Service

This will probably sound like an old lady rant, but here goes anyway.  Whatever happened to customer service and taking responsibility?  Maybe we never had them as a society.

I used to work for a municipal government and occasionally I’d get phone calls (sometimes irate) from people who wanted to know something or get in contact with someone, but it wasn’t me and not my area of responsibility.  Rather than sending them on to another phone number (unless I knew definitely that it was the right contact) I’d say, “Give me your number, I’ll see what I can find out, and I’ll call you back.”  And then I’d do it to make sure they reached the person they needed to.

Recently I was trying to find a contact for seniors’ housing in the small town where my parents live.  They still live in their own home and are independent, but it’s getting a little much for them.  Internet, I thought; I’ll find out what I need to know that way.  So I contacted their Health Region via e-mail and received a fairly prompt reply saying that my request had been forwarded and giving me the name of the person and a phone number.  So far so good.

I waited for about a week and, not having heard anything, decided to follow up with a phone call.  The person I wanted wasn’t there, and the person who answered didn’t know anything except that it wasn’t the Health Region that looked after seniors’ housing.  She thought it might be Mortgage and Housing Corporation (she said it twice, so I know that’s what she said).

Well, that didn’t seem quite right to me, so I went back on line to the Government of Saskatchewan web site (which I’d checked before without finding anything definite).  I found Sask. Housing Corporation and finally found a brochure that gave me a 1-800 number.  When I called it an automated voice mail gave me another 1-800 number for my specific region.  That resulted in a real person who gave me a number in the town where my parents live.  I knew it was a number there because of the prefix.  When I called it, however, I reached the Credit Union there.  When I explained that I was trying to reach someone in regards to seniors housing they said, “Oh, you want so and so, she works in (the next town) and doesn’t like to be disturbed at work about this, but here’s here home phone number, call her in the evening.”

 Great I thought, and in the meantime I’ll phone Sask. Housing back and tell them the number they have is incorrect (so someone else won’t waste their time calling it).  When I phoned, I was very low key, said that I’d talked to someone and been given this number and it was the Credit Union and not the number I wanted.  I said that I thought they might want to know they didn’t have the correct number. The woman told me that the number had been given to them by the coordinator and they updated it last in June.  She obviously didn’t want to even acknowledge or even thank me for drawing this to their attention.  It just wasn’t her responsibility.  So I said again that it obviously wasn’t the right number and I just thought they might like to know and rang off.

Or maybe I just expect too much.

Routine

It sounds dull – doing the same boring things at the same time, so familiar you could practically do it in your sleep.  But I find routine useful: yoga in the morning when I get up, a long walk three times a week, regular times to vacuum and change the sheets.  A system of some kind makes sure the basic necessities for a smooth and healthy life get accomplished.

As long as my whole day is not one boring repetition of the same little chores, routine frees me up for more creative pursuits.  Which is not to say that creation doesn’t happen during the so-called mindless activities.  In fact, I often get great ideas when my body is engaged in some easy or repetitive action and my mind can wander where it will.  And of course, some kind of routine is absolutely necessary for creative work to reach its goal – a certain time each day to write or a certain number of pages to get done.

The reason I decided to re-examine my own routines is because I forgot to post my blog this Sunday as I usually do.  I like having a deadline for the blog and I generally think about what I’m going to write or post during the week.  On Sunday I got up just after 4 am so I could Skype Halifax.  I was up for a while, then went back to bed.  I got up late, did some of the usual things, repainted my front steps, finished a first draft of a fantasy novel and spent some time reading.  Then in the evening I watched TV – which I hadn’t done in a while.  It was quite a relaxing day and I enjoyed it.

This morning I realized I’d forgotten all about my blog.  Debate: do I skip it this week entirely?  Post something and pretend I posted it yesterday?  Or just write about breaking routine and how that’s important to do once in a while – by accident, on purpose, or spontaneously.

So here I am after having gone for a two hour walk a little while ago, sitting at my lap top.  It’s a hot day outside and lots of people were walking and biking the riverbank trail.  I stopped at the library, returned  a book and got a new one, bought a hot dog and lemonade at the red bus, crossed to Broadway and visited a couple of stores and then headed home.

I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with the rest of my day.  Freedom.

Attitude

Recently I was out visiting my parents.  Both of them are in their mid to late eighties and still living in their own home.  It’s not easy – they have physical problems such as arthritis, loss of sight and hearing, forgetfulness and, psychologically frustration.  My mother said to me (and she’s said it before), “Don’t get old.”  This time I responded a bit flippantly, I guess, “So I should die young?”

I know what she means to say of course: Life is not easy anymore, even getting up in the morning is a chore and she can’t do the things she used to love like work in the garden.  There was an issue about some paper work that they were both frustrated with and so I handled it.  My dad talked about life being too complicated. 

I’m not that young myself anymore and have my own aches and pains, little things that go wrong or muscles that don’t bounce back the way they used to. I don’t sleep as well at night as I once did and my digestion is iffy at times so I have to be careful what I eat.

