s surprising how attached we were to the tough winter robin.

Robbie didn’t show Tuesday but yesterday he was back, staring through the window at us as though to say, “Where’s my breakfast?” We were quick to feed him but had to use mostly earthworms. Our Robbie is a bit of a gourmet and prefers meal worms. He ate the earthworms but not with the same relish he gobbles down the more palatable fare. Gary got him fresh meal worms yesterday and today is going to see if we can get him King worms. They’re much like the meal worms but come with more to a container. Fingers crossed Robbie will like them.

I was interrupted partway through this post by Robbie’s arrival. He sat in the mountain ash tree for a bit and then when he moved to the ornamental plum, I knew it was time. The new meal worms are strong and they squirmed in my hand straight from the fridge. How many should Robbie get? He’s been in the cold all night so I dole out 9. Before I can get back into the house he has wolfed them down and left.

Robbie’s new routine, now that he’s stronger, seems to be to drop in for breakfast, lunch, and supper. Then he flies off to do more interesting Robin stuff. I don’t mind. I’m glad he’s no longer missing and hope to see him about noon. He’s a lovable diversion in a prairie winter.

Robin? In winter?

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

It’s -34 or -35 today without considering wind chill. The sun is bright but it’s cold and in our front yard, there’s a robin, in winter, in Alberta. The poor little guy pecked a bit from an ornamental plum, frozen and desiccated, the only available food. Whether it’s climate change or an odd anomaly, he won’t survive without help. Robins like protein- bugs, grubs and more bugs.

We’ve fed wayward robins before. They like hamburger mixed with a little fruit and one winter Robbie and my husband, Gary, became good friends. He’d come to Gary’s whistle and was fairly tame. A female (who was more cautious) also took advantage of the food we’d set out, too.

This new outlier has just eaten 7 meal worms. Who has meal worms on hand, in case of robin emergencies? An ice fisherman. Meal worms last a very long time before pupating when they are kept in refrigeration. Yes, my downstairs beer fridge has harboured various types of legal, live bait. Gary had almost forgotten the meal worms but they were there and alive.

The robin looked at the apple and tiny bits of raw chicken I set out in the sun on my cutting board. He was interested (as were the sparrows) but too suspicious of something new to come down and investigate. Then Gary set out the meal worms that wiggled, catching the robin’s eye. Down he came and you can see him in the picture after eating the first three worms. Gary got four more and they disappeared in very short order. Mr. Robin sat on the cutting board in the sun, full and hopefully warming up.

The real test is later and then tonight. Meal worms will have been a huge change to whatever he’s been eating. We have fingers crossed that the switch isn’t too much of a shock to his digestive system. Even in this short time, we’re kind of attached to Robbie 2.0 and if he survives, we know where to get him live worms.

Hang in there, Alberta Robin. We’ll help you through winter and the temperatures in the minus thirties.

It’s cold…old time cold

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

here on the prairies and this week it’s set to get even colder. It’ll be like an old-time winter where your eyelashes, nose hairs, and then nostrils freeze together. It is nasty cold and there’s a wind chill to boot. I hope that the pine beetles can’t stand it.

I have been whining but then I remembered. Australia is on fire and people there have been killed, had to leave their homes, and have seen their countryside destroyed. Animals have fared even worse and though there are well meant attempts to save them, the majority have perished. Indonesia is flooding and people have been driven from their homes, lost everything, and died. In the Philippines, the Taal volcano is threatening with furious lightning in its towering ash column. Within hours or days, there will be a major eruption; people have been evacuated, the sky is full of ash, and there may be a tsunami. Manila’s airport has been shut down until it is safer.

In the United State, tornados, snow, sleet, and freezing rain have all been part of a nasty storm. Eleven people have lost their lives.

These are just the major on-going “natural” disasters and they make a system of cold Arctic air seem tame. This morning, it was -37 C or colder, depending on the source of the information. It is cold but we are lucky enough that with some caution, it isn’t life threatening.

Kudos to the workers who keep things more or less normal for the rest of us. The police, the electrical workers, the first responders, the firefighters, the oil and gas workers, the farmers (their livestock need more care than ever.) They make this stretch of real cold just an inconvenience.

By Monday, it’s warmer again. It has been just a week but it’s been a long one. I’m not whining, just observing…stay warm.

There Are Always Glitches.

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I recently treated myself to a new iPad, planning to use it, I confess, for scrolling, for writing, and viewing cute dog videos. Because it was expensive, (Apple products are), I thought I would get it set up by a professional at an Apple Store.

