Everyone should have a Nanny.

I woke up this morning at the same time I do every December 31st for the last 8 years, the time when I got the call that my dear Nanny had passed away.  I got up, and she has been on my mind all morning, so I am sitting to write about my Nanny, and how much I still miss her.

On Christmas Eve this year I went to my trunk to dig out an old picture of me with Santa from 20 years ago.  While I browsed later through old photo albums, a tiny slip of paper fell to the floor, and as I unfolded it, I realized it was Nanny's writing.  It was a note she had done in haste 20 years ago when a relative was on their way to Halifax, and she wanted to send me a note to say she was thinking about me, and to remind me of how much she loved me.  I honestly can say I do not remember one time in my whole entire life when I ever doubted that she loved me, entirely, completely and without hesitation.  What an amazing gift to give someone, and after she passed away I often thought of how she loved her family...we were all very blessed.

If I close my eyes and try to go back in time, the very first memory I can recall of Nanny was of us praying together.  When I would go to her house to spend a night she would have the same routine most nights.  She would make me a bedtime snack, set up the kerosene heater, do her journal, read me something and then the light would go out and prayers would be said.  Her faith over the years was another lesson that she gave us all, and no matter what challenge she was given it was her faith and wonderful spirit that carried us all through.  Nanny's house was a wonderful house to visit, she always had grandchildren coming and going(especially in the summer), her extended family would come from Halifax and many friends and neighbours were always popping in for tea and rolls.  She had this natural ability to make everyone feel at home, and  like you were the center of attention when you sat in front of her rocking chair.

At a very early age I developed a fear of dying.  My mother had siblings who died when they were very young, and many said that I looked like her brother Paddy, who died at 15.  I was convinced I would not live longer than 15 as well.  It was an unfounded fear, and many around me did not like to talk about death.  But Nanny would. I can remember being as young as five when Nanny and I first made our promise to each other.  We came up with the pact that would last us through our whole lives....we promised each other that whoever died first would give the other one a sign that the other one could never doubt or wonder about...it had to be clear that we had made it to heaven, and it was wonderful.  One of my greatest fears through my teenage years was that Nanny would pass away, and I would not know how to go on with life.  She was my Nanny, but she was often my best friend, and she always could pull me back on track and set my priorities straight when I needed it.

I went away to college and then became sick and had to have the bone marrow transplant.  Afterward, Nanny told me she was terrified that I was going to die and that she could not stand the thought if I went first.  Our visits continued when I would come home for weekends, and our phone calls were some of the things that I looked forward to when I moved to Sydney after falling in love and marrying Tim.  The week that we were married, Nanny had open heart surgery on Monday morning.  On Saturday morning, with all the chaos that was going on at my parents house(imagine bridesmaids getting ready, flowers being distributed and clothes still being ironed), I set off with a pizza burger and a cooler to see what Nanny was doing.  I found her in bed, with the window open and the breeze blowing into her darkened room, as she had the blind down.  It is one of the best moments I ever had with Nanny.  I sat on the floor eating my pizza burger, and telling Nanny about all the business that was going on, as I was getting married in about three hours.  We talked about life, love and what she hoped my marriage would be like.  She told me how Tim reminded her of John Angus, how they both made her laugh.  John Angus was my grandfather, and one man that I had wished all my life that I had met.  I then crawled in beside Nanny to lay on her bed for a few minutes, and she wrapped her arms around me and told me to have a wonderful day, she just didn't think she could go, as she was still recovering.  I was okay with that, as long as she was with us, I was okay.  So off I went to get dressed with a new confidence that Tim was the one, and we were going to be wonderful together.

We all were busy with the photographer, and last minute details, and I made it to the deck to get in the car to go to the church, when I realized that Nanny was standing in the yard.  All dressed, and ready to go to the church!  We snapped two quick photos on Mom and Dad's lawn, and we were off.  Not only did she make it to the church, but she stayed for the dinner, and saw me dance my first dance with my husband.  It was a perfect day in many ways.

