I always forget about road rage. The good old divided highway, two lanes one way, two lanes the other way, green forest in between. When you move across the provinces this is not the case everywhere.

In Ontario, on average near the city there are twelve lanes. Six for each direction. there are three for express travelling distance. Then another three called collector lanes for getting on and off the highway. If you need to get off at the next exit, you need to plan.

In New Brunswick, we have the fast lane and slow lane. You are suppose to drive in the slow lane, going into the fast lane to pass. Our speed limit is 110km/hr, there 100km/hr with loss of points, hefty fines and cameras taking offenders pictures. Their highway moves half a million people per day.

It is the Indy 500 there! If you have on your cruise control and go to pass, you better accelerate. They will be in your backseat and flashing their lights, horn blaring. If the construction sign says lane closed, people not just stay in the lane till the last second, I seen someone go onto the shoulder to pass the guy waiting till the last second to cut in front of them. Cutting someone off is standard, they get on the highway and if you can’t let them in, they come in anyways. I watched two cars at accerlerated speeds chase each other to continually cut each other off. Cars get into the spot behind the car in front of them where there is no draft and sling shot past just like the races! I prefer to watch the races in my livingroom. There is alway the car, the one that is a pretty colour and a really loud engine, that sneaks in and out from between cars to get two spots further then they just were.

When there is a car on the shoulder you are to get over into the left lane when passing, they are very serious about that there. I watched a OPP officer step onto the highway pointing at cars and thumbing them to get over. Pretty scary to step into the lane and command with your finger! People know the rules they just don’t follow them. I watched a poor ambulance going through the city and eighty percent get out of the way. Sure hope the other twenty percent wasn’t related to the poor soul they were trying to get to , to save!

Traffic can be bumper to bumper for miles, be sure to fill up your tank, and pee before you leave. I had forgotten about all that. I get irratated when the light takes too long to change. When you need to get over here, people let you and you wave to them like you are related. They don’t make eye contact there, lucky if you get a signal light, your wave is the middle finger! When I lived there, I took the subway, and now I remember why!

Social media is packed with mask and vaccine statements. People are so fired up with their feelings. So much division! Maybe we could just all get along!

I think that one of the issues is the loss of control over the term of this Pandemic. We are a free nation, and then there are people telling us we have to. We have choice, but there are restrictions in place for if you have or haven’t. It changes constantly, some people are not good with change. Opposing opinions are rampant right now. They differ across the world, from province to province, country to country. Experts weigh in on everything making it confusing. Media is sensationalizing everything.

Everyone is sharing their thoughts, tunnel vision. I’m not much of a debater in a public forum. I think what I think. I do what works for me. My job is to be responsible for me! My nature has always made me see both sides of the coin. I am not a specialist, or expert, I am not educating anyone. Face to face conversations I state my opinion. We are entitled to one. Dictating to one another your way or the highway makes nothing but more mess.

Like everyone I want Covid to be over. I want my family intact. I avoid the news, but it still reaches me, everyone talks about it! Keep your fingers out of your eyes , nose and mouth! Be safe friends, be safe!

My favourite seasons are summer and fall I am in my glory right now. I have a pool and I love the beach! Summer brought with it the promise and hope that COVID may finally fade into the background.

I relish in the longer days, and better sleep. It always seems my whole life is on hold until summer. Visiting, day trips, adventure and peace, the music is on, my house is clean. My calendar will seem a little less empty and unscheduled and unfilled, my heart will be full. One with nature my mental health will improve. I guide my days however I want.

The nights get crisper as we head into September. I love throwing all the windows open, hanging out bedding, and long walks in the evening. Usually I would have plants to harvest this time of year. My garden didn’t survive this summer. I produced two cherry tomatoes and one green pepper! Maybe next year.

Winter is okay but the cold gets me, the shorter days, crappy roads to drive on, blah. I hibernate in the winter. It really doesn’t do anything for me. Everything seems forced, I could probably just stay under my blankets until it is over.

I will take what we have right now. Enjoying these moments, breathing in the smells, enjoying the sounds. Peace.

Pictures tell a story, they help us remember, they take us places. I do genealogy and to find a picture is like buried treasure. When I visit family, I love to pour over photos, unlocking the past.

Photos create a mental map to emotions. They make us feel. You can freeze a moment in time. I like the unfiltered moments. Photos without filters, no poses, old school candid shots.

