MY ADVICE

Just when a person thinks they are on top of things something comes along to knock them off their safety perch.  That was me two weeks ago. 

It’s all good now.  Besides my nerves being rankled and the huge chunk of Humble Pie I’ve had to digest there was no harm done.  But I feel like I can’t lay it completely to rest without telling my story.  Hopefully it will save others a similar experience.

I was hacked.

Not the almost every day occurrence of a Facebook friend request from someone I’m already friends with.  I know how to respond to that one – delete the bogus request and private message them (I can do that because we are already friends) to give them a heads-up to change their password.

Neither was it one of the countless emails from “Costco” wanting to give me a big, juicy coupon, or “Sasktel” or “Sask Power” saying my bill isn’t paid, or “Canada Post” saying they are unable to deliver my parcel until I pay a fee.  I know about all of those scams and I delete them immediately.  Knowledge is power - to click on any of those links invites thieves into your computer and your life.  I have fantasised about there being software that allows the target (me) to send code back to the originating computer and have it blow up in the hacker’s face, but as to yet I don’t think it’s been invented.

The one that got me was more sophisticated than that, although hardly uncommon.  When you sit down with your banking representative and say the words ‘microsoft scam’ and she leafs through a stack of papers until she comes up with one entitled Microsoft Scam, you know you’re not the first one to come to her in a panic.  Knowing that you are not alone eases some of your embarrassment at being duped.  Seeing them take charge with what has to be done next is also very reassuring.

It all began with me clicking on what I thought was a news story.  Something about palaeontology, fossilized bones, scientific research – I’m interested in that kind of stuff.  The news story was the bait, and I bit.

SUDDENLY there were a stack of pop up screens in front of me with the top one expanding and contracting rapidly while a woman’s voice LOUDLY warned me that my computer had been compromised.  This was the one and only time they were honest – the pop up warning was indeed compromising my computer.  Everything after that was a lie, starting with the warning “If you shut down your computer you will lose everything on it.”

But with the never-ending loud warning, the spazzing pop up that I couldn’t click away, and the threat of losing everything on my computer, panic set in.  My only hope seemed to be the offered toll free phone number for the trusted name “Microsoft”.  A rational brain would have taken time to think about this but they had me at an emotional level … I called the number.

From there a very professional-sounding guy asked me questions, assured me he could help, and instructed me to check my online banking to see if anything was amiss.  It wasn’t, of course, there was nothing the thieves could do until I revealed my information to them … which I did because I trusted that I was the only one who could see what I was looking at.  He had me do some Windows diagnostic tests to make it look legit.  He told me not to talk about it to anyone until he called back and a whole bunch of other crap I should have known better than to believe.  On the call back he escalated the panic by saying the only way to protect my money was to change it over to a digital wallet (which he was going to be very helpful to set up for me – only I suspect that it wouldn’t have been in my name). 

Long story short, I decided to talk to somebody I trusted and they reaffirmed all the warning bells that were going on in the back of my mind.  Even though the “Microsoft” guy and his associate “CIBC” guy he had forwarded my case file on to had both warned me not to talk to my personal banker that’s exactly what I did … and as soon as she heard the word “Microsoft” she said “identity theft” and we began the clean up.  It wasn’t her first rodeo.  I sure as heck hope it’s my last.

So now, what have I learned from this?  That it’s just another hack to be aware of and that being fore-warned is to be fore-armed.

Since this happened I have taken the time to ask Google about the “Microsoft Scam” and was shown a video on how to shut the pop up down.  I would advise everyone to check it out now so there is no hesitation when confronted with the nasty lady shouting at you when the pop up appears (and you can shut her up by just turning down the volume on your computer – it will help you think clearly).  I’ve also been told that you don’t have to shut your computer down, just unplug your Internet.  What you need is time to think things through.

DO talk about it with others.

DO keep your computer virus scans up to date (although I thought mine was)

DO go immediately to your bank if you get sucked into this evil vortex – they are ready to help you.

And, if you get the chance, create the software needed to trace evil back to the hacker who started it – and have the whole thing blow up in his face.

 

LOUIS

Sad news this morning: Louis is gone.

