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Dear Debra Kristi – A “Dear John” Letter From Thor

We have so many new visitors to the Women’s Unplugged blog, and since I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING new to share with you all, I decided to repost an entry from Oct 2012 when one of my WANA-mates, Debra Kristi, sent her Thor doll on a world tour and he stopped by my house, sobbing…

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My dearest Debra Kristi,

Oh how I miss you … let me count the ways. I miss your wonderful smile and the bubbling joy of your laughter.

Sept 6:
Dear Debra KristiI am miserable without you but have arrived safely in England for my visit with CC MacKenzie. Let me tell you a little bit about that sod CC. To ease my heartache, I called her Mum, but instead of cuddling me to her breast, she told me to man-up, then forced me to pose in her greenery. You know how plants make my eyes water and my nose run. I miss your care, dearest Debra. May I call you Mum when I return home?

Oct 1:
After a long lonely journey across the vast ocean, I have reached the shores of Canada and entered Lisa Hall-Wilson’s domain where I’m fighting for my life…and my dignity. Remember the days when you tickled my tummy and called me “your boy”? Oh Mommy, dearest Debra, when will this torture stop so I can come home?

Oct 8:
From the Great Lakes to the Prairies, I’ve arrived at my next destination in time for the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. Unfortunately, I’m stuck in a post office bin, freezing my tushie off. <sob> I’m so lonely for your arms!

Oct 9:
Am finally at the Seabrook residence. No doubt, you weep for my safe return. Serves you right! I’m sucking it up, being your brave boy and dreaming of the day when I’m once again nestled in your arms. Sheila took me to town where we got massages. Separate rooms, of course.  Even though I’m mad at you, I would never cheat on you, my dearest Debra. Goodnight, my love. Dream of me and I will dream of you. {photo deleted}

Oct 10:
My heart still aches for your smile, my dearest Debra, but this morning I woke muchly refreshed and decided I may never speak to you again. Next trip, you’re packing your bags and I’m staying home. Sheila introduced me to my new neighbors whom I’ve nicknamed Babs 1, 2, and 3. While the fireplace warmed my feet, the three Babs read me Sheila’s latest release Wedding Fever, a spellbinding tale of lost love, buried treasure, and a ghost that will steal your heart. Best story ever!

Oct 11:
Today, I wiped you from my mind and spent a lovely morning writing in quiet solitude with my new BFF Sheila, then headed out to visit with her mother who, incidentally, let me call her Mum (take that CC MacKenzie!). Mum served me milk and cookies and called me HER boy. I may never leave…

Oct 12:
Today Sheila showed me her rock quarry, in case I wanted to wield Thor’s hammer, but seeing as how it’s a wee bit nippy out there, I chose to stay inside and spend my time with Babs 1, 2, and 3. I’ve made the decision to extend my stay at the Seabrook residence, maybe indefinitely. Not that you’ll even notice I’m gone.

Oct 13:
Just time to dash off a quick note. Dear Debra Kristi, I’m in heaven and am writing to tell you that I’m moving on. Please pack my things and send them to the Seabrook residence (address enclosed). Sheila has promised to make me feel like one of the family. I’m in love!

Oct 14:
We had brussel sprouts for supper tonight, Debra. You know how I hate those green things. It’s like I’m eating feet…

Oct 15:
The men here are sissies. Apparently I’m expected to wield the vacuum with the same finesse I wield my hammer.

Oct 16:
My dearest, darling, beloved Debra … Please forgive my peevish attitude of these last few weeks and take me back.

Oct 17:
The honeymoon is over. Last night, I escaped the Seabrook house and made it as far as the corner post office. Although my box is securely taped shut, I live in constant fear that crazy Seabrook bitch will discover my betrayal and force me back home to wash her floors and dust her cobwebs. I live for the day when you and I are finally reunited.

P.S. Have I told you how much I love you? And I promise not to call you Mommy … ever!

P.P.S. I’m digging through the post office mail, searching for a U.S. stamp so I can mail myself home. I’m about to commit a felony, all in the name of our love. If I get caught, please promise you’ll come visit me in jail. Sheila will certainly give you directions.

