Brushing Up

 

These are my grandkids in a mock up dental scene. Meet Dr. Camden and his willing patient Miss Cadrien. Thursday morning they were off to the dentist for checkups and cleanings. That afternoon they sat and waited with their mom during a visit with the family doctor. Suddenly the medical doctor looked a bit alarmed and began to whisper,  "Look behind you, your son is playing DENTIST with his little sister."

Sure enough Dr. Camden was giving a masterful tutorial on brushing and flossing. He also reminded Miss Cadrien of a tiny bit of brown staining that needed to be taken care of. Clearly he understands the fundamentals of good dental hygiene. What he does not know, what neither of them seem to be aware of, is the fact that the nifty light that illuminated Cadrien's healthy mouth is the one that the doctor uses for PAP TESTS on his female patients! Some things are better left unsaid!

A Star by Any Other Name

Last night Orin and I went to a movie. He has had his eye on Red 2 for days now. He thought the cast looked impressive and it was PG so that worked for me. Well, it was a violent little surprise. There were as many bodies flying around the screen as there are goose feathers in a pillow fight. Not even exaggerating. Lots of bullet holes and lots of bodies. But I loved the wardrobe, the shots of Paris, Moscow and London and some pretty glitzy interior design. It was upbeat and fun.

But it was a bit disturbing on another level. There is so much in the media these days about dementia, and brain related disorders and how – just because you are old it does not necessarily follow that you will lose your memory. So I spend a lot of time worrying about the fact that I sometimes can’t remember people’s names. Like really worry about it.

My doctor once told me about a flight he took from Edmonton to Calgary. There was a woman who would smile at him every time she caught his eye. It was disturbing – he thought she was pretty aggressive and he made a point of not speaking to her. A couple of days later he remembered that this was the girl that he had gone to his high school Grad with! So he assured me that I am fine. But I don’t know. I worry. 

Anyway I sat in the theatre and watched each one of the stars make their entrance onto the screen. With every new scene I started to have the same old panic. “I know that face – what is his name?” If you could have heard my mind you would wonder if I even knew what the movie was about. And then after a few critical and horrifying moments the names started to come. Bruce Willis . . yes, John Malkovich – of course.  Helen Mirren, Catherine Zeta Jones, Anthony Hopkins. With each flash of insight I felt a jolt of peace.  Like a phone call from my doctors office,  “You will not need to follow up this movie with a visit to our office.  For today only we wish to confirm that you are of sound mind. Have a nice day….”

And so all is well ... except that ...  I am  realizing... that I have absolutely NO IDEA who I went to my my Grad with. Yikes!

103 Gun Shots Fired - Really?

Prince William and Kate Middleton’s new baby boy was welcomed to the world with 103 CANNON SHOTS FIRED ACROSS LONDON on Tuesday morning. This gun salute came from both Green Park and the Tower of London.  At first I was horrified to imagine such a violent tribute FOR A BABY. But any look at the history of the Royal family will let you see how endeared the Brits are to this pompous acknowledgement. It is like a great big ROYAL HUG.

I watched one video clip and was surprised by the foot work and decorum. The sight of all that precise marching, the colorful uniforms, the loud blasts and the smoke reminded me of how The Alberta Ballet might look if they were part of the Calgary Stampede Firework Show. Impressive – but really loud. Not the stuff of nurseries or lullabies. Oh Well. This was not my show.

If I had been consulted, keeping in mind that Royal traditions change from time to time, this is what I might have suggested:

*Releasing one million baby blue helium balloons into the air from the lawns of Westminster Abbey. In the background a gentle rendition of Rock a Bye Baby rung out by the Westminster Chimes.

*How about injecting new breeds of exotic tropical fish into the River Thames - a billion or so guppies. Not even sure that would work from the perspective of the ecosystem but wouldn’t it be a splashy gesture?

*Sending off monogrammed BURP PADS AND DIAPER BAGS to all male babies born on the new Prince's birthdate, any where in the British Realm. “HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE GEORGE OF CAMBRIDGE wants to be your friend.”

PISH POSH. . .  maybe the whole CANNON SALUTE is a good idea after all. Hard to compete with 103 gunshots. But – and I do feel strongly about this –  pick a different venue than the TOWER OF LONDON. Doesn’t anyone remember what happened to those 2 adorable princes in 1483?

My Lucky Mom.

Today my 84 year old mother was diagnosed with a tumor in her left breast. This is invasive, ductal carcinoma. This villain likes to move around and check things out – doing nasty business everywhere it goes.

My mom is a bit like her tumor. She likes to move – go places and see things. She is not afraid to drive up and down the I-15 all by herself.  Salt Lake City to Calgary, Alberta. No surprise that her tumor is as much of a roamer as she is!