It’s not that we weren’t expecting it, he was very ill.  It is good to think that his suffering is over, but those of us who loved him must now shift into a new, unwelcome reality.  Mourning his loss with be felt in different degrees – from Robert’s acute pain in the loss of his life partner, the love of his life, to the long-distance sad absence of a friend and brother-in-law for me, plus the multitude of people in between – friends, colleagues, neighbours, parishioners – he touched so many people in his 67 years.

I spent the waning hours of Louis’ life reflecting on how he has enriched mine.  If he were to hear me say that he would no doubt down-play my words, but I also hope that he would take the praise to heart.  The honesty he lived in his life forced me to grow as a person too.  I owe him.

We met when we were just kids, classmates in grade six I think, growing up in rural Saskatchewan in the ‘60s and ‘70s.  You’d be hard pressed to find a more mundane, ordinary existence … school work, family life, daydreaming about future plans.  We lived in the insulated bubble of ‘normal’ our parents provided us by keeping awkward topics out of daily discourse, creating a rose-coloured-glasses type of world which neatly sorted people into ‘natural’ and ‘taboo’.  I can’t imagine what it felt like to grow up ‘taboo’.

Almost certainly though, it caused Louis’ growth as a human being to far outstrip mine.  He grew to be an intelligent, caring, sensitive, giving adult.  Conversations with him challenged me to think much deeper than I normally would.  Meals he hosted were delicious and fun.  I loved his sharp sense of humor.  Long before he told us he was gay he had established who he really was – a warm and wonderful human being.  I was so comfortable with these truths that his coming out left me to reconcile what society said about ‘taboo’ people and what I could see with my own eyes.  I had some growing of my own to do.

Not that it was easy.  Societal inuendo, self-proclaimed comfort zones, and outright public fear-mongering left me bouncing between shame, anger and self-righteousness, but I always seemed to end up asking myself “If it’s this bad for me, an observer, what was it like for him to live it?”  With this question in mind it was impossible not to grow.  He was a person of kindness and integrity, of intelligence and education, someone whose voice and laughter sounded just like his mother’s.  This latest piece of information about him didn’t alter any of these well-established qualities.  In the end I realized it was much more beneficial to accept and learn from others than to stand back and judge them.  I have Louis to thank for that.

He lived a full, happy life.  He travelled in his career as an air steward, seeing much of the world.  He even arranged to be in Beijing when we were so that he could buy us supper.  His first career choice was the priesthood and he fulfilled that dream too, serving his God and his parish in his community in Nova Scotia.  But, the happiest, most precious thing in his life was to find Robert and have the solid, loving, mutual support relationship that all human beings long for – and deserve.

All day long I’ve been reading and rereading the tributes sent to Robert and the rest of the family.  One of them came close to what I’ve been trying to say here – that Louis and Robert’s relationship had forced the writer out of her pre-conceived notions and into growth and an awareness she had lacked before.  It’s strange to use the word ‘force’ when speaking of Louis, he was a gentle soul and led by simple example.  In another way, though, his quiet resolve was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

R.I.P. Louis.  We are better people for having known you.

 

SEPTEMBER BLUE

As the kids get ready to go back to school and the combines roar to life the natural world slips quietly into another gear too.  Plants, having fulfilled their destiny to grow, flower, and bear fruit are now letting themselves dry up and wither away (except for cucumbers which are into some crazy kind of overdrive).  Birds gather for massive conventions to discuss their route south and departure date.  There is the scent of completeness in the air – everything is mature, ripe, and well seasoned.  The sky goes from the dazzling bright blue of summer to the soft, powdery, cornflower blue of September.  It’s my favorite.

I don’t know how it happens so fast, but the sun’s bedtime is now earlier than mine again.  How does it take so long for the days to lengthen out between December and June, but the reverse happens in the blink of an eye.

It has been a wonky, crazy busy summer for me - caring for an elderly family member and having grandchildren stay with us while their family was moving.  Thankfully in both cases I wasn’t the only one on the job but it was a real eye opener into being in the middle of the ‘sandwich generation’.  The kids are back with their parents now and we are nearing the end of moving Grandma out of her home and into Long Term Care.  Life is bound to slow down pretty soon.  I hope.

