Robin's Ramblings

Hotel Review

2012-01-31T09:40:00.000-05:00

My lack of blog production is because we have been away. I am now in "catch up" mode. The first thing I've written since our return is a hotel review for www.tripadvisor.ca. I have done a few in the past, some good, some bad. Here's the latest.

http://www.tripadvisor.ca/ShowUserReviews-g34168-d266168-r123760550-Sleep_Inn_Ft_Lauderdale_International_Airport-Dania_Beach_Florida.html#CHECK_RATES_CONT

New Year's Eve...and Beyond

2012-01-07T09:41:00.028-05:00

Thanks to Dr. Seuss for these words...
"And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done."

Toward the end of 2011. I was in somewhat of a slump. A few issues were weighing on my mind and I suddenly felt "elderly". I lost interest in things, was sickly and had insomnia.

On December 31st, hubby and I went to a dance with some couples we know. We dressed in our New Year's Eve finest only to be surprised at the variety of clothing worn by much of the crowd. There was a more diverse group at the dance than we had anticipated. The age range was actually quite large. I looked around at the young women and couldn't help but admire their bravery as they donned what appeared to be tulle undergarments, flourescent leggings and short boots. As I stared at their crimped and feathered coiffs, I imagined the hours it must have taken them to look like that. I have a daughter. I know.

Can I be in the picture? Please, please, woof, woof....

The music was mostly fast and modern...very modern. In fact, it was a "video dance", a term which was unfamiliar to much of our table. Music videos played on a screen on the dance floor. I only knew about this because I had once supervised such a dance in a school gymnasium. I loved it and happily sang along and bobbed around. The boom, boom, booming beat and volume of music made conversation challenging. As midnight drew near, we grabbed our hats, noise makers and glasses of water and headed for the dance floor. Midnight. Balloons fell. People hugged, kissed and spilled their drinks. It was 2012!

Hubby and I started dancing to the first slow dance of the night...

***"Theme From Titanic". You know the one...Celine Dion. "This can't be a good omen." I muttered under my breath.

January 1st got off to a slow start after a late night. The day, then the week picked up very quickly. We had a lovely visit with family members. Then later, imagine my surprise at seeing this message on Facebook from my favourite Toronto hotel. (blog "Monday with...", March 31, 2011).

Hotel Victoria

Please congratulate Hilde as our December winner of a Free night's stay at Hotel Victoria!
1 January at 15:03

The next day, I had an appointment at the orthopaedic and sports injury clinic to investigate some foot pain. The doctor told me that my feet are sensitive, very much like hers and that I needed to treat myself to an expensive new pair of shoes. Hmmm...best medical advice I've ever received!

Hubby went on a business trip and the weather was spectacular. The longer these temperatures last, the less time for ice and snow before Spring...fine with me. Puppy and I loafed around at home. I lingered in the tub, played some video games, listened to music. We went for some walks, did some cooking and I attended to medical appointments. Since I did most of my work before New Year's ("Things to Do...", Dec. 31, 2011) there was just a bit of tidying and laundry to be done. I "weighed in" and discovered that I had actually lost half a pound during the Christmas holidays. Besides all this, free samples and coupons galore came in the mail. One coupon was for $25 off a Tilley purchase...wonderful since I received a gift certificate from the same store at Christmas.

The week just kept getting better. On Friday January 6th, an item I wrote in this blog and submitted to the local newspaper was published. I have now achieved something which was on my bucket list (see "My Bucket List", June 30, 2010)

Northumberland News, Friday January 6th, 2012

It is now Saturday morning, one eventful week since New Year's Eve. Hubby made me crepes with strawberries for breakfast. The t.v. news channel has Bon Jovi's "It's My Life" playing in the background. I am officially un-slumped. Happy New Year.

Yummmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

*** Hubby reminded me that 2012 is the 100 year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Perhaps that's the reason for the music at midnight. Perhaps it was coincidence. In my opinion however, a poor and unexplained choice.

Things To Do Before Midnight

2011-12-31T11:32:00.002-05:00

Although routine is generally a challenge for me, twice a year, I do make a special effort to follow some kind of regimen. Those times are New Year's Eve and Chinese New Year's Eve. On those particular days, certain things need to happen. I suppose it all stems from tradition or even superstition. In my case, it's probably not a bad thing to retain these habits.

As I sit here, the laundry is washing. There is to be no dirty laundry in my house on January 1st. I will change and wash the linens after I've had my afternoon nap (necessary so that I might go out and stay up until midnight tonight). Dead plant parts or shrivelled flowers and leaves will be meeting the composter. The dishes will be washed and put away after our last meal, probably consisting of leftovers because the fridge needs to have those items removed. Garbage must go outside and into the bin. And of course, that final blog of the year that needs to be written.

Once all those things are done, I can linger in the bath, dress up for the evening and get ready to ring in 2012.

I do not subscribe to such beliefs as scaring away evil spirits through midnight fireworks and noisemakers. I think those are just fun things for outdoor celebrations and indoor parties. Since I am becoming more sensitive to sounds as I continue on my path toward the grumpier years, perhaps I'll be one of those who will be scared off from public events in the future.

Over the years, I have made my share of resolutions, a New Year's tradition for some. Very few have turned out as anticipated. I learned that making resolutions involving others rarely works. (eg. my grown children will move out of the house this year). Unrealistic resolutions are also usually unsuccessful. (eg. my grown children will move out of the house this year). Having said all that, there will be a New Year's resolution for 2012. Since it's not a "to do" requirement before midnight however, I will share it at a later time.

So as I now go off to fulfill the rest of my pre 2012 chores, I will take this opportunity to wish everyone a productive day followed by a Happy New Year.

Autumn Au Revoir

2011-12-26T10:47:00.003-05:00

My parents bought their first real home in the early 60's. I was eleven years old. It was a small three bedroom bungalow with one bathroom, no garage, a gravel driveway and an unsodded backyard. Until then, we lived in a series of flats in Toronto. In those days, people didn't live with their parents indefinitely, nor did they purchase a huge home the day they got married. My folks worked, they scrimped and eventually, they bought.

One of the first non essential purchases my parents made was an oil painting. They bought it in a jewellry and gift store at the Oshawa Centre. I remember that they went back several times. Spending $50 was a huge decision. They had admired several pieces by a Finnish artist who lived locally named of *Erkki Jalava. Although they preferred his works that showed splashing waves, the price was prohibitive and they ended up selecting an autumn scene, this autumn scene.

I liked it well enough at first, but then, over the years, twenty to thirty years, I began to tire of the picture. Part of the reason was that it seemed "dated". I thought it was time for my parents to revisit their living facilities and try to move into a newer decade of home decor. I had a friend whose parents had almost the exact same picture, painted from a slightly different perspective. In fact, they had met the artist who informed them that these were his "bread and butter" paintings.

In later years, I was surprised to see yet another version of the same painting, a winter scene at the home of my inlaws. Mr. Jalava seemed to be doing well in the "bread and butter" department. I also learned that there was a sister-in-law, Anna Jalava who painted similar scenes. I don't recall the exact location of the works, but they were painted near an Ontario cottage which the Jalava family owned.

After my dad died, the painting was homeless. We took it in. For awhile, it was hanging in our basement hallway. I hesitated to part with it...nostalgia I suppose. I still didn't particularly care for the colours or style. It didn't match my tastes at all, nor did it fit into my small house.

I researched similar paintings. Most were in the $325 price range. Some were even marked "sold". I decided that this was too small an amount of money to part with a piece of my family's history.

Imagine my surprise one day recently, when my daughter in law, admired the picture. "I really like that painting and the frame matches our furniture really well." she said. I remembered their grand house with its spectacular and tastefully decorated formal living, dining room containing French provincial furnishings. I had an idea.

Erkki Jalava would have a good home. I could visit from time to time. Everyone would be happy.

*Erkki Jalava

The Jalava family arrived from Helsinki Finland in 1952 and included Mauri and Anna-Liisa Jalava, Mauri’s brother Erkki and his wife, also named Anna-Liisa, their mother Orvokki and Mauri’s brother-in-law, Paavo Hyttinen. Mauri Jalava had worked in Finland as location manager for two studios and as a freelancer for Finnish movie trade magazines. His wife Anna-Liisa was an accomplished artist, as was Mauri’s brother Erkki.

Erkki Jalava is listed in the National Gallery of Canada archives.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hydro

2011-12-25T09:38:00.009-05:00

It’s 8 a.m. Christmas morning. So why am I not cooking turkey, singing Christmas carols with Justin Bieber or unwrapping gifts with my family? Simple, our hydro is out. After just enough on and off flashes of light to leave our mini dachshund trembling, we sit in the dark. Despite the 7:48 sunrise, the overcast sky has made it pretty difficult to negotiate much of the house.

Since moving to this location, I have learned several things. Patience is certainly near the top of the list. Hubby and I were surprised at the many power outages during our first year here. We accepted it as part of the “small town” experience. There were enough advantages that we could overlook the minor inconvenience of resetting all of our clocks about once a month.

I understand that my distress is not nearly as great as that of the utility employees who now need leave their own families and get out there looking, yet again, for the problem. So I ask, why are there these constant issues?

Despite my current frustration, I am grateful. I am grateful that I have lived to see another Christmas. I am grateful that it’s not too cold outside or there’d be a whole other issue. I am grateful for family and friends. But most of all, I am grateful for the birth of our Saviour and the opportunity to celebrate on this special day.

In a strange kind of way, I am even grateful for the dark and the quiet that is currently all around me. It has given me time to reflect.

Tree Part Three

2011-12-23T20:22:00.001-05:00

Ok, so I was being a bit sappy and overly dramatic in my last blog. For the past week, since the great "festival of trees" caper, I have been hearing nothing but nothing but "we need something in our front window...maybe some candles." We have searched from store to store for an item that would brighten up our large living room window and look good from inside and outside. The stars across the top don't seem to be quite enough. We thought of electric candles but the ones we saw were too short and somewhat chintzy.

After we went downtown and saw the lovely display of lights in the trees of the park, I started to hear, "maybe we should get a tree."

Victoria Park is spectacular

We were running out of time. I ventured out and picked up a cheap fake tree which sprouted plastic optic fibres off its tips. I put it in the window, plugged it in and watched the fibres change from red to blue to green. Then, I waited for it to be noticed and to see the reaction. I got none. Finally I had to say, "I did something and when you see it, let me know if you like it or if I should return it."

Another beautiful sunny day in December

The tree was the right height and the shape was good. The fibres were barely visible at night and totally invisible during the day. This wouldn't do. With two days left until Christmas, the plan changed. If we added a few lights and decorations, it just might work. First we found a string of white lights. Then I made a topper with ribbon and baubles which wouldn't interfere with the optic fibres on the tip.

With a little bit of digging through some bins of ornaments and white lights, we now have a Christmas tree inside and outside the living room window.

Our wedding tree is still visible outside

What I've Won

2011-12-19T19:09:00.000-05:00

In the past, I have often "known" things. For example, I once knew I was going to win a piece of art despite the fact that there were many, many entries. Yes, I did win.

I knew I was going to win a tree from the festival of trees. My best guess now is that I didn't win. The draw was held yesterday and I have not received a phone call.

People asked about my backup plan. I didn't have one and I didn't need one. I was going to win the tree that sparkled and shone and caught my eye. It was going to look fabulous in my living room window. Perhaps it's my own fault that I didn't win. There was a brief time when my resolve wavered. I almost considered purchasing a tree.

I did not come away empty handed during this festive season. I did win something. Hubby and I were at a dance and here is the magnificent centrepiece I brought home. It now graces my dining room table. Lovely.

To me, this arrangement represents more than just flowers, greenery and holly. It reminds me of my many "winnings". It reminds me of all the things I have to be grateful for during this holiday season...family, friends, health and a comfortable life.

And in case that's not enough, I have a fantastic hubby who made my vision come true this Christmas after all. I have a colourful and shining tree in my living room window. It's one of our "wedding favour" trees from four years ago. Hubby transplanted it into the middle of our front lawn and covered it with a tiny blanket of lights. I have to look outside, but will gladly do so as I watch our tree grow older along with us.

My Christmas Tree 2011

2011-12-16T15:36:00.017-05:00

I do not have a Christmas tree in my living room this year. Not yet that is. I am waiting because I'm going to win a tree in two more days. This I know for a fact.

Each year, a local theatre holds a "Festival of Trees" fundraiser. It consists of a three week long display of decorated trees contributed by local clubs, groups and businesses. People are then able to view the exhibit and purchase ballots for a raffle in the hopes of winning their favourite tree. Each tree is more spectacular than the next. Besides trees, there are wreaths, a hand carved wooden train and a few other assorted items. The trees are many and varied. This year I saw a palm tree, a grapevine tree, a white tree and a plastic card tree along with many of the more traditionally decorated artificial varieties. There are 80 trees in all, filling the entrance and the hallways of the theatre with Christmas beauty and cheer.

I marvelled as I walked around viewing the elaborate efforts. There was a cookie tree containing gift certificates for baked goods, a toy tree, a veterinarian's tree with goodies for puppies and a tree donated by a dentist which was filled with dental products. There was a beautiful firefighter tree, which unfortunately was not covered in firefighters, but lovely nonetheless.

Although I put a few ballots into other tree boxes, I carefully selected "my" tree, making certain that the bulk of my tickets went into the appropriate container. Not only that, I folded each one twice in order to have the maximum number of points available for someone to draw out my ballot.

When I selected my tree, I based my choice on the numbers of lights and the overall effect and brightness. Ornaments can always be changed. My favourite was the simplest, shiniest one of all. As I looked down the line of trees, this tree called my name. It will look lovely in my living room window. Here is a photo of the tree which I am going to win at 4 p.m. on Sunday December 18th.

After steering hubby away from the gorgeous blue and turquoise trees which don't match our house decor, he also selected a nice tree. It was unusual, in a more modern style of gold and brown hues. It would also be o.k. in our living room window, not spectacular, but o.k. Coincidentally, it was located right next to my fabulous tree.

These two ballot boxes are currently stuffed with most of our tickets. So now, we wait. We wait until Sunday at 4 p.m. I will then look forward to showing photos of our prize winning tree and our lovely decorated living room. Then, we'll be all set for Christmas.

