Have you EVER thought about getting a REAL job?

OK so the title says it all... NOPE! Haven't! Thanks! I kind of figure being home for my kids, helping them for 1-4 hours a night with homework, ensuring they have healthy well balanced meals, getting involved with 4-H so they have an opportunity to be part of the community, working part time, running a little "hobby" farm .. (Don't get me started on the word Hobby!) ... is kind of LIKE a real job!

OK back up Sarah! Who do you think you are anyway? Well, let me tell you! I have worked outside of the home. I successfully advanced in the field I chose. I have run my own business. I have worked with children - in a daycare no less! I have commuted for work. I have been unemployed.I have dedicated thousands of hours to my parent advisory council at the school and I have been a stay at home mom. My thoughts? Every one of those options involved me working. 

I started my working life at 11 babysitting, moved up to house cleaning, medical office cleaning, two weeks of hell cooking at A&W, more babysitting, two weeks of hell as a chamber maid in Banff, Alberta, live in Nanny aka crash test dummy in Calgary, three months McDonald's late night drive through, part time office staff in an insurance office (highlight was never getting paid after three months) and finally a real "adult" job working as a Financial Assistance Worker in the government Social Services Department. 

I started working in social services at age 21, rather naive and incredibly shy. However after years of the job, having clients scam me left and right because I was so gullible and working in Downtown East Side Vancouver, to Kitsilano to Steveston near Richmond to Kamloops, BC and all the way back to Nanaimo , Duncan and Victoria... I did grow up. I grew up enough to realize I had a good job, great pay, amazing benefits and I realized I could have some kids that I could actually support. 

Of course none of us know what will happen in our lives. I really thought I would stay in government forever. Yet life seemed to have different plans for me. So after working from May 1988 to February 2004 - with a few leaves during the time... I ended my (I can say it now!) cushy job with pay that has never been equalled and medical and dental to die for. Yes I worked hard there and it was emotionally taxing at times - but 8 years later I have never seen or done anything that equalled the security of that position.

Of course opening a wedding planning and coordination business seemed like a great idea and it was lots of fun. Five long years of plugging away and earning relatively nothing in the winter and working like a crazy woman in the summers did take it's toll on me and the girls. It didn't help that during this time I became a 38 year old widow and single mother of two girls age 3 and 10 with severe obstacles to overcome. 

I look back now and have to wonder how we survived. God was definitely on our side, watching over us and helping us struggle along. I of course made very wise decisions like selling Partylite, Love the stuff! (Not a great choice when you have to decide to spend the last $10 on food or fuel for the car though!) Having said that, nothing like kicking back with a glass of wine and beautifully scented candle burning (we needed the candle to cook the marshmallows!) $14,000 per year for a family of 3 in an $800 townhouse, made for very creative accounting and lots of borrowing from family and good friends that I am proud to say I paid back.

So, since event planning was not enough to survive and Partylite was great for spending not so much earning, I had to find an alternative. I never expected to get a call one day, mid July 2005 to ask me to come work at the Deputy Minister's office in Victoria as an assistant to the Customer Service Manager. (Yes, customer service in social services sounds like an oxymoron, but it was a pretty cool job!) I was stunned this opportunity came right out of the blue and it was very exciting. What was wrong with it? 2.5 hour commute each way to work in a van pool for about $400 per month. (Total of about 12 -13 hours a day away from home.) I needed to hire a nanny to take care of my kids - yup that spelled disaster. First nanny also helped someone else, my kids were not allowed in the house and they were barely cared for. (Suffice it to say that when my baby who had just learned to walk again after critical injuries was falling down the stairs - I knew changes were necessary) and so 4 weeks ended that employee's term. Second nanny, appeared helpful and wonderful until she asked weekly for pay advances, didn't feed the kids and finally after 3 months ended up stealing $2000 from me. Not such a great single mom working experience.

I could go on incessantly, however, Have I EVER thought about getting a real job? Hell ya! Here? NOPE! It is simply not worth it to me to take  job that pays starting wages of $10 and tops out at about $11 hour, work 30-40 hours a week, drive 1-2 hours a day, spend $300 of those earnings on fuel and still have to do all that needs to be done at home. 

