Brothers Karamazov

This is one of my most favorite of all movies.
Grushenka, played by Maria Schell , was in love with a Polish Officer and Dimitrii, played by Yul Brenner, was in love with Grushenka.
When the Polish Officer called upon Grushenka to meet him at a tavern she ran to him.
Dimitrii went insane trying to find her. When he finally did Grushenka asked him if she should forgive the polish Officer for treating her so shabbily. Dimitrii said: You already did by showing up.

Actions spoke louder than words.

This is an amazing movie and I hope Turner Classics plays it again. I taped it to watch again.

This where Dimitrii really falls in love.



This movie comes with snow , Ice Skating on a lake, Russian Troika Horses, a Dancing Bear, Gypsies, music, tea from samovars, and the hot smells of good BBQ'd meat on skewers.
Life is seen in a village With Shatner playing as a Monk.

It is filled with love, hate, suffering, murder, and a never ending
question of whether or not God exists.

The old Saintly Monk Father Zasima, who refused to settle the Karamazov dispute over money, bowed down to the floor and Kissed Dimitrii's hand to his Father's horror.

Every actor played his part with heart . I saw other actors playing this Karamazov story, but none surpasses this one with Yul Brenner and Maria Schell.
Hope you get to see it one day.
:)

Days in Our Lives.

This picture was take in Tsawaassen.

It reminded me of this story.

A few years back, when we went to Quebec to check our country house,we found the roof needed to be changed. During summer it is difficult to get construction workers or any worker for that matter and I wanted to be there when it was being done. I couldn't trust leaving it the way it was with the winters we have there. My Mom was still alive and she was a hand full, so I couldn't climb the roof and my husband was in BC working, so we could not depend on having his help either.

Well, I managed to get some neighbors to help me and finally hired my neighbor's son and his girl cousin who volunteered to do it. They ripped off the old shingles and threw them into my Dad's home made utility trailer.

My younger son and I took the trailer to the dump. In Quebec, you are allowed two free dumps a year. So when you bring in your trailer, you better make sure its a big trailer and full to make it worth your while. Then they tell you what to put where and your garbage can be mixed in the trailer.
I like this better than BC where they weigh your vehicle both in and out and charge according to weight.They are also particular because they charge for different things differently. Metal is free, normal garbage has one price, wood another, cardboard another. When you come, you can't mix so you need to come several times before you can get rid of everything and it becomes expensive.
In Quebec you also buy a trailer license only once and you can use it on any trailer till the end of time. In BC you need to pay every year like car insurance.

Well, the story went like this. I drove my huge fully loaded, 16 foot utility trailer and after being told where to unload, backed it in to the dumpster to unload my shingles. My son and I began unloading. It was scorching hot, the shingles were dirty and heavy and full of nails.

Then this Arab guy shows up with a tiny little trailer, similar to a wheel barrow. It was full of what looked like green smelly rabbit pooh. He asked me if I could move my trailer so he could unload.
I felt this was rather rude of him but the wheel barrow trailer was small and I figured he would lift it, get rid of the smelly stuff quickly and leave. So to be nice, I moved my trailer and he moved his in.

I watched him get out of his car with a small child in diapers. He took out the smallest shovel in the world and began to slowly shovel the stuff into the dumpster. Watching him, I stood there,wide eyed, open mouthed and fuming. He couldn't find a smaller shovel.

The baby was walking around by itself in a very dangerous area. The man would take all day to unload his wheel barrow at this rate, my son and I were hot, dirty, tired and then to boot I noticed that he wasn't even supposed to unload green stuff into this particular dumpster.
When he turned around to look at me, he saw I was fuming.

He said: " Look. I know you are angry cause I asked you to move."

Well that was the wrong thing to say, in the mood I was in.
He should have just unloaded and left because this was when I blew up.

I said : "You made me move my big heavy trailer for this wheel barrow and now you will spend half a day shoveling it and it's not even the right dumpster. You are supposed to put this in the other one." and I pointed out where.