Two years later I called Nanny early on June 28, 1997 to wish her a Happy Birthday, and to tell her that I was going to have my baby boy that day.  It was her birthday, and her reaction was, "What! Are you in labour?"  No I said, I just know I will have a boy today.  She went into panic mode, and said, "Well if you go into labour, don't call me until it is over."  I called my parents around supper time to say we were going to the hospital, and that it looked like they would be grandparents that day.  I forgot to tell them not to say anything to Nanny, lol.  I had just gotten into the delivery room when the nurse put the call through, and it was Nanny saying she was sorry she had said that, she was just so worried, she would rather just hear about it when it was done.  I think she called three more times, lol, and at one point said to hurry up and have it on her birthday.  She often said Thomas Mitchell Murphy was one of the best birthday gifts she ever received.

Over the years Nanny taught me so much about life, forgiveness, and love.  Oh my god, she loved her children.  Even when they were all married, she talked about them all with such love, and then she did the same with her grandchildren and her great grandchildren.  We all could do no wrong in her eyes. She held us all together.  She was the one who told us all about which granddaughter was pregnant, which grandson had a new job, which son had bought a new truck, or which daughter-in-law had won at bingo.  She was the family center, and through her we were all connected.

And so it was fitting eight years ago when Nanny was fighting cancer, that every single one of us gathered around her.  Every grandchild came home from across Canada, her siblings came, and her children never left her side.  We all wanted to be there, to share her last days with her and each other.  Nanny had always said she did not want to die at Christmas time, she thought it would make her family sad.  We never realized until we were all sitting there on Christmas Eve that her own father had died at Christmas, and she carried that with her without sharing it all those years.  The priest came on Christmas eve, and in true Nanny fashion, I got a call the next morning, Christmas Day that Nanny was waiting for us.  When we arrived, she sat up in bed and got us to put Mitchell and Nathanial up on either side of her.  She told them how much she loved them, and how special they were, and then when Tim took them out she cried and said how she would miss seeing them opening their presents.

The rest of the story tells you what an amazing woman Nanny was, and how much I miss her.  On the 27th I was standing in front of the window in Nanny's hospital room when she opened her eyes.  She wanted to know what time it was, and I said it was just after 1a.m. She noticed how it was snowing out the window, and she wanted me to leave to go home to my boys.  I told her I would leave when she fell asleep, and she said she would not sleep until I got home okay, so  I left.  She got my aunt to call my house later to see if I got home.  We all wanted to be there as much as we could, and it was the very last time that we were all together for Christmas and New Year's.  But I had another fear, I was scared of Nanny actually dying.  I was scared she would be in pain, I was scared I would break down, and I was scared of never hearing her voice again.  Again, Nanny was looking after me.  On the night of the 30th I stayed late, and then decided that I should go home as we were going to take the boys to see their grandparents in Sydney the next day.  At around 6:30a.m., I heard the phone ring, and I told Tim that it was the call.  He said no, it was okay, but it was me who jumped up to answer the phone.  And do you know, I don't remember who was on the other end of the phone?  Not for the life of me, I can't remember.  But where the phone was in our kitchen, there was a huge window out to the backyard, and I turned, and put down the phone.  On every tree in the yard, and lining the step there were hundreds of birds.  Nanny had always liked watching the birds and had several feeders in her yard.  On that December morning there were partridge, blue jays, chickadees, grosbeaks, and robins!  I let out a yell, and Tim came running, we stood looking for a minute, and then the birds starting flying away.  Nanny had given me my sign, and I have never doubted it, just like I had never doubted her love.

I hope to someday be a Nanny, and I can only hope that I will be half as good at it as my Nanny was, because even that would be pretty impressive.  And I hope that this story reminds you of a Nanny in your life, and you call them today to say I love you.  I would give a lot to be able to call Nanny today, but I guess since I have been thinking of her all morning she already is with me. 

Merry Christmas!

I have been waiting to tell my Christmas story from 20 years ago, and I just had to sit down today to finally share.  I hope it will be inspiring to those who might be searching for what the season means, and if miracles, love and hope exist.

