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My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 193: ***Woo-Hoo***

30 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by in Appliances, Clothes, Home, Laundry, Mental Health

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Yesterday was “New Washing Machine Day” at our house.

Our three year old washing machine broke down ten days ago.

My husband figured that the problem was the wiring for the lid lock .

A visit to our local appliance centre was in order. He ordered the replacement wiring which cost $100.00. We were told it should arrive in a week. They had none in stock because this was a common problem, and this part virtually flew off the shelves.

A week later after the new wiring arrived Frank installed it.

No luck.

I was not surprised.

To be honest, I never much liked that washing machine anyway.

Three years ago, I was compelled to get the new HE energy efficient model.

There was no agitator.

The instruction manual explained that I was to distribute the clothes evenly around the outside of the drum and leave the centre of the machine free of laundry so that the machine would “swirl” my clothes clean.

Like I haven’t heard that one before…

From the first day I brought it home I knew there would be trouble.

It began with the lid lock.

Once I pressed the start button after making my selections on the washing machine panel, the lid lock slammed into place with a huge metallic clang as it immediately placed the laundry into lockdown mode.

My washing machine literally locked me out as it went through all of it’s cycles.

There was no way I could get back into that machine without a fight.

For example, if I happen to find a sock that had dropped and I wanted to include it with the load, I would try to open the lid.

“No dice,” my washing machine would reply.

“Please,” I would say.

My washing machine told me that they’d think about it.

“Check back with me in five minutes,” it said as it sat there…

…And did nothing!

After five minutes, the machine decided to disengage the lid lock.

After inserting the renegade sock, I would re-start the machine.

After the lid lock slammed into place, there would be a soft buzz.

I was told that this was sound of the sensor as it determined how much laundry was in the tub.

Why was it sensing for load level when I had clearly pushed the heavy load button?

And another soft buzz followed.

The machine was obviously in no hurry.

I was not amused.

At least five minutes passed before I could hear the sound of water running into the drum of the washing machine

It took approximately one hour for the machine to do the load, start to finish before I heard the buzzer announcing that the laundry was now complete.

However, it took another five whole minutes, during which the washing machine held my laundry hostage, before it finally disengaged the lid lock and finally released the clean clothes into my custody.

I felt no remorse whatsoever last weekend as my husband and I made the trip to our local appliance store and picked out a new washing machine.

It arrived today.

Imagine my joy as I commenced the initial load by closing the lid of this new washing machine with no clang of the lid lock being engaged.

What I did hear was the immediate sound of running water as it began it’s wash cycle.

There was no more five minute wait for the load sensor’s approval.

From this day forward, the only thing getting agitated would be the laundry…

…and not my nerves.

***Woo-Hoo***

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 186: Phoneless

10 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by in Communication, Education, iphone, Self-help

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Today, as I got to work, I realized that I had done something that I rarely ever do.

I forgot my cellphone at home.

Well, that is to say, that I think it’s at home, in fact, I’m fairly sure that it is.

I did not have the phone with me in the car. Home is the last place where I remember seeing it.

Usually, I put it in my right jacket pocket. Until tonight, I have always ritualistically patted this pocket before leaving for work to make sure that I had the phone on me.

But not tonight.

I doubt that it fell out of my jacket pocket, as my pockets are on the deep side. Further, I know it wasn’t in the car or in my purse because a glowing red light on my watch indicated that the phone is not within the maximum ten feet of distance required to enable the Bluetooth.

Now, don’t get me wrong…

I am not a big fan of the telephone. Originally, the only reason I agreed to carry one is because of my thirty-six kilometre trek into work. It was my genie in a bottle in case my car breaks down. In fact, I have never reached even half of my quota for my monthly phone minutes.

What I do use it for is dictating my blog posts. It’s much faster than typing. Also, while driving to work, I enjoy listening to CBC radio program ‘Ideas,’ which is broadcast weekday nights from 9:00 to 10:00 p.m. I never get to hear the end of the programs because I have to report for my shift. Thanks to the podcasts, I can now listen to them in their entirety while I am sorting my mail at work.

Thankfully, I will not have to endure the usual “Where is my cell phone” angst as I believe it is waiting for me at home on top of the coffee table in my living room. This is where I enjoy my last few sips of tea before leaving for work.

So, tonight I am without my phone.

There will be no music or podcasts to listen to.

I won’t be able to take a picture should anything catch my eye.

No silly on-line gaming.

No checking my Twitter.

Last but not least, for the next eight hours, my family has no way to get hold of me.

Well, maybe that’s not so bad.

What I will miss Is the ability to be able to google random questions that tend to pop up from time to time…

Questions like:

Who was the original Ronald MacDonald?

