tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113117232024-03-08T03:52:03.392+00:00Boatlife: Cruising Aboard NB Valerie
Life, death, love & all the other stuff in-betweenLes Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06200731053479474814noreply@blogger.comBlogger1161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-79338902330889520172021-02-25T00:43:00.001+00:002021-02-25T00:43:23.374+00:00Ice Storm 2021<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: medium;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Even with all our technology and the inventions that make modern life so much easier than it once was, it takes just one big natural disaster to wipe all that away and remind us that, here on Earth, we're still at the mercy of nature." ~ Neil deGrasse Tyson, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">American </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">astrophysicist, planetary scientist, author, and science communicator.</span></i></b></span><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) defines an ice storm as </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">a type of winter storm characterized by freezing rain, also known as a glaze event or, in some parts of the United States, as a silver thaw. The U.S. National Weather Service defines an ice storm as a storm which results in the accumulation of at least 0.25-inch (6.4 mm) of ice on exposed surfaces...occurring at temperatures just below freezing.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> Two storm fronts collided over the Pacific Northwest (PNW) of America last Friday, February 12th. A frozen cold low dropped down out of Canada, through Washington State and crashed into a large warm, wet storm front rolling in off the Pacific Ocean, resulting in Ice Storm 2021. This was the first of three storm fronts we were warned, due to plow through Western Oregon/Portland area (we live 15 minutes south of Portland in Gladstone). The second storm was due Saturday the 13th with additional snow and the third would bring warmer temperatures and rain on Sunday the 14th. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> For those who are not familiar with the Pacific Northwest, the States of Washington and Oregon are divided vertically by the Cascade mountain range which begins in British Columbia, Canada and continues down into California. The weather west of the Cascades is a wet, mild maritime climate much like England's. Portland, Oregon is only 98 miles east of the Pacific Ocean. The mighty Columbia River has worn a gorge horizontally across the landscape for hundreds of miles on its way down from Canada to the ocean. The Columbia River Gorge is the geographic dividing line between the bottom of Washington State and the top of Oregon--all the way to the ocean and it acts as a wind and weather funnel moving massive amounts of both off the Pacific ocean and right over Vancouver, Washington and Portland, Oregon--cities that face each other on either side of the gorge.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhism1WtI56rfthqxkDs-R6aqxCy7220XhVrtYGbq-19kpLatEXQNnrX8zqnAkxHzeTOpAGSG7YE5TqggL7mjSYr3tO5S2_l0pN0jbhL-w0jZzbQXlAciFonYdWnFVHqN3OHgTl/s400/Cascade+range.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="294" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhism1WtI56rfthqxkDs-R6aqxCy7220XhVrtYGbq-19kpLatEXQNnrX8zqnAkxHzeTOpAGSG7YE5TqggL7mjSYr3tO5S2_l0pN0jbhL-w0jZzbQXlAciFonYdWnFVHqN3OHgTl/w294-h400/Cascade+range.jpg" width="294" /></span></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> With a general maritime climate and humidity that seldom ever drops below seventy percent, snow it a rarity, and Western Oregon homes and businesses are not built to withstand freezing cold weather events. Certainly Portlanders are clueless about driving in snow and ice, so this dire warning given on Thursday, February 11th, did not bode well. We have a fireplace in our apartment, but we had no firewood. A family meeting earlier in the autumn determined that we didn't have the money to buy a cord of firewood and where would we store it? Here in the greater Portland 'burbs, everything that is not locked up, is stolen by neighbors or the homeless encamped down along the Willamette and Clackamas rivers. The confluence of both is directly behind our apartment complex, with a narrow greenbelt of trees, shrubs, and a paved pathway between us and the river's edge; lovely to look at but deadly in an ice storm as it turns out. Anyway, we opted not to buy firewood and after being evacuated for the wildfires in September, (which I have named Exodus Chapter one), the entire idea left our minds.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> Late Friday morning the snow began to fall and stick. Two of my girls were released by employers to come home early. Shiery was at a client's home, finishing up a twelve hour shift and she got stuck on the soft dirt driveway with a small hill going up to the main road. Off Mary and I went in in Kelli's Kia to rescue Sparky. My Subaru was a frozen solid mass of ice two inches thick and about as useful as a chocolate teapot! We had to traverse freeways nearly empty of traffic, and Portland streets winding up and down and around in the night time while the snow continued to fall and the streets were clogged with nearly seven inches of snow and other drivers stuck in their vehicles. We made it, and managed to free Shiery's car with the help of one of the neighbors. By the time we arrived back home it was close to 11 pm. The wind outside was howling and the snow had changed to wet sleet sticking heavily to everything. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> We lost electric power shortly before Mary and started out to help Shiery, so Kelli stayed home with the animals (five cats and a neurotic dog), and kept the fire going in the fireplace. We had enough wood for one night! </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gf-BkmMrXOc" width="320" youtube-src-id="gf-BkmMrXOc"></iframe></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> An initial check-in with Portland Gas and Electric (PGE) indicated power would likely be out until the 16th. We needed to scrounge some wood, and get some ice for the fridge and freezer. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Around 1:30 am Saturday morning we looked out the window to find a frozen landscape glittering with a coating of ice. Trees, loaded with snow and ice began to lose branches as they snapped under the weight, sending a noisy shower of ice to the ground that sounded like a rush of loudly crinkling tin foil. Every now and then a sharp crack would report across the midnight air as entire trees snapped off and the wind blew them around on their way to the ground. This continued without let up for 48 hours! Saturday night we were all woken by an enormous, heavy thud that sounded like it was right on top of us. A tree had come down and hit the balconies of two apartments just down from us, removing their balconies and eventually piercing completely through the dining room wall of the ground floor apartment below them. The clean snow out our back patio was now littered with broken branches of every size and part of a fallen tree. Our animals were completely traumatized as were we. Every time we heard the beginning of another ice fall, we held our breath and waited for a tree to come crashing through our dining room window.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1sPmXDRu8Rg" width="320" youtube-src-id="1sPmXDRu8Rg"></iframe></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> I dug out my Cobb Oven and set up a kitchen on our back patio, with a cooler for our most perishable food items. I had made a large pot of Bison stew on Thursday and there was plenty left over. We also had a freshly baked Gluten Free lemon cake, sandwich fixings, some fruit, and instant oatmeal, so no one was going hungry! We heated water in a pan on the logs in the fireplace, and could also cook spuds wrapped in foil. Mary and Kelli scored some wood from her mom who heats only with wood, and that got us through the next days. By then PGE was no longer estimating a return of service! I was prepared for two weeks, as this was my second ice storm. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> My first ice storm was back in 1996 while my children and I were living in a house on South Hill in Spokane, Washington--a city of over 340,000 and the largest city between Seattle, on the coast, and Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1332 miles eastward on the Great Lakes. This ice storm was so profoundly devastating with so many mature trees uprooted and downed, that many businesses were without power for weeks and our neighborhood was without power for two months! My children were farmed out to the homes of friends across two counties and I was managing between work as Spokane Public Radio, and the homes of friends who had power restored. Clearly ice storms are nature's means of pruning the forests. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> I am happy to report we all survived Portland's Ice Storm, albeit a little frayed around the edges. The snow and ice are gone, clean up crews and property maintenance have tidied things up here at Rivergreens, and life is back to normal now. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-88856889001197740002021-02-06T23:14:00.000+00:002021-02-06T23:14:06.648+00:00What's Goin' On?<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><b><i><span style="color: #b134ba;"> "Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings." ~Jane Austen, Mansfield Park</span></i></b><br /><br /> I do apologize to loved ones, friends, and followers for allowing four months to lapse since I last posted. There was so little to post about and I had adopted a siege mentality that made me feel as though my life was stuck in amber like an insect. A few things have changed: the Biden/Harris win is restoring a thin veneer of civility to America--at least out here in the Pacific Northwest. I noticed the day after the election results were verified, people out and about at the grocery store seemed friendlier and more willing to allow a smile to travel above their masks, to their eyes. The continuing support for Trump and the very real split in the U.S. Senate between actual conservative Republicans and Trump sycophants indicates the wheels have come off their vehicle and a fight for the heart and soul of the GOP (Grand Old Party) is occurring. In Arizona--a heavily Republican State where a lot of the Trump crazies live--7400 registered Republicans have left the party and registered with the Democrats. In Oregon--a State with a majority of conservative Republican towns, with Portland and Eugene functioning as liberal islands in a conservative majority landscape, 10,000 registered Republicans have left the party. Below is a timely interview with retired Republican Senator Danforth about this issue. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/040it_JPr8Q" width="320" youtube-src-id="040it_JPr8Q"></iframe></span></div><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> I've come through the darkest months literally and figuratively for me anyway, stretching from November 30th to January 31st. I've made it through one more anniversary of Les' death and the days are growing discernably longer again. Seed and plant catalogs are arriving in the mail box--harbingers of spring and summer ahead. We've signed a fourteen month lease on this apartment so I feel now as though I can truly unpack, hang some art and pictures, and make myself comfortable. I will post pictures when it is all unpacked and sorted out. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> I try not to think about the Pandemic since I cannot change anything. Of the four of us--my daughter Shiery, my daughter-in-law Kelli, my foster daughter Mary, and me--only Mary has no medical conditions precluding her from getting the vaccine. Shiery, Kelli and I all have multiple auto-immune diseases so we continue to take careful precautions. Mary found an Etsy site (<b><a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/ElimStation?ref=search_shop_redirect" target="_blank">Elimstation</a></b>) that sells the best masks we've found yet: three layers of fabric with a pocket for a disposable filter; comfortable, covers my chin and lower face, has a thin adjustable nose wire, adjustable ear loops, and each mask comes with one disposable filter. There are 56 different cloth patterns and child sized masks as well. These are the first masks I can talk in, breathe in without fogging up my glasses. The three layers and disposable filters (a pack of 10 can be purchased from the same Etsy shop) make me feel far better about going out in public. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIOusek7pXVqhkQbwnS684HUWnKLlx_Z8Fu2GqLtlay27lH8xtgdfE8puQo4Z6AWAK8brWGBiwFcmp1pW8ycvf1z06sLqnvRw90GDEq7EfV6TUqfysEnhyphenhyphenCQ3rG_K2a66b3lt/s354/image_2021-02-06_135855.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIOusek7pXVqhkQbwnS684HUWnKLlx_Z8Fu2GqLtlay27lH8xtgdfE8puQo4Z6AWAK8brWGBiwFcmp1pW8ycvf1z06sLqnvRw90GDEq7EfV6TUqfysEnhyphenhyphenCQ3rG_K2a66b3lt/s320/image_2021-02-06_135855.png" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> The BBC online included a piece about the Covid-19 virus and its main host while undergoing mutations. Apparently the virus has taken up residence in the bodies of immunosuppressed individuals on Steroids and Chemo drugs for Auto immune diseases, where it makes them desperately ill for many months due to their pharmaceutically suppressed immune systems. Without an immune system to mount a defense against it, the virus utilizes the host body as a lab, replicating itself while trying out different mutations, before killing its host and spreading on to others. There are 89 known auto immune diseases and they are all treated the same--with massive doses of steroids and usually a chemotherapeutic drug to shut down the patients' immune systems. Not good...and one more reason why both my daughter and I refuse to be treated with the standard immunosuppressive drugs for our auto-immune diseases. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Personally I have just experienced another apparent sign post of aging. It occurred a week ago Sunday. It had been a long day of shifting the furniture around in my bedroom, installing lights on my new headboard, taping wiring up in the back so my cat Biscuit cannot reach it to chew on, installing a curtain rod and hanging room darkening curtains, etc. At 8:30 pm suddenly a large, dark floater appeared in the vision of my right eye. It was quite large and looked like a black swirl of ink might look if dropped into a white cup full of water. I noticed a half hour later in my darkened room, flashing lights at the peripheral of my vision in my right eye, like a strobe light. Shiery has worked in health care for over twenty five years. She checked my pupils and received a normal response. I took an aspirin just in case I was having a stroke of some kind and we decided to sleep on things overnight. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> The next day the strobe light effect was still occurring but the floater had diminished in opacity and size, now shaped like a dark ring with a clear center, known as a Weiss Ring. I also had pain radiating our from my eye socket that was gradually growing worse. Shiery called the Advice Nurse at the hospital and she recommended we come into the ER so off we went. Shiery knows all the local hospitals so she chose one that is not a major trauma center and there were only two people in the waiting room when we arrived-- a mother and her four year old daughter. We of course were wearing masks, and there was an attendant sitting behind plexiglass in the waiting room, checking temperatures of those accompanying patients, and wiping down the furniture after someone left the area. Nevertheless, as soon as the attendant went to lunch, the young mother pulled her mask below her nose and her child had no mask on at all and was sneezing and coughing all over the bloody place. I could see droplets of saliva fly out of her mouth which pissed us off. People apparently do not teach their children civil manners anymore, such as covering one's mouth when sneezing or coughing. We were ushered into a small room off the waiting area and a triage nurse wrote down all the relevant information. She wore a double vented heavy duty mask, clear plastic eye protectors and a shield. I said, "I bet you never thought you would see the day when you had to gear up like a welder to come into work." We laughed grimly...back to the waiting area and finally we were ushered through a door and in to an ER room. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Thank the Goddess it was a room with four walls and a door and not a giant bay with six flimsy curtains separating the beds and patients. The mom and child were installed in the room next door. At one point Shiery was out in the hallway and she overheard a doctor diagnosing the child with Covid-19.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> The pain in my orbital socket grew more intense. Finally the lovely Dr. Shah arrived to examine me, and she patiently gave me detailed information after several tests which determined I do not have Diabetes or Glaucoma. My retina appeared to be in one piece so she referred me to the Northwest Eye Health Center which is located across the street from this hospital and requested that I call their office first thing in the morning for an immediate appointment with an ophthalmologist. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> The appointment the next day with Dr. Bengtzen resulted in an eye exam for new glasses, and several diagnoses. I had something termed PVD, Posterior Vitreous Detachment. As one ages, the gel inside the vitreous sack attached to the orbital socket and retina shrinks and tears away from both the socket and the retina. This can cause retinal tearing or detachment. My retina was okay--for now. Every time the sack of vitreous gel tears away it causes the strobe-light flashing. The dark floater in the shape of a Weiss Ring was caused by the glue adhering the sack to my retina pulling away. Dr. Bengtzen was surprised that I felt any pain. 99% of people feel nothing. During my intake he noted I have an auto-immune disease called Sarcoidosis which can cause the immune system to attack--among other soft tissues--the eyes. The Doctor was quite surprised to meet a sixty four year old who was not taking any medications at all. He asked what I took for the Sarcoidosis and I replied, "twenty-one milligrams of Melatonin daily." It does not cure Sarcoidosis but it does stop it from progressing without any negative side effects. He confirmed no Glaucoma, and no scarring from Sarcoidosis but indicated I have the start of cataracts--too small to worry about right now and caused by the aging process. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Finally Dr. Bengtzen shared with me that I have a genetic anomaly called Map Dot Fingerprint Corneal Dystrophy. It means my corneas are fragile and easily scratched, even by my own eyelid or something as innocuous as an errant lash. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> That's all the news that is fit to print for now. Next time, a post all about Biscuit, my little black cat!</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-90411564639770005892021-02-06T01:18:00.004+00:002021-02-06T01:19:41.970+00:00Eight Years Ago Today<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> <b><i><span style="color: #c526ed;">"Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color." ~MS Merwin, American poet, United States Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize winner for poetry, 1927-2019</span></i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Eight years ago today, February 6th, 2013: <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">Moored up at Fenny Stratford. Shopped at IKEA, and now it has begun snowing! We had a brilliant day out yesterday with our friends Sue and Ken Deveson (NB Cleddau/Boatwif blog site). We spent the entire day at their lovely home, eating a scrummy meal discussing education and all manner of things, playing Phase Ten, and having slices of homemade Coffee sponge cake with afternoon tea. They suggested we bring laundry to wash, so our down comforter and duvet cover are clean, dry and fluffy! Good thing as it is supposed to drop down and freeze again for awhile. Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, and Cream gravy on the menu tonight, then hot showers, warm jammies and our feet up in front of the telly for a show.</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-63065214877017505822020-09-25T00:30:00.002+00:002020-09-25T00:32:40.843+00:00Trump Has Stated He Will Not Leave the Post of President...<p> But surely this is not something that could actually occur is it? Isn't it the raving of a Sociopath? Well actually this scenario could play out because Trump is a master at identifying and manipulating gray areas of law to his benefit and sadly there are so many gray areas with regards to U.S. Presidential elections that this could actually occur. For those who wish to understand in better detail I give you this link Atlantic magazine article available as a video and <b><a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/11/what-if-trump-refuses-concede/616424/?fbclid=IwAR0x-dSTiumzDyNRPOcJm_UaMNhBV0Yb0BnHKzTOxyZPvmQN-4jG_YNpxeY">the link</a></b> to the accompanying print article for those who prefer to read. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SQsL-96DG3A" width="320" youtube-src-id="SQsL-96DG3A"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-74072333309159637952020-08-14T18:54:00.000+00:002020-08-15T09:45:39.831+00:00 On the Road to Find Out<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white;">"So on, and on I go, the seconds tick the time out, s</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white;">o much left to know, and I'm on the road to find out..." ~Lyrics from Tea for the Tillerman by Cat Stevens</span></i></b></span><br />
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the side effects of this pandemic is that we are spending a lot of time at home and consequently looking for things to keep us occupied. These are items I've bumbled, stumbled, and come across on my Internet wanderings. They amuse, fascinate, and/or educate me so I thought I might share them with all of you. </span></span></span><br />
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="color: #222222;"><a href="http://delancyplace.com/">DelanceyPlace.com</a></b><span style="color: #222222;">: I don't remember how I stumbled upon this free daily email. I enjoy a good, long fiction or non-fiction read or educational magazine articles for those moments when I am too tired to get lost in a full story, but I don't like short stories. They leave me feeling hungry for more; empty and unfulfilled. That said, however I do look forward to checking my email and seeing what DelanceyPlace.com has offered up for me to consider. These are short excerpts from books on everything from Edward Hopper's paintings, Nixon, Patton and Viet Nam; The Song of Birds; America Puts Aside Civil Liberties; Charlemagne Could Not Read or Write; Britain's East India Company and the Jagat Seth; Religion and the Afterlife; Venerating the Cat; to How Fast Can People Travel on Foot?</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Here is what founder Richard Vague and managing editor Clarissa F. Griebel have to say about their service: </span><i>Delanceyplace is a brief daily email with an excerpt or quote we view as interesting or noteworthy, offered with commentary to provide context. There is no theme, except that most excerpts will come from a non-fiction work, mainly works of history, and we hope will have a more universal relevance than simply the subject of the book from which they came. And there is not necessarily an endorsement, and in some cases an excerpt may be particularly controversial and we may disagree with some or all of it, but nevertheless deem it worth noting</i>. This is a 'slice of intellectual life" for those of us whose attention span is having difficulties fixing upon one sustained thing for a great length of time, with the option to purchase the book somewhere if the topic moves you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/">Brain Pickings</a></b>: A weekly email letter from Maria Popova, a Brooklyn, NY intellectual and author with a vast taste for bringing many ideas together for our consideration; hers is a mind where art and science for example, meet and feed one another giving birth to fullsome beauty and great astonishment. I love her choices for my contemplation. The newsletter is free and essay topics have ranged from A Stoic's Key to Peace of Mind: Seneca on the Antidote to Anxiety; The Courage to Be Yourself: EE Cummings on Art, Life and Being Unafraid to Feel; Rap on Race: Margaret Mead and James Baldwin's Rare Conversation on Forgiveness and the Difference Between Guilt and Responsibility; The Silent Music of the Mind: Remembering Oliver Sacks; The Poet of the People Sings Freedom: Carl Sandburg on Transcending the Pride and Vanity That Paralyze Social Justice; </span><br /><br />Popova is an avid supporter of <b><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/the-universe-in-verse/">The Universe in Verse</a></b>, begun in 2017 which celebrates science and poetry. Some of the poets are scientists, and some of the poems are deeply loved verse by well known non-scientists such as Emily Dickinson, Adrienne Rich, and Neil Gaiman. Poems are narrated by the great and the good in science and literature. For the inaugural show in 2017, dedicated to trailblazing 19th century astronomer<b> <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/tag/maria-mitchell/">Maria Mitchell</a> </b>and celebrating women’s underheralded contribution to science, Neil Gaiman delivered something of singular enchantment — a work of lyrical storytelling tracing the history of our species as the sense-making, truth-seeking animal who hungers for knowledge and advances by love. At its heart is an imaginative antidote to women’s erasure from the selective collective memory we call history. Titled “<b><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2019/11/25/the-mushroom-hunters-animation-neil-gaiman/">The Mushroom Hunters,</a></b>” lovingly addressed to Neil’s newborn son Ash, the poem went on to win the Rhysling Award for best long poem and has now been brought to new life in a soulful short film/ Please do yourself a favor and watch this lovely piece of collaborative art. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>If you are looking for excellent gifts for thoughtful youngsters</b>, I suggest <b><i><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/a-velocity-of-being/">The Velolocity of Being: Letters to a Yo</a></i></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/a-velocity-of-being/"><b><i>ung Reader</i></b>.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This fine book is a collection of original letters to the children of today and tomorrow about why we read and what books do for the human spirit, composed by 121 of the most interesting and inspiring humans in our world: Jane Goodall, Yo-Yo Ma, Jacqueline Woodson, Ursula K. Le Guin, Mary Oliver, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Rebecca Solnit, Elizabeth Gilbert, Shonda Rhimes, Alain de Botton, James Gleick, Anne Lamott, Diane Ackerman, Judy Blume, Eve Ensler, David Byrne, Sylvia Earle, Richard Branson, Daniel Handler, Marina Abramović, Regina Spektor, Elizabeth Alexander, Adam Gopnik, Debbie Millman, Dani Shapiro, Tim Ferriss, Ann Patchett, a 98-year-old Holocaust survivor, Italy’s first woman in space, and many more immensely accomplished and largehearted artists, writers, scientists, philosophers, entrepreneurs, musicians, and adventurers whose character has been shaped by a life of reading. Accompanying each letter is an original illustration by a prominent artist in response to the text — including beloved children’s book illustrators like Sophie Blackall, Oliver Jeffers, Isabelle Arsenault, Jon Klassen, Shaun Tan, Olivier Tallec, Christian Robinson, Marianne Dubuc, Lisa Brown, Carson Ellis, Mo Willems, Peter Brown, and Maira Kalman. A number of the art pieces are<b> <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2018/12/07/a-velocity-of-being-prints/">available as prints</a></b>, with all proceeds also benefiting the public library system.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnly3Ga2-pPz5z0NGUNHavnZ1JVAwvk7RjA5-1aa-3ulBeI7k82gy5WKpLi_WL7IZGQD74xLReiGEfCUHEsYDK_FuAObxZtuuH_wWb_Xf0P_Ecg70wXgje2vsLkuJVqlx0VgpH/s1600/lost+words+book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnly3Ga2-pPz5z0NGUNHavnZ1JVAwvk7RjA5-1aa-3ulBeI7k82gy5WKpLi_WL7IZGQD74xLReiGEfCUHEsYDK_FuAObxZtuuH_wWb_Xf0P_Ecg70wXgje2vsLkuJVqlx0VgpH/s320/lost+words+book+cover.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the same vein I also suggest </span></span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Lost Words: A Spell Book</i></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> which I first came across in 2018. I suggested it as a lovely </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">gift for children of all ages from 9-99 years of age who like to read, and was gifted a copy by a dear friend. The word poems and illustrations by author Robert MacFarlane and illustrator Jackie Morris are engrossing and enchanting. This book is available at Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk and may be available through your local booksellers. Please check with them first.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />The book began as a response to the removal of everyday nature words - among them "acorn", "bluebell", "kingfisher" and "wren" - from a widely used children’s dictionary, because those words were not being used enough by children to merit inclusion. Each acrostic spelling has three accompanying artworks by Jackie Morris–a glorious triptych of watercolor painting–firstly a clever but solemn display of the creature or plant’s absence from our world, then the spell itself accompanied by an ‘icon-esque’ self portrait of the central character surrounded with sumptuous gold leaf, and finally the creature or plant is depicted embedded in its natural habitat. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GZTj2AY6Q4VkCPGm9aQ9zjUJWC5q4Xq6puh9GFCEjxRScV-b-r64Cpye-JsKLp0XAWMDDr0d2eQ574SFayaxaVqZHuWml0-I_ouF7XkQnmVjNdj9HdN6oGp953trfpYmX0mA/s1600/Songlines+best+album+for+instagram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GZTj2AY6Q4VkCPGm9aQ9zjUJWC5q4Xq6puh9GFCEjxRScV-b-r64Cpye-JsKLp0XAWMDDr0d2eQ574SFayaxaVqZHuWml0-I_ouF7XkQnmVjNdj9HdN6oGp953trfpYmX0mA/s200/Songlines+best+album+for+instagram.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>So imagine my utter delight to discover </b>there is now accompanying <b><a href="https://www.thelostwords.org/">music</a></b> (Spell Songs) available featuring British folk musicians Julie Fowlis, Karine Polwart, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Kerry Andrew, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, and Jim Molyneux. The music may be purchased as a CD, a digital download or a special vinyl double LP with liner notes in a beautiful mixed media format featuring exclusive new Spells by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris with accompanying new artwork. Also includes new paintings inspired by the Spell Songs musicians and their instruments.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Since I have segued from reading to listening, I must share my stunningly favorite online find:<a href="https://radio.garden/"> <b>Radio Garden</b></a>! </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "atlas grotesk web" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.5px;">Radio Garden invites you to tune into thousands of live radio stations across the globe and stream stations online for no additional charge other than your Internet access. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "atlas grotesk web" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.5px;">By bringing distant voices close, radio connects people and places. From its very beginning, radio signals have crossed borders. Radio makers and listeners have imagined both connecting with distant cultures, as well as re-connecting with people from ‘home’ from thousands of miles away. Listeners can submit stations for inclusion and save favorites to find again easily.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "atlas grotesk web" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.5px;">My favorites are The Jazz Groove in San Francisco, California for delectable, eclectic soft instrumental jazz, SOMA Thistle Radio also out of San Francisco featuring Fiona Ritchie from The Thistle & Shamrock hosting her own format 24/7, KQED FM and KALW FM Public Radio out of San Francisco for excellent music, news, and public radio programming, The British Home Front Radio Service out of Doncaster, UK which plays a continual stream of music from 90 years ago during WWI and II, Radio Folk out of Copenhagen, Denmark featuring Danish folk music, SOMA FM Folk Forward out of San Francisco which offers modern folk artists, Giant 91.7 FM Classic Hard Rock out of Welland, Canada for a fix of Cream, Led Zep, The Stones and others, Radio Siamsa out of Dublin, Ireland brings us Irish mostly folk music, NWPR Classical Radio Public Radio station out of Pullman, Washington has the best streaming of classical music , Arctic Outpost AM1270 out of Longyearbyen, Norway which is jazz oriented, Xorroxin Irratia 88.0FM broadcasting from Lesaka, Spain with fascinating Spanish folk music, and Ambi Nature Radio out of Zurich, Switzerland which provides nature sounds. Still and all there are literally thousands of stations available on Radio Garden I have yet to tap into!</span><br />
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Radio Garden started out in 2016 as an exhibition project commissioned by the Netherlands Institute for Sound and Vision in the context of the research project Transnational Radio Encounters. It was created, designed and developed by Studio Puckey & Moniker. After taking care of the project in the following years, Jonathan Puckey turned Radio Garden into a small independent company in 2019.</div>
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Finally I note that the British canals are open for cruising once again. I stumbled upon a website called <b><a href="https://www.lockdownloo.com/">Lockdown Loos</a></b>! This is a crowd sourced site so the info is only as good as the information supplied. If you are on a phone the website offers instructions on how to access it via Google Maps on your phone. </div>
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Love Jaq xxx</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-44173484472720311772020-07-14T15:44:00.000+00:002020-07-14T15:46:39.249+00:00Boats and Canals again at last!!"Long after I have given up, my heart still searches for you without my permission." ~Rudy Francisco<br />
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I dream in the night of being back on NB Valerie, cruising with Les. I hear our voices and the sound of the engine, and the feel of the boat beneath my feet. I dream we are moored up somewhere lovely and green. Les is puttering outside while I am fixing dinner, then suddenly he is standing behind me, his arms around my waist once more, kissing my neck and whispering in my ear, "I Love you Jaqueline Marie Almdale Biggs." Missing Les and missing our life aboard our boat is like a double amputation. The eyes register what is gone but the heart seeks its return and sometimes tricks the brain into believing it is so.<br />