I am going to stick with my 2 days a week home maker job, 2 days a week baking/market and seasonal summer time coffee shop. No medical or dental coverage. No extra money, but the peace of mind knowing that I have dedicated my time to my children to help them with homework, learning to cook (should they choose to take the opportunity) and spending quality time with my husband and family. As Mastercard says "PRICELESS". 

So, now that I have been called farm girl and Betty Crocker (which are actually pretty good compliments!) and hopefully explain clearly that I am NOT lazy or refusing to work, simply have different priorities and I know there are no naked starving people living in my house - I shall continue to lead my crazy little farm life. I will continue to know that I have the freedom to take my girls to appointments, help them with homework, yell at them as required and just be a "stay at home mom".  FINALLY if it is not clear, I AM A WORKING MOM! The day I sit on the sofa all day eating bon bons, pulling a Peg Bundy watching soap operas and not taking care of my family - feel free to say I don't work.

Kudos to you working moms! All of you! Staying at home and working outside the home - both are important, exhausting and can really make you say "CALGON take me away!"

One a penny, Two a penny, Hot Cross Buns!

I will always miss family most as a holiday weekend encroaches upon us. I loved gathering together, planning the big meal or going to share it with who ever was in charge of it that year. (I did prefer doing it myself since I would start on the wine as I cooked and by the time the meal started I was happy, happy, happy!) The memories of Len, the girls and I, contemplating who would do what this year, various reactions from family members, who would say or do the most memorable thing and praying that the meal would turn out. Those were the things that made an impact or the event one we would discuss, mourn or laugh about for years to come.

Several years ago, a cousin I hadn't seen for aeons, was on Vancouver Island from High Level, Alberta and she and her husband were joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. I invited any and all family from the area who might want to join us, including my parents of course. Everyone gathered, enjoyed our visit, had a fabulous meal if I do say so myself and then I served dessert. I had baked pumpkin pies, apple pies and apple crisp. I was excited to offer an array of choices and several people had a little bit of each on their plates. I cut and served and was still slicing up while my guests were starting in on their pie.

It seemed the table was a bit quiet and my first thought was, "always a good sign when the table is quiet and people enjoy their food." I then bit into my pie, mmm the pumpkin was amazing! Then I bit the pastry, I literally gagged and spit my food back into my dish. I looked at everyone and said "This is disgusting! How can you people eat it?" Being kind, they said, in a variety of ways, "oh, it's just a bit salty", "I thought the pudding part was wonderful", "Well..." I know everyone was relieved when I told them I would NOT let them finish the pies and removed their plates. We then split the one apple crisp into pieces and had coffee to attempt to wash away the horrendous flavour of my pie crust that somehow contained way too much baking soda! EW!

No holiday or pie can ever be eaten again without my family commenting on that memorable meal or complimenting me on my immense improvement of my culinary and pastry skills! Family meals at holiday times, yes I miss them, salty pie? Not so much!

I am working hard in my "new" life to do things in a way that are more eco friendly and put less stress on my environment. Hence our Easter egg decorating fiasco. I continue to read blogs about how to dye eggs the natural way and see Facebook posts that explain how to make your natural dyes from things like onion skins, blackberry or beet juice and spices such as Tumeric. So, I set off to show my girls how to be more environmental while continuing on with a long standing egg decorating tradition.

I decided that since we had to boil eggs, (I had saved some so they would peel better and weren't too fresh  - the gases around slightly older eggs allow for easier peeling.) I had found a recipe on a blog, 2 cups water, 1 Tbsp vinegar, 1 cup of the fruit or vegetable juice, cook for 45 minutes, cool, put your boiled eggs in the water for a half hour. So I proceeded to boil up some mango dye and some blackberry dye. The kids couldn't quite get where I was going with this thought. I boiled a dozen green Araucana eggs.

I put everything on the table and started peeling eggs. My girls, 10 and 17, asked me what on Earth was I doing? I said, dying the eggs, the natural way. I then plopped 2 peeled eggs into the mango dye and 2 peeled eggs into the blackberry dye. The girls said, "now what?" I said, "Every few minutes roll them over and in a half hour they are done, cool, eh?" They asked, "How do we decorate them?" Me, "Well, you ... don't...?" Them, "Ya, mom, THAT's fun!" Me, "What???"

