From about 11 years until I was about 15 I had piano lessons. I enjoyed my lessons, my teacher Mrs Carmichael was a large lady, but very kind. I remember I used to come downstairs and practice my pieces before breakfast. It was no chore, I loved doing it. When Mrs Carmichael retired I had to go to another teacher. I didn't like this man, he wasn't the rotund, jolly teacher I was used to, so the excuse that my swimming was getting in the way of my piano lessons was an easy out. As I got older I would tell myself - one day you must go back to piano lessons........
I watch tv and find the program 'Mantracker'. It's everyone's wish to beat Mantracker, the guy on horseback who can hunt you down in the wilds of Canada. I realise that even if I had the chance, I wouldn't be able to beat Mantracker despite the strategies i have devised watching the program.
As I learn to live with the arthritis that I seem to have inherited from my mother, I'm beginning to understand that there are some things that have been put on the back burner for too long, or pipe dreams that have to stay as such. I no longer have the ability to span an octave on the piano, and to be honest, to manage to play a tune using all 10 fingers may be unrealistic. Some of my fingers have minds of their own, are clumsy & will do only what they want to do, and I'm suddenly - and sharply - reminded of my mum who would go 'Oooch, my thooms', and we would roll our eyes, because there was never any thing to see around mums thumbs to give her cause for such an outburst. But hey, I know what she meant! As I try REALLY hard not to ooch in company! And no, there is nothing to see around my thumbs, but man, they can really, really hurt.
I couldn't escape from Mantracker, I'd just be along the road when my hip would start giving me grief. maybe the adrenalin of that might stave off the discomfort there. I can only wonder!
There are lots of wee activities that I would like to be able to do now that are no longer on my agenda. Like doing a cartwheel or a handstand. My wrists would protest, my hands can't flatten out enough to be a support. Maybe in a moment of frustration & with the anticipated adrenalin rush I may just get upside down again. I'll have to plan it though, with painkillers before - and probably after, but what the heck!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
New chicks
Well, its that time of year again - chick raising time.
Not wanting as many as we had last year and not wanting the prolonged hatching season I filled the incubator with eggs - 42 eggs. I know that they all won't hatch so taking that into account and then doing the 50/50 thing, I'm guessing we'll get another 12 girls to lay us eggs. Against all odds we hatched 27 chicks. I say 'against all odds' as I was supposed to add water to the incubator at the onset & top it up as the 3 weeks progressed - and I forgot to add any water! Oops, so the fact that we have any chicks is a marvel.
Last year we had a late hatcher who wore the shell on his head for about a week. He never did have tail feathers, we called him Conch. This year I thought we had missed that, because I know chicken breeders don't allow emotion to get into the deal, but we see a heart beat, then we have to help it. I always hate switching off the incubator once the eggs have hatched as some of the eggs that have 'pipped' may still be wanting to hatch. I feel it's akin to switching off life support. I had left the incubator for 24 hours and just before church I emptied the remaining eggs into the compost bin as I needed to get it cleaned for another hatching that we had planned for a neighbour.
Once back from church and working in the yard I heard the compost bin chirping! I checked but there were no chicks in there, just the eggs - and garden waste. But the chirping was incessant, so Phil & I investigated & found the egg it was coming from - which was pipped. So we took it indoors and using a tooth pick, Phil chipped at the shell to allow the chick out. Luckily I had the incubator on & it was up to heat so 'Dumpster' as we have called him, could go & get warm & dry. To date, Dumpster is doing well & it's hard to tell him from the others who arrived independently and almost 24 hours ahead of him.
Oh, the excitement of having chickens hatch!
Not wanting as many as we had last year and not wanting the prolonged hatching season I filled the incubator with eggs - 42 eggs. I know that they all won't hatch so taking that into account and then doing the 50/50 thing, I'm guessing we'll get another 12 girls to lay us eggs. Against all odds we hatched 27 chicks. I say 'against all odds' as I was supposed to add water to the incubator at the onset & top it up as the 3 weeks progressed - and I forgot to add any water! Oops, so the fact that we have any chicks is a marvel.
Last year we had a late hatcher who wore the shell on his head for about a week. He never did have tail feathers, we called him Conch. This year I thought we had missed that, because I know chicken breeders don't allow emotion to get into the deal, but we see a heart beat, then we have to help it. I always hate switching off the incubator once the eggs have hatched as some of the eggs that have 'pipped' may still be wanting to hatch. I feel it's akin to switching off life support. I had left the incubator for 24 hours and just before church I emptied the remaining eggs into the compost bin as I needed to get it cleaned for another hatching that we had planned for a neighbour.