Photographs are like mile markers, identifying places and times in our minds. I have so many albums, and I still print photos. My phone has 7600 pictures on it, sometimes I use them to help me remember what year something happened. I like having access to my photos at my fingertips.

Some of my favourite photos are not the staged ones. There is one of me and my grand daughter but she is a baby and it is just our toes. Another is of my daughter nine months pregnant and she is walking along the ocean edge looking down.

My husband doesn’t have many photos of his childhood. There was a fire and and precious photos were lost. His dear Aunt who has passed away was able to get some to me and I am able to finally see his childhood. Zero baby pictures, such a loss.

I ran around with a camera when I was a kid, and my kids ran around with the video camera when they were kids. Our lives have been well documented. I hope our future generations will cherish these pieces of our past. Going forward I hope they print out photos. Not just pass around a phone, physical prints to leave behind, for the future to enjoy.

Today is our 34th anniversary. We have been together for 35 years. I met my husband when I was thirteen. There was a local arcade that we all hung out at, his initials were the high-score on every game.

My best friend and I had secret names for all of our friends based on Muppet characters. His was Animal. He would tear into the arcade on his ten speed to the back of the store and slide it around sideways with the store owner on his heals just a hollering. He would be the guy walking around with a huge ghetto blaster on his shoulders, that’s probably what happened to his hearing.

He was always full of energy and still is. He could do a backflip from a stationary position. He could put his hands on the back of a park bench and lift his legs straight in the air. He could kick up in the air and hit the top of the door frame. We would all go to the bluffs, everyone would take the long winding path down but he would be down them in four jumps, leaping over our heads. Animal, yup!

This man is exactly what you see. He will tell you exactly what is on his mind, he doesn’t mince words. He makes us all laugh, hard! He gives his whole self to everyone. When he snow blows or cuts the grass, it is not just our yard. He would give you the shirt off his back. When the kids need something, he is on it! He is so social and knows everyone.

Life is not perfect but we have a system, he is always right and I am never wrong. His energy is still high gear, he has traded the back flips for cartwheels and could probably out play the grandkids.

We always joke about renewing our contract around our anniversary, the deal has been sealed once again. So much love to my forever partner!!

We are embarking on a journey right now. One we have done numerous times over the years. So many mile markers have memories attached from over the years.

Some I have no recollection of, a place we stayed to catch some sleep or a newly completed highway. There always seems to be fog in the same spots. Incomplete construction is pretty much a guarantee.

We always have good intentions of driving straight through. We have done it before, but recovery robs some vacation time away. We trade off driving time, he knows what parts terrify me, I know when he is getting tired. The music plays almost the whole time.

We talk about previous trips, the year our son could get out of his car seat, our daughter getting motion sickness. Once my daughter was getting so hungry she grabbed her dads hair to make her point! All the times we made the trip at night so we didn’t have to listen to the three of them fight.

There is always the review of the near miss accidents we have witnessed. Or even the ones we see on the way. Whether it be back home or our arrival, there is nothing sweeter than reuniting with the ones you love!

Women need women. For sharing, for sanity, for venting. Book a date for coffee today with a friend. We don’t know how much we need it until we do it. It is so hard to find balance and time. But to have balance you need to make the time. Then use that time to talk the hard talks, and to tell the long version.

The network of information we have, the empathy we carry is the best social network around. If you can take off your responsibility hat too and truly relax, that is even better. Almost like a little bit of childhood given back.

My sister in law, myself and our husbands went to Niagara Falls once. The boys were the voice of reason, but the mom hats came off….those hats had been on our heads for a very long time and we had such a memorable night. So much laughter, we still talk about it!

It gives us a chance to see what it’s like in another person’s shoes. Just like heads of corporations, brainstorming solutions. We see value in each other, lend our listening ears and be a sounding board for ideas. Simple or complex situations, you can feel truly heard.

This is no discredit to our families. They certainly do all these things. This is just to add perspective, and remove the bias. You can only gain so much information about dementia, rashes, ulcers, from within your family because your exposure is the same. Sometimes outside the box, is better for gaining alternative solutions for our lives.

I believe in the human race, one race, and we all lend to the greater good. I wasn’t aware of a divided world until I started school. My Kindergarten class was very diverse. My two first friends in school were from a different country, Mozambique and Korea. We ate our juice and cookies together, played, sang and laid together during quiet time.

