I'd like to share this one.
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It was a nice sunny day for the drive to Ottawa. Made it with no issues. But as I write this it is -20C and heading lower. Hope the van starts tomorrow.
We had a wonderful visit with the girls. Cards, dinner and then more cards.
At one point, teammates Barbara and Mardi both were trying for a canasta in aces instead of cooperating with one. When they noticed it Barbara made the profound statement "One of us did this". Jo-Ann started laughing, and when I asked "Are you sure?" she completely collapsed. In the picture below she has just finished drying her tears.
A typical night with my daughters. Full of laughs. A wonderful evening, the first in a too long a time.
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Mardi tells me that instead of talking about her all the time I should document some of my history for my grandkids (I think she wants them to have a better understanding of why I'm so screwed up). So here goes issue one, which I'm guessing none of my readers, and certainly not my grandkids will be able to relate to.
From age six, when my memories start, until age fifteen we did not have indoor plumbing. It was outhouse during the day and chamber pot at night.
When I was about 12, my dad built a garage onto the side of the house, and built an indoor outhouse there, with a pail that had to be emptied regularly. My job was to dig the holes in the backyard and empty the pail.
Dad died two months before my 15th birthday. His friends donated and installed the septic system for us shortly later. Given a choice of those two events, I would still gladly empty the pails.
Sorry. My future stories will hopefully get better! To be continued.......
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Stay well.
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