Category Archives: Uncategorized

Back Seat Sex Education

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Back Seat Sex Education

I`m busy selecting and editing pieces from my blog to put into a project I`m working on. I thought I`d share this piece again from three years ago. Hope it makes you smile.

Yvonnes Musings

I got my earliest sex education out in the middle of a field of daisies, in the back seat of a car, on a hot August afternoon. It was definitely the true and honest facts about what would happen to me if I were to do certain unmentionable things. Things that must be so bad that they could not even be mentioned in the book. The slim worn hard cover book that we were all wrestling for and groping over, as the perspiration trickled down our overheated faces and into our eyes. Eyes wide open in a stunned silence at the graphic explicitness! The total horror of it all… Child birth!

If the pictures in the manual on how to deliver a baby had been in colour and not black and white, all four of us girls, Christine, Patsy, Marsha and I, would surely have upchucked. We would have tossed…

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The Salvagers

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Yvonnes Musings

imagesMy father, a major restorer of order and tidiness to all things within his reach, had done an amazing thing for a man with his character traits. He had taken something built by someone else’s hands and torn it down. One day it stood as a testament to the hard work of the many hands that had made it, and the next day it was a scattered heap, lying across the ground.

The enormous elevated barrel— the water tower next to the CNR tracks, in nearby Strathroy, was where steam locomotives had filled their tanks with water for generations. It was no longer necessary when diesel engines took over. The tower was up for grabs, and our dad’s bid won. After careful planning and consultation with his Uncle Fred, a lifelong railroad man with many skills himself, the measurements were all worked out, and the distance of the fall was calculated…

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The Girls In Yellow Dresses

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For Janice and Kathy, who enjoyed yesterday’s reposting of my experience at the wedding they were flower girls at many years ago, here’s another one for you.

Yvonnes Musings

Janice and Kathy (on right) Janice and Kathy (on right)

There is nothing better than having baby sisters. I was blessed with three of them, Jeannie,  Kathy, and Janice. I also have another treasured sister, Marsha, who is almost a year older than me as well as three younger brothers, Keith, Jim, and Don.

I wanted to write a little here about a sweet memory of my two  youngest sisters,Kathy and Janice, after I found this picture of them in their matching yellow flower girl dresses. These were the little girls who were born after I’d finally grown up enough to be able to help with baby care, which happens very young in large families.

Disposable diapers weren’t commonly used in the  50’s or early 60’s,  so changing diapers involved using those very large diaper pins which could really inflict a painful injury if not handled deftly. Our Mom was of the two-pin school of…

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If The Shoe Fits It’s Not Likely Yours!

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I hope you enjoy this story I’ve decided to repost.

Yvonnes Musings

English: A pair of high-heeled shoes.

I will never forget the thrilling feeling of wearing my first high heeled shoes. It was 1963 and my sister Marsha and I had been pushing Mom and Dad for several months to allow us to wear nylon stockings for the very first time, knowing, of course, that ladies only ever wore stockings with fairly exciting shoes. As far as we were concerned shoes with rhinestones on the straps, shoes with bows, shoes that were any colour but brown or black were exciting.

We were both sick to death (it doesn’t take much to make a 13 year old or 14 year old sick to death. Apparently we could “just die” for any number of reasons—boredom, embarrassment, or starvation when dinner was a half hour late.)We were sick to death of the ugly brown utilitarian ones we normally had to wear, the kind with laces, or the kind with old…

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An Unsurpassed Mother’s Day Gift — Yvonnes Musings

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I have decided to repost the following for my daughter Carrie Ann’s birthday today. I hope you all enjoy: The most beautiful gift that I have ever received was given to me several decades ago for Mothers’ Day. To be honest, I really wasn’t expecting anything beyond that which I had already been given. There […]

via An Unsurpassed Mother’s Day Gift — Yvonnes Musings

Ethan’s Friend

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Siri ( named Sirius, the Dog Star), shortly after leaving her mother is now two.

The woeful sound rose in the crisp early morning air, strengthening in volume as it grew from a cry to a wail, as I approached the driveway from the back yard.

I hurriedly passed under the overhang of the workshop, en-route, and then rounded the corner. From there I could both hear and observe the struggle going on—“No Mummy! No! I wanna go home! I don’t wanna get out! I don’t want you to go to work! I wanna go home!”

“But Ethan, you have to get out. Mummy has to go to work. You need to cooperate!” Apparently, the negotiations had already been going on for some time—but to no avail.

Ethan, my heart’s delight, my three-year-old great-nephew, whom I am privileged to babysit on Thursdays, had apparently dug in his heels (if there was any place on his car seat that he could possibly have dug them into.) If he wasn’t physically doing that, then it must simply have been the power of his will that held him there. He was immovable, determined, anchored— a beautiful, lovable, but, nevertheless, stubborn little linebacker, firmly holding his ground against his strong young mother, his determined old aunty, and the ticking of the clock. Sadly, the latter waits for no man— or in this case, no little man.

I had heard that this stubborn streak existed in Ethan, and that it had occasionally emerged in the past, but I believed, until then, that surely it was an exaggeration. I had never witnessed it before. This incident put me in mind of my own son, forty years earlier. When he started kindergarten, for three mornings in a row, he wrapped his arms tightly around the light standard on the corner near our house, and refused to be dragged away from it. This memory seemed like eons ago until that very moment with Ethan. Strangely, it brought back that same mother’s pain.

With one of us pushing Ethan forward from behind, and one of us pulling from in front, we finally dislodged him from his seat. Realizing that he was defeated, he tearfully turned himself away from us, put a knee down onto the carpet and backed himself  slowly out and onto the gravel driveway.

His mummy then kissed him, and hugged him, and reassured him lovingly of her imminent return, but his persistent sobs prevented anything he tried to say to her from being understood. Finally, he took my hand— tears still streaming down his face.

We waved goodbye together and I quickly turned with him, to preempt him from having any last-minute thoughts of running towards his mother’s  car as she backed it out of the driveway. “Aah! Poor Mummy,” I thought.”I know how you feel.”

I decided we would stop and snuggle on the garden bench, against the wall, under the shop overhang, on the way to the house. Maybe I would be able to decipher then what it was he was trying to say, amidst those gasping little sobs.

My own heart was pounding with both empathy and exhaustion as I seated myself. He snuggled in close as I reached towards him to wipe away a big tear rolling towards his chin.

Suddenly— Boom!— Siri, our family’s big golden retriever, bounded up from the backyard and leaped right up onto the bench, positioning herself on her haunches, right next to Ethan. Like a loving mother dog she began licking his face with great enthusiasm.

“Siri’s kissing me! Siri’s kissing me!” Ethan cried. And, for all intents and purposes, I do believe she was!

For some reason, in my belief that words are important, that words can solve everything, I had just been out-manoeuvred in my attempt at communicating— by a dog! Siri had let Ethan know all that he needed to know, without asking a single question, or waiting for a single answer—“Everything’s gonna be alright!”

Could it be that Siri remembered the pain of being separated from her own mother when she left that big barn on the farm where she had been raised?

Or was it just in her nature to be loving towards this little boy, who has been patiently trying to teach her to obey him, with his commands of “Sit! Siri, sit!” or “Up! Siri, up!” and his handful of dog treats that he asks us for the moment that he sees her?

Or perhaps this was simply something that I like to call a “God moment”— a moment when God puts whatever is necessary for us  into our path, just when we need it the most.

Whatever it was, it was  beautiful.