Stock Photo, Can't take credit!

OK so apparently, like chemical dyes, when dying Easter eggs the environmentally friendly way, you DON'T peel them! You DON'T use green shells when you want the dye to stick! You do leave them in the shell and dye then decorate, duh? OK so apparently (I did re-read the blog) they did NOT explain this... I don't know! Dumb and Dumber: Dye Easter Eggs in Fosterville... Starring "Sarah Sherman!" Quite the laugh! I boiled MORE eggs and we went to Len's shop to get some real paint so they could at least TRY to create the traditionally dyed Easter egg! (Not one of my brainier moments... Yes, this will be up there with my salt pie and discussed and teased about for YEARS to come!)

Since Good Friday was a holiday the local Woodstock Farm Market was open so I had to bake for Thursday market instead of Friday. This year, I must say, (patting myself on the back) that I believe I perfected the Hot Cross Bun! I made a triple batch and sold out! Now I have to make some for our Easter dinner! Market was good for a Thursday and the weather has been quite nice albeit a bit cold at night. Today however, they are calling for snow over night so I am not too sure how tomorrow will fare.

Can you say YUMMY?

The plan for Easter Sunday? Church breakfast at 8:30am (we will see, it's a bit early), Easter service at 10am and then home for Easter egg hunt and treats followed by a traditional Easter Chicken (passed on frozen turkey and bought a fresh chicken) with all the trimmings including gingerbread cake, hot cross buns and our creepy decorated eggs (those may be passed on as well!) 

Yes our little family, continuing on with new traditions. Rachel only has one more Easter before she officially moves out and may or may not come home for every holiday. It is too strange to think about not having my children with me for every holiday meal.... So, as Scarlett O'Hara says "I will think about that tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day."

Happy Easter everyone! AND special thoughts and Easter wishes go out to my family in Coalhurst, Alberta, who lost their father, my uncle, yesterday morning after a brief battle with illness. I am thinking of my Aunt Agnes, Cousins Barb, Donna, Doug and Leah and their families and wishing you all beloved memories during this difficult time. 

Thinking about their loss makes me wonder, when will I see my parents again? Will I be with them when it is their time? Will I have many more years to tell them I love them? Even though every family event held a little bit of crazy, a pinch of bizarre and a dollop of drama... It was a recipe that created an armful of love and beautiful memories.

We spent many summer holidays, with our camper parked in my uncle's yard, as we made the obligatory family visits across the city and province. I always felt welcomed by my Aunt Agnes and Uncle Curt and their kids. My older cousin Doug would tease me mercilessly, but I always liked it. Cousin Leah who was older and more worldly would show me the ropes as I looked on in awe. Donna and Barbra were often busy with boyfriends and then husbands and children but I always felt close to them and found them to be so much older and wiser than me.

Many an extended family gathering with all of my aunts and uncles was held in their home and it is where we all gathered to commiserate after our beloved Grandma Giesbrecht passed away. Dad, Uncle Bill, Uncle Dave, Uncle Abe, Uncle Peter, Aunt Annie, Aunt Eva and of course, Aunt Agnes and their husbands and children - we all knew we could go to Aunt Agnes . 

Those were my formative years and although our families grew older, drifted our own ways and had less contact, they were my wonder years. Aunt Agnes, my cousins, your family home holds warm memories in my heart. God Bless You All and I wish Uncle Curt peace and no pain as he moves along his journey.

One of the last photos of my Grandma and her surviving children.
From left to right:
Aunt Agnes, Dad, Uncle Peter, Uncle Abe, Aunt Eva
and in front, Grandma Giesbrecht
Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of Uncle Curt
PS: Not sure that Aunt Agnes will be happy with me, so don't tell her I posted this!
HAPPY EASTER and GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

Good bye Simba... Hello Saint John!

