00:27 - 10.05.06
dreamin'
I spent most of yesterday dealing with my grand-daughter dear diary. Much as I appreciate your warm and caring presence in my life, I'm afraid she comes first.
Left home just after lunch to catch the bus. Met one of the young men in the community who has helped out with elections at my stop. We sat and discussed Canada's role as a peace-keeping nation. What most Canadians don't seem to realize is that we have had troops stationed all over the world ever since the UN began such missions and that that is in addition to our NATO commitments. We also talked about the security problems I've had to deal with in some of my assignments and the ties that seems to have to other criminal endeavours. He headed off to work at the office near the train station, while I headed for the stairs across to the train platform. I haven't tried climbing those long winding stairs at the train station for a while, but I managed ok; thanking fate for a windless, smogless day. Downtown, I popped into Chinatown quickly to replenish some of my herbal supplies. When my oldest last visited I had given him the last of my White Flower Oil. He had bruised or cracked his ribs at one of his jobs and found that it really eased the pain a lot. What else is a mother to do? Emerged from that one store just in time to catch the connector bus that would take me to the neighbourhood in the south of the city where my son lives with his wife and daughter. Through downtown to the main southern shopping street, where I gazed at all the second hand bookstores with longing as we passed them. Past the north/south freeway and the hospital ending up near the naval museum. Explain that odd phenomenon to tourists. Our province is one of only two land-locked provinces in the whole of Canada. It can be explained by people like my Mom's Dad who was in the army in World War II. His job was to oversee the loading of ships in the port of Montreal during the Battle of the Atlantic. My grandfather, by the way, was about 5'10" and 98 lbs soaking wet. Putting him in charge of the stevedores still doesn't make sense to me, but he did have a sense of humour that probably helped a lot.
Just down from that museum there is a second hand store that we all love. I was still a bit early for the time that was set for me to arrive at my son's home. It had only taken me an hour and a half so far in travel. That store carries old comic books, records, movies, books, and toys/figures/games paraphenalia from the '70's through 80's. It was like walking into a toy store when my sons were small - looking at Chewbacca and Han Solo dolls next to Spiderman comics. The difference was the price. Then those things were staples, because they cost so little but gave so much pleasure to my sons. I'm certain they would still please my guys, but I'd have to take out yet another mortgage in order to afford the current prices. The reason I popped in was the discussion I had had with my youngest a couple of weeks before. We were discussing the Matrix. I stated that it was just a jazzed up remake of Tron. Huh? Well I thought all the boys had seen it, given how much they enjoyed that Disney movie. When I described it to him he did recall some things vaguely. I thought maybe I could find an old VHS version in that second hand store, because it is reputed to have "everything". Apparently not. Although the nice young fellow who was savouring his McD burger, agreed with me on the seminal nature of that story, and who even stopped his lunch for a bit to commend me for my search, his comment was that it had long been out of print and would likely be impossible to find - even in such antique forms as VHS. Pity.
Headed off to my son's home, taking a scenic tour of their neighbourhood just so as to orient myself a bit. Anywhere I go I like to know what facilities and structures are nearby - that and I wanted some coffee. I could have grabbed a cup downtown, but food and drinks aren't allowed on buses. Most times the drivers ignore that rule, but I didn't want to find out by being banned from entry you see. Besides that I would have been setting a bad example for all those school kids who were munching and sipping - right? On the way down one residential street I found a perfect house for me. Purple and white in perfect proportion. A petite two story on a large well treed lot with a high white picket fence. When I asked my son about the price, he said it was likely going for two or three times wht my home would sell for. Bummer.
The reason I was visiting? It was my daughter-in-law's birthday and they needed a babysitter. Missy has never been out of their sight, so they were both nervous about leaving her. I told them to take their time and not to call home. They left at about 4:30 and returned home about 10:30, so I guess that means they trust me. Missy and I walked for about four hours while she fussed. I think I would rebuild a lot of stamina and muscle strength if I looked after her all day. Poor little thing knew I wasn't mommy or daddy and she cried real tears. I felt really guilty for causing her distress. So what's a grandmother to do. I turned the TV on to the pre-school network and that seemed to please her somewhat. She wouldn't go to sleep though, so I turned it off and decided to sing lullabies. Worked like a charm. She worked hard at trying to make the same sounds and then her eyes would close. As long as I kept walking and singing she stayed asleep. Started crying as soon as I stopped. What did I sing. Olde English ballads and lullabies mostly. Folk songs from the sixties that I had learned when I sang in our school choirs. "How Many Roads", "Tom Dooley", and "Puff the Magic Dragon". The trouble I had was remembering the words. It's been a while since any of the boys would tolerate me singing to them. The olde ballads were the ones I had memorized from Joan Baez's work "The Ballad Book" - the old Childe Ballads. They had been my favorite growing up. Missy liked "Silkie" and "The Trees They Grow High" best and those are the ones where she tried to sing along too. She also liked Amazing Grace and Minka. I even recalled a couple of songs I had learned in Russian in my choir days. Couldn't get my mouth around the gaelic though - my lungs just aren't quite up for it yet. She hated the buddhist chants and my son posited that it was because it was too close to the Bardo and she probably didn't want to hear that right now. Whatever. When he drove me home we discussed music and parenting. Of course.
Today was a little lower key. Just spent time with my trainer. We were discussing gardening. That is her favorite avocation and she really should have her own consulting business. What she knew and could help me figure out was amazing. In addition to traditional English herb gardens, she also had a good understanding of traditional Asian meditation gardens, Feng Shui principles as they apply to plants, soil and water, as well as gardening for the 51st parallel. Even better she knew the best economical ways to acheive the layout I wanted. Even with things I thought would be way out of my expense range she had ideas that would allow me to do it for next to nothing. If I can be patient, Grasshopper, I may even be able to do it for less than a 10th of what I had expected. That was a very happy way to end the day. Good night dear diary.
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