P.P.P.S. Unable to locate the proper postage, I’m resigned to continue my journey to the western coast of Canada. But first I must hide the evidence of my betrayal. I have burned this letter along with all the other letters in the post office. I’m unharmed, thanks to my protective shield.

P.P.P.P.S. As you can see, I really didn’t burn the letter. I’m saving it in case I change my mind. For now, the mailman has arrived and saved me. North Saanich, here I come…

Your loving he-man, Thor

How I Lost 10 Pounds On My Summer Vacation

I’m back and so glad to be here. It’s been an incredibly busy summer that started out with us packing and moving the in-laws from their apartment into a senior’s facility. They didn’t need to do much downsizing because the spaces were comparable in size, but their move inspired me to continue to clean out the accumulation of “stuff” that one collects over the years.

As we packed—and packed and packed—I kept thinking that I don’t want to put my boys through this. Better to get stuff sorted and recycled and discarded BEFORE it’s time to downsize.

Fragile-packing-boxThere’s also the fact that the older we get, the harder it is to make changes in our life. At 95 and 86, my in-laws were resistant to the move. They didn’t want to leave their apartment. They didn’t want to part with anything. My father-in-law kept packing and unpacking and repacking the same box, until we’d finally sneak it out of his room when his back was turned, tape it closed, and move it to the pile of boxes so he’d be done with it.

Except when we’d arrive the next day, he’d have opened all of the boxes in his search to find the one we took from him.

On the day before the actual move, I was packing up the last of the kitchen items. When I thought I was finished, I double-checked each cupboard and drawer to ensure that I hadn’t missed anything. Then I opened up the dishwasher…and it was full of dirty dishes that my mother-in-law had been storing there until the move.

My DH says that the look on my face was priceless, a mixture of stunned disbelief and barely contained annoyance. Before a few choice words could escape, I sealed my mouth shut, unloaded the dishwasher, and proceeded to wash and dry all of the dishes so I could pack them away for the movers.

The packing ordeal lasted three whole weeks. Three weeks of hot, humid weather. Three weeks of sorting and packing, unpacking and repacking. Three weeks of digging deep and discovering more patience than both my DH and I thought we ever had.

Thankfully, it’s long over now and the in-laws are still adjusting to their new place. On the day my in-laws moved, my mother went in for her knee operation, which I’ll tell you all about next time. 🙂

Bake-Love-Write-coverDuring my in-law’s move, I lost 10 pounds, a nice bonus considering I’d been trying to lose those 10 pounds for about 10 years. But now I’m sure I’ll gain those 10 pounds back this winter because of the BAKE, LOVE, WRITE Cookbook: 105 authors share their favorite recipes and advice on love and writing.

You should check it out. Maybe buy copies to give to your friends and relatives as gifts. My Banana Nut Bread is in the book along with a pile of mouth-watering recipes that will make you want to spend time in your kitchen. And then, of course, there’s the advice on love and writing that each author shared.

When was the last time you packed up and moved yourself or someone else? Did you love it as much as I did? Or are you looking forward to the next move?

Gone Fishing

Right this moment Sheila would rather be fishing, despite the fact that fishing is about two-million-one-hundred-and-twenty-eight on her bucket list.

Or hanging here.

Or reading a good book.

Or finishing the developmental edits on her upcoming book.

Instead, she’s hanging at the youngest son’s new farm, a paintbrush in one hand, cleanser in the other.

Check out her recent adventures on Facebook, then make her day by popping over to her Author Page to give her a Like.

If the painting and cleaning are finished — which they better be! — Sheila will be back in three weeks. Until then, enjoy your summer!

When It Rains, It Pours

No, this has nothing to do with the weather, although this summer we’re getting our fair share of rain. No, this post is about family and life and how easily serenity erupts into chaos.

For the last few months, I’ve been peacefully writing away, working on 3 upcoming romantic comedies, until last month, when our youngest son injured his back.

Shortly before the injury, he’d made an offer of purchase on a farm with a possession date of August 15, which gave him lots of time to pack and prepare. Then he hurt his back, and while chaos erupted with doctor appointments, etc, we knew he would need extra help moving, painting, repairs, etc. So we set aside the month of August to help him out.

Family Farm

The farm where I grew up (not the farm my son bought).