Cable Bay Ferry - Kingston Peninsula

How can so much and so little happen in the same month? I have now officially been to Saint John that seems to border several rivers as well as tho world famous Bay of Fundy. It was shocking to discover   the ferries are FREE! No, minimal fee, no reduced passes for locals, but FREE! What truly stunned me when we crossed the   Kennebecasis River,  the ferry that took us across to the Kingston Peninsula was what my new goat friend called a "Bubble Ferry" ... it does not freeze up ALL winter! It is on a pully system actually it is called a "cable bay ferry system" and it pulls the boat across the river. It looks like one of the small BC Ferries but the only means of transport is the pully and it appeared only one employee was required on each boat to make the crossing. A ferry is kept on each side so the crossings are continual all day.

I felt like it was 150 years ago, when travellers came to the river and the ferryman lived on one side and pulled the ferry across for payment. It was kind of exciting to imagine that old Buddy the truck was my horse and wagon as we floated  across. I posted a picture of the two ferries almost side by side as they cross and a picture of the numerous FREE ferry systems in New Brunswick. You know, for being one of the poorer provinces, the Ministry of Transportation sure has it's "poop" together! BC could learn a thing or two! (To the BC'er's this is NOT a slam against BC, I think we all know that some improvement could occur on the BC Ferry systems, especially for the smaller islands for the full time residents and interior rural locations of BC.)

The trip to Saint John was for medical reasons and it took us almost 3 hours to get there in old Buddy, along our windy bumpy country roads, out to the highway and then  the highway to Saint John - seemed like an old highway, which could be wider in places and definitely use a little repair. Overall not bad, seeing so many watch for moose on highway signs were kind of freaking me out! I didn't know the area and wasn't sure of what to expect... So yes Anita, I am sure I could have made it faster, but limped along watching the fuel tank get lower and lower.... It was an incredibly expensive day trip.

These days whenever I am travelling somewhere I try to include some eggs and/or baking sales. So I advertised and was able to get some giant sticky bun sales and Mediterranean bread to deliver. (Hence the trip across to the Kingston peninsula.) I also try to do any livestock sales or pick up while I am at it.

As you may recall, little Simba, the baby Nubian goat born to Freya at the end of January, was scheduled to move to a petting zoo in Moncton, but alas, the day before the transfer the deal fell through. The buyer's wife had obtained a full time job and was no longer going to open a zoo so they didn't need Simba. I told them, life happens, plans change and wished her luck in her future endeavour. Very kindly, they mailed me a Tim Horton's gift card - which was sweet... Sweet - mmm, donuts! Coffee! AND it paid for Rachel and my food for the day on our trip.

However, we still had to sell Simba and he was re-listed on Kijijii with the hopes that he would be bought as a pet or breeding buck - but knowing he may be meat. Fortunately the day before we headed out a buyer called. Let me say, he was a bit of a twit on the phone. He tried to chisel me down in price, which I expected and which is why I listed Simba for about $20 more than I expected to get. My main problem was this man's attitude, he was belligerent and mouthy - however, I surmised he was only trying to be funny - in his weird way.

Having made the deal and needing to leave Fosterville early, Len helped me pack up Simba in the dog crate and load him onto the back of the truck. Freya was NOT impressed. She had never been without her baby since he had been born and she sounded soooo sad.... Simba was nervous and whenever I had to stop for gas or coffee or to pee, he cried... Muuuuuum! MuuuuMMM! MUUUMM! He sounded like a tortured baby in the crate behind us. Rachel and I felt awful all day!

Well, we did laugh, as we found and wound our way through Saint John (happy to have Maggie the GPS guide us) ... As people looked at us... we said "Don't worry! We brought  our OWN goat!" It made us laugh and we contemplated going to the dollar store for a dog collar and walking him nonchalantly along the street.

We  tried to park in the hospital parking lot which was difficult since I couldn't see well to back the truck up and pull into tight spaces and the canopy made it even harder to get it right. It didn't help though, as we parked, got out of the truck and opened the back windows to ensure Simba had air ... for him to cry. A guy (kind of cute!) was two vehicles away and looked at us with curious eyes and a hesitant voice and asked , "Is that a GOAT in your truck?" I answered, "Of course! We brought our own goat!" Rachel laughed, almost hysterically and ran across the street to get away from me and the ultimate embarrassment.