In the television series ‘The Dick Van Dyke Show’ who were Rob and Laura Petrie’s neighbours?

What are the words to Billy Joel’s song ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’?

How old is Jimmy Carter?

When I first realized that I was without my cell phone, the first thought that occurred to me was that tonight’s eight hour shift at work was going to be an interesting experiment:

How long would I last before I started getting phone withdrawal.

Would I get the shakes? Fidgety? Find it hard to breathe?

Well, we will just have to see.

(Six hours later…)

After finishing my shift and having arrived back home, I am happy to report that none of the above ever happened.

In case you were wondering, I found the phone on the sofa underneath a throw cushion.

It’s a good feeling to know that I was able to detach myself from my cell phone for a change

It was kind of nice.

In fact, I even got some overdue blog writing done.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 134: Spidey Sense

05 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by in Science, Spiders, Writing

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When I was a little girl, my Father told me that if it weren’t for spiders we would be knee deep in bugs.

I’ve been very thankful for spiders ever since.

Growing up, I tried to teach myself not to be afraid of them.

It wasn’t easy.

I’ve come to the point where I no longer physically jump when I happen to catch sight of a spider.

However, finding one actually crawling on me is another matter entirely.

For obvious reasons, I refused too see the movie Arachnaphobia in favour of nurturing a more spider friendly environment.

I’ve also taught my daughters that we are a spider friendly home.

However, there was the odd time when I’ve had to listen to a heartfelt confession when one of girls would admit to me that she had to kill a spider because she was feeling physically threatened.

When Father found a spider in the house, he would not kill it, but rather evict it.

This was his process:

A clean and dry cup or jar was secured.

The cup or jar was then placed over the spider.

A flat piece of paper was then slid underneath the cup until it covered the entire top of the container.

Carefully, the container would be lifted while holding the paper in place thereby not allowing the spider to escape.

The container was carefully carried to the door where the spider was then released.

This also works well with bumble bees and ladybugs.

There…

Now you know how to successfully evict a spider from your house.

I hope that you will try to be kind to your spiders too…

Or perhaps one day, we will indeed be knee deep in bugs.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 103: Grandmother’s Ice Cream Money

02 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by in Food, God, Heaven, Ice Cream, Money, Stories

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I loved my Grandmother very much.

She knew instinctively what it took to make her grandchildren happy.

Ice cream was one of those ways.

When I was a little girl, she would quietly take aside, look around to see if anyone was watching, and then carefully slip some money into the palm of my hand. Then she would whisper to ensure that no one would hear…

“This is for ice cream…”

…Don’t tell your Grandfather.”

With an obeying nod, I solemnly gave her my promise.

I’m sure my cousins share these same memories…

Yes, we loved ice cream, but Grandmother loved ice cream even more.

My Aunt once shared with me that when Grandmother came to visit the family for several weeks, she always left a little rounder than when she first arrived. I have no doubt that this stemmed from sharing her love of ice cream with all of her grandchildren.

So, now that she is no longer with us and has been taken up to heaven, I cannot help but wonder if she is in any way able to get a double dip.

As Christians, we were always taught that “God will provide.” Some would say that God will provide us with our needs.

Well, I know for a fact that for my Grandmother ice cream was a necessity.

So, when I get to heaven, I fully expect her to immediately take me quietly aside.

Then, like before, she will carefully slip some money into the palm of my hand and whisper:

“This is for ice cream…

…Don’t tell God!”

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post Ninety-Two: Got Apples?

22 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Diet, Family, Nutrition, Stories

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Since this week would have been my father’s eighty-third birthday, I have decided to write a few celebratory words…

…or maybe not so few,

…in his honour.

This story begins way back when I was still a young teenager.

I can still recall the times that I would go to a refrigerator in search of a snack.

Upon hearing the fridge door open, dad who was usually upstairs, would call down to me:

“What are you doing in the fridge?”

“I’m hungry,” I would reply.

“Eat an apple,” he would then tell me.

“I don’t want an apple…” I’d answer.

“Then you’re not hungry.”

I would then proceed to linger in the fridge for a few more seconds. Then finding nothing of interest, I’d close the fridge door and walked away, disappointed and…

…apple-less.

Let me state, that our humble fridge never lacked for apples. Father did not believe in the regular two or five pound bags.

He brought home apples by the bushel, fresh from our downtown market.

We were a family of three: my Father, myself and my little sister.

That’s a lot of apples for just three people.

In turn, each morning before school, I would fill my large purse with apples and gleefully hand them out to friends during break.

Still, somehow we never ran out of apples.

