This flying magpielogo is used on all of Helena Frei's websites

Have I mentioned that I despise raccoons?

Me in a Tyvek overall, respirator with dust filters and a cranky mood.My experiences with raccoons haven’t been positive – they’ve nested under the deck and clawed at my feet through the gaps between the boards, defecated on the roof, torn up the garden – repeatedly – and often woken me up disporting themselves under my bedroom window, but the latest outrage is the worst.

Sometime over the summer they pried open a corner of the door to the shed where I store spare chairs, a silk-painting frame and odds & ends of building materials for making running repairs to the house.

They pried it open and moved in.

Unfortunately, I didn’t notice until a couple of weeks ago – the door is behind the apple tree and a composter. The top of the door looks fine, and I didn’t happen to need any of the stuff in the shed over the summer.

It was a horrible mess! Muddy paw marks and heavy dirt smudges all over, many dried dribble marks (the roof does not leak), and a deposit that appeared to be from a raccoon with intestinal problems. And to make the mess even worse, they had clawed up the offcuts of styrofoam insulation that I used to keep the furniture from wicking moisture from the floor – styrofoam crumbs all over everything.

Cleaning up after raccoons can be dangerous – aside from rabies they also carry raccoon roundworm and leptospirosis, both of which can be fatal. So it was on with the disposable Tyvek overalls, gloves and respirator with dust filters. And Javex – lots of Javex to wash the items that are worth keeping and swab down the area I’ve been working on.

Finding a day that’s free, sunny and reasonably warm has been a challenge – this has been a busy and chilly autumn. So far I’ve been able to spend two afternoons cleaning up and have at least one more to go before spring.

Once the shed is empty, I’ll swab it down with Javex solution and seal it up until spring. When the weather is warm enough to paint outdoors, I’ll paint all the surfaces with a stain sealer.

And repair the door so I don’t have to screw it shut to keep the raccoons out,

Grumble.

 

So what to do?

Image of a knight in chain mail waving a sword & kickingThe obvious options – like helping with grandchildren, travel, volunteering, gardening, a hobby – just don’t grab me.

My kids are great and my grandchildren are delightful but, much as I love them and enjoy their company, turning them into a full-time occupation is a creepy idea.

Traveling for the sake of traveling doesn’t appeal – the thought of going on a cruise gives me the willies.

I’ve volunteered – and still volunteer – and meet some great people, but no matter how worthy the cause or useful the work, it leaves me wanting more.

My garden is a pleasure and a refuge, but it’s not a life.

And I’m not sure I get the idea of hobby. If you google the definition of “hobby” you get words like “diversion”, “distraction”, “sideline”. In other words a pastime – something to fill in time.

Which sums up the problem. To this active, healthy little old lady the usual activities deemed suitable for little old ladies sound like filling in useless time, waiting for death.

Um. No. No thanks. That doesn’t suit me; I want something more positive, more creative, more satisfying, more active. Something I can get a kick out of, the sense of a job well done, a life well lived!

 

 

 

 

 

 

This flying magpielogo is used on all of Helena Frei's websites

The world is changing…

Last Sunday I made my farewell pilgrimage to the World’s Biggest Bookstore.

Final receipt from World's Biggest BookstoreFor thirty-three years it’s been a source of information, inspiration and entertainment, and occasionally a refuge. Probably half the books that infest my house came from there.

It wasn’t just somewhere to find reading material, it was a handy place to meet, a useful place to spend those odd bits of time when I was downtown with a gap in my schedule – or simply a good place to browse and relax. Low-key, predictable, reliable and a permanent feature of my personal urban landscape.

Only now it’s closing.

I’m not surprised  – rumors have been circulating for years. A low-rise box with a big footprint is an obvious target in Toronto’s skyrocketing real estate market.

But I am surprised by how bereft I feel. My life has been punctuated by bookstores and the World’s Biggest was a favourite. Mildly scruffy, with long hours, a reasonably clean washroom, no pressure to buy, and staffed by helpful people who didn’t mind if I took piles of books over to a staircase and sat down to browse.

I know change is inevitable, but when something that was a good part of my life disappears I’m saddened – an old friend I took for granted is gone.

In case you’re wondering what the receipt is for, I bought a gardening magazine with an article on hardy clematis and two books on Italian cooking.

…which reminds me – the Cookbook Store also closed this month.

 

This flying magpielogo is used on all of Helena Frei's websites

The kindness of strangers

Unlike Blanche DuBois, I don’t depend on it, but the kindness of strangers sometimes surprises and reassures me.

This morning I slogged through much snow – both falling and fallen – to the hardware store for a 20 kilo bag of anti-slip stuff.

 By the time I got there I was covered with snow and stopped outside the doors to brush some of it off so that it wouldn’t melt and drip once I got into the nice, warm store. I shook the snow off my hat and started to brush it off the rest of me with my mitt.

Then a total stranger gently took the mitt out of my hand, brushed the snow off my back, handed the mitt back and went on her way.

This flying magpielogo is used on all of Helena Frei's websites

Hair

In April 2005 my hairdresser pissed me off royally. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say I was left with an expensive mess.

In that eye-rolling moment of “oh, crap, I have to find a new hairdresser” I had one of those rare flashes of insight that actually make a difference to how my life goes. It went something like “hey, wait a minute…I hate going to hairdressers…”!

So I stopped going to hairdressers and let my hair grow!

It’s been nearly nine years and my hair is long enough now to brush the chair when I sit. Not quite long enough to sit on, but it still seems to be growing, so it may still get there. Sometimes I wear it in a bun or in a single braid down my back; most of the time I wear it in two braids.

My latest hair project is to learn how to sew it crown-fashion like Lucia, Minerva and Europa Anguissola playing chess in this 1555 painting by their sister, Renaissance painter Sofonisba Anguissola (who lived to be a little old lady of 93).

Sofonisba Anguissola's painting of her sisters playing chess