OK--OH Canada part deux

So, the camera still doesn't want to down load my pictures, but I got a handy dandy compact flash reader that more or less does the same thing. Now I'm trying to get them into the blog--in no particular order.

Here are my hosts, Margaret and Ken Melsted, Ken wearing one of his 11 new Tilley Hats, courtesy of Lee. That was the actual purpose of the trip. Ken and Margaret were great hosts. they let me do as much or as little as I wanted to do. Mostly it was just laze around.

This is the farmhouse. Ken was born here.

Next, we move to some grain bins. There are lots of grain bins. It is a huge farm.

And just to prove there is some livestock, here is Ken with the horse. They also have breeding stock pure bread cattle--the bulls were hiding in the shed behind the horse. How many bulls do you see?

Last, but not least, this is the Provincial Flower of Saskatchewan, the Red or Prarrie Lilly. Margaret has two growing in her garden. With luck. the bulbs will multiply as the lilly is in danger if extinction.

I didn't have my camera out with me in Saskatoon--too bad, it was really pretty around the hotel and park where we saw The Tempest.

Orc report--so far, so good. Not even any drums beating yet. I don't hold out hope of a stay for more than another day, though.

xxooxx

Oh Canada!

Got up Friday morning at 4:15 to finish off last minute packing and have breakfast. Glenn, bless his heart, who got off work at midnight, got up around 5 to get me to the airport by 5:30. He went home to sleep some more. My flight to Vancouver was on time and proceeded without incident. We landed at Vancouver around 9:30. The plane to Saskatoon left at 3:55. I had LOTS of time. I'd arranged for wheelchairs at all the airports, so I was whisked through customs and taken to my departure gate. I found a not so comfy seat and settled in for a long wait. Three different flights left from that gate, so I saw many people come and go...no one was speaking of Michelangelo, however. I had lunch, then waited some more. The gate was filling up with passengers for a flight to Calgary. There was some sort of youth trip going on that flight, because there seemed to be about a million obstreperous boys with very few chaperones. There was an announcement of a gate change, so the whole crowd migrated from Gate B16 to B12. The noise level went down considerably. Stray people would wander up looking for the Calgary flight and I told them about the gate change. Ever the helpful Service Rep. While I was waiting, I finished working on the Yellowstone Falls cross-stitch. I was so excited I e-mailed Cherri Fulmer with the news. A mother and her two sons, five and seven, adorable and well behaved, came to the gate. Yippee, they were going to Saskatoon. Finally my flight was getting near. We looked at the display on the gate and it was announcing another flight to Calgary that left after ours was scheduled. Odd, we thought, so the mother went off to see if our gate had changed. By golly, yes, it had--we were scheduled to leave from gate E38--all the way across the airport. I knew I didn't have the stamina to make it, so I found an agent who got me transportation. We made it just before the plane started loading. My name was called and the gate agent asked if I would like a wheelchair ride out to the plane. Why yes, thank you. Oh and you are booked in seat 11A we can move you to 3F, that will be much closer for you. The flight attendant took all my hand luggage so that I could hold on with both hands on the few stairs up to the plane. She stowed my stuff and got me comfortable. Then the other passengers started boarding. The biggest, fattest, tallest man on board sat down in the seat next to me. Good thing it's a short flight, I thought. Then the wonderful flight attendant asked if he would be more comfortable in a seat by himself and reseated him. Whew!
The flight was fine until we got to Saskatoon, where it was storming, so we were a little bumpy coming in, but we landed safe and sound. I waited till everyone left, then once again, the FA helped me with my stuff and I was wheeled out. My friends Ken and Margaret were waiting for me--I'd worn the grey CP so that I would match my passport and they would recognize me.
We had dinner then made the two hour trip home to Wynyard. It had been a very long day.
Saturday after breakfast, I settled down to read and took a three hour nap. In the afternoon, I started working on the Old Faithful cross-stitch and did some knitting. We had a Chinese dinner then came home to watch end end of the Saskatchewan-Edmonton football game--Saskatchewan won, YEAH TEAM!
Sunday, we went into Saskatoon to see Cirque du Soleil. It was amazing. We were sitting in the third row. The colors were brilliant, the acrobatics breathtaking. There was supposed to be a story and there was some dialogue and singing, but it was all in French, so we had no clue. We didn't really need to know. Everything was spectacular and fast paced.
After the show, we went to Saskatoon's new First Nation casino so that I could get in a gamboling fix. I played for an hour or so, made some pennies, lost more pennies, and had a good time. Headed back home to Wynyard, stopping for a steak dinner on the way. Another long day.
Today has no plans, other than what I'm doing at the moment, and just hanging out. I'm feeling better, finally, heading into my good week. After the rain storm in Saskatoon on Friday, things have dried up and warmed up. It was downright hot yesterday and promises to be the same all week. I'll get some pictures of the farm and post them after I get home.
That's it for now.
xxooxx

