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In grade school—way back in the dark ages—we were taught to write what was called a bread and butter letter. Of course, we were also taught cursive writing back then, but I digress.
A bread and butter letter is simply a thank you to a host or hostess who has been kind enough to have you at their house, or table. Written with pen and ink. Not tapped on keyboard. Not sent as a text. Definitely not a Bitmoji.
Handwritten notes expressing gratitude for hospitality are few and far between these days, and no one was more surprised to receive one than the West Shore RCMP officers in Langford, Vancouver Island, British Columbia.
A woman who was arrested, and spent several days in the Langford jail, not only wrote a Thank You note, but gave her accomodation a 4.5 star rating.
As you can see, the woman’s name has been blacked out and the officers aren’t naming any names, but Const. Nancy Saggar reports that she and her colleagues appreciated the kind gesture and were stoked at the 4.5 star rating.
In Const. Saggar’s words, “The point here is that we do treat everybody with respect. Just because you’re in jail, you still have your rights and we’re going to respect that.”
If you’re going to get yourself arrested, you might consider doing it in Langford 🙂
Aimer at Amazon
Here we are, living the sequel to a movie we never wanted to be in.
Social distancing, masks, quarantines, lockdowns, not to mention the parents battling with online learning, the people forced into unemployment, the gruesome ICU statistics, and the ever present threat of contracting this nasty little virus.
Yeah, fun times. Now, imagine this…
Imagine living through a pandemic, not once, but twice.
Born in 1911, in Lauder, Manitoba, Jemima Westcott was seven years old when the Spanish Flu struck in 1918. There was no social distancing back then, no vaccine, and the schools stayed open. Jemima remembers having to douse her handkerchief in eucalyptus oil which was thought to be both a preventative and a cure. 55,000 Canadians lost their lives to that plague, but Jemima’s family and their farming community escaped the worst of it.
Last Sunday, on January 10th, Jemima celebrated her 110th birthday, making her Manitoba’s oldest resident and one of Canada’s supercentenarians.
A retired teacher, mother to five, and grandmother to fifteen, Jemima is once again waiting out a pandemic. To keep in touch with the family who can’t visit now, Jemima has learned to make video calls.
Jemima’s advice for a long life?
“Be yourself, and enjoy it.”
Don’t tell anyone, but my husband is better at Covid than I am.
I reach for a cookie, he does sit-ups. I bake brownies, he gets on the treadmill. I veg out in front of the television, and he’s downstairs practicing his golf swing.
I get bored, and eat. He gets bored, and cranks out a set of push-ups.
After almost a year of sheltering in place, I’m a mess, and he’s in better shape than ever.
Can you divorce someone for being perfect?
Brand new year, same crap virus.
Just to keep it interesting, Covid-19 has come up with a few new variations. And here we are, hunkering down for another winter of lockdown, Zoom, and Netflix.
Into a sadly distanced holiday season, Netflix dropped a champagne glass bubbling over with cheer. Death to 2020, a British mockumentary from the creative minds behind Black Mirror, had me laughing out loud.
In a year that bounced from frightening to bizzare and back again, Charlie Brooker and Annabel Jones have managed to find the funny. Find it, dissect it, and serve it up on a platter—proving that laughter is the best medicine.
If you’re feeling a little lost and low, now that the gifts have been opened, the balls have dropped, and the fireworks are over, check out Death to 2020. It injects humour into a year that desperately needed it.
In what may be the picture that best encapsulates the whole depressing year, @gregorycochrane gives us this haunting image of a dining dome floating in Lake Ontario…
Until this pandemic invaded our lives, I’d never even heard of a dining dome. Sign of the times.
Bitter winds chased this particular plastic bubble into the November cold lake, where it danced above the grey, freezing waves and promptly sank beneath them.
This nightmare we call 2020 is sinking into the past, and with a vaccine on the horizon, here’s hoping for a better, safer 2021.
I’ll be taking a break this December, hunkering down in my robe, watching Netflix inside and the snow falling outside.
Happy Holidays. Happy New Year.
See you here in 2021, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel 🙂