There were no other cars anywhere. He had the whole dump to put his wheel barrow trailer but he chose to force me to move mine, like he was the King of Sheba.

I continued :
"Now, on top of that, you let out a naked baby to burn in the sun and to walk around glass and other dangers, like falling into one of these dumpsters.
I am going to follow you home and tell your wife what you are doing and then let her tell you a thing or two."

He began shaking and shoveling harder, getting me madder because all he had to do was to tip the trailer and everything would fall out in a second.

He grumbled : I don't know why I woke up this morning.

It dawned on me then, that he probably already had a blow up at home with his wife over this smelly wheel barrow affair and was there against his will. That's all he needed was to come home with another woman blasting his wife about him. I also realized he was not that good in multi tasking. This whole thing was a novelty to him.

We were both so fuming angry, sizzling like hot bacon in a frying pan, that when we stared at each other, like two cowboys in a duel, we both could not help but burst into laughter.
I think he could picture me explaining things to his wife and he never expected me to blurt out something like that, any more than I expected me to sputter it. lol

I must have looked a sight with all those dirty shingles and he was not so pretty either.
He looked like he fell out of bed. That's country life for you lol

Anyway, we parted friends. He took his wheel barrow trailer to the right dumpster and I got my spot back to unload my stuff. My 14 year old son did most of the unloading and I did the pushing up front stuff.

Before long my roof was finished and the neighbors 17 year old son did a great job. I don't know how he worked in the heat up there but he did and my son went up also but he stayed only half a day with the hammer before coming back down complaining about the heat.
The roof is holding to this day and I am happy. I call this a learning holiday. But I was around my sons age when my Dad built the house and it was a family project. My Dad believed that to be free you never take a mortgage. You do a dollar down, dollar a week, till you have what you want and today I still believe that this is the only way to get ahead in life.

We learned not to put all the shingles on the roof until you were ready to use them, Otherwise they stick together and they are hard to rip apart. So we needed to put them into the shade to cool, to separate, before using. lol Little tips.

A year later, the neighbors boy got himself a real job in a lumber yard.
He graduated from high school and got himself a car.

Grad year is a very dangerous year.
Kids go wild and party and then they die.

This boy didn't drink but he was heavy footed on the gas pedal.
Driving down a dark winding country road, something happened. He lost control of the car and it flew into the ditch hitting the cement which held up a commercial driveway. He wore no seat belt so he flew through the window, over an 8 foot frost fence which practically cut off his leg. Needless to say, his neck and head were broken. It was a mess.

My son graduated this year and I am always after him to be careful because this is not the first story of this sort I hear.
Two months later, this boy's friend also died this way but he was charging down the road with a wife and two kids. He died and his 5 year old, with a broken leg, tried to pull his Mother and baby sister out of the car.

The local country stories are incredible.

All we are left with are memories of playing soccer with them , having races, fixing a roof, sitting by campfires, exchanging stories and now this, an end to lives, which had everything to live for.

We love them. We raise them but eventually we are all in charge of

Days in Our Own Lives,

and we hope we have sense enough, to live them well.

Feather of Freedom

Feather of Freedom work in progress.

A soft white feather off a sparrows breast

Landed on my lap.

And I gently picked it up

So careful not to squash and wrinkle the beautiful

Puffy Array of downy vanes arranged around its delicate quill.

As I looked closer, I tried to find the tiny hooks which connected the soft barbules together,

so they could stick to each other, creating the smooth surface treasured by all feather collectors.

This feather molted and was replaced by a new one to keep my sparrow

Warm, dry and camouflaged from harm.

As I was caressing this feather, my sparrow, fluffed up on an apple tree,

Was also cleaning himself, with his beak piercing between the barbules and rearranging his feathers again

Into a strong surface which could carry him high into the sky.

As he cleaned himself he looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye,

As if to say:

"Take care, for I still have a journey ahead of me."

And as I kept watching him, I was affected by his cheerful disposition.

I smiled back at him, secretly wishing him well.

