Wedding anniversaries

If August is a month for birthdays in my family – myself, an aunt and my mother all within 4 days – it is also one for wedding anniversaries.
 
My parents married in 1945 and their first trip to Europe was shortly after their 30th (they ended up having 53 years as opposed to my 25 !) and the picture that I took of them in the gardens of Evian, France was and will always be one of my favorites.

I often have moments of serendipity and after having looked for this photo off and on for many years, it fell into my hands just a couple of days ago – in time to post it on what would have been their wedding anniversary.

Emma and Bruce Aitken, Evian, France September 1975

The weird and ...

The wonderful

So this egg is the first time that I have seen such a weird pattern - not at all round and smooth. Does this mean that chickens can have difficult births? Or did they slip in a fertilized egg? In any case I chose not to crack it, not to boil it - too afraid of what I might see.

Continuing my series of weird medical issues... an allergy? An insect bite? Have done the hot salt water route; anbibiotic creams; starting to go down.

I never realized that these lovely green "balls" actually hid blossoms!

Ah the beauty of rain drops on my balcony awning as the sun went down...

Life supplies us with many weird and interesting sites - we have only to open our eyes.

They don’t make things the way they used to…

Is something that one hears frequently. Planned obsolescence on hoovers, irons, large appliances. There is a bit of a movement to repair rather than simply dump because the handle broke off, the fuel ran out or a nut or bolt fell off, but by and large (printers being a good case in point) it is cheaper to simply dump and buy a replacement.

We have gotten somewhat used to the idea, but it really hit home the other day.

I had driven up to the village for my morning coffee (currently way to hot to move more than two feet at a time physically), enjoyed the chats and having picked up my mail returned to my car. The clicker to open wasn’t a problem, but when I went to put the key in the ignition – bingo – no key!

I retraced my steps – nothing, I looked in and around the car, still nothing. Finally had the brilliant idea of dumping out my handbag into which I throw my key (gently) in order to not loose it. And there it was – the whole key bit had broken off.  Getting home was a trick as of

Course just putting that bit in the ignition meant that there wasn’t anything long enough to turn the key – even if I had been willing to loose a nail or two. No pliers in the car, but by

Dint of careful precision holding was able to somewhat insert into the key block and thus

Turn. Am using the spare key, but really a car key that breaks off after only 5 years!

I am not impressed.

19 Million people and…

Best birthday cake yet! Thanks S

 P.D.James!

Oh the luck – I who love words and greatly appreciate P.D.James actually share the same birthday. Who knew?

Kind of cuts one back to one’s size doesn’t it?

19 million people.

I in fact have two very good friends who share my birthday and know of at least a half a dozen others amongst those surrounding family and friends.

It was a fun day – at one point I figured a blog would need to say something along the lines of “I wrapped myself in love – friends, family and even strangers”. It was a low-key, stress-free birthday with cell phone calls not happening at the same time as fixed phone calls, with just the right mix of coffees, lunch, and even running into the family who’s party I had been unable to attend. The day, socially, ended with a cocktail/dinner with some of my best friends.

I would wish for this every day, but the joy probably would swamp me.

Lucky, lucky, lucky me that amongst the world’s 7 billion+ I have so many with whom to share my life.

My slice of that gorgeous creation - love resberries!

Happy birthday “Switzerland”

Why the quote marks one might ask: “Switzerland”, “Suisse”, “Schweiz” and “Swizzera” all describe in an easy manner the small country in the middle of Europe whose official name is Swiss Confederation being as it is 26 cantons bound together in a common community with the federal government in Bern.

I’ll spare you the history lessons, but it is now commonly acknowledged that the oath taken in 1291 by the three cantons of Uri, Schwyz (thus the name – the Swiss are nothing if not pragmatic and this was probably the easiest of the three to remember and pronounce in other languages) and Unterwald to be mutually protective against the Hapsburgs is the founding of what we know call Switzerland. From 3 cantons it grew to the present 26, each canton joining for its own reasons, not so much because of a shared identity (4 national languages), but more to guarantee their own independence.

The celebration of a National Holiday on August 1^st  began in 1891 but trust the hard-working Swiss to not make it an official holiday until 1994.

It is still celebrated exclusively by communities throughout the cantons, most involve the burning of a bonfire at some point although this year with the elevated fire warnings there may be exceptions. Usually the local volunteer firm brigade takes care of it.