I apologize to my fellow volunteers at Tourism for my absence throughout August.  I know I have been Missing in Action.  It’s not that the place can’t run without me - in fact the things I do can be done by anyone – but I wasn’t there to pitch in as much as I usually am.  By the looks of things everything is running smoothly, proving that I am dispensable.  We are close to the end of the season now and I will be there for the close-up jobs unless something drastic happens.

This might sound crazy but the best thing that happened this summer is that my vegetable garden was a complete failure.  The spring was so late and wet that I didn’t get it planted till the middle of June.  And, even though it had been worked several times the soil was the consistency of muddy bricks.  The potatoes struggled to get through the surface.  I got the other seeds in but then we had another deluge.  It stayed so cold that germination was dismal … until the heat turned up and every seed out there exploded with life.  92% of them were weed seeds. 

By the third week of July the corn was only a foot tall, stunted peas weren’t even in bloom yet and only a few yellow beans had made an appearance, the green beans hadn’t bothered to germinate at all.  I found enough beets and carrots to keep, but instructed the guy with the tractor and tiller to “make the rest just go away!”  I also put in an order for a substantial soil remediation project with straw and manure to be worked in and weed control tillage to be performed on a regular basis.  If it’s successful I may regret my request.  My 2023 garden might end up being a bumper crop and I’ve kind of liked the ease and luxury of just getting garden charity this year.  Oh well, I will worry about that when the time comes.

I’ve checked the long-range forecast – if it’s true there are no frost warnings in the foreseeable future.  There are a lot of farmers out there breathing a sigh of relief for their late crops, but my interest was to see if it was worth fertilizing my deck planters one more time.  They got one more dose.  Hopefully I will have blooms to enjoy for a few more weeks.  There is no better place to sit in the cool of the evening and watch the hummingbirds fight over sugar water.  They will be gone before the flowers are – we have gone from 10 to 7 to 3 this past week.  One morning in the near future there will be none and summer will be officially over.

But, while it lasts, I am going to try to soak in the softer September sun, listen to the crickets while I hang out the laundry a few more times, and enjoy that the grass is still green and soft enough to walk in bare feet.

 

LIFE. AND DEATH. AND SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN

I’ve had a lot of time lately to sit quietly and think.  That’s what you do when visiting a very elderly lady in the hospital.  Sometimes she is awake and up to visiting, but a lot of the time she drifts off to sleep, and I stay a bit longer and think about things.  Like life.  And death.  And where she is … somewhere in between.  Well, in reality we are all somewhere in between, but at almost 102 she is much closer to the end than most of us.

Over the past year or so, as her health and strength went into decline, we have had many conversations.  The ones I liked best were the rare occasions she would tell me stories I hadn’t heard before.  She was born in 1920 and came to this area to teach in the early ‘40’s, marrying my husband’s father in 1945.  I would have loved to hear more about this period of her history but conversations never seemed to go that way, as if that time was so long ago it wasn’t important any more.

Instead, I would get snippets like “I enjoyed raising my family.” Or “Larry was a happy baby.”  Sometimes I could steer her into a few more minutes on the subject, but not often.  Her comments were just little windows into the fleeting memories going through her mind.

One beautiful warm day this spring I offered to take her for a wheel chair ride around the block and for once she actually said ‘yes’.  Her hearing is very poor but her eyesight is phenomenal.  She spotted some lilacs so I took her over and we picked some.  She wondered what on earth all those pink birds were doing in someone’s yard so I explained about the “You’ve been flocked” fundraiser going on in town.  I wasn’t sure, between her poor hearing and the out-of-the-ordinary concept of the fundraiser, whether she understood what I told her but when she spotted another flamingo covered lawn on the next block, she pointed to it and said “There’s some more of those pink birds.  They must be making lots of money!”  She could be sharp as a tack one minute and quite lost the next, though.  We were on the street where she had lived for 30 years yet she didn’t recognize it. Going around that one block was all she was up to even though she was in a wheel chair.

The high point of that adventure was stopping for a few minutes to watch the school kids at their track and field day.  “I used to really like that day.” the former school teacher said, her voice wistful.  Times gone by; another brief window into her soul.