As Christmas approached, I was having a few complications in Halifax, and my doctor delivered the bad news that he did not think it was a good idea for me to go home and be so far away from the hospital during the holidays.  To say that I was devastated would be an understatement.  I had been home for Thanksgiving, and had just taken it for granted that I would be home in my own room for Christmas.  Finally on December 20th, the doctor said I could go home, but would have to be back on for a few days on Boxing Day.  The only way that I could go home though was to follow instructions, there would be no mass, no crowds, and avoid anyone who might be sick.  You know how everyone takes pictures going across the Causeway, well I closed my eyes, rolled down the window and cried from there to Mabou.  I was so happy to be home, to have another Christmas in Cape Breton, surrounded by friends and family.

Of course, when my friends heard I was coming home, an impromptu get together was held on the 22nd, and most of my friends from high school poured into my parents house.  I remember before they arrived me going to my Nanny's for an emergency.  It was not bad enough that I had no hair or eyebrows, but my dress pants that I had to wear would not fit, I had lost so much weight.  Nanny quickly stitched them up for me to wear and told me to have fun.  The evening was full of laughs and old stories, and the crowd rule was a little bit broken.

The next night was the annual Christmas tree lighting in Mabou Harbour.  At the end of my lane at home is an old school house, and over the years it housed us on cold winter mornings while we waited for the bus, but at Christmas the Beatons would clean it up and open the door to the community.  Debbie and A.J. Beaton started the tradition, and a huge tree would be decorated outside and lit up every year with lots of food, treats for the kids, singing, and a visit from Santa.  For the Christmas of 1992 I would not be allowed to attend, there would simply be too many kids who might have colds or flus that might be contagious.  My family went with me saying that I did mind at all, that I would feel worse if they stayed home and missed the event.

Our lane is quite long, and one hill in particular is steep, so sitting in my parents' living room I could see the school house all lit up, and the cars parking on the lane.  After about a half hour the tree was lit and shone the little lights into the cold snowy night.  And then there was a knock on the door, and in came Debbie, A.J. and their kids.  They had brought me a present and a treat bag from the party.  But after some quick hugs, they left to go back to the party.  I went to the living  room to watch them walk back down the lane, when another knock came on the door.  It was Gil MacEachern, and his wife Mary, an elderly couple who were very near and dear to my heart.  They were not usually in the Harbour at Christmas, but they had traveled from Antigonish for the evening.  They too left fairly quickly, and when I went back to the window, I saw more people walking up the lane.  And so the evening went, when everyone heard that I was home and unable to go to the school house, each family took their turn to walk up that hill to see me and give me their love and prayers.  After about the third group I realized what was going on, and I called my Nanny who was home in the house below me, and she put tea on and had several visitors herself. 

For many years, my neighbour, Brian MacPhee would don the Santa suit to play the part for the evening, but that night in '92, my former teacher, and another neighbour, Mr. Cummings, was Santa.  Edmund Cummings, who had watched me grow up with his daughters, had pushed me out of his driveway a few times in the winters, and had me coming and going his house over the years as his daughter Shelly and I worked and played together, was the last to come to the house.  By this time my swollen eyes were even more swollen from crying, and I really don't think I had ever felt so much love in my lifetime in one evening...so when he came in the door in his suit, I was laughing and crying all at the same time.  My mom snapped a polaroid picture of us hugging, and it was the only picture that I let anyone take of me during that whole experience.  If you look at it closely you can see my scarf on my head, my drawn in eyebrows, and discolored skin.  But if you look at the picture, my face shows joy.  It was something that I had wondered for a few months if I would ever feel again, and my friends, neighbours and family gave it back to me that night in Mabou Harbour 20 years ago.

There is still more story!

After a rough few days of worrying about and wondering if my bone marrow was failing or not, I finally had some good news.  Every morning my blood work would be done around 6a.m. and by 9 or 10 we would have the results.  We waited patiently for any increase, some sign that my sister's bone marrow was finally taking it's place in my body and working.  We were at about day 14 when my white count went to .4, and we were elated.  It was such a small sign, but such a needed one, never mind that I still had a long way to go.