As I lifted the feather to thank him,

Showing him my gratitude for sharing his life with me,

He flicked his tail and flew off into the horizon

As if in a hurry to reach his destination.

Sadly, left alone, I searched to find an old discarded perfume bottle and thought:

"Feather, your job is to fly. Not to be left behind."

I cut out a tiny cork ship which I slipped through the mouth of the bottle and glued it to the bottom.

I then gently pushed through the feather and set it up high and proud, into the deck, so it would sail and fly forever.

Once my bottle was securely sealed and ready to be viewed, I slipped a knot around it's neck

And hung it outside by the branch where my friend, the sparrow, could find it.

There it hangs,

Sailing through green branches, pushed by the wind, with no particular place to go.

Every day I sit on the porch, waiting and hoping to see my sparrow again

Every day his feather brings me joy thinking about him, the places he is visiting and the cheer he is bringing to all who see his carefree, mischievous sparkling eyes.

This Feather of Freedom,

Off a sparrow's breast,

Is on a journey, to the far off west.

It will sail forever

It will always fly

It has so many uses

But not enough time.

This Feather of Freedom

Touched me today

I wish I could use it to fly away

But my life is grounded and

I'm here to stay.

My freedom I found in a Sparrow's eye.

Who's chirp I hear up in the sky

A downy feather was his gift to me

And with this feather, he set me free.

A Lady’s Life

A Dog Named Beau

Since I have a dog named Beau, well actually, he's isn't mine but my oldest son's dog, I could not resist to put on this bit with Johnny Carson and Jimmy Stewart reading a poem on a dog named Beau.

Our boy is similar, loves his freedom and to eat but he doesn't bite. When you sit he never stops pushing your arm up so you pat him. He can be very pesty. As a pup he was very friendly and smart, but because people's dog's who were not leashed, came up to him with aggressive tendencies, when my son took him for walks, he learned not to trust other dogs and barks at them before they decide to come to him when he is leashed.
Because of this, he doesn't go out much now lol
The young have the girls and no time for dogs and the old are too old to deal with this. lol

We jokingly call Beau an ol junk yard dog because of his colors and his rugged stalky look. He is a golden / border collie and something else mix lol .
I never saw his Dad but I understand he was humungous. Both parents were country dogs. The Dad got hit by a car and the Mom was shot by conservationists, for chasing wild deer.
Can you imagine that? There is no freedom for dogs anymore.
Even in the countryside. But the owners were warned.

Beau loves to play hide and seek, especially when he's been doing something bad. lol
He is really a great dog.
But then...... most dogs are. Even the bad ones.

I can see why Jimmy Sewart would be crying for all dogs ........ named Beau.
Enjoy.

Adage of Living.

If you wait long enough, you may find that your fashion accessories, come back in style.
An old pair of high healed shoes which cost a good 10 dollars from yester year, may very well cost you 200 dollars to buy today.
Similar prints to the one above, may be found in many stores today because they came back in style and framed you could probably get them for about 20 dollars. I am sure my Grandmother paid a lot less for the one above.
This print, is about 60 years old and still in excellent condition.
It seems to be a fall scene, with dried flowers and leaves and apples which seem to have been torn off a wild, unkempt apple tree, struggling to survive, as the fruit portrays.



I survived the wilderness
the cold, withered brush of a forest grown wild.
I spent winter hibernating
to awaken to spring's new dawn.
Refreshed and enriched, like soft black peaty soil
My soul trembled, like a new baby fawn
For time decided it would expose me
to new colors and smells to explore.
Like a babe, whose eyes first open
and whose lungs, take it's first true breath
I swooned to this new found beauty
into which this dead brush had burst.
It shed it's old coat of winter
To wear a green feathered dress
Bedazzled , be jeweled in the glory
of dew drops and webs of silk.
And so, once again in this rebirth
I would live to see a new day
I was no longer lost in a wilderness
But at home, warm and safe, to stay.
Such is the adage of living
Such is the adage of death
Such is the adage of learning
There can be no future without a past.
I spent winter in hibernation
To awaken enriched and refreshed
In the sun of this new day of rebirth
I learned
Life, like still waters, runs deep.