That’s the basic facts: this morning when I awoke – fever free – yeah I realized that I could actually remember where I was every 1^st of August for the last 7 decades!

1948 – not yet here, I guess I wanted to have my own day as I missed being born on my favorite aunt’s, another aunt’s and my own mother’s birthdays.

1958 – Washington D.C. – the first – and most epic of my road trips when the whole family accompanied my father. We drove all along the Southern states of the USA and returned home via the Northern ones. This was the only time I saw my maternal grandfather.

1968 – Had just finished exams for my first Alliance Française in Collonges-sous-Salève, France. Who knew that I would eventually come back a second year then return for good a few years later.

1978 –Son number one was just months old so summer mainly in Europe

1988 – A boat ride to Anières, a picnic with friends

1998 – glad to be home … minus a cancerous tumor

2008 – Relaxing with local friend

2018 – In my own village, that is if the heat and the residue of my virus don’t get to me!

There have been many ways of celebrating August 1^st in between – rarely not here to enjoy them. I may not be around when Switzerland celebrates its’  800^th, but I was for the 700^th.

Happy Birthday Switzerland

1st of August 2018

A thought for the Day indeed.

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:

I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself. -Emily Bronte, novelist (30 Jul 1818-1848) from A.Word.A.Day Anu Garg

Struck deeply with me as I read it on my cell phone from the comfort of my bed this morning.

I had to laugh, which brought on another bout of coughing, as I obviously am being « a sensible man », perhaps not by choice, but nevertheless sensible.

Having coughed through the nights on both Wednesday and Thursday I chose to not attend a birthday party Friday night as as much as I wanted to, I already didn’t feel 100% in form and there was a newborn present. Thank goodness I listened to intuition. Friday night I sneezed and dripped the whole night.

Saturday I hit the pharmacy and that night took a pill to at least stop the coughing. Slept the night through and

yesterday I spent the day in bed, dozing. With a fever at the end of the day I had to send out a « cancellation of the party » notice, sigh.

Today I called a doctor.

Diagnosis – a viral respiratory infection.

Care – basically what I’ve been doing, ie take it easy, drink fluids, take the odd paraceptomol for systems.

I appreciated this doctor’s take on things and, barring any unforessen developments (pneumonia is always a worry with a respiratory virus), I’ll be back on my feet soon.

The fact that I am starting to feel hungry again was a good sign according to the doctor and lunch (I had turned down about 10 offers of help with food and groceries by saying that it was a good chance to empty cupboards, freezers and refrigerators) was the last slice of turkey from Christmas, on a piece of XLVitality bread. If that doesn’t help what will ?

So for the moment I am following Emily Bronte’s advice to the letter, more to not expose any of my friends to this rather unpleasant experience than from any true desire to be on my own, still am starting to catch up on the reading so every negative has its positive.

They may look tough - I'm tougher!

I’m still here!

Now that could mean many things

• I’m still in the house that we built in 1980 and moved into on May 2, 2018
• I haven’t gone anywhere although expected to
• Or, more importantly that

I’m still alive.

Today, July 28 – twenty years ago I went into the operating room late. I had been scheduled for 9 am but they didn’t take me until nearly noon. Now, those that know me know that I get hungry, that I don’t like to miss meals and that at the best I start getting grouchy so you can only imagine how hungry I was when I awoke in the observing room after my operation. I finally managed to convince the attending nurse that yes, I was hungry, that, no I wasn’t feely queasy or any other aftereffect from the narcosis. She finally gave me a yogurt, which although it tasted lie ambrosia came back up as quickly as it hit my stomach. So much for not feeling the effects of surgery or the anesthesia.

I then proceeded to spend time in the hospital, getting out the 1^st of August 1998 a whole 2 days before my 50^th birthday.

It’s now 20 years since that first cancer.

Meanwhile both of my parents have passed away – my dad whilst I was undergoing chemo; my little sister lost her battle with cancer. My husband died and there have been other challenges as well.

On the plus side: my sister-in-law in the USA just passed her 10 year mark and my German sister-in-law is headed or 85 in spite of hers. Both of my sons have turned into fine young men, interesting, entertaining, they led lives that as their mother make me proud, but that would have also been highly satisfactory to their father.

I have even managed to hit the 5-year mark since the second bout of breast cancer.

My husband called me his pioneer woman – a survivor.

I’m indeed still here and enjoying every moment of life.

I am tired of the pink ribbon, but a pink flower from a favorite spot will do just fine.