96. I Love ... that I was born a Woman.

I've seen and heard and read

about so many places in the world

that being a woman

would be a difficult burden;

where girls are not valued

or cherished

or protected.

Where they have no rights,

no freedom,

no opportunity.

I am so blessed to be a

Woman.

Here.

Now.

I am able,

encouraged

to live the life that I choose.

There is still fussing about 

gender discrimination

and glass ceilings for women.

That is not in my world.

In my world

I am just a regular person

with the bonus

that I was able to

carry a child,

to give birth,

to have the latitude in society

to go out and work

or stay home.

Any obstacles to that,

in my world,

have been totally self imposed.

It is a wonderful thing to be a woman

in my world;

to come and go;

to plan and dream;

to create.

To create the world that I want.

95. I Love ... the Sunday newspaper

I have a Sunday ritual that 

I love.

A friend of Brian's comes to pick him up

every Sunday morning.

Early.

It's their thing.

They do it Saturday too -

thier boyish 'missions'.

Sunday though,

he brings me the 

"Sunday Star".

I make a second cup of coffee

and I go through every page of that paper;

except for the Sports.

The Saturday Star is immense,

80% of it stuff that I have no interest in -

houses, cars, jobs, GTA, 

advertising for businesses in the big city,

the biggest honkin' paper

that can start the woodstove for a week.

Sunday though,

it's a more manageable.

Good reading.

Entertainment, book reveiws, world news,

well written articles,

the insert of the New York Times.

It's a major treat for me,

to take the time

with my coffee and paper.

Totally, totally

different

than screen time.

It's my Sunday thing to do.

94. I Love ... aprons.

Funny that I've never worn one

considering the fact

I really do

love them.

When I see someone with an apron on,

I think of my Mom.

The absolute only time she was 

without one

was going to Church

or to town.

Around the house it was her 

uniform.

It's a shame they went out of 

vogue.

They can actually be

very creative, 

a personal fashion statement.

You can tell something about someone

by the colour and style.

A painter's apron,

a carpenter's apron,

a baker's apron.

Every once in a while

I think of it ...

that I should make me one.

And wear it.

I should.

93. I Love ... the first day you can open the windows.

If you've never lived

in a 4 seasons climate

you couldn't possible

imagine

how that feels.

Months and months

of being caged in.

No air movement.

Oil furnace.

Wood stove.

That first day 

when you can open the windows

and let the fresh air in...

ahhhhh.

And get out all the cleaning stuff

and happily remove

that layer of

winter grime.

Clean windows.

Clean everything.

I love it.

92. I Love ... dragonflies.

You wouldn't think I would.

You wouldn't think anyone would,

really.

They're ugly.

And they're kind of scarey.

Actually,

in Newfoundland they call them

Horse Stingers.

They really are afraid of them.

They look menacing

but they really aren't.

They don't swarm at you

like irritating bugs.

They are difficult to catch,

illusive.

Close up,

they are so complex

that the ugliness is not,

it is actually fascinating.

One of my most memorable mornings

was breakfast at the lighthouse

on Ship Island.

Dozens and dozens of dragonflies -

more than I had ever seen in my life ...

doing what?

They don't flit like a butterfly,

they don't buzz like a bee,

they don't zoom or zip.

Flying sounds too common, too straight

 for what they actually do.

Helicoperting,

that's the word I suppose,

even though it's not a word.

91. I Love ... the smell of fresh cut hay.

It takes me back.

to my childhood.

It takes me back

to the farm,

to the horses,

to my Dad.

It takes me back

to our kitchen;

figuring out after lunch

whether it would be dry enough 

to bale.

Standing on the hay wagon,

trying to keep my balance,

grabbing and dragging

heavy, prickly bales.

Pretending at twelve years old,

that I was strong to lift them.

I was.

Only for the first three rows.

And then I'd drive the tractor,

having to stand up

with all my weight,

to get the clutch in.

Riding the bumpy, squeaking wagon - 

bouncing on the hard wood on the way there,

riding high on the load on the way back.

When I drive by a field now

and smell fresh cut hay,

it all comes back -

a whiff of the past.

90. I Love ... jackets.

I am a jacket person.

Always have been.

I have no idea

whether they are in or out

of style.

They are MY style.

I just don't feel 

finished

unless I slip on a jacket.

It's hard for me to get rid of them

even if they are 

shouting out the date

that they came to live with me.

Styles change and I will buy new ones,

but I have a tough time 

letting go

of the other guys.

I still have my pink, blocky jacket that

I bought at Macy's in New York City in

1991.

Seriously, I do.

A dozen times I have put it in the

discard bag,

and for some strange and unknown reason

I pull it out again.

I have no delusions that it will ever come back

into style.

And it's too tired and faded anyway,

but I can't let it go.