This Youtube video came across my path this morning and I watched, enchanted by the cut all over again. It is a home movie shot in 1965 of a trip boat leaving Berkhamsted, traveling up across Tring Summit and down the Marsworth flight to the Aylesbury Arm, and then down the Arm to the basin. I recognized it all and I was amazed at how little shown in the movie, had changed in fifty-five years. Les would have loved this. Enjoy!! ❤️❤️<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-63838701992277948792020-07-02T00:00:00.002+00:002020-07-02T03:06:35.592+00:00American Civics and Political Science Lesson for Our Time<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">There are years that ask questions and years that answer. ~Zora Neale Hurston, American folklorist and author, (1891-1960).</span></i></b><br /><br /> Awhile back I wrote a blog about the the things I liked best and least about Britain after living there for nearly a decade. I promised British readers I would write a similar post about America, being level handed in my writing about what I liked best and least. Well here is the latter part, as I promised our friend and fellow boater Mike Griffin. I will write another post later about what I like about this country when I can find something to write about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> On so many levels this world is clearly in an answer phase, demanding answers to atrocious human behavior on nearly every level that has carried on in this country for five hundred years. We here in the USA, are dealing with so much overwhelming crap on our plate, and many of us find ourselves wishing we could quarantine all the bigots, racists, Christian religious zealots, conservative Republicans, corporate and financial raiders, greedy billionaires, white terrorist groups, along with Donald and Melania Trump and his supporters (yeah I know some of the above groups intersect and overlap) together on Mars forever, although that wouldn't be far enough away for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I remember telling a British friend shortly after Trump was elected to the White House that we were witnessing a coup in action and that America was as close to another Civil war as we had been in those years leading up to April 1861. My friend looked at me rather shocked, refuting my assertion and suggesting I was being an alarmist and my attitude was a bit extreme. I still believe my assertion is true; only a thin black line of ink in the U.S. Constitution is holding this nation together. America was founded on genocide and slavery, the poisons of which foul our country and its politics from then until now, and Americans have been complacent about turning a blind eye to its institutional entrenchment in all parts of everyday American life--but most especially in our religion and politics, cloaked by white fragility and willful ignorance, taught in our schools and churches, enacted upon the lives of people of color in this country as a matter of course because it is written into our laws, and embedded in the American culture and psyche, hand-in-hand with white Christianity. Church and State are complicit in keeping people of color down while lifting white folks up.<br /> If people think BLM protests are shocking then wait and see what happens if Trump is defeated in November. Things will get really ugly out there because it is already disgustingly nasty. 45's behavior has not only given all the above named groups permission to come out of the shadows and corners of our country, but encourages them to march proud, guns in hand, taking over State capitols, city streets, and expounding their racism in churches, with white impunity while innocent black people--too many of them black boys--are shot in the back for being black in the wrong place at the wrong time and trans people are shot in the street like dogs. Trump supporters feel powerful now and if history has taught me anything, it is that those with power over others will not relinquish it voluntarily. Voting Trump and his administration out of office, voting Republicans who support Trump out of the Senate, these will be seen as the first salvos of the war; it is going to be a struggle of decades to take back this country and re-establish civility and work towards human and environmental rights for all; to regain the precious ground we have lost.<br /> We are dealing with the most corrupt administration ever to reside in our nation's capitol. While most folks in other countries are disgusted by Trump, they are dealing with stuff in their own countries--Brexit and a pandemic to name two--and the news outlets only cover the most outrageous of Trump's exploits and lies. They are not aware of all the dismantling of public works and Federal law that has taken place by the arbiter of evil sitting in the White House. Since taking office Trump has completed 66 rollbacks and has 34 in progress; Federal laws and programs that protect what I drink, eat, breathe, my rights as a worker, etc. etc. etc. I will not list them for you ad infinitum because your eyes would glaze over. If you really want to know exactly what we Americans are living with these days you may review the list <b><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/climate/trump-environment-rollbacks.html?fbclid=IwAR04mIaTMl1T7UrgThabw_v29eoK0p_L6k_ELiVb6uSuGtbalN-02n3tjAA">HERE</a></b>, printed by the New York Times newspaper. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> How you may ask, did America lose itself on the way here?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It was a deliberately planned coup with its initiation by white southern Democrats in the 1960's who switched parties over Kennedy's push for making over society as an enlightened, civil society with regard for the environment, equality, and civil rights. The GOP (Grand Old Party) welcomed the southern bigots and racists with open arms and in that moment it began to signify what the Party really stood for--and what it stood against. "The landmark 1964 Civil Rights Act signaled that the Republican Party would be a home for white voters — especially southern Democrats — unnerved by the burgeoning civil rights movement" (</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/specials/donald-trump-republican-party/trump-history/">Caldwell, Ch. 2; A Party </a></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/specials/donald-trump-republican-party/trump-history/">Divided</a></b>; July 7, 2016; www.nbc.com).</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> On March 6, 1961, he (President Kennedy) signed Executive Order 10925 which required government contractors to take affirmative action to ensure all employees are treated equally irrespective of their race, creed, color, or national origin. His Executive Order 11063 of November 1962 banned segregation in federally funded housing. On June 11, 1963, JFK gave his famous civil rights address calling Americans to recognize civil rights as a moral cause. His proposal to provide equal access to public schools and other facilities, and greater protection of voting rights became part of the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The Kennedy administration expanded unemployment benefits; aid was provided to cities to improve housing and transportation; a water pollution control act was passed to protect rivers and streams; significant anti-poverty legislation was passed including increase in social security benefits and minimum wage; and the most comprehensive legislation to assist farmers was carried out since 1938 which included expansion in rural electrification, soil conservation, crop insurance and farm credit. <br /> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Over the next five decades, as the GOP built a three-legged stool of support from security hawks, social conservatives and fiscal conservatives, white working-class voters, especially men, gravitated toward the party...In order for the GOP to become the Party of Trump it first had to become the Party of Reagan. Many factors led to the rise of </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Reaganism, including the candidate’s optimistic outlook, celebrity status, and tough stance on national security. Economic and cultural factors played a major role as well: In 1976, with Ford in the White House, unemployment hit nine percent. The post-World War II economic boom had finally slowed, with blue-collar workers facing a disproportionate effect. Simultaneously, the feminist movement had gained momentum, and along with the civil rights movement of a decade earlier, political attention was increasingly focused on minorities and women. That left traditional white, working-class Democrats, whose economic struggles had begun a decades-long decline, feeling out of place in the party. Charles Murray, the controversial social scientist whose 2012 book, <i>Coming Apart: The State of White America, 1960-2010</i>, chronicled the growing disenfranchisement of white working-class people, told NBC News that since the civil rights movement, white men in the 1970s had started to become “not only the forgotten voter but also the forgotten segment of the population.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> (Caldwell, <b><a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/specials/donald-trump-republican-party/trump-history/">Ch. 2; A Party </a></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/specials/donald-trump-republican-party/trump-history/">Divided</a></b>; July 7, 2016; www.nbc.com) Bear in mind though that for a segment of the population who felt unappreciated and disenfranchised, white men of any economic status had the most power in America then and now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I read the Nancy Reagan biography <i>Lady in Red</i> by Sheila Tate over two decades ago wherein I learned that Nancy Reagan and her step-father, wealthy, conservative Dr. Loyal Davis were responsible for turning her husband "Dutch" from a questioning Democrat into a staunch Republican in 1962. She was far more of a political animal than he ever was and Ronnie always allowed Nancy to call the political shots. This is vaguely reminiscent of Trump and Melania. It was she who convinced Donald to run for president and who began the orchestrations behind the scenes that led him to the White House, allowing the nation to view her as eye candy and a brain dead cardboard cutout on her husband's arm. She is anything but and we underestimate her at our peril. Nancy adored Ronnie; Melania is only in it for the money and power. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Nancy came from wealth and was surrounded by exceedingly wealthy ultra-conservatives throughout her life. Close friends Betsy Bloomingdale and Mr. and Mrs. Walter Annenberg to name only two of the billionaire's who hobnobbed with Ronnie and Nancy (he called her Mommy, reminiscent of Mike Pence who calls his wife "Mother"), their wealthy friends and allies underwrote Reagan's political bid and their lavish lifestyle, buying Nancy and Ronnie a new mansion in which to live in when they helped him get elected as Governor of California. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I can grant Ronald some distance from culpability given that he had Alzheimer's, and was no doubt suffering from it for decades before it flourished in full form. If I am going to give Ronnie the benefit of the doubt, I have to then consider that Nancy and her wealthy, conservative circle of friends were complicit in manipulating Reagan to their own ends, just as those in power in the GOP have masterfully manipulated working class white voters to vote against their own interests, to the benefit of the wealthy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Reagan was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 1994. The mild to early phase of Alzheimer's generally takes two to four years, the moderate to middle stage anywhere from two to ten years, and severe or late stage about one to three years. Ronald Reagan was Governor of California from 1967 to 1975. Using the stage definitions above Reagan could have begun experiencing mild Alzheimer's in 1980. He was elected U.S. President in 1981 and re-elected to stay in office until 1989. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I thought at the time it was apparent to anyone paying close attention that Reagan wasn't running the show; Dick Cheney had his hand up the back of Ronnie's coat, manipulating his strings while Nancy whispered in Cheney's ear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The GOP's long range plan to take over the government and the country rolled out with gloves off after the election of Newt Gingrich as Speaker of the House of Representatives in 1994. If the Republicans are good at anything, it is patience, long range tactics, and gross manipulation of voters by appealing to their emotions and beliefs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Gingrich began the wholesale cozying up to the Religious Right--specifically Evangelical Christians and conservative Catholics. This is not a case of the left hand knows not what the right hand is doing; this is a case of the left and right hands rubbing each other gleefully while skipping out together to unfurl the new ultra-conservative </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Republican Religious Right agenda propping up the Republican Party, which has proven they will get in bed with anyone who will ensure their rise to the top of politics and power in this country while f***ing everyone else to reach their goals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I have been shocked at the manner in which Christians have consistently voted for anyone who will advance their ideological agendas while turning a blind eye to the sick and ugly behaviors, mentality, and lack of character their chosen candidates exhibit. Consider Newt Gingrich standing at the bedside of his then estranged wife Jackie, who had just come out of surgery for what turned out to be a benign lump (she has been diagnosed with uterine cancer in 1978, a fact Newt was happy to capitalize on when running for office), with a yellow legal pad covered with ultimatums and demands that he wanted her to sign off on immediately--while she was only hours out of surgery and still in recovery. He was the advance act for Trump with his p***y grabbing, sociopathic, lying, ego aggrandizing behavior; but hey! Bubba Trump--or should I say Brother Trump--was willing to appoint 200 ultra conservative circuit court judges across this country, and install the same demagogues in the highest court in the land in order to defeat Roe Vs. Wade and overturn legalized abortion. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Republican party mantra is "Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice; moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue" (Barry Goldwater Campaign, 1962).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> For these Christians the end always justifies the means as long as it is their ideological ends being supported. And the sad thing about it is that overturning Roe V. Wade will not stop abortions. It will limit who has access to safe abortions because the wives, mistresses, sisters, and daughters of conservative politicians have always had this access and they always will. It is working class and poor women who will suffer and find themselves trapped in the tyranny of motherhood their lack of wealth and health cannot afford or support. These Christians would have been right at home with the Spanish Inquisition. I know these people because I am related to a whole passle of them. At one time in my early teen years I too attended their church and drank the Kool-Aid until I escaped and managed to find my brain which must be checked at the church door. I know how they think, how they pray, and how they justify their support of Trump. Interestingly though, these same folks are now so embarrassed by Trump they are finally silenced, their tongues sticking to the roof of their mouths, except to mumble, "Jesus said it, I believe it, and that is all I need to know" while crossing their fingers behind their backs in prayers of thanks for all the damage their presidential candidate has done to this country as long as their agenda is legitimized. These same majority white folks are so racially fragile that they fear their entire childhood is undermined with the knowledge that Aunt Jemima is a racist trope and not some nice negro woman well paid and happy to be the face of their breakfast syrup and pancakes, and surely was </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">duly remunerated</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as a full and equal partner by the Quaker Oats corporation! My, my...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> According to a thought provoking article in the NY Times newspaper last week, "'</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Gingrich wrote the playbook for it all. The nastiness, the contempt for norms, the transformation of political opponents into enemies. This began forty years ago (1980, Reagan's last term in office as President), with the normalization of personal destruction. The contempt for custom. The media-baiting, the annihilation of bipartisan comity, the delegitimizing of institutions. Gingrich had planted; Trump had reaped,'” writes the Princeton historian Julian Zelizer in the prologue to his forthcoming book, <i>Burning Down the House: Newt Gingrich, the Fall of a Speaker, and the Rise of a New Republican Party </i>(Senior, <b><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/28/opinion/trump-newt-gingrich.html">Trump's Napalm Politics? They Began With Newt</a></b>; NY Times Op-Ed, June 28, 2020). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Follow the money...and it will lead you to the inescapable facts above and paint the ugliest of pictures about the underbelly of American culture and society: It isn't <i>just</i> the economy, stupid! That is the veil under which hides the real issue: it's institutionalized racism for economic benefit of some over others. Until we root it out, expose and acknowledge this publicly in all its many disguises, and America expiates for the sin of genocide and slavery in pursuit of the all mighty dollar, we cannot in my opinion, move forward again as a united nation. </span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-91401436460996300582020-04-06T15:13:00.003+00:002020-04-06T15:54:59.006+00:00Sis July 28th, 1947-March 6th, 2020<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost." ~ Marion C. Garretty</span></i></b><br />
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My big sister, Susan Louise Anderson Muntean, died March 6th. She was a decade older than me, born in 1947 in Williston, North Dakota. We shared the same mom but different fathers. Sis was fine boned and small in body with a blazing spirit, an enormous sense of humor, and a HUGE temper. One did not ever want to get on her bad side because Sis cast a long shadow for a tiny woman.<br />
These are some of the things I remember about my sister:<br />
I recall our mom saying once, "Susie was the prettiest little girl. Blond hair, big blue eyes, and a sunny smile. She knew it too. She thought she could charm the birds out of the trees." My sister was a classically beautiful blonde, petite with long hair--never shorter than shoulder length--nice legs, and a lovely figure. Men flocked to Sis like bees to honey.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sis aged 10 with me, 1957.</span></td></tr>
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With the ten year age difference, my memories are mostly those of a pesky little sister. I remember when I was about four years old, I was fascinated by my sisters' jewelry, perfume, scarves, and lacy slips. There were three of us, with Sharon being four years older than Sis and fourteen years older than me. We had to share a bedroom and whenever I was put to bed for the night and my sisters were out on a date or visiting a friend, I would go through their jewelry boxes, try one their slips, drape their scarves around my neck and spray myself with their perfume--and fall asleep with all the evidence on! I look back now and wonder how on earth they put up with me.<br />
I turned four in 1961 and it was about that time when skin tight jeans and long, straight hair was all the rage. Sis had a summer job and she bought herself several pairs of new Levis which were nearly too small for her. She managed to work herself into them by lying down on the bed, sucking in her stomach until it nearly touched her back bone, and doing up the buttons. Then she filled the bathtub with steaming hot water, laid down in it with her new Levi's on, and let them soak until they shrunk right to her body. She got out and wore them until they dried. It was a little sister-big sister conspiracy. She bribed me with Tootsie Roll pops not to tell mom, who would've been pissed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sis about age fourteen.</span></td></tr>
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I remember Mom saving the large cardboard cans that frozen orange juice concentrate came in so Susan could roll her hair on them and have board-straight locks. She looked so goofy walking around the house in her chenille bathrobe and fluffy pink slippers with ginormous orange juice cans bobby-pinned to her head!<br />
Sis hated doing chores. She ran the sink full of scalding hot water, then sat in the living room with a Photplay magazine reading about the stars while the water cooled off. Hours later the water was cold, the dishes were still dirty, and Sis was in trouble. Susan also took turns with our older sister in babysitting me--another chore she didn't like. For awhile on her nights (our mom worked nights cleaning airplanes out at Anchorage Airport, when it was a simple Quonset hut), Susan would either get her date to pay or she would use some of her own money and take me to a place called The Kitty Drop. It was about five blocks from where we lived and it was a place working parents left their kids. I remember it was dark and full of cribs. I was put into a crib and left there to cry myself to sleep until Sis came back for me. When mom found out what was going on, Sis got into deep trouble. From then on when it was her turn to babysit, Susan would take me with her on her nights out, clearly not telling Mom what she was doing. I remember going to a teenage dance place called the Cinnamon Cinder. It was just a dingy hall with folding chairs around the walls and bands playing music. <span style="font-family: inherit;">The alcohol-free dance club for teenagers opened in 1962. Owned by KRLA disc jockey Bob Eubanks, the club spawned a TV show, a national chain of teen clubs and a hit record by the same name as the club. A year or so later after Sis got her driving license and Mom managed to buy her an old 1950 brown, cloth-top convertible, Sis would make me up a bed on the back seat with my pillow and a blanket, and we would cruise downtown. I remember the traffic lights changing color, and Sis playing music on the Radio: <i>Sugar Shack</i> by Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs, The Beach Boys singing <i>Surfin' USA</i>, <i>Blue Velvet</i> and <i>Blue on Blue </i>crooned by Bobby Vinton, <i>My Boyfriend's Back</i> by The Angels, Peter Paul & Mary singing <i>Puff the Magic Dragon</i> and <i>Blowin' in the Wind</i>, The Four Seasons demanding in harmony that we "<i>Walk Like a Man</i>, <i>Walk Right In</i> by the Rooftop Singers, Sam Cook telling us all about <i>Havin' a Party</i>, <i>Be My Baby</i> crooned the Ronettes, and Nat King Cole singing <i>Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I recall too when KENI radio broadcast from the roof of the Bun Drive-in on Northern Lights Blvd. The Varsity Show with Ron Moore as host was all the rage with Anchorage teens. Sis used to plunk me down on a red leather spinning stool inside the Bun at the curved Formica counter, order me a small burger, fries and a Pepsi, and tell me to stay there until she came back. Susan would disappear up the stairs to the roof and dance to the music. I remember sneaking up and watching her do the Mashed Potato, The Cross Fire and The Pony. Sis was the best dancer there and the prettiest too and the music was fab: <i>The Loco-Motion</i> by Little Eva, <i>Do The Mashed Potatoes</i> by The Fabulous Echoes, and <i>Bony Maroni</i> by Larry Williams. Sis introduced me to Rick and Roll when it was all the new rage. I recall waking up on Halloween morning in 1962 to the radio playing on the bedside table between our beds. As we lie there in the October dark a funny new song debuted: The Monster Mash. We listened fascinated, laughing together at the lyrics. We used to walk everywhere throughout Spenard which was originally a 160 acre homestead of a man name <b><a href="https://www.alaskahistory.org/biographies/spenard-joseph-a-joe/">Joe Spenard</a></b>. Our tiny home was located 2.3 miles south of the city of Anchorage. Across the street from where we lived was a wall of solid forest that ran seven miles east to the foothills of the Chugach mountains and eleven miles north from Merrill Field air strip, South to Rabbit Creek Road. We used to walk up to the new Caribou Ward's department store on the corner of Spenard Road and Northern Lights Boulevard. Next door was a Woolworth's and it had a cafe inside. A couple times a month either mom or Sis would walk with me to Woolworth's and I would get a cup of Campbell's vegetable soup and an orange sherbet ice cream cone. I was about two or three at the time. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Map of Anchorage, Alaska. The yellow highlighted area is Joe Spenard's original homestead site. The turquoise line encompasses everything that was forest when we were children. I not talking about lightly wooded areas but thick forest that stretched seven miles from our home on the corner of 36th Ave, and Arctic Blvd. and the foothills of the Chugach mountain directly east, and elven miles north form Merrill Field air strip south to Rabbit Creek Road. The light green square under Dimond Blvd, is where the Hideaway Club is located. It was the ONLY thing located on this road when we were kids. The small bright blue dot on 35th Ave where the yellow highlight meets the turquoise line is where we lived. The two large green boxes on the far right are the forested acres where the girl and boy scout camps were located--way out of town!</span></td></tr>
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One time Sis made Mom so angry she was put on restriction; for three months Susan could not go anywhere, see anyone, or leave the house. She had to do her chores to Mom's satisfaction, babysit me...and work on patience. One morning two months into her sentence, Sis decided she would super clean the kitchen as a last ditch effort to get a reduced sentence. When Mom walked in the door after work, she looked around at the sparkling kitchen and spotless floor as she hung up her coat. When she turned around Sis popped out of the hallway, bent from the waist, head turned cockeyed, hair streaming down and arms hanging loose. She said in a kind of odd, zombie like voice: "Maaaooottthhher, pleeeeeze will you let me out of the house now?" as she swung her arms and shambled sideways towards our mother who, taken by complete surprise, burst out laughing--the one and only time I ever remember hearing our mother laugh until I was nineteen years old. It worked and Sis was sprung from house arrest.<br />
I recall spying on Sis and her boyfriend Tom when he brought her home from dates and they stood kissing on the porch and how utterly heartbroken Susan was when Tom was drafted and left for Viet Nam. She pledged to wait for him, but it was far better to be gone from our house than caught in it when Mom and our step-father Bill were drinking and fighting, which could be any and all nights of the week and all day on a weekend, and Sis was soon caught up in Spenard night life. I didn't realize until I was a young woman myself, that Sis was fair game for beatings along with our Mom, but not me. For some reason we will never know, Bill wouldn't beat a child. He might grab you up by your ankle, peel off his thin leather belt and whip you all over until you were crying so hard you stuttered for hours afterward, but he saved his fists and steel toed boots for women, which was any female in his house that bled every month.<br />
As soon as Susan could drive she was gone most of the time. Occasionally when our parents had friends over for a party, Sis would stay and have a beer with them until things got out of hand; then she slipped quietly out the door and was gone, my eyes following, wishing I could go with her instead of being left behind in hell.<br />
I know some of the things that happened to my lovely sister out late at night roaming the streets of Anchorage at age fourteen, fifteen and sixteen, when she should have been home in bed asleep, had our home been a happy, loving place. I won't divulge those stories because they are hers--not mine--but I do know they are not pretty. Alaska has always attracted male predators and the ratio has always been eight men to every woman in Anchorage. I recall having to walk the gauntlet of perverts trolling low and slow in their cars, fondling their tackle in anticipation during the endless sunny days of summer when all the neighborhood kids walked a mile and a half to go swimming at Lake Spenard. I remember Sis telling me, "No matter what, you never ever go up to their cars when they call you. Do you understand me?" She would give my skinny little body a good shake to underscore the importance of her words.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cousin Joanne with Mom, 1970's.</span></td></tr>
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Sis looked after me in her fashion.<br />
I recall listening to Susan and our cousin Joanne Plimpton Reinnikka reminiscing over coffee one afternoon when we were all old enough to have children of our own. Joanne and Sis were thick as thieves, very close but they didn't see each other often because Joanne lived way across town from us. To know Cousin Joanne was to love her. She had sparkling brown eyes, dark hair, and a ten-thousand watt smile, and when Jojo laughed the world came along for the ride. Sis said, "Joanne do you recall that winter evening when we put Jackie on your sled and we were pulling her down the street behind us as we chattered like magpies? We had stayed out sledding too long and it was getting dark."<br />
"Oh Susan, I remember thinking the sled felt awfully light to pull and we turned around laughing and there was Jackie all bundled up in her baby suit half a block back in the middle of street waving her arms and legs in the snow! We were so lucky no cars had come along. God was really watching over us."<br />
"Oh Joanne--when I think of it now my heart goes to my throat, but we were just silly little girls out playing in the snow, laughing and having fun. We didn't realize how dangerous things were at that moment."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sis and me, aged 27 and 17, 1975.</span></td></tr>
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Sis was the one I went to for information on birth control, sex, and dealing with life in general. She was my confidant with whom I shared all my firsts, and she opened her home and made a bed on her couch for me more times than I can count when life in the continual front line of household terrorism became too much for me to cope with.<br />
Susan married when I was twelve and she gave birth to my niece Brandy the day after my 13th birthday. I was mesmerized by "our" baby and I loved babysitting for Sis. She is my favorite niece and I loved spending time with her and her mom. Sis trained as my childbirth coach for my first pregnancy.<br />
As the years passed our lives grew apart, but we still managed to make some fabulous, funny memories--ones that I alone am left to remember now. I am so glad I visited Sis last May. We hadn't seen each other for twenty five years--not since our Mom's memorial service. Sis led a hard life due to alcoholism and prescription drug addiction. There were so many things in her childhood if one can even call it that--which left deep trauma in her soul; so many demons chasing her through the snow.<br />
When I was four, we lived on Doorbrandt Street in a wonky little gray house. I loved it because for the first time I could recollect our Mom seemed happy. She would sing as she put groceries away: "Today is the day they give babies away with a half a pound of cheese--absolutely free-a half a pound of cheese!" Mom baked on her days off and she and Bill were still in the new stage of their relationship, not married but co-habitating. Mom had managed to divorce my alcoholic father and I think she believed then, that her life had a slim chance of being happy. Bill decided one late winter weekend that we were going winter camping. I don't remember any other details about that weekend which is strange for me, because I am our family's collective memory and I have memories that stretch back to when I was six months old according to my Mom. What I do remember is that Sis didn't want to go camping with us. At fourteen she would rather stay home where it was warm, and watch TV. Bill talked Mom into letting Susan stay on her own. I remember Mom turning on the porch light and how it created illuminated pools of warm yellow light across the shadowed snow berms and black night. I can close my eyes and hear Mom telling Sis to be sure and lock the door behind her, while she grabbed my arm because there was a huge chunk of ice built up on the threshold to the door. Then we turned, got in the VW bug and drove away.<br />
Mom and Sis thought the door was shut tight and locked but the ice on the threshold was just enough to keep the door from locking. Susan fell asleep on the couch in her cotton nightgown. She woke in the dark with a man's hands around her throat, choking her. He had women's stocking pulled over his head, distorting his features. Susan fought for her life, managed to break the man's hold, jump over the back of the couch and was out the door in a heartbeat, running barefoot down Doorbrandt street at 3:00 AM in minus 10 degree weather, looking for a house with a porch light on, looking behind her to see if the man was chasing her. She pounded on doors until someone woke and answered. We moved out of the little grey house shortly afterward, to the house on McKinley Ave. where life grew bitter and angry; a twisted seed watered with alcohol and violence, punctuated with knives and guns, our Mom calling for help whenever Bill beat her.<br />
Sis had never had any form of counseling for the terrible trauma she survived. Back in 1961 no one even heard of mental health or trauma counseling or knew that such events could cause PTSD. Sis always maintained that her attacker was someone she knew. She couldn't see his face but she knew his voice. He was never found and Susan spent a lifetime living in Anchorage, fearing he would return. She could never again bear to be alone at night and she began drinking to shut down her fear.<br />
I also knew Sis had never talked with anyone about how horrible our childhood was. People back then simply didn't discuss such things, and certainly not when the abuser threatened to make sure you wouldn't wake up in the morning if you told anyone what went on in our house. So part of my visit last summer was to bring up our childhood and open Pandora's box. I wanted to give my sister the gift of acknowledgement: recognition of the facts as we remembered them individually and together, and permission to speak about those terrible things, to weep, get angry, and be sad and let it out. Susan carried that awful burden from age five to age seventy two and I wanted to find some way to help her lighten the burden.<br />