A Lady's Life.

Our Home

I don't know if you remember when they made pictures out of wood where each intricate piece had to fit like in a jigsaw puzzle. This is one on my wall I happen to enjoy looking at. Different textures/designs of wood had to be cut out to create this piece.It's a peaceful scene
One wishes one could enter this world just to see what it would be like in real life.
I do not know who made this piece.

Let us not be so bold as to laugh and envy

Let us not snivel, nor drink of blood

Let us not conquer, not be conquered

For this is beneath any chivalrous romp

Let us dream of ideals and utopia

Let us plan for more generous days

Let our nights pass in deep, un stung memories

Of sweet tales that our kinsmen have lived and passed

Let us not sit and be silent

Let us not weep in remorse

Let us always stand tall and joyous

Waiting for night fall’s repose

The white snowy peaks of our mountains

Reflect the halo s of all of our souls

As we wait for God, here, to notice

That our home is the best in the world.

A Lady's Life

All Who Love

This is a painting I did from a picture of a grand lady.

A Grand Lady is she
who knows her self worth
The world's desire
Her warmth, the world's hearth
She is an inspiration
To all those who flail
Her spirit is strong
Her tears are veiled.

They blend in with the diamonds,
The saphire jewels,
We, who think to know her
Can't be more wrong.
Her heart can be broken
For all we know
Her words can't be spoken
To all who she knows.

A Grand Lady is she
Whose warmth melts the world
Inspiring the people
AND

ALL WHO LOVE HER.

A Lady's Life

Because You're Mine

Thanks Honey for a Beautiful Day!!

A Little Breath of Purity

A bouquet of perfect roses
A son's fragile symbol of love,
to a Mom , whose life he has become.

A bouquet of white roses
received with grace and tears
and forever treasured by a loving heart that's true.

A bouquet of roses aged with time
Etched and wrinkled,
yet perfect, beyond perfection
Such a love, cannot grow old or blind.

And when these roses, lie upon her breast
on that final of all days
she'll take with her, a little breath of purity
a gift, from the greatest gift of all.

A Lady's Life

Sunny Tsawaassen

We found this beauty on the beach in Sunny Tsawaassen, Delta, BC.

We spent countless hours days and years on this beach. Raised puppies and children and
took our parents to sit and picnic. This beach has swings and a cantina for burgers and fries and people come to play badminton, write books, study for exams, do artwork, walk/ run their dogs, or just share a cup of tea or coffee with a best friend.
During the day, people bring chairs and place them in the lovely pools of water left behind by the outgoing tide and you could read and tan keeping cool, sitting in them, while your children play in the water around you.
We raised our Nugget there and I can still see his golden ears flapping as he ran the beach into puddles that were way too big for him lol
We also brought our Max there to enjoy his last days before putting him down because of major hip displasia. He wanted to play so much and tried to follow my son into the water in dire pain.
He was a very loving, loyal German Shepherd.
When the tide rolls in around 4 pm, it comes in fast and before you know it you have a place you can actually swim in. The water is warm and clean.
This is when you take out your plastic equipment to float on, kayaks, and wind surfing boards or walk way out into the bay because it isn't very deep.
On the other side you can see White Rock, by the American Border and the famous Mount Baker, a sight for sore eyes because it's always full of snow and makes for such a cool horizon. Whenever they talk about the snow melting and Global Warming, I always look to this mountain and say to myself, if this mountain ever fades from its original snowy white, then we know we are in deep trouble. All around us, in the horizon, we see the Rocky Mountains blocking us away from the east.
This beach is where my Mom met an old man on his scooter, who took a fancy to her lol and gave her a candy, which she grabbed like a little child. He kept saying his name was Sutherland and invited us to visit his place up the beach a bit. Except for the candy, my Mom sat rigid looking at him suspiciously. She couldn't walk or talk much by then. She did not know what was going on. lol
When we got home we kept thinking maybe it was Donald Sutherland's Dad and if it was, well what a small world this is.
It's amazing how many flashbacks you get visiting the same places over and over again.
I guess it becomes something you call
home.