Having travelled to visit a medical specialist we expected we might be in the hospital for an hour, but by the time we were done, it was almost three hours. We were so worried about Simba! How would he be? Was he OK? He had never been away from mom and only ate grain or drank water when  she actually shared with him, would he be... alive? It seems I over worry, yes, true story, I tend to worry more than necessary.

We came back to the truck and half a block away heard... MUUUM! MUUUUUUUUUM! It seems he had survived. Since there were other people in the parking lot and construction workers about three car lengths away, Rachel grabbed the keys and got in the truck to hide. I,  calmly, with confidence, walked back to the truck, opened the tail gate and pulled the crate forward to pet my goat. I attempted to give him some of my water but he would have none of it. I pet him and explained the appointment had been longer than expected and I was sorry for having made him wait. I knew it was tough being away from mama and... Then, I looked up, ALL of the construction workers were looking at me and ... laughing?

Freya and Simba
A few days before
 he moved out

I looked at those guys straight on and said, "What? Have you been listening to my goat bleat?" The men, mid 40's, been around the block, look at me and say, "We didn't think it was a goat... we thought it was a baby, so we checked." Me, "Seriously? Like I would keep a baby locked up in a crate in my truck for three hours!" They sheepishly looked at me and laughed. I guess for the babies of the world, locked up in crates, in the back of trucks, in hospital parking lots, it IS good they checked.

We finally find the sell location for my buyer  to trade Simba for cash. The fellow complains I am late (ten minutes - we got lost.) He then tells me to put "the goat" into the back seat of his car. I thought that was weird, however according to goat people, this is used as a method of transportation at times. I turned to Rachel and told her, you get the money and I am going to hug Simba good bye and pass him over after he is paid for.

Well, the buyer starts to get cheeky again. He hands me $45 and says (as I look into his bulging wallet) that is all I have - basically take it or leave it. I advise him, I will leave it, the deal was $65 and I already came down to that from the original listing. He says, "Well you don't want to take him home again." Me, "Oh I don't mind. Or you could walk over to that bank machine and get me the money." Him, "Fine!" as he pays me. I then took Simba over to the front seat and handed him to the guys' wife. She seemed nice, poor, rough around the edges, but kind. That was all that mattered to me.

As they drove away, my daughter and I looked at each other and felt sad. Poor Freya, what was she going through now, missing her son? How would Simba be, would he eat or drink? Well, after about crying for five days until she almost lost her voice, Freya seemed fine. I am going to get her a friend though and perhaps they can both have baby does next year so I don't have to sell them or eat them.

We left and headed to Saponetta Divino and met our new friends Marla and Diane and their seven lovely pet goats and started to feel a little better. (Click the link and check them out.) They are building their business making and selling goats milk soap and products and it is divine! (I bet they do mail orders!)

In the meantime I am milking Miss Freya and only getting about a litre or so a day and feeding it back to her or the chickens or the cat. Meanwhile I am deciding what to do with the milk. I am planning to make cheese but with my limited funds I don't have all I need to get started, including a stainless steel bucket. Now, I need to run, make more bread to sell to buy a bucket so I can make some cheese!

Dear Anonymous, I hope you enjoyed this and I am sorry I have not written for awhile. Things have been kind of busy but just a bit tough for me financially and a bit emotionally. Time to get off my butt, back on track and being positive! Thanks for the little boost!
Sarah

Sing it if you understand. and breathe, just breathe...

My blog title today comes from the song by Anna Nalick, the lyrics are about love and are hauntingly beautiful...

Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe, just breathe,
Woah breathe, just breahte

There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout
But you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
These mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.

I am applying these lyrics to parenting a tormented angry teen... Please tell me this is normal! Please reassure me it will change... ah, on one hand she is defending my honour regarding a cruel comment made by another... the next hand and Whack! she manages to deliver a zinger herself! My head reels with hurt and her head spins like the exorcist! Now that I have wiped the pea soup off the ceiling  I am able to formulate my thoughts once again. 