It was good, our visit. We did all of the above, revisiting some of our favorite memories together too. We were so lucky to live in Spenard when we did--before "civilization" arrived, cut down the forests, paved everything over, Anchorage swallowed up Spenard, and flat-landers from the lower forty eight states moved up in the many thousands to escape their suburban nightmares and turned Anchorage into the same soulless urban landscape they left behind.<br />
We both love Led Zeppelin and we put on their music and danced, two old ladies feeling the weight of decades falling away, young and beautiful again for the length of a song. We also made new memories with plans for a few more. We went shopping together and I introduced her to Lush. We played Gin Rummy in the evenings, while listening to a host of good rock and roll which I made for her from my computer music library. I met her best friend Kim and her husband. We all had dinner together, reminiscing about having moms who were school lunch ladies, and the Good Friday Quake in 1964, and growing up in Spenard. Susan and I went for walks and talked about a world of ideas, laughing like crazy, sarcastic old women do when they have seen it all. I am so grateful to have countless wonderful memories of Sis that make me smile through my tears. I've never laughed harder in my life than with Sis and Les. I carry them both in my heart.<br />
Susan was going to come down to Gresham in June to visit for a few weeks. I called her a week before she died and we talked for over an hour, singing The Witch Doctor song to each other and laughing like giddy girls; "Ooh-eee-ooh-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang!" We were planning to visit the ocean together. We wanted to rent a yurt and camp out with my daughter Sparky, my daughter-in-law Kelli, and my foster daughter Mary. We planned to smoke a bowl, eat some good grub, do a bit of hiking, lots of laughing, and enjoy the seashore...but it was not to be. I only hope Sis' death was quick, painless, and her spirit has risen with joy to find a place far better than we knew in this world.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-58265981820891068332020-03-25T22:09:00.000+00:002020-03-31T19:40:50.626+00:00I Cannot Help But Wonder...<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be." ~F.Scott Fitzgerald, American Author, 1896-1940</span></i></b><br />
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The quote for this post and it's title refer to Les. In the final months of his life Dear Sir wondered often about what amazing and wonderful things the future without him would herald. There is no way he ever considered the future marred by global climate change and a pandemic. I do find myself having conversation with him now, in my head.<br />
"What do you think about the current state of affairs my love?" I see his spirit looking at the world from wherever it may be now, considering a much larger picture than I can see from my own myopic viewpoint. I suspect Les would be shocked and terribly saddened, frightened for those he loves, and angry. Were he still alive we would be on board NB Valerie and he would feel as I do, that living aboard on the cut is one of the safest places we could possibly be during a pandemic. With his near encyclopedic knowledge of the canals Les would have chosen the best place for us to fetch up in order to wait things out, move once a week to fill with water and empty the rubbish, and get groceries delivered. We would have faced the fear and uncertainty together gathering strength from each other.<br />
Meanwhile my friends and loved ones on boats have issues of their own to contend with; the ubiquitous usage of the towpath by non-boaters for jogging, bicycling, and walking groups along with dog walkers all crowding in along a narrow towpath to escape the lock-down and get some fresh air and exercise. Never mind they pass within two feet of people on boats who need to get off and on unimpeded and attempt to do so while obeying the six foot self-isolation rule. After all boaters aren't real people are they? Its only a puppet!! (Brits will know to what exactly I am alluding with this statement!)<br />
I always found it comical when Les would bring us in to moor somewhere that appeared to be way out in the country and by the time we had properly moored up at least eight people and their dogs would walk past on the towpath, and that was on a weekday in mid-morning! I've been woken many mornings by townies standing out on the towpath by the boats, dogs running loose to piddle while their owner takes that moment at 6:30 AM to call someone and have a conversation loud enough to be heard five boats down, completely oblivious to the fact that people actually are on those boats, curtains closed, asleep in bed--or they were before the dog walker decided to have a conversation on the cut. Below is the latest poster from Canal River Trust (CRT) regarding this issue:<br />
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My email inbox receives a daily news update from the New York Times newspaper. Yesterday's update included a link called <b><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/03/23/world/coronavirus-great-empty.html?campaign_id=154&emc=edit_cb_20200323&instance_id=17011&nl=coronavirus-briefing&regi_id=82636904&segment_id=22674&te=1&user_id=a7914228221de062fa10cf422336e0f5">The Great Empty,</a></b> of photos taken around the world of famous cities and sites eerily empty of human beings.<br />
Looking online I came across a Youtube video someone filmed of seven minutes on a double-decker bus through London's Westminster, Trafalgar Square, Picadilly Circus, and Oxford Circus. I am familiar with this route as Les and I traveled it by bus quite a few times on our three forays into London by boat. This was filmed two days ago. It was seeing London so empty that got me to thinking about Les. Having been born and raised in Paddington (West London), Dear Sir loved showing me the great city and I loved finding new things that surprised him. I can imagine Les' face, watching the video with me, astonished and shocked at the empty streets and the abandoned feeling at Westminster Underground station which usually has people boiling up out of it like ants out of a giant underground mound. Nearly nine million people live in The Big Smoke and one million more commute in and out daily with 2.56 million cars licensed in London. No trouble getting a seat on the bus these days!<br />
For Americans reading this blog who have never been to Britain, I urge you to pay careful attention to the signal lights. There are three sets of lights for each direction, mounted on three different posts on each side of the street! British signal lights turn green-yellow-red-yellow-green. Why the extra yellow you might ask? I was told it was to signal the driver that the light was about to turn green! I could not for the life of me understand why this was necessary until I discovered that British drivers are supposed to use their parking brake each time they stop.<br />
Notice the lack of street signs with actual names of streets in plain view, and how directions are written on the lanes. Notice too how narrow the streets and the buses appear! The video begins with Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament across the Thames on the left. Watch this in full screen view so you can stop it to really look at things as the journey presses on. Look closely and you will see signs about half way up on the outer walls of buildings at each junction or intersection, which is where the actual street names are located. See if you can easily spot crosswalks in the video. In London they tend to be at the top of the lanes by the signal lights but everywhere else they are located back down the lane before the actual intersection.<br />
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Notice how quiet things are on the bus, and how stunningly free of litter and clean the streets are without humans everywhere. Below is a video of what Oxford Circus Underground station is usually like!<br />
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Finally I leave you all with a link to <b><a href="https://us2.campaign-archive.com/?u=c08ef454843b725b8f48b4e48&id=5b06d7160d&e=eb8f5ad322">The Londonist</a></b>. It's a great blog to follow for all things London. Today's posts offers a link to their free Youtube channel with all kinds of interesting videos about London's floating village, secrets of The Victoria Line (Underground), a search for 221B Baker Street for Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson fans, a look at Europe's largest Sikh temple, London's old and new pagans, the secrets of Borough Market, and several other very entertaining and informative videos. Stay safe, stay well!<br />
Love Jaq xxx<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-82338567091234432882020-03-24T18:38:00.001+00:002020-03-24T18:48:20.288+00:00Grocery Roulette<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">“Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.” Lemony Snickett, pen name of American writer and musician Daniel Handler</span></i></b><br /><br /> How are things where you are??? Here in the Pacific Northwest (PNW) of the United States, the Army National Guard has been called in to assist Washington State with its pandemic response, along with California, and New York over on the eastern seaboard. We in Oregon are under a Shelter-in-place order with 30 days in jail and a $1200.00 fine possible although that will occur as a last resort.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This became necessary as people incomprehensibly got into their vehicles and flocked to sites of natural beauty like <a href="https://katu.com/news/local/multnomah-falls-closing-citing-coronavirus-pandemic"><b>Multinomah Falls</b></a> and the<b> </b><a href="https://katu.com/news/local/amid-coronavirus-pandemic-crowds-flock-to-oregon-coast-concerning-residents"><b>coast</b>,</a> 98 miles away, to hang out in the several hundreds, because you know, if you are on a suggested self-isolating order in your county why not drive to another county and take a chance at sharing Covid-19 with them? I know the same thing occurred in Britain yesterday, for the same reason. <br /> I found it necessary to go out for groceries yesterday. I checked online and Safeway opened at 6 am, Fred Meyers at 7 AM. I opted for Safeway and at 6:15 AM I pulled into the car park in the pre-dawn dark. The doors were locked and a note said they would not be opened until 7 AM as they are using the hour from 6-7 in the morning to clean and disinfect the store each day. I looked inside and I could see employees wiping down everything is sight. I should have just waited there...<br /> I allowed impatience to guide me a fifteen minute drive through downtown Gresham to Fred Meyers--a large box store. There were only seven of us waiting in the car park at 6:30 AM. By 6:50 the entire side of the parking lot was full of cars. People parked in the pearly grey dawn, got out with their shopping bags and I noticed three distinct things: they were all senior citizens, many were disabled, and most wore either masks, gloves, or both. Then a curious thing happened. These vulnerable people clustered at the locked doors of the store in a large group! It was eerily like a scene from Dawn of the Dead Zombie Apocalypse. <br /> I waited ten minutes until most of them had disbursed and then grabbed my grocery bags and headed inside. It took me about thirty minutes to fill my cart and buy some of what I needed. The shelves were mostly still empty; only four packages of boneless, skinless chicken limited to 2 packages per person. Plenty of packages of chicken wings, legs and thighs with the skin and bones still in them. <br /> I discovered that women and men maneuver their shopping carts differently. Women are more careful. They look to see who is around them and gently swerve around each other. Men just plow through assuming they have the right-of-way. As I was standing in front of a mostly empty shelf looking for tinned fish, a man without a mask or gloves squatted down very close to me, brushing my leg as he reached for something on the back of a bottom shelf. <br /> "Hey! You are too close, Please move back."<br /> "Gee," he said as he scratched his head, "I didn't think about that."<br />Really???? I got the hell out of there ASAP and decided to swing by Safeway near our apartment for the missing grocery items on my list. I drive down Powell Boulevard and usually turn left on Powell Loop to take the shortcut back home. The Loop was blocked by multiple police vehicles with fire trucks and EMT rigs behind them. I carried on to Safeway and was pleasantly surprised. The store was nearly empty, the air was redolent of disinfectant, and the shelves and coolers were fully stocked. As I shopped I noticed employees removing the skirting panels on refrigeration units and disinfecting underneath and behind them. Safeway has instituted a Tuesday and Thursday 7-9 AM shopping time for seniors and other vulnerable people. I brought latex gloves with me and I put them on after I loaded my groceries on the belt to pay for them. I pulled my debit card out of my wallet , inserted it into the machine with my left hand, punched in my phone number, said no to a donation, and no to cash back, and then punched in my PIN with my right hand. I pulled my card out with my left hand and returned it to my wallet, and then removed both gloves to load my bags into the cart. I have no idea how often those debit card reader machines are cleaned but I wasn't taking any chances!<br /> I took the back way to our apartment; as I turned onto Pleasant View Drive, I looked back down towards Powell Loop and a school bus was pulled off the road, hazard lights blinking with a road hazard sign blocking the lanes. Beyond it were scores of Police, Firefighters and EMTs in clutches around their vehicles. I looked for news of the incident later on but never did find out what had transpired.<br /> Back at the apartment I unloaded groceries and the girls took them inside while I parked. I sprayed my hands with sanitizer, opened the apartment door, sprayed the outside handle, closed the door, sprayed the inside handle and my hands again. I pit my coat and my clothes in the wash and took a hot shower. I have a dry cough--but I've had it for several months along with a slightly phleghmy cough I always have every morning due to post nasal drip, but I find myself monitoring the rest of my body responses throughout each day. This is the first time in my entire life when I have been frightened to enter a grocery store, aware that my actions and my choices could result in my death or that of someone I love.<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-26636854911153016302020-03-19T22:42:00.000+00:002020-03-19T22:58:14.674+00:00Pandemic!!<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"I don't think pandemics make us afraid of death, I think they make us afraid of oblivion. They force us to grapple with the futility of effort. Also they make us barf which isn't fun either. Wash your hands, cover your coughs, and find a way to hold in balance, the futility of effort with the necessity to struggle." ~John Green, American author (Looking For Alaska, The Fault in Our Stars). </span></i></b><br /><br /> Without an adequate response an epidemic can develop into a pandemic, which generally means it has spread to more than one continent. An important thing to remember is that people and gorillas, horses, duikers, pigs, monkeys, chimps, bats and viruses: we are all in this together. It is time for humanity to let go of the ancient idea that we are somehow separate from nature. Covid-19 is not a wake up call; we are way past that. The majority of humans have not been paying attention. We are now, but too many are waking up to the wrong reasons and behaving like the virus that is hunting us.<br /> Thursday March 12th I listened to an emergency radio broadcast featuring the Governor of the State of Oregon, the Oregon State Public Health Officer, and the Mayor of Portland. We were told that all schools were closing, self -isolating was required, and electric, water, sewer, and rubbish will stay on whether or not folks could pay their bills. The White House also released a notice that the country was now functioning under a national emergency. It was time to get serious about Covid-19.<br /> I had been seeing and hearing reports of panic buying and hoarder shopping taking place in various countries already struck by the virus and in some States here as well, but I shrugged it off reasoning that if I didn't panic and waited a few days, common sense would no doubt prevail and I could calmly go about my weekly shop for the four of us. With the emergency notice, I decided on Friday the 13th to go out early and get groceries for the week. I vastly over-estimated my Gresham, Oregon neighbors. a light snowfall over night and that morning didn't help.<br /> Portlandians and their suburban neighbors absolutely melt down if there is 1/8th of an inch of snow on the ground. That alone will trigger panic buying at Coscto. As I cautiously set off on the main road I was shocked as people drove like they were drunk; weaving around other vehicles gong slower, and speeding way too fast in a 35 MPH zone down hill with wet snow accumulating. I drove the quarter mile to Safeway grocers and the parking lot was rammed! I joined the queue and finally pulled in to a parking space. I grabbed my bags, locked my car and walked into the store.<br /> There were no shopping carts left! The last one was being fought over by a young mom with two small children, from whose hands a large, beefy bloke was trying to wrest it. People coming in behind me went to her aid. I continued into the store and headed for the toilet paper aisle because we actually need a six roll pack! I walked into hell. People had their faces covered with scarves, bandannas, and medical masks, panic shining form their eyes like a fever. They were bumping into others with their cart, shoving, and knocking down aisle displays. There was shattered glass and splattered food in almost every aisle, with store employees frantically attempting to keep people from driving their carts down those aisle and through the mess. I quickly left and decided to drive to Fred Meyers which is a large box chain grocers. It was exceedingly crowded there too but controlled chaos ruled, with store employees out in the aisles to assist and to keep an eye on behavior.<br /> No loo roll at all! As I stood looking at the bare shelves, a woman came up next to me and surveyed the scene. We began chatting about how ridiculous this hoarding behavior was; how that behavior was now forcing those of us who were attempting to remain calm into buying more than we needed immediately as well, in case others simply stripped the stores bare. I said I guessed I would try Coscto next. She replied, "Don't bother; I just came from there. You know things are serious when Costco's shelves are empty." All right then...<br /> I rolled my cart over to the diaper aisle and decided to stock up in baby wipes. There were two shelves left. A couple came up behind me and the wife said, "Oooh! baby wipes will work in place of toilet paper." Her husband sighed and said, "No honey we can't use those; they don't flush." I said a quiet prayer of thanks as they moved on. I stopped using loo roll years ago, only using compostable baby wipes and I always place them in the rubbish bin and empty it regularly. I bought $40.00 worth of baby wipes for our two bathrooms and four people. The pack of 56 wipes I would pay £1.00 for in the U.K. sells in the U.S. for $3.59 each, which quickly adds up when buying a case.<br /> I was shocked at the empty aisles: no kitchen roll, tissue, bottled water, bread, convenience foods such as canned chili, and Kraft Mac and Cheese, Ramen, pasta, milk, prepared spaghetti sauce--all shelves were empty. People were lined up by the fresh meat section because the entire frozen meat and chicken section was bare. I considered the situation and noticed that no one was buying the Bison meat so I stocked up on ground, steaks, and roasts, with a few other essentials; plenty of fresh fruit and veg too, and I cook from scratch so we will be okay. I guess this is a time to consider Crohn's disease a blessing in disguise because the Gluten Free and vegan products remain on the shelves.<br /> That evening my foster daughter Mary went out to look for loo roll, two percent and lactose free milk, and cat food. She had to visit four stores to get everything. She picked up two-20 lb. bags of food for the cats and my daughter-in-law Kelli ordered two bags of specialty dog food online as the dog has multiple allergies. We also stocked up on cat litter, keeping some of the extras in our cars for storage.<br /> Each day now we all check the latest news upon waking. My daughter Shiery works four 12 hour shifts a week as a medical technician at an assisted living facility with a frail at-risk population. Her usual commute time is forty minutes to drive fifteen miles. Nationwide now the emergency law is that no visitors are allowed at these facilities except medical personnel or families if it is end-of-life. Shiery fears that a mandatory lock-down will be called while she is at work. The governor of Oregon announced last night that she is considering this very step. Shiery is also at-risk herself with two auto-immune diseases and Diabetes. My daughter-in-law Kelli works as a pharmacy technician for a large wholesale pharmacy chain which fills large orders for assisted living facilities. She has a an hour commute across the I-205 bridge and over the Columbia River to Vancouver, Washington, across the river from Portland. We fear that Washington or Oregon will close their border while Kelli is at work and she will be stuck away from home. She too is part of the at-risk population with Type I Diabetes, asthma, and Psoriatic arthritis. As far as that goes, I am also at-risk for being older and having two auto-immune diseases. I keep my trips outside to a minimum, grocery shopping early in the morning or late at night when it is least busy. </span><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I went out last night at 8 pm to round up my week's shopping. There were only a handful of us in Safeway; all older or disabled. We were all smiling at each other as we politely kept our six foot distance, carts swerving gently around one another, folks patiently waiting down the aisles for other folks to get something from a shelf and move on. As I was stopped in an empty aisle to find Parma strained tomatoes, I suddenly felt someone right behind me. I whirled around to find a young 20-something on her phone, obtusely focused in on looking for a product, right at my knees. I wanted to shout, "FFS back up and give me my six feet you self absorbed child!" I gave her a look and quickly moved on out of the aisle.<br /> Viruses are tricky things. They are not really alive. They can build a protective outer walls around themselves and go dormant--sometimes for thousands of years--until just the right environment presents itself and then they magically wake up, open their border walls and begin infecting hosts and they are constantly evolving as they exchange DNA with prospective hosts. I figure I am going to contract it at some point along the way. Let us hope Covid-19 evolves into something less virulent and not more deadly. There are news reports already that Influenza H1N2 is now stalking those that are recovering form Covid-19 but whose lungs are still fragile.<br /> In the meantime there are blessings to be discovered in all this. With the world population either in hospital or cocooning itself in mandatory isolation, and the lack of world traveling and tourism, nature is beginning to show us how it can recover when humans are not overwhelming and assaulting the environment constantly. The canals of Venice are clear once more. Venetians can see fish swimming in the water, and swans and dolphins have returned. In China, people can actually see blue skies for the first time in years without the ubiquitous clouds of pollution that blanket the country. In Italy, France, Spain and China people can again hear birdsong in city centers.<br /> As we stay home and self isolate I offer you these virtual ideas for entertainment, enjoyment, and stretching of your minds:<br /><br />1.<b><a href="https://images.nasa.gov/">The NASA Media Library</a>:</b> the entire media library of NASA--all photos and videos, are available for free online. Indulge the budding astrophysicist in yourself or entertain your inner star seeker!<br /><br />2.<b><a href="https://storytimefromspace.com/"> Story Time From Space!</a> </b> Check out this amazing online site that has astronauts at the Space station reading children's stories such as Astronaut Annie, Kalifa and Ahmal Go to Space, Max Viaja a Marte, Lucian Braving the Deep, and other interesting titles. This is a great site to entertain kids.<br /><br />3. <a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/partner"><b>500 Museums!</b></a> There are five hundred museums around the world aavilable for you to wander through online, including the British Museum in London, The Guggenheim in New York, The National Art Gallery of Washington DC, the Musée d’Orsay, Paris, The National Musem of Modern and Contemporary Art in Seoul, Korea, The Pergamon Museum in Berlin, Germany, the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, the J Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy, The Museu de Arte de São Paulo, Brazil, and the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City!!!<br /><br />4. <b><a href="https://seattlesymphony.org/live">Seattle Symphony Live </a><a href="https://seattlesymphony.org/live">Broadcasts</a>.</b> This web site offers information and schedules of shows/music as well as how to view the live performances on Youtube and FaceBook. <br /><br />5. <b><a href="http://www.openculture.com/">Open Culture!</a> </b>Open Culture brings together high-quality cultural & educational media for the worldwide lifelong learning community. Web 2.0 has given us great amounts of intelligent audio and video. It's all free. It's all enriching. But it's also scattered across the web, and not easy to find. Our whole mission is to centralize this content, curate it, and give you access to this high quality content whenever and wherever you want it. This website offers free access to 1500 free online courses from top universities, 1150 free movies online including classics, film noir, Indies, Westerns and many more! You can access 1000 free downloadable audio books, 800 free ebooks for Kindle, iPad and other devices, MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses), many of which leads to certificates or statements of completion though not degrees. A "$" indicates that the course is free, but the credential costs money. Learn 46 languages online for free and access 200 free kid;s educational resources with video lessons, books, apps, websites and more. <br /><br />6.<a href="https://www.nfb.ca/explore-all-films/"> <b>The National Film Board of Canada</b></a><b>.</b> To access free films please find the word AVAILABILITY on the page tool bar and click the arrow so the menu unfolds. "Free" is one of your options. Currently this site offers free short films (5-30 minutes) featuring First Nations and Native Americans under Indigenous Cinema. This is a fabulous resource, especially for those of us who like documentary films. <br /><br />7. <b><a href="https://www.operadeparis.fr/en">The Paris Opera!</a> </b>From 17 March, the Paris Opera will be putting its most beautiful shows from its archives online free of charge. From Don Giovanni to Swan Lake and The Tales of Hoffmann, there are many great classics to see or rediscover from home. The website can be viewed en Francais or English. Their schedule of upcoming events is available on this web site and includes: Don Giovani, Manon, Das Rheingold, Die Valkyrie, and other performances. <br /><br />8<b>. <a href="https://www.montereybayaquarium.org/animals/live-cams/">The Monteray Bay Aquarium!</a> </b>You may have had to cancel your spring vacation, but you still can (virtually) visit the aquatic animals housed at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Peek at the groups of jellyfish and sharks, do some bird watching in the Aviary, follow the African penguins as they waddle around, and catch a glimpse at the pulsing moon jellies all through the institutions’ free live streams. And for close-ups of the species, head to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/montereybayaquarium/">Instagram</a>. (via <a href="https://laughingsquid.com/live-video-streams-from-monterey-bay-aquarium/">Laughing Squid</a>).<br /><br />9.<b> <a href="https://www.storylineonline.net/library/">Storyline Online!</a> </b>The SAG-AFTRA Foundation’s award-winning children’s literacy website, Storyline Online, streams videos featuring celebrated actors reading children’s books alongside creatively produced illustrations. Readers include Viola Davis, Chris Pine, Lily Tomlin, Kevin Costner, Annette Bening, James Earl Jones, Betty White and dozens more. <br /><br />10.<b> <a href="https://www.growforagecookferment.com/start/">Grow Forage Cook Ferment! </a></b>This web site is a fabulous resource for recipes and Youtube videos showing how to make Mead, hand made soap, herbal salves, Chickweed Pesto, and loads of other interesting and helpful things. <br /><br />11.<b> <a href="http://wildflowerfinder.org.uk/">British Wildflower Finder.</a></b> this comprehensive web site was created and is maintained by Roger Darlington, a friend of boater Chris Thorp (<b>NB Ceiriog</b>). It is brilliant and easy to use. I posted this specifically for all my British friends, family and loved ones. As you are out walking along towpaths or National Trust properties, or public walkways through the glorious British countryside you may come across a plant you don't recognize and this site may be quite helpful. xxx<br /><br />12. <b><a href="https://youtu.be/U7ryO6E7ZUw">Teaching young children the </a><a href="https://youtu.be/U7ryO6E7ZUw">importance</a><a href="https://youtu.be/U7ryO6E7ZUw"> of washing their hands!</a> </b>I found this simple video the perfect teaching moment to illustrate to young children, the importance of washing our hands. To replicate it for your children and grandchildren all you need is a shallow bowl or plate, pepper, liquid hand or dish soap, and water. Explain that the pepper in the bowl is pretending to be a virus. Follow the video and watch young children become startled and amazed! <br /><br />Finally, <b>today is Les' 72nd birthday</b>. We are remembering my Best Beloved at dinner tonight with one of his favorite meals: Three Sisters Chicken and Chorizo Casserole. Unfortunately I couldn't bake his favorite Carrot cake as we are half packed and in the process of moving to a new, larger apartment soon. Happy birthday baby! You are missed and loved, always. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d_M7LHZogvNWXMNPEvQAQS1CxDTA6UCSr48WPMuWa17WJk0mLBlTODj9R6lgdZBJtvko-Sr_ncPsTlY4EekMv1xnxw3smw8vEbhPakb-MF7OOVxbQlD5sXxs2CQcZpyA5cOz/s1600/Les+looks+out+the+window+on+the+Lee+4.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d_M7LHZogvNWXMNPEvQAQS1CxDTA6UCSr48WPMuWa17WJk0mLBlTODj9R6lgdZBJtvko-Sr_ncPsTlY4EekMv1xnxw3smw8vEbhPakb-MF7OOVxbQlD5sXxs2CQcZpyA5cOz/s640/Les+looks+out+the+window+on+the+Lee+4.jpg" /></a> <br />Les at the dinette in April 2013. We were moored up on the Lea navigation just near Waltham. I love that look on his sweet face! </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-8894952722029431202020-02-28T04:37:00.002+00:002020-02-28T04:44:06.368+00:00The Tale of the Tumbling Tumbleweeds<span style="color: #351c75;"><i><b style="font-family: inherit;">"And the wind blows, the dust clouds darken the desert blue, pale sand and red dust drift across the asphalt trails and tumbleweeds fill the arroyos. Good-bye, come again." ~Edward Abbey, American author and </b><b>environmental</b><b style="font-family: inherit;"> essayist, 1927-1989</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> It is 347 miles from Gresham, Oregon to Spokane, Washington. The route takes one along the Columbia River Gorge and then Northeast up onto the Columbia River plateau and across several hundred miles of arid bush land and high desert; mostly flat but </span>punctuated<span style="font-family: inherit;"> with basalt mesas and canyons. It is the kind of topography that seems empty a lot of the time and vast, sending one's mind back into the far past when there were no Europeans or their offspring on this continent. This is sagebrush and Tumbleweed country.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> A young, confident driver can make the trip in just over five hours; I have driven it in five hours thirty years ago but not anymore; it takes me eight hours now with several toilet stops, a couple of rest stops to put my seat all the way back and close my eyes for thirty minutes, and a lunch hour detour. I tell myself this is fine. It is </span>perfectly<span style="font-family: inherit;"> acceptable. I am no longer young and I have health issues that make travel more nightmare than vacation. I hear boater Alan Fincher over in the U.K., after Les' death, cautioning me not to be so driven. His warning echoes in my thoughts frequently. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I made a trip up to Spokane last Sunday to spend a couple of days with a dear friend--one of the Wednesday Women--who has </span>received<span style="font-family: inherit;"> a cancer diagnosis. We got together for lunch and to bask in the warmth of deep friendship in the face of frightening news. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The weather forecast for Sunday from the <b><a href="https://forecast.weather.gov/MapClick.php?lat=45.5061&lon=-122.4353#.XlglVnHQhZh">NOAA</a></b> (National Atmospheric and Oceanic </span>Administration<span style="font-family: inherit;">) weather page included a Hazardous weather warning for Eastern Oregon, Eastern and Central Washington. High winds of 50-60 MPH and rain with snow mixed in higher elevations. Sigh...there was nothing for it but to begin the trip and hope for the best.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The "always-green" of Western Oregon. This is a shot of the Columbia River from an overlook about thirty miles East of Gresham. