Angelic Bliss, Firey Hell or Summerland?

March 8, 2014 was beyond doubt the saddest day of my life. It is the day my father, Floyd Corbin, passed away. He had not been well for some time, it is a blessing that the end was quick and relatively painless for him. He fought a long battle with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) as well as the after-effects of a couple of strokes. But, he is no longer in pain and is finally able to rest. He leaves behind a loving wife, four children, seven grandchildren and a boatload of great-grandchildren. He leaves a multitude of friends as well.

Our family is of mixed faiths. Some of us believe in reincarnation, some in Summerland, some in Heaven and Hell. I'm not going to debate the afterlife here. That is not the purpose of this post.

What I want to say is that this is an extremely difficult time for our family. We will miss Dad dearly, our world is much poorer without him. We'll miss his irreverence, his laughter, his teachings, his mockery, his love and all the good things he brought into our lives. The best thing about my father was that you always knew where you stood. No lies, no bullshit, no doubts. If you did wrong, you knew it. If you did right, you knew it. When he was proud of you, he told you. There was a comfort in always knowing where you stood and what was expected of you.

He spent many years serving his country in the Canadian military, worked in the oil patch and was quick with a joke and loved to laugh. He always claimed that he didn't like people, but there was always someone around, someone visiting or asking about him. He had more friends than anyone I have ever known. If he met you, you were his friend, and he would remember you years later. He had friends from every social class, and every walk of life. Well, except politicians. If you knew him, you knew that he had no use for politicians of any leaning.

Dad could tell a story like no one else. He could stretch the simplest event into a long running, dramatic or hilarious tale, usually with a bit of embellishment or exaggeration for fun.

Laughter abounded in Dad's presence. Jokes came fast and furious, as did teasing, puns and uncontrolled giggling. A few of my fondest memories include digging garnets in a pit of mud, rock-picking on mountain-sides and in fields, stopping beside the highway to talk to deer and cows. Then there were the camping trips, family vacations, winter carnivals and dog sled runs. He taught my children how to drink jello through straws. He taught me to stand up for myself and for what I believe in. He told me to take no shit, but to give it out when someone else deserved it. To befriend everyone, because no matter who you meet, they have something worth sharing.

While there are no real words to explain what he has meant to me, I do know this. He is in a better place. He is pain free and his mind is clear. And those of you who knew him know that no matter where he ended up in the afterlife, he is kicking back with a beverage, people are gathered around to hear his words of wisdom. And, there is no doubt that he is telling who-ever is in charge how they should be running things. And he is loving every minute of it.

As for me, I will miss him, always.

I love you Dad. Wherever you landed, give 'em hell.

Hugs
Cathy

Welcome, My Wee Grandson

Let me start out by saying that life is absolutely amazing!
 
A couple of days ago, my darling daughter and her husband just celebrated the arrival of their son, my first grandson.

Please welcome the newest addition to my heart, Benjamin Scott.

He is the most precious young man. I adore him already, and I am so proud of his parents! They are so loving and gentle and caring.

What astonished me, is how quickly I fell in love with him. And now I have a problem ... I have two adorable grandchildren to play with. (Ya I know ... not really a problem.)

I was a lazy ass before, but now, I have another perfect excuse to avoid housework, cooking, writing and quilting..... there are two adorable, cuddly, perfectly precious babies who desperately need my loving.

So, on that note, I am off to get some baby cuddles.

Hugs,
Cath

I'm Kind of a Cut-Up

As usual, today's post is related to what is on my mind, not about quilting or pattern design.

Admittedly, on occasion I am easily confused. But, I'm trying to puzzle something out here, and I can't quite make sense of it.

This weekend Hubby and I were camping. And by camping I mean, no running water, no shower, no outhouse, no electricity. No other people for miles around. Think deep woods survival. Roughing it in a tent and cooking over a campfire. On Sunday, I reached into a deep bin of dishes and silverware and being a klutz, I managed to skewer the inside of my forearm on a sharp knife.

According to television crime dramas, the wound is in what could be considered the 'defensive position.' You know, where a knife would strike me if I had my arm up to protect my face. So we pack up our junk and head into the Drayton Valley hospital to get it stitched up. I show up in the emergency room bleeding like a stuck pig, filthy from camping all weekend, my legs and arms covered in bruises (because I am a klutz and bruise like a peach). My hair looks like I was caught in a windstorm and I haven't showered for three days. Frankly, I looked like I had been in a brawl. I talked to five different members of the hospital staff and not one of them, including the doctor, asked how I got a knife wound in such a weird spot.