Pomegranate Cleaning & Juicing Joy

2011-12-11T21:11:00.000-05:00

It's the season once again. I was first introduced to the pomegranate fruit in seventh grade. I had a friend, Justina who brought one for her recess snack. In fact, she brought the same pomegranate for several days until she had finished it. Eventually, she would show up with a new pomegranate and begin nibbling again. I was fascinated so when I asked her about it one day, she gave me a segment. "You can swallow the arils and the seeds," she said.

Yum...sweet, juicy and

flavourful. After I finished picking the seeds from the yellowish pulp, my fingers were tinted red. Apart from my dyed hands, I don't remember a huge mess although I now understand why Justina's parents made her eat the fruit at school.

As an adult I have learned many things about the origins, biblical references and health benefits of pomegranates. I don't need to share those. I will describe some other essential tips that I've discovered. After several pomegranate disasters involving red juice spraying on floors, walls, appliances and clothing, I found a less messy technique. I use the sink with water and a colander. A bowl of water works as well, but I like to have more space. I cut the fruit in half, then peel the seeds off the pith of the immersed pomegranate. The squirting juice stays under water and the seeds are easy to remove and scoop up.

I have seen an even simpler technique although I haven't tried it. Cut a pomegranate in half. Then put the seed side down in the palm of your hand and tap the back with a spoon. The released seeds should drop into a bowl. I would think that the juice would stain hands with this method.

A pomegranate tool is now available. It looks like some type of bowl with a strainer inside. Perhaps I'll look for it in a kitchen gadget store. For the number of pomegranates I consume, I think it might be worth the lack of hassle.

Finally, for those who prefer their pomegranate in juice form, here's a hint from the "Steven and Chris" show. Use a potato ricer, place pomegranate seeds inside and put entire ricer head into a plastic baggie, closed as much as possible, before squeezing. Juice and mess remain in the baggie and juice can be poured into a glass.

Mmmmm...According to some sources, exactly 840 seeds per fruit. According to others
between 200 and 1000. In my opinion, the more, the better.

Appliance Anguish and Plumbing Plagues

2011-12-08T12:24:00.011-05:00

Sometimes I think I should not have been born in a century so rife with technological advances...specifically, anything electrical or water related. I'm not certain if I carry some kind of magnetic force field that messes with household conveniences, or whether all these items are truly defective. I prefer to think it's the latter. At any rate, I've been doomed for years. Hubby has noted and commented on this same personal defect and has said that there's a story here somewhere. I'm not so sure, but here goes.

I first became aware of my affliction some 20 plus years ago. I no sooner moved into my own home with my two small children than the curse began. The fridge conked out...something to do with the defroster timer and in fact, it malfunctioned on two more occasions during that particular appliance's lifetime. The first time it broke, I decided to forgo the repairs indefinitely. I did not feel in a position to maintain my house and an appliance repairman. The good news is that it was winter and we managed to use the great outdoors to keep our food frozen for the next four months. By the second and third times the defroster broke, I located the essential part and replaced it on my own.

My washer stopped functioning shortly thereafter. It filled with water and sat, and sat, and sat. The washer was clearly far less agitated than I was. Fortunately, the transmission was under warranty. The labour wasn't. After shelling out $171, the repairman left and the washer sounded as though it was readying itself for liftoff, but that's another story.

I was familiar with the saying "everything happens in threes", so I wasn't too shocked when the clothes dryer fizzled or I should say sizzled, next. The drum stopped revolving in mid load and half of every item inside became seriously singed and slightly scented. I was thankful for a sympathetic neighbour who not only dismantled the appliance, but cleaned it, replaced some kind of belt and restarted it for a mere $20.

I believe the aforementioned saying about "threes" is inaccurate. At least, it was in my case. It should have read, "everything happens in multiples of three".

A "friend" sold me a used dishwasher that lasted for 2 weeks. That was just long enough for me to enjoy its benefits and realize that I really needed this appliance. Anyone who has ever been blessed with children entering their teens, knows how good they are at denial. It's amazing how every dish in the house gets dirtied by one of two culprits, "nobody" or "wasn't me".

My VCR became defunct during a particularly riveting episode of the now cancelled, "All My Children". I used to look forward to relaxing after work and fast forwarding through my favourite daytime t.v. programmes. One day, the cassette became wedged into the rectangular opening and refused to release a captive Kelly Ripa. Perhaps that's how she was teleported from a soap opera into the realm of the "Regis and Kelly" talk show. I have come to appreciate the modern tivo/dvr Bell thingy that records shows without additional equipment or aggravation....well, unless the satellite dish is disrupted by inclement weather or the smartcard develops a multiple personality disorder. It's always fun dealing with technical support staff. I particularly enjoy pushing every button on the telephone while attempting to get connected to the correct person in a department that is "experiencing higher than usual volume" of calls at that moment.

As for the plumbing, I am proud to say that I have become an expert. I know all about toilet stoppers, floats, chains, plungers, plumbing doctor and numerous other minor essential repairs. I have single handedly replaced the entire inner workings of a toilet. My biggest plumbing challenge came when I tried to figure out how to get my jeans to hang below my....well, never mind.

So today, I found myself home alone and faced with not one or two, but three, defective toilets. The first was experiencing a phantom flush, another developed a leaky pipe and flooded the floor and the third wouldn't stop running. No problem. I looked inside in horror. Not a single one of them had the familiar floats, chains and stoppers. I was flummoxed. I did not think for a moment that I'd ever have to relearn all my plumbing techniques.

Ah well, since I only require one such facility, I shall stick with the phantom flusher and turn off the water flow on the other two. Although I considered phoning a plumber, I have decided rather to call upon one of my newly acquired skills. This is one which I've found very useful. In fact, I've become extremely adept at it over the past few years. I'll simply wait for hubby to return home.

Another World

2011-12-05T07:14:00.004-05:00

No, that's not a soap opera title. I have decided it's a place where thankfully, no people live that I know. It is a fantasyland in which designers, decorators, chefs, stylists and their clientele seem to exist.

Here's the sort of thing to which I'm referring. I recently attended a fund raising workshop wherein a group of us were taught how to decorate the perfect tree and fireplace mantel. I knew I was out of my element the minute I saw freshly coiffed women pull up in the parking lot with brand new SUVs, wearing designer clothing and looking as if they had just stepped out of the pages of Vogue magazine. We sat together in a small room and as one of the instructors spoke. He included a line that went something like this, "I know that most of you live in large century homes." As I shrunk into my chair, I looked around and saw people nod approvingly. Was this a prerequisite for attending this workshop? Did I deign to show up at a function where I didn't belong and wasn't expected? I listened intently, had an enjoyable time and by the end of the 3 hours, I had learned how to do this. Gorgeous.

I usually enjoy viewing Christmas themed fashion, decorating and "helpful hint" shows. It does my imagination good and makes me dream of possibilities.

I can't fully wrap my head around everything that I see in magazines, in shops and on tv, particularly at this time of year. For example, I have often heard "This would make a wonderful hostess gift," after some decorator shows treasures and finds from a designer store...knick knacks and other assorted items that I can't imagine anyone needing or wanting in their house. How many functions do people actually attend where they feel the need to bring some kind of unique and expensive "hostess gift"? What ever happened to taking a bottle of wine or a box of chocolates or cookies?

Right now, I'll go back to reality....my reality. I'm fairly certain that my family room would make a decorator cringe. I however, quite like living in my fun, non designer world and I don't need to change a thing.

Who Says You Can't Teach An Old Dog?

2011-12-03T09:40:00.002-05:00

I don't know how I survived all these years without knowing some fundamental information about the art of being a hausfrau. Strangely, I have learned many household hints in recent years, since my retirement. When I was a teen, I didn't have the opportunity to study home economics in secondary school. In fact, before I began high school, my family moved from the city to the first suburb in Ontario. There, the much coveted free choice course option was "agriculture".

***Note to self - Write a blog about city kid deposited into high school agriculture class for four years.

After you've read this, some of you might say, "everyone knows those things". Don't judge me as inept. I was a career woman and busy mom. I dealt with household problems in other ways. Usually, my way was fast, ineffective, messy or costly. So now, sit back and learn...or just laugh at me for my lack of knowledge.

Visiting my relatives recently taught me two things. Firstly, I learned how to fold socks properly...yes, there is a correct way. Secondly, I finally discovered how to stir anything that might threaten to stick to the bottom of a pot. Allow me to share.

As I was attempting to cram twelve balls of socks into my suitcase, my cousin's wife said, "Let me show you a good way to fold socks. It will take less room." I believe I've seen her method someplace before, but since I'm spacially and geometrically challenged, I have never been able to figure it out.

Step One - Lay the two socks from a pair atop one another. This assumes that you've found a matched set after doing the laundry. Fold the toes of the socks up once past the heel, toward the top, but not the whole way.

As you can see, this method can be used with any colour of socks. Thickness does not make that much difference either. Just remember, unlike the gray pair above, both socks must have heels and tops directly matching. Once you have accomplished this challenging task, move on.

Step Two - Take the rim of the outer sock and fold it down until you get past the toes. It should look like this, perfectly flat and take up hardly any space when you are done. Simple. This allows the socks to be placed in neat, colour coded piles in drawers and luggage.

I can't believe that all these years, I've folded the tops all the way over to the end and created huge space wasting sock balls. On the other hand, my method is fast and works wonderfully well when you need weapons for impending sock fights.

The other thing I learned is actually quite simple. As my tante was stirring wine sauce which was heating on the stove, she said "Do you know about using metal spoons?" The puzzled look on my face must have given away my lack of culinary expertise and utensil knowledge because she immediately elaborated.

"If you use a metal spoon instead of a wooden or other type when stirring things like puddings, you are better able to feel the bottom of the pot so that you can tell when it's thickening or starting to stick." Brilliant. And here I've been burning white sauces among other things for forty years. I guess it helps too if you keep stirring and don't wander off someplace, forgetting that you have something sensitive on the stove.

As an extra tip, I have included this youtube video of a method for folding sheets. It is very useful and clever. No more lumps and bumps? No more tossing a wad of sheets into the closet? No more giant mounds of fabric? Has anyone besides this person been able to master the technique? I haven't. Oh wait. Perhaps that's just because it's not a "woman's job".

Café Au Lait, Hurrayyyyy !

2011-11-25T21:18:00.013-05:00

This is my friend, Denise. Her family owns a coffee shop, the Karma Café. She's smart. She knows coffee. I'll be the first to admit, that I don't really understand much about coffee. I didn't drink it prior to age 50 and then I only consumed the occasional cup of instant. That has changed somewhat in recent years.

My friend not only knows what cappuccino, macchiato, latte, espresso and frappuccino are, but she knows how to make these fancy concoctions and more. She sells fair trade coffee. It smells great and comes in biodegradable, compostable bags...unless of course you order a cup of java in which case....well, you know.

Did I mention that Denise also works at a full time career while doing all this in her "spare time"? One day, she mentioned that she wouldn't mind some help with store decor, specifically shelf and window displays for Christmas. I enjoy doing jobs like that but had never seen the coffee shop, so I was a bit concerned about what might be required and how it would turn out. Nonetheless, it sounded like fun so I sought out some potential ornaments and loaded up several bags with a large variety of seasonal items.

My other friend Mona and I happened to be in the city for a Christmas show last weekend. Afterward, we stopped in to decorate the café. As soon as we arrived, Denise offered us coffee. "What kind would you like?" she asked. Mona responded, "a cappucino please".

"I'll have the same." I said. We each received a lovely huge cup of cappuccino with a fancy design atop. Fantastic. Our engines were revved and we were ready to work.

Two hours later, here is what we had done.

Shelving displaying giftware

Window display with red Christmas balls, red & green sinamay,
coffee bags, gifts and of course, Santa

Showing how one might personalize labels for gift giving....recognize anyone?

And the final words are....

Tante's Torte

2011-11-23T19:24:00.007-05:00

My tante is a fantastic cook and baker. Everything she makes looks professional and delicious. The only thing she lacks is confidence. She doesn't believe that hers looks as good or could possibly taste as good as the one in the recipe. Don't take my word for it. I'll let you choose. One of these tortes is the one she made. The other is a photo in a book. Don't cheat and try to look at details. Just do a quick scan of each and decide.

Torte #1

Torte #2

Ok, ok...so clearly the first one is hers. You can't miss all the crumbs left on the platter. People had devoured several slices before I even had a chance to get a photo. Yummy. I suppose I'm biased but the second cake looks as if someone's tried too hard. Besides, it's lopsided. Seems more like one of my efforts.

So here's the recipe. It looks easy, but.....

....it's in German. I tried to figure it out and post it in English, but the internet translator kept giving me the same words back. As far as I know, there's no word "einrieseln" in English.

I can struggle through the recipe if I desperately want to attempt this magnificent torte one day. Or perhaps I'll just go back to Germany and enjoy tante's.

1000 Uses for Kale

2011-11-19T21:35:00.015-05:00

Hubby has often talked about a certain meal he once ate in Bremen. In fact, he said he consumed the same dish many times, on an overseas vacation prior to our marriage. "Kale and pinkelwurst" to some, is a highly coveted delicacy.

I often searched for a recipe and tried to figure out what form of sausage "pinkelwurst" would be. It just didn't exist in the world as I knew it. No amount of description or babelfish translation helped me. I returned from my recent trip armed with some new information. Firstly, I found out that the German version of http://www.cooks.com/ is http://www.chefkoch.de/. I also learned that kale is "kohl". After only a bit of searching, I found the recipe. Unfortunately, it's quite complex and will require more lessons from the local library's "German for Dummies" before I can figure it out...should I even want to that is.

Photo borrowed from Menschenkind24 and chefkoch.com
Grünkohl mit Pinkel nach Bremer Art

I do sometimes eat kale. It lowers cholesterol. It reduces the risk of certain cancers including bladder, breast, colon, bowel and prostate. It provides us with vitamins, nutrients and fibre. It contains antioxidants and anti-inflammatory qualities. And as if that weren't enough, Dr. Oz says to eat it.

There are as many kale recipes as there are leaves on the plant, perhaps more. When I look at some of them, I wonder whether cooks are at a loss for what to do with this vegetable and are simply attempting to be creative. Here are some examples, "lemon kale with chickpeas"," gemelli with kale, sage and potatoes", "squash and kale phyllo pie" and "kale and olive stew".

