Back to 1978

I couldn't shred history without taking a sneak peek at a few statistics that interest me. 

The year I was about to shred was 1978 - the year I married and had my first child. So I stopped and pulled out a few documents:

Dad's rate of pay - $6.30 per hour

Christmas bonus - $50.00

Interest rate on a 2 year Guaranteed Investment Certificate - 10.25%

Electricity, water, telephone bill - $39.08

Heating bill - $26.13

Long distance rate - $0.46 per minute (after 6 p.m.)

Hmmm ... let's compare that to 2021 statistics I have on hand:

Minimum wage - $11.45/hr (note: a full time wage of $21.16 = annual salary of $44,012.80, which is considered the lowest end of the middle class tax bracket in Canada)

Christmas bonus - a $50 bonus beats $0.00 every time

2 year GIC (at the same institution) - 0.50%

2021 - monthly bills based on my equalized payment amounts:

Electricity - $114.00

Water - $90.00

Heat - $80.00

Telephone - $25.00

Long distance rate - $0.05 per minute any time of day

 

Dad's net pay biweekly cheque was $480.00 ($1,040 monthly)

Monthly bills totaled $75.00 (7% of his monthly wage)

His Christmas bonus was almost 5% of his monthly wage

A $1,500 investment earned $153.75 (at today's rate of interest you would earn $7.50)

Interesting math, no matter what way you spin it. How do your finances stand up to this 1978 comparison? 

Life was simpler back in 1978, or so it would seem by today's standards. We can't go back in time but it's interesting to take a peek every now and again.

Hidden Benefits

I have accidentally locked one of our cats in our den on more than one occasion. One would think one would learn their lesson after doing so. Twice. One would be wrong.

The scene of the crime:

The aforementioned cat was sitting on a chair in the den prior to my closing the door. When the mere act of vacuuming the room in close proximity to the cat didn't make him budge, I proceeded to vacuum the chair he was resting on. 

The cat moved, I vacuumed the chairs, then proceeded to close the door behind me. The cat guilty of hiding out under the couch while I did a visual check before closing the door was safely outside the room.

Then I left the house. For the weekend.

Did I mention we have two cats? We do. It was the second cat who somehow got locked in the den. For two days.

There were some minor demeanors of a cat in need of a litter box, but all in all the cat escaped relatively unscathed from the event.

The only victim was a huge box full of papers to be shredded. The box top was folded shut so the "liquid" did not infiltrate the entire box but it did necessitate cutting off the box flaps and initiated the process of shredding the first layer of papers-to-be-shredded.

One day at a time, one layer at a time, the cat-locked-in-the-den-incident has nudged me into action. This box of shredding WILL be dealt with. After months of procrastination, one ill fated weekend with a cat has forced me into action.

Our cat may require therapy to get over the emotional scars (in reality, he seems to be rolling with the aftermath rather well and had in fact dominated the couch in "his" den after the ordeal), but I am grateful for the much needed push to do what should have been done long ago.

The Writing on the Wall

There is something mystical about the way I feel each and every time I walk into my little home-away-from-home.

The house has been furnished with the excess from my home. It seems each piece of furniture comes with a story and a bit of history. The kitchen table was Mom's; Dad made the bench we use at the table; Dad reinforced one kitchen stool, while the second stool was Mom's; a bed that was once my brother's; the rocking chair Mom gave me prior to the birth of my youngest child; a dresser my sister refinished and donated when we moved to our new city with little besides the clothes on our back; a kitchen that is largely comprised of what was divvied up among us after Mom died; the stories go on and on. There is a large piece of history woven into the essence of the house. 

My son has sold his home and is storing some of his belongings within our joint investment which has added another dimension to our shared space. 

The only thing that has been out-sourced in the picture below are the kitchen chairs which fit into our home full of misfit furniture which has somehow come together in a wonderfully cohesive home.

Then there is the house itself, which seemed to call out and touch us in a up close and personal way  ...

 ... could it be as literal as the writing on the wall?

P.S. The flash on my camera wouldn't work when I snapped this picture, adding a dimness which enhances the writing on the wall, while still capturing the essence of the house which has been furnished with history. I kept the picture because it said what I wanted it to say. 

Welcome Home

This is the sign that greeted me as I walked into the weekend past:

The letter holder was Mom's. 

It has found its way back into a house that feels like home.

The writing was my son's,

so I looked for more of a message underneath the welcoming words.