Sweet Chores of Life

This is a little piece I got in Singapore.

I love little boxes to put things in and use this piece for my little treasures.
I loved how they put on the finishing touches on this one

The statues on top made me laugh when I got them and they still bring a smile to my face because the Gramma takes me back to Mark Twain's, Huckleberry Fin times.

The Shoemaker reminds me of my Grandfather, who was very particular with his shoes and that of his children's. He repaired them in spite of everyone wanting a new pair, instead of always wearing repaired old ones. Here the shoe maker is demanding to fix the shoes just like my Grandfather did.
His work was immaculate and they looked almost brand new once he was done with them.

The glass flowers in the decorated pot I also love because I don't have to fuss with them and wait for them to bloom and they are easy to wash and maintain.

Whenever I look at this display, it makes me happy because of how it speaks to me.

Winter Evening

This is a work in progress.

I obtained this picture from a postcard I liked. We had winters like this heavy with snow and we'd go out in the evening as a family, to throw snow balls and make snow men. I especially waited for a night like this to walk and meet my Mom at work and accompany her home.
It would always be so comforting to see the lights in the window and then to look forward to warming our feet inside by the warm fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate.
In this painting I am changing things like adding mountains
etc.... To suit my own vision of this particular evening.

The Original had Christmas trees in the wagon.

Since I hate cutting down trees I won't put that in there. lol

The house will be different although I like it in purple, it doesn't match the blue mountains, Not that it has to. I was thinking to make more branches on the tree outside and cover it in festive lights as well as the house which should have some hanging lights. No house with children, is ever without a snowman and country scenes always have dogs.

One day it will be finished.
When I was a kid, my friend's Dad painted bears on a log in a forest, from a post card .
It's a well known post card and I've seen the original painting in the store, but
because I watched this man paint it, it secretly meant a lot to me to see it on his wall even if it was a copy,
I loved those bears and often thought to paint them myself so I could have something similar but so far I have not reached the bear painting stage. lol
I am mainly into kids dogs and horses and of course soccer.

In any event I work slow because I am the sort of painter that requires a special hobby room
to do this sort of stuff. This way every time you walk by you can look at it and see what it needs.
Then you can work on five of them at the same time and the work becomes interesting. lol

It's a bit different from the 20 foot w x 10 foot h props I used to draw for my sons drama plays.
They took up my whole wall in the living room and everything had to be done from scratch,
starting from sewing of the material together, to making hooks to hang it and then the painting itself.
It was hard work but I had so much fun making it and it felt so good when the parents would come and stand in front of it for pictures after the play was over, with the kids.
That's mainly why I did it and this was my reward.

Walking in art museums, I always saw an artist set himself up in front of a Michael Angelo or a Leonardo da Vinci painting and try to make it as lifely looking as the actual picture. Since it takes years to paint such a picture, I often wonder how long they sat there painting it.:)

Ombre

This is a portion of a picture I drew when I was a kid I named Ombre.
It was done in oil and wasn't finished because I put it away to give it time to dry.
When I came home from school one day I was shocked to see it framed on the wall.

My Dad who liked to shock me, stood there laughing as he saw my face change.
I asked him why he did this and he said cause he liked it. lol
These are the kind of good memories I have of my Family.
They were always unpredictable.

Anyway ...as a result I never did finish it and this is the way it hangs to this day.
I look at it today and think to myself things haven't changed much.
My Ombre is still in style with his earring and cigarette lol

My husband took pictures of him and I asked him why and he said because he likes it.
So I said ok I can put a cross section of him on my blog.
I have so many pictures I started that wait patiently to be finished.
Many I gave away and now have to catch up to make some for myself to leave as memories
for my kids.
And why not?
Hope every one is enjoying the summer. The weather is great!!!

What Children See

There is nothing so endearing as hearing the heart felt, innocent laughter of a child.