I have found a recipe that I quite enjoy. It is for kale chips. It's a particular favourite of mine because it has the right number of ingredients...three, just three. It's as simple as washing and drying the kale, removing the spine and breaking the rest into bite sized pieces, drizzling it with 1 tsp. olive oil, sprinkling with 1 tsp. salt (or substitute) and baking on a parchment paper lined cookie sheet at 375 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes until the edges are brown. They taste like potato chips with fewer calories, no bad fats and tons of nutrition.

Last Saturday, hubby announced he was going to the farmers' market to buy a bit of kale. He wanted to try his hand at cooking some kale and sausage similar to the recipe from Bremen. Kale is in season now so he bought a small bunch.

Does anyone have another 999 uses for kale?

Birdicide

2011-11-14T20:02:00.015-05:00

I was thinking it had blog potential

As we stood outside an aviary in a park in Germany, one of my cousins asked, "Why are you taking that photo? It's just a plain yellow bird. There are prettier ones on the other side."

"I'm taking it because it reminds me of the canary I killed when I was little."

"What! You killed a canary?" my cousin reacted in shock.

"Yes, but I was little, only three and it was an accident. We had a pet canary and I wanted to hold it. I took it out of the cage and accidentally squished it." I responded.

"What? You killed a bird?" she asked, incredulous, as if she hadn't totally internalized the first response.

"Yes, but I was little, only three."

I stood there feeling a little like Hannibal Lecter as one of my other cousins chimed in. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't understand. She's never had children."

That comment seemed to act as an explanation that appeased everyone including my distressed eldest cousin.

Would that it had been that simple during my childhood. I could have been saved a lot of guilt and embarassment. On the other hand, the experience has become part of who I am today...a person with an evil and secret past...a bird murderer.

I heard the sad tale of our dead bird several times a year, every year as I was growing up. My mom used to sigh, then show the blurry black and white photo of me sitting beside the little cage. This always prompted people to ask, "Where is the bird?" The story of the canary's tragic demise was recounted to family, friends and strangers. It was one of those traumatic events that psychologists claim we easily remember from our formative years.

We lived in a mining town in northern Ontario. I have no idea why we had a canary, where it came from or what his name was. I could probably remember with some psychological counselling or perhaps under hypnosis, but to be honest, I don't really care.

I used to watch mom clean the bird cage and take out the canary. I was fascinated and envious. Often, I'd ask, "May I hold him?"

The answer was always the same. "No."

Children don't understand that response. Children require reasonable explanations even at age three. I was no exception. In fairness however, my parents were practically children themselves. They did the best they could with what they knew. They hadn't heard of Dr. Spock or Dr. Seuss or Dr. Phil. Of course, neither had most of the rest of the world.

One day, I inquired about holding the bird and received no answer. My mom always used to say, "Keine antwort ist auch eine antwort." (No answer is also an answer). I reached into the cage and removed the feathery creature just as my mom yelled, "No! Don't touch that bird. Besides, he'll fly away."

Thinking back on it now, I'm fairly confident that my terror upon hearing those shrieking words caused a reflexive jolt that ended with this sad statement. "No, look how nice and still he's laying on my hand."

After hearing the story of how I squeezed the life out of that little canary with my bare hands, everyone was appropriately disgusted and gave their deepest sympathy and regrets to my parents...either for the loss of the bird, or for having such a deviant child, I'm not certain which.

I am fairly sure though, that I have since, repaid my debt to bird society. I've hatched and raised dozens of chickens and ducks. I've nursed injured sparrows and robins back to health. I've fed bread to swans, geese and other wildlife. I've allowed birds to build nests under, and subsequently poop all over my deck. I've hung feeders outside in the winter. But just in case there's something more I can do....if perhaps this bird in an aviary in Germany is a distant relative of our long deceased pet, I am taking a picture. Perhaps I'll even place it in an album next to the old black and white photo of a 3 year old me sitting beside the cage, staring longingly at the canary inside. Or maybe, I'll just write a blog.

Wild child eyeing her unsuspecting potential victim

Waddling In Weinheim

2011-11-13T20:16:00.003-05:00

I've noticed that some heavier, older women walk in a certain way. It looks like more of a sideways rather than forward motion. In fact, I recently commented that one of my favourite actors, Kathy Bates walks in a similar fashion. Sadly, I recently developed this same gait.

After only a few days in Germany, my legs became swollen and the thickness of my calves stretched to my feet. I had pain everywhere, even in the spaces between my toes. The word "cankles" developed new meaning. The bottoms of my feet felt as though they'd been etched by a cookie cutter. My feet ached, my legs waddled, my shoes barely closed. At first, I thought it was caused by all the walking that I'd done since my arrival. I had been covering about 10 km a day. Then I noticed a large number of "technische orthopadie" foot, leg, brace, cane and walker specialty stores within close proximity of each other. I soon realized there was more to the problem than the distances I was covering. Clearly, there was also a regional issue which provided business for all these stores.

The obvious and immediately discernable issue was the walking surface....cobblestones. The soles of my most comfortable shoes were too thin to protect my feet from these ancient instruments of torture. Horseshoes would have been a better option and once were...just not on humans. I finally purchased a pair of senior specials, shoes I swore I would never wear. They didn't help.

Lumpy, bumpy with ankle twisting cracks

As I thought about what else could be the cause of my physical discomfort, I realized that the food and drink were clearly culprits. I had noted that the meals had often been fried and quite salty. Although I had the occasional salad, vegetables were rarely served. Meals consisted of meat, potatoes, bread and gravy. My body couldn't adjust and my legs were the first to demonstrate evidence of retained fluid. Cold cuts with sodium and nitrites were also served at least once a day. When water was requested in a restaurant, we were presented with sprudel, with kohlensaure (carbonated), similar to soda water. Medical experts have always made it clear that besides consuming vegetables, it is necessary to drink plenty of plain water to help the body release excessive toxins and avoid fluid retention.

So, the more swollen my legs became, the more difficult it was to walk, hence, the waddle. In a matter of days, my feet began to burn and my knees ached. The flight home caused even more agony. I could no longer do up my shoes as my feet spilled over the top...frightening. I had visions of having to live with this condition and became extremely frightened.

I have been home for one week. It has taken this long for some recovery to occur. Besides consuming large amounts of water and tea, I have used no salt and have limited my consumption of unhealthy foods. My legs are starting to return to their shapely former selves. I have had several tub soaks. My feet still hurt. Today, I walked. My knees are returning to normal.

I have learned that when I travel in the future, I need to be more cognizant and selective about my activities, realistic about my age and limitations and careful about the food and drinks that I put into my body. This was an experience too scary to repeat.

Older and Hangin' In

2011-11-12T08:00:00.005-05:00

I'd like to say that it's hard to believe that I was born 62 years ago today, but really, it's not. Sometimes I think back over my life and all the things I've squeezed into it and I'm actually amazed. For some of what I've done, I have to say, I'm lucky I survived. For other things, I'm proud and satisfied. I have no regrets and I still look forward to future experiences.

The key for me used to be to "learn or do at least one new thing each day". Now, I try to learn or do something new each week. After all, I've slowed down, and I'm retired.

I look in the mirror and I still see me. It's an older, well ok, much older version of me, but still me. My body has received a few bumps, bruises and scars along the way. It's added some pounds and some "freckles". My knees are achey and my 20/10 vision left me around the time they started making the print in phone books smaller. By the way, does anyone use phone books anymore?

My hearing is still good, although I am now limited to listening to one conversation at a time at a crowded table. I am also still adept at "selective hearing". This skill was once particularly useful when trying to get 5 year olds to raise their hands rather than shout out in class. If it became intolerable, I would simply look them in the eye, put one finger on my lip and raise the other hand in the air to demonstrate what they ought to do. Wouldn't it be great if this would work with polititians?

My teeth are my teeth although the fillings keep getting larger. I still have a few hairs on my head and I'm stubbornly keeping the "mature" colour hidden as much as possible. Not that there's anything wrong with the colour gray, it's just that I'm a "spring" in the seasonal colour palette and gray just doesn't look that great with those warm shades. Besides, I'd have to get a whole new wardrobe to match...hmmmm.

I consume a couple of drugs a day but am relieved that I do not yet need one of those giant plastic containers with compartments that say, Monday, Tuesday etc. or, as I like to call it a "pill suitcase". Besides my multivitamin, I take one pill for blood pressure and one for heart burn. The inhaler is not compulsory, but it's nice to have whenever I have difficulty and feel the need to breathe.

I think that my IQ is still at a reasonable standard although I'm sure I've lost a few points over the years. Crossword puzzles are often nothing more than printing exercises without much challenge. I love language, literature, poetry, music and art. Science and technology fascinate me. I am in awe of the wonders of nature and the world around me. History has developed new meaning especially since I am now part of it. Money and the economy are and will remain mysteries.

So as they say, "this is the first day of the rest of my life". I am realistic. I have sometimes glanced at the obituaries and have been amazed at how many people have died at an age much younger than my current 62 years. I have been very lucky. I think I have a lot of life left in me and a lot of goals and dreams to live out. I'm hoping for many more birthdays and will consider myself fortunate should I be given the ultimate gift...that of more, healthy years. We shall see.

Penguins & Paparazzi

2011-11-11T20:48:00.011-05:00

I've always had a fascination for penguins. Not only are these birds durable, surviving the harshest of conditions in the southern hemisphere, but they're entertaining and cute.

While admiring an assortment of plants and animals in a lovely park in Mannheim, Germany, I came across a small enclosure containing penguins. I was fascinated and of course, took several photos. I believe they were African penguins also called black footed penguins, cute little guys who normally live off the southern African waters. As I watched them, I thought to myself that I could stare at these entertaining, waddling birds for hours.

I was part way around the world, observing these penguins, yet, a controversy about the same species was brewing back home. News reports surfaced about a "couple" of penguins at the Metro Toronto Zoo. Nothing unusual about that except that the penguins, Pedro and Buddy, both males, were described as inseparable and as having "pair bonded".

Apparently, Buddy and Pedro became friends as part of a male group at their former zoo in Toledo, Ohio and have remained close after being moved to the Toronto zoo. Since they have particularly good genes and because the species is expected to die out by the end of the century, it has been determined that Buddy and Pedro need to spend time with female penguins rather than with each other. The Metro Toronto Zoo is one of forty zoos involved in breeding programmes. For this reason, the penguin pals will soon be separated.

Public outcry since this announcement has been widespread. Facebook and twitter are all abuzz with talk of these penguins. There are accusations of homophobia. Gay penguin rights groups have formed. Jokes have been made on late night television. Zoo officials admit there will be separation anxiety. Scientists suggest that one or both of the animals could suffer serious depression from being torn away from each other.

Tom Mason, the zoo's curator of birds says, “But in the long run they’re more important to the population as a whole … these animals are very important to the survival of the species in North America.”

If you believe that an individual penguin's rights supercede what's best for the species, you would probably suggest this pair be left alone. If on the other hand, you feel that it's important to keep these particular penguins from becoming extinct, you probably agree with zoo officials that they should be separated and paired with female penguins. What are your thoughts on this sensitive issue?

Photos taken in Luisenpark, Mannheim, Germany

In Search of Halloween

2011-11-09T03:00:00.011-05:00

"Do they have Halloween here in Germany?" I asked. Then I held my breath remembering that I had packed my "Happy Halloween" shirt and witchy nail stickers.

"Yes, they seem to have adopted yet another piece of foolishness from America. It's been growing in acceptance and has been here for about two years." replied my cousin.

With that information in hand, I set out in search of Halloween in Germany. Here are some of the things I found.

A store window contained a pumpkin and a number of chickens. Nothing says Halloween like chickens.

This restaurant owner made certain all the bases were covered... signs in several languages, orange-ish table cloths and a Jack-o-Lantern.

Interesting menu choices on a pumpkin shape. Yum...pumpkin chili.

Unusual Halloween baking...punschdessert.

And finally, there was the definitive bearded witch.

As much as I tried, I really didn't find a lot of evidence of Halloween. What I found, was something quite different. It was something that I didn't expect. It was something I didn't see, but rather, heard. I heard church bells. Services were being held all over Germany in honour of something more important than Halloween. It was Reformation Day. Yes, I saw a sprinkling of trick or treaters. Yes, there were those individuals who sat at home. There were also many, many people, walking toward churches to celebrate. It was at church on the evening of October 31st that voices joined together and loudly sang, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God". That was how large numbers of people spent Halloween in Germany.

Daring to Make Dampfnudeln

2011-11-08T08:34:00.003-05:00

I remember several meals that my family ate when I was young. My parents didn't have a lot of money, so some of our dinners consisted of cream of wheat and fruit; boiled potatoes and cottage cheese; rice and canned meatballs; salad, eggs and pan fried potatoes; pasta and weinschaum; soup and bread and finally, dampfnudeln with sauce. Sometimes, meals were variations or combinations of the above. Dampfnudeln with weinschaum (wine sauce) were by far my favourite.

"Dampfnudel" (pl. dumpfnudeln) is translated literally as "steamed noodle". It is not a noodle, but rather a type of white bun with a crusty bottom, eaten as a meal or as a dessert in southern Germany. It is cooked in a pan using steam on top of the stove. Then, it is supposed to look like this...with emphasis on "supposed to". These photos were taken at a German bakery just before I consumed their potato soup, dampfnudel and wine special of the day.

Mom did not make the dampfnudeln often. Once or twice a year when she did, they were a special treat. I got the impression that they were a lot of effort, because there seemed to be frequent moans eminating from the kitchen. Besides that, when mom would appear, dampfnudeln in hand, her hair was always curlier than usual and beads of perspiration were visible on her forehead. I learned to cook many things from mom, but I never learned to make dampfnudeln.

While in Germany, I had the opportunity to spend some time with my Tante, mom's sister. I asked her to show me. I wanted to learn how to make both dampfnudeln and the wine sauce although, as an adult, I can't imagine why anyone would want to eat those things together.

It took me half a day to make dampfnudeln. Now I realize why my mother made them infrequently. In fact, she made them about once or twice a year more often than I probably would have. It has also become more clear why she didn't seem interested in teaching me.

First, I needed to translate Tante's recipe from ye olde German. Fortunately, she was able to tell me everything and I wrote down steps in English. I also photographed the stages. Although the ingredients are few, it all required much patience, separate bowls, yeast rising moments, helpful hints and stressful anticipation. When we finally completed the shaped dampfnudeln, they were placed on a floured pan. Then, they were covered yet again and left to rise before putting them in a large pot with some oil, some salt and some water, covered with a lid and left to their own devices for a full 30 minutes.