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I Left Gresham under roiling, dark clouds and pissing down rain with wind gusts in the 40's. </span>A large storm front rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, ninety eight miles West of Portland and funneled the weather towards us along the Columbia Gorge. <span style="font-family: inherit;">The winds picked up as I traveled 102 miles to John Day Dam, crossing from the always-green rain forest </span>topography<span style="font-family: inherit;"> of Western Oregon into the arid brush land of Eastern Oregon. I stopped once already to rest my eyes for thirty minutes and the winds worsened while I checked my eyelids for holes. At John Day Dam, the rain fell away as I ascended onto the Columbia Plateau, but the wind increased and the car began rocking and vibrating in the high winds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Tumbleweeds appeared and I experienced a very strange phenomena: the dried, skeletal shrubs appeared to have come alive! They trembled in the wind, at the side of the freeway like shaggy, frightened animals waiting for a gap between cars in order to spin across the blacktop of two lanes and make it in one piece to the other side. Most of the Tumbleweeds were small and easily shattered against the front of the car but traffic slowed from 70 MPH to about 65. Then I came around a large curve and the wind changed direction, coming from </span>directly<span style="font-family: inherit;"> behind both lanes of traffic. As I came out of the curve I was astonished (as was the driver in the lane next to me whose mouth dropped into an astonished O), to see tumbleweeds filling both lanes in front of us, racing along as though to some invisible </span>finish<span style="font-family: inherit;"> line far ahead. We could not drive through them; we could only pace ourselves and drive along behind the spinning herd. Several miles on, the road curved again and the tumbleweeds continued to roll off the freeway and catch on the fencing </span>separating<span style="font-family: inherit;"> our traffic lanes from those heading in the opposite direction. Soon enough the fence wore a prickly sweater of various size and colored weeds, giant sweater pills stuck to the fence for hundreds of miles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Approaching Biggs Junction (yes you read that right!) the sky darkened appreciably as a giant dust storm kicked off, spreading for 118 miles of driving with the headlights on and a slowed speed of 50 MPH. It was like driving at night only the dark was a swirling blanket of dirt kicked up by the winds. Tumbleweeds still careened across the road and drivers were swerving to try and miss the larger weed balls. I finally merged onto I-82 and then crossed into Washington and onto Highway 395 North. Two large semi trucks had flipped over on the opposite side of the freeway and it looked like the apocalypse outside: dozens of police cruisers with lights flashing, the dirt-dark sky closing in everywhere and tumbleweeds shooting across the landscape like round mortars shot from a rocket launcher. Traffic was backed up for twenty seven miles all the way back into Kennewick. People were milling around in the flying dirt with shirts and scarves pulled over their faces; a crazy zig-zag of headlights on stopped cars strung along highway 395 from the </span>scene<span style="font-family: inherit;"> of the second overturned rig all the way back over the Blue Bridge into town. I kept a steady pace of fifty MPH and finally made it into Kennewick where I planned to stop for lunch. It was 1:58 PM, dark as evening outside and my Subaru Outback shuddered and shook with the wind gusts. The metal signal light post hanging across the road ahead bounced up and down as if an invisible hand was moving it. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">As you can see, the signal light arms are not exactly flimsy things. It takes a big wind to make those steel poles bob up and down like a a child bobbing for apples. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> After lunch I struck out again and didn't see blue skies and true daylight for another forty miles after finally passing the last of the giant </span>commercial<span style="font-family: inherit;"> agro-farms and packing plants that are spread across the face of the high desert, existing only because of the </span><b><a href="https://www.usbr.gov/main/about/mission.html">Columbia<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Basin </span>Reclamation</a></b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://www.usbr.gov/main/about/mission.html"> project</a>.</b> Begun in 1943, it services 671,000 acres, allowing fruit and vegetable crops to be grown on high desert land with irrigation from the mighty Columbia River.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Tumbleweeds still bounced, swirled, raced and spun across the road and would continue for another forty one miles until I merged on to Interstate 90 at Ritzville. Two and half hours later I was heading down Sunset Hill into Spokane--a site for very sore eyes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> The visit was bittersweet. I love my Rise Up Sisters as the </span>Wednesday<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Women are also called. We lost two of our number last year to the </span>vicissitudes<span style="font-family: inherit;"> of old age. We do not want to lose another one. Spending time in the company of Kialynn, Rhea, Gina, (Marian and Rosemarie are dead now) has always fed my intellect. They are women of great thought, good deeds, and deep creativity. Time with them nourishes my spirit. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Wednesday Women, Left to right: Kialynn, Marian (seated), Lisa, Rosemarie, Gina (seated), and Rhea, 2013.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Mt. Hood from I-84 driving West, just outside of The Dalles, Oregon</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I am happy to report that for the most part the drive home was a lot less harrowing. The sun was out, the skies were blue, and the wind was calm. Mt. Hood, a partially active strato-volcano and one of the tallest peaks in the Continental USA, appeared suddenly just West of Arlington. It looked like a tall white shark's tooth jutting up in the far distance. As I continued on Westward towards Portland, the mountain popped in and out of view, growing larger as my car ate up the miles. I was astonished at how the </span>tumbleweeds<span style="font-family: inherit;"> seemed to have vanished from the landscape! Perhaps they are lying in wait down in the canyons criss-crossing Washington's central basin. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-66449828307787168512020-02-19T21:06:00.000+00:002020-02-19T21:06:32.917+00:00Settling Into Oregon<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream." ~Edgar Allen Poe; American Writer, editor, and literary critic (1809-1849)</span></i></b><br />
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I've been living in Gresham, Oregon now since mid-December. I am pleased to be a help to my flat mates: my youngest daughter Sparky, my daughter-in-law Kelli, and my foster daughter Mary, who refers to me as her Pond Mom, since I lived across the pond in Britain. We all share a similar sensibility and sense of humor. Life is tough these days in the USA and it takes everyone contributing and pooling resources to make ends meet. I make the weekly menus and the grocery lists, purchase the groceries, and cook the meals. Now my chickens, as I call my girls, are eating proper meals. Before I moved in they were eating fast food and prepared processed food products from the grocery mart. Each of them works a different shift so someone is always coming in or heading out.<br />
I also live with a herd of felines! I am over the moon to live with cats again. I am the mobile petting station, as their food bowl is on a table near the end of the couch which is also my bed. Like furry sharks, the felines circle past me on their way to the food bowl, the litter boxes, and the dog's water bowl which they drink out of, getting up on their hind legs and leaning in to the bowl. From behind the cats appear to be scrying in the water which cracks me up. I have developed a relationship with each one and they with me.<br />
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I have been saving ideas for this blog on bits of paper and I finally sat down with them all, determined to get this post written. Without further delay here are some interesting things that have crossed my path in the past two months:<br />
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<b>1. <a href="https://www.relaxmelodies.com/">Relax Melodies</a>.</b> My oldest daughter introduced me to this app by Ipnos and I love it. It is a sleep application which I downloaded to Les' Kindle Fire. There are graphics that look like the wooden blocks that hang on the end of chimes. Each one plays a different sound. One can choose as many sounds as one wants, layering them together to save as mixes to play when one wants help to fall asleep. My mixes include layered sounds with names like Night River Owls, which reminds me of mooring up on NB Valerie near the woods with owls hooting at night. Wind Chime Storm layers a delicate wind chime with the sounds of a thunder storm and rain. Evening Chorus is a layer of lapping water, owls, frogs croaking, Loons calling, and crickets. Cottage Sonata layers wind in trees, wind chimes, fire crackling, and a river. I find it extremely difficult to shut my mind off and fall asleep. This app is incredibly relaxing and effective. You can try it for free which gives one access to about fifteen sounds. I bought an annual subscription for $23.00 and have access to over thirty sounds.<br />
<b>2. </b><a href="https://youtu.be/ag05JyILaNs"><b>1 Tac Safety Lights/Roadside Discs</b>.</a> While these amazingly tough lights were developed for use in vehicles as accident hazard lights, I can also see how they would come in extremely handy for boaters as well. They can be set to flash like police lights, blink, or static brightness, and they are magnetic, waterproof, and tough enough to drive over with a truck. The link for these in the USA is <a href="https://www.amazon.com/1TAC-Emergency-Roadside-Emitters-Waterproof/dp/B07K4Q6K4Y"><b>here</b></a>; the link for these in the UK is <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Flashing-Roadside-Emergency-Warranty-BATTERIES/dp/B07D9KZHZC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1K0AVNXFAD8W4&keywords=1tac+safety+disc&qid=1582080303&sprefix=1+tac+%2Caps%2C294&sr=8-1"><b>here</b></a>. They are sold in a pack of three. </div>
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<b>3. <a href="https://www.bbc.com/reel/">BBC Reel</a></b>. Since I can no longer access the BBC stations in the USA , I go their website for European news with my morning cuppa. I find the BBC website far less biased than their TV news and some of the add-ons available are fascinating. The home page offers a Playlist link in the upper right. This will take you to different short videos clustered around ideas like Culture, Villages, Physics, history, Living in the Future, and The Science of Everyday Life. I've watched intriguing short vids about villages in Spain selling houses for €1 and entire villages for the equivalent of $30,000.00. I've been captivated by Japan's mysterious keyhole tombs, the flower that blooms every 12 years, the map (of the world) that survived 700 years, the rarest fabric on earth, creating leather from mushrooms, why Swedes won't talk about wealth, a rem]mote town made form Opal mines, secret worlds: a journey to the most recondite and hard to access places and communities, the secret world beneath Alhambra, is our perception if time wrong?, and the origins of the mysterious Guanches! What might those be, you ask? Check them out on BBC Reel. <a href="https://www.bbc.com/reel/playlist/secret-worlds"></a><a href="https://www.bbc.com/reel/playlist/secret-worlds"></a><br />
<b>4.</b><a href="https://www.dezeen.com/tag/dezeen-weekly/"> </a><a href="https://www.dezeen.com/tag/dezeen-weekly/"><b>Dezeen</b></a>. This is an architecture and design magazine with a weekly newsletter that covers the world of design in all things: architecture, clothing, shoes, jewelry, automobiles, AI virtual beings, and technology to name a few and many of the design pieces favor reader input. It also offers links to design and architecture job openings if you are so educated and inclined. These recent stories on Dezeen caught my eye: Scientists at Tufts University have created xenobots,<a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2020/01/15/xenobots-living-robots-frog-cells-technology/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20656%20a&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20656%20a+CID_66cf47b3b6e0e1d34d433d5f572cbc67&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=Cant%20imagine%20what%20will%20happen%20in%20another%2010%20years"> <b>tiny robots made from frog skin and heart cells</b> </a>that can walk and heal themselves; Samsung has developed <a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2020/01/15/samsung-neon-star-labs-artificial-humans/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20656%20a&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20656%20a+CID_66cf47b3b6e0e1d34d433d5f572cbc67&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=I%20find%20this%20beyond%20disturbing"><b>AI-powered virtual beings</b></a> that look and behave like real humans, much to reader disgust; the car design inspired by the movie Avatar. Mercedes-Benz's <a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2020/01/08/mercedes-benz-vision-avtr-avatar-ces-2020/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655+CID_2227bb90c3d29d464e999390d0d106cc&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=A%20gaudy%20car%20inspired%20by%20a%2010-year-old%20movie"><b>Vision AVTR</b></a> concept also incorporates battery technology centered on a graphene-based organic cell chemistry that is free of "rare earths" and metals such as nickel and cobalt. The materials used to make the battery are compostable and fully recyclable, making the car free from fossil resources. The Vision AVTR interiors are also made from sustainable materials such as vegan leather seats, with a floor made of rattan. Practice Architecture worked alongside hemp farmers to erect this<b> <a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2020/01/09/flat-house-hempcrete-practice-architecture-margent-farm/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655+CID_2227bb90c3d29d464e999390d0d106cc&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=I%20greatly%20admire%20the%20efforts%20here">zero carbon </a><a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2020/01/09/flat-house-hempcrete-practice-architecture-margent-farm/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20655+CID_2227bb90c3d29d464e999390d0d106cc&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=I%20greatly%20admire%20the%20efforts%20here">home</a></b> in Cambridgeshire, England, from pre-fabricated panels in just two days. Who's buying that information? Danish Architecture firm <a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2019/12/03/big-friday-smart-lock-technology/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Dezeen%20Weekly%20650%20-%20segment%20A&utm_content=Dezeen%20Weekly%20650%20-%20segment%20A+CID_53c654ec1714dc513b4deef62e26bfe5&utm_source=Dezeen%20Mail&utm_term=Read%20more"><b>BIG has branched into smart home products.</b></a> Controlled via smartphone, the Friday Smart Lock can automatically unlock a door when it senses the resident approaching, lock it as they leave, or allow them to remotely control who has access to the property. <a href="https://www.dezeen.com/2012/03/15/designed-in-hackney-the-floating-cinema-by-studio-weave/"><b>Designed in Hackney</b></a>: last summer Hackney architects Studio Weave turned an old narrow boat into a floating cinema that toured the canals of east London. You can go to the web page of the newsletter and type narrow boat, canals, or canal boat into the search function and all sorts of design stories related to your search will turn up to intrigue and perhaps disgust you!<br />
<b>5. </b><a href="https://wordsmith.org/awad/index.html"><b>Wordsmith</b></a>. If you are a logophile--a lover of words--then this website and free daily word email will satisfy your need for verbiage. Nearly 400.000 people in 170 countries have a free subscription to the Word of A Day email which always includes a new word, its pronunciation, etymology, definition, usage, and a thought for the day, and each week's words follow a theme. Created by <a href="https://www.cnbctv18.com/views/anu-gargs-world-of-words-the-story-of-a-wordaholic-and-his-25-year-lexicological-pursuit-4822131.htm"><b>Anu Garg</b></a>--a computer programmer from Northern India, it is the only daily email that I am reluctant to consign to the rubbish bin after reading. Yesterday's word was Faff and of course it made nostalgic for Britain. My thanks to my dear friend Karen Barron in Pullman, Washington for sending me the link and getting me hooked!! <br />
<b>6.</b> <a href="https://www.berrihealth.com/"><b>Black raspberries</b></a>. Black raspberries have the highest amount of ellagic acid compounds of any fruit, and Oregon produces 90% of the world's black raspberries which are neither blackberries or raspberries. According to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center clinical studies indicate the anticarcinogenic effects of ellagic acid against liver, esophageal, prostate, and colorectal cancer cell lines. It was also shown to induce apoptosis and potentiate all-trans retinoic acid myeloid differentiation therapy in human leukemia HL-60 cells. Human research studies at the University of Ohio have worked with one farm in Mt. Hood, Oregon and one producer who provides a standardized black raspberry product used for their human clinical studies which show that a paste of black raspberries on pre cancerous mouth lesions can stop the progression to cancer and return the cells to normal functioning. According to James Wong, a British Kew-trained botanist, with a Master of Science degree in Ethnobotany, he has pursued his key research interests of underutilised crop species, ethnopharmacology and traditional food systems through field work in rural Ecuador, Java and China. On his <a href="http://www.jameswong.co.uk/black-raspberries/4588520543" style="font-weight: bold;">website </a>Wong says, "A Phase 1 clinical trial at the University of Ohio suggested that consuming the fruit reduced the markers of DNA damage in oral cancer survivors . Additional test tube and animal studies also suggest their consumption may be linked to the inhibited growth of esophagus and other cancers. The researchers are careful to not make claims that go beyond their limited data & more clinical trials are underway."<br />
I follow Chris Wark's website and blog. He chose alternative treatment to heal from colon cancer at the age of twenty six. He investigates both western allopathic cancer treatments and alternative treatments and I highly recommend his web site to anyone facing a cancer diagnosis. I only wished I had found it when Les was diagnosed in 2013. His blog post for this week happened to be about black raspberries and he has a <a href="https://www.chrisbeatcancer.com/black-raspberries-are-a-cancer-fighting-superfood/"><b>video</b> </a>interview with the man who produces the standard black raspberry product used in human clinical trials at Ohio University and also in research at Oregon State University. I encourage you to read through this blog post from top to bottom as he also has links to research on this subject.<br />
<b>7. </b><a href="https://mymodernmet.com/"><b>My Modern Met</b>.</a> Somewhere along the way on my thousands of sleepless nights I came across this website and fell in love with it. If you love art and culture in all its myriad forms, you too will enjoy this site. MMM has a weekly newsletter delivered by email without any adverts. Here are some of the topics I've discovered through this weekly newsletter: <b><a href="https://mymodernmet.com/jon-foreman-stone-land-art/?utm_source=email&utm_medium=link&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=2020-02-17">Land Artist Surprises Beach Goers By Leaving Striking Stone Arrangements Along the Coast</a>; <a href="https://mymodernmet.com/inner-monologue/?utm_source=email&utm_medium=link&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=2020-02-18">People Are Shocked to Discover That Not Everyone Has an Inner Monologue</a>; <a href="https://mymodernmet.com/housing-first-finland-homelessness/">Finland Solves Its Homelessness by Providing Apartments for Anyone Who Needs One</a>; <a href="https://mymodernmet.com/heart-shaped-beehive/?utm_source=email&utm_medium=link&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=2020-02-18">Bees Create Heart-Shaped Hive When There Aren’t Frames Up to Guide Them</a>.</b> My Modern Met also has an <a href="https://mymodernmet.store/"><b>online store</b></a> with some fun and intriguing items that make fabulous gifts. I love the vertical Jenga style game made with elegant wooden cats cut out to stack, and the GI Joe plastic soldier figurines in rainbow colors. None of the soldiers are holding guns; instead they are engaged in holding a yoga pose! There are vivid super saturated water colors in a small book no bigger than a small mobile phone for easy transportation, and handbags that appear to have the front cover of either Pride and Prejudice or The Raven by EA Poe on them.<br />
<b>8.</b> A lovely woman I know named Mary Kunkel has become a writer in her golden years. She writes slice-of-life pieces about 500 or so words and there is a link to her blog over on the right, titled, <i>Lightly Tethered to the Earth</i>. Recently she wrote about Ravens in a post titled "Learning a New Language". In it she references wilderness explorer and writer Craig Child and his piece about <a href="https://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/383/raven"><b>Ravens</b> </a> which appeared in The Sun magazine, which I think you will find fascinating. Mary's piece led to Craig's book <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1537440.The_Animal_Dialogues"><b>The Animal Dialogues</b></a>. Child's writing is simply beautiful. It is deeply resonant. He paints word pictures of great depth and feeling about the wilderness, the animals which cross his path, and his small place in the larger picture as he interacts with them. I highly recommend it.<br />
Until next time!</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-6599622036266578672020-01-24T11:10:00.002+00:002020-01-24T11:10:14.470+00:00Les Biggs, In Remembrance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"A thousand words won't bring you back; I know because I've tried. Neither will a thousand tears; I know because I've cried." ~Kily Dunbar, grieving mother<br />
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Les died three years ago today at 9:08 am. It seems like yesterday...I count myself so very lucky we found each other and loved one another for a brief span of time. I tried to post a few of my favorite pictures of him, but Blogger kept deleting them when I tried to add captions, and then shuffled them out of sequence, so I will just go with this one as it captures so well Les' joy for life. He loved to laugh and how he made me laugh!! He was and always will be my brown eyed handsome man, my heart's desire...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6U1Vd-m7eDC7TION-8Ix4V-sRF3cHo4hJwwBAuQjFZ2_HSOV8ag_LNrp4sv2VBOkjQga9bIzTV4wgBvsnrN7K7rcwf83uGN-kWRFOcR6HoM9fD1VvgDtOPhfZi80KMxL3GSv/s1600/At+Cloudhouse+before+the+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6U1Vd-m7eDC7TION-8Ix4V-sRF3cHo4hJwwBAuQjFZ2_HSOV8ag_LNrp4sv2VBOkjQga9bIzTV4wgBvsnrN7K7rcwf83uGN-kWRFOcR6HoM9fD1VvgDtOPhfZi80KMxL3GSv/s640/At+Cloudhouse+before+the+wedding.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les on our deck under the Lilac tree at Cloudhouse in Pullman, Washington, August 2011. Do you know I viewed this picture many dozens of times before I realized he was making rabbit ears at me!</span></td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-17332959797347226692019-11-20T05:58:00.000+00:002019-11-20T06:18:17.808+00:00A Little of This, A Bit of That<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"Find a place inside where there is joy, and the joy will burn out the pain." ~Joseph Campbell, Author, American professor of Literature and Myth, 1904-1987</span></i></b><br />
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It has been awhile since I last posted. I am not experiencing a lot of inspirational things in life lately; just digging in with fingernails and hanging on. I've recovered from five weeks of Shingles followed a week later by a gall bladder attack that required emergency surgery to remove it, followed the next day by a second surgery to sweep gall stones from my bile duct. The pain was far worse than any labor pains I had and I hope to never hurt like that again.<br />
Doors appear to open to me and then are suddenly slammed shut in my face. I've moved down to Pullman, Washington in October in anticipation of a job which I interviewed for and was told would be mine permanently in May--a contract leading up to May was signed, and then a registered letter arrived three weeks after I settled in, paid for a post office box, had all of my belongings brought down to a storage shed in Moscow, Idaho, and registered with a local GP and dentist, to say the offer had been rescinded due to upheavals down the line, etc. etc. so here I am getting ready to move again. To say I am tired, and depressed, and finding little joy in life is an understatement, however...<br />
I have found a few things that delight me and so I shall share them in the hopes they might delight others as well.<br />
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1. As hu<span style="font-family: inherit;">rricane sea</span>son was barreling its way across the Atlantic in August I came across a cracking good web app which produces a globe of the world and shows <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">current wind, weather, ocean, and pollution conditions, as forecast by supercomputers, on an interactive animated map updated every three hours.</span> </span>It is a nifty thing to watch as the world's air and water currents move continually. Hurricanes, typhoons, or cyclones depending on where you are around the globe appear with pink to red wind and water currents. To view and download the web app, click <b><a href="https://earth.nullschool.net/">Here</a></b>. It has served as an invaluable tool in explaining British weather to Americans!<br />
<img alt="Image result for nullschool.net" height="358" 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" 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" 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2. One evening I came across a video of a smashing group of musicians and singers. <b><a href="https://postmodernjukebox.com/home/">Post Modern Jukebox</a></b> takes old classics, 90's Motown, hip-hop, doo-wop ballads of the 50's and early 60's, and modern songs by folks such as Bono and U2, Billy Idol, Sam Cook, Jackson Five, Roy Orbison, Elton John, Aerosmith, Guns and Roses, Beyonce and Rihanna, and reinterprets them in several different genres covering seventy decades of distinctive music styles such as ragtime, straight ahead jazz standards, gospel and blues, and doo-wop. Begun by Scott Bradlee, there are over fifty singers and musicians with whom he works to bring his interpretation of music to the world. You can visit PMJ's website for more details including concert dates in Europe, Australia, New Zealand, and the U.S. These are two of my favorites: Lovefool, and All About the Bass.<br />
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3. Another find during an evening of web surfing brought me to a page selling porcelain and stoneware, but not just any old pattern; no this is called <b><a href="https://calamityware.com/">Calamityware</a></b>! The plates, cups, saucers, mugs, bowls and platters at first glance appear to be copying the Blue Willow style of chinoiserie so popular back in 1790 by Spode. Look closer though and astonishing shapes jump out of the blue patterning: robots run a-muck, dinosaurs lurk, pterodactyls swoop, sea monsters rise from the depths, the Kraken stretches out many legs, vortices spin, active volcanoes spew, pirate ships appear in the background, plagues of frogs rise from the shrubbery, Sasquatch runs across an open section of porcelain, and zombie poodles balance on their haunches! Should the money and the need for new dishware ever cross paths in my life again, this is the dinnerware I want! Calamityware also sells aprons, place mats, scarves, wall paper, sketchbooks and playing cards with various calamitous creatures on them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeB0KeTErk86o_JUX9ytEs0iR9gFjsGD8uW8b0Z4hkBOtpjkoHJklpL_HR3zlB1Cpx3vT9uuLnaEOULD51uBF-WcznxSwi2PtS6tf9bkot-_Zr9C8cWePBVfFs5QQj9TxVk7J/s1600/CAlamityware+plates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeB0KeTErk86o_JUX9ytEs0iR9gFjsGD8uW8b0Z4hkBOtpjkoHJklpL_HR3zlB1Cpx3vT9uuLnaEOULD51uBF-WcznxSwi2PtS6tf9bkot-_Zr9C8cWePBVfFs5QQj9TxVk7J/s640/CAlamityware+plates.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9oJqgtOSwUS4_QrqwPVKV9Oh7H7ump2HPlm-Igk8twWHr8-aOoJ1gk-nlSoFulU8Gub55P6f9P9269GX9GWvgxZ_WbAoLhguh1MRWN_wIluSqrdCe15SzD0Xu5GSMz1z3gOi/s1600/Calamity+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9oJqgtOSwUS4_QrqwPVKV9Oh7H7ump2HPlm-Igk8twWHr8-aOoJ1gk-nlSoFulU8Gub55P6f9P9269GX9GWvgxZ_WbAoLhguh1MRWN_wIluSqrdCe15SzD0Xu5GSMz1z3gOi/s400/Calamity+cups.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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4. With my re-connection to Neill Public Library in Pullman, Washington I discovered a delightful new mystery author, Charles Finch. His Lenox mysteries run to twelve in number and take place in Victorian era England. Charles Lenox is a gentleman, son and brother of Baronets, educated at Harrow, and expected to follow his wealthy line into politics but he cannot stop his fascination with solving crimes and becomes England's first "modern" crime detective. This series is written by an American of privilege, educated <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">at </span><span style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255);">Phillips Academy</span><span style="background-color: white;"> and </span><span style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255);">Yale University</span><span style="background-color: white;">, where he majored in English and History. Finch also holds a </span><span style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255);">master's degree</span><span style="background-color: white;"> in Renaissance English Literature from </span><span style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255);">Merton College, Oxford</span><span style="background-color: white;">. One would not know his American birth however as his books capture London and Victorian era England perfectly. It is only in book 11 Finch betrays his American heritage in print, but the clue is extremely subtle and only someone who is looking for it will find it! Below are the covers of the first four books in the series. </span></span><br />
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<img alt="A Beautiful Blue Death: The First Charles Lenox Mystery (Charles Lenox Mysteries Book 1)" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/5192MSGozlL._AC_UY218_ML3_.jpg" /><img alt="The September Society (Charles Lenox Mysteries Book 2)" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51HoEOCwILL._AC_UY218_ML3_.jpg" /><img alt="The Fleet Street Murders (Charles Lenox Mysteries Book 3)" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51T4J+PRESL._AC_UY218_ML3_.jpg" /><img alt="A Stranger in Mayfair: A Mystery (Charles Lenox Mysteries Book 4)" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51KgHr4-XWL._AC_UY218_ML3_.jpg" /><br />
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5. Food wise life has been topsy-turvy with several Crohn's flare ups over the summer and fall. I've found two delicious items at the Moscow Food Co-op and both are available online in the USA anyway. The first is <b><a href="https://www.garlicsauce.com/">Karam's Garlic Sauce</a></b>, a blend of garlic, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and love!<br />
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<img height="395" src="https://nebula.wsimg.com/094de045d75df262c69d439fd3656b22?AccessKeyId=8320E89F9DFB57703D2B&disposition=0&alloworigin=1" width="640" /><br />
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The second food item is an amazing organic smoked soft goat's cheese from <b><a href="https://www.amaltheiadairy.com/">Amatheia Organic Dairy</a></b> in Bozeman, Montana. It is divine on crackers and soars when stuffed inside a chicken breast with afresh Basil leaf, the chicken then wrapped in Parma Ham or Turkey ham in my case, seared for 4 minutes on each side in a really hot pan of butter and then finished off in the oven for 15 minutes at 350 F. This cheese will carry to heights of rapture when spread on a bagel in lieu of cream cheese and topped with smoked salmon. Mmmm!<br />
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<img alt="smoked chevrepic.jpg" height="480" src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5c9ae3c6840b162bfb390200/1557943913298-RSR224K8HAKM56EN3KAL/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kDHPSfPanjkWqhH6pl6g5ph7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0mwONMR1ELp49Lyc52iWr5dNb1QJw9casjKdtTg1_-y4jz4ptJBmI9gQmbjSQnNGng/smoked+chevrepic.jpg?format=750w" width="640" /><br />
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Finally, I learned this month something which I must share: the deadly side effects of the antibiotic Cipro or <b><a href="https://medlineplus.gov/druginfo/meds/a688016.html">Ciprofloxacin</a></b>. I am allergic to at least a dozen pharmaceutical drugs and most antibiotics. During the two days I was in hospital for emergency gall bladder surgeries, I was put on a continuous IV alternating Cipro and Flagyl until I developed an allergic reaction to them both, with red raised, blistered patches on both cheeks directly under my eyes, and on my nose which was swollen. I have been left with faint scarring on both cheeks--a pink streak as though a painter brushed both sides of my face with a daub of pink. While the surgeries took place on September 7th and 8th, I am still struggling for breath, although it has improved. I could not figure out why this was occurring. Now I know it is a complication of Cipro use.<br />
Last week I slept wrong and put the left side of my neck and some of my bones in my left clavicle out of place, developing Vertigo. I called the chiropractor I used to see when I lived here at Cloudhouse. He graciously squeezed me in and after looking at x-rays of my neck and spine, Dr. Carnahan asked me if I had taken any antibiotics recently. I told him about the Cipro and Flagyl and he said he couldn't give me an adjustment because Cipro causes a weakening of the tendons and a simple adjustment could tear a tendon in my neck causing me serious long term health issues. I was gobsmacked! Dr. Carnahan gave up his massage appointment for the next morning and I had a one hour massage that loosened things up enough for my bones to slowly move back to where they belonged. It turns out the Cipro can also <b><a href="https://www.europeanpharmaceuticalreview.com/news/79715/ciprofloxacin-mt-genome/">damage one's mitochondrial DNA</a></b>. Mitochondrial DNA is inherited from our mothers. It is the energy furnace in every one of our cells. This would also explain why I feel exhausted all the time, and have no energy. I seem to be exhibiting most of the side effects of this drug. Forewarned is forearmed. Now you know too and can advocate for yourself should it be necessary.<br />
I will be planning my move to Gresham, Oregon between Thanksgiving and Christmas and hope to have a more uplifting post to share. Until then, I hope everyone has a lovely winter holiday--whichever one you celebrate. Bright blessings!<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-60577692952664525302019-10-07T21:37:00.000+00:002019-10-11T18:47:40.836+00:00My Achy-Breaky Heart<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"What you leave behind is not what is engraved on stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." ~Pericles, Greek statesman, orator and General, 495-429 BCE</span></i></b><br />