Once back from church and working in the yard I heard the compost bin chirping! I checked but there were no chicks in there, just the eggs - and garden waste. But the chirping was incessant, so Phil & I investigated & found the egg it was coming from - which was pipped. So we took it indoors and using a tooth pick, Phil chipped at the shell to allow the chick out. Luckily I had the incubator on & it was up to heat so 'Dumpster' as we have called him, could go & get warm & dry. To date, Dumpster is doing well & it's hard to tell him from the others who arrived independently and almost 24 hours ahead of him.
Oh, the excitement of having chickens hatch!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Last week I was catering and being reminded of my past
Several years ago I worked as a care coordinator in a large care facility for the elderly. I loved the job. I loved the residents. I worked at making the facility the best it could be with the philosophy that one never knows when such a place may be required personally!
I remember walking around the place looking at the residents and wondering who they had been in an earlier life, and making sure I avoided the attitude that they are just old folks. All old folks have a history and that history is usually interesting and often amusing. One day I want to grow up to be an old person!
I wonder what makes us take on the 'old person' attitude. Is it poor health, expectation or is it that when one reaches a certain age there is nothing left to look forward to?
I looked at the age group of 20-40. They are developing their careers and families, they are vital and energetic. The 40 - 60 age group settle into a more comfortable lifestyle. They are looking toward retiring, their families are grown & leaving home, they seem less vital and energetic. The 60-80 age group is becoming tired, they have grandchildren and their focus is more about their health and well being. They have less energy. This obviously is a very broad generalization as there are those who do not fit into the bands I have outlined - and I hope I would be one of them. But my point is that many of us assume that we will need a care facility in our later years and our lives travel along that route, and the bus will stop & we will get on it and it will take us to the Home.
Care homes do tend to have a stigma that I for one plan never to get there. How does one down size their home that they have built up, had their children and lives?And then have to leave that home as health dictates that living there is no longer possible? Some care facilities do not allow personal furnishings in with you. How could anyone continue to be happy?
These questions all surfaced in my head last week as I catered a 3 day class about elder care, and all my thoughts and beliefs returned. I was the 'kitchen staff', but few knew my history, and listening to the classes brought my past memories back. Hearing a poem about an elderly resident who was becoming silent in her care, but wanted her carers to know that she too had a life and it was a wonderful one and now here she was receiving care. So many of the issues that came up 'through the wall' as I was making coffee or washing up brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye as I considered how harsh it can be for elders who have to go 'into care'.
I hope one day I'll be an 'old person' - that is many years away - but it is only a heart beat away in reality. as my journey moves me there, I intend to blow apart my age band theories and live a lively, happy and fulfilling life. My thoughts will be with our elders who require the care in homes, and hope their home is a happy one!
I remember walking around the place looking at the residents and wondering who they had been in an earlier life, and making sure I avoided the attitude that they are just old folks. All old folks have a history and that history is usually interesting and often amusing. One day I want to grow up to be an old person!
I wonder what makes us take on the 'old person' attitude. Is it poor health, expectation or is it that when one reaches a certain age there is nothing left to look forward to?
I looked at the age group of 20-40. They are developing their careers and families, they are vital and energetic. The 40 - 60 age group settle into a more comfortable lifestyle. They are looking toward retiring, their families are grown & leaving home, they seem less vital and energetic. The 60-80 age group is becoming tired, they have grandchildren and their focus is more about their health and well being. They have less energy. This obviously is a very broad generalization as there are those who do not fit into the bands I have outlined - and I hope I would be one of them. But my point is that many of us assume that we will need a care facility in our later years and our lives travel along that route, and the bus will stop & we will get on it and it will take us to the Home.
Care homes do tend to have a stigma that I for one plan never to get there. How does one down size their home that they have built up, had their children and lives?And then have to leave that home as health dictates that living there is no longer possible? Some care facilities do not allow personal furnishings in with you. How could anyone continue to be happy?
These questions all surfaced in my head last week as I catered a 3 day class about elder care, and all my thoughts and beliefs returned. I was the 'kitchen staff', but few knew my history, and listening to the classes brought my past memories back. Hearing a poem about an elderly resident who was becoming silent in her care, but wanted her carers to know that she too had a life and it was a wonderful one and now here she was receiving care. So many of the issues that came up 'through the wall' as I was making coffee or washing up brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye as I considered how harsh it can be for elders who have to go 'into care'.
I hope one day I'll be an 'old person' - that is many years away - but it is only a heart beat away in reality. as my journey moves me there, I intend to blow apart my age band theories and live a lively, happy and fulfilling life. My thoughts will be with our elders who require the care in homes, and hope their home is a happy one!
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