Several people have told me that the most difficult part is to resist the temptation to lift the lid before the time is up. I was not tempted because by this time, Tante had moved on to demonstrating Weinschaum or as we used to call it "Woi soß ". When she insisted that she did not need my help with this sauce, I began to develop some concern about my dampfnudel making efforts. Oh well, they looked good to me thus far. What could possibly have gone wrong?

Tante made the wine sauce, cornstarch, sugar, wine, cooked until thickened. Put in bowl, mix in two egg yolks. Egg whites whipped until stiff peaks formed then added to and stirred into wine mixture. It was finished in no time. Yummy. Perhaps I should have started with something simpler...like this?

It was finally time. Thirty minutes were up. The grand unveiling of my dumpfnudeln. Despite the fact that making these had never been added to my bucket list, I was excited. I now had another thing to add to my life's accomplishments. I could now brag to my family and friends that I know how to make this delicacy. In fact, I could go back home and make dampfnudeln for company. Yes friends, I did it. Here are my dampfnudeln. I'm proud to say that they look almost exactly like the bakery dampfnudel photos above. Well, almost.

The Challenge of Süssli Technology

2011-11-06T02:57:00.007-05:00

Cyclamate and saccharin, a lethal combo or so we're told. I was recently in Germany. There was no sucralose or stevia to be found. Many kinds of sugar, everything from natural, to cubes, to raw, and kandis. For sweetener, however, I seemed to have one option. This option.

For only a couple of euros, I purchased the container so that I'd have sweetener. I peeled off the blue plastic sealing ring. I tugged, twisted and turned the blue lid. Nothing happened. I was stumped. Despite the fear of splitting my finger nails, I pryed. Still no luck.

I looked at the bottom of the container, imagining some kind of secret. Yes, "Secret", the stick deodorant that you push up from the bottom is what came to mind when I espied some kind of scaffolding underneath the container. Do I push it up? I tried. I pushed. Still no luck.

Push? Push? Could it be? Such a high level of technology on a sweetener cylinder?

I started at square one and tried the obvious. I pressed down on the blue lid. Success! My tea would be tart no more. The tiny tablet popped out of the bottom of the sweetener container. I pressed again, then 3 more times. After all, there were 1200 stück in the container. What could a few or even a few dozen experimental presses matter?

I find it amazing when I think about the mass production and the minimal price of such a thing. I could have pressed the top and watch those little saccharins fall out the bottom all day long. Isn't it great have this much fun with such simple technology? Oh...and yes, I did manage to use a few.

Window or Aisle?

2011-10-26T14:56:00.000-04:00

What type of flyer are you? Are you a window person or an aisle person? I have recently had occasion to travel in an airplane. I booked my ticket and selected my aisle seat. It caused me to wonder. Does anyone ever deliberately book the middle seat? Are there travellers who say " I´d better hurry and book my seat lest I lose out on a chance at the centre." or " I´m travelling alone and I sure hope there´s still a seat available in between two strangers."

To me, the middle is the default seat. It´s the seat where a family puts their kid. It´s the seat where the wife of a couple often sits...her spouse, being either a window or an aisle person. It´s the seat that you get if the aircraft is full and you have not prebooked.

I assume that window people enjoy the view which of course consists mainly of clouds and darkness. They are obviously not too shy to request that a stranger undo his headsets, seatbelts and other paraphernalia. Then go ahead and balance their snacks precariously and fold up trays in order to allow the window person, to visit the facilities.

Aisle people on the other hand, tolerate being rammed by carts, whether they be of the food, duty free, drink or garbage variety. They particularly like it when someone squeezes between their seat and the cart, pulling whatever loose clothing item they are wearing half way up the airplane, only to allow it to shoot back, mishapen, seconds later.

I am an aisle person. My reasons include the following:
     Firstly, an innate need for freedom and not wanting to feel captive between a person and a wall.
     Secondly, being able to visit the tiny toilet at will without having to climb over strangers or ask them to do any of the above mentioned things.
     Finally and most importantly, "FEAR"! I have the crazy notion that were something to happen, I´d be one of the first to follow those lighted aisle floor strips whilst attached to the oxzgen mask and wearing my not yet inflated life vest.

I hate looking outside. I do not want to know how far from the ground I am. What is it about window people that they need to share this information? They would shout things like "Look...the Grand Canyon", and I would of course pretend to be asleep, all the while imagining the now much greater distance between the plane and the ground.

So, recently, as I flew by myself, I lucked out. Nobody had prebooked the middle seat. Shocking! There was an empty space between me and the window person. As I observed him, I learned that some window people have no interest in the view. In fact, he was engrossed in paper work during the whole trip. Some people do not need to budge from their seat...perhaps that´s why he selected the window...not to be disturbed by the aisle person, me, who needed to get up 3 or 4 times during the eight hour flight.

So, what are you? Window person, aisle person OR are you one of the people who sits in the highly covetted centre seat, willingly or not?

Run Fauja, Run

2011-10-17T23:10:00.001-04:00

I enjoyed the movie "Forrest Gump", although I never did quite understand why he did all the running. "I just felt like running", he responded when asked. He ran for three years. One day, he stopped. By then, his hair and beard had grown down to his chest.

Running is solitary. Even when it takes place in a large group, it's an individual activity. For some, this sport seems to be very liberating. For others, covering a prescribed distance in a certain amount of time is considered a major personal achievement. Then there are those who simply enjoy the "runner's high" attained from the rush of endorphins in the body.

There was a brief time when I considered running in a marathon...not a full one, a partial one. It seemed like a worthy goal, something else to add to the list of things I'd done in my lifetime. For a variety of reasons, I lost interest, although I did manage a 5k run. It was just five kilometers, but nonetheless an accomplishment. I was 60 years old at the time and it was January...brrr. It satisfied me. I was done.

I know there are professionals who run in every marathon possible. Some participate in quarter and half marathons for added training or competitive opportunities, although to many, those races are more like a fun run or a walk in the park. How frustrating it must be for the newer competitors who are huffing and puffing to complete a run, as experienced racers zoom past, pushing baby strollers as an added challenge. On the other hand, perhaps it provides them with inspiration...a goal to aspire toward.

According to Wikipedia, there are over 500 marathons that take place in the world each year. The official marathon distance is just over 26 miles or 42 kilometers. Runners travel from far away places to participate in the more prestigious and challenging of these events. The most well recognized North American marathons take place in Boston, New York and Chicago. In fact, shortly after crossing the finish line of the most recent Chicago marathon, one of the runners started having contractions. She gave birth a short time later. Amazing!

Not to be outdone by this very newsworthy event in Chicago, Toronto's recent Waterfront Marathon captured media as well as Guiness Record Book attention. This past weekend, over 20 thousand people from many parts of the world took part in the Toronto marathon. There were olympians and world record holders. There were ordinary citizens, young and old. Among them, was another bearded runner, Fauja Singh. What made him unique was the fact that he was 100 years old, the oldest person ever to complete a marathon run. It is said that he began training and running marathons when he was 80. For some, it's clearly never too late. He completed the Waterfront Marathon in just over 8 hours. Dare I say that there are many half his age who couldn't even stay awake that long?

Appropriately, his participant number was 100.

So this blog is dedicated to Fauja, an inspiration. May he keep on running well into his next century.

***Thanks to R. Piat for the photo of Mr. Singh

Mid to Late October

2011-10-14T19:51:00.002-04:00

I have to say that I love the summer. I enjoy being warm, having barbeques, eating watermelon, drinking beer, wearing minimal clothing and all the rest of what summer brings. Next to the summer, I like the time between Thanksgiving and Halloween the best.

Thanksgiving weekend has just ended. The leaves are changing colour. Orange pumpkins and dried corn husks are bountiful. Fall crops are abundant. The definitive colours are oranges, reds, browns and yellows. Lovely. With each special celebration, I enjoy decorating. I pulled out my "Autumn" bin and spewed seasonal items around my house.

Croton, not crouton

A friend of mine recently said, "I can't believe you have seasonal bins". She should have seen them before I downsized! On my porch, there are scarecrows sitting on a hay bale, a wreath and a lovely plant which I placed outside because of the fall-like colours. I have to be careful of frost but there appears to be no threat of any for awhile. In fact, we have had pretty nice weather.

Thanksgiving in Canada has a long and varied history. Before it became established in its current form, Martin Frobisher celebrated the first Thanksgiving in Newfoundland, in 1578. This was followed by Samuel de Champlain in the early 1600's. Celebrations accompanied by large feasts came about for a variety of reasons....safe travels, wars and rebellions ending and so on.

Some decor such as pilgrim statuettes are more of an American tradition dating back to the arrival of the ship, the Mayflower. On the other hand, many Americans who eventually moved to Canada brought their traditions with them. We have gladly adopted some and melded them with ours.

I'm not certain at what point the cornucopia, or horn of plenty, was added to the Thanksgiving decor mix, but it represents abundance and has become a meaningful part of our celebrations as well.

And finally, the best part of Thanksgiving of course, is getting together with friends and family, remembering those who are no longer with us and being grateful for those who are.

Soon, Halloween will be here. I love Halloween...but that's another topic.

Primitive Designs

2011-10-05T21:14:00.001-04:00

One of the official greeters...the other is an elephant

Four years ago I visited a place called "Primitive Designs". I found it somewhat barn like but nonetheless fascinating. It had unusual and exotic items for sale. I have not had an opportunity for a return visit until this past week. What a surprise to see the expansion and the wonderful, unique items that had been amassed. It is great for photography, beautiful for browsing and fabulous for gift shopping. The furnishings, the art, the sculptures, the pottery, the odds and ends could keep a person entertained for hours. The grounds are filled with totem poles, pottery, statues and more. By more, I mean wildlife....bunnies, chipmunks and the like. Thanks to Rhonda for encouraging people to take photos. It's pretty hard to really "see" it all in one trip. I will definitely be visiting more often after my most recent experience. Here are some of the highlights.

A very small overview of a very overwhelming space

Guardian of all things glittery

Masks, masks and more masks

Gorgeous carved door

They even kept their own teeth and hair.

Wouldn't want to meet him on a dark street.

Hummmmmmmmmmmm....

They even have items for royalty.

Peace and Calm

Jumbo fish for a giant lizard

And finally, amongst the treasures, where's da weal wabbit?

Masses of Monarchs

2011-10-04T23:38:00.003-04:00

"Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you." Nathaniel Hawthorne

Today, I went to the lake with a friend. We took some photos. I know monarch butterflies like milkweed, but was really surprised to see so many butterflies on fragrant flowers. I experimented with some editing effects. How about ye olde fashioned black and white? Same yellow flowers.

And now for the purple posie population of butterflies. I actually think this is some variety of late blooming lilac but I can't be sure. They were very fragrant and monarchs are known to use lilacs as a food source.

I've heard it said that butterflies are considered good luck in Germany. If this is the case, I certainly saw my share of lucky "schmetterling" today. Or perhaps, the luck is in the opportunity to view so many of these lovely flitting and floating creatures.

Simple Minds

2011-09-30T22:39:00.000-04:00

There's a saying "simple things amuse simple minds". I suppose that clearly explains why so many things entertain me. I don't find this to be an offensive quote. In fact, just the opposite, particularly in view of another saying that goes, "only boring people get bored."

I have a cell phone. This is not big news since over two thirds of the population of Canada has cell phones. Many of these technological marvels are much more sophisticated than mine. Doesn't matter. I like mine. I can text and I can talk. That's all I need at this point, although I know my phone has much more untapped potential.

While searching for the volume control recently, I found a "display" feature that amused me. I immediately saved it so that I might view it whenever I wanted to use my phone. It was a monkey sitting on a bench, trees in the background. Monkey did nothing. He just sat. One day, I looked at my phone and saw the monkey's tail move. I stared in disbelief wondering how to get him to do that again. Another day, I noticed a duck swimming back and forth in front of the monkey. And on yet another occasion, there was a city instead of the small forest behind the monkey. Cool !

Monkey on bench, duck in lower foreground

When I left the phone turned on but plugged it in for charging, I made the best discovery of all. A cherry picker type of machine brought a banana, the monkey tilted his head back, opened his mouth and gulped the banana. Wow ! This was far better than a video game. It required no effort and there was no possibility of losing the game. It got even better as the monkey's tummy started displaying signs of having eaten by filling up. I especially enjoyed his facial expressions as he anticipated the arrival of the next banana.

When monkey was finished eating, and the battery was fully charged, he went back to his spot, awaiting the arrival of his bench so that he might rest once again.

There might be some people with phones that have advanced graphics or gaming capabilities who wonder why this entertains me. There might be others who look at me and wonder how much my brain matter has deteriorated since I've retired. I, on the other hand, am simply looking at and being amused by the wonder of that which is a simple thing.

Fall Flies and Friday Frivolity

2011-09-24T18:40:00.003-04:00

They arrive every September, at about the same time as our flowers bloom bountifully, and the lawn is lush. One group annoys us in the kitchen while another keeps us from enjoying our decks and patios. I'm speaking of course of fruit flies and hornets.

I always found Mendel's fruit fly studies really fascinating. I did not, however, enjoy hearing that each female lays 500 eggs...very frequently. Each year as the annoying little insects show themselves, I recall that particular statistic. In an attempt to erradicate our annual fruit fly infestation, I used the dregs of a container of juice to drown them. I've heard that anything yellow, including wine, works. What a waste of wine! The juice seemed to be trapping them quite adequately, although I'm fairly certain, considering their reproduction rate, that I'm not winning the war.

I checked the internet for further information and found someone who actually wrote about a humane way of catching and releasing fruit flies. Are you serious? Who in their right mind would think there aren't enough fruit flies in the world, particularly at the laying rate mentioned above? There are other options...cold temperatures and excessive heat kill them off. I'm not ready for either, so I will do what I always do...wait. Eventually, they disappear although I'm mystified as to where they go. I guess they all just decide to die out one day.

In the meantime, I think of and chuckle at the joke, "Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana". I guess I'd better bake something with those three very ripe bananas in the kitchen.

The weather's been lovely and we have had company on a number of occasions lately. We have been unable to enjoy our deck. The reason? Hornets. They seem to hover in droves at this time of year. Ask any child in a school yard as they innocently attempt to eat their snack at break times.