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It has been ten months since I stepped off the bow of NB Valerie for the final time. It has been nine months since I returned to the Washington State, USA. There are some things that make attempting to forge a new life easier in my birth country. I know the systems here and how they work. I have an innate grasp of American English and I can wield it well. Yet this homecoming is bittersweet for so many reasons not the least of which I didn't want to come back; I felt I had run out of options in England and this was my final choice. In the eight years I was gone over the Pond, I am not the only thing that changed. As my life was spooling out with Les on the canals of Britain, the lives of my friends and family in America have as well, with some coming to their inevitable end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-sNIVw_LTUWe10NmPqd3A8RpgOEpBYnetadMiuQSXzP2vwh112VstCTbesuWA1JSbLx3N54OqjWT-ZnqwHTldUTp09Ss9y8-OWDPSb6J3U1_huI3P-dmhmzH2pAzF5J1qWXh/s1600/Jim+Barron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="575" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-sNIVw_LTUWe10NmPqd3A8RpgOEpBYnetadMiuQSXzP2vwh112VstCTbesuWA1JSbLx3N54OqjWT-ZnqwHTldUTp09Ss9y8-OWDPSb6J3U1_huI3P-dmhmzH2pAzF5J1qWXh/s200/Jim+Barron.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>
It is typical at age sixty-one that those around me are beginning to die. We know intellectually this is the case, but it is another thing all together to experience those losses one upon another with one's heart. Upon my return in late January I was facing the memorial service of <b><a href="https://dnews.com/obituaries/james-clayton-barron-of-pullman/article_cf42799b-5439-52b0-bcac-8e53678423dd.html">Jim Barron</a></b>, the husband of my dear friend Karen--she whom I met at Hospice volunteer training and who introduced me to Kamiak Butte where Les and I were married and where I scattered his ashes. We would have had a very different wedding without Karen kicking me in the butt metaphorically. I was swanning about all "moons and Junes," my head away across the world with Les on the boat and my heart there too. Karen brought me back to earth to face the necessary details required to plan a wedding. Jim was like Les--solid, kind, smart, funny, and he too knew how to love. In better times Karen and Jim were involved in square dancing with all the accouterments: the fluffy skirts and petticoats for her and bolo ties for Jim. He had many, many dozens of them, most made by Karen. At his service Karen displayed all Jim's ties and invited everyone to choose one to take in remembrance of him. It was a brilliant idea.<br />
I was notified two weeks later that a former coworker of mine also died suddenly. While we worked together every day for six years we were not close. The former receptionist was her best mate and no one would ever fill her shoes--not that I tried. I had my own way of doing things and I was quite successful in that position. Nevertheless I had to endure my co-worker's daily tirades, mean digs, impatient rants, and deliberate nastiness while letting it flow off my shoulders like water off a duck's back. The only thing that offered me any small comfort at all was the knowledge that she was an equal opportunity abuser, treating volunteers and staff with comparable disdain. Whenever she would approach my desk with her shark tooth smile I would smile back while picturing her head exploding all over the lobby. Nevertheless I didn't wish her any ill will and I would certainly never have wished her the death sentence of advanced metastasized cancer that was a part of her demise. I could have gone to her memorial service as a mark of respect but opted out. There was precious little respect between us in life and I have never been able to put lipstick on a pig and call it Marilyn Monroe. Still her death marked another milestone for me, the passing of an era as I remembered some of the better memories surrounded by creative, articulate, and very funny people who seem to be drawn to public radio.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KxniMeKpb4e_wqBWBeW6eZ0fOEqd5k9u-8ej5r5icoRno-KHu0EOJLydSsuRl2I8JQKThdEAPMg4h-A3CZteN0aDUtMCLTV5zEKBekkoRabWrBhW1fqG3azBKHW6UpmqY3vi/s1600/Bryce+Lee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KxniMeKpb4e_wqBWBeW6eZ0fOEqd5k9u-8ej5r5icoRno-KHu0EOJLydSsuRl2I8JQKThdEAPMg4h-A3CZteN0aDUtMCLTV5zEKBekkoRabWrBhW1fqG3azBKHW6UpmqY3vi/s1600/Bryce+Lee.jpg" /></a> On February 19th I was notified that our dear Canadian friend <b><a href="https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/theglobeandmail/obituary.aspx?n=bryce-lee&pid=191634158">Bryce Lee</a></b> had died of complications from the cancer and Lupus he fought valiantly for a decade. Many of you who follow this blog will remember seeing Bryce's comments. He adored steam trains, canals and locks, boats of all kinds, photography, ham radio, motorcycles and men in leather. A giant bear of a man at six feet eight inches tall and 300 plus pounds, Bryce had fingers in all kinds of pies. He was a living example of Dorothy Parker's maxim, "Curiosity is the cure for boredom. There is no cure for curiosity." He was a major supporter of the Tallylyn Welsh steam train line among many other groups and individuals he underwrote with his time, talent, and finances. A gentle giant, I called Bryce Cousin Kindheart once I knew he was gay. As someone with roots deep in the LGBTQ community over the last thirty years, I always consider someone who self identifies in this way as family because so often their own families disown them for being who they are. Les felt this way as well, and Bryce was on his short list to receive regular packets of Towpath Talk newspapers, Canal Boat and Waterways World magazines. Bryce offered and paid for three months in Cow Roast marina when Les was recovering from liver surgery in 2014. When my Best Beloved was in the last six months of life, Bryce called us frequently to chat about this and that, keeping us linked to him across the miles. After Les died, Bryce called me often, his rich Canadian baritone filling my ear with kindness, compassion, humor, and satisfying some primal need of mine to hear a North American accent. Over the six years of our growing friendship he consulted me frequently about herbal supplements that might help him deal with the ravages of years of chemotherapy and radiotherapy which laid waste to his immune system and his body. He claimed I helped him endure and exceed the limits his doctors gave him and for that I am grateful. We talked on the phone earlier the week he died, but Bryce hid from me how truly ill he was and I was not aware of the severity of Bryce's condition. We made plans to meet up in May of 2020 in Vancouver, Canada so I was shocked and grief stricken to learn of his death. I tried to arrange attending his memorial service but it was not to be. There was no chance of me arriving in time. It would mean an expensive commercial flight from Spokane to Vancouver BC. A connecting flight from Vancouver BC to Ontario and then a train ride to Burlington and still I would not have made it on time.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo5cdgBKNqymHofafRYNk6QEjqACY-XLFkNwYCBu38MFs7Nd4NWqG0ixCxvy9Ey0gA-AFdTuVf9DQ57GCUvMyeaQbHNRwAeVLVOSLiP9759zca9tvxdGtNMawmyGOxsZZCyn1/s1600/MARION_MOOS2.JPG_t300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="240" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo5cdgBKNqymHofafRYNk6QEjqACY-XLFkNwYCBu38MFs7Nd4NWqG0ixCxvy9Ey0gA-AFdTuVf9DQ57GCUvMyeaQbHNRwAeVLVOSLiP9759zca9tvxdGtNMawmyGOxsZZCyn1/s200/MARION_MOOS2.JPG_t300.jpg" width="137" /></a> In June the first of the Wednesday Women died. For those of you who followed my blog <b><a href="https://truelovefloats.blogspot.com/2011/05/february-arrives.html">So This is Love</a></b>, you may remember the talented group of women of which I am fortunate to belong, who vetted Les at a dinner and grilled him thoroughly in February of 2011.<br />
<b><a href="https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/spokesman/obituary.aspx?n=marion-sutherland-moos&pid=193004025">Marian Moos</a></b>, Spokane's feminist fairy-goddess mother was in her 90's and dementia had developed. Marian spent her final year of life living with her daughter Ginnie. Marian contracted an illness which put her in hospital where she died. Ginnie went to visit her mom four days before she passed, and true to Marian's indomitable feminist spirit, she found her mom propped in bed with a magnifying glass in hand, reading Michelle Obama's latest book. I will miss her independent spirit and the excitement with which Marian always approached life.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgUbmsFfH2nYInLGyyNTcpC1zEeDHyDTqIqmyLiYdZC0yXrennAWMgvUF1LPbIcjh2B_FPrzhsMki7GfVT3CnHJ1_CWlbsW9qN9i7NpnYh7RYBb8B0oOyCwk73RP2jsJkQscm/s1600/Rosemarie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="258" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgUbmsFfH2nYInLGyyNTcpC1zEeDHyDTqIqmyLiYdZC0yXrennAWMgvUF1LPbIcjh2B_FPrzhsMki7GfVT3CnHJ1_CWlbsW9qN9i7NpnYh7RYBb8B0oOyCwk73RP2jsJkQscm/s200/Rosemarie.jpg" width="178" /></a> On the 3rd of August <b><a href="https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/spokesman/obituary.aspx?n=major-rosemarie-duffy-rorie&pid=193612098">Rosemarie Duffy</a></b>, Major, retired USAF died after a many years of dementia. Rosemarie was a firecracker. She called things as she saw them. She loved life, cats, her garden, and men. She created a studio space in one half of her basement to provide women artists with safe, free space to hone their craft, and she had a small apartment built into the other half of her basement which she rented out for a very low sum to struggling single mothers trying to get on their feet. Rosemarie was a nurse anesthetist with many connections to the Spokane medical community. She worked with local doctors, traveling to poverty stricken areas of the world to set up mobile hospitals and assist with eye surgeries to help other less fortunate people have the gift of good sight. She volunteered her time with Crosswalk--a youth shelter where many GLBTQ runaways and those tossed out of their homes ended up. Rosemarie also took in litters of kittens from pregnant cats at the animal shelter, caring for the babies until homes could be found for them. She wrote poetry for me, and it was her idea of forming intentional community that created the Wednesday Women. The gradual loss of her memory over eight years took its toll on her and weighed on the hearts of those who loved her. Rosemarie was aware of all she was losing, until it was gone, and essentially so was she. Her spirit trapped in a failing mind and body was simply waiting for death to tap her on the shoulder.<br />
The bigger picture of life in the USA these days is sobering and ugly. Those of us who do not espouse Trump's divisive MAGA rhetoric do what we can to counteract his tyrannical meanness whenever possible; we are bone weary from fighting decades for things such as clean air and water, the endangered species act, protection of our national parks, safe, affordable access to women's reproductive health including abortion, freedom of and from religion, equal rights for women and GLBTQ folks, assistance for migrants and refugees, and recognition of the diversity that made the USA the most successful immigrant country on earth. Watching all we have fought long and hard for disappear under looser regulations or a roll back to none at all; rallying to fight court appeal after appeal which keep us mired in the mud of contention as we valiantly fight to protect past legislation is exhausting and demoralizing as Trump's minions dismantle program after program. His nasty tirades draw out the worst of those who live in the corners and shadow of this country, welcoming racists, bigots, Christian religious fanatics, and ignorant bullies to walk down the middle of the street in defiant glory, wrapped in America's flag while they abuse and kill others, smiling defiantly, backed by the Republican Senate.<br />
In my other country across the Pond, I stare at the news in mute dismay and sorrow as Britain too appears to rise to bait of the worst in human nature, imploding while politicians drag their feet on the majority vote to leave the EU, thinking their delaying tactics will derail Brexit. Meanwhile no solid plans have been made to prepare for exit from the EU, leaving Brits everywhere feeling overwhelmed and under-protected, worried for want of basics such as food and medicine because the MP's in Parliament would rather fight each other like bully boys in the <i>Lord of the Flies</i>, throwing the entire populace they are elected to represent under the oncoming train, instead of facing forward and making the very best of the situation. Every time I see televised footage of British Parliament I am ashamed of how they behave and I am worried for all those across the Pond that I love.<br />
Unlike so many people I know on both sides of the Atlantic ocean, I continue to follow the news every day. I have never been a looky-loo, slowing down to stare at automobile accidents, but I cannot tear myself away from the politics of this age playing out in both of my beloved countries. Too many of my compatriots no longer watch or listen to the news. Their hearts simply cannot take any more. It seems I now live in heartbroken times personally, politically, locally, nationally, and internationally. <div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-9588561217491969332019-07-20T04:54:00.001+00:002019-07-20T11:18:56.174+00:00Bye Bye Miss American Pie<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">A long long time ago</span></span><br />
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I can still remember how</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That music used to make me smile</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And I knew if I had my chance</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That I could make those people dance</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And maybe they'd be happy for a while</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But February made me shiver</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With every paper I'd deliver</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bad news on the doorstep</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I couldn't take one more step</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I can't remember if I cried</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I read about his widowed bride</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Something touched me deep inside</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The day the music died</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bye, bye Miss American Pie</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Singin' this'll be the day that I die</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This'll be the day that I die..." ~ Don McClean, American singer/songwriter</span></div>
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Some folks will read the lyrics above and wonder what on earth it has to do with me or this blog. Others may grasp the hidden meaning in the lyrics that fit my life so well. When Don McClean was asked recently what the lyrics really meant he divulged the following: She was as American as apple pie; it was about a time in America when our innocent ideology about the world and our place in it was giving way to cynicism. Society was heading in the wrong direction...<i>Let me make this quick disclaimer: I will do the next blog about America with just as jaundiced and critical an eye about my dislikes so please Brits, don't think I am being an ugly American and unduly criticizing your wonderful homeland. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> While living in England for over eight years has changed me and made me a person whose heart and soul is bifurcated between Britain and the USA, I am at my very DNA, as American as apple pie. Still, life with a foot in two countries makes me even more complex than I was before ever I fell in love with my Best Beloved Les and chose to follow him back to the cut.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Both of my countries are suffering through existential political and social crises which cause me additional grief. When I lived in Britain there were things about the country that drove me mad, like the mindless petty bureaucracy that could quickly F*** up one's day, and the mindless shrugs of Brits who simply take each days bureaucratic bungles as part and parcel of life in general and do not question why such crap occurs each day as they queue up quietly and wait with the patience of saints for life to move ahead one more step. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> The general lack of customer service for the average Joe or Jane was another thing that could drive me to a homicidal rant. Six months and seven visits to the bank to have my name added to Les' bank account is a prime example along with the requirement that I make an appointment with a "bereavement counselor" at Halifax bank in order to have Les' name removed from our account after he died, and the need to wait three months for said appointment, only to show up, be kept waiting twenty minutes and then be told said counselor"was unable to make it in today and you will need to reschedule your appointment..." aaaarrrrrghhhh!!!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> The British and possibly European desire to have everyone jump countless hoops and spend many hundreds of pounds and a third of one's life getting NVQ's (National Vocational Qualifications) level 1, 2, 3, 5, 57, 116, etc. etc, etc. which do not prove one is actually the best person for the job but does prove one can waste innumerable hours "learning" pendantic facts and common sense behavior such as "When working in a classroom with a teacher and pupils one must always bear in mind the safety of all students." Really???? I thought I was going to be there to inject a little edgy excitement into their day with knife throwing followed by teaching them how to eat fire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> The British penchant for parking along the side of the road facing in either direction, playing chicken with each other on narrow lanes, including with double decker buses, is something from which I will never quite recover several lives, 'nor will I ever recoup the years I lost to traveling left around Roundabouts in order to go right. And Let me not forget plastic money; not as in a debit card but actual five and ten pound notes made out of plastic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I won't go into details about the sacred cow that is the British NHS. When the NHS gets it right it does so beautifully...when it gets things wrong--which happens too often for a small island under one national government--people die, often from simple neglect. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> And then there is the bloody British dog thing; their over-the-top love affair with canines and one is hardly ever never enough. But that is just me; 'nuff said! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> There is the dissatisfying lack of ways in which one's breakfast eggs might be prepared when eating out and the sad little mini-buffet dish of three green leaves, a couple of celery and red pepper sticks accompanied by one small tomato which passes for a salad too often on British plates. And don't get me started about the lack of salad dressing choices or indeed dressing itself other than the occasional vinegar and oil or the ubiquitous packets of salad cream (Miracle Whip for you Americans ). Top this off with chips (fries) with everything and I do mean bloody everything, and the British need not to make a spectacle of one's self by complaining about crap food served with even crappier service many times, and I begin to lose the will to live, as Les used to say when something got him down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> On the plus side of the British equation is first and foremost for me, the canals and the amazing community living on and alongside them. I know of no other community like it. 2000 miles of canals and navigable rivers, and a community of mostly lovely folk who choose to live a counter-culture life and which I was immensely privileged to share in for eight years. The cut is a place to lose yourself and find yourself anew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Number two on my list of British sublime is the countryside. Much of it is breathtaking and Brits know this and support their countryside. Unlike most Americans, Brits actually get out in their countryside on a daily and weekly basis for a short five mile hike just to get their blood moving and make use of the public footpaths which criss-cross the countryside. This leads me to number three: the smallness of everything and I do mean everything, from bottles of shampoo, face cream, medicines and sauces, to gardens, automobiles, the average home, and parking spaces. Brits are adept at fitting a car into the space an American would only consider applicable to a bicycle, and then managing to squeeze out of the doors like squeezing toothpaste from a tube. I still find it a marvel that I never tire of watching. Parking in Britain is a highly refined art and one ridiculously under-appreciated.</span></div>
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Next up is the British ability to not only appreciate history and preserve it but also to live amidst over 1000 years of history as though it were yesterday or last week. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> My favorite awesome British thing is their way of playing with their language and not taking themselves too seriously. We Americans could and should take lessons on this point. I dearly miss hearing the mish-mash of dialects, British slang, and the easy way they take the mick out of total strangers and everyone knows what is going on and laughs along. The Brits know how to have a great, good larff. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"> I totally miss a British behavior that used to drive me doolally and that is their inability to say a simple goodbye and ring off the phone. I remember the first time Les ever called me, back in October of 2010. When our conversation came to a conclusion he seemed to have difficulties hanging up, repeating in a soft and slightly melancholy voice: "Goodbye goodbye; good-bye...</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;">goodbye</span><span style="color: #222222;">... </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-small;">goodbye</span><span style="color: #222222;">." I remember thinking to myself that he must be really keen to meet me if he had that much difficulty saying goodbye! I had no idea ALL Brits do this. Five goodbyes are about the average for a phone call and it makes me feel like a rude, abrupt, and manner-less American when I say, "Okay. Goodbye"/click! And I hang up while whomever on the other end is still gathering their goodbye momentum. </span></span><br />
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I miss the incredible vistas across furrowed fields and millenniums, strolling along a country lane in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Stoke Golding at Twilight, holding hands with my husband, our laughter warming the slight evening chill as we made our way down and around from the White Swan pub, to the warm haven of our bloat, moored and sitting silently in the gathered dusk, one golden light shining through the curtain announcing, "You are home." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I--a self avowed introvert--actually miss the way Brits will approach anyone and have a moment of their time. How they will pitch in at a moment's notice when someone is in need of real aid be it small or large. I miss the generosity of Brits, in heart, mind and spirit; and the many good British men especially who are comfortable with showing genuine affection to those they love in public or private.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I miss the quaint, the amazing, the surreal experience of weaving through small villages with a thousand years of history and knocking around London with Les who knew it like the back of his hand, sleuthing out the strange, the incredible, the awe inspiring blend of ancient and modern as we excavated layers and layers of history to find just a tiny fraction of Britain's stories.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Crikey I even miss the British total preoccupation with the weather and how this very necessary skill keeps folks tied to nature in an immediate way that does not exist in many other places around the world and certainly in large swathes across North America where weather is often moderated by the large landmass on which we live, as opposed to the near continual atmospheric vagaries churning along, across and over the small islands of Britannia. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I miss</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> the blessed green land of my ancestors. I miss driving through Wales with dear loved ones eager to show me "their" Wales in Pembrokeshire and the magnificent coast. I loved the bilingual road signs with Welsh first. The signs make excellent Welsh/English flashcards as one travels along very modern roadways from England and the Border towns. I miss the very fact that driving without a GPS of some kind in Britain is simply not on--in fact it is bloody stupid. I loved the unit in our rented van which mispronounced the Welsh so badly that it mangled the name of a bridge--bridge-over-some town, into Glnylldydllidll! I am so grateful for seeing the magnificent Welsh Atlantic coast in a Halcyon moment and witnessing the sun setting in the Western ocean for Les. It was one of the last things he wanted to do with me before he died. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Oh how I miss the steel skin of NB Valerie holding me within--my safe haven floating somewhere in the heart of Britain, the land of my heart's favorite soul. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les' sunset over the western ocean in Wales. </span></td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-19447858375293125822019-07-04T02:01:00.002+00:002019-07-04T02:01:21.351+00:00<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.” Cheryl Strayed, American memoirist, novelist, essayist and podcast host. </span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Life right now for me consists of large sections of time filled with </span>uncertainty<span style="font-family: inherit;">, fear, anxiety, and trepidation, punctuated by lovely floating moments of grace, laughter and good conversation while spending time with loved ones. It is about taking one's own measure repeatedly and realizing the internal voice we each have is </span>chirping<span style="font-family: inherit;"> like a cricket inside me repeating "Time is short, time is short, time is short." Life is still not sleeping well and feeling that two years, five months and nine days after Les' heart stopped beating, I am more weary and threadbare around my edges than I have ever been and that is okay. Life is accepting that for me, there no real home on this beautiful planet I love </span>because<span style="font-family: inherit;"> my home here ceased </span>to exist with the death of Les. So I've become expert at parsing segments of time.<br /> Life at present is about catching up with friends and family near and far, some of whom I have not seen in twenty five or thirty years. It is video calling my British loved ones and seeing their lovely faces, hearing their voices, catching up with their lives and crying when I say goodbye. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's about making sense of my life and this screwed up country, desecrated environment and uncertain world. It is also about honoring the process of grief and self discovery, continuing to excavate through the ruins in my life with a therapist to keep me from stalling out of the process. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I remember my paternal grandfather after my grandmother Helen Russell, his wife of 53 years, died. He used to tell me that he had lived too long and seen too much. He was ready to go. I have reached that point in life when I feel the same. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Papa lived another twenty five years into the very midnight of his life at age ninety nine, making the best of it for as long as he could while marking time until he was reunited with Gran. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I am looking for work, attending interviews and considering future possibilities because I continue to wake up each morning and needs must. I'm dealing with Crohns flare-ups and making myself indulge in self care, and And I am ready to write again. So, this is really just to let those who follow the blog know where I am at and to say hi. I'm back now. Thank you for your patience.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-7324669955221571922019-04-15T00:46:00.000+00:002019-04-15T22:09:38.873+00:00The Les Biggs Memorial Daffodil Trail<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Do not stand at my grave and weep </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am not there. I do not sleep. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am a thousand winds that blow. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am the diamond glints on snow. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am the sunlight on ripened grain. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am the gentle autumn rain. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">When you awaken in the morning's hush </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am the swift uplifting rush </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Of quiet birds in circled flight. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am the soft stars that shine at night. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Do not stand at my grave and cry; </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I am not there. I did not die. ~ Mary Elizabeth Frye, American poet and florist, 1905-2004</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"> Many who follow this blog know that in the year after Les' death I cruised slowly northward to the narrow canals Les loved best, stopping at his favorite places along the way to dig a hole, scatter some of Les' ashes inside, and plant Daffodils on top so that Les would bloom in all his favorite places along the cut and be adored by everyone who came upon his spring flowers every year. Here then are pictures and descriptions of each place, should you wish to stop and say hello. His spirit would love that and so would my heart.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"> Finally I am calling out to any boaters who are willing to plant Daffodils and Forget-Me-Knots in remembrance of Les. There were several places I wanted to plant them but for various reasons--mainly bad weather and ill health, I wasn't able to do so. The spots noted on the list below as </span><b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span></b><span style="color: #333333;"> are the ones I missed. If you come across one of Les' Daffodils and wish to send me a picture I would be deeply touched. xxx</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=marsworth" target="_blank">Marsworth Reservoirs, Gran Union Canal.</a> </b>My deepest thanks to Dave Winter who follows our blog and has stopped to chat with us whenever he walked along and found us. Dave has been kind enough to send me pictures of Les' Daffodil blooming at Marsworth two springs running now. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"> Startops End Reservoir is a a magical place for me and Les. We moored there for eleven days in October 2011 while we waited for my worldly goods to be unloaded from the huge cargo ship that brought them from America. All 640 pounds arrived and were delivered to us at this spot by family members. We spent four days unpacking and putting books into the new book cases Les had built aboard NB Valerie for me. I hung art on the walls, and stained glass dragonflies and crystals in front of the windows. We put all of my kitchen goods in the new cupboards and cabinets Les built our of Billy bookcases. He sat back on his side of the dinette, his head resting against the wall one sunny morning with a look of utter satisfaction and happiness on his face. I asked Les what he was thinking. "Jaq you've made our boat a lovely home. Yes I lived on it before I met you, but it wasn't really a home like this. You make it a lovely place to be." And so did he. Les filled NB Valerie with his presence and his happiness. There was no place else on this earth either of us would rather have wished to be but right there together, cruising through our life. </span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACa9Hwd3H_OCKXU4WCr6Zjrkqb5jPydPgBJ3EZKaY7k6riO8wPyg7Yt_pefr4nZ_-tS42L4fskTwpvfsaKdK_SjOlfq503f5MN1hxWvB4taYxst4PjZbbayokw6Tb4e4rwNny/s1600/Les%2527+daffodil+at+Marsworth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACa9Hwd3H_OCKXU4WCr6Zjrkqb5jPydPgBJ3EZKaY7k6riO8wPyg7Yt_pefr4nZ_-tS42L4fskTwpvfsaKdK_SjOlfq503f5MN1hxWvB4taYxst4PjZbbayokw6Tb4e4rwNny/s1600/Les%2527+daffodil+at+Marsworth.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span><span style="color: #333333;">: By the bench at the top of <a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=slapton" target="_blank">Slapton Lock, Grand Union Canal</a></span></b><span style="color: #333333;">. Les died before the marinas were scheduled to be built nearby. He loved mooring just below this lock especially in March and September when boat traffic died down and we had it to ourselves. We had the rare privilege (for us anyway) of watching a family of Mink diving and playing in the water there. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKfhD7WbhlHkAJ9D2VGwAlxzX4jiJiHYeBO5DNdiG54aopKGwqFgILpnle32JGFIxI_-FfccaYprtSaumVGeeHoiJ_9ILIR9ch9OyhluPqQNmfXJgOtYNYONVSQqSD_DEjP50/s1600/rosemary+shrub+at+Slapton+lock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="591" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKfhD7WbhlHkAJ9D2VGwAlxzX4jiJiHYeBO5DNdiG54aopKGwqFgILpnle32JGFIxI_-FfccaYprtSaumVGeeHoiJ_9ILIR9ch9OyhluPqQNmfXJgOtYNYONVSQqSD_DEjP50/s640/rosemary+shrub+at+Slapton+lock.jpg" width="562" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span><span style="color: #333333;">: <a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=great+linford" target="_blank">Linford Park, Grand Union Canal</a>,</span></b><span style="color: #333333;"> by the stone wall near the two day moorings. Les also loved to moor here and walk through the grounds of the park, looking back at NBV waiting for us to return. Les gave his huge old leather chair away (to make room for two new chairs--one for each of us) at Linford Park in May of 2011, to a 12 year old who took it away in two pieces, balancing them on his bicycle!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwPVoiyDpQ-GIhCLABnhczk2mm6gDCuYah5pVh1g0KVHAz-El49xccAsyWFWd4BVy6xEsWfYWNi9TiY-NGB04eyxt9-djR1XVkHfGag3Y3ahrPVNOqvXd3weHyv9QosCH_ZIq/s1600/Les+at+Lindford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="774" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwPVoiyDpQ-GIhCLABnhczk2mm6gDCuYah5pVh1g0KVHAz-El49xccAsyWFWd4BVy6xEsWfYWNi9TiY-NGB04eyxt9-djR1XVkHfGag3Y3ahrPVNOqvXd3weHyv9QosCH_ZIq/s640/Les+at+Lindford.