It stays with you no matter where you go and tears fill your eyes remembering

that this child is yours. It is a gift from God, blessed and delightful as life itself.

As you watch it sleep, it’s all you can do from hugging it to death and smothering it with kisses.

And tears flow, thankful that it is healthy and happy with 5 fingers and five toes.

I don’t know who delights more in the … This little piggy game…….or watching the expressions

Of the eyes and mouth as you sit making a fool of yourself

Playing in fake sneezing and peek a boo and making the child eat spoonfuls and spoonfuls of

Mashed food while being entertained by Mother goose stories which you tell with the same voices

A witch or a goose may talk in.

I think during these times, we are the best that we can be.

We put on our best professional performances and never even realize it.

I think the birth of a child is the greatest blessing God could give people and parenting doesn’t really require skills, as much as it does

Love, time, patience and tranquility to enjoy bringing up a new person , raising it to be strong and

able to carry the sad burdens of the world, that’s

Full of selfishness, pig headedness and pain.

They say ignorance is bliss and maybe this is what God intended for mankind.

In his opinion, he thought, isn’t it enough for one to carry the burdens and for one to make sure

Mankind doesn’t become extinct?

Isn’t it enough for one to self sacrifice himself, so the rest could live in peace, joy

And health.

As God gets old and wrinkled from the worries of the universe, he can enjoy the small things

That count.

As a parent replenishing his soul looking into the eyes of innocence, totally relying on the parent for its

Survival and protection, so does God replenish his soul by looking at his creation of man. For we are his children and he delights

In watching us grow and entertains our curiosities so we can one day take over the burdens of the universe, as he did for us.

And Yet the world does not trust in God.

We have children, who do not trust their parents.

We have parents, who do not trust their children.

All our souls are blemished and dark as we lose focus and trust, in those closest to us, who we are supposed to love.

We feed off this darkness pretending to be adults when in fact to be an adult is to be the exact opposite.

To be an adult is to protect the innocent from fear, ugliness, pain, suffering, hate, war.

To build a human requires a hand to shelter its eyes from things he should not see so he grows to be a better understanding secure man.

Is knowledge power ? Seems the more we know, the less we know.

Is ignorance bliss? No not entirely. History has foretold horror stories that befell the ignorant who just wanted peace and bliss.

It’s not enough to be happy in an unhappy world.

So what does God want and what do we want of God?

What do our parents want and what do we want of them?

In the end , do we not all want the same things?

To be able to understand this, is one huge step for mankind,

Because it’s one huge step in understanding the Father, who made us possible.

alady'slife

Baby Hummingbird

Good news for creationists. Scientists in England found that the chicken came before the egg
but they have no idea where the chicken came from lol
Here is another video which is soo cute to watch. Life is indeed a miracle and man is soo blessed to be able to enjoy in even the smallest things in life.
--------------------------------
She thought she was a chicken. She clucked, pecked at the ground, and tried to fly. Her parents thought of sending her to a psychiatrist, but they were poor and needed the eggs.
--------------------------------

Q. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

A. The rooster.
--------------------------------

What Came First The Chicken or The Egg?

Here is some miscellaneous info.

One level teaspoon consists of 80 drops.

If 1 cup = 240 ml.

1 Gallon = 15.772549 cups

If 1 jelly bean = 1.5 cm long and 1 cm wide

A 1 gallon pickling jar can take about 5000 jelly beans.

Some like to melt the candy down to see exactly how many can be put in.

The same with quarters. If you melt them there would be no air space between the items.

Chocolate dates back 3,500 years, to the Olmec civilization in Mexico.

New York was once known as “New Amsterdam”.

The name Harlem came from a Dutch city of Haarlem in the Netherlands.

Prostitution dates back 2,500 years back to Greece who worshipped the Goddess Venus

And temples were up kept by women charging men for servicing them.

Prostitution is mentioned in Ezekiel and Isaiah.