I tried the tuna, oil, borax and baking soda concoction I've heard about. Apparently, the hornets have also heard about it and stayed away. All I managed to accomplish was to waste tuna while creating a massive stink. It also piqued the interest of a few houseflies. Just what I need!

I noticed that we have no hummingbirds around our feeder, only wasps and hornets. Seeing that, I devised a new plan...."like a bee to honey" as the saying goes, had to work for hornets as well. I had a bit of honey left. At first, I just left the open container outside. It's amazing how they can squeeze in through the tiniest hole. But of course, they never get back out. Then, being somewhat sadistic, I decided I wanted a better look. I used a jam jar, put in a bit of honey, covered it with cello wrap and poked a small hole. It worked. They congregated inside...and stayed.

One full day later, the jar looks like this. I'm not sure whether I'm making progress in getting rid of them, or whether I'm just attracting hornets from the entire neighbourhood. At what point do I give up? When the jar is full? Or do I give up when they do?

Missing Blogs...Updated Digs

2011-09-23T21:29:00.003-04:00

There are a few activities that keep me from blogging. These include travel, opportunities for new experiences and/or adventures, fun with friends, assorted hobbies and being home alone. This past week, it was the latter. I was left to my own devices. Hubby has figured out that there's usually some surprise every time he gets back from a trip. Here's the most recent.

Our bedroom is small and has been drab, beige and out of date. I decided to remedy this situation. I did nothing too drastic. The wall colour I selected was based on hubby's opinion as "nice". I made my decor choices using two criteria. As mentioned, the paint shade had prior approval. I needed a co-ordinating colour so I checked some home decor magazines and finally, the colour wheel. I know you're supposed to select colours that are generally opposite on the wheel.

Another criteria which I have recently heard intrigued me. When you want two colours in a room and can't decide which two to put together, think of the colours on fruit and vegetables. It works. So...here is my veggie choice.

Although I would have preferred the aubergine as an accent wall behind the bed, I decided to stick with a lighter shade of "Shrek green" and use the eggplant shade for accessories.

After I mentioned on facebook, that I "made a mess" friends commented and requested photos. It didn't occur to me to take any pictures until that point, so here goes. This is more of a "during" rather than a before shot.

I had to work in tight spaces and figure out how to move heavy furniture by myself.

I have now managed to reassemble everything and am fairly pleased with the results. A few things are still going to be done. I'm planning on painting a mural for over the bed and replacing a cheval mirror with a wall mounted one. A small perfume cabinet needs to be repainted to match the furniture and added to the wall decor. I like it a lot and hope hubby does too. And yes, I still had time left this week to spend with friends.

White, Green and Aubergine!

Frauds and Scams

2011-09-10T15:05:00.008-04:00

I usually hang up on these people. This guy was a little more convincing. He talked fast and gave me a deadline of a few hours before my computer would crash and no longer be protected. I stayed calm. I asked for a name and telephone number. I noted the time 1:02 p.m.

My name is "Mike Wilson" he announced. I don't think so, my brain told me. The accent was clearly not that of a Mike Wilson. Then he gave me a microsoft telephone number beginning with the area code "209"....California. "I'm calling from microsoft headquarters in Redmond, Washington," he said. I have since looked up the number he gave me (209) 753-4864 Landline Likely Location: California (Angels Camp) Calaveras County. That was Red Flag #1. When I looked up the number from which he actually phoned, the "unknown name" call came from (253) 802-0308 Landline Likely Location: Washington (Auburn) Seattle-Tacoma metro area, King County. I hesitated, although I know for a fact that microsoft has a 1-888, 1-877 and 1-866 numbers (looked it up while he was talking). I have heard that some calls can be rerouted from such countries as...oh...let's say India, through U.S. lines.

"Your computer has been hacked by someone in China. It has been used to transfer funds from different accounts. We will have to call the cops immediately if you don't respond and do as we ask right now. Click on the windows sign on the bottom left and go to computer." Red Flag #2 - Representatives of a legitimate company calling police officers "cops"? I don't think so.

"How do I know that you're legitimate? You could be anyone phoning. Why have I received no other information regarding this?" I asked.

"We notified you on your computer many times. You didn't respond."

My brain starts to think. Could be I suppose. I don't pay attention to everything that comes up.

"I don't think so. I have anti virus and firewalls and all that stuff. Perhaps I'll call the number you gave me later and see." I suggested.

"Oh no ma'am...you must act right now. Your computer is not protected. It has been hacked. You will lose all your data in a couple of hours. Your info is out there and is being used for illegal purposes. We will be calling the cops as soon as you hang up."

"Thanks Mike, go ahead. I'd like to talk to them."

"Wait, you don't understand this is urgent. You must act now. I will connect you with my supervisor. Here he is."

So then the "supervisor" got on the phone...same accent. I requested his name...Shelton Valentine. Right. I received the same spiel and was told I could purchase an updated security for $390. Seemed odd. I didn't think it was necessary to purchase this from microsoft every three years. Besides, my computer is only 2 years old. Red Flag #3

I told them I'd get back to them later, after speaking with my husband and hung up. I researched further. I found the following article describing my exact situation and microsoft's advice.

http://www.microsoft.com/Presspass/press/2011/jun11/06-16MSPhoneScamPR.mspx

I contacted the police to find out how to proceed. They gave me the phone number for the Canada anti-fraud centre. I discovered that they also have a website. http://www.antifraudcentre.ca/ I clicked on this site and found this headline and info.

Scams of the week

Anti-Virus Scams

WARNING:Your computer may be infected by a virus. Take preventative action now!

"Allowing someone to remotely access your computer is extremely dangerous and can leave you vulnerable to a variety of frauds. If a service provider calls and offers to upgrade your computer's anti-virus software, be extremely cautions. It's most likely a scam..."

The website is one with which every Canadian should be familiar. I am relieved that I did not allow anyone to access my computer, that I didn't make changes on my computer or give out any info on the phone. I shall report this incident when the fraud centre office is open on Monday. Mostly, I'm glad that my computer has not been hacked by some evil foreign powers who are using it to illegally transfer funds.

My Zumba Shirt Creation

2011-09-07T21:40:00.000-04:00

One of my favourite new physical activities is Zumba. When I first went to this particular class at my gym, it was advertised as follows. "Ditch the Workout, Join the Party!" It attracted my interest. Fun is the name of the game and what can be better than singing, dancing, moving and acting foolish in dim lighting, while burning hundreds of calories?

At first, I wore a baggy t-shirt, track pants and running shoes. I have since learned that anyone who shows up in an outfit like that, is clearly a newbie. The more times I participate, the more "zumba-like" my clothing is becoming. I acquired the essential shoes fairly quickly (see post "Hip Hop Hilde" April 9, 2011). Recently, I decided that my shorts were too baggy so I shopped for some Lululemon crops, similar to bike shorts. I needed to complete my new look...flourescent socks and a zumba shirt. After doing a bit of research, here's a quick summary what this crazy lady created.

I dug out an old shirt. I used a plate to make semi circles on each side and I cut slits toward the centre of the shirt.

Then I cut the back of the shirt in a diamond pattern...small, bigger, smaller cuts and slit each sleeve...no reason, just felt like it...ease of movement. I cut off the collar and a chunk of the front and added a few slits.

Next, I wove the back once, didn't like it, so I wove it a second time. Weaving consisted of lifting one strip over the next and so on.

I double knotted the strips on the sides of the shirt.

The finished product looks like this. I particularly like the back. Not bad for my first effort. I just know my hips will shimmy faster and my zumba arms and legs will fly higher now that I have an official outfit.

Starry, Starry Night...

2011-09-05T21:31:00.007-04:00

My friend recently showed me her new "Samsung" cell phone with all its features. Suddenly, a photo of Vincent Van Gogh's painting, "Starry Nights", popped up on her screen. I noticed it immediately as it brought back a few memories.

I remember viewing my first real Van Gogh work at an art gallery. It was one of his landscapes, a farm painting. I didn't always appreciate this particular artist, until I saw one of his pieces close up. The lines and strokes were fantastic and intricate. When viewed from a short distance away, the combined brush strokes created a masterpiece.

While teaching in later years, I had the idea that it wouldn't hurt to expose 4 and 5 year olds to more sophisticated levels of art, poetry and music. I thought, why not broaden their awareness during the "formative years" when the bulk of their learning as humans takes place? I was fortunate to be able to acquire a few childrens' art books, stories and calendar reproductions during one of my own gallery visits. These helped me with my presentations. It was great to have some resources to which these very young children could relate.

I taught them a little about a number of artists, but they seemed particularly interested in Vincent Van Gogh. Perhaps it was the flow of the name which they seemed to enjoy repeating over and over. "Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh." When we looked at a picture of his sunflowers they tried to reproduce it, as a group, in mural form. I had pre-sketched the blooms and it became a paint by numbers type exercise which gave them some idea as to the intricacies of his work. When they each wanted to create their own "Van Gogh", I gave them an simple outline of "Starry Nights" and some pastels. Many did a wonderful job combining the blues and golds in their pictures.

Some time later, I remember reading the class a story. It was about a group of children going on a field trip to a farm. The illustrations were simple, appealing and cartoon like. When I turned a page, one of my students, Alex, piped up saying, "That picture's just like starry nights". This was one of my fondest teaching memories. Alex, had made a connection. After all, that's what learning is all about, making connections. He noted that one of the illustrations had the stars and swirls in the sky very similar in style to Van Gogh's "Starry Nights". Fantastic! I hadn't even realized it myself.

Since that time, I have become more observant. Thanks to Alex, I have been seeing "Starry Nights" everywhere...on dishes, on note cards, on jewellery, on a poster advertising the movie "Midnight in Paris", on my friend's new phone and on youtube.

Thanks to Don McLean, who wrote this haunting song, "Starry, Starry, Night" about a creative, sad, yet important life.

*** Added Comments - I always print my blog and insert the pages into a three ring binder. As I did that this evening, I noticed that the cover of my 2011 blog binder has on it a rather lovely reproduction of "Starry Night." I had forgotten that. Also, feel free to ignore or click off the ad for "Chinese lady for dating" that appears when viewing the youtube selection. That is of course, unless you are interested.

What I Think....Book & Movie

2011-09-03T09:26:00.003-04:00

As a child, I remember hearing things on the news. I heard the terms riots, Klu Klux Klan, civil rights, beatings and murders. I had no idea what exactly was happening, but I knew instinctively that there was something seriously wrong. I became more aware of the issues, worse in some parts of the south, as a teen. Then came the shocking assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968.

In my "almost" adult years, I had a doctor whose secretary had a distinctly southern accent. One day, I asked her about it. She said she and her husband had moved to Canada from the U.S. I inquired whether there was any particular reason and she responded, "My husband is black." I looked at her quizzically wondering how this could possibly be an adequate explanation. I was still young. Eventually I learned. I realized how serious and unbelievable circumstances were during my generation.

This summer, I read the book, "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. It describes life in Jackson, Mississippi during the 60's through the eyes of black maids who worked for wealthy families. I found it rivetting, insightful and disturbing. It's hard to believe that the story was rejected 60 times before it was finally published, only to become a New York Times best seller. This was different from my normal reading fare. I'm glad I picked it up and I highly recommend it.

The plot centres around several black maids who were asked by one young woman, an aspiring author and member of a group of wealthy, educated white friends, to risk their lives by telling their stories. The request was that they describe their treatment by the families for which they worked. They hesitated at first, fearing retribution. Despite their fears, one by one they came onboard with the idea.

When the movie version was to be released, I was worried. I have rarely seen a well done film version of a book. Then, I read some reviewer comments and saw previews which suggested that the story was a comedy. How could this be? How could they make light of such a serious topic? I finally went to find out for myself. I was surprised to discover that the movie was extremely well done and followed the story closely. Of course, there were liberties taken and there were omissions of details, as is necessary when shortening a lengthy novel to two viewing hours. This did not, however affect the overall content. There were humourous incidents, but the story was presented seriously. The acting was superb. It fully described the snobbishness and the manipulations of the weak by those who considered themselves superior. It showed the attempts by one woman to improve her status and the struggles by a newbie to the community who just wanted to belong. Then of course, it showed the maids, their lives, their work and their child rearing expertise. It demonstrated forms of racism and abuse tolerated by the black community in order to retain their menial jobs. The maids, were in fact more down to earth, loving, understanding and competent than many of their employers.

My only criticism would be that the movie didn't fully present the frightening aspects and the danger of the meetings. The sneaking around and the lengths taken by the author and the maids to maintain secrecy were much more intense in the book than in the movie.

I am rarely interested in attending a movie twice. I would go to see this one again. The first time, I was so engrossed in the acting and the story, that I didn't get to enjoy the efforts by the filmaker to replicate life in the 60's. Part way through the film, I noticed the background details. I saw a box of the all too familiar "Breeze" laundry detergent used by my mom when I was a child. I'm certain that there are more props that I would like to see and reminisce about. It's a strange reason to go to a movie a second time, but nonetheless, I would.

I think the main message of the story is obvious. People are people. The maids wanted was what everyone wants. They wanted to improve their conditions, feel safe and make life better for their own children.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle or Just Mutant Cake?

2011-08-27T08:28:00.012-04:00

For the last two years, my son has asked me to make him a cake. Seems like no big deal, except that he's allergic to dairy products. He didn't want just any cake. He requested a chocolate, Ninja Turtle Cake decorated with either Raphael or Casey Jones. After two years of thinking about it from time to time, I have made a decision. It's his birthday. He will finally have his cake.

I couldn't promise a professional job. In fact, I couldn't promise much of anything except my best effort. Last night, I watched a t.v. programme. Pastry chefs were building cakes. One collapsed. Even they experience failure.

I have researched decorating techniques and I've even had a mini fondant lesson from one of the employees at Bulk Barn. It was then that I decided to avoid fondant. Besides, the accessories alone would have cost me more than the price of a professional tiered wedding cake. I also decided not to use the Ninja Turtle pan which was available for rent. I couldn't see myself dotting an entire cake with little squeezes of icing in a variety of colours. My idea was this. I would make a round cake, make the top look like a pizza and make a Raphael figurine to sit on top...or maybe at the side.

The chocolate cake was the easy part...or so I thought. Real cocoa contains no dairy. Vegetable shortening is a substitute for butter. The 35 minute baking time suggested in the recipe was inaccurate. I used up a box of toothpicks testing the cake which baked for over an hour. I was tired.