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My eternal thanks to our very dear friend Robert Rogers who borrowed this picture from our blog when we were last moored at Great Linford. Les is looking back towards NB Valerie through the trees. Robert added the words to offer me comfort in the months after Les' death. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=stanton+low" target="_blank">Stanton Low, Grand Union Canal</a></b>: We first moored here near the ruins of the 12th century chapel and the wildlife refuge in 2012. We had the entire section to ourselves. The area was wild and overgrown. I wrote a blog post after doing some in-depth research about the area going back to just before 1066. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"> It turns out Lord Charles Spencer, Lady Diana's brother owned this section of land adjacent to the cut with the chapel ruins. A group of locals who were working to save the chapel read my post, asked to use it for their fund raising purposes, and they worked with Milton Keynes County Council to contact Lord Spencer about the land. He agreed to donate it to the MKCC for a park to support the adjacent wildlife refuge and protect the chapel ruins if the land developers who had bought the farm on the off-side of this stretch of canal agreed not to build on all of the land but to keep a large swath along the canal as green space. The developers agreed and now one of the best planned housing estates in England sits at the top of the hill. A lovely green space filled with paths and walkways connect to the canal bridge and the park leads down from the houses to the cut. Les and I adored mooring here and watching the barn owls quarter the fields at dawn and dusk, hunting for food. This is one of those magical places for us like Marsworth. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QYwcddc28vlYSy6G1teCKcoTC7hWHJakWm_WCURg4H5xv4cwjf2HdZfuny46-weRKPfCzHzi_n5tYYl9P3t8pY0Yi-xF1Dnh-tef6D_KEpnorNfUiw-lhssM8VLErUURva7D/s1600/Les%2527+Daffodil+Stanton+Lowe.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QYwcddc28vlYSy6G1teCKcoTC7hWHJakWm_WCURg4H5xv4cwjf2HdZfuny46-weRKPfCzHzi_n5tYYl9P3t8pY0Yi-xF1Dnh-tef6D_KEpnorNfUiw-lhssM8VLErUURva7D/s640/Les%2527+Daffodil+Stanton+Lowe.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les' daffodil plant (no flowers-just four leaves) in the foreground left. I planted it near the bridge on the towpath side. there are five large rocks to the right which block the bridge from automobile traffic.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2017/05/catching-up-moving-on.html" target="_blank">Grafton Regis, past bridge 57</a></b> , around the bend from the weir. There are moorings there which overlook open fields filled with sheep stretching out to the distance. Les loved the view and every time he wanted to stop here, the moorings were full so I stopped there in May of 2017, dug a hole by the fence, scattered some of his ashes and planted a Daffodil for him. </span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Gayton, Grand Union canal</b>. Just across from a horse farm through Bridge 45 (Wrights Lane Bridge) there are lovely moorings in the countryside. Les and I loved it here. We walked up to the village of Gayton and went <b><a href="http://boatlife.blogspot.com/2014/07/scrumping-in-gayton.html" target="_blank">scrumping</a></b>. We started working on sanding down NB Valerie here in 2014, getting her ready to paint. We had been through so much but Les' health appeared to be returning at the time and he felt wonderful. We felt as though we owned the world and were sitting on top of it once more. Les' Daffodil is planted in between the large Oak tree and the short post declaring the hazard of overhead power lines with Bridge 44 in the distance. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX57U6cKHFUi0aDUrcT5vfifnhs_cSZ49RW9UagxBSVpZ9JIaMqUgAnBz0emaQPUh7Nj6Rr4DkvD_JICfqaNG84vGlR2-3fpKynL2MULwVRXkx3_wa3jlghoVzZeLddCBXV8Vg/s1600/GAyton.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX57U6cKHFUi0aDUrcT5vfifnhs_cSZ49RW9UagxBSVpZ9JIaMqUgAnBz0emaQPUh7Nj6Rr4DkvD_JICfqaNG84vGlR2-3fpKynL2MULwVRXkx3_wa3jlghoVzZeLddCBXV8Vg/s640/GAyton.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Directly across from the horse farm. </span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span>. Down the <a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=atherstone" target="_blank">Atherstone Flight on the Coventry Canal </a></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #030a03; font-family: "josefin sans"; font-size: 20px;"><b>in the long pound between the ninth lock and the final two</b> locks in the flight. There is a white foot bridge half way through this pound and Les loved to stop there at a low gap in the hedge. It is quiet countryside with a lovely view of the surrounding rolling fields.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #030a03; font-family: "josefin sans"; font-size: 20px;"> I would be eternally grateful if someone would plant some Daffodils for Les, near the white footbridge. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObHMCakKhJ3iN9P6N9TcdT5EExH2cBtOwp6epDEuIkKDpXayHYrZmbHaKkbHxRiJajp27Jcfxh8EMPSHPEW4-expGSXgs35wbg5T8Gv_LfZdWLkjJWLOVtl1Q0IIQo3O7Mi_c/s1600/The+white+bridge+Atherston.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObHMCakKhJ3iN9P6N9TcdT5EExH2cBtOwp6epDEuIkKDpXayHYrZmbHaKkbHxRiJajp27Jcfxh8EMPSHPEW4-expGSXgs35wbg5T8Gv_LfZdWLkjJWLOVtl1Q0IIQo3O7Mi_c/s640/The+white+bridge+Atherston.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The White foot bridge in the distance on the Atherstone Flight was a favorite place of Les' to stop. I wanted to plant Daffs there for him but too much traffic behind me kept me moving onward. </span></td></tr>
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<b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2017/08/a-long-cruise-and-week-at-wolseley.html" target="_blank">Bridge 70, Wolseley Bridge, Trent & Mersey Canal.</a></b> There are lovely moorings just past this bridge and Les loved to fetch up here on our way to and from the northern canals. Wolsey Nature Reserve is a short way away, there is a pub just up from the moorings on the road, and bus service into Rugeley if needed. I planted Les' ashes and a Daffodil near the middle of the spaces which can accommodate as many as five boats on these fourteen day moorings.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span>. <a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/09/autumn-equinox-2012.html" target="_blank">Great Haywood</a>, the Staffordshire & Worcestershire Canal.</b> This too is a magical place for us as it is for so many boaters. I was up to my armpits in painting the boat when I moored there and I didn't get a chance to spread some of Les' ashes and plant Daffs for him. Could someone please plant some Daffodils along the cut just where it opens out to the wide bit??<br />
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<b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2017/11/seesawing-through-congleton.html" target="_blank">Over Bridge 71, The Macclesfield Canal.</a></b> The foot bridge takes one to a muddy path into a leafy bower where a giant Beech tree gave up its life in a fierce storm many years ago now. Les and I found it blocking the pathway and we spent a day in <b><a href="http://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/08/a-cruise-that-must-be-made.html" target="_blank">August of 2012</a></b> moored up on the offside just through this bridge, cutting most of the tree into rounds and hauling them out and up onto the roof of the boat. It was hard and satisfying work but we were doing it together and that makes all the difference.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The spot between two large logs of downed Beech where I spread some of Les' ashes and planted Daffodils, on the path from Footbridge 70 on the Macclesfield canal. </span></td></tr>
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<b><a href="https://boatwif.co.uk/boat-update/familiar-places-familiar-faces-and-two-cheshire-cats/">Footbridge No. 65 on the Macclesfield Canal.</a></b> Very dear friends Ken and Sue Deveson on <b><a href="https://boatwif.co.uk/">NB Cleddau</a></b> keep keep their boat on the Maccie and they know it well. Sue writes, "In March 2017 I bought a Daffodil in a pot at Atherstone as we were cruising towards the Ashby Canal. It kept in flower on the top of the boat for quite a few weeks. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it--and then I planted it in the Autumn near Bridge 65 on the Macclesfield Canal. I had once shown a picture of the mooring there, on our blog. Les commented that it was just the sort of "out in the country mooring" he loved. There are open fields on the offside overlooked by the dominant shape of The Cloud. Whenever I pass that spot and see the view. Les will be with me. xxx "<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1y3ncxdbI4yU6XS91zajrHYCYPfSj49IO6SUGj8F87OlKlHrwfAQPkH7uz2ohmpusEeJ7wIBhi47hzs2dofeA4kC6t11tTq9Ir3cSLeq8uee22VwGZp-PJ3CyqHqlV72czdop/s1600/Bridge+65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="768" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1y3ncxdbI4yU6XS91zajrHYCYPfSj49IO6SUGj8F87OlKlHrwfAQPkH7uz2ohmpusEeJ7wIBhi47hzs2dofeA4kC6t11tTq9Ir3cSLeq8uee22VwGZp-PJ3CyqHqlV72czdop/s640/Bridge+65.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bridge No. 65 on the Macclesfield Canal where Sue Deveson planted Daffodils in honor of Les' memory. Picture taken from Boatwif's blog.<b> </b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>©</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> S. Deveson, 2017</span></td></tr>
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<b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-week-that-was_3.html" target="_blank"><br />Just before Bridge 103 N. Oxford Canal</a></b> coming from Braunston and heading to Napton. There is a lovely spot just after a bend with room for two boats before the bridge. There is also a large tree back from the towpath just there and I scattered some of Les' ashes and planted a Daffodil for him. He brought me here for the first time in September 2011 to recover from our wedding, packing up my things and shipping them, applying for my spouse visa, saying goodbye to friends and family, etc. We were both exhausted and this spot is the perfect place to fetch up for a quiet relaxing bit of rest and recovery. It is also splendidly scenic especially on a full moon evening in summer. Now a part of Les will always be there enjoying that wonderful view.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInU5Lhdd-UcF3gHZGP1uLPl7CggnFQiFvXvcvurFkj248HC0doSH2v9z6zSrtngPQFji2aM-pjtD3uq8L4WvkXW9gJF-B23HhKNRIE0PiTdJlfHUyyCGxwK3_DUXtTzXu6sSr/s1600/bridge+102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInU5Lhdd-UcF3gHZGP1uLPl7CggnFQiFvXvcvurFkj248HC0doSH2v9z6zSrtngPQFji2aM-pjtD3uq8L4WvkXW9gJF-B23HhKNRIE0PiTdJlfHUyyCGxwK3_DUXtTzXu6sSr/s640/bridge+102.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT.</span> </b><b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2017/08/into-atherstone.html" target="_blank">N. Coventry Canal just past Springwood Haven Marina.</a></b> <span style="background-color: white; color: #030a03; font-family: "josefin sans"; font-size: 20px;"> There are 14 day moorings j</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #030a03; font-family: "josefin sans"; font-size: 20px;">ust around the curve, out of site of the marina with woods all around but a break in the trees to allow all day sunshine for the solar panels. Les and I met Paul and Jennie Howland on NB Panda Julienne here in 2012 when we all stopped to cut up wood from trees that had been taken down on the canal side of the cut. It is a lovely, peaceful, rural slice of countryside and Les loved to moor up here. If someone could stop and plant some Daffodils for Les just off the towpath, I would be eternally grateful. xxx</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span></b>. <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=the+flashes" target="_blank">The Flashes, The Middlewich Arm</a></b> of the Shropshire Union. We loved mooring here. Of course when we were last there together in 2012 there were no mooring regulations moving folks on after 48 hours. We stayed a week, enjoying the view and the peace and quiet. Hardly any other boats came to moor up nearby. This another fabulous beauty spot on Britain's canals.<br />
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<b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/04/onto-llangollen.html" target="_blank">Hurleston Junction</a>, The Shropshire Union Canal. </b>The final time I moored there in December of 2018, I dug a hole through the bridge right next to the bench which looks out on the junction and across to the bottom lock. A young man was sitting on the bench watching me.<br />
We had met previously on the Arriva number 84 bus from Chester to Crewe. He was off work for a long term medical condition that was slowly improving. To keep from losing his mind and feeling stuck in the house, he walks slowly down the lock flight each day and sits on the bench for several hours watching the boats, the locks, and the local wildlife. This bearded young chap knows all the lock keepers on the flight. On my final cruise before handing NB Valerie over to her new owner, I turned around at the Junction and this young man was watching me from the bench. I explained that I had to sell the boat and it was my final cruise. I asked him to please look after my husband's Daffodil and he promised to do so.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les' Daffodils are planted just to the right of the junction signpost, next to the bench at the bottom of Hurleston Locks. </span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT</span></b>. <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-around-llangollen.html" target="_blank">The top of the LLangollen canal with a view of Dinas Bran </a></b>from the cut. We moored in several places there in 2012. Les went up on the LLangollen canal every year in March and April before the insanity of summer cruising and school holidays brought the unbearable crush of boat traffic that makes cruising this very narrow canal a bit difficult sometimes. We kept trying to get back up there to winter over but cancer kept us tethered to the Grand Union. I would love it if someone could plants some Daffs for Les as he loved the LLangollen canal best of all and I never did make it up there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRPJflFAS-_hq7p8g3Uy40hJu4adt2gech4_Pri9uRXIOJBLUoqtDJombb0R1p_hG51SzinhUbU6Q1lWm3Fh92TDs5mekDYZKwzPe9hc9tvXg8gox3b4JHWFTppRS4ETsFnPp/s1600/Les+pretending+to+fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRPJflFAS-_hq7p8g3Uy40hJu4adt2gech4_Pri9uRXIOJBLUoqtDJombb0R1p_hG51SzinhUbU6Q1lWm3Fh92TDs5mekDYZKwzPe9hc9tvXg8gox3b4JHWFTppRS4ETsFnPp/s640/Les+pretending+to+fly.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les as the Bluebird of Happiness as we walk from our moorings at Llangollen to Valle Crucis Abbey ruins in 2012. </span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT.</span></b> Near <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/10/what-difference-day-makes.html" target="_blank">Bridge 80 outside of Whittington on the North Coventry canal</a></b>. Les and I first moored here in 2012 where we met up with Jo and Keith on <a href="http://narrowboathadar.blogspot.com/"><b>NB Hadar</b></a>. I loved they way we cruised through our days and then Les would say, "Here's a good spot. we'll moor up here." He was sharing his favorite special mooring spots with me, knowing I would enjoy the beauty of the countryside, the peace of nature, and most of all sharing each moment with my Best Beloved. This is one of our favorite spots with Cannock Chase not far away.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT. </span><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/search?q=the+wendover+arm%5C" target="_blank">The Wendover Arm</a>, Grand Union Canal.</b> We adored mooring on the Wendover through Tring Bridge no. 3 which is the current terminus of the arm. A charity organization is in the process of rebuilding it. I so wanted to get down there and moor up one more time to scatter Les' ashes there and plant Daffs for him by the bench just through that last bridge. We had some lovely days and romantic nights moored there.<br />
When we had Les' initial cancer diagnosis and we were waiting for his surgery, we fetched up here. It is an incredibly healing place for us. We had permission to overstay and we spent a month here as son Kevin delivered our Greenstar juice extractor and I set about keeping Les alive and as healthy as possible before his first cancer staging surgery.<br />
Cruising this arm on a sunny summer day with dragonflies flitting all around us and Kingfishers dipping and diving all along the way was nothing short of magical and incredibly soul healing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscFR7WgwHhBMAYvC8he7tQiYwUUlieIFbKIBmzRWqJUNhgFpR6cjSNG4URpDfuZjrzgEzBzf1icpjNYn0uDOGWsAa1y30bOLuXaeJQ2liID_sFiVnAof0Bz3PYz_6nZ0dNncv/s1600/IMG_7402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscFR7WgwHhBMAYvC8he7tQiYwUUlieIFbKIBmzRWqJUNhgFpR6cjSNG4URpDfuZjrzgEzBzf1icpjNYn0uDOGWsAa1y30bOLuXaeJQ2liID_sFiVnAof0Bz3PYz_6nZ0dNncv/s640/IMG_7402.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les walks towards Bridge No. 3 on the Wendover arm, the last time we moored there in 2014.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSIxz_AEFbWBS1MDbqbBL8Cb_c60SGyj9UBBNf-9-JoTVd-baGZTU5YmQmY-TV9F4gH_KvoIJJIKA9IZFndDL35LCfI5JY5GonaxtMYeCUM0E7MmonmNWkbzIJicMOR8b8g0F/s1600/IMG_7531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSIxz_AEFbWBS1MDbqbBL8Cb_c60SGyj9UBBNf-9-JoTVd-baGZTU5YmQmY-TV9F4gH_KvoIJJIKA9IZFndDL35LCfI5JY5GonaxtMYeCUM0E7MmonmNWkbzIJicMOR8b8g0F/s640/IMG_7531.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our lovely home in the summer evening sunshine on the Wendover Arm, 2014.</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">VACANT.</span> <a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2014/09/high-summer-on-crack-hill.html" target="_blank">The Leicester Arm with a view of Crack hill</a></b> by Yelvertoft Marina. There are lovely moorings just past the entrance to Yelvertoft Marina and Bridge 17. This was our truly final carefree mooring in the summer of 2014 when Les was feeling fighting fit and we had no idea cancer was traveling through his system and setting up shop in his liver all the while. The blackberries were everywhere that summer and we walked up Crack Hill, picking and freezing fourteen pounds in three days! They made healthy smoothies for Les in the months to come.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrS6JVRFcwCTymZKabgT6sVvlbyDWzpoZFNv_oJ1ASpT3M4-YRrqWMhng7Ya8DYQJ9Mk1lFKU__XUBZLfuDkfOPytBRwo6r0i14yHWXXGgw1lw6dcFASsWYTQZyIfitd2Bk14/s1600/Atlas+holds+up+the+beacon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrS6JVRFcwCTymZKabgT6sVvlbyDWzpoZFNv_oJ1ASpT3M4-YRrqWMhng7Ya8DYQJ9Mk1lFKU__XUBZLfuDkfOPytBRwo6r0i14yHWXXGgw1lw6dcFASsWYTQZyIfitd2Bk14/s640/Atlas+holds+up+the+beacon.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les single handedly holds up the Jubilee Bacon n the top of Crack Hill!</span></td></tr>
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<b>The Forget-Me-Nots (Myosotis) and Tattoos</b><br />
At Les' memorial service in March of 2017 family member Adele Howard kindly made up small gift bags filled with plant bulbs or seeds and other little bits and bobs in memory of Les. Our very dear friends Tina and Andy Elford's mom took one home and planted the Forget-Me-Knots in her garden. They bloom now each year and remind Sandra of past memories when Les, Tina and Andy cruised together. Sandra would travel down to visit laden with freshly baked cheese scones for her son-in-law Andy. Inevitably Les would winkle a few from Sandra, much to Andy's consternation!! Much laughter and good fun was had and those memories are very precious.<br />
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Forget-Me-Nots are the Alaska State flower. The day before Les and I married my daughters and I got matching Forget-Me-Not tattoos; the same tattoo but in different places. I did it as a remembrance of my life before Les, in honor of my children, and I chose a place that only Les and I would likely see. As Les' life dwindled down he would peek at my tattoo, knowing that all too soon my Forget-Me-Nots would also remind me of him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKAi_RFo94CVfSVvoUwfYJfYq5YsB4PK_2NRvfI2my-BBUT-gNl9gQ7X5IfC97vlw3t8clrvffOQUMreICYBIRWsAxB3mriKcQ4vgu2YpPibrAXMmwGL_twOKGzIVKSKcacfA/s1600/10208026229710168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKAi_RFo94CVfSVvoUwfYJfYq5YsB4PK_2NRvfI2my-BBUT-gNl9gQ7X5IfC97vlw3t8clrvffOQUMreICYBIRWsAxB3mriKcQ4vgu2YpPibrAXMmwGL_twOKGzIVKSKcacfA/s640/10208026229710168.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Les doing a little Tattoo peeking in the moments after we were declared husband and wife. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirV_GZXGuAvqMAaB3BmeiEnomGDty3CEMnC0NAWYgNFAkxJR05AiPvBb-bybjNwDxQll64IQ_VerVFZrCTYXMI7MsubhG4Xyt1ek9pq9ir-Aa_6WXWyNM99ichkh3KELM4amyz/s1600/Tian%2527s+tattoo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="714" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirV_GZXGuAvqMAaB3BmeiEnomGDty3CEMnC0NAWYgNFAkxJR05AiPvBb-bybjNwDxQll64IQ_VerVFZrCTYXMI7MsubhG4Xyt1ek9pq9ir-Aa_6WXWyNM99ichkh3KELM4amyz/s640/Tian%2527s+tattoo.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tina Elford's Forget-Me-Not tattoo design in honor of Les and other loved ones who have died.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-ZJ0Qp0gHoqBI0_lipX0mnlkpQdVAvRRGnZ3cLY0tTS-IErE3bfLNoXiUQz_aeGIJK7KHQ0yglPKmi0vji3jdSezjhJZtD0rHPmWCbwgPdig0Or42uz5NJU1ReDmAZA9ucLd/s1600/Memorial+Tatto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-ZJ0Qp0gHoqBI0_lipX0mnlkpQdVAvRRGnZ3cLY0tTS-IErE3bfLNoXiUQz_aeGIJK7KHQ0yglPKmi0vji3jdSezjhJZtD0rHPmWCbwgPdig0Or42uz5NJU1ReDmAZA9ucLd/s640/Memorial+Tatto.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I got this tattoo of entwined hearts and the infinity symbol in remembrance of our undying love and the nature of our relationship as soul mates. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquBE_Il_0S_5jf7gXaTOJ2r19myzW7Eus8XQLwadDzMcnbWzqHE9biBJOVufCEEHrY6dJDJv0utJvZy5ox_tDM68JwJ4NTuE1qzWKchWaFPTo5QcsDVpDR2ZnvuD-reGBZpc2/s1600/53604787_10205448679253109_7387857946899644416_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="612" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquBE_Il_0S_5jf7gXaTOJ2r19myzW7Eus8XQLwadDzMcnbWzqHE9biBJOVufCEEHrY6dJDJv0utJvZy5ox_tDM68JwJ4NTuE1qzWKchWaFPTo5QcsDVpDR2ZnvuD-reGBZpc2/s640/53604787_10205448679253109_7387857946899644416_n.jpg" width="446" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our daughter Sparky designed this tattoo because Les said this to her once. The bluebirds are in honor of her Da' and his playful dances as the Bluebird of Happiness as he walked down the towpath of our life. </span></td></tr>
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Death, the last sleep? No, it's the final awakening." ~ Walter Scott</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-47065792774247459392019-02-04T01:40:00.001+00:002019-02-06T19:09:39.130+00:00Final Cruise<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: inherit;"><b><i>"What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness." ~ John Steinbeck, Nobel prize winning American author, 1902-1968.</i></b></span><br />
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The December morning dawned icy cold and bright with the promise of winter sun. After a day of rest and recovery from work, I wanted to cruise to the Nantwich service point, fill up with water and dump my rubbish. I only use half a tank of water in a week but I am loathe to leave the tank half empty in winter with uncertain weather. The Magpies have learned over the years that boats storing black rubbish bags on their roof or decks are in fact sources of food. In years past Les and I would wake up to find the bags had been savaged and plundered, bits of food, pieces of shredded paper towel, and anything else spread all over the bow deck. Once Les even had a fox come aboard the bow and get into the rubbish bag during a bitter cold winter when the boat was frozen in for weeks.</div>
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I have discovered a clever means of foiling the wildlife in winter: I save my empty coal bags and put my kitchen and bathroom rubbish bags inside them, then secure the coal bag shut with a plastic kitchen clippy and store it tucked out of the way under the gunnel of the bow. Job done and the wild folk are none the wiser about what is actually stored in the coal bags!</div>
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I flipped the switch on the inverter, watching it come to life with flashing lights that gave me a reading on the electrics. Back in the galley I turned the washing machine on, and used an empty detergent bottle filled with water to help fill the washing machine. The Eco Egg I use in place of laundry detergent traveled in an arc around with my clothes, and I knew the load would be nearly finished by the time I reached the service point and moored up. </div>
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As I stepped up out of the stern of NB Valerie, my breath made warm clouds of steam in the air. Slipping off a glove, I used my nails to break the skin-thin layer of ice on the stern seats Les built for me before he died, wiping them down with a rag as the engine caught and warmed in the icy air. I reached down into the stern hatch and pulled out the brass tiller and slipped it onto the swan neck; dropping the tiller pin in place, I remembered the thousand of times Les' lovely hands did the very same thing. The tiller pin is smooth with the years of his hands on it. I warmed the glow plugs and turned the engine over, letting it warm up while I cast off. </div>
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I walked down the towpath, stepped onto the bow and lowered the TV antenna, tucking it down between bags of coal on the roof, securing it for the trip; I loosened the bow rope, stepped off and pulled the fender up, tucking it down in the bow under the gunnel. Gathering the bow rope into loose coils, I set it by the T-Stud where I could reach across to nab it when I reached the water point.</div>
<div>
Walking the length of NB Valerie, I gently pushed her bow out towards the center of the canal, pulling the stern fender and tossing it on the roof, loosening the rear mooring rope, coiling it and tucking is out of my way. I climbed on my stool, settled into the stern seat, grabbed the tiller, put the boat in gear and we were off in the early morning light. It was 7:30 am and the sun was just about to clear the horizon, burnishing the sky with a golden morning glow.</div>
<div>
I bundled up warm in my Duluth Trading Company trousers made from fire hose canvas, a long sleeved fleece sweatshirt, thick socks, my LL Bean winter boots, Les' green LL Bean down jacket, my black knitted cruising hat, and a pair of old gloves. The superb boater's scarf my favorite oldest daughter Jesse knitted for Les from green marled Llama yarn so exquisitely soft and warm, was snuggled around my neck and crossed on my chest, a hug from my Best Beloved who wore it with this same jacket. </div>
<div>
I had a long line of moored boats to pass as I cruised on tick-over, barely making a ripple on the water. Boats were hunkered down in the cold cut, most folks still in their warm beds. A few had smoke billowing from their chimneys as someone inside stirred the coals, dumped the ash and revived the fire.<br />
As I cruised, I noticed the boat names: Arwen Evenstar, Bessie Surtees, Time Out, Whitsunday Pie, The Thief of Time, Magic Window, Caramia, Magpie's Nest...a boater out walking his dog waved hello and called out, "You're on the move early!" With a wave and a smile I replied, "The early boater gets the water point!" We laughed as we gave each a thumb's up and headed in opposite directions. </div>
<div>
The sun cleared the horizon behind me, painting the water in ripples of peach and gold. I slowed the boat as I approached the dock of the service point, avoiding the line of pointed bows on boats moored horizontally on Nantwich Marina moorings. NB Val's bow touched the dockside gently. I pulled the tiller all the way to port and gave her a nudge with the engine, bringing the stern in, then reversed again to slow her right down, stepping off with the bow rope, reaching over the side to put the engine in neutral, wrapping the mid-line around the bollard to slow the boat right down and gently pull her into the side of the dock. </div>
<div>
After securing her fore and aft, I unloaded the rubbish bags, pulled the hose out of the large bow locker, used my Yale key to unlock the water point, connected the hose, turned on the tap and watched as the cobalt blue, wrinkled water pipe filled and expanded, snaking across the paving stones towards the boat. Quickly I stepped down inside the bow, reached into one of the interior bow closets for the plastic key to unscrew the brass water cap, and dropped an Aqua Tab down the neck of the tank to purify the water. I turned the hose on and let the water spray over the bow, making sure there was no debris or spiders in it, before I turned it off again, dropped the nozzle down the hole in the bow deck, turned it on again and listened with satisfaction as the stainless steel water tank echoed with the sound of filling water. </div>
<div>
I gathered the rubbish bags and strolled to the bins to toss them inside, pausing to share a few words with another boater out walking her dog. Her boat was in Nantwich Marina for work. She had just returned from visiting her children in Texas. An American who lived and worked in both the U.S. and the U.K. for years, she was excited to collect the British State Pension and U.S. Social Security, allowing her to afford to live aboard her boat. "Oh your the Alaskan lady they mentioned in the chandlers. They said there was another American on a boat nearby."</div>
<div>
Back aboard NB Valerie I grabbed the bottle of dish washing liquid and stepped out to dribble some along the top of the gunnel, the entire length of the boat, and a dot here and there on the roof. I pulled the telescoping brush from the closet by the bow doors, and in the brisk and frosty cold, I scrubbed the dirt and debris from the roof and side of our boat. Once the water tank was full I hosed away the suds, shut off the water, put the hose away, and prepared to take our boat into Nantwich marina to moor up for replacement of the glow plugs.<br />
At the end of the week, I am facing my last full day aboard the boat that has been my home for eight years. Ive lived aboard NB Valerie longer than I have lived anywhere else since I left my parent's house at age sixteen. I moved twenty-seven times in forty years. I thought I would live the rest of my life aboard our boat, cruising the cut with Les. When he died I resolved to do everything I could to make life without him work out so I could continue to live the life we both loved dearly; a life of small simplicity which suited us both to a T and which was manageable for me. Sadly life has not worked out as I wished, wanted, and worked towards. Here I am moving yet again, back across the world, leaving a huge part of my heart and soul behind on Britain's canals.<br />
After a frenzied week of sorting and packing, I am living among a tower of boxes and black rubbish bags. Before I started packing I looked around the boat, thinking to myself, " 58 feet by seven feet wide; remove the outside bow and stern bits and that leaves approximately 240 square feet of living space. There really can't be more than ten or eleven boxes of stuff here for me to pack." Ha, ha, ha, Pffft...I finished up with thirty one boxes of belongings although I left all the bedroom and bathroom linens, rugs, towels, blankets, down comforters, all of the galley equipment (pots, pans, dishes, glass and silverware), and all of Les' tools with the boat.<br />
It was time for one final cruise before loading all my worldly goods into a van and handing the boat over to her new owner in the morning. First I wanted to fill up with water and dump six huge, black bags of rubbish after a week of emptying drawers and cupboards, and packing up our belongings. I chose to do all this at the Nantwich service point which required a very tricky three point turn where the marina entrance met the Shroppie canal. The confluence forms a Y, with a bridge hole at the intersection of the two arms and to make things even more complicated, a stop lock just at the bridge.<br />
I turned over the boat engine with her new glow plugs and she started bright and true on a dime--no more smoke and coughing. I un-moored and cruised slowly out to the Y where I stopped, made the very tight three point turn, and cruised through the stop lock and bridge to moor up on the service point, my heart swelling with joy. Job done and Les would have been so proud of me! Of course there were no gongoozlers on this occasion to witness my prowess.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeu-FVLU64Our32DtmyQJaWhxOuZvXLp04I3mR5B-HFNhkcJOSvZmAIHeon7heorOAJtKakEkD6xJSBMmmWNytxRdErDFLJbDl1n9toWB7nxABOjh__GmQeH_7z-25hh20VgE/s1600/Y+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="268" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeu-FVLU64Our32DtmyQJaWhxOuZvXLp04I3mR5B-HFNhkcJOSvZmAIHeon7heorOAJtKakEkD6xJSBMmmWNytxRdErDFLJbDl1n9toWB7nxABOjh__GmQeH_7z-25hh20VgE/s320/Y+pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The bridge at the Y with the stop lock gate. <br />Nantwich marina water is just the other side of <br />that umbrella over the picnic table. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndnxRjYUqo_C46EHguN9pnCU3DcEwCNTp6JXwB9jhtowm5wd5O6KQ031nxMrEfBJIUCu0iddnhbfzd44KekTgEUKVWZRjUA4pwvokEjeDrdsS5T2VznlzCQUvIc_1Pswu8W3w/s1600/looking+through+the+bridge+hole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="255" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndnxRjYUqo_C46EHguN9pnCU3DcEwCNTp6JXwB9jhtowm5wd5O6KQ031nxMrEfBJIUCu0iddnhbfzd44KekTgEUKVWZRjUA4pwvokEjeDrdsS5T2VznlzCQUvIc_1Pswu8W3w/s320/looking+through+the+bridge+hole.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Looking through the same bridge hole to a <br />boat moored on the service point.</span></td></tr>