She has been strong and fiercely independent but it’s obvious with this hospitalization the days of living on her own are over, she will be going into respite until a permanent placement is available.  This was not in her plan.  Her most fervent wish is to ‘fall asleep and not wake up’.  She is angry and disappointed that this is not happening for her.

I am reminded, as I sit and watch her sleep, of a time when I railed at the unfairness of Death’s timing.  My first husband died in a car accident on the same day that an elderly gentleman with dementia wandered out into the winter cold in only his pyjamas.  There was no rhyme or reason, no justice, and no sense to a young husband and father dying while a sick old man was found and brought to safety. It wasn’t fair! 

She is experiencing the same frustration from the other side.  She doesn’t want to be here any more.  Why is she stuck in this failing body and now being sent off to unfamiliar surroundings?  This is just as unfair.

Many years ago I read a story that compared our lives to a tapestry … the colors, the textures, the flaws, and the worn bits all signifying the joys and sorrows, the struggles and triumphs, the bad choices and subsequent recoveries - all merging to portray our individual life spans as works of art.  I think of this from time to time and hope that my scene is full of bright colours and worthy texture, and that many of my threads are tied into other’s tapestries connecting me to the people I love.

Today I visited with my mother-in-law and thought about her tapestry.  Our conversation this afternoon was me encouraging her, trying to help her see that her life may just become more interesting because she won’t be isolated in her own home any more.  There will be people around her, she will have her own space for privacy but meals will be a time of community.  That we will come to see her.

 I may have gotten through to her because she gave me a smile as I left.

At almost 102 we all know that her tapestry is almost finished. She can’t have too many threads left to tie off.  I sincerely hope that the ones she has remaining are the color of love and as light as gossamer.

 

 FUN BETWEEN THE RAINS

Being the fickle human being that I am, I want all this rain to go away so that I can mow grass and pull weeds.  Last year I was asking for more rain so that my grass would grow lush and green and the sun wouldn’t bake my garden to brick because that makes pulling weeds too hard.  This year I wander my yard in rubber boots and pull only the weeds closest to the edges of my flower beds because stepping in any farther would mean losing those boots.  Oh, the irony of it all. 

Gardening season this year appears to be a disaster; germination of vegetable seeds is dismal, germination of weeds seeds exponential.  The trees we planted and watered faithfully last summer are probably now drowned out.  It’s so depressing I don’t even want to go out and check on them anymore.  I would love to mow the lawn but I would need an amphibious mower at this point.

Luckily this past week or so I have had a welcome distraction – a family reunion. 

The decision to have one was made three years ago, but it didn’t come together. Then again two years ago, but you know, Covid.  We came even closer last summer but couldn’t find a campground big enough to let us socially distance.  Finally, right after Christmas I was commissioned to write an invitation e-mail and we set the wheels in motion.  Come July 1^st weekend 2022 we were gathering in the old home town and catching up on a whole pandemic’s worth of family time.

The months rolled along and from time to time there was chatter within our messenger group about who was able to make it and when they would be arriving and leaving.  The excitement began to build.

Then there were only a few weeks to go.  I was put in charge of fine tuning the reservations at the campground.  One would think that the chairman of the Tourism Board would be able to handle this job but, no, there was a mix up and it was all my fault.  Maybe catching Covid was a contributing factor, who knows, but I squeezed that in too, just for the fun of it. 

Thankfully the double-booking dilemma ended up resolving itself, and maybe my family has learned to put someone more qualified in charge of camping reservations next time.

The last week of preparations got more intense each day.  There was firewood to gather and load, house guests to prepare for because not everyone has a camper, and multiple day’s worth of food to get ready ahead of time so I could visit when they arrived.  Also, I had my afore-mentioned side gig of Chairman of Tourism going on … fireworks, kid’s crafts, parade details.  Never a dull moment.

Ready or not Thursday arrived, people started rolling in, and the fun began.

The weekend itself is a blur of too much food, not enough sleep, the right number of cold beverages, more food, lots and lots of visiting, missing the ones who couldn’t make it, not enough sunscreen, snacks and treats between meals, a fair bit of reminiscing about the last time we had all been together, and all kinds of advice for the young couple about to become parents for the first time (no need to thank us, we were glad to help out, lol).  Oh, and did I mention, way too much food?