As I looked at the cakes, I wished my son had asked for a lunar landing or perhaps a volcano cake. I had created two uneven cratered slabs of carbs, sugar and fat. They smelled good, but they looked like this.

After they cooled, I cut the top off one to even it and used it as the bottom layer. I sliced the other in half and filled both layers with some icing tinted with cocoa. The cake was still crooked.

I created white frosting and covered the whole cake. Then I made a pizza on top....a Ninja Turtle staple....pepperoni, cheese, black olives, green peppers...passable.

Finally, I built Raphael out of marzipan and painted him. He will hopefully remain upright although the toothpick has become my new best friend. I might have to use one to attach him to the cake. I also reinforced his head with a toothpick but noticed his shell appeared to be shrinking and that his body was developing a bit of an incline as the food colouring "paint" dried.

This is what the cake looked like finished. I even transported it to my son's and it remained intact. Despite the fact that hubby said my turtle looks like the Koodo telephone guy, I think my effort is respectable.

The cake was a success and tasted excellent. I have decided I'd like to take a cake decorating course. Perhaps I can even unlock the mystery of fondant.

In Then Out

2011-08-25T21:21:00.009-04:00

Yesterday, I had occasion to go to the hospital for an activity involving hoses, cameras and my gastrointestinal system...a minor procedure. Hubby deposited me at the front door and promised to meet me back at the gazebo outside in a few hours.

After being questioned in admissions and completing some routine forms, I made my way to the requisite third floor. While I sat in a hallway awaiting my "turn", I noticed that at some point, I had received a wrist band with my name and personal details printed on it. Odd...I had no memory of that. Several other folks were waiting and sharing horror stories so I decided to read my book...impossible to do when people are speaking loudly and animatedly about their lobbed off limbs and their friend who fell into a cement mixer. I finally gave up staring at the same page and looked eagerly toward an arriving orderly. Yayyy...my turn.

I was escorted by the very friendly orderly to my superior government guest room. As he pulled the curtain around my bed so that my 3x5 living space would be separated from the half dozen others, he announced. "Take off your outer clothing and put on this gown and booties. If you want to leave your pants on it's ok. Put everything you remove into this plastic bag." Hmmm...I've seen larger produce bags in the grocery store.

I followed instructions and was no sooner ready than a scowling nurse with a computer on wheels flew through my curtain.

Her: "Have you had intravenous before?"
Me: "Yehhh....owwww" as a needle and hoses were rammed into my hand and a clip was attached to my finger before my answer was complete.
Her: "How many surgeries have you had?"
Me: "One Ingrid, one Warren, and two knees.
Her: "Do you have any false teeth, crowns, bridges, use a cane, wheelchair, walker, hearing aids, do you have missing or artificial parts, implants, piercings, tattoos, scars?"
Me: "I have thinning hair."
Her: "Have you had any of the following diseases....MRSA, VRE or ESBL?
Me: "I don't know what those are."
Her: "Then you haven't had them. When was the last time you ate or drank?"
Me: " Last night at 7 p.m. except for a sip of water when I was choking during the night."
Her: (looking horrified) "You drank water?"
Me: "Just a sip. I was choking."
Her: " You drank water? I hope you took off your pants and put them in the bag."

My bed was then driven into a hallway where I was given a warm blanket prior to being wheeled further into a surgical facility. An elderly anaesthesist with a strange hat, an English accent and a scary smirk then sprayed cherry juice into my throat, rendering my tongue, mouth and lips numb. I caught a glimpse of my doctor. A mouth guard was inserted between my teeth...then....

I woke up with a cup of cranberry juice in my hand and a request that I get dressed.

"Who's coming to get you?" I was asked.

"I'm meeting my husband at the gazebo." I responded.

"No, you can't leave. Someone has to come get you."

The orderly came to the rescue once again. He deposited me into a wheelchair, gave me what appeared to be a tour of the hospital and eventually drove me to the front door. "What does your husband's car look like?"

"Toyota...gray...I managed with my still numb mouth."

Fortunately he was able to pick out the right one from the fleet of silver vehicles and thus flagged down the correct husband.

Another eventful day in my life.

I'm A Great Big Orange and I Won't Apologize For It!

2011-08-22T08:41:00.002-04:00

I once had a wonderful instructor who taught university classes designed to update and upgrade our teaching skills. He gave us a number of personality tests and during one of these sessions he spoke about the general population, specific characterisitics, career groups and "norms".

With each new test, he would chuckle, look at me and shake his head. I became concerned. It didn't appear to be a malicious look. He would then go on to discuss the results with the group. What he said sounded much like this, "Many people are balanced with an equal number of characteristics in each of the four categories of the graph. Some have the bulk of their traits in 3 of 4 categories. Then there's the odd one, who has most of HER characteristics almost exclusively in one quadrant, with only a sprinkling in the other three areas." Again, I got "the look" out of the corner of his eye. My worst fear was soon realized. I was "HER". In my perception, this labelled me as some kind of weirdo global thinker, with an uneven, distorted graph and no potential as a successful human. I was embarassed. I wanted to sink into my chair and disappear. I viewed this result as a major personal flaw.

One test that springs to mind is the colour personality test where we found ourselves classified as green, blue, gold or orange. My classmates generally fell into the first three categories. A large percentage were "gold" as are many teachers we were told. Gold personalities are organized, sequencial and task oriented.

I was "orange". After explaining the fairly normal traits of the first three colours, along with their optimal career choices, the instructor came to "orange". "Only about one in one hundred people is classified as orange. In fact, we have only one in this class", he said, once again smiling my way.

I soon learned that "oranges" are presumed different. A few characteristics of these people include: thinking outside the box, creativity; being adventurous, being light hearted, agreeable and flamboyant; thriving on human social contact, socializing and planning events; tolerant and accepting of others just the way they are; a free spirit who doesn't like to be tied down; living life based on instinct; always looking toward the next challenge or next great adventure; determined, competitive, restless and impatient with others who do not have this need; preferring to explore the outer world rather than inner world.

So far, it doesn't sound too bad does it? Well, here are the rest of the qualities, or lack thereof.

Housekeeping may not be that important (See June 13, 2010 blog, "Dust Bunnies Are Perfect for Making Whimsical Table Centrepieces ); loves having fun and doesn't like the mundane, monotonous, repetitious; impatient; indecisive (my preferred expressions are "it doesn't matter" and "I don't care" because generally, it doesn't and I don't); inconsistent and unpredictable; practical joker; self centred (can't help it I'm an only child); undisciplined; ignoring rules and deadlines (too busy being creative and living life); lacking structure, and finally, impulsive. There seem to be a lot of "in", "im" and "un" prefixes there.

Over the years, I have learned to celebrate my unique orangeness and have tried to compensate for many of my orange shortcomings. I make lists and calendars, much as a gold personality type would automatically do. I leave cues for myself around the house as a visual reminder of an action that needs to be taken or work that isn't complete. I do not enjoy these strategies, but realize that in order for me to be a functional human, they need to be taken. I do the best I can.

I've changed as much as I plan to in these 60 years and I find it stressful to remember to do what many people do automatically. In fact, I was pleased to be able to "loosen up" and revert to my natural self after retirement.

Currently, I am sitting in the midst of what some would consider chaos. I emptied and vacuumed the kitchen drawers. While doing that, I remembered that I needed to water the plants. I attended to the plants, and then realized I had forgotten to put water into my CPAP machine. I headed for the basement to get distilled water and wandered into my office to check on some documents. The garbage pail was overflowing so I picked it up to take to the trash. On my way, I opened the garage door, then took the water to the bedroom. I looked in the closet for something to wear. I rejected a few items and tossed them on the bed. As I went to brush my teeth, I realized that the bathroom needed some attention and I cleaned the sink. Remembering the garbage, I left the cleaning materials and headed for the open garage with the trash. When I returned, I checked my email and decided to write a blog. And so it goes...not one room is completely tidy at the moment. It will all be done later today. What's my hurry? I'm retired.

Oh, and lest I forget, what happened with all the courses I was taking? I got high marks, upgraded my standing and the instructor hired me to work for him. It turned out that I was not flawed at all. I was in fact, unforgettable and fabulous!

Wedding Weekend

2011-08-19T11:43:00.001-04:00

Recently we had occasion to attend a wedding in the "Big Apple"...not at the roadside attraction on the highway near here, but the real Big Apple, New York City. The wedding was lovely. We had a great time partying with family and friends.

Although the wedding was the main part of our weekend adventure and reason for our trip, there were other things I found amusing if not entertaining. For example, as we went through the Holland Tunnel, I noticed that the GPS showed us driving down the river. Seemed like a photo op to me. What can I say? I find odd things funny, although I doubt that those who are stuck in the tunnel traffic each day find it very humorous.

At the rehearsal dinner, the subject of the "Ghostbusters" firehall came up. This firehall was part of a movie from the 80's. People with sons born during that decade will definitely remember the nightmare of trying to locate the highly sought after themed toys associated with the movie. We found out that the original firehall was located right across the street. I rushed out to get some photos before dark. "Who you gonna call?".........

Of course, when one is in New York City, it's always good to become familiar with some of the upcoming styles and newest trends in fashion. I like to call these photos "Is Less More?" and "Where's Waldo?"

We enjoyed a trip to Staten Island and found a lovely park. Then we rode the ferry to Manhattan and back, and Adam was overjoyed when we located pizza and Italian ice for lunch.

As we left the city, I looked up "attractions" on the GPS along our route and came across "The Headless Horseman Bridge". Could it be? Then we saw the following road sign. "Yayyyyyy....let's go there." I love spontaneity. The best adventures are often the result.

The photos which follow are pictures of the town of Sleepy Hollow, NY. It is historic, scenic and has a lot to see and do. It was a great afternoon adventure. I even saw a deer and two fawns at the famed cemetery. I was so startled I forgot to take a picture.

Lutherans and Other Earthly Deposits

2011-08-11T19:50:00.000-04:00

***My Day - Dedicated to hubby and our northern friends

My day began like any other. I got out of bed, made sure I was adequately dressed, walked and fed the dog, emptied the dishwasher and made breakfast. Wait, let me correct that. I should say, my day began the way hubby's normally does.

This was followed by more routine, making the bed, emptying the dryer, creating a list of 500 things which I hope to accomplish this week, checking email to find out the latest facebook frenzy. After commenting on the all important Brett Lawrie grand slam along with other Jays fans, I typed a blog heading.

I was planning to see the movie version of a best selling novel entitled, "The Help". I decided in advance that this book would be ruined in movie form. This seems to be the case with many adapted screenplays. Since I had already made up my mind, I was able to begin my review. First few sentences written, off I went to the movie theatre.

On my way home, I collected my "Teacher Appreciation" freebies at Staples, checked the mail, walked the dog and went outside where I picked up tomatoes off ground, removed branches that had been snapped by yesterday's wind, watered plants and pulled out a few weeds.

I sat down to relax and view the end of the Blue Jays game. Sadly, I realized that it had ended much earlier...around the third inning from what I could gather. When the dog leapt onto my lap, she left a brown slimey deposit on my legs and clothing. Although I agreed with her assessment of the game, I decided it was time for both of us to have a shower. How is it that little clean feet can leave such large muddy footprints on a cream coloured bath mat?

I thought I might want to have a short nap prior to Zumba class, so I brought the dog's bed in next to mine and we both fell asleep...for about 5 minutes. That's when the doorbell rang and the barking began.

Two young men in dark suits, ties and very cleanly scrubbed, pink faces stood at the door attempting to talk as the dog barked in my left ear. I determined that they were not meter readers or salesmen of the usual ilk.

"We have come to talk to you about "family". Is family important in your life?" asked one young man as he stared into the lower corner of our porch.

Thinking about my abbreviated snooze and the yapping dog, I decided to mess with their heads. "Hmmm....let me think on that one for a minute."

They looked startled and panicked by my hesitation.

"Pardon my sluggishness, I was just having a nap," I responded. "Yes, family is important."

Looking relieved, the same young man still peering into the concrete corner, continued. "Well, we want to bring you a message. Are you interested?"

I craned my neck to see what he was looking at...crib notes? a spider? our stepstool bench?

"Thanks, we have our own faith and church that we attend," I answered, hoping that my psychic ability which suggested that the young men were Mormons was indeed accurate. The rest of the conversation went something like this.

Boy A - "We're not here to knock any other religion or anything, but do you mind if we ask what church you belong to? "

Me - "We are Lutheran." (Insert two round, pink, clean shaven boy faces, staring with mouthes agape here)

Boy A - "Wow, that's really something."

Boy B - Nodding in agreement and staring at my obvious green skin and horns. "I've never met a Lutheran before".

Boy A - "I have, my mother knew one once and they were actually friends."

They thanked me and left although I noted that they kept looking over their shoulders on their way down our path.

I decided I didn't want to go to Zumba tonight. I am writing blogs, and looking up Martin Luther quotes. First, I saw one about a dog and a little golden tail. Then I found this one. "Let the wife make the husband glad to come home, and let him make her sorry to see him leave."

Dreams, Dream Scenes and Dream Themes

2011-08-03T11:52:00.000-04:00

It's strange isn't it? You wake up in the middle of the night with a story in your head. Sometimes, it makes sense, but usually it's just odd. You're certain that you'll remember. "There's no way I'll forget that one," you think. The next morning comes. You know you had an unusual dream. You wrack your brain, but nothing comes back. Once in awhile, you're lucky, or unlucky, whichever the case may be and there it is, front and centre. You repeat it to someone, your spouse or children, for example. It sounds ridiculous as you vocalize it, when in fact, it seemed to make sense in the silence and darkness, several hours earlier.

Last night, I had a vivid dream. I woke up. My body ached and was so sore that I felt as though I had run a marathon. I was momentarily alert, then drowsy again. "Perhaps I should write it down," I thought."Naw, I'll remember," I said to myself as I nodded back off to dreamland, unwilling to make the effort.

There was a stretch of time in my life when I didn't sleep well. I was a single parent to two young children. Just as I began to get a bit more rest, they reached their teen years. When I was able to nod off, I found that I had many stress or work related dreams. I finally kept a note pad by the bed to jot down thoughts and ideas during the night. I also wrote down my dreams. On some occasions, what I had written made sense, other times, my scribblings were illegible. Once, I dreamt up an entire school musical complete with a singing watering can and dancing carrots. The seemingly absurd came to fruition and was fabulous!