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Ruth and Richard Chamberlain came along to the service point and tied up in front of me. We chatted and I explained NB Valerie had been sold and I was leaving the cut. After saying goodbye to them and several other local boaters coming along for water, I screwed the cap tight on our water tank one last time and slowly pulled NB Val away from the bollards. Through Nantwich, over the aqueduct, past the permanent moorings, past the children's playground with their voices ringing in the cold morning air, through bridge 90 to turn at the winding hole and head back through Nantwich one final time, waving goodbye to old Bob on<b> NB Leopard</b> who was concerned about the state of my chimney a year ago when I first turned up to moor in Nantwich. Bob gifted me with an extra chimney he had stowed away. Goodbyes were called out along my route: from townie Jim who walked his border collie every morning along the towpath and stopped to chat with me. Over the past year we had become friends who looked forward to seeing one another whenever I cruised into town and moored up; from local dog walkers who frequented <b><a href="http://nantwichbooks.tbpcontrol.co.uk/tbp.direct/customeraccesscontrol/home.aspx?d=nantwichbooks&s=C&r=10000149&ui=0&bc=0" target="_blank">Nantwich Book Shop and Cafe</a></b> where I had worked and who knew to look for me along the cut; from other locally moored boaters who had grown used to spotting NB Valerie as I plied the cut from the top of the Bunbury staircase locks to the bottom of the Audlem locks. Just before the aqueduct, <b><a href="http://chamberlaincarryingco.co.uk/" target="_blank">Chamberlain Carrying Company</a></b> had returned from filling with water and their working boats Mountbatten and Jellicoe were moored up. Ruth stepped out on the stern and waved goodbye to me and tears began to roll down my face. I would miss her and Richard, and the others who plied the cut on fuel boats: Jason on <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Coalboat.Alton/photos/thank-you-nb-valerie-for-keeping-me-warm-inside-with-chicken-noodle-soup-while-t/1963959353720560/" target="_blank">NB Bargus</a></b>, and Lee and Roberta on <b><a href="http://www.fourcountiesfuels.co.uk/schedules/" target="_blank">NB Halsall</a></b>--all of whom have delivered fuel, coal and kindling to me over the past year, checking in with me to make sure I was still alive and kicking.<br />
I cruised over the Nantwich aqueduct one last time, looking down on Chester Road, then made the gentle curve to port, passed the long line of moored boats once more. Folks were up and out, checking their mooring lines, walking dogs, and emptying ash pans with a grin, a nod, and a wave hello. How I mill miss these folks--my people. While I haven't made direct acquaintance of any of these particular boaters, I am hailed, thanked for passing on tick over, and given the nod of recognition that says, "Hiya fellow boater..." and my heart constricts with a pain so sharp it takes my breath away. I know in my bones that any one of the boaters I am passing would come to my aid if I needed them, if I asked. I felt safe and protected among them, despite not actually knowing any of them beyond a friendly nod and wave. I know of no other community of its like anywhere else in the world.<br />
Past the water point, through the bridge hole and the stop lock and onward slowly, NB Valerie's bow cutting through the winter dark water as Swans, ducks and a pair of Moor hens glide out of the way. I pass through a hump backed bridge near Acton and slow down to tick over as the overgrowth on the offside is reaching to the middle of the canal at a curve and I cannot see beyond it.<br />
My breath curls out of my mouth in white puffs of steaming warmth. I move through the curve and spot the derelict narrow boat tilting slightly toward the towpath, loosely moored with her bow pulling slowly away from the side as I pass. The boat's pea green paint is scuffed and peeling, providing no inkling of its name. Plastic carrier bags stuffed with junk protrude from the stern deck which is completely filled with flotsam and jetsam. Large black rubbish bags are piled on the roof with other bit and bobs, some hanging over the side. The bow too is filled with similar items. The small jalousie windows are filthy and the curtains are ragged and water stained. This boat has been moored here between two curves with over-arching growth needing trimming, for the past year.<br />
Scuttlebutt from other local boaters says the woman on board has lived on the cut for forty years. She has aged now and reached a point where she is no longer able to move her boat and so CRT allows her to stay put where she is happiest, with a short walk over the hump backed bridge, across the farmer's fallow fields and on to the roadside bus stop across from Acton church. I cannot say much for her choice of mooring spots from the point of view of a continuous cruiser. Between the overhanging tree limbs on the offside and her loosely moored craft it is nigh impossible to see other boats coming in either direction and I've seen near collisions several times over the last year as marina boaters in a bleeding hurry churn around the curve, failing to grant her the courtesy of slowing down, only to find themselves quickly back peddling in reverse as an oncoming boat's bow slices perilously close. A plastic cruiser moored near here for eight months, leaving just enough room for a 58 foot boat to slot itself in between them and I had to slow to a stop and move over on one occasion last summer when some stupid toff on a shiny, new boat came hurtling round the curve, failing to give a warning toot of his horn or slow down at all. He missed slamming in to NBV by mere inches and I missed hitting her boat by a tight eight inches. <br />
I've actually seen this woman get on the bus on three different occasions. She doesn't appear to be any older than me. Her hair is dyed bright orange with dark gray roots. Her face is corrugated with years of cigarette smoking. She dresses in men's clothes: black cargo pants, pockets bulging with stuff; a man's brown coat, and fingerless gloves which show yellowed, hard working hands sporting a thick black crust underneath all ten fingernails. Hobnailed leather boots covered in mud complete her ensemble, as she boards the bus with a trolley overflowing with fat, black rubbish bags and other assorted items. She casts a gimlet eye upon us, making the other occupants of the bus uncomfortable. The bus driver waits impatiently for Madam to find a seat. Her eyes meet mine and skitter away, coming back to my smile and nod. No matter what she looks like, we are both boaters and I will welcome her to sit beside me. I realize that she is likely dealing with a learning disability or some other issue that makes reading social cues difficult. Other bus passengers tsk-tsk at her sideways leaning, overflowing trolley and lack of refined cleanliness. She refuses to look at anyone, and the bus driver continues on towards Nantwich.<br />
After passing by her craft and the S turns, I come out to a pleasant spot overlooking a field sloping down to the cut on the offside. Horses and their year old foals are grazing and the sky clears suddenly as the winter sun pierces my gaze, lighting everything with a lovely warmth that still astounds me. How can a star 92.96 million miles away from earth manage to warm my cheek and cause steam to rise from the cold ground? I can hear Les' voice asking me this very question, wonder in his lovely brown eyes.<br />
Onward I cruise, through a small bridge hole where the bridge itself is long gone. A blue tent is pitched on a rise above the towpath, rippling in the light winter breeze. A man and woman in the latest winter gear stand watching me as I slow through the gap, turn the bow towards the towpath to avoid the overhanging branches on the offside, and bring the stern around after passing by them. I smile and nod as they wave. My heart is filled with defiant joy at our forward movement, me and NB Valerie--the only things moving on this cold December morning. Les should be here with me; Les <i>is</i> here with me, and my hand clutches the tiller tighter.<br />
Onward I travel through the large concrete bridge of the A51 motorway, slowing as I come through the other side to Henhull. The Shroppie widens out here, with reed beds to the left, continuous cruisers NB Magic Window moored up on 14 day moorings on the towpath side and a line of boats moored on the permanent offside moorings. I cruise slowly past, noting the chimney smoke on various boats, spotting the lovely bloke on <b>NB Galadriel</b>. I have no idea how old he is; roughly late forties to early fifties I guess. He sports long black and silver dreads that snake to his waist; dark, intelligent eyes, dimpled cheeks and a gorgeous smile showing bright, white teeth. Our boats have passed dozens of times as he has cruised into Nantwich for services from his permanent mooring, passing me on his way to the winding hole to turn, cruise back through Nantwich and out to Henhull to moor up again. Several times we've spoken to one another as our boats have passed each other, and once he slowed to allow me to pull in and moor up, complimenting me on my manners (I had signaled him my intentions in plenty of time), and the smooth, easy way I brought NBV into the side and stepped off her. It was quiet praise from an experienced boater who expected a woman of my stature might have had trouble pulling in an 18 ton boat on her own.<br />
On past the large winding hole and on to the open countryside where Les would surely have moored up had he been cruising together in the flesh, following the wide, meandering cut. Through the next bridge hole and onto the last section of the Shroppie approaching Hurleston Junction--the confluence of the Shropshire Union with the beginning of the LLangollen canal.<br />
I slowed to pass four boats moored before the bridge as Valerie sliced along the cut gently, gently, the bow clearing the bridge hole; still no other boats on the move, breaking the quiet morning. On the towpath side of this wide intersection of water is a bench where a bearded bloke sits quietly with ear buds in, listening to an audio book. He is another local whose acquaintance I've made on the bus into Nantwich. Riffed from his position over eight months previously after suffering a health crisis, he spends most days on the bench watching narrow boats coming and going in and out of Hurleston locks, through the bridge hole and on to either Nantwich or Chester, or up the fight towards LLangollen, Wales. We never exchanged names, only life stories. He sat in quiet reverence months previously while I squatted next to his seat on the bench and dug a hole with a hand trowel. I scattered a handful of Les' ashes in the hole and planted a Daffodil bulb on top, covering over both with dark, wet earth, patted down firmly to await spring.<br />
I waved to him as I started to turn the bow of NB Valerie to the port side, beginning to turn her around for the cruise back to Nantwich marina. I hailed him over the sound of the engine revs:<br />
"I have had to sell the boat. I am returning to the States in a few weeks. This is my final cruise. Will you look after my husband's ashes and his Daffodil for me?"<br />
He waves his mittened right hand and nods his bearded head in the affirmative, watching me as I turn our boat one final time and begin to glide towards the bridge hole.<br />
"Goodbye. Take care of yourself." His voice rings across the water.<br />
"I will; you too." And I am gone with a final wave, remembering me and Les mooring up nearby, waiting for good weather to make our cruise up Hurleston lock flight back in <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/04/onto-llangollen.html" target="_blank">April </a></b>2012, stopping in Burland for the best fresh, homemade chicken and mushroom pies I've ever had before heading onward toward Wrenbury, <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/04/lifting-bridge-to-marbury.html" target="_blank">Marbury</a></b>, and the <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/05/grindley-brook.html" target="_blank">Grindley Staircase locks</a></b>, meeting dear friends Elsie and Eric fletcher on <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/04/welcome-to-wales.html" target="_blank">NB Bendigedig</a> </b> and writing a blog to answer a multitude of questions by Canadian blog follower (and now a very dear, dear friend), <b><a href="https://boatlife.blogspot.com/2012/04/answer-for-bryce-one-of-our-readers.html" target="_blank">Bryce Lee,</a></b> concerning my settling into Britain as an ex-pat and how Les and I managed life on the cut.<br />
Clouds pass over the sun as I head back; they pass over my aching heart acknowledging this is my last cruise aboard our lovely home. Tears spring from my eyes, and my sobbing chest clutches as I cruise past so many well loved places, memories flooding through me. Too soon and I am making my approach to the Y at the bridge hole, turning right into Nantwich Basin instead of cruising straight on to moor up somewhere along the towpath as I've done for eight fast flying years; my cruising life comes to a gentle, quiet end. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-23948694320234284232018-12-12T10:26:00.001+00:002018-12-12T10:26:14.971+00:00NB Valerie Has Sold<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;">"If you are brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello." ~Paul Coelho, Brazilian lyricist and novelist</span></i></b><br />
<br />
Four people contacted me about viewing the boat since I listed it for sale. Yesterday morning at breakfast another person sent me an email and today, yet another. Yesterday the first person came to view the boat. I met his wonderful family, and we spent two and a half hours going over the boat from bow to stern. He made an offer and I accepted it. If all goes well, I intend to be packed and away with everything settled, before Christmas.<br />
I am fortunate to have such loving, supportive friends both here and in North America. I will stay with friends while I arrange to have my personal belongings shipped back to the States. I hope to visit some of the lovely people who've become such good friends over the seven years I've lived here in the U.K. and then...I will be away, flying back to America and the arms of my family who are excited to have their mom and Grandmother coming back to roost amidst them; back to the bosom of wonderful friends on the other side of the Pond who are thrilled I am returning.<br />
I don't know where exactly I will end up. I am going to trust the Universe and bounce a bit, visiting family and friends while I see what comes up for me in terms of a place to settle down, and opportunities for good employment. I am nearly finished with my first book draft which I have been working on for eight years, and I will be submitting it to a publisher soon. Fingers crossed it is picked up for publication and goes right to the top of the best seller list! Everybody loves a good true love story right???<br />
Since Samhain on October 31st I have felt Les strong around me. I know he was with me yesterday and he continues to look out for me. He may be dis-incarnate but we are still in a relationship of true love with one another that transcends death.<br />
My head is spinning! I cannot believe how quickly things move sometimes. While I am sad to be leaving our lovely home and the community of fellow boaters who have welcomed, befriended and nurtured both me and Les, I am very pleased that NB Valerie will provide a wonderful home for a lovely new owner who hopefully will have decades of life aboard her and who will feel surrounded and protected by all the love and care Les and I put into this boat and each other.<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-83682400778494561292018-11-23T16:40:00.000+00:002018-11-24T09:43:40.827+00:00Narrow Boat Valerie For Sale<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">"Acceptance is being in the moment without necessarily agreeing with it. It is about facing reality rather than trying to control it." ~ Anonymous</span></i></b><br />
<br />
The death of my husband and my own ill health forces the sale of our lovely home, NB Valerie. Built by Hamilton Bespoke Narrow boats, she went into the water in January 2006. We have been her sole owners as live aboard continuous cruisers for 12 years. NB Valerie is 58 feet long, with a semi-trad stern. <b><i>Serious inquiries only. All reasonable offers considered. Asking £44,500.00 ONO. I am willing to negotiate with the right buyer. I want NB Valerie to have a new owner or owners who will love her as much we have. E-mail me at biggsbiglove@gmail.com. Currently cruising in Nantwich, Cheshire. </i></b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li> 33HP Vetus engine</li>
<li>180 Ltr/40 Gal. diesel fuel tank with two 25 Ltr. metal jerry cans stored in the stern locker for emergency diesel storage with a motor impelled pump to pump the diesel from the cans directly into the tank without having to lift them</li>
<li>650 Ltr./144 Gal. stainless steel water tank with sweet, clean water (100 ft. hose)</li>
<li>Pure Sine Wave 3000 watt inverter</li>
<li>Candy on board washing machine (piped directly into the boat's hot & cold water to keep from draining the batteries when washing on hot)</li>
<li>Shoreline 12 Volt refrigerator with separate freezer compartment</li>
<li>430 watts OnBoard Solar panel system with top of the line MPPT controller installed August 2017</li>
<li>Ebispacher on board radiator heating, replaced new in 2015</li>
<li>22 inch HD TV with built in DVD player and Freeview, installed 2016</li>
<li>Pioneer radio system with ceiling speakers, installed 2017 </li>
<li>20 inch thick firm Memory foam mattress with Cool Blue technology, new 2017</li>
<li>Charging station for two computers simultaneously, and two other stations for other electronics</li>
<li>All LED lighting throughout the boat</li>
<li>Valar Willow solid fuel stove with new fire bricks and new stainless steel double skinned chimney (and two older replacement chimneys should you need them!)</li>
<li>Airhead Marine composting toilet installed in 2012 (new, never used chemical toilet stored in Engine bay)</li>
<li>Boat safety certificate good until August 2020</li>
<li>Fully licensed and insured</li>
<li>Last blacked in January 2017 with all anodes replaced </li>
<li>Dinette folds down to a double bed (extra thick cushions and easy to remove and wash upholstery covers replaced in November 2013)</li>
<li>All mooring ropes and fenders were replaced brand new in 2017</li>
<li>6 mooring pins, three hammers, four nappy pins, and one set of mooring chains. Two bow mooring ropes--one on each side, one stern mooring rope and two mid-line ropes--one for each side. </li>
<li>Plank, boat pole and boat hook</li>
<li>Loads of storage space</li>
<li>Extra parts included: second Shurflo water pump, parts for Ebispacher, 7 oil filters, engine belts, six tubes of stern gland grease etc. </li>
<li>Extensive tools to stay with boat, including five year old Husqvarna 17 inch chain saw and sharpening set; brand new log splitter axe and sharpening stone, hammers, Dremel set, sockets, wrenches, screwdrivers, etc. </li>
<li>Out of the water for a replacement of the cutlass bearing and a new larger prop in January 2018, a marine engineer at Aqueduct Marina examined the hull closely and pronounced it in excellent shape. </li>
<li>She comes with a complete list of all work done and repairs with completion dates, all past BSC certificates, original boat paperwork, and all instruction manuals for on board appliances and boat parts. </li>
<li>Pots, pans, silverware, dish and glassware, immersion blender, hand blender, cookware and many linens stay with boat. You could simply pick up some groceries, come aboard, turn the key and cruise off just as you do in a hire boat!</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEskiNqYzs3IbCWhG4FoLP0ZFG0DXYB0u4waLPsrwaks9a849b7CZa6YHw9MYeZ9PdDXMAARSnD99NsTzgcG4Ho6WmTaIgP5Kjo1Op4d704gfvlKcl_R-iXqhYghjKmfiIh3Az/s1600/DSCF5315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEskiNqYzs3IbCWhG4FoLP0ZFG0DXYB0u4waLPsrwaks9a849b7CZa6YHw9MYeZ9PdDXMAARSnD99NsTzgcG4Ho6WmTaIgP5Kjo1Op4d704gfvlKcl_R-iXqhYghjKmfiIh3Az/s640/DSCF5315.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were in the middle of painting NBV when Les received a terminal cancer diagnosis. Like a lovely lady of a certain age, she needs a bit of slap as the Brits call makeup. The paint job needs to be completed and all the paint, white spirit, brushes, rollers, Fertan rust converter, primer, sanding paper and two sanders come with the boat. This is an opportunity for new owners to personalize her or even change her name. All the crucial bits--the engine, inverter, water tank, hull, etc. are in excellent nick.</span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxUz_s3eM4SfdqE5ubG1xHbf8Fid9u9hdX7m3PPYRhO_iQYKrnqjdT7mNv3cxwgPhLKaCHjHyegOCR2xd4rbYMgr-x7ECfLlbpHIhix2vvnw3330ohar3bW3gFlH97SNczyXU/s1600/P1100321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxUz_s3eM4SfdqE5ubG1xHbf8Fid9u9hdX7m3PPYRhO_iQYKrnqjdT7mNv3cxwgPhLKaCHjHyegOCR2xd4rbYMgr-x7ECfLlbpHIhix2vvnw3330ohar3bW3gFlH97SNczyXU/s640/P1100321.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithASN3B-gAAE5WLY2-fpcNF6B2UPD0wESdFsaPZjH0YC4r0MTCBajaOGRNG7HeaXr-6VarURScVvH32-YNY9KfnQw1sxiR4HPwd-JjsQrt5i2HGKWzQ8RYp0ubRPNVH25gxLx/s1600/new+crankshaft+cutlassbearing+and+stern+gland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithASN3B-gAAE5WLY2-fpcNF6B2UPD0wESdFsaPZjH0YC4r0MTCBajaOGRNG7HeaXr-6VarURScVvH32-YNY9KfnQw1sxiR4HPwd-JjsQrt5i2HGKWzQ8RYp0ubRPNVH25gxLx/s640/new+crankshaft+cutlassbearing+and+stern+gland.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A look at the brand new cutlass bearing and waterless stern gland installed in January 2018. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_P5Aapnj-_OZxp3Z21jt_ygrUxBr03TOJRfTF6HMwzV8b4WkfOQEpM4veMIRHwUE_FC9b8JTHmbfBt5nlVrX8h3q2I4pX1H3WtIGGj25tXzRJKhrbs7V4MsRISX3WSCobx8T/s1600/Clean+and+tidy+engine+bay+and+Vetus+33+HO+engine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_P5Aapnj-_OZxp3Z21jt_ygrUxBr03TOJRfTF6HMwzV8b4WkfOQEpM4veMIRHwUE_FC9b8JTHmbfBt5nlVrX8h3q2I4pX1H3WtIGGj25tXzRJKhrbs7V4MsRISX3WSCobx8T/s640/Clean+and+tidy+engine+bay+and+Vetus+33+HO+engine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Close up of the Vetus 33 HP engine. NB Valerie has a freshly cleaned and painted engine bay and brand new aluminium checker plate engine bay cover--easy to lift and is brilliant at keeping water out. The engine bay is always dry. The oil and filters are changed faithfully every 350 hours. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGr7Zo25OrdlxK5heNjXsUkYNoHRlMR-ec8WrdMMv_BQzOqqnAD0aGSTjoUPy753R6Iy1I7lukLI6zn4tBiN8ZBYGslZw7Fe5IOONNRZg84Rxj9GOa73GDFXKQ6Vx_racqTbt/s1600/New+prop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGr7Zo25OrdlxK5heNjXsUkYNoHRlMR-ec8WrdMMv_BQzOqqnAD0aGSTjoUPy753R6Iy1I7lukLI6zn4tBiN8ZBYGslZw7Fe5IOONNRZg84Rxj9GOa73GDFXKQ6Vx_racqTbt/s640/New+prop.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A new larger prop means NB Valerie is ready to handle both canals and rivers with ease. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrlpyR_k_QcnhtbalrGVwkf968E54_dsoH1oppW7Sgm7xlmXxPOjWL9p74zJkHR52liX6xnGPbDmJCvQToRtPOabZsHJicIUXYcOArl5YJs0o6N-zEE2UTIrOdD5HW2gK53cx/s1600/20161208_141801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrlpyR_k_QcnhtbalrGVwkf968E54_dsoH1oppW7Sgm7xlmXxPOjWL9p74zJkHR52liX6xnGPbDmJCvQToRtPOabZsHJicIUXYcOArl5YJs0o6N-zEE2UTIrOdD5HW2gK53cx/s640/20161208_141801.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Freshly blacked in January 2017 with brand new sacrificial anodes (4). NBV does have a galvanic isolater. </span></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iab43mcN92lIuJyTWWEsbHsWYFL41YnNtLyjKPCbxgYkaUcf4ZA5qxpLJuX0w_LmRzKuf9cEvCsqDZGDIpnk9m8YWgK4u5_RANTQTHpTQyAklIuFtw5ZCGDI1U7PvKQrOzok/s1600/20161208_143120%25280%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iab43mcN92lIuJyTWWEsbHsWYFL41YnNtLyjKPCbxgYkaUcf4ZA5qxpLJuX0w_LmRzKuf9cEvCsqDZGDIpnk9m8YWgK4u5_RANTQTHpTQyAklIuFtw5ZCGDI1U7PvKQrOzok/s640/20161208_143120%25280%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shot of my bike on the newly installed bike rack, January 2017.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_Gm5ehNV5rrE3V5nziv1O-67UdXTnvTlg4VInOnpVyYMfhsE8VKCgrUqROxjDIIrbM0mN7ehGOR_YIQMR37eVMKlG_6AqTx9HfhtTzFHgXrT9y_24nzap_UQ981ERS2GAO07/s1600/20161208_143338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_Gm5ehNV5rrE3V5nziv1O-67UdXTnvTlg4VInOnpVyYMfhsE8VKCgrUqROxjDIIrbM0mN7ehGOR_YIQMR37eVMKlG_6AqTx9HfhtTzFHgXrT9y_24nzap_UQ981ERS2GAO07/s640/20161208_143338.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We had two additional T Studs mounted on either side of the bow to make it easier for short people like me to moor up. I never could reach the T stud out on the point of the bow!</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qmmRwCJY96SDwTkDivCoPipuicfBMwqaKmpdG9mnKDR7FM4kgB7Clz_xc0RLv1T3eEpDUMGoFq_I8URcAgtBn4z3PXxd8hs_FCmSlMhxUnjRK6aSbgLC4LQx1RHmRhFpqH45/s1600/DSCF5264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qmmRwCJY96SDwTkDivCoPipuicfBMwqaKmpdG9mnKDR7FM4kgB7Clz_xc0RLv1T3eEpDUMGoFq_I8URcAgtBn4z3PXxd8hs_FCmSlMhxUnjRK6aSbgLC4LQx1RHmRhFpqH45/s640/DSCF5264.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">All mooring ropes, fenders, and fender ropes were replaced in August 2017 and I added mooring cleats to the fender ropes to make it quick and easy to adjust the fenders when mooring up. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JlzgtQTNjquLiIa2-YbGIyag7nxDvIq_c4OcoyP_0aSEwQVHyLfeZBRoWGdBuVhvy9HrGwPJHwnhfL8MDqXzNqH82qnpE9mDr6JRSJDcSnqcU9miOmpVG1QYISaMaHPUcG3Y/s1600/IMG_7750+%2528800x600%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JlzgtQTNjquLiIa2-YbGIyag7nxDvIq_c4OcoyP_0aSEwQVHyLfeZBRoWGdBuVhvy9HrGwPJHwnhfL8MDqXzNqH82qnpE9mDr6JRSJDcSnqcU9miOmpVG1QYISaMaHPUcG3Y/s640/IMG_7750+%2528800x600%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking towards the bow from the chairs in the Saloon. The TV has been replaced with a new 22 inch HD telly with built in DVD player and Freeview. the stereo has been replaced with a new Pioneer stereo. Les built new stairs for my short legs with storage underneath each step, a larger, longer hearth with new tiling so live coals would no longer fall on the floor. There is storage under the hearth for the coal bucket and two spacious closets on the left for shoes, boots, cans of paint, axes, coats, grocery trolley, and outdoor sun umbrella!</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH1lwT8P4YtwHAaoqcJHAzMlBZ0JC2ULTFUGdVk3-BsJMPZZUjoJzOU7dW9qtuchtlJoOuIrh7wojuvVyZtZSl_TZAiE0dEFof7xyKMKuHkibo2A41j_OXD7oSwCa-y8RYKmt/s1600/Les%2527+man+drawer+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH1lwT8P4YtwHAaoqcJHAzMlBZ0JC2ULTFUGdVk3-BsJMPZZUjoJzOU7dW9qtuchtlJoOuIrh7wojuvVyZtZSl_TZAiE0dEFof7xyKMKuHkibo2A41j_OXD7oSwCa-y8RYKmt/s640/Les%2527+man+drawer+1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It took me four months to design this closet with built in man drawers and it took Les three days to build it! All the tools in the picture stay with the boat. </span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfnvDGOXDWgd1LkrFmLlJ3ApKd6IOxLGMWY7MfjIekq38T8JEjWeRfpTnQp7c8V0wN0cp3rdMRSQCR-JHJCrRJfvNdS7onRsVXWPwh_jIGCbVBS76ctgdMDJApLMyD6E5fcFm/s1600/Les%2527+man+drawer+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfnvDGOXDWgd1LkrFmLlJ3ApKd6IOxLGMWY7MfjIekq38T8JEjWeRfpTnQp7c8V0wN0cp3rdMRSQCR-JHJCrRJfvNdS7onRsVXWPwh_jIGCbVBS76ctgdMDJApLMyD6E5fcFm/s640/Les%2527+man+drawer+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfbxK6ii1mxPUhHfiqKg97eZnC1F75NiB2NV7Sy7Nd7KoPsH7CmlfnQV0ButZXJVKF3pgaCCdJ_J2emMAMTr6YorfyITCM0VZgfvHsdEK_PXMLuAl20MVHj94OpPUzjcIwE5e/s1600/DSCF5313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfbxK6ii1mxPUhHfiqKg97eZnC1F75NiB2NV7Sy7Nd7KoPsH7CmlfnQV0ButZXJVKF3pgaCCdJ_J2emMAMTr6YorfyITCM0VZgfvHsdEK_PXMLuAl20MVHj94OpPUzjcIwE5e/s640/DSCF5313.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A close up view of the new Solar panels installed August 2017. This set up makes it easy to clean and paint underneath and the panels clear the mushrooms vents tilted in either direction. In summer you can go for days without starting the engine. On a sunny day you can turn on the inverter and wash clothes on sunshine without touching the battery charge! In winter you can leave her moored up on the towpath for a few days and come back to find fully charged batteries and an engine that turns over on a dime. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizscCA3pu75GP8DlLyu-FyApAl2id53dGY3GG-nm6QuLVXp3YtxOwTEbymj2bpGUq6SWiXjtTXLqg5d8xWRtjw1WIGMX_eSaOms1IN_S2KNEwJDEs3XwSHTcPCNbGfxi8fwWeO/s1600/DSCF5323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizscCA3pu75GP8DlLyu-FyApAl2id53dGY3GG-nm6QuLVXp3YtxOwTEbymj2bpGUq6SWiXjtTXLqg5d8xWRtjw1WIGMX_eSaOms1IN_S2KNEwJDEs3XwSHTcPCNbGfxi8fwWeO/s640/DSCF5323.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">20 inch thick firm Memory Foam mattress with Cool Blue technology. It is the most comfortable mattress I've ever slept on. It is in pristine condition. It measures 6 foot by 4'6" wide.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2JhGcGKcR4q9VQdLUdNOuD4YVSvQaH09FsUAO7ZCQav7OAut_bHnh8owN-kxy_WWpnmcHASK-LG2Nbpu-dIUILr-ySFASaeTX4bGEJlYZvq6gwK2xi4D16XSYyAI0DgWFENu/s1600/the+cabin+%2528800x600%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2JhGcGKcR4q9VQdLUdNOuD4YVSvQaH09FsUAO7ZCQav7OAut_bHnh8owN-kxy_WWpnmcHASK-LG2Nbpu-dIUILr-ySFASaeTX4bGEJlYZvq6gwK2xi4D16XSYyAI0DgWFENu/s640/the+cabin+%2528800x600%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bed all made up, looking from the cabin down the hall past the bathroom and into the galley. The bed has been modified to pull out into a 6 foot by 6 foot cross-bed. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKywJ4B0DoGDv9LDbpy6_Om_qjdlANpXWS2l0GFyxFKBBoPCIO01jpM1tCG4AGY5j3-ydyDYeqHb69bkFCaz9bA3hD41osh0LIFKfv1rdMIUM0zyfvFbS-XahTMKO0P73UXuU8/s1600/IMG_9867+%2528800x600%2529+%2528780x574%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="780" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKywJ4B0DoGDv9LDbpy6_Om_qjdlANpXWS2l0GFyxFKBBoPCIO01jpM1tCG4AGY5j3-ydyDYeqHb69bkFCaz9bA3hD41osh0LIFKfv1rdMIUM0zyfvFbS-XahTMKO0P73UXuU8/s640/IMG_9867+%2528800x600%2529+%2528780x574%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Standing by the dinette and looking into the galley. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvvGrWJxdaJCkIwBnU0TVjsAJtonICYvma-9LjLHSjYo8IpjnTu5b01Q9AhSANg1gFCAq9qaaB6WJ8tK7IMdeLtSXpV8uRNMyDoSISyzAQ5nW8C9Z2h-dY8ffxO_J_pFu3yCh/s1600/Airhead+Marine+composting+Loo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="990" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvvGrWJxdaJCkIwBnU0TVjsAJtonICYvma-9LjLHSjYo8IpjnTu5b01Q9AhSANg1gFCAq9qaaB6WJ8tK7IMdeLtSXpV8uRNMyDoSISyzAQ5nW8C9Z2h-dY8ffxO_J_pFu3yCh/s640/Airhead+Marine+composting+Loo.JPG" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Airhead Marine Composting toilet! Freedom forever from Elsan and pump outs forever! If you prefer to use the chemical toilet stored in the engine bay, it will take you less than five minutes to unscrew two wing nuts that bolt the composting loo to the floor and lift it out of the bathroom. The chemical toilet will simply sit in its place and require emptying at an Elsan disposal once a week. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L0BY52IotfJXePBF-lTSRZaO5bIw-gokHulkaInZuBap41Oq7StTIp6G3fkBqL86N1nKQmKRH5TGUtJV5ARJzFaGNPZbOEzzqF-fDpkMRItfVTyxKH_phSNrIVsxFUAxBSCY/s1600/inside+the+medicine+cabinet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L0BY52IotfJXePBF-lTSRZaO5bIw-gokHulkaInZuBap41Oq7StTIp6G3fkBqL86N1nKQmKRH5TGUtJV5ARJzFaGNPZbOEzzqF-fDpkMRItfVTyxKH_phSNrIVsxFUAxBSCY/s640/inside+the+medicine+cabinet.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Interior of the roomy medicine cabinet in the bathroom. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-F1_j5d00dJwZ2cuP70_8x88xntsCLKgX7Kz_o-ses7harwwWsYx7mJIRR29bLhra-ls5pU_RFShXcOaObxqydMSKd3_9Mk4t2jk4FG6ZnIEFZf7zmERJOE0EYmuiTlPKAqkZ/s1600/the+bath+rug+and+bath+mat+.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="314" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-F1_j5d00dJwZ2cuP70_8x88xntsCLKgX7Kz_o-ses7harwwWsYx7mJIRR29bLhra-ls5pU_RFShXcOaObxqydMSKd3_9Mk4t2jk4FG6ZnIEFZf7zmERJOE0EYmuiTlPKAqkZ/s640/the+bath+rug+and+bath+mat+.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shower/hip bath combination. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AMzOKM-IVf7NmjgNFIZqwUlkOYdATpqDOTDsjSc0FEKBDcTNhCoqmQdquNu-hYpANimyHbyTmhPLygRbceWhVg3qlFVW_bua5d6WGfZYz0UY3HPeBv9lEvCbF-egTP7_m6zz/s1600/Cannon+home+range+cooker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="598" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AMzOKM-IVf7NmjgNFIZqwUlkOYdATpqDOTDsjSc0FEKBDcTNhCoqmQdquNu-hYpANimyHbyTmhPLygRbceWhVg3qlFVW_bua5d6WGfZYz0UY3HPeBv9lEvCbF-egTP7_m6zz/s640/Cannon+home+range+cooker.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lovely Cannon home cooker range. Brilliant and handles anything you can imagine cooking, baking or grilling.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53Ec8IEzadcWKmFzs_tYR5DF4w9F_PEad8YFrD2C9zHDiwotnaNbLYBAqBDyRGzrgn2o0MvTO_lrRo1orj2ZrVswHDmBvK0egxKe1K7XIZnKsduf-gBeA4rfYR4vMi5fk_lkX/s1600/washing+machine+below+the+refiridge.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53Ec8IEzadcWKmFzs_tYR5DF4w9F_PEad8YFrD2C9zHDiwotnaNbLYBAqBDyRGzrgn2o0MvTO_lrRo1orj2ZrVswHDmBvK0egxKe1K7XIZnKsduf-gBeA4rfYR4vMi5fk_lkX/s640/washing+machine+below+the+refiridge.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Close up of Shoreline 12 Volt Freezer/fridge on top of the counter! No more squatting down a half dozen times a day or lying on your belly in order to see what is in the fridge! The Candy washing machine is mounted below it and connected directly into the boat's hot and cold water system with knobs to turn to change from one to the other. This decreases the load on the inverter and batteries from 3200 watts to 2600 watts on starting. </span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zV6wPWGAlQKyB4b5ZzusbOCk5hyphenhyphen0Kw_lZAJOER4sX9NgIvuIbkSBF1f5sr6NovV0Dd_fmxq0GuNMzKEu0lSBIDljA9696Zcjhj8xrpU-WTYcmhOQbSgcgGvecFZc_EiMGZbR/s1600/inside+the+galley+dish+cupoard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zV6wPWGAlQKyB4b5ZzusbOCk5hyphenhyphen0Kw_lZAJOER4sX9NgIvuIbkSBF1f5sr6NovV0Dd_fmxq0GuNMzKEu0lSBIDljA9696Zcjhj8xrpU-WTYcmhOQbSgcgGvecFZc_EiMGZbR/s640/inside+the+galley+dish+cupoard.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Rz6bL92PwJi9ch5-CelB8nlWBpdM-8Q1ZBfQ0huPGUWcGbXlM55AehrOCau57TcWrmYimeg5MunL0hcdpsSXEIuEFlMAR408mTYl7p1Vpy7lyWpSAQK7_BjQJ4wT5-D940v/s1600/bottom+dish+cupboard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Rz6bL92PwJi9ch5-CelB8nlWBpdM-8Q1ZBfQ0huPGUWcGbXlM55AehrOCau57TcWrmYimeg5MunL0hcdpsSXEIuEFlMAR408mTYl7p1Vpy7lyWpSAQK7_BjQJ4wT5-D940v/s640/bottom+dish+cupboard.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Top and bottom of dish and glassware cupboard Les built which is amazingly streamlined. Dish and glassware stay with the boat. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTP7XRAcmpckVSXqcEKUqW1VQGeylytE2f-lW5yZgeXYVeomoSilwG91BdojDKJngNAEaZ612-CSxm8CZWBU1_-cne9k7kQpqONbOZa1rhMT69Ktj1Z056glTZ8s2zdngr6E1/s1600/inside+condiment+cabinet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTP7XRAcmpckVSXqcEKUqW1VQGeylytE2f-lW5yZgeXYVeomoSilwG91BdojDKJngNAEaZ612-CSxm8CZWBU1_-cne9k7kQpqONbOZa1rhMT69Ktj1Z056glTZ8s2zdngr6E1/s640/inside+condiment+cabinet.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Condiments cupboard at the end of the counter on the cooker side of the galley. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0IshBO4xFzwhevyMcA_FWCsfoRcBFtELFuN43UI_Nc0qY-DkBYP7CVhYvWntWKElRMBrlP7g5vNrX7b4fIMC_YNvEWo9LzQNQaaQynhz4cAWZ7m0A0b0PnqZRPR14PnDXmiO/s1600/cushions+three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="770" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0IshBO4xFzwhevyMcA_FWCsfoRcBFtELFuN43UI_Nc0qY-DkBYP7CVhYvWntWKElRMBrlP7g5vNrX7b4fIMC_YNvEWo9LzQNQaaQynhz4cAWZ7m0A0b0PnqZRPR14PnDXmiO/s640/cushions+three.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The dinette folds down to a double bed. There are two large drawers underneath the near seat and the farther seat lifts up for storage underneath. The computer charging station is hidden behind those pillows nearest to us. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapR0Ob1C9vKlxsPu8oJm_BpIQQHFRjDsSGBYXRfrVHzUeDvYTT5JW-L2Gn6WPGFuvY0y26Nek4d54T0oTULokCnT9oz0XiuM5QLxO-qYcpBqgOHbob-os67tGu3hgNqqLJpU7/s1600/Computer+Charging+Station.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="725" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapR0Ob1C9vKlxsPu8oJm_BpIQQHFRjDsSGBYXRfrVHzUeDvYTT5JW-L2Gn6WPGFuvY0y26Nek4d54T0oTULokCnT9oz0XiuM5QLxO-qYcpBqgOHbob-os67tGu3hgNqqLJpU7/s640/Computer+Charging+Station.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This hidden charging station will charge two computers simultaneously. </span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtulDy85kdBcni0mfMwjLj2gOCZAoT0YFtSYtAnRLYh1QKjgt8mod1UeLf_8vH8_L9dzZXcFGlBWXDy9Ssp1iZHLrVGeKXP2kjK4zFiGbBaFoYrWNZZsdXo7yIKghwMret8WM/s1600/10208026309392160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="749" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtulDy85kdBcni0mfMwjLj2gOCZAoT0YFtSYtAnRLYh1QKjgt8mod1UeLf_8vH8_L9dzZXcFGlBWXDy9Ssp1iZHLrVGeKXP2kjK4zFiGbBaFoYrWNZZsdXo7yIKghwMret8WM/s640/10208026309392160.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