And so… years later, as a memento of those days, I cross-stitched the apple sampler you see above and gave it to dad as a father’s day gift in 1990. He hung it in his kitchen. And there it remained until after he passed away, when it was ultimately returned to me.

It now hangs in my dining room, and continues to bring me joy to this day… In the week my father would have turned eighty-three.

Now, if you’ll excuse me… to celebrate the life of my father, I am now off in search of an apple…

…Even though I’m not hungry.

I miss you Dad.

Post 76: Flying Whales Class 101 – My Vivid Imagination:

05 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by in biology, Doctor Who, Science, Science Fiction, SciFi, space travel, Stories, Writing

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All my life, I have prided myself on a better than average imagination.

Even my elementary school report cards were filled with comments from my teachers pointing out to my parents that:

“Doris has a very vivid imagination.”

However, unfortunately my vivid imagination has now been compromised, thanks to writer Stephen Moffat the brains behind the now successful Doctor Who and Sherlock BBC television series.

My undoing is thanks to his season five Doctor Who episode called…

“The Beast Below.”

My tale of woe begins about fifteen years ago, working the midnight shift at the post office.

A had a good friend that I worked with who shared my interest in science fiction. He also knew that I had a penchant for writing.

“I want you to write me a story…”

…he said to me one night during lunch break.

“What kind of story?”

…I asked him.

“I want it to be about a whale that flies in space, and I want you to call him Fuzzy.”

I was gob smacked to say the least.

However, in the interests of friendship and good conversation, I decided to give it a try.

For weeks, and then months, that is all he wanted to talk about. In fact, he was so keen on the idea that almost every day he would come up with a new idea or nuance to add to the story.

While listening to him explain his ideas, I brainstormed till my head hurt but unfortunately, it was all for naught.

I could not picture it.

My vivid imagination was failing me.

Eventually, I had to give him the bad news that I was unable to move forward with his story about Fuzzy, the space whale.

It just did I not seem plausible to me.

Now… Fast forward to about five years ago.

I was watching the Doctor Who episode from season five, which was Matt Smith’s first season as the eleventh Doctor. It was the second episode after he whisks Amelia Pond away the night before her wedding.

The episode was called… “The Beast Below.”

The episode revolves around a mystery about a spaceship that can travel through space with no propulsion engine.

Finally, come the closing scenes where the mystery is finally solved and the hero is made known. And the hero is…

Yes…

A flying whale.

Kudos to you Stephen Moffat, he who has put my vibrant vivid imagination to shame.

You’re imagination is apparently so much more vivid than mine.

But after all, you are the brainstorm to Doctor Who AND the Sherlock series.

Now looking back, I’m glad that it was you that outsmarted me and no one else.

And so, for now the game board stands at:

Doris’s Vivid Imagination: 0 Stephen Moffat’s Flying Whale: 1

But don’t get too confident dear Stephen.

In the words of one of my favourite overlooked heroes:

“I’ll get you next time my pretty….”

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 66: Peace On Earth

20 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by in non-fiction, Peace, Stories, Travel

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As I get older, I’ve begun to notice that I observe holidays and occasions with a different focus lens than the ones I used in my earlier years.

Further, it is with sadness that I take a few moments to remember my loved ones who are no longer here.

My grandfather always had a wonderful way with words.

I remember asking him if he had one wish, what would it be?

“Peace on Earth,” was his reply.

He would say these words often and with meaning.

If there was an uncomfortable pause in conversation during a stressful family moment, he would break the silence with the words…

“Peace on earth.”

After listening to disturbing news coverage, again, we would all hear him say…

“Peace on earth…”

as his own resounding amen to the state of the world, the country, mankind.

And then came the sad day, when we laid my grandfather to rest in late January 2000.

Driving back from the memorial service my heart was searching for a healing balm to take away the pain of losing him.

I did not have to search long.

Maybe it was only a coincidence.

Maybe it was because of a forgetful maintenance man.

Some might even say that it was serendipity.

Because driving by a lit up hospital during late night January, I saw his very own words emblazoned in white frothy Christmas lights all over the hospital’s front entrance…

‘Peace On Earth.’

Look up the word ‘serendipity on Wikipedia and you’ll find the following definition:

“Serendipity is when someone finds something that they weren’t expecting to find. In the simplest of words, it means a “happy accident”.

I believe in serendipity. Every now and then something seems to happen to me in the form of “a happy accident.”

Only, I know it isn’t an accident. Rather, it’s a push or a nudge from forces far greater than myself signalling that miracles do happen to those who are open to the experience.

Take for example my next story:

I remember when I was about six years old, my paternal grandparents from Cleveland were visiting us in Toronto.

One day, we took a day trip to Niagara Falls.