Last night's dream was one that actually stayed with me. I was in a "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" type of elevator going this way and that way until it finally flipped over, spilling the occupants onto the rooftop of a skyscraper. The wind howled and we grabbed hold of things grasping as best we could, while trying to crawl along the roof and away from the strong squall. Odd. After that, I was running around with a comedic looking large animal that resembled a green rubber version of Bulbasaur from Pokemon. I realized that I wasn't afraid of it but rather, that it wanted to play with me. Ok, so my dreams are a bit immature.

I tried to figure out why I was so sore. Hanging on for dear life, crawling around on a roof or chasing a large cartoon animal could do it, if these things had happened in real life. But in a dream? I wondered whether our muscles react and simulate movement in our dreams even though we might be motionless, thus creating the aches and pains which I experienced. This required further research.

I learned that in fact the opposite of my theory was true. I am not describing any type of sleep disorder here, just normal REM sleep. Apparently while people are in this state, they experience a muscle paralysis. This prevents bodily movement that could be dangerous while sleeping and dreaming. In fact, all voluntary muscle activity stops. That too explains the aches. Laying still or in any one position for a length of time can definitely result in pain.

I don't think I needed to interpret my dream beyond the obvious...last night's rustling wind, a future trip to New York City and running around playing with Amber the dog. What I do need to do, however, is some stretching, walking and bending to try to alleviate my residual REM soreness. Now if only my dream had been about something worth the pain!

Carrying Coals to Newcastle

2011-07-31T22:37:00.003-04:00

I remember reading that one of our Canadian clothing designers, Linda Lundstrom, went bankrupt by trying to keep all her production in Canada. Then one afternoon a few months ago, as I worked at my volunteer job at the hospital thrift shop, an original three piece gold coloured Lundstrom pant suit arrived.... in my size. I immediately laid claim to the ensemble. For a mere $25, I picked up a stylish and stunning Canadian made formal outfit valued at close to four digits and suitable for wearing to my next red carpet gala event. I was thrilled as I stashed my find in the closet. I was also saddened, knowing that this label was now extinct.

I have heard that Germany has a strong economy because of their industry and manufacturing. Most of the items sold in Germany are in fact made in...Germany. How alien is this concept to people like us who love nothing better than to get our bargains? Most of our discounted treasures however, are made in countries that are able to manufacture items with cheap materials and inexpensive labour. Many of our Canadian companies are having their wares produced further afield in order to keep prices in line with the competition.

I recently needed to purchase a new dress for a wedding, so I decided that I would try to buy something Canadian. Since the wedding is in Manhattan on a Saturday night, I wanted something unique. I wanted something unfamiliar in New York. I wanted something affordable. I wanted something I could wear often. This time, a Value Village sale was not going to satisfy my fashion requirements.

I sought out reasonably priced Canadian designs and stumbled across some unusual, multifunctional outfits from a Vancouver based company called "Simpli". I then made up my mind that nothing but the Simpli V-necked sleeveless dress with the uneven hem, plus a small covering jacket would do for the wedding. Besides, Simpli clothes were made of some kind of miracle fabric that could be rolled into a ball and tossed in a suitcase without wrinkling. I then toured several stores in a futile attempt to locate this particular dress. First, I discovered that the fabric was some type of knit, fairly heavy, not suitable for a New York summer, but possibly more for a Canadian winter. Then I learned that any colour other than black, which seemed to be what all the stores carried, would require 4-6 weeks for delivery. My disappointment resulted in procrastination.

This week, I was under pressure. With only a few dress hunting days remaining, I went to a well known boutique-like clothing store in a small town not too far from here. Most of what I tried on either didn't meet my body covering requirements, made the saleslady guffaw in laugher, or was too ugly to wear beyond the privacy of the change room curtain. I finally found a two piece purple crepe number which met my criteria...stylish, interesting uneven hemline, no obvious bulges, small covering jacket, not black. Below is the dress. That's not me in it.

Purple dress is a much lighter, prettier colour in real life

In my desperation, it did not occur to me to ask about or look at the label. When I got home, I "Googled" the tag, "Ursula of Switzerland", to see what I would be transporting to Manhattan.

"Ursula of Switzerland...a New York based company with a showroom on Broadway." Thanks Google.

Perhaps I just ought to wear my $25 Linda Lundstrom Canadian treasure to the wedding.

Vegas for Mummies...and others

2011-07-24T21:47:00.000-04:00

View from our room

I just returned from a trip to Las Vegas. I have been there a number of times before. It is affordable and entertaining. I took my daughter for a graduation/birthday gift.

It seems that with every trip, I see and learn something new. Then, each time I return, I only remember half of what I had previously discovered. Sometimes, it's because of the many changes that take place in this ever expanding city. Other times, it's just because I forgot.

It occurred to me that by writing down my collective thoughts, impressions, ideas and discoveries, that I might recall some things for my next visit. That is, if I can actually remember to re-read this blog.

My main Las Vegas helpful hints are...NEVER pay full price for anything. Be aware. There are always deals, vouchers, coupons, 2 for 1 tickets and so on. They require only a bit of research to locate. Also, it never hurts to ask. I inquired at the hotel upon check in whether there were any discounts for food, drinks etc. and was given two bar vouchers worth $30.

Lesson #1 - Hotel Selection
If you can afford a bit more, try to avoid the old and decrepit...hotels that is. I have stayed at several such locales which were imploded soon afterward (Aladdin, New Frontier), a few that haven't been (Circus,Circus, Imperial Palace, Caesar's Palace...great historic hotel with many upgrades and new tower additions) and at least one that should have been (see Tripadvisor link below). For single moms, with minimal funds they were fine. No expectations, no complaints.

Last year, I was upset about our hotel. I not only complained, but wrote a tripadvisor review to warn others. The hotel in question sent me an offer of an upgraded room if I returned. My philosophy is that an upgraded room in a dump, makes it no less of a dump. See http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g45963-d91844-r57989536-Flamingo_Hotel_Casino-Las_Vegas_Nevada.html for details.

This trip, I selected the MGM Grand. It has 6.6 acres of property around the pools, a monorail station and a lion compound. I thought the lions would be a big hit with my daughter. They were. The MGM is not a super exclusive hotel, but it was nice, clean, had a friendly, efficient, helpful staff who quickly checked us in, providing us with a non smoking room on a non smoking floor. The view was good too. As was previously mentioned, I inquired about coupon books and discounts and was handed two $15 drink vouchers.

One thing to keep in mind. Some hotels charge a "resort fee". I'm not too clear on what this is, but it can range from $10-$25 a person per day. This is tacked onto your credit card when checking out. Be aware when selecting a hotel. Travel books usually specify if the hotel has such a fee. There are many that specifically advertise "No resort fee".

Lesson #2 - Transportation
Airport Shuttles
There is a stand near the luggage carousel when exiting the airport. It offers return shuttle fare because hotel transfers are not included. This is ok except that it brings you back to the aiport very early prior to flight time. We opted to sleep an extra hour, and take a taxi both ways to and from the airport. Since we left at 7:45 a.m., taxis were readily available at the front of the hotel. It cost us $10 one way by cab from the MGM Grand, one of the closer hotels to the airport.

Taxis
These can be found everywhere. People line up in a designated area outside hotels where the bellman will whistle for a taxi. These are plentiful and are just waiting at the end of the driveway. Evenings are busier times for taxis. They can get costly if used exclusively.

Rental Cars
I have not rented a car. I noted a long lineup for rentals at the airport. I think renting is fine if you plan to leave town and tour the vicinity eg. Hoover Dam, Grand Canyon, Lake Mead etc. For transportation along the strip, I would not rent a car. Traffic seems chaotic, congested and confusing. I don't know much else except that I have no idea where one parks.

Monorail
This is a fast way to travel and we used it one time to get from one hotel to another where we went to see a show. For one ride it cost $5. A three day pass is $30. I don't think it's value for the money. The monorails connect a few hotels.

The Deuce
There are two kinds of buses. One is long and looks like two buses connected by an accordian in the middle. It is the express bus and makes fewer stops than the double decker deuce. The double decker makes frequent stops and is often crowded. We found that upstairs almost always had seats so we would get on and head through the crowd and upstairs. There are ticket machines along Las Vegas Blvd. Often, there are transit personnel to help tourists. Two hours on the bus costs $7 and I really don't see a use for such a ticket. We got a 3 day pass for $20 and it was well worth it.

Walking
Everything on Las Vegas Blvd. (the strip) is farther than expected and because of the flat land, distances are deceiving. Some hotels are blocks and blocks long. Many people walk on concrete sidewalk areas to get to shopping, attractions and other hotels. It is usually not possible to simply cross the multi lane, heavily trafficked street. Rather, there are bridges, escalators and some moving sidewalks which need to be sought out and negotiated in order to arrive at one's destination. For example, last year, my friend and I took a bus to a shopping area just past the airport. When we were finished, we decided not to wait for the bus since we clearly saw the hotels not far away. We thought we'd walk back. We walked and walked, stopped for drinks, walked some more. It was hot. It was February. On the bright side, we saw the famous diamond shaped "Las Vegas" sign. Our feet were aching and blistered by the time we got to the first of the hotels. I checked the distance on mapquest and learned that the direct route to our hotel (there is no direct route in Vegas) was almost 10 kilometers.

Lesson #3 - Shows, Meal Deals and Drinks
At first glance, it looks costly to survive in Vegas. There was a time when there were signs offering 99 cent breakfasts and $3.99 steak dinners. Things have changed somewhat, although there are still bargains to be found. Be aware, the minute you get off the airplane or set foot in a taxi, there are entertainment type booklets available. Take them. I picked up a 24/7 magazine in our first cab. Inside, I found many coupons. We were able to pick up a pair of front row seats for one of the more expensive shows at a total cost of $100. There are visitors' guides and "What's On" magazines, all containing discounts for food and shows. There are even free shows available, usually comedians and magicians, fine if you're not too selective. More types of coupon books and deals can be found in hotels and downtown Freemont St.

Food is generally less expensive late at night, although there are always deals for hot dogs and beer $3, shrimp cocktails 99 cents, buffets, and free meals with a show ticket. At some hotels, you can get food and gift shop discounts just by registering for a priority card. It costs nothing. While waiting for a cafeteria style breakfast one morning, I found a placemat covered in coupons on my food tray. I tore off the 50% off coupon and used it immediately.

Drinks can be acquired for the price of a tip. If you sit at a slot machine for 30 seconds, a hostess will come and offer a drink. In fact, I sat near a machine to check the contents of my purse one morning and was immediately offered a drink, soda or coffee.

Lesson #4 - Miscellaneous Shopping

There are a number of ABC convenience stores along the strip. ABC stores sell everything from water to beer, snacks, souvenirs and essential drug items. Souvenir stores abound. There are also a few Walgreens and CVS drugstores. There are also several shopping malls. We visited the "Fashion Show Mall" and "Miracle Mile Shops". For exclusive designer clothing, shoes, purses and the like, look toward the stores in the fancier hotels.

Weird Random Stuff

2011-07-10T15:29:00.010-04:00

I often have odd random ideas, thoughts or queries. None ever provide me with enough insight or material about which to write an entire blog. They're just floating ideas, albeit strange ones. On the other hand I have decided to start a list which has now turned into a blog. Let's begin...

Why is it that after you take one tissue out of a hotel box of kleenex, you always end up with either the remaining beige ones or white ones with a blue stripe, both indicating the end of the box?

Do you think that expired, probiotic yogurt which has not been refrigerated for a day or so would make a person sick if they ate it?

Why do they have lots of drug advertisements plus a description of their 723 side effects during the evening t.v. news? Add to this the names of unknown magazines (eg " The Urban Wildlife Alien Hunter's Plumbing Magazine") which are said to describe the 723 side effects and more, in great detail.

Do all men put on their seatbelts after the car is moving?

Once they're finished pumping gas, why do some people have to wiggle, jiggle and fiddle in their car for 5 minutes before moving away from the pump?

In department stores, why is larger women's wear strategically situated either next to the maternity outfits or beside the extra small, petite, elf clothing?

Why are there signs on buildings and on the sides of buses advertising English classes or literacy classes for people who can't read or write?

Does the term "carpal tunnel syndrome" have anything to do with the fish?

And finally....an anecdote.

I asked hubby recently if he thought that the length of time it takes to dry one's hands under one of those blow dryers had a direct correlation to the length of time it takes to dry one's hair with a hairdryer. He looked mystified (often happens to people around me). I tried to explain but think I lost him.

"I notice that it only takes me a few seconds to dry my hands under one of those dryers. Lots of people use the hand dryer for a really long time and are still there after I'm gone. Since my hair takes no time to dry, I wonder whether there's a correlation. I think I'll have to look at people more closely. If they take a long time, I'll see if they have particularly thick hair or something." (Insert glassy eyed, mouth agape, baffled male stare here). Ah yes, my job here is done.

The Finished Pirate Product...(3)...Arrghh

2011-06-27T20:36:00.001-04:00

I was on my way to transport the almost finished pirate costume to where my son works. We still needed to create some type of vest. On the way, I saw a sign. It said 50% off at Value Village. My car seemed to veer off in the direction of this particular thrift shop. It was crowded and chaotic. I found vests. In fact, I found I fabulous vest. I located a Danier leather, black, longish vest marked at a mere $5.99. I got it for half price...$3.00...awesome.

We already knew that the pants would fit, so it was a matter of trying on the shirt and the new vest. He put it on over his tee and I demonstrated how the "bib" and the sleeves functioned. He has enough tattoos and facial hair to look pretty realistic. Here's what he looked like after he added the hat and belt.

We decided that since he would now turn into a more elegant type pirate with the velour and fur hat, the lace shirt, the leather vest, the shiny pants (still in the bag), and the leggings, that the bird was no longer necessary. This solved the problem of how I was going to attach the toucan/parrot squeaky dog toy to his shoulder. In fact, it solved several problems.

Amber is examining her new squeaky toy.

Final cost of complete costume. Shirt $3 plus $1 for doilies. I already had buttons and snaps in my collection. Pants $3 plus $1 for elastic. Leather vest half price $3 at Value Village. Leggings with large buttons $2, eye patch $1 at party store. Pirate paraphernalia...rubber knife, coins etc.were on a large cardboard in the kids' toy section of Dollarama $1. The stretchy belt, bandannas, pirate hat and other items not necessarily seen here were in mom's costume collection. Total pirate price $15.