I realize this post might appear to be an abrupt about face in contrast to my previous post titled Never Give Up but I assure you it is rather a continuance of the idea. It has been a very tough two years since my Best Beloved Les died. I had to try life on my own on our boat and give it my best effort. Sadly there were fences, walls, and impediments I could not have foreseen waiting for me.<br />
In the States I never had trouble finding a job. I have a university degree, twenty five solid years of experience working with students, and excellent references. None of this has made any difference over here in Britain. I've looked for work for a year and the only work I could get was waitressing. Now I don't mind waitressing and I've done it before--when I was 19. But I am 61 now with health issues and a financial need to earn more than minimum wage so sadly it isn't going to work out for me.<br />
When I married Les and moved here I had two auto immune (AI) diseases: Sarcoidosis and Osteoarthritis. I managed the Sarcoidosis with supplements of melatonin shipped from the States since I could not get it here without a prescription and even then no one would prescribe enough to actually stop Sarcoidosis from progressing. When Les' cancer began to travel and we had to spend hundreds of pounds every month on supplements to fight it, I quietly stopped taking Melatonin as the cost for shipping it from America was ridiculously high and I never told Les. Sarcoidosis has now made my lung tissue brittle and it is harder to breathe. Now I've developed Crohn's disease and all three diseases are adversely impacting each other. They are incurable, chronic, and progressive. The arthritis in the first digits of my index and middle finger on my right hand now make it very difficult and painful to pull on socks, pull up trousers, tie shoes and mooring ropes.<br />
My children have been worried that I might fall ill over here and end up in a care home and they would not be able to get me back To the States, near them, so it is time to close this chapter of life, square my shoulders, turn and step forward to rebuild my life anew once more back in the States. I love this boat. It has been my home for over seven years. She brought Les and I together, and his heart and soul is in every bit of her. She was Les' "other" baby. She deserves a new owner who will tart her up and make her shine with love and joy; in return she will give many decades of comfort, security, and freedom to the right buyer.<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-85953626653322763312018-11-16T12:50:00.001+00:002018-11-16T13:07:21.059+00:00Never Give Up!!<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #351c75;"><i>"Flutter your wings frail bird</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #351c75;"><i>And rise an inch above the impossible." ~Anonymous Haiku</i></span></b></div>
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Gosh a lot has happened in the last few weeks! I began moored in Nantwich for two days and was treated to a visit by my lovely friend Susanne King. her boat is at Aqueduct marina. Sadly Susanne's husband Peter died just over two months ago in a hospice in Winsford. We connected because I started a closed group called Widows on the Cut, for women on boats who have lost a partner, spouse or significant other and need a safe, confidential place to share their their feelings and emotions and know they will receive compassion, loving kindness, and understanding from other women literally in life's same boat. Susanne is Danish, Peter was Welsh and they lived half the year in Kenya and spent the summers on their boat cruising the British canals. Meeting Susanne has been a blessing for me, as I can speak candidly about my grief with her and know she gets it--because like me, she is in it. We had a lovely lunch aboard NB Valerie and her presence brightened my day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3YbKBgFosRjx7JmjnT2eFQ6p1UpkNd32XrLsJkoJw29JrXlNsTMKwYVnN8WlNzce3Fkf_Chku1FJo8eBpxdiGjnQhVSE_mpdW5cKtixBJg8LGOwFx4dZzYGo_A9chWCs2rhu/s1600/Susann+King.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="1600" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3YbKBgFosRjx7JmjnT2eFQ6p1UpkNd32XrLsJkoJw29JrXlNsTMKwYVnN8WlNzce3Fkf_Chku1FJo8eBpxdiGjnQhVSE_mpdW5cKtixBJg8LGOwFx4dZzYGo_A9chWCs2rhu/s400/Susann+King.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Susanne King</span></td></tr>
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I cruised back out to Hurleston and the weather deteriorated. First it was blustery winds and warm rain--decidedly a departure from usual late October weather. The shortened days, the lack of sun, and the depressing fact that November was one week away and I would hit the one year mark of looking work--unsuccessfully--made me feel suicidally depressed. I just wanted to give up and throw in the towel or more accurately get pissed and throw myself in the canal.<br />
But then a series of things occurred: a group of women came by in a flotilla of canoes. It was lashing with rain, and the wind was forming waves on the canal and yet here were these intrepid young women refusing to let the crap weather keep them from learning to row a canoe and enjoy nature--in all her vicarious moods!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxC8vWNwnD_WuzzQkBh-lJtxBRj1kGds-gl2zPVZ65bhTBkYrT2eAJ2SvT-dd-OhpEQYCveyr-N6SWUySSzuq_AtukCkgSkn7iFBbFRWLnAusBgUiBoCQ7BlvUtOm8WOEpG1j/s1600/DSCF6650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxC8vWNwnD_WuzzQkBh-lJtxBRj1kGds-gl2zPVZ65bhTBkYrT2eAJ2SvT-dd-OhpEQYCveyr-N6SWUySSzuq_AtukCkgSkn7iFBbFRWLnAusBgUiBoCQ7BlvUtOm8WOEpG1j/s640/DSCF6650.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Women out canoing in the rain!! Brits don't let the weather interfere with fun--much like Alaskans that way!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcr2myu5zGZm5iNiBVEdXhn0IEBcPrjiZ1p1RWCb8LqdrHzpMP5LRZnvxYdHG4o7-PES1KhL7gGpg5c8qoIJL1dGgliYnWIgZxtdtemRn0efNhGG0lmY8ckZSV2919IUrTORm/s640/DSCF6652.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It really was chucking it down!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcDJYHvzvCDn5VJ1NKvWOuBKsNG_4jUJzxFGsEpexa9WSEIduoCPI4cOWeDpL0tLoPb5K7K3rWXGbISGRK9-9KmuBDh4QekfgPhj2y9Nn19jcu8WUVWCc9sYHqzQ16A_YQss5/s640/DSCF6656.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The same stretch later on after the rain cleared off. </span></td></tr>
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Next a package arrived for me at The Laundrette. It was from the <b><a href="https://www.heckfood.co.uk/" target="_blank">Heck Sausage Company</a></b> in Yorkshire. I had purchased a package of Heck brand Smoky Paprika Chicken Sausages. I love heck brand sausages because they contain no rusk, use fresh herbs and spices, and are 98% meat--like U.S. sausages. I was thrilled to my boots to find a chicken sausage that I thought might be close to my beloved Spanish Chorizo sausage that I use in Three Sisters Chicken and Chorizo Casserole and in my homemade Minestrone soup.<br />
I bought <b><a href="https://www.aidells.com/products" target="_blank">Aidell's</a></b> chicken Sausages from Costco back in Washington State and loved them so I was very excited. Sadly the Heck chicken sausages were not for me. They were low fat and consequently the texture was more like plastic then juicy, flavorful sausage. When I ordered groceries again I took the opportunity to leave a less than favorable comment about the product based on its texture, on the Ocado web site. Apparently the store passed my comment on to Heck and I received a lovely email from a woman named Claudia who works for Heck and was sad to read my review. She wanted to send me a check for a refund! It was only £3.00 but what customer service!!<br />
Instead of an envelope with a check I received a package with a hand written letter from Claudia, a refund check for £3.00 and a lovely apron! I have since tried Heck's full fat chicken sausages and they are delicious, and of course their pork sausages are divine. Sadly I can no longer digest Pork or Beef so I cannot enjoy them, but I encourage everyone else to give Heck brand sausages a try.<br />
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The weather now took a cold and typically Autumnal turn with ground frost and nightly temperatures plummeting to -1/28F. No more going outside to start the engine withhold a coat, hat and gloves! Time to pack away the summer clothes and fill the wardrobe with winter wear, including my favorite cold weather trousers from <b><a href="https://www.duluthtrading.com/women/" target="_blank">Duluth Trading Company </a></b>in the USA, made of fire hose canvas. They are thick, tough as old boots and more comfortable than jeans, with pockets for knee pads, a loop for a hammer or a windlass, and lots of pockets and a back waist that rises to close the gap between shirt and pants. Their clothes are made for people who work outdoors and need tough, lasting and essentially comfortable gear.<br />
I love sweater weather!! Mine are washed, dried, de-pilled and folded on the shelf along with thick sweatshirts and long sleeve turtle neck tops. My black down coat and Les' green down jacket are back in service again; I wear my coat to town and Les' jacket for cruising and boat chores.<br />
October 31st arrived and for me as a Witch it is Samhain and a sacred day. It is our day of remembrance of our beloved dead, and it is New Year's Eve. We believe the veil between the world of the living and the dead is thinnest on certain days and nights of the year and this was one of them. We build altars in memory of beloved dead, engage in ritual to allow their spirits space to return and visit if they so choose and usually we have a meal of their favorite foods and set a place at table in their memory.<br />
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Since I was on my own my ritual was very low key, but I felt Les' presence. The hairs went up on the back of my neck at one point, and I felt surrounded by power and love. Spent with emotion, I turned in about 11 p.m. My phone woke me at 12:30 a.m. with a ping telling me I had a text message! Someone had logged in to<a href="https://tutorful.co.uk/" target="_blank"> <b>Tutorful,</b></a> the tutor web site I am listed with, and was requesting me to tutor them! I answered the next morning and we agreed to meet at <b><a href="http://nantwichbooks.tbpcontrol.co.uk/tbp.direct/customeraccesscontrol/home.aspx?d=nantwichbooks&s=C&r=10000149&ui=0&bc=0" target="_blank">Nantwich Bookshop and Coffee Cafe</a></b> near the village green.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the 435 year old building in which I work!</span></td></tr>
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We had a good first meeting, discussing my student's goals and objectives. As we were parting by the bookshop counter I spotted the manager Denise. She has sent me an email three or four weeks previously asking if I wanted them to hold on to my CV. They were in the process of reorganizing things and weren't hiring--yet. so of course I emailed back, "Yes please! I would love to work at the book shop. It appears to be the warm heart of the village green and everyone on staff seems very kind." Now that we were face-to-face I queried,<br />
"Are you Denise?"<br />
"Yes I am," she said with a bright smile.<br />
"Well then you also know who I am!"<br />
"Yes I do. It is good to see you and in fact I wondered if you were still looking for work?"<br />
"Yes I am."<br />
"Could you come in some time later this week and work for a couple of hours in trial so we can see how you handle things?"<br />
"I would love to. What about Wednesday?"<br />
"That would be perfect, " Denise replied as she flipped through her wall calendar and wrote my name down.<br />
The upshot is that I went in for a trial and worked for six hours. At this cafe everyone is trained to do everything: pot washing, plating up orders, barrista, waiting tables, and cashiering. That way anyone on the clock can be slotted in wherever they are needed most. Tips are divided equally between all the staff as well so it means we are a cohesive team working together to provide good customer service no matter what we do--even washing dishes. So now I am finally employed, albeit part time which is a good thing at the mo as I have not worked a physical job on my feet for six hours since I was nineteen! I've had desk jobs since my university days.<br />
I stopped in to Marks & Spencer for a Saturday paper (they a re located right next to the bus station and library and it is easier to nip in there for a paper then walk all the way over to Morrisons for one) and I was chatting with the grocery clerk. Her face lit up when I said I lived on a narrow boat.<br />
"Oh we just bought ours and she is going into the water tomorrow at Aqueduct Marina. My husband and I are gong to live on her and we are so excited!" Her name is Linda and her boat is <b>NB Water Colour</b> so if you see them about give her a big, friendly wave.<br />
After eight days at Hurleston, preparing for winter and putting draft plastic on the windows, I cruised back in to Nantwich in time for the winter mooring times to begin, filled with water, dumped the rubbish and moored up near the ramp by the stairs down to the Welsh Lane. The cold weather disappeared and warm, balmy weather swept in from the southwest! How warm you say??<br />
So warm I had to let the fire go out in the boat! So warm I had to switch back to my rain jacket! So there you have it!! me and Ma Nature are both very mixed up about the weather these days. One morning recently I was out walking my rubbish to the bin back at the service point and everywhere I looked boaters were popping in and out of hatches and engine bays. Nothing like surprise helping of warm, sunny weather to get those last minute boat chores completed. An elderly gent was standing on the towpath, tobacco pipe in hand looking at his boat <b>NB Solitude</b>. We got to chatting and before you know it we had exchanged histories, names, and opinions of some of the trials of the world. We even got round to loos!! His name is Roy and his wife is Carol. She was out that morning, but I look forward to meeting her.<br />
After dropping my rubbish in the Biffa bins I decided to stroll down to the Canal Centre and share my good employment news with several women there whom I know. Margaret and Lynda who work in the Chandlers were both out that day. I sauntered around the corner to the Convenience Shop and nipped in to say hi To Sharon, the new owner.<br />
If you haven't been in there, please make sure you stop in when you come through Nantwich and stop to fill up with water, dump your rubbish or empty your Elsan and say hello To Sharon. If you just need to replenish some tinned goods, fresh veg, milk, bread, eggs, and maybe some frozen food between large shops then you will everything you need. It will save you making the one and a half mile round trip walk into town. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sharon knitting as she waits for customers. She didn't realize I was taking her picture. Drop in and say hello to see her thousand watt welcoming smile!</span></td></tr>
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Sharon's daughter owns The Laundrette there in the Centre, That's where I get my mail. Since Sharon took over the Canal shop it is ever so much cleaner, far more organized and has a really solid stock of the kind of things boaters are using. She even carries lactose free milk! Being a knitter, Sharon has yarns and collectibles for sale in her shop as well. This is one more canal side shop we should support so at the very least pop in and grab a candy bar!! You won't regret it. <div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-25980370931137120932018-10-26T11:00:00.000+00:002018-10-26T11:00:25.567+00:00Seeking Clients!!!<b><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">Let the Beauty of what you love be what you do. ~ Rumi, 13th century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic originally from Greater Khorasan; 1207-1273. </span></i></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am a medicinal herbalist and I have openings for clients right now. If you have a chronic illness or health issue and you would like some research undertaken about what, if any alternative medicine or treatments may work for you then please email me at biggsbiglove@hushmail.com. I charge £25/$35 (difference in price is the exchange rate) for an initial consultation, research, and health profile with one six week post consultation check in.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am also registered on </span><b style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://tutorful.co.uk/" target="_blank">Tutorful</a></b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> which is a legitimate academic web site offering tutors for a wide range of academic services. If you or anyone you may know seeks tutoring to improve their written communication skills I am available. </span>You<span style="font-family: inherit;"> can read my profile on the site. I also tutor those in need of conversational English language skills. I can connect with students on-line in the </span>Tutorful<span style="font-family: inherit;"> website where meetings may be booked and payment is arranged or in person if you live in the </span>Nantwich<span style="font-family: inherit;">, Cheshire area. </span><div>
<span style="color: #767676; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I tutor the following subjects:<br /><br /><b><u>A Level and Degree:</u></b></span><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Conversational English Language Skills</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">English grammar and writing Skills<br />Essay Writing<br />Dissertation</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u>A Level: </u></b><br />English Literature<br />Humanities & Arts<br />Citizenship</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am also available as a manuscript editor. Just email me with your manuscript. I charge £25/$35 an hour. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11311723.post-47353068142892812762018-10-19T14:01:00.000+00:002018-10-19T14:01:39.077+00:00Life's Cherished Gifts<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;">"Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future but today is a gift. That's why its called the present." ~Bill Keane, American cartoonist, 1922-2011</span></i></b><br />
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It's been a busy two weeks here in my world. I've been writing every day with punctuations for a walk to stretch my body. I've cleaned out a ton of old paperwork, said goodbye to Les' three ring binder from the visiting nurses with all of their notes on the last six months of his care, and organized several drawers. I've also dug out file folders of family documents, pictures, and items I used to have pinned to my bulletin board at Cloudhouse. I bought a clear polyvinyl desk protector to lay on the dinette table and I slipped pictures and mementos underneath to help me with my writing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEwBSyLJV1vvTjGERqWne2hbsTpOTaRxY-f9OeYHwTD2j1b6YSYlw8i7MInWBGgayo2Sc2avo2TrR-OdmMGdfXJe4rdOsBuez5o2OzDsQyhUNYAEDniRwpP0Hn1ozErd8K6Uc/s1600/DSCF6629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEwBSyLJV1vvTjGERqWne2hbsTpOTaRxY-f9OeYHwTD2j1b6YSYlw8i7MInWBGgayo2Sc2avo2TrR-OdmMGdfXJe4rdOsBuez5o2OzDsQyhUNYAEDniRwpP0Hn1ozErd8K6Uc/s640/DSCF6629.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My new memorabilia collage which lives under a desk protector on the dinette table. Each item represents some aspect of the things I am writing about now in my book rough drafts. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My favorite oldest daughter Jesse, left with her favorite oldest son Micheal as a baby. The cartoon below is one I found over three decades ago and saved because it encapsulates my Jesse girl as a child in terms of her relationship with her sister. My favorite youngest daughter Sparky on the right as a teenager and far right a few years ago. Her cartoon also encapsulates a little of what she was like as a child too. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The card top left came with a dozen roses from Les the day my spouse visa was accepted. I've had the Pinups on Writing for over thirty years. The picture of Les was taken in 2011 and is one of my favorites of my Best Beloved. I bought the post card of the Bison and the bird when I was thirty. Many times I've reminded myself to be like the Bison: develop a tough hide and call on persistence while turning my back to the wind. Some days all one can do is stand knee deep in the snow and wait...for spring.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgc-fUXC-02CZVh04tdPZArqDpNewLNBh9p328wsApZEE4h39eJO_cuHUhZJjgIWfuTIkKcgWnbFYVaAgk-YSzBqz3CxxWY4rqIIWy1-iiZjRmtWSYdNUlTvjvhJNImKbRy8E/s1600/DSCF6638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1011" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgc-fUXC-02CZVh04tdPZArqDpNewLNBh9p328wsApZEE4h39eJO_cuHUhZJjgIWfuTIkKcgWnbFYVaAgk-YSzBqz3CxxWY4rqIIWy1-iiZjRmtWSYdNUlTvjvhJNImKbRy8E/s640/DSCF6638.JPG" width="404" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is one of my favorite poems, <i><b>The Bus of Questions.</b></i> It was written by my dear friend and member of The Wednesday Women, Lisa Conger. </span></td></tr>
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The other poem which I couldn't get a clean picture of, is one I found years ago somewhere and it is so evocative of my life I have held on to it as a reminder of where I came from and how far I've traveled.<br />
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<b>Autobiography in Five Short Chapters--Anon.</b></div>
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I</div>
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I walk down the street. </div>
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There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. </div>
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I pretend I don't see it. </div>
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I fall in.</div>
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I am lost...I am helpless.</div>
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It isn't my fault. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
II</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I walk down the same street. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I pretend I don't see it. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I fall in again. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can't believe I am in this same place.</div>
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But it isn't my fault. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It still takes a long time to get out.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
III</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I walk down the same street. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I see it is there. </div>
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I still fall in...it's a habit...but</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My eyes are open.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know where I am. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is my fault.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I get out immediately.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
IV</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I walk down the same street. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</div>
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I walk around it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
V</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I walk down another street.</div>
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A week ago Britain caught the tale end of the hurricane that ravaged the Southeast coast of America. Over here is was named Callum. As it swept in from the west, passing over North Wales and into the borders I hunkered down for three days and nights and wind gusts up to 65 mph. Moored at Hurleston Junction just before the bridge, I had a front row seat watching boats coming off the Llangollen canal and out of Hurleston bottom lock where they have to turn right and cruise through the bridge towards Nantwich and NBV, or turn left and head towards Barbridge, Calveley and Chester. While the canal is wide enough to comfortably turn a boat at the junction, the towpath curves around to the right and the winds sweep down the lock flight, pinning boats to the side. Even on a mildly windy day the winds swoop down the hill across from the moorings before the bridge. More than once I have helped boaters who come slowly through the bridge to pick up a partner who was working the locks, only to find their boat pinned to the side. I am grateful to Ken Deveson for showing me how to pin the boat using spring lines. What a difference this makes in a storm! Yes the boat did rock side to side with the wind generated waves but she stayed secure and didn't slide vertically back and forth. Passing boats had no choice but to give their engine some welly to keep the high winds from shoving them into moored boats, but the spring lines kept NB Val secure and stable. Below are two videos from the wind storm.<br />
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/6mXkFfIoZdE/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6mXkFfIoZdE?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/q1GDythVu0Y/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/q1GDythVu0Y?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
After the winds let up it was time to head back in to Nantwich. I had a leisurely cruise in lush and lovely afternoon sunshine. It took just under an hour to fill the 144 gallon water tank which was pretty low, dump the rubbish, and pick up three packages from the Laundrette. When I arrived at the Nantwich service point there was one boat moored on the 48 hour visitor moorings. I had hopes I might actually be able to moor up at the end of the moorings just up from the service point. By the time I finished filling up there were only two spaces left! Fifteen boats had come from both directions, quickly filling the empty mooring spots but I was lucky to get in where I wanted, just behind <b>NB Bessie Surtees</b>.<br />
We've passed each other throughout the past nine months, coming and going on the Middlewich arm and the Shroppie. She called to me once that she followed my blog so it was a pleasure to finally have an opportunity to stop and meet Phil and Barb and have a chin wag. They've been boating for years, and have lived aboard <b>NB Bessie Surtees </b>for four years now, cruising. Phil followed the blog from the beginning when Les first started it. Did I take a picture of them and their boat??? By the time I remembered the camera they had been to town and the chandlers and cruised off. Next time!!<br />
Yesterday my phone rang and Elsie Fletcher's lovely Welsh accent said, "Hi Jaq it's Elsie. We thought we would come for a visit this afternoon." Lovely!! It's always a treat to spend time with Elsie and Eric (<b>NB Bendigedig</b>). I cleaned up, popped a Betty Crocker gluten free Devil's Food Cake in the oven and finished putting together a Venison stew for dinner later. They came bearing flowers and cwtches (special Welsh hugs) and we spent several lovely hours setting the world to rights. Thank you Eric and Elsie for blessing me with your company.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7r_v1qArS-fTzSR9CZLU62YDpNz-g7sRLhWyPcRtWbZe97hmO_EG6KbINRzzBmOxOuf6cUxdHBxb_XLm9IGUfvzepSPeciyFKqInLXmOnatdHK_8x84KlALqF5Pl3vrTH7OX/s1600/Aloha+Island+Grill+Monroe.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="634" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7r_v1qArS-fTzSR9CZLU62YDpNz-g7sRLhWyPcRtWbZe97hmO_EG6KbINRzzBmOxOuf6cUxdHBxb_XLm9IGUfvzepSPeciyFKqInLXmOnatdHK_8x84KlALqF5Pl3vrTH7OX/s640/Aloha+Island+Grill+Monroe.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bijou Aloha Island Grill hut on Monroe Street in Spokane,Washington. There is just enough room inside for five people to stand and order at the counter. I've eaten many a Hawaiian plate lunch at the outside tables or in my car.</span></td></tr>
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I have been searching for recipes that are gluten free and still tasty. I find I still cannot fix most of the things I used to cook for Les. As everyone knows food is a potent means of stirring memories. I take no joy in cooking food for myself that Les and I enjoyed, without him here to share it, and most of those recipes need tweaking and substitutions to remove gluten, lactose, etc. For some reason I found myself thinking about one of my favorite Spokane take-aways from <b><a href="http://www.eataloha.com/Hawaiian-Dishes-Spokane-WA.html" target="_blank">Aloha Island Grill</a></b> on Monroe Street. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kGnVJxbsJ21eIDyo5dM_Cl957mqIMpKpiUlDiQTYLknLiaQLv-9LD9LUwC9t4e-PuQdsrSDb5pZs-aq8q8qXdtrVkh4d10zTmhKvimpOErIYQwgb5sqiW2hnIkrJ7veGmUWK/s1600/Hawaiian+plate+lunch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="607" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kGnVJxbsJ21eIDyo5dM_Cl957mqIMpKpiUlDiQTYLknLiaQLv-9LD9LUwC9t4e-PuQdsrSDb5pZs-aq8q8qXdtrVkh4d10zTmhKvimpOErIYQwgb5sqiW2hnIkrJ7veGmUWK/s640/Hawaiian+plate+lunch.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Their Hawaiian plate lunches of Teriyaki chicken, macaroni salad, and sticky rice with Katsu sauce is food for the weary soul. This set me on an Internet search for recipes that might be close and I am happy to say I've found several I am going to test out soon.<div>
The other cuisine that has grabbed me by the gut is Middle Eastern--I finally found a Tzaziki sauce recipe I like and I cannot get enough of Chicken Souvlaki in gluten free pita bread. I am also jonesing for (craving) Dolmathes which are stuffed grape leaves.</div>
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As a kid my parents hung out a couple they met through work. The Schei's had a daughter named Jeri who was close to my age and we hung out quite a bit. Her parents had been world travelers before settling in Anchorage and having children. They had ties to Egypt and Saudi Arabia and Lowell was a fabulous cook. I still remember everyone gathered around their table filling and rolling grape leaves. I wish I would've had the presence of mind to ask for some of his recipes but of course when one young, that isn't what is on one's mind. I've searched off and on for decades for a Dolmathe recipe close to Schei's and I've finally found one that I have adapted. I made a batch last week and they were so good! Now if I could just get Schei's recipe for salad dressing life would be darned near fabulous!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmtDhaFkbgYQ_J65_YO9YeZn2w1-AaO27bBh5cmmTxZlQjRbJ1_v5O69WSu1CJGQQlBhe3jVvD9FmvoqSxkvpjKYgDdq2BdwTzfkLQ92RSysfRTLieAbyrrhcui4s9FHR6U1z/s1600/DSCF6610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1500" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmtDhaFkbgYQ_J65_YO9YeZn2w1-AaO27bBh5cmmTxZlQjRbJ1_v5O69WSu1CJGQQlBhe3jVvD9FmvoqSxkvpjKYgDdq2BdwTzfkLQ92RSysfRTLieAbyrrhcui4s9FHR6U1z/s640/DSCF6610.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">These Dolmathes are stuffed with a mixture of rice, organic lamb mince, finely diced onion, finely diced fresh mint and parsley, ground cumin and dash of Tobasco sauce, fresh lemon zest, olive oil, salt & pepper. Layered in an enamel cast iron pan, six cloves of peeled garlic are tucked down in between the layers which are topped with tomato passata (tomato sauce), olive oil and water, then cooked for 40 minutes after which the juice from a fresh lemon is squeezed over the top. These little rolls of love are addictive!</span></td></tr>
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My cold nose woke me this morning at 4:40 am. The coals had gone out in the stove and the boat was COLD. I had planned to back up to the service point yesterday to top up the water tank but I woke to such thick fog and it didn't dissipate until noon, so I decided today was the day. At 8:00 am I started the engine, pulled the fenders up, folded down the TV antenna, slipped the tiller in place, untied the mooring lines and pushed NB Valerie out stern first, backing her up beyond the boat moored right behind me, past the permanent moored boats and over on to the service point landing. I topped up the tank, cleaned out the loo and the bathroom, dumped the rubbish, picked up the mail, and cruised slowly in the sunny chill of the morning wearing Les' green down Jacket for warmth.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuVH3LX6QsX_PAMx_ZrLVGAZ-YkFF1Ew1XHHIhD5aQWiGVEKgvuAvCuyQ0C83jUctIKN4vWf5u882KOK2Fg3_-STXhxdNz7m8veOYNpXto1fd9QgP1ZSjqX-bc0z8OHlcrbmP/s1600/DSCF6625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuVH3LX6QsX_PAMx_ZrLVGAZ-YkFF1Ew1XHHIhD5aQWiGVEKgvuAvCuyQ0C83jUctIKN4vWf5u882KOK2Fg3_-STXhxdNz7m8veOYNpXto1fd9QgP1ZSjqX-bc0z8OHlcrbmP/s640/DSCF6625.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yellow roses from Elsie and Eric Fletcher, pink flowers and the birthday card from Ken and Sue Deveson, and pictures of loved ones. On the far left is Jesse with her favorite oldest son (and my favorite oldest grandson) who is now nineteen!</span></td></tr>
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Moored up now by the playground at the other end of Nantwich, I have a grocery order sorted for delivery tomorrow. The rest of today is one of leisure as it is my 61st birthday. I splurged and bought three books to read: two are Man Booker award winners and one is a BBC 4 book of the week: <b><i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/231506/lincoln-in-the-bardo-by-george-saunders/9780812985405/" target="_blank">Lincoln in the Bardo</a></i></b> by George Saunders (2017 winner), <b><i><a href="https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/milkman-by-anna-burns-putting-ardoyne-on-the-literary-map-1.3664420" target="_blank">Milkman</a></i></b> by Anna Burns (2018 winner), and <b><i><a href="https://www.hodder.co.uk/books/detail.page?isbn=9781473659049" target="_blank">Golden Thread: How Fabric Changed History</a></i></b>. I am filled with a fine sense of satisfaction today as I completed all those chores and moored up again by 10 am, and I've received a lovely birthday card in the mail from friends, emails and e-cards from friends, and cell phone texts from friends and family. Today Life is good. xxx </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http:www.truelovefloats.blogspot.com/</div>Mrs. Jaqueline Biggshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14248541763708771727noreply@blogger.com19