Some played ball.  Some Played golf.  Some rode their bikes and some went for pie and ice cream.  There were dogs to walk and runs to the grocery store to make sure no one starved to death between snacks.  There was even the redneck run out to the farm to view baby piggies, after all a proper host has to give those city kids the full rural experience … and by ‘kids’ we are talking ages in the 20 to 30 year range.

The weekend is over now and the travellers are all home, safe and sound.  I’ve even managed to use up my leftover food, and if it would ever quit raining I could do laundry and hang all that bedding out on the line.  It was super gracious of Mother Nature not to rain on our parade … or the fireworks … or the ball tournament … or the campers.  I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

Now I just wish she could manage another dry spell so I could get some yard work done.

 

 

MY WEEK, SO FAR

I guess my week’s adventure probably started on Saturday night, but I was unaware at the time.  So unaware.

Since it has finally quit blizzarding, and raining, and hailing, I’ve been pretty darned busy out in my yard and gardens.  My bedding plants needed transplanting, the grass needed mowing, the weeds needed to die, plus there were tree replacements to get in the ground at the campground and a yard sale to prepare for.  It’s just been one day after another, getting stuff done - all work and no play. 

So, when I was invited out to a community event on Saturday night I thought “why not?”  I could use a break so I accepted.

Sunday dawned – the day I had vowed I would get my vegetable garden planted.  The soil had been tilled many times but it was so wet that conditions were not good – instead of soft, fluffy dirt I had the equivalent of broken bricks to work with. But, time was ticking by and the seeds had to go into the ground.  It was a long exhausting day but I got the job done.  As I texted to my Farmer …. Halle-le-freaking-lu-yah!  I put my tools away and called it a day.

Monday’s jobs were taking care of some business things in town in the morning and mowing grass in the afternoon.  I had some serious sneezing spells late in the day but blamed it on the poplar fluff.

Tuesday I woke up aching from head to toe.  What did I expect? Sunday’s gardening had been a long and grueling day.  Ignore it and it will go away.  I had weeding to do in my flower beds.  Keep on trucking, old girl: there’s work to do!

Except that I just couldn’t.  It was warm out but I needed a jacket.  I actually lay down to watch the noon news and fell asleep.  You have no idea how rare this is – like the ‘never’ kind of rare.  When I got back up I decided I would take it easy for the afternoon and just do some computer work.  I had to give that up eventually because I was shivering so bad I couldn’t type.  What the heck was going on?

I decided to check my temperature and dug out the never-been-out-of-the-box digital thermometer I had bought in March of 2020 – you know, in case we needed it, but we never did.  It still didn’t click what I was likely dealing with.  My temperature was only slightly up, but it occurred to me that I did have another test at my disposal.  Why not do a Covid test too? 

I did the test, watched one line appear, congratulated myself on being negative, and lay down for a second nap on the same day!  I awoke to a second line and the truth an hour later.  I had the plague, after all.

I mustered what strength I could, wiped down all the common surfaces I could think of, dug out the masks, moved myself to a different bedroom, and changed pillow cases for the Farmer.  They are not done seeding and he does not have time to be sick (or so I’ve been told).  I went to bed with my new best friend Advill.

Wednesday is a blur.  More Advill.  More naps.  Sleeping fully clothed with extra blankets.  Coughing.  Coughing.  Coughing.

Thursday: I made it to 10:30 before I required Advill and I did manage to vacuum the house, do a load of laundry, and get something into the slow cooker for supper so I’d have to say things were on the upswing. Also, a dear friend delivered soup and buns to my deck table – she probably saved my life.

Even so, it was off to bed with Advill and a new box of Kleenex by 8:30.  When I’m done, I’m done.

Friday dawned clear and bright.  So far I only require a light jacket to keep from shivering.  I haven’t taken an Advill all day (it’s noon).  Not only that, I’ve finally mustered the oomph to bring in two water jugs from the car (coffee is an amazing incentive) and I’ve wandered around my gardens to see which of the weeds pose the biggest threat of taking over my world.  I don’t have the energy to do anything about it so far, but I want to be prepared.

