A Sly Disguise

This poem was written during the first pandemic curfew in 2021.  The photograph was taken by me but kindly edited by a good friend (M.S.).

(Please note that this post's text does not format well on a smart phone and looks better on a computer screen).

A Sly Disguise

                The nightly curfew begins.

                    I curl up on my loveseat

                at my sixth-floor window

                    to view the street below.

                In the darkness I see large

                    snowflakes swirling in slow

                motion around a street lamp

                    like soft white moths.

                The falling snow is silent,

                    as are all the streets.

                Everything glitters under

                    a canopy of city lights.

                How can this infected 

                    world be so beautiful?

                The unseen foe lurks

                    far and wide –

                its danger clothed

                    in sly disguise.

(from the book Longing For The Light by Doris Potter)

© Doris Potter

Happy Valentine's Day

 

I thought for a Valentine's Day post, I would present photos of "hearts" that I have found or have been given to me or in one case, I have purchased.  As you will see, many have been made naturally.

This last one comes from South America and represents people of different races in colourful dress.  It is shown adorning my previous apartment door.

A Cat Rescue Operation From Years Ago

One day back in 1997 I took a different route home from work and in the process came upon an abandoned lot that was home to a colony of feral cats.  The rescue operation lasted a year and involved many obstacles.  There were tragedies and triumphs but every individual that was given a better life was a victory and made it all worthwhile.  A friend who collaborated with me on this undertaking was instrumental in the many victories.  

Here is a "slide show" of the operation.  You can enlarge a photo by clicking on it.

Making Coffee

Prior to COVID-19, I never had a coffee maker but visiting cafés is on hold for now.  I love this one because it is so easy to use.  

Here are the simple steps: 

1) fill the tall steel mug with water;

2) pour that water into the coffee maker's tank;

3) place the plastic cup and filter into the coffee maker;

4) add the ground coffee;

5) plug in, switch on, wait.

Ok, very simple right?  

Well, here are the various scenarios that have happened (with some disastrous results):

1) I've forgotten to add the water;

2) I've added the water to the mug but forgotten to pour it into the tank;

3) I've added the water to the tank but forgotten to add the coffee;

4) I've added the coffee but before putting in the plastic cup and filter;

5) I've added the coffee and water but forgotten to plug it in;

6)  I've plugged it in but forgotten to switch it on.

Now, with my coffee I have a toasted bagel with peanut butter.  

Here is my latest scenario regarding the toaster (which luckily has no separate pieces):

1)  I've forgotten to plug in the toaster;

2)  I've spread the peanut butter on the bagel prior to toasting.

The problem is:  I need a cup of coffee in order to be alert enough to make a cup of coffee!! 

Childhood photos

Today, at 71 years old, I have been given photographs of me (and my siblings) that I have never seen before! It has been wonderful to see these glimpses of the past.  

I thought I would share some of these "new" photos here along with others that I have.  (Captions are beneath each picture.)

My sister Diane at left, my brother Nelson in the middle, and me (Doris).  I am not sure of our ages.  This is my all time favourite photograph of the three of us!

This one is dated 1952.  I am two years old. This is my second favourite group photo.

Again, this one is not dated but I just love our expressions and Nelson looks like a real little scamp!

Nelson, Mum (Mabel), Diane and Doris - 1954

Dad (Ronald), Nelson, Diane and Doris - 1954 (on my 4th birthday)

A rare colour photograph of the three of us!

Nelson and Doris with Santa!

Front row:  Mum (Mabel), Grandpa (Thomas - Mum's father), Dad (Ronald)

Back row:  Nelson and Doris

Update on the Cooper's hawks and the trees

If you recall, the administration of the cemetery where the hawks were nesting had marked two trees flanking the "nest tree" for felling but actions were taken to allow the hawks to fledge safely and take to the skies.  See earlier post here 

Below is a photo of one of the young hawks that was taken in late October.  I haven't seen the parents or the other four juveniles but that is not a cause for alarm since this seems to be their pattern.  Actually I hope this guy has decided to migrate as the weather is quite cold now.