Brothels existed in 600 BCE

Homosexuality is talked about in the Bible since Noah’s time in Genesis:

"And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him."
What did Ham do? Did he just look at his naked father or was there something more to it than that?

Some commentators have suggested that Ham committed homosexual rape on his drunken father,

and that this was why Ham's descendants were eternally punished with slavery. 9:24

What came first, the chicken or the egg.?

Wikipedia helped here.

Evolutionary believers believe: Since DNA can be modified only before birth, a mutation must have taken place at conception or within an egg such that an animal similar to a chicken, but not a chicken, laid the first chicken egg. In this light, both the egg and the chicken evolved simultaneously from birds that were not chickens and did not lay chicken eggs but gradually became more and more like chickens over time.

Creationists believe: The Judeo-Christian story of creation describes God creating birds, and commanding them to multiply, but makes no direct mention of eggs.

Hindus: creation of birds (and other life forms) by God through superhuman beings is stated in Puranas and Dharmasastras. If one broadens one's definition of "an egg" to include non-chicken egg, the Hindu mythology also mentions a "cosmic egg" from which the universe as known to humans originated. In this sense this supreme egg comes before all creatures, including chickens and chicken eggs.

Buddhism = There is the belief of the wheel of time which regards time as cyclical and with repeating ages, as some other cultures such as mesoamerican (Aztecs, Mayan) and some native American Indians believe. Their idea of time gives a different answer to the question of "who is first" when combined with the concept of Eternal Return which is well known in the Western culture through the writings of Nietzsche. The assumption is that time is eternally repetitive and therefore, there is no "first" in eternity, there is no creation.

The answer then becomes: None is first. There is no "first" in a cyclical view of time.

-----------------------------------------------

Three old women are talking about their aches, pains and bodily dysfunctions.
One seventy-five year old woman says, "I have this problem. I wake up at seven a.m. and it takes me twenty minutes to pee."
An eighty year old woman says, "My case is worse. I get up at eight a.m. and I sit there and grunt and groan for half an hour before I finally have a bowel movement."
The ninety year old woman says, "At seven a.m. I pee like a horse and at eight I crap like a cow."
"So what's your problem?" asked the others.
"I don't wake up until nine."

Mosquito Summer.

Sheesh!

Mosquitoes are out . We do not have as many as

Ontario, where opening your mouth to talk, can make you a good meal of them.

They swarm like thin veils in the air and people sitting eating in restaurants,

just ignore them.

Ontario, understandably, since there is such an abundance of mosquitoes,

also have the biggest dragonflies I’ve ever seen.

They are about 3 inches long, and they seem to know if you do not belong there cause they charge

And head butt you and it really hurts.

To protect yourself you need a tennis racquet to either make a game of it or head for shelter into the car.

But even facing battle with a tennis racquet doesn’t seem to sway them.

They are extremely head strong and nothing like the beautiful friendly dragonflies we used to play with

on the Richelieu River in Quebec.

In hot weather, you cannot get away without some body odor, and wearing dark colors enhances sweating.

This would be a good time to also avoid lactose products.

Mosquitoes also like carbon dioxide and fly towards it.

We are talking mainly about female mosquitoes since they are the ones who bite.

Used to be mosquitoes were quite noisy and you could hear them coming but now I find they are very quiet and sneak up on you

Until you feel the bite and try to give it a good swat.

By this time its too late cause they fly away unless they are already heavy and full of blood.

Then you are left with this messy red spot thinking eeeeyooo!!!

Does this all belong to me? Or is it picking up other blood along the way?

We can buy products to repel them or use electricity, but if your garden consists of Citronella plants, Peppermint, Cloves, Cedar, Eucalyptus

Catnip and Rosemary, a few small bats, friendly dragon flies, and garden spiders, you might find you have less mosquitoes flying around you.

I guess burning some of these in candles and oil around you, might also repel mosquitoes.

Its either that or wearing a mosquito net from head to toe.

We are lucky here in BC this year, to have much cooler weather as opposed to the 40 degree celsius weather,

they’ve been having on the east coast. Today it was 12 degrees Celsius.