But my mom is also lucky. She once found a curious piece of paper on top of her desk. Her banker recognized it as an investment that had never been cashed by my dad, who had died years before. That piece of paper made a huge difference to her quality of life. My mom is lucky.

It should not surprise anyone that she is lucky with cancer as well as investing. In younger women, (so says her doctor) this lump would wreak havoc. In an 84 year old - it becomes almost user friendly! Lazy - indolent. Her tumor will probably not travel much after all. It will move slowly - without incident. My mom will have minor surgery, followed by minimal treatment and NO CHEMO THERAPY!

I was once diagnosed with the same tumor. I got the FULL MEAL DEAL! I had surgery, radiation, chemo, EXTRA RADIATION and medication for 5 years. I lost my hair and I still deal with "little" issues.  I am lucky and grateful to be here. But I think my mom is luckier.

If I were my mom I would phone all my kids with the news and listen to them say, "WE LOVE YOU MOM!"  I would sit down and cry great big tears of gratitude. And then . . . . . . . . .

 . . . . .Then I would go out and buy a lottery ticket.

What Really Matters

This week was a reminder that I am technologically challenged. Can't believe how many things went wrong while I tried to create a blog. Even with tons of help and a very simple task I messed up repeatedly. I even managed to lose one entire post.  I love this old photo because, when things don't work out, it is a reminder that some things are more important than others. It is all good! 
“. . . .  for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." (Philippians 4:11)

The Harker Men - 2010

What Lies Beneath

Tuesday was Alex the exterminator. Thursday was my friend Leslie, a botanist. It has been a great week for learning things.

Leslie is everything Alex isn’t. Alex is quirky and full of tales of life threatening encounters and since he is missing most of one eyebrow I am inclined to believe him. Leslie is quiet and lovely.  Her gear and her long blonde hair reminded me of how Jane Goodall might have looked if she had ever been spotted in an Alberta wheat field. 

Years ago the company Leslie works for was recruited to study the disappearing wetlands in the area where I live. On the land behind our acreage Leslie and her team found a large growth of a rare, endangered moss plant. If you are a botanist that excites you and Leslie has always wanted to come back and study it carefully. She has asked me repeatedly. Finally, on Thursday I got permission and we both set out on a moss quest.

My part of Alberta is beautiful at this time of the year. That day the sky was wide open and blue, the fields were a rich magnificent green and the wind was just enough of a nuisance to force me to keep asking gentle Leslie to repeat every fascinating word that was coming out of her mouth.

Leslie showed me all sorts of things. What I had assumed was a simple field of grain was a complicated botanical community. She kept moving the grass aside with her tall rubber boots, examining the different foliage. Bending over, and poking around, pulling at blades of grass, pointing out hidden flowers and all the while gently describing things to me like a surgeon who is slicing down into someone’s cancer ridden body, cutting and clamping and detailing everything he sees. Fascinating!

Eventually we found the spot where the moss covered field HAD been. We hunted until we found bits and traces of moss – nothing more. This is no longer a wetland. We also saw the evidence of tractor tire marks – tell tale herringbone patterns that had reshaped the slightly moist and hardened mud. ON top of that was a struggling crop: oats and a few other grains that horses crave. It was a no brainer; someone had drained and cultivated the marshy oasis to plant crops. They had shredded the precious moss again and again.

My take away from that morning hike is the wonder that is in a field of grain. I had no idea that so much was there for our observation and pleasure. We uncovered clues to a mystery and saw stories unfold – many stories. I think there are examples of this everywhere we look. Under us… around us … in front of us… LOTS LIES BENEATH!

Rubbermaid Potatoes

A few years ago my friend Julie told me a trick for planting potatoes. It was something her dad had told her.  You get a large Rubbermaid container and fill it with potting soil and seed potatoes.  Layers and layers of potting soil and seed potatoes.  And then just water and wait and in a while you will have a great and wonderful little garden plot in a Rubbermaid container. Genius. This is instead of taking up space in your regular garden. I finally decided to give it a go.  I have been watching and waiting.

Yesterday Julie phoned me about getting addresses for her son’s wedding. I asked her about her dad. I was excited to tell him about my Rubbermaid potato garden – I thought we could exchange tips and I might even sound like a real gardener for a change. Julie told me that the last time she talked to her dad it was in the kitchen of their charming homestead, sitting down at the table. Julie’s daughter Jessica was with her. They spoke to Julie’s dad and neither one of them could understand a single thing that he was trying to tell them. 

Now I look at that stupid Rubbermaid in the middle of my garden with the green leaves coming out of the top and I just want to cry.