Some interesting activities have happened regarding the trees.  For one thing, red tapes have been taken off some trees and put on others.  It seems willy-nilly to  me and I can see no reason for the change of targets (in terms of the condition or location of the trees).

As for the two trees mentioned earlier, they have not been felled but did remain marked (red tape on trunks) until a film crew arrived on November 6th to film a scene involving a burial.  This in itself was interesting and I tried to discover what the TV show or movie was, but I could not find anything to indicate that.  However I read on the Internet that the show "Transplant" is currently filming in Montreal.  In any event, I noticed that the red tapes were removed!  I figured it may have been just for aesthetic reasons and that they might re-appear after the actors and crew, etc. had left.  But they have not been put back and suddenly red tape has appeared elsewhere on the grounds (see photos).

This is a pole.  It hold up wires and a light.  It does not normally get "felled".

This is a metal pole.  It holds up a light.  

Again, not something that is normally cut down.

I would like to think that someone is making a statement about the killing of so many trees that has occurred within the cemetery and on the surrounding grounds.  I hope the cemetery authorities get the message!

Living With Misophonia

 

I have lived for most of my life with a condition that I had no idea existed or had a name until ten years ago.  That name is misophonia. The word literally means “hatred of sound” and it is now becoming a subject of scientific research, https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-019-44084-8. 

It may sound bizarre to those without the condition but perhaps this example can illustrate it:  imagine being locked in a room where someone continually scrapes their fingernails down a blackboard.

My misophonia is a major influence on where I live, where I go, and who I can be around. 

In the workplace (I am now retired) I was subjected to “sound triggers” like gum chewing, sniffing, humming, and whistling.  With misophonia there are also visual triggers.  Just the sight of a person’s jaw moving, or their foot rotating or twiddling of thumbs evokes feelings of rage and anxiety that make me want to bolt from the room.

Office layouts would change over time as dictated by the latest trends.  Separate offices were the norm until the open concept was adopted, then later on, cubicles became the “in” thing.  The open concept was always the worst for me as I could hear and see people all around me.  Each layout or personnel change brought with it the fear of new triggering situations. 

Then there are the social get-togethers.  Consider that you are at a family event when suddenly you become aware of a close family member (whom you love) rotating their foot as they sit on the couch.  You are in such discomfort that you look for any way to escape or avoid the sight.  You try to find a way to block it from your view (I have awkwardly propped cushions on my lap to do that) or you go and sit at a far table instead of the couch but the hostess calls you back and kindly says “sit here, be comfortable”.  But you can not be comfortable.  You are writhing inside.

I have, after considerable anguish, decided to tell people what is bothering me and often they have been considerate and kind.  One friend told me “Tell me whatever bothers you and I won’t do it” which was wonderful, and a family member said “Just signal to me when I am doing it” but these things are done unconsciously and it is very hard to keep interrupting someone’s conversation to ask them to stop rotating their foot, or sniffing, etcetera.

When discussing with one friend about her gum chewing, she told me that she needed to do it for her dry mouth, and then when she did stop, she would tell me how much she missed it.  On two later occasions, she chewed gum while one other person was present, thinking, I guess, that I would be inhibited from mentioning it in front of them.  These passive-aggressive actions seriously damaged our friendship.

I am now 71, and like many aging people, I live with the knowledge that at some point I can lose my autonomy and be forced to live in a setting that is not of my choosing.  A person with misophonia faces even greater anxiety on this score.  Will I be able to have noise-cancelling headphones and white noise machines at all times?  Will I be able to avoid the triggering sounds and visual cues that put me into a state of torment and anxiety?

I hope that with greater awareness, people will come to understand the serious nature of this condition and how some thoughtful accommodations can help to ease the misery of it.