Friends

I've hear people say that they have many acquaintances but few friends. I never understood that. I have few acquaintances but many friends. If I've met you, chances are I consider you my friend unless you prove to me otherwise. And if you are my friend, you are my friend for life. Some people don't realize until it is too late how many friends they really have. I am not one of them. I count my friends as blessings and they are beyond count.
When Lee got sick, or rather, progressively sicker, our friends gathered round like covered wagons circling and protecting us. When Lee died, I was enveloped and sustained on a cloud of friendship. I was making a new normal, always with friends at the ready to support me should I slip. I was doing OK. I was trying new things. Then--BAM--out of nowhere--well, not really nowhere, more like my pelvic cavity--came the word cancer. I've walked that road with other friends, lost many friends, but never expected to have it applied to me as anything other than my astrological sign. Even now, three and a half months later, I still sometimes say "I have WHAT?"
Ultimately, it is a journey I have to take alone. I'm the one getting the chemo, I'll be the one getting the radiation, I'm the one who lost the hair (and I'm the one who gets the fun of the CP's). I'm the one all this is happening to, but my friends would be under my skin experiencing it with me if it were possible. They check up on me, they pray for me, they nudge me when necessary, they let me know I am not alone in this lonely place. They let me weep and they dry my tears. There is no shame in weeping.
Even as a little girl (and yes, I really was a little girl at one time--sturdy, but a little girl all the same), I always had at least one really good friend. In Junior High School, that all changed. I had a group of friends. And now, almost a million years later, I still have most of that group. Kris, Roz, Annie, and I just about go back to the flood. Our lives have taken surprising twists. I don't imagine any of us are doing what we thought we would be doing back in the 9th grade when we were terrorizing Mr. Felker (he loved it), but we're still friends. Kris just happened to e-mail me just after I started my first tenure at Peninsula Hospital. Thanks to my Nokia 9300, I e-mailed her back. Next thing I knew, she had plane and hotel reservations and was up checking on me. When she walked into that hospital room, it was 1962 again. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. The next day, she hooked up with Roz and brought her over to visit. Annie called from Missouri. They are still calling and checking on me. They know when I'm down and when I need them. Roz is a poet and expresses herself in amazing ways. I'm just beginning to realize it. Kris wants her to publish--I do too. Dear friends, if you are reading this, I still love you with the passion of a 14-year-old and the experience of a 60-year old, and I hope we're still talking about Mabel's diamond when we are 100.
Last night, I had a visit from relatively new (for me) friends. Steve, from work, brought his dog, whose name is supposed to be Beau but I've called Furball from the first time I met him. Steve hired me when I thought I had no skills outside of knowing everything there was to know about telephone bills, and over almost six years now has come to be a special person in my life. I frequently remind him that I'm old enough to have been his babysitter (I wasn't but could have been). I've always been afraid of dogs to some degree or another, but Furball is just a big love bug. Furball knows when I'm down and makes me feel better. So thank you, Steve and Furball, for the visit and the friendship.
Now if I haven't named you specifically, it doesn't mean that you aren't still my friend and I don't love and care about you and don't consider you a vital part of the mosaic of my life. Here's the other thing about my friends. I don't let them go. No matter the distance or the time, I will remember you and care about you--possibly remember your birthday and your children and their birthdays--and count you as an important foundation of my life and a blessing beyond measure. If I haven't told you lately, I love you.