 I do believe I’m going to pull through.

I can’t imagine what It would have been like without being fully vaccinated – oh wait, maybe I can … I would have ended up in the hospital and maybe on a ventilator, if not worse.  As it is I stayed home, required no medical intervention, made a new best friend in Advill, and it only took three bad days. I still have to shake this cough so I’m giving it a few more days before I declare it’s really over, but I think I’ve got this beat.

The jury is still out on if I need a nap today, or not.

 

FORWARD MOMENTUM

I woke up this morning and lay there reluctant to move.  Last week was full of places to be, volunteer missions to accomplish, and consulting and planning to get Tourism’s summer season off to a start so that I could dedicate this week to my own season opener work.  There is so much to do this time of year and the weather conditions have not been making it easy.

But, there is no use wimping about it – if I want to relax in the midst of pretty lawns and gardens during the summer I have to put in the work in the spring.  I had invested heavily (this sounds more responsible that saying ‘went wild and crazy’) at more than just one local greenhouse and all these pretty things needed to get outside where they could grow and flourish or my money would be wasted.  Thursday morning I got up, fortified myself with high octane caffeine wonder liquid, and dug in.  This is not a figurative term – in the past two days there has been a lot of digging going on.

I got a lot done that day.  It’s good to build up momentum while your muscles are unaware of how far you are going to push them.  For starters I finished filling my deck planters – that sounds simple but there is a lot of heavy lifting, soil mixing and walking involved with that job.  When my Fitbit informed me that I had already reached 10,000 steps by 10:00 in the morning I reconsidered my choice that it was wasteful to use the quad for all those little trips.  I didn’t know how many steps I actually had in me.

Besides, by that time I had tripped in a gopher hole while delivering a part to the field across the road – there were no immediate ill effects but at my age I know how that goes.  Walking back to the house I pondered which injury was going to cause me the most pain; the hip/knee fall or where I hit my hand with the hammer driving in a stake to mark my row of tomatoes. So far, it’s a tie.

After an early lunch I tackled the lawn.  So far this year it’s not a big job – a good portion of it is under water.  But it did take long enough to prove that sunscreen would have been a really good idea.  I have to relearn that lesson every single year. 

By this time my body started to complain, as I knew it would. I eased off on the physical stuff and instead stood in my greenhouse trying to imagine where all these bedding plants would do the best.  Deciding ‘the plan’ literally takes as much time and effort as planting does, but at least I could do it standing still.  Which, of course, was a mistake – standing still robbed me of any momentum I had left.  If the walk back to the house had been up hill I don’t think I would have made it.

Bravely I turned down the temptation of a glass of wine (the exact opposite of high octane morning go juice) and got supper in the oven.  There were still a few more things I had to do before dark … feed the heifers, pick asparagus, do a little bit of push mowing, and see if my little tiller could stir up the mud in my lower flower bed.  I made the animals happy, gathered asparagus, and prayed that neither the mower or tiller would start.  It’s a cruel world – they did.

The rest of the day is a blur; we ate and went to bed.  The fresh asparagus was delicious.

Day two was all about putting out bedding plants, hand tilling places that can’t be done any other way, kneeling, standing, walking, forgetting what you were going for, remembering when you get back, going again, and being sent off to town for a part again (My apologies for anyone who witnessed me in my gardening attire.  There was a time when I would have changed for a 15 minute town run; this rule no longer stands.)  I didn’t reach 10,000 steps until 1:33, obviously I had slowed down considerably but quitting is not an option.  The rest of the day was spent plodding forward and texting with my sister, comparing gardening progress and making sure we were both still upright.  We both got done what we wanted to before the rain – yay us!

There’s till more to do … veggie garden if it ever dries up enough to get out there, and back to volunteer Tourism stuff … more flowers and trees and painting … but that won’t be today.

As I mentioned, this morning I spent some time assessing aches and pains before actually moving.  My husband tells me that it’s easier to count the things that don’t hurt rather than listing the things that do.  So far today – 10:21 – and I’ve only made 1,072 steps.  Considering that my body has informed me that it’s on strike, I’m doing fine!