Two words were enough.

I always feel such awe when

a small thing makes such a big difference.

So Many Words (so little time)

I feel the words bubbling up inside of me again and life-as-I-am-living-it feels too busy to take the time to write.

The moment I started writing that paragraph, my answer was obvious. Get up earlier!

I am a morning person. I love spending time at my little home-away-from-home. I wake up in the wee hours of the morning to open windows and blinds to let in all the cool morning air possible before the day heats up. Once up, I stay up. 

Staying up is the answer. I went back to bed the last morning I spent at my little oasis-away-from-home. When I finally deemed it time to get up, I felt awful. If I didn't know better, I would think perhaps I was sick. But I know better.

I know I felt just fine when I first awoke and opened up the blinds to harness the cool morning air. If I had went about my early morning rituals, I feel I would have avoided a day of feeling hungover (minus the alcohol).

Early morning is where it is at for me. 

I love the time before the rest of the world wakes up and starts demanding things from me. To talk. To think. To plan. 

The wee hours of the morning is the time when I let my thoughts wander wherever they want to go. Thoughts that are starting to beg to be written. Thoughts that propel me forward throughout the day. Thoughts that spark gratitude when I let myself sit still with seeds that have been planted the day(s) prior.

I have had so many blog posts in my mind that got lost along the way as life demanded more of me than time allowed. 

So many thoughts. It is time to make the time to be still with them. I like spending time with my thoughts. I enjoy my own company. For this, I am eternally grateful.

Penned In

Despite the vaguely worded construction notice our neighborhood received "Please remove all vehicles from the roadway and adjacent driveways", I was surprised to discover our entire driveway and garage would be completely inaccessible during "Phase 2" of a four phase plan:

I was relieved I noticed this scene unfolding prior to being completely blocked in but was a slight bit miffed at the inconvenience.

I woke up the next morning and gave myself a good talking to. Yes, this is a slight inconvenience. But it is for the greater good. The City is taking care of a water main replacement that wreaked havoc with our ability to access running water last winter. It was not just us. As the City remedied one problem, it created a new one. A domino effect of water main woes in the middle of a Saskatchewan winter was not fun for anyone.

I am so very grateful to live in a city where they take over and fix the problems. It is one of the benefits of paying property taxes. 

As I moaned and groaned about being "this close" to not being affected by the road closure, I was reminded that this repair was for the entirety of our street. If we weren't affected now, we would be next in line. 

The City has supplied us with running water, at no extra cost or inconvenience, while the water main is under repair. All in all, we must be grateful that such a major undertaking is affecting us as little as it is.

This has been a particularly busy week with out-of-home errands, appointments and commitments. As I saw that red fence going up I longed for the COVID stay-at-home recommendations. What if we had to stay home as long as it took for the repair to be completed? How would that feel?

As I found a temporary parking spot directly behind us and talked to my neighbor across the alley to explain the need to park in front of their home (immediately reminded of Mom's irritation when people she didn't know parked in front of her house), I felt myself feel relieved that we haven't been entirely confined to our home.

We have the freedom to come and go, while major repairs are underway. We have running water. We have everything we need while the City takes care of all of the heavy lifting.

I can't believe I'm writing this. I am relieved we are not as penned in as it appears. 

What I Try to Do

I have been trying. The habit of morning writing seems to ebb and flow but I keep thinking "Just write. Write anything". I want to resume the habit of writing and find that unconscious brain to fingertip writing that comes when I least expect it.

I found a piece of that puzzle within my quiet little home-away-from-home. Bigger thoughts and deeper writing found their way onto the page while I savored the early mornings. All over the page kinds of thoughts. Interconnected but varying hues of the same but different story.

As I pondered whether I will continue to go to this little oasis when it gets cold and snowy, the idea of utilizing this as a quiet space to  write and let my creative juices flow has trumped my reluctance to drive in the winter. 

In the meantime, I seem to be struggling to maintain the demands of work-and-life-at-home with my promise to "just write".

My life feels like this half stained fence. I ran out of stain before I ran out of fence. Valiant effort. But incomplete:

I could list all the things I have started and left hanging in the middle. Undone. Incomplete. Out of stain. Out of time. Out of motivation. But I won't.

I will just do as Maya Angelou says:

"What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks “the cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat.” And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, 'Okay. Okay. I’ll come.' " 

~ Maya Angelou

Then I will hone in on completing the job.