Sorry I’ve not posted for a while, but at least your Readers got a wee rest . . . I haven’t had much to say, really. I still haven’t dyed the cottons, in spite of receiving the dyes for them a few days ago. But there’s a good reason, and it’s not that I’m lollygagging around (well, not much, anyway).
Winter in Edmonton . . .
The roof on this place used to leak quite a bit, since before we ever moved here, and Mum being on the top floor has had several episodes of leaking in every room except the bathrooms. Now the condo board want to have the ceilings scraped, re-surfaced with that textured stuff, and then painted. If you had seen this place and all my stuff everywhere, not to mention Mum’s own stuff, you’d understand our frustration. Mum suggested they leave it until we either move or she dies (she’s nothing if not hard-headed practical, my Mum), but no, they say it has to be done now (now being a relative term, really; fixing my old apartment took months – I had a bad flood the first week of January that year and it wasn’t rentable again until October). They aren’t happy with our stuff, because painters, etc., just want to come in, race through the work and leave. Other wise they are working for peanuts. But for us it means massive inconvenience, what with moving stuff out of the way, packing up lots of things, especially the fragile things and all that. Then there is the issue of ‘stuff’ in the air from scraping, surfacing and painting. None of which is good for me to be breathing, but when a person is in their nineties, it’s even worse. And the disruption of our quiet, ‘retired ladies’ routines . . . I worry about dust in the computers, the food, our clothes, and so on . . . Crazy making, for sure.
It’s enough to drive ME to drink, too . . .
Someone had a lot of time on their hands, eh?
Probably my favourite . . .
So I got a phone call on the weekend to let us know that the landlady (who, with her husband, is wonderful and most supportive) will be here Tuesday night along with the condo board chairman, who I have found is not at all empathetic or sympathetic to issues facing older women or, indeed, women who ‘do things’.
Like read . . .
However, there is nothing in the lease paperwork detailing exactly how many items a tenant is allowed to have, so we’ll be standing up to them on that.
What I’ve been busy with, though, has been sorting and re-packing boxes so they will stack, then placing them behind the couch against the wall. This means we won’t be able to access anything without it being a big deal . . . but it will free up a bit more space in the middle of the room, so maybe that will help. Who knows?
So here’s some more music:
The Bricklayer’s Song, by The Corries . . . I love their humorous stuff as much as the serious work . . .
Lukey’s Boat, by Great Big Sea and The Chieftains (filmed over three days in an Irish pub) . . . very dancey . . .
one last dancey bit:
The Irish Rover, by The Pogues and The Dubliners (lots of fun watching the old guys try to psych out the young punks . . .)
I added this next video, then it got ‘lost’ somehow . . . well, here goes again . . .
Crow using tools and solving an 8-step puzzle to get food. I love the whole Crow – Raven family! So intelligent . . .