When I approached the technician, I made the mistake of saying I had purchased the iPad from Best Buy.

“O,” he said. “We don’t do that for products not purchased at an Apple Store.”

My first impulse was to “go off” on him but then I realized he was busy and an employee at the bottom of the food chain who didn’t make policies.

Instead, I said, ‘What??!! I’m going to phone Steve Jobs…”

“On her ouija board,” interrupted my son who was with me.

With his help and my own iPhone, setting the new device up was easy, although it did involve a little of the obsessive-compulsive, on my part.

My daughter gave me the keyboard I requested for Christmas. Today I wanted to send the Pages document I had written to my PC to print. The old version of the word processing program used to convert the document to Word, no issues. (I should mention I’m cheap and didn’t buy a wifi enabled printer.) Not so, the new Pages.

Particular frustration ensued when the pop-up message announcing the end of support for my Word 2010 in October 2020. Now I will have to buy an subscription (to the tune of $79 annually) if I want to used Word. Gah. I have a lot of my “treasured” writing in Word so I have to open the mothy wallet.

I’m waiting to see what other “surprises” are in store. I do like the iPad and I like Word. I just didn’t expect to do things myself or to buy Office 365. It’s a new Year.

After Midnight

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I get up, pour a small glass of milk and sit in the chair by the front room window. It gives me a fine view of the street, the flashing lights at the railway crossing and occasionally, a vehicle heading home. I like to imagine they’ve been somewhere having fun. On rare nights, I even see a pedestrian, head down, and hurrying home, away from the dark.

Last night, I went to bed as usual and as can happen, I tossed and turned for an hour before getting up. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that glass of wine, or the After Eight mints, or the butter tart and it’s likely the baked beans for supper weren’t the best choice. I got my milk and went to stare out at the night. Nothing stirred. People must have been tired from Christmas festivities or stresses. Not even a train showed up.

Then, the best surprise. The prairie hare, aka a jackrabbit, hopped across the street and onto the lawn. We’d seen his tracks earlier but here he was, in the flesh. It was too dark for me to attempt a picture, but he was startling white except for his ears and despite his earlier visits was skittish. I don’t think he could see me sitting, looking out at him, but several times he stared in my direction. He stopped under the ornamental plum tree we planted in memory of my mum. Perhaps some of the plums were a snack, although I didn’t see him eat and soon he moved over to sit in the shelter of an old mogul pine. He, too, sat and peered into the night. After a few minutes, he hopped across the snow and onto the street where he sat and sniffed the car tracks. Headlights from the avenue frightened him and he bounded away. The last I saw of him was his tail as he disappeared under trees across the street.

Insomnia, even mild insomnia, is an annoyance. No one enjoys tossing and turning as sleep evades them even when they’re tired. Last night, though, I almost enjoyed it. If I had been snoring snugly in my bed, I’d never have seen my visiting hare. Tonight- no wine and no snacks. Who knows what I’ll miss?

“tis the Season of Giving…

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but what to give? The perennial problem. This year I broke it to my adult kids that once again, there would be no new car, no mortgage paid in full, and no yacht. I just want to get them a concrete expression of what they mean to me.

It’s no different for friends EXCEPT that the budget restraint is even greater. I guess I’ll have to find efficiencies. I want something that expresses how I appreciate their support and friendship.

Google knows everything, right? So I thought I’d look for inexpensive, thoughtful gift suggestions for women. What is the first suggestion? An Instapot. Who are they kidding? That’s not a gift. It might be something that makes meal preparation a little easier. You know what makes it really easy? A gift card to a restaurant. I didn’t go much farther on the list before I came to an Airfryer. Really? I hoped we’d advanced past the little woman in the 50s who looked great, cooked great, and was plain great for her man. Ugh.

Tasteful red for the Holiday giving.

Google stuff for men? Guess what socks and shorts aren’t on the list. Fun stuff is. Collectibles for movie and gaming fans. A Water-proof Build a Fire Kit for the outdoorsmen. I didn’t notice hedge clippers or snow shovels as likely to be popular. Before I sound misandristic, I like most men but for gift sugestions, they come out ahead.

I wasn’t kiddiing about the Fire Building Kit

So what will my friends get as tokens of my appreciation? I’m not sure. I guess I’ll need to get a little creative and hope that they feel a little of the value I place on our relationship. O, and laughs. I’ll try to provide more laughs.

May your Christmas Season be one of joy.