As I mentioned before, I had been working at Mabou Gardens for a few years, and I worked with so many amazing men and women during that time that I still feel a close connection to many of them.  There was one of our bosses, Gerald, who always looked out for us, and rescued us from snakes and sticky situations on more than one occasion.  He is one of the most genuinely nicest people I have ever met.  There was Chris who invited me for lunch so I would feel like I fit in with the group, and inspired many by living a life centered around her girls and many other youth in the community, her door was always open and she always had a kind word and good advice for many of us.  There was Julie, who was one of the hardest working people I have ever met, she put the rest of us to shame on many days.  Michelle and Andrew were a husband and wife team, Andrew worked his butt off, and Michelle, even though she was only 3 apples high, she carried and loaded those trucks with a smile on her face and a hop in her step.  They were one of the first couples I remember thinking that I wanted what they had in a marriage, they always seemed so happy together, and I never, ever heard Michelle ever complain or criticize her man.  And Gayle, who was like a second mother to me for many years, as her daughter and I worked side by side, went to school together and probably drove both our mothers crazy on more than one occasion. 

But there was one other woman I worked with who would come to mean so much more to me in my life.  At first I did not know how to take Mary Mae, she was a mother of one of the boy's in my class, but I did not know her very well prior to working with her.  In the first year or two we worked together in some green houses, and did some trucks together, and we slowly started getting to know each other a bit better.  By the time I reached grade 12, I was doing almost all my lunch breaks at her house, and I often went to her for advice about just about anything.  When my cousin Shelly was on life support, and it was decided that it would be removed, my mother called Mary Mae so she would tell me during lunch at her house so that I would not hear it from someone else.  Even though we should never have been friends, I loved her, and loved spending time with her.

So when I was in Halifax, many of these people came to visit, sent me cards, and sent their prayers.  They were like my "Garden Family", and the owners, Peter and Florence also came to visit and told me how they would help however they could.  I was a lucky girl, but it was around the day my counts started coming up that Mary Mae came to visit.  Her father was up for a check-up, so they were spending a day or two, and she had planned on staying at the hospital for an evening with me so mom and dad could have a break.  My fantastic cousin Debby had tracked down the VCR for me that day, and for the first time in almost a month I wanted to watch something, most of the time the moving images on TV would make me sick, but I did not just want to watch anything, I wanted to watch Wayne's World.  Poor Mary Mae was the one who was stuck with me on the day I wanted to watch this movie, and I could tell she was not too sure of what she had gotten herself into.  I am sure she thought I must have lost some of my mind along with my hair, as I laughed so hard at Garth and Wayne's antics on the screen, that I made myself sick several times.  It was the best night I had in weeks, and I don't even remember if I stayed awake long enough to say good bye when the movie ended.  You know you have a good friend when they travel for hours to visit, and sit through something that they would never usually watch otherwise, all the while watching you throw up repeatedly with your bald head and raccoon eyes.

But here is the kicker, Mary Mae, my wonderful friend and cheerleader, became my mother-in-law!  Yep, I married her son, Tim, and she has been stuck with me now for 19 years in total.  There have been many nights since that I am sure I have been on her last nerve, and for many years I worried that she thought I was not good enough for her son.  I was always worried about not giving him children of his own, and also, she knew me so well that maybe she just did not want me to be bringing all my baggage to her family.  It was different to be her daughter-in-law, and I probably worried about it more than she ever thought about it, but I am glad to say that now, all these years later my mother-in-law is my friend, and I cannot imagine having her to call when things go wrong in my life.  She continues to be one of my biggest cheerleaders, and we now share a history that only family can share.  We can start a sentence, and we know which story is coming, and I can say, "Remember that time when Tim did that?"  And she knows exactly what I mean. 

She will bawl her eyes out when she reads this, but I love you Mary Mae, thanks for everything over the last 23 years, especially your son, lol.

The Centre of Hope

On Saturday night several of my Twitter friends were attending and twittering about the KD Gala here in town.  If you don’t know about this event, it is an annual event, and it is in support of the Centre of Hope.  As I sat thinking about the Centre, I decided to share some very personal stories about what the Centre of Hope has come to mean for me and my family.