My parents best friends were a white and black couple. Their girls were my first friends, and still are. We were walking home from school and their oldest daughter started crying, she said the boys behind us called her a Zebra. I was seven and she was five, I didn’t get it. Far worse things in the world to be called. She had to explain to me, that it was because she was biracial. These boys were probably in grade six, and I remember being totally dumb founded. Then I remember being furious, that they looked beyond the person to find fault. I chased those boys with my little seven year old self and threw rocks at them for a block!

My parent’s other good friends were my babysitters. They were from Trinidad Tobago, they had three kids and their father’s voice was like music when he talked. On the weekends we would get together and they would make dishes of food hot and spicy. Their boys would talk about differences all the time, they were older. I remember my dad would have deep conversations about it with them. I wish I could remember those conversations, what I do remember was the visual. The boys were always wrestling, my dad was a big guy, not tall but like baseball mitts for hands and 26 inch arms. Dad would hold out his arms and they would climb him to see if he could hold their weight. My father’s knuckle got grazed in the ruckus and he showed the boys and said, “See, we all bleed red.”

I don’t see colour, I never have. When people start their negative conversations about other nationalities, that little seven year old girl is in there. I try to keep the rocks on the ground.

Beach, waterfalls, sunrises, sunsets, paths in the woods, nature. It encourages even breathing, self reflection, inner calm for me. Ocean sounds play every night to go to sleep on our google mini. I picture myself in a small cottage, a giant kitchen table, a wall of books, a fat wood stove, and steps to the ocean.

There is a comic I used to read and one of the captions said, “Happiness is a wet thumb and a warm blanket.” That is nature for me. There is something mystical about nature. My camera roll is infused with pictures of cloud formations, water views, and breathtaking sights. I look at them and feel the energy, I want them on canvas on my walls!

My poor husband can barely have a conversation with me when driving towards a sunset. The window is up and down a thousand times, to get the perfect picture that actually captures what I see. The wind has almost blown my camera out of my hand to compile these scenes. If there is such thing as a previous life, I wonder what I was that has me so compelled to freeze these moments of beauty. We use to take the kids on day trips, trails, museums, hikes and forts. Things that I wanted them to feel not just do.

On the human side, I also love geneology. Before the internet I would take the kids to the library and pour over census records, army records, marriages and births. Then I would visit old churches and graveyards to verify facts. It is a giant puzzle that when the pieces fit, it is so satisfying. Many early mornings I am on Ancestry.com filling in data, drinking coffee, chasing the sunrise. Peacefully starting my day.

Grammie had eight kids! She was not your average Grandmother. She swore, she could get hopping mad, and her baking was perfect. She was so animated telling a story, laughing or crying before it was done. She was dominate, fierce, strong willed and very dramatic.

I may be scared of bees because of her. I was five, when I was playing with Grammie’s neighbour’s little girl. We were playing Hide and Seek, and it was my turn to seek. I was against Grammie’s house counting and a bee came out from the wall and stung me in the corner of my eye. I know why it is called sting! Off I went wailing into the house and before my mother could even reach me, my Gram stormed over to get the story and assess the damage. She gave out a battle cry and rushed outside to find these terrors that harmed her Grandaughter! She discovered where the were going under the tarpaper on the outside wall and she tossed her slippers at their home. Of course they were none to happy so they started coming out at her. No word of a lie, she raced back in grabbed her lighter and the kettle, went out and set the tarpaper on fire. There she was screaming and swearing the house was on fire and put it out with the kettle. Not traumatizing at all!

She had five boys and three girls. That is one short of a baseball team! When they lived in Havelock, Gram used to walk across the back field to get the milk from the neighbouring farm. The kids were out back waitng for their Mom to get back. When she was halfway across, a moose stepped into the field not far behind her. Well of course the kids started screaming to warn her and the boys ran to get the gun. Gram set off full tilt across that field, would not drop the milk, racing the moose, screaming and cursing the whole way. Now there are variations of the end of this story. The short version is that the boys fired off a warning shot into the air, Grammie went down still holding the bottles upright. The moose took off, they helped her the rest of the way and then got the switch for taking out the gun.

One of the last times she was over to my house for tea, my other Gramma was here. My other Gramma, was like most Gramma’s, proper, soft spoken, passive. The two of them started talking about grandkids. Then the birthdays came up and my soft spoken Gramma was rattling off dates as she was very keen on remembering everything. Gram was getting agitated by this attention to all these details, she jumped up and said, ” oh yeah, but can you do this?” and proceeded to run up and down my hallway!

I could write a book about the stories of my Grandmother! She loved hard, her hugs could cave in your ribs! Miss you Gram!