Sometimes we wonder if the two days of sun and heat is all the real summer we will have

this year.

But no matter where you are, your friend the mosquito will not be far behind.

I guess we just have to learn to live with our pesky friends even if we don’t like them.

They do benefit our planet by providing food for a large number of animals in the food chain.

The males drink nectar and there for help pollinate plants

I guess we can let them live………but THOSE FEMALES!!!!!!!

Bow wow! Grrrrrrrrr....On them.

Centering Oneself.

I remember when I was a kid going to school and the Humanities Teacher asked the class a Question.

Where do you find yourself inside you body?

It’s a good question to ask because it zeroes in on the type of person you are.

As I was the first one to answer I said I found myself centered in my chest.

Which I noticed brought the teachers eyebrows up.

The rest of the class said they found themselves in their heads.

Which brought my eyebrows up .lol

We look at man and see him as the same but yet here we find discrepancies which definitely make us all different.

The teacher later explained that American Indians find themselves in their chests, the white people in their Heads and the Chinese in their stomachs.

To this day I find this disclosure to be very interesting in more ways than one, the main thing being

is that I am not of American Indian heritage and yet I am closer to them, than to white people.

Through out the years, I often ask myself this same question just to see if I have changed.

I haven’t changed much.

Although I’ve become a lot more cerebral, My heart, my soul and my very being is still centered in my chest.

I cannot fathom living, without feeling the air swelling my lungs which in turn nourishes my brain so it can direct

the rest of my life.

This is funny since the brain needs to instruct the lungs to breath. Without breath, the brain can’t function.

The Chinese living in their stomachs, is still a mystery to me, since I never think about my stomach unless I am hungry.

But I am channeled to my chest the whole day long.

Even in my sleep I find listening to myself breathing or listening

to a baby or another person or even an animal breathing, to be very soothing .

I have not done any interviews with people to ask them questions on the subject and I still wonder what conclusions

I would end up at had they all given me truthful answers.

.

I think it would be too easy to say that white people are more cerebral and therefore find themselves in their heads as a result.

I was always a serious person who read a lot and I also enjoy food a lot but my stomach is not my center either.

So why am I centered like an American Indian and how many others are there like me out there?

Interesting.

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A man enters a barber shop and asks how long before he can have his hair cut. The barber looks round and replies, "Two hours." The man leaves the shop. The next day the man again enters the shop and asks how long before he can have a hair cut. The barber again replies, "Two hours." The man walks out.
The next day, again at the same time the same man enters and asks how long for a hair cut. Again the answer is two hours. He walks out and the barber asks his friend to follow him and see where he goes. Twenty minutes pass and the friend finally returns in stitches laughing. "Well," asks the barber, where does he go?"
The man replies, "Your house."

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In a Chicago Hospital , a gentleman had made several attempts to get into the men's restroom, but it had always been occupied.

A nurse noticed his predicament.

"Sir," she said, "You may use the ladies room if you promise not to touch any of the buttons on the wall."

He did what he needed to, and as he sat there he noticed the buttons he had promised not to touch. Each button was identified by letters: WW , WA , PP and a red one labelled ATR.
Who would know if he touched them? ;

He couldn't resist... He pushed WW... Warm water was sprayed gently upon his bottom. What a nice feeling, he thought. Men's restrooms don't have nice things like this.

Anticipating greater pleasure, he pushed the WA button. Warm air replaced the warm water, gently drying his underside.

When this stopped, he pushed the PP button. A large powder puff caressed his bottom adding a fragile scent of spring flower to this unbelievable pleasure. The ladies restroom was more than a restroom; it is tender loving pleasure.

When the powder puff completed its pleasure, he couldn't wait to push the ATR button which he knew would be supreme ecstasy.

Next thing he knew he opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed, and a nurse was staring down at him..

"What happened?" he exclaimed. "The last thing I remember was pushing the ATR button."

"The button ATR is an Automatic Tampon Remover. Your penis is under your pillow."

MEN NEVER LISTEN