It saddens me to see my parents now.  It seems to me that their quality of life isn’t all that good.  And yet they have enough money to live, food and shelter, people who help them.  I try to suggest things, though I’m not sure they get through.   I know that depression can be an issue for seniors.  It’s difficult to walk in another’s shoes.  Not easy to change your behaviour or ways of thinking after a lifetime of doing things a certain way.

As I continue to get older (and right now I`d like to get really old) I want to be the kind of person who sees the glass half full rather than half empty.  In other words, it`s not about what I`ve already drunk except in so far as I have all the memories of the great tastes (and the bitter ones too – because those brought me learning and insight), but rather about what`s still left to drink.

What surprises may lurk around the next corner?  I didn`t expect to have a grandson who I`m crazy about and I wouldn`t have missed that experience for the world.  I want plenty more time with him and his parents.  I want the experience of spending time with friends, travelling, writing, and just simply living.  My garden is beautiful right now with bright flowers; walking along the riverbank in the cool of a summer morning is amazing.

Attitude is a choice and even the worst experience can be improved by a positive outlook.  It`s not always easy to find the light in the darkness, but I certainly intend to do my best in that regard.  And if you just can’t find the candles (there was a power outage when I was out at my parents and my mother got terribly upset when the kerosene lamp was empty and she couldn’t find the candles), maybe the best thing to do is just sit there and enjoy the dark.

Sloth

My Webster`s dictionary defines it as a `disinclination to action or labour.´   In the Christian tradition it’s one of the seven deadly sins (spiritual apathy).  For me, though it`s not always a bad thing.  Sloth can be a time of relaxation after period of intense activity or thought.  In fact sloth can be necessary for your mind and body to regroup, recoup, or regenerate.

After a long walk trudging through knee-deep snow along the river bank, it`s great to come home and lie on the couch with hot chocolate and a book.  What`s better than stretching out on a lounge on your back deck on a hot summer afternoon with a cool drink, to watch birds splashing in the birdbath or feasting on your Saskatoons and strawberries?  Saves a lot of picking.  I love to spend most of a day reading a truly engrossing book; so what if it`s a mystery or fantasy rather than something mind improving?

I`m not always at ease with sloth, however.  Recently after a couple of weeks of doing various odd jobs around my house and yard, I found myself just wanting to sleep in, or watch tv or read.  There was a young adult novel waiting to be worked on and I knew I should get at it.  So I compromised and tried to do a bit of writing every day, but also give myself lots of time to be slothful.  I felt guilty – shouldn`t I be painting this chair or cleaning or washing windows?  I should really be getting more work done on the novel.  Nevertheless, I allowed myself that somewhat unsatisfactory time when I alternated periods of sloth with trying to do some work.  I generally give myself deadlines for writing projects – I`ll work on a piece for a while and then move on to something else – to avoid boredom, so after a couple of weeks, I moved on to a different writing project even though I hadn`t done much on the other one (I`ll get back to it eventually).

Suddenly my whole outlook has changed.  I`m loving this project, the writing is going well, and I`m having fun.  My days have fallen into a relaxed rhythm again, of yoga in the morning, breakfast, going for a long walk on alternate days, writing for a good chunk of the day, and doing other odds and ends (I try do one sort of `chore´ project each day as well).  So was it actually true sloth I experienced previously ,or my soul telling me that the project I`d picked wasn`t the right one at this time?

Years ago someone gave me a book extolling the virtue of naps.  It was a great book (I`ve since passed it on), talking about napping at odd times – long naps, short naps – and all the strange places you could try taking a nap (in a tree for example – I`ve never tried that).  I was still working full time, but craving sleep because I never seemed to get enough.  When I retired from my job (though I didn`t retire from working), I found that sleeping when I felt tired was a wonderful luxury, but also a necessity.  I began to feel rested for the first time in years.

These days my life is much more balanced than the last few years when I was working full time.   I generally get enough sleep and rest and I find useful and meaningful work to do (sometimes it even pays money).  Still, every once in a while I need a reminder that I have to listen to what my body and my soul are telling me about what I should be doing.

Peony

Individual plants can live up to 50 some years and there are records of peonies in China as long ago as 1000 BCE.    Apparently centuries later, peony plants were so valued that they sometimes were bought for huge sums and also included as part of dowry settlements.   Sounds similar to the story of tulips.  The plants were also cultivated in Japan, Europe and North America.

I have white, pink and red varieties (no idea what their names are) and each year I look forward to their blooming.  Mine are almost done now.

It’s a myth that peonies need ants to open – the reason ants crawl all over the buds is because they want to get some of the sweetness.  It’s also a fact that peonies, if picked in the bud stage can be kept in the refrigerator for several weeks and then brought out to bloom.  I heard of this being done for a wedding.

Peonies have also been used for medicinal purposes.  Roots, bark, seeds and flowers have been used, mostly in oriental medicine.  Modern researchers are working on isolating compounds from the plants that may be of value.

Apparently the most well known and prolific peony breeder in North America was Arthur Saunders, born in Canada and later a professor at Hamilton College in Clinton, New York.

The Canadian Peony Society was created in 1998.  Their show and general meeting is on this weekend in Calgary at the Botanical Gardens.  I found a site on line of a company in Ontario that grows over 1400 varieties of peonies!