The days of cradling her head in my hands are through. Now  the most I might get  is a hug every now and then or a heart with an I love you on  my Facebook wall. I do know that she loves me, she needs me and is in conflict with her genetics, hormones and history. My plea to God, her angels and the universe: Let her move forward; Break from the past; Learn to like herself; Learn that there is more to to life than what she sees right now; Leap forward with excitement, enthusiasm and expectation; Know that the world is your oyster, you can slip and slide in the slimy stuff or look for those bits of sand that will create your pearl... You are a pearl and one day you will see that.

In the meantime, I slog through the mire that is adolescence and bask in the moments of light and joy and I breathe, just breathe during the angst and drama. It will end. It will improve, it has to! I have too many friends who have waded through the swamp and emerged through the mist on the other side. 


Fortunately I have a giant Pyr who thinks he is permanently a puppy, a curious cat who is afraid of missing anything and a  bleating goat who enjoys talking to me, they all allow me to sit in the barn while they surround me with sniffs, cuddles and the occasional lick. I also have a ten year old who watches her sister and models behaviour, some positive and some negative, although she still needs to  be tucked in and cuddles me on the couch!


Time to organize some of my chaos and maybe my husband will see this and bring me in a brew, eh? Have a good weekend and remember, breatheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Crazy days... slip, sliding, away!

Winning 1st Prize
 in their division

Miss 4-H President
 making introductions

Now, I was going to go into a great deal of detail about the 4-H club and presentations we had last week or about the major snow fall we had last night, but ... really, who wants to hear about any more snow? AND... besides the parents, who really wants to hear all the detail about our 4-H kids, amazing as they are? I decided instead, to share a story of my and Len's Friday afternoon experience with the New Brunswick health care system. I know we are all still laughing and hope that you will get a chuckle or two too!

Len has a bad back and hip with 5 compressed arthritic discs and although he has suffered from it for a few years, lately he has been unable to sleep, walk and the pain has become almost unbearable at times. Since we live so far from town and only go once a week, the day our doctor's office is closed, we decided that since he needed x-rays we would go straight to the hospital and go through the non-emergency process at emergency. It sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

Well, true to form, the next 4 hours were spent with many bizarre and hilarious moments... Since we were in Woodstock for the Farmer's Market we decided to head to the hospital in Waterville afterward which was about 15 minutes further down the highway. My friend had mentioned that there is a doctor in the hospital who had an office and would take patients on a drop in basis.

We entered the lobby and we were greeted by a hospital volunteer who is available to show you around, lead you to the area you are headed or help find you information. This elderly fellow was very friendly although looked at me confused when I said "We are here to see a doctor, who works downstairs, I think his name is Dr. Mactaquac?" He continued to smile, although puzzled now and said he didn't know the name. I admitted, I MIGHT have the name wrong, but it was something like Dr. Mac....? He told us he knew the name, but now that I had completely screwed it up he couldn't even think of what it was. It turns out it was a Dr. MacElwain and he only worked mornings... so back up to emergency for service. (It turns out I knew the word Mactaquac because it is a place in NB that we pass on the way to Fredericton.)

I decided that since we were at the hospital and I was due for some blood tests next week, maybe I could save a trip and get it all done at once. So I sent Len off to sign in at emerg by himself and I headed off to get my blood work done. Amazingly I was in and out of the lab in about 15 minutes and rejoined Len in emergency. When I arrived he was in triage with the staff.

When Len came to sit down we knew there would be a long wait ahead of us so I got him his puzzle book and I settled in for a nap. There were a few women with little children who were ahead of us as well as an elderly gentleman who was very sick and was triaged ahead of everyone else. One nice thing about the Waterville hospital is that it is out of the city, rural and quiet. So it was easy to settle down and relax.

After about an hour into my nap, I heard a loud, belligerent clearly disturbed fellow in the waiting area. He was attempting to communicate with the two year old near us but instead he seemed to be tormenting the poor kid, who in response curled up into his grandmothers arms and started to quiver. The lunatic (we quickly realized the man likely had a combination of drug, alcohol and mental health issues) was loudly and angrily telling the child that the Montreal Canadians hockey team sucked and forced his baseball cap on the kid. We knew the afternoon was taking an interesting twist.