As I sat in the back seat of the car next to my grandmother, she taught me the song: ‘Dona Nobis Pacem,’ which in English means

‘Peace on Earth’.

After singing a few choruses with her, and after I had learned it well enough to sing by myself, my grandmother and I then sang it as a round, again and again.

It is such a beautiful song, which I love deeply, even to this day.

And so, it was during a very happy time in my life when I found myself in Rome. We had just left the Pantheon and were making our way back to the hotel.

I looked up to a balcony and saw a flag hanging from a window that brought a happy mist to my eyes.

The flag bore only one word.

‘Pacem,’

This word, of course, is Latin for Peace, or…

better known to me as:

Dona Nobis Pacem

Give us peace.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 59: A Christmas Car Story

15 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by in American Civil War, Automobiles, Battles, Cars, Christmas, Decorating, DIY, Gettysburg, History, Holidays, Nativity, Pennsylvania, Safety

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It happened one Christmas in Gettysburg.

My husband and I decided to do some Christmas shopping during our visit to this quiet little Pennsylvania town best known for their epic three day American Civil War battle that took place in July 1863.

We pulled into the parking lot of an average mid-sized department store.

We parked directly behind your average mid sized car.

However there was nothing average about this car.

Attached to the roof of this car was a large platform covering the entire length of the vehicle.

Set atop of this car-roof platform was an elaborate nativity scene.

I’ll repeat that:

Set atop of this car-roof platform was an elaborate nativity scene.

It was huge!

The attention to detail was exemplary.

The scene was even complete with artificial snow and a Christmas tree.

I have never seen anything like it.

“Why would someone do this to their car?”

…I asked myself

Then I asked myself:

“How does it stay up there?”

I considered that a valid question as the wise men stood what looked like three feet tall.

Even though everything looked stoically stuck up there, I certainly wouldn’t want to take that show on the road. I’d be in fear for that poor sucker caught behind me getting pelted by the three wise men not to mention Mary, Joseph and the Baby Jesus.

Eventually, I was able to turn my thoughts back to Christmas shopping and we headed inside the store.

Entering the store, I wondered who among these shoppers owns that ridiculous car?

There would be no way to tell who it was.

Certainly, the car owners would look like everyone else…

Then, after we pulled out our buggy and started heading down aisle number one, we caught sight of the owners of said car.

I had no doubt whatsoever that these two people, a man and women owned that Christmas car outside in the parking lot.

How did I know this?

Both of them were wearing almost an exact replica of their car roof ornament on their head by way of incredibly elaborate Christmas hats that towered at least eighteen inches into the air.

Big, larger than life, and unforgettable.
The circumference of each hat appeared to be double that of a Mexican sombrero.

In other words, these hats were pretty flipping big.

Intense even.

Further, I would say that each of these hats were at least eighteen inches in height.

The last time I saw this couple, they were heading towards the hunting and sporting goods aisle…

And they didn’t look happy.

At that point, we decided that we had encountered more than enough Christmas spirit for one day and decided to call it quits on shopping.

And so, if you ever find yourself in or around Gettysburg…

Or anywhere else…

During the Christmas season, keep a wary eye out for these two people and their car.

And should you happen to see them on the highway, please remember to keep a safe distance.

We all know that the three wise men came bearing gifts.

I just don’t want them to become part of your radiator, or have any of the wise men crashing through your front windshield.

Be afraid.

Merry Christmas.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 46: Mush

04 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by in Poems, Poetry, Verse

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Amid my ever shrinking attention span

I’ve got to concentrate

At least while I can

Because I may not be lucid come morning

Please God keep me thinking clear one more day

Because I can hear growing voices say

As my senses grow dimmer…

Hush now baby don’t you cry

We’re going to song you a lullabye

That will slowly turn your mind into mush

Life beats down those who choose

To close their eyes and then take a snooze

It’s game over when your mind turns to mush…

Life’s a finite game plan with a one minute warning

When the last call comes the shriek is alarming

I heard the plate crack as it ran away with the spoon

While my mind is still nimble

It’s no longer quick

And it’s years since I’ve cleared that candlestick

But I can still get lost in it’s glow…

Humpy Dumpty’s fallen and I’m all alone

His shell is in pieces and my minds totally blown

How does one put life together again

My cell phone rang and when I took the call

A voice said get Cinderella to the ball

Her fairy godmother’s still sleeping…

Jack and Jill went up that hill

To fetch some water to take their pills

What was it that I was just thinking?

There’s not much anyone can do

When age and vice catch up with you

There’s no such thing as pretty maids in all in a row…

Life is really one hell of a dance

You’ve got to kick up your heels

While you still get a chance or

Ashes to ashes

And we all fall down…