Now, flash back to about a year and a half ago, give or take. Way back then, we had fish for supper one evening and somehow I managed to get a small fish bone stuck in my throat. (Probably because I was starving and eating way too fast.) I tried eating a piece of bread because I heard that might dislodge it; but it didn't work. To make a long story short, the next morning, my throat was still bugging me so I went to the South Calgary Health Center to see if there was still something lodged there.

The nurse takes me into the back and starts asking me questions. One of the questions was "How are things at home? Is everything okay?" That stumped me, I didn't know what she was getting at. I finally managed to determine that she was asking about domestic abuse. What the hell? My response was, "Tell me how that has anything to do with a fishbone in my throat and how it is any of your f-ing business?" Seriously, I'm a chubby girl. I'm not skinny enough that someone might be force feeding me by ramming whole fish down my throat.

The concept of asking patients about abuse pissed me off. I didn't have bruises, scrapes, cuts or broken bones. (And don't give me a lecture on how the questions might help someone, I had a damned fish bone stuck in my throat, not a wound that might come from being battered.)

Does this make any sense to you? I get a fish bone stuck in my throat and get the third degree, and I have an awkward knife wound and nobody even asks how I got it?

Like I said, I don't get it!

Oh, the cut was small, but deep enough that I needed it sutured. Only one stitch but it hurt like hell when they stitched it without freezing. Had to get a tetanus shot too. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. (And I'm getting a getter bin to store the dishes and sharp knives in.)

Rant finished.

Hugs
Cath

End of an Era

I have made a very painful decision.

With all the things going on in my life (grand-babies, rheumatoid arthritis, epilepsy, novel writing) I have determined that it is time to sell my long-arm machine.

It is funny how much the decision hurt. My long arm machine has been part of my life for six years. I have quilted close to 1000 quilts on her. I love using her. Sadly, she takes up an entire room and a whole lot of my time.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a lot of irons in the fire. I am a quilter, doodler, crocheter, knitter, stitcher, pattern designer, wife, mother and grandmother. In addition to all this, I am a writer. I write novels, and am working on several quilting instruction books. My life is full and my time is busy. Something has to give.

When I sit back and reflect on it, I know that selling my machine is the right decision. Yes, I will have to pay to have my larger quilts quilted by another professional, but Calgary is full of ladies who do lovely work. But my body is telling me to slow down and take care of myself. So I shall use the gym more, eat better and leave the physical strain of standing for long periods while quilting behind me.

So, my plan is to finish the few quilts in my queue and part ways with the machine.

That adorable granddaughter of mine needs a playroom when I start babysitting her in the fall and my long arm is sitting in that space. So while I am giving up one pleasure, I am replacing it with another. And in the long run, I know that I will be much happier spending time with grand children than with a machine.

Life is all about change so, don't be sad for me, celebrate with me. It is the end of one era and the start of another. I shall still design quilts, write quilt patterns and I shall play with grand children. Life will be wonderful!

Hugs
Cathy

Happy Father's Day

It's that time of year again; it is Father's Day.

Every year, I think to myself that I don't appreciate my father nearly enough for all that he has done for me and for all that he continues to do. I let the little moments slip by without telling him how much I love him and how much he means to me. I don't get up to visit him often enough, I don't call enough and I surely don't show my appreciation enough.

Today, I want to tell my father that he is my world. My father, and my mother, raised me to be a good person. To help out where help is needed. To be kind and giving. They taught me to be strong and self-sufficient. To look after myself and my family. To be there for my friends. Dad taught me that actions have consequences and that I have to suck it up when i make a mistake and be accountable for all that I do; good and bad.

He taught me cooking, hunting, fishing, jewellery making, camping, and sports (admittedly I fell short on this one!) He gave me his twisted sense of humor and taught me how to cuss. He was there for me when I did well, but more importantly he encouraged me when I failed. He stood behind me against the bullies and mean girls. He taught me to believe in myself even when no one else did.

But above all else, he taught me that love is a circle and that the more love you give to others, the more you get in return. The more love you get, the more there is to give. Love is unending and you can love countless people and never run out.

So I say it now, thank you Dad. I love you. I appreciate you and all you have done for me. I don't say it often enough, but you are the reason I am who I am today.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Dad, I wish I could shout out to the whole world and tell them how wonderful you are.

Hugs
Cathy