The first few months that I was in Fort McMurray, I was hired and working for the registry office here in town.  I met people from around the world while working there, and heard so many personal stories since some of the services provided there meant that you had to ask some personal questions.  Over a couple of weeks I saw one man come into the office on several occasions, but I never had him at my counter.  I could see that he was frustrated some days when he didn’t have the proper paperwork, and sad on other days when he realized that he would have to return with another form to get whatever he needed.  On a Friday afternoon, in mid November, he arrived at the office which was almost deserted because outside it was bitterly cold, and the wind made your face sting when it hit you.  The girls in the office had been digging out Christmas decorations since it was so quiet, and I was nearest the counter when he entered, so he became my customer that day.  I was not in a rush, as we often could be, and that day, we walked through every form, every step, and we filled everything out together.  I made a few phone calls with questions, and we finally had everything done so that he could receive an Alberta driver’s license.  He left, and I never really thought about the transaction at all, until about three weeks later, and it was getting closer to Christmas.  It was again a Friday, but the office was filled to capacity, and the line was going out the door.  This man entered the office, and asked if he could have everyone’s attention.  He then went on to say that he had been struggling to get his license in Alberta, and had finally received it that day in the mail.  He said he did not have money to buy chocolates for the girls in the office who had helped him, but that he wanted to share a song as thanks instead.  You could have heard a pin drop as this man told his story and then gave a stunning rendition of Silent Night and then We Wish You a Merry Christmas.  It was better than any of the chocolates we received, and the sweet memory still lingers.  On the day he came in and I served him, I too was stuck with how to help him, so I called the Centre of Hope.  They knew the man, he had used their services, and together that day we came up with ways to help him.  The day he came to say thanks, he said that he had already gotten a job, and would be getting a place in camp.  That was the first time I thought that the centre truly gave people hope.

I never thought our relationship would get more personal, but it did.  I had debated sharing the rest of the story, but it really is something to be proud of instead of not talking about, so here it goes.  Our little girl’s biological mother has had a very hard life, and sadly, she never had a strong family connection or support.  So when she found herself in labor on a record breaking cold night in February, she had no one to go to….except for the Centre of Hope.  Workers there took her to the hospital, and were there when our beautiful baby was born.  As we worked towards the adoption, she continued to struggle with her own demons, but her love for her little girl always shone through.  Mother’s Day rolled around, and after we were all out to brunch, I thought, “I bet her mom would like to see her today.”  But where would she be?  I drove to the Centre of Hope, and there she was sitting on the picnic table, she had gone there for support that day as she was missing her little girl.  We returned on July 1^st to watch the parade together.  The Centre was our connection.  And then came Christmas Eve.  We were busily running around, and were heading out to gather with family who was visiting, when we got a call from the Centre of Hope.  Our little girl’s mom was there, waiting for a visit with one of the government workers.  I called the office, and no one knew of a visit, and anyone who could help had already left.  At this time, we were drawing closer to the adoption, and the worker who I eventually spoke with was very matter of fact, and said that I did not even have to call back, not to worry about it, and that no visit would happen.  I sat torn for almost 20 minutes, but the image of her mother sitting there on Christmas Eve was too much to stand.  I called the Centre back, and told them not to tell her, but I was coming, was it okay with them? 

I will never, ever forget arriving with our little girl dressed for Christmas Eve.  Her mother ran faster than any Olympic sprinter down those stairs when they called up for her, and she ran straight into my arms with words of thanks and gratitude pouring from her mouth.  Everyone there, workers, and clients both gathered around to proclaim what a beautiful little girl we had.  Her mother beamed proudly, and quickly handed her back when she started to cry because she did not want to upset her.  She said she would have been happy just seeing her through a window, but this was so much better.  It was one of the most powerful moments I have ever had in my life, and as she handed her daughter back to me, she said, “Go back with your mommy, I love you, Merry Christmas baby girl.”  The Centre of Hope made the moment happen, they give hope to those who are way too often overlooked, and while there can be many hard stories, the Centre has magic happening there, and should be supported and celebrated by the community.  I am glad the gala was well attended, and I hope the support continues as we approach the Christmas season.

Verna can be reached at: mackdale@hotmail.com

Keep it going!

Life gets to busy, especially when you have sick people in the house.  As many of you know, my husband, Tim was in a bad accident a few months ago, and yesterday he was told that he may have more long term problems with his leg and hip.  This morning I woke up to one sick child, and by lunch time another one had joined him.  But I still have much to be grateful for....