Then my in-laws received a call from a senior’s facility. My father-in-law is 95, my mother-in-law is 86, and since 2012 they have rejected 5 apartments in this facility. With a little extra prodding and pushing, they finally made the decision to move in. It’s a good place. They’ll have round-the-clock assistance if needed, and basically everything else like cooking and housekeeping and laundry is taken care of for them.

I think I want to move there too…

With a possession date of August 1, we started to pack up their household, thankful that they would be settled before our son’s move.

But then my mother got booked in for her knee operation. Date: August 7th. Okay, with good planning, we could have the in-laws moved and settled by then. Except my mother-in-law kept procrastinating about calling the movers. I guess she thought that if she ignored it long enough, they wouldn’t have to move.

Needless to say, by the time I said that I would call the movers, the earliest date I could get was August 7th.

While my husband goes one way that day, I’ll be going another. In the meantime, we’re packing boxes for my in-laws, running my mom to last minute doctor, hair, etc appointments, and helping our son get ready for his move.

That old saying “when it rains, it pours” is true. So this may be my last post until mid-September. I’m just saying, if I’m missing in action, you’ll know where I am.

Now tell me, what fun things do you have planned for your summer holiday/vacation? Please share. I want to hear all about the fun things you all are doing! 🙂

He Said, She Said: The Temperature Wars

Have you ever had a disagreement with your significant other over the temperature in the house? Whether you’re female or male, the answer is probably yes.

For years, my husband has been after me to install air-conditioning in the house. For years, I’ve resisted because I love to open the windows in the summer and let the natural breeze cool the house.

But last month, I finally gave in, and we now have a monstrosity of a unit outside our back door. And that’s when the temperature wars began…

He Said, She Said

He Said: (comes home from work, sweaty and hot) “It’s roasting in here. Why isn’t the air-conditioning on?”

She Said: (wearing t-shirt and sweats, and after a day inside, non-sweaty and cool) “It is. Give it a little while and you’ll adjust.”

He Said: (checking the temperature on the thermostat) “What’s the point of having air-conditioning if you’re going to keep it this hot? What a waste of money.”

She Said: (trying to be understanding) “If it’s set any lower, it’s too cold downstairs.”

He Said: “The temperature down there is only 20C (68F). How can that be too cold?”

She Said: (just the tiniest annoyed) “Trust me, it is.”

Ten minutes later, there’s a significant temperature change in the house. Upon checking the thermostat, she discovers the temperature has been lowered.

She Said: (pulling on a sweatshirt) “22 (71F) is too cold.”

He Said: “How can it be too cold? In the winter 22 is warm.”

air-conditioner

One hour later, she’s sitting in the downstairs family room reading, covered with a blanket. It’s so cold, she has to get a tissue because her nose is running. She heads upstairs to the dining room where he’s playing Solitaire on his PC…

She Said: (grumpy as all get out) “It’s freezing down there. It’s freezing up here, too. The air-conditioner has been running for a solid hour without stopping.”

He Said: (bundled up in a warm sweater) “How do you know? You can’t hear it inside the house.”

She Said: (seething) “The furnace room is right across from me. I can hear it run and it’s not clicking off.”

He Said: “Not possible.”

She Said: (stomping away, heading back downstairs to the good book she’s reading) “I’m not stupid, you know. Go sit in the family room for a while and you’ll see what I mean. It’s so cold, I’m ready to haul out my winter jacket.”

He Said: (actually, he just ignores her, which pisses her off to no end, and makes her regret installing the stupid air-conditioner)

Finally, she goes outside to warm up, but because it’s still hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement, she’s soon all sweaty. She gives up and heads inside, grabs a second blanket and hauls it downstairs…

Two hours later, he comes down to the family room…

He Said: (hands in pockets, looking smug and righteously right) “It’s nice down here.”

Then he goes back upstairs.

At bedtime, the air-conditioner gets turned off. The windows upstairs stay closed because, you know, you’re not supposed to open the windows when you have air-conditioning.

The residual heat from the day is trapped inside the house and the temperature in the bedroom climbs. Despite the fan above the bed, it keeps getting hotter, until she finally heads outside to cool off…or maybe just cool down.

She Said: “Stupid air-conditioner. Stupid men. One of them has to go.”

Do you have He Said, She Said moments in your household, too? If so, I’d love to hear about them!

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