Wet Feet & A Warm Heart

Hagstrom H-IIB
A great old bass guitar, Hagstrom H-IIB, that will be finding a new and appreciative home.
Our car suddenly began to leak into the passenger compartment, and not in a small way! We were out for a drive when Attila, who was driving, turned a corner, causing water to literally pour onto my feet. What an unpleasant surprise!

I’ve been trying to dry out the passenger compartment, but it is a losing battle with all this rain. I managed to remove the glove compartment, and Attila got the carpet up to have a look at the workings. Everything was connected. We used a compressor to try to blow the drainage tube clean, but that didn’t work. We reconstructed the car, and I got the glove compartment back in with no problem.

Luckily the dealership will fit me in today; they think it may be leaves preventing the dash from draining. It boggles my mind that a car would be designed without taking falling leaves into account. Autumn and falling leaves are an annual occurrence in Canada. It seems like a no brainer to me, to design cars that don’t allow leaves to clog drainage hoses, but then I don’t design cars so what do I know. I guess I think I know plenty on the usability side of things.

I’ve been experimenting with posting the journal entries to my Facebook Profile, without much luck so far. I will not spend much more time with it, doesn’t seem worthwhile.

I’ve been posting on this journal since 1999, and I don’t expect I’m doing anything earth shattering in doing so. I’ve been roasted and ridiculed by a few people about publishing a personal journal online; without exception they have been people with a high opinion of themselves that is not generally shared by others, much to their dismay. Their take on a journal is that one is seeking popularity, which is true for some I think, but for many it is merely a voice speaking out in the wilderness of the digital world. The “nay sayers” do not risk revealing themselves, and based on what they say to me, I don’t blame them.

I have a Hagstrom Bass guitar, from the late 1960s in excellent condition. I was going to sell it to a collector, but he decided it was not in good enough condition. I was shocked at the time, because I could see no damage whatsoever. It is a beautiful guitar and I had decided it would be better off with someone who could play it. I do not play stringed instruments.

To that end I’ve found a charitable organization that would benefit from the guitar, so I am donating it to them. They will either sell it and use the proceeds to assist children in remote communities with music, or make use of it as a teaching instrument for the same children. I know that it may not be the most financially astute thing I could do, giving the guitar away. However, my peace of mind rests more heavily on warm hearts than it does on money. So off it goes to help kids I’ll never meet in places I’ll never go, bonne chance kids!

Worldly Distractions


6 °C
Condition: Cloudy
Pressure: 101.9 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: 6.2°C
Dewpoint: 6.2°C
Humidity: 100 %
Wind: S 9 km/h


“There are people who, instead of listening to what is being said to them, are already listening to what they are going to say themselves.”
Albert Guinon
1863 – 1923

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A lot of these people with high opinions of themselves — and of their own opinions — keep webpages that they think are much more important, writing about “public” rather than “private” events and concerns. I don’t know who reads them, though apparently there are those who do. I’ve no interest in the rantings of blowhards and can’t get through one of their entries about politics, for example. Different strokes for different folks, I guess, and that’s okay. My own dad remarked that all I talk about on my blog is the waterfowl at my slough, which doesn’t interest him. I said well pop, that’s my life, that’s what interests ME; what else am I going to write about? He’s an avid golfer; if he had a blog and wrote about the game that thrills him, I’d fall asleep. And yet your life, Maggie, about your struggles with work and money, and your love for your children and grandchildren, and your hardworking and mutually supportive partnership with Atilla; these DO interest me and I can relate to them and I care what happens and what you think and am glad it’s what you write, and write so well, about.

Perhaps, in spite of our belief we’re modernized in our attitudes, we are still in the age when “domestic” concerns were not even on the radar of what is respected and admired as the domain of men rather than women; we think think times have changed, but “women’s” work and their personal interests and challenges are certainly still not given their due. I think they are MORE important to one’s daily life and to what we learn matters most to us when we reach our deathbeds. I learn more that is practical and usable in my everyday life from reading personal blogs by people sharing their hard roads and their less noticeable battles and victories, than I’ve ever learned from any article or even conversation about, for example, political parties and actions or the nations economics or anything else. But it really is such an individual thing. My husband would snore through the personal webpages I prefer to read (and tends to mock my interest in them); my eyes glaze over in 30 seconds where he will read kijiji ads for hours every evening.

Terra and Lares’s new house looks fabulous! I hope it doesn’t cost them too much to repair and maintain, as these things sometimes do. But then, even newer homes require considerable financial input in just a few years, and they don’t have half the character or warmth.


Pay no attention to those people who ridicule your journal. I’ve been reading it since 1999 and have enjoyed learning about your life all these years. Real communication can go on through the web. (Not just all that boring political rantings.) That guitar looks beautiful and I bet it makes a good sound. I hope it goes to an appreciative recipient.


Each of our lives is different, yet the same. The journals connect us and allow us to know of the journeys we face. We find out that we are not alone, we find that we can cheer each other on, we can console each other and we can offer each other advice or a hug as needed. Most of all, we are in touch with each other and the world. This journal says, “I was here. This was my life. I mattered.” And that is important to everybody.