First, I am still grateful that my husband is here with us.  We have heard so many horrible stories about others who have suffered an even more terrible fate than Tim's...I can only hope that those impaired drivers willl learn some hard lessons and make some major changes in their lives.

Second, I am happy that to have a house full of children on any given day.  I love that our boys have their friends coming and going, and I am blessed that we have new friends who trust and share their children's lives with us.

Third, I am grateful for the ability to sit down and do what I have always wanted to do since about the age of seven.  I love words, and I love creating stories and sharing our stories with everyone.  I continue to believe that we are all more alike than we are different, and that in sharing, we all feel more connected.

Fourth, I am grateful for good teachers.  I had some fantastic teachers during my years at Mabou Consolidated, and they encouraged, supported and inspired me to think about things that I had never thought about before.  On the day after Nelson Mandala was released from prison in South Africa, our english teacher, Carol Chisholm held a, "Free Mandala" party, and she brought in blue cheese and crackers.  I had never tasted blue cheese, and I had never heard of Mandala.  She brought South Africa to rural Cape Breton, and she made me want to visit there, it is on my bucket list, and when I go, I will send her a post card, and once again thank her.  Great teachers like her can make you dream bigger, think bigger, and want more for your life...how do you thank someone for doing something like that for your life?  Already in my boys' lives, I see that there are teachers shaping their lives, and even that Shayleen looks to her teacher for guidance and direction.  We are lucky to have such support now as parents, and praise the Lord for wonderful teachers.

And finally tonight, I am thankful for wonderful neighbors.  Wherever we have wandered in our lives, we have always had fantastic neighbors.  When we first got married, and were living poorly in Howie Centre, we had neighbours that I would still fantastic friends, even though we don't see each other any more.  And then we moved to Chisholm Road, Long Point, Nova Scotia.  Yes, rural Cape Breton, and some of the most fantastic people you have ever met lived on that short little stretch of road.  Long Stretch Road was our next address, and over 7 years, we made a family there.  We had neighbors that we now call family.  The MacLellans, the Downards, the MacLean's and the MacGregor's were one's that held an especially special spot in our hearts.  We have never been able to replace them, but the neighbors on Becker Crescent are trying!  We have now been here for five years, and last night, when I took our baby girl around for treats, my heart was touched with our neighbors who asked about Tim, who wondered how I was holding up, and who had special treat bags to send home to my boys.  We have been so blessed over the years to be surrounded by wonderful people, who all make our days a little easier and brighter! 

Saturday nights!

Giving gratitude is easy!  I hope everyone is passing it on, I have had some absolutely wonderful emails, why wait to tell someone you love them? 

So tonight I am giving thanks to Saturday nights.  When I was a little girl in Mabou Harbour, Saturday nights meant fiddle music and trips to Glencoe.  Glencoe was the small, close knit community where my mother grew up, population, 50?  Maybe, lol.  But the people that grew up there, always returned for church at a small, picturesque church that stood alone in the woods, next to a hall that saw more meals served for funerals and weddings than all of us combined have seen in our entire lives.
Dad would play fiddle tunes all the way up to Glencoe, and on the way back, usually classic country, George Jones, Charlie Pride, Johnny Cash, and Kris Kristofferson.  But as I hit my teenage years, there was a station that came to us all the way from Prince Edward Island, and on Saturday nights they played all the oldies, Elvis, Buddy Holly, the Beatles, Marvin Gaye, and the Righteous Brothers.  I fell in love, and a tradition was started. 

Through my high school years, Saturday nights were still filled with music, some nights on the bumpy roads to Glencoe, and then later, with friends, at their houses, or at dances.  At college, Saturday nights were filled with music, we were lucky enough to go to a college where bands were brought in on a regular basis, but we were also surrounded with talented musicians.  It was nothing to us to go to someone's room on a Saturday night and make a case of beer last while listening to someone play the guitar and sing, or play the fiddle while we danced.  Looking back now, it was something we took for granted. 

