This hot air corn popper came in with donations at our homeless centre. I immediately wanted to take a photo of it!
I was instantly reminded of a neighbour from long ago. She was a beautiful young lady, a girlfriend of a local doctor.
She came knocking at my door and asked to borrow my corn popper.
I like being neighbourly, so I showed her how to put the corn kernels in the chamber of the machine. I explained the butter was placed in the removable dish at the top.
I cautioned her a second time as she scooped it up not to put butter in the chamber of the machine.
She knocked on my door the next day. Oil dripping from the popper onto the hallway floor.
I exclaimed, “I told you not to put butter in the chamber of the machine!”
“I didn’t!” She responded indignantly, “I used white margarine.” All I could do was retrieve the destroyed corn popper from her greasy hands.
Am I stressed right now? Heck YES.
I am in Amherstburg at our little house, adding the finishing touches to our financial report. We hope to mail it out on Wednesday.
My brother runs into the house, yelling, “Call 911 somebody just cut his hand off!”
I was horrified thinking my brother meant my husband, and in his anxiety couldn’t say who the injured party was.
It is not my husband. I thank God when I see he is running behind my brother to offer help.
I also have run out of the house and already dialled the emergency number. The operator is on the phone. She wants to know the exact address, and I am telling her I am rushing, despite my asthma to the neighbour’s house.
I arrive and find the injured man has had his injury wrapped by another man. The dispatcher tells me an ambulance is on the way.
A man, whom I will guess is a family member screams at another neighbour and me. “Get out of here. We don’t need an audience.”
The lady beside me says, “I’m a Personal Support Worker I just came to offer help.”
I say to the man, “I just called 911.”
Another woman, I also think is a family member tells me the hand was not wholly cut off.
I realize these people are traumatized and leave the scene.
I hope the man will be okay. I’ll end this with a prayer for him.
A large crucifix was donated to our Street Help Homeless Centre of Windsor.
We attached it to the doorway leading from our dining room to the kitchen. Some folks commented it was a rather crude depiction of Christ but, I felt it was folk-arty and deserved to stay in place.
I had not paid attention to detail and had I done so I would have noticed there was no door stopper. It was inevitable the crucifix would slam against the wall causing the plaster cast of Jesus to lose his head.
Many ideas, including mixing more plaster and slightly elongating the neck to carpenters glue were suggested. I thought we should go along a different path. Ultimately we removed the remaining pieces, and the end result was astonishing!
A volunteer remarked the cross was odd without the figure of Jesus attached. I smiled and said to her, “In reality, Jesus is no longer on the cross. I think it is a great visual Easter message.” She said to me, ” I like how your mind works!”
Another donation of a crucifix came in the other day. We have put a door stopper in place to protect the new image of Jesus. We will establish a place of honour for the vacated cross, along with the words, “As our Lord Jesus Christ no longer hangs on the cross, so does this cross depict.”
Albeit late, Happy Easter everyone!
Sitting at my desk typing and from the corner of my eye, I see a free-floating donut! I look leftward and see my friend’s daughter has developed a unique and simultaneous process for consuming donuts while using a keyboard.
The young girl said, “It’s okay to type with one hand but, I’d rather invent a way for donuts to float. My typing speed would be much faster!”
I’ve learned from movies, and television shows that canaries often died in the mines in days of old. The reason for this is if the canary died, it was too dangerous for humans to enter – poor little canaries.
I have a love for both indoor and outdoor plants all year long. My husband lovingly calls my window ledges crowded with plants my forests!
A few years ago we rescued two adorable cockatiels the owner had named Rocky and BooBoo. We have become very attached to them, so it is no wonder I became concerned when recently the birds started munching away on my plants.
I looked up which plants were safe and which were poisonous. I expelled many from the reach of these two little plant vandals out to our house in the country. Of course, I don’t mind them eating their fresh salad!
As spring has almost sprung, it has become time to start the edible forests that will be transplanted outdoors when the weather permits. It is fascinating to watch the tiny seeds sprout into micro-plants that will, in a short time produce delicious veggies for our table.
My curiosity of safe-for-cockatiels plants inspired me to look up all we have planted so far. Imagine my surprise to learn that parsley can be deadly for our birds! Deadly?
This information made me hand the tiny treacherous shoots to my husband, who took them to our house in Amherstburg where they will be banished until they can be brought outdoors for transplant.
I’m not a scientist but I ponder on the fact that the gas in mines can snuff out the lives of birds, yet humans have no concern about eating parsley.
Some of my research online has led me to other pages that say spinach is also deadly as like in parsley there is a thing called oxalic acid. When birds ingest too much, it can be fatal.
I’m not taking any chances; these two veggies have got to go!
This is a photo of the original disco ball that hung in the bar I danced at during 1978 – 1980! How I acquired this treasure is a great story.
Approximately 8 years ago I was able to rent the long-closed Olympia Disco bar for our Street Help Homeless Centre of Windsor. Charlie, who would later sell the property to us was amazed to learn my history with the bar he and his wife had operated.
I’d told Charlie how I had been a young single mom, who didn’t drink much at all, but I’d loved to disco dance. I’d fallen in love with the beautiful disco ball that graced the dancefloor of his establishment.
I’d briefly dated Tom Coklow, one of his DJ’s, who sadly is not with us anymore. I also would meet and marry a young man, an aspiring rock and roll drummer, who frequented his place. That was a marriage that would last a short ten years.
Charlie enjoyed my memories of happiness dancing under that disco ball, and he was inspired to gift it to me!
For 5 years the treasured mirrored ball sat, gathering dust until my husband, Barry Furlonger and our friend Dan Druer hung it in our industrial-style loft apartment. (We do still have our little house in Amherstburg, but it is too difficult for us to travel the 45-minute drive back and forth each day. Also, it just doesn’t feel safe to drive at night nowadays.)
We haven’t installed the spinning mechanism, but we will soon. Once we do that installation and put up the lights to shine upon it as it rotates I will update this post with a video of the disco ball in full glory.
How precious is it to acquire a much-remembered and cherished piece of memory? It is wondrous!