A Big Sleep

Thursday began dull: The weather was dull, and I felt dulled by the routine and solitude that has become my every day. I also felt shitty with a low-grade headache all day. Sheba came home from the groomers smelling and looking lovely. That was the best part of the day.

Without any energy or desire, I spent the day binge watching Little Dorrit, featuring just about all great British actors in one series. Then I went to bed at 7:30 because I felt so crappy. I had one of my horrid, dreadful nightmares and awoke thinking life would never be the same. It was a night of true horrors with other milder nightmares, and I awoke this morning with the headache still there. Sigh!

I was up at five to start the fire and feed my beloveds and then I went back to bed and, at 8:00, after almost twelve hours of sleep, I awoke without a headache and I felt really good to be back to normal—well, my normal. 

It’s raining this morning, but warm, so I’ll go with my friends to walk Sheba and come home to read a book sent to me by my friend, Marsha. Late this afternoon, my last two cords arrive—too late to tote and stack, so I’ll cover them up until tomorrow when, I hope, there’ll be breaks in the rain that will allow me to start my final round of toting and stacking. But being the last of the wood, and the wettest and heaviest, I’ll take my time over the next while to complete the task.

In just over a week, Daylight Saving Time starts (March 14), and six days after that, it’ll officially be Springtime. The first Winter of Covid will be over! Hurrah.

The Dorrits and the Windsors

Tuesday was a write-off. I napped several times and went to bed early. I had no energy or desire. My batteries were dead. But after a great and long night’s sleep, I felt normal again on Wednesday and so yesterday I got so busy, I forgot to write a post. 

It was a dull day yesterday, but it wasn’t raining so the morning dog walk was dry, and it wasn’t cold either. So, when I got home, I gathered stuff from my shed and took it to our recycling center and then came home to rake the driveway and clear it of hundreds of Fir cones and little branches.Then I did the same to part of the backyard lawns and the front yard. It felt very, very good to tidy up Pinecone Park a little.

I wrote for two more cords to be delivered but I’ve not heard back from Bob about a delivery. I’m not minding not having to stack wood at all, but I hope to hear from him soon so that I can get the final two cords stacked into my woodshed.

Today is dull again but not raining. I expect to do more yard work if the rain holds off. I have to take Her Highness to the groomers, so I’m going to see if I can get some Primula’s to plant to bring some early colour to the deck planters. And I’ll do more raking of the lawns.

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The Windsors give me a pain. It’s fine to me that the family serves as tourist fodder for England, but I despair over the rest of the world’s thinking that they deserve any attention at all. I read online that “Buckingham Palace” is investigating charges of bullying on the part of Megan Markle—a woman I can’t respect for marrying into that daft family.

Undertaking an investigation into bullying on her part appals me given that the palace has not investigated any of the sordid activities of Andrew Windsor, given his long and visible relationship with Jeffrey Epstein and his accusers. What a sad joke of a family! 

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I reckon that being outside and working is very good for me. I sense that my mental health has improved. I notice that I can speak better to people I pass as I walk with Her Highness and with friends on Skype or Facetime, and I haven’t had a seizure for a week!

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I’m watching and really enjoying Little Dorrit on CBC Gem. My bedroom, as a child, was in our basement in what we euphemistically called our rec room. It was full of books my parents inherited from, probably, my mother’s mother—I never saw either of them read—and there was a set of the collected works of Charles Dickens.

I read many of them and was entranced by his stories of hardship, but I never read Little Dorrit. The series stars Clair Foy, who was so wonderful in The Crown, and Matthew Macfadyen—plus the amazing Tom Courtenay and Judy Parfitt.

DNA Results

My DNA analysis results arrived from Ancestry. The test was a gift from my friend, Leslie, who was at my side during the search for my birth mother and our reunion. The results somewhat surprised me: I’m 37% French—no surprise there—but also 37% Scottish, and that really surprised me. I’m 24% Irish and 2% “other.” 

My birth mother, unfortunately, told me a whopper of a lie about my father and then recanted and told me another lie. Then she told me my paternity was none of my business. Once, when we were with a one of my mother’s friends, she mentioned a man from her past as we drove by a house he’d once lived in many decades before. Mother’s friend asked how she knew him and my mother said he’s asked her out.

“But surely you wouldn’t date and Anglo,” said my mother’s friend, and my mother said that he’d asked her out; that she didn’t say she’s gone out with him. Mother considered herself a staunch separatist. But my DNA analysis may be saying that my father was an Anglo. I don’t know what to make of all the British content.

Leslie, who’s a pro on Ancestry and has a brain for research wrote to say: “From the DNA list you sent me I am pretty sure I have found your paternal side and now we know why you have such great legs and look good in a dress. The Scots and French have always had an alliance you know. Anyway, when you feel like it we should talk.”

I’m very excited about discovering what she has discovered!

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Monday began with a dog walk with my little group of friends. Then I came home to order the last two cords of wood and to read. The book (I finished it) was a bit of a disappointment in that it’s somewhat of a romance as well as an investigation into the resistance activity of the author’s mother. I’ve absolutely no interest in romance stories.

The afternoon was a delight to experience. It was 10° in the shade and felt much warmer in the sunshine of Rollo Park. It was a gorgeous day—all day! The premier said yesterday, that vaccinations of people aged 60 to 79 will begin mid-April. I had an “I made it” feeling, proud and happy that I am so close to receiving the vaccine and endured the isolation without ever feeling bored or unhappy.

In the evening, I did some binge watching of Grand Design New Zealand. I enjoy the Grand Design shows; each one is about people who build their own dream homes and they’re not all rich. They choose their subjects well, the stories are compelling, and the variety of building materials and forms is beautiful and interesting to see done by extraordinarily talented builders, joiners and interior designers.

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Today … I have no plans. The day is dull (but not wet) and I’m under no pressure to do anything, so I’ll likely start yet another book. 

Another Weekend Passes

March is finally here! Hooray! IN two weeks, Daylight Savings starts and in three weeks, it becomes Springtime. This is a good month!

Saturday was lovely. I chopped lots of wood and did a cleanup of the courtyard and some mild tidying of some of my gardens. I really enjoyed doing the work because it wasn’t compulsory, as the wood toting and stacking was. It was gentle work that I was doing by choice and it really made my yard look better. It was fabulous to be outdoors in sunshine.

I finally watched a program I taped on PBS about Marion Anderson, a reluctant figure in the battle for American racial equity. What stunned me in the film, were scenes designed to help us understand the times in which Ms. Anderson lived. In particular, it was a shot of a parade through the downtown of an American city of thousands of people dressed in Klu Klux Klan pointed hats and robes.

The scene made me realize that intolerant zealotry was not anything new—Trumpism is just its latest itineration. America has a long and loud history of anger and white supremacy and it was shocking to realize. It was also interesting to learn that, as with Josephine Baker, Marion Anderson fled to France where people of colour were able to live far, far more freely and comfortably, and it was in Europe that their talents were first celebrated.

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Sunday was busy. I got up and immediately baked the finest Madera cake I've ever made by making some Lemon drizzle and pouring it into the cake when the cake came out of the oven. I wanted to have something delicious to serve Shelly and Kevin when they came over to christen my new games of Scategory and Tile Rummy.

I cleaned every surface of my home, every shelf and nook and cranny, as well as baking the cake and taking Sheba for her walk. Kev and Shelly arrived at two and we had a great time together, after which, I crashed on the couch to watch the Great Canadian Baking Show and then Belgravia.

And so begins another week, as I await the next two cords of wood and more Winter wood toting and stacking.