And then I got married, and some Saturday nights we were too broke to go out to dance on a Saturday night, so my hubby would turn on the stereo and we would dance in the kitchen.  I loved our Saturday night dances, and he will still take me in his arms and waltz me around the room....well, he doesn't right now, but I know when he is back on his feet he will sweep me off mine again.  LOL....good thing we keep our sense of humor.

Our boys came, and some Saturday nights Tim worked shift, and would not be home.  On those nights, I would put on Disney soundtracks, and give the boys their bathes and dance our way to exhaustion, before I would tuck them into their beds....until they creeped over to mine to cuddle. 

Now are Saturday nights are still filled with music, it is a tradition we have kept, and we listen to a mixture of things that the boys like, but Cousin Brucie's Saturday night show on satellite radio is a favorite of mine, as it has great stories from real people who love music as much as I do, and Cousin Brucie is the ultimate lover of music and genuine people....so it makes his show touch your heart week after week. 

The other thing I am grateful for are my Saturday night memories, I got to enjoy many Saturday nights with my sister-in-law, Michelle, and her kids before they moved from here in Fort McMurray to go back home to Cape Breton.  I loved our nights sitting on the deck enjoying music, good food, and the kids running around.  And while I miss them terribly, I will treasure the time that we had, the times we have to come instead of being sad that they are not here to make more memories together.

So on this Saturday night, I hope that your night is filled with music, good friends, family and wonderful memories.  I gotta run, Shayleen wants to dance!

My thanks today, new and old.

I absolutely have the most fantastic thanks to give today!  First of all, and foremost, I want to thank and give gratitude to my friends.  I have a wide variety and mixture of friends, and I am so lucky to have them all in my life.  I have some friends who we really don't keep in touch any more, sure we are on each other's Facebooks, but we don't get to see each other due to distance, but even though we are separated by miles, and do not speak very often, there are some friends I know I can pick up with right where we left off.  There are some girlfriends with whom I might not speak with for months or even years, but we still send each other messages when we know we might need a pick me up, or a cyber "high five". 
And there are other friends who I have never met.  Yep, never.  We have a connection online, and we support each other in our loves, such as writing or food, and it has grown from there, and we support each other in our every day lives. 
The friends that I have in my life are a treasure, and since I suck so bad on the phone, and with making every day small talk, they are really special for putting up with my quirky ways.  So love and kisses are being sent out tonight to my friends, old, new and virtual.

Second for the day, I am thankful for Matt Minglewood.  Now all my friends are laughing, because he has been a staple in my life every single day now for the last 34 years or so. Tonight I drove Mitchell and some friends to Gregorie, and on the way home I had the Live At Last Cd blasting all the way home, while I wiggled in my seat at the stop lights and sang at the top of my lungs right along with Matt.  He has been there for me when I danced with my husband on our wedding night, when my boys were born, on sleepless nights with Shayleen, and most importantly, he provided the entertainment for some of the most fun nights I have had through my lifetime....with my friends, dancing like fools, and laughing like we had no cares.  Thanks Matt, I will always love you.

Third, I am thankful for some things that we all take for granted every day.  Grocery stores, running water, and shelter.  Again, you can ask my friends, I have always wanted to travel to Africa since grade three to raise awareness for the plight that many people face there, like lacking such things as food, and safe drinking water.  Next year, another friend of mine, Blake Crossley will be traveling there with his son Nathaniel, who has raised money for wells in Africa.  I will live vicariously through them, and when they start raising money next month for their trip, I will share with you what they are up to so that we can all help them make their dream come true.

Fourth, I am thankful for good books!  I started my Friday book review tonight, and I honestly had forgotten how much I love sitting down with a good book, and having another one ready when I am done.  Books are my way of traveling, discovering, and seeing a different point of view about life and every thing about it.  They bring me to new countries, and help me learn, but even better, they make me forget about all the regular every day "stuff" and they whisk me away for a while.

Lastly today, I am thankful for clean, nice sheets.  I changed ours today, and I am already looking forward to the way they will feel tonight when I crawl into bed on this snowy night in Fort McMurray.

I hope this reminds you of something you are grateful for, or even better, a person you are grateful for, and go ahead and tell them!