I woke up and both women and children had been taken in to see the doctors and we now sat in the corner with the mental man (ok I have to call him SOMETHING!) verbally abusing his poor old mother and grandfather, disturbing other patients and generally being disruptive. I do have to say that it was rather amusing at times...  Clearly  we learned, via the discussion that the man was unemployed (surprise) and looking for employment. Apparently he was expecting offers from the hospitality industry, uh, ya, ok... We tried not to laugh, out loud anyway,  when he tried to explain to his mom why he had damaged his knee and attempted to avoid the discussion on why his shaved head was all banged up.

His mother kept pushing the issue about his head, saying that he must be "on something" since he couldn't tell her why his head was bruised and had a goose bump on it. He finally told her, (honestly, I am sure we could all relate to what happened) ... Last week, he was walking and he slipped... no, not on the ice, but on his chowder. Yes, you see, he was eating clam chowder for dinner, of course he had to have two cans and he slipped, well, it was the chunky kind you know? Yes, he slipped, in his chunky chowder, slid across his apartment floor and since he had a pot in his hand he hit himself in the head... I mean really, we have all been there, right?

At this point Len is shaking, turning red and trying to hold in his laughter. His eyes were welling up and the long wait began to get more fun. Mental man's voice continued to rise, sprinkled with obscenities and colourful commentary. After 2 hours in the waiting room we were now (thankfully) called into the ER room.

The nurse went through a list of questions while we waited for the doctor and Len decided to stand after sitting so long. Then... the doctor arrived. The tall Asian doctor (yes his culture is relevant to the story), entered the cubicle... he wasn't even through the screen when he looked at Len and asked his age. "Are you weally 70? I am wooking for a 70 year old man." Len confirmed, yes, he was Mr. Sherman, he was 70 and yes he looked good for his age. The doctor walked past Len and semi-layed on the bed as he continued to talk to us. He was very taken with Len's look, physique and general healthy appearance. Finally, accepting that Len was 70 but could be taken for late 50's... he turned to me and asked if I was Len's daughter... (followed by laughter) um, no, I am his wife.... He then smiled and said "OH! I know why you look young!" with a smirk at the end.

He asked Len several questions about his back and while Len was bent over, his back to the doctor, butt in the air, the doctor said "How is your peepee and poopoo?" I tried to contain my laugh, Len thought he heard wrong and said, "WHAT?" The doctor repeated, "Are your peepee and poopoo ok?" Now Len is smirking, "yes..."

The doctor saw Len's boots, chicken shit and all and then interrogated us about how organic our food is, what kind of chickens we have, the farm market, etc... As interesting as that was... we did want to get home today.... At Len's request x-rays were scheduled.

This of course led to the next fiasco... At the hospital, they have "guides" who lead you to and from x-ray. An elderly limping woman, walked up to Len and asked if he could walk or if she should get him a wheelchair... he walked. (The woman was in worse shape than he was.) At x-ray Len was instructed to change and then he went in for the imaging.

While the woman and I sat to wait, I learned in about ten minutes, the following: she fell 2 weeks ago, she was off work sick and just returned yesterday...(Me: oh you must have fell bad. Her: No, I was off for strepthroat...?) I learned she was a 3x cancer survivor (amazing!) , I learned that she had 5 sons, 2 had passed away, I learned... well, let's say by then end I wanted to get her address to mail her a sympathy card! Crazy!

Upon returning to the cubicle, we heard more from mental man, who by now had been assigned his own security guard since the nurses were not impressed with his behaviour and the doctor was refusing to treat him. Why you  may ask? Well, because he was in a week ago for the same thing. Yes, he hurt his knee a week ago, had x-rays and was treated... The doctors asked what happened this time. MM: "I don't know doctor... you see, I was drinking... next thing I knew..."

Ah! Life in the big woods! Never dull, never boring! We now know for certain the following: Don't waste time going to the doctor to take 3 appointments, 3 long trips and 6 weeks to accomplish what you can get done at emerg in one afternoon AND if we get really sick... We are headed for Fredericton!

Now, time to see if my invalid husband has shoveled the walk before the snow plow comes and if he would like some lunch. Poor little guy!