Party Time

http://www.clubzone.com/events/342969/toronto/empire-sandy/toronto-pirate-party-cruise-2011

Pirate Progress (2) Argghh...

2011-06-27T09:09:00.000-04:00

Back to the thrift shop I went. There were no frilly shirts available but I found a strange, meshy kind of thing in the men's section. It looked expensive "Sunveil Sunwear", made in Canada. I spent $3. I also trekked to the dollar store for some doilies. Having found some white lacy ones...4 in a pack, I headed home and got out the sewing needle. I made a removable bib with snaps for the front of the shirt. Then, I created some poofy sleeves with velcro attachments and sewed on more doilies around the wrists.

I cut the shiny pants and shortened them to knee length. Then I stitched a hem, inserted elastic and pulled it tight to create puffy pirate pants. Again, I was fortunate. During one trip to the dollar store I located long socks, a patch and fake sword. I already owned a suitable studded hemp and leather belt and had a pirate hat in my clothing and costume collection. I will take it to my son's today and make sure everything fits and works as planned. I still need to create some semblance of long vest/cover. This morning, I had an idea as I was eyeing my nightie. The belt can be worn on the outside of the not yet created vest.

This is what I have so far.

In the back of my mind I'm imagining a pirate with a parrot on his shoulder. I have been searching for one of those stuffed feathered friends that is usually available everywhere, but I have been unsuccessful. I'm wondering whether what I did find (below) can pass for a parrot. It squeaks and would be funny. I like a touch of humour. Anyhow, I also have to work out how it would "sit" on the shoulder of the soon to be created vest.

Piat to Pirate - Part 1 - Arghhhh...

2011-06-26T08:31:00.000-04:00

My son recently texted me and asked for a large favour before next Thursday. Uh oh, I thought, remembering a friend's warning words. "When they ask for a favour, they always want money." Not so on this occasion.

"I don't have time, so can you help me make a pirate costume?" he asked. The words "help me" and "I don't have time" told me that I would be tackling this project myself.

"Err...sure, I can try," I responded, trying to recall whether any of my three costume bins contained pirate items. "This isn't the best time of year to try to assemble a costume." I said.

"Yeah, I know but I'm going to a party and I need it. Can you make it kind of like Captain Hook?"

My head started spinning. Suddenly this project took on a whole new dimension...long red coat with gold braiding and buttons, monstrous hat with feather, boots, white leggings, shiny pants and a "Seinfeld" puffy shirt.

"Sure, I'll try." I responded wishing that he had just requested something simple... like money.

I picked up a couple of pairs of black sateen pants at a thrift store and headed to my son's house for sizing.

"Pirates wore shiny pants?" he questioned.

As I tried to explain Captain Hook and his elegant wardrobe, I realized that "the boy" was in fact unaware of what he was asking. I had once again failed as a mother. How could he not know what Captain Hook looked like? I quizzed him further to become more clear on his thoughts and plans.

"Ok, you're wearing slip on brown plaid running shoes, no boots? Perhaps we needed to go for a less formal pirate...shredded zig zags at the bottom of the pants, stripey socks, a vest, a bandana but still the puffy shirt," I suggested.

I left his place with pants, just pants and no further idea how to proceed.

Canine Clamour

2011-06-25T13:53:00.005-04:00

All winter long, hubby pointed out that our bird feeders were left untouched. I am happy to report that the birds have gradually returned. Not only the birds, but all manner of wildlife is showing up in our neighbourhood. I know this is not unusual for some of our family and friends who live in more rural, northern or wooded environs. We, however, live in a town near a super highway, in an area that appears to be turning into a rainforest. Trees and plants have morphed into monstrosities. It's still been a bit cool but we've had maximum humidity and lots of fog and precipitation for much of June.

Recently, there was a large, long legged bird on a neighbour's roof...either a blue heron or a pterodactyl. There have been foxes, cougars and deer sightings in the area. Our feathered and furry backyard friends, along with a few frogs make our yard look like a forest scene in a Disney cartoon.

One critter which we have noted on a daily basis is Charlie the Chipmunk. He lives below our back porch and frequently opts to walk across the deck, much to the dismay of Amber, our mini dachshund.

Amber, has been very active especially when she spots her buddy Charlie crossing her territory. She barks and barks as Charlie taunts her by clinging to the wall above her head or hides between an inaccessible pile
of bricks, a ladder and a wheelbarrow. She is not to be deterred from tracking this sunflower seedy-breathed rodent. She yips and yaps until hubby finally retrieves her by dislodging her nose from between the folded up ladder rungs.

I'm not certain what Amber would do if she ever got close enough to Charlie to consider capturing him. So far, there is no likelihood of any white flags being dangled from any chipmunk housing development. Charlie definitely has the upper hand.

As I write this, Charlie is sitting on our bedroom window ledge looking down at the ground. Amber is staring up in disbelief. As usual, it's a standoff. Charlie is holding firm while Amber is barking, barking and barking. Charlie has no intention of relocating anytime soon. Our neighbours on the other hand, have decided to move.

"Hey Amber, catch me if you can."

The End of the Tail

2011-06-16T08:44:00.002-04:00

I drove to a Mennonite farmers' market with my stepmom this week. For lunch, we went to a small town called Heidelberg. In the past, I have gone there once or twice a year, usually with friends and family for one of my all time favourite meals (don't gag)....pigtails. It's not something I would eat all the time, or even frequently. Pigtails are special. I discovered this delicacy during my youth. My university choir went to the pub following practice one night. A fellow chorister convinced me to try a bite. I was hooked.

Fond recollections are associated with the consumption of pigtails. That's part of the appeal of food isn't it? Many of our most pleasant and memorable times with family and friends are connected with celebrations involving food and drink. Our choir has had reunions at Heidelberg. Tables have been shoved together and we have imbibed, reminisced, laughed and eaten.

I remember going to Heidelberg several times with my friend Karla and her family members, some of whom lived in that area. Her father, Richard, loved pigtails so much that he ordered two or three dinners and then a few more individual pigtails. We called him "the pigtail eating champion". On one occasion, he consumed nine tails at one sitting. My own dad who was along for one of these feasts was in awe. Another time, Richard ordered "a pigtail for dessert" after having already finished a few meals. It didn't arrive. The waitress thought he was joking and we all had a great laugh as we kept trying to convince her that he was serious.

My parents liked the Heidelberg pub. They would sometimes arrange to meet with grandma Rose and grandpa John at this location. This ensured that grandma Rose would not go to her usual exhaustive efforts of cooking and baking for days upon hearing that my parents would be in the vicinity. Mom and dad also went to Heidelberg with visiting family members, grandparents and cousins from Europe, an aunt and uncle from Winnipeg and so on. It was a novelty since "Heidelberg" was also the name of a city near their hometown in Germany. From time to time, we'd go during Oktoberfest to hear the small town pianist attempt to play "Ein Prosit" and "Roll Out the Barrel". It all sounds fine after a few of pints of their hausbrau beer.

I've made countless treks to Heidelberg over the years. I've even been there with hubby who passed up the tails in favour of pork hocks. This week, as I mentioned, I went with my stepmom. We celebrated our family and friends, some of whom have gone their separate ways and many of whom are now deceased. We ate with gusto. We ate pigtails.

Yesterday, I looked at the photo that I had taken of my dinner. I realized that another chapter of my life has passed and that I don't ever need to consume pigtails again. It's not because of the fat and calories,although it should be, but rather because I realized that the meal really wasn't that special.

I had the revelation that it's not about food. It's about the experiences and the company that go along with the meal. The memories of the fun times, the people and the enjoyment of past visits are images that can only be remembered. They can never be replicated.

Two tails, sauerkraut, mashed potatoes, hold the gravy.

Sing with me..."I'm Dreaming of Some Clean Storage..."

2011-06-13T14:38:00.003-04:00

I am cleaning the storage room. This is good because it's only June.

Every year as Christmas approaches, I dig out my strings of lights, my beautiful fake tree, my skillfully collected ornaments, my bins of wrap and ribbon, my antique ceramic cherubs, my lovely scented candle tapers and my fine linens and I say, "I'm going to clean this stuff up and sort it out after Christmas."

Then, every year after Christmas, I rush to put away the strings of broken lights, the less than lovely fake tree, the junky collection of ornaments, my disorganized bins of wrapping and ribbon scraps, my faded, chipped ceramic angels, my half melted warped candles and my semi clean, somewhat worn, slightly stained linens. "I'll sort it all out before Christmas next year", I say.

And so the cycle continues.

An opportunity has arisen. It is a great chance to rid myself once and for all, of the regrets that I would normally unearth some time in November. The local hospital shop is having a "Christmas in June" sale. They are looking for seasonal "stuff". Boy do I have "stuff"!

Today has been a dull, dreary day. Zumba is finished. Lunch is done. Excuses have run out. I have just over one week to organize and clean the storage room, sorting out and delivering the Christmas materials to the store. So far, I have only cleaned the bins and outlying floor and shelf areas containing ribbon, tissue paper, gift bags, package toppers, tape, glue sticks and other assorted wrapping materials. I have one bag of ribbon to donate. It took me two hours.

I need a break. I'm tired of this. Maybe I'll take a nap. I think I'll write a blog, then go for some zzzz's.

I wonder whether many people will take this opportunity to sort through their Christmas paraphernalia. I suppose, there might be those trendy folks who will be changing their theme colour for next year. They might welcome this disposal opportunity. How many people will take advantage of the sale to shop for Christmas items thus ending up with more things in their house? Is this a great money making idea or will the hospital shop get stuck with their own shelves upon shelves of unwanted Christmas items? So many questions.

Should I go back to work on the storage room now or not? Perhaps after I walk the dog. I need to go to the mailbox. I want a cup of tea. I haven't checked the tv all day. There might be some important new health information from Dr. Oz.

Maybe I'll just wait until November and sort out the rest of my Christmas items when I'm ready to use them. In the meantime, I'd better mark the 24th on the calendar...never know what seasonal essentials might be available for sale.

Passion For Purple Posies

2011-06-10T20:18:00.000-04:00

I notice that I have gradually gone in a more purpley direction with my gardening. Nice colour. So many shades and nuances that some might call these hues pink or blue. I prefer to think of them as purple, amethyst, violet, plum, lilac or even puce. Here are a few samples of my plantings.

Things My Mom Taught Me

2011-06-08T08:41:00.180-04:00

I remember the last words of wisdom my mother ever shared with me. "If you don't have your health, you have nothing."

Today would have been my mom's 80th birthday. She died at a young age. Sadly, the times I think of her are becoming fewer. I do remember her voice, her mannerisms and gestures and I have memories which are becoming increasingly difficult to retrieve in any sort of detail. As with everything else, there are "triggers" that cause me to recall comments and events. Sometimes, they make me chuckle, other times, I realize how they have shaped my life.

One obvious example happens each year as Good Friday approaches. I can usually hear mom's voice in her 'Woinemer' dialect. "Karfreitag is de heiligschte Dag im Johr". Good Friday is the holiest day of the year.

Even before my parents became devoted church goers, they refused to do anything which seemed like "work" on Good Friday. They had been taught, and now, so have I. Good Friday was always elevated several notches above Sunday's "day of rest " status. If you had no clean clothes to wear, too bad. No laundry was to be done on this day...tough lesson especially during my teenage years.

I got to thinking about and appreciating some other things that mom taught me: thoughtfulness, kindness, consideration and common sense. To this day, I do not slam a door, but I turn the knob and close it gently behind me. I know that it is rude to shout, point or use an excessively loud voice particularly in public places. Persons older than myself are to be respectfully addressed by their title and surname. When cooking, turn the pot handles toward the back of the burners for safety. Do not eat raw dough because it will give you worms, and of course, always wear clean underwear when going out even if it has the wrong day of the week written on it.

My mom taught me about the environment, before it was in vogue. Be sure to thoroughly boil the lake water before drinking. When being followed by a bear, keep walking and don't bother trying to climb a tree. Always put trash in your pocket until you find a proper place for disposal. The chewed gum that became lodged in my jacket one day turned into a whole other learning opportunity.

When I was a child, mom read to me. I gained knowledge of German stories, poems and songs and I am pleased that I still remember most of those. She cured me of many ills using a simple remedy... camomille and peppermint tea.

I know that mom had countless friends. She cared about people and went out of her way to get to know them. There wasn't a person she had ever met that she didn't like or remember. I think it worked both ways.

Mom died when her only two grandkids were very young. My fondest memory of all is when she used to bounce them lovingly on her lap, start chanting a rhyme, then tip them backwards causing them to giggle with glee.

"Hoppe, hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er
fällt er in den Sumpf
macht der Reiter plumps."

Today, I learned something new about my mom thanks to 'Google'. I learned that she used to recite Goethe.

Graduation Part Deux

2011-06-04T10:48:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, my daughter graduated, again. She now has a commerce degree from UOIT. It's been a bit of a journey as she navigated her way through the educational system. A career in chemical engineering after her last graduation was not to be at that time. Since she's always been excellent at science and math, she went in a different direction. I believe that her interest in business and accounting developed through her part time job at Lululemon, so off she went...back to school. Despite her recent threats to get a Master's degree at UVI(University of Virgin Islands), everyone's favourite Caribbean location, I think she's finally done. The career/job hunting seems to have begun.

Just an aside...I'm not certain who raised those two weird "kids", but there they are...proud brother with his sis during one of their usual more serious moments.

It was a lovely day for a graduation as we all assembled in the GM Place in Oshawa. We were pleasantly surprised by the guest speaker, another 'shwa native and distinguished political figure, Ed Broadbent. He received an honorary doctorate.

Soon it was time to celebrate with a bit of food, cake and gifts. The spread was outstanding. It was lovingly prepared by mom (moi)...some vegan, some vegetarian, all delicious.

Congratulations Ingrid. Much love, happiness and future success.

Why Do Some Things Just Seem Wrong?

2011-06-01T00:05:00.000-04:00

My friend gave us this flowering plant in December. It's lovely and it's still blooming. Lest there be any doubt, it's June now. The plant looked passable in the midst of my red and white Valentine's motif. It appeared out of place with my pink, turquoise, purple and yellow Easter decorations. It seemed downright strange when the tulips and daffodils bloomed outside the window and now that it's almost summer, well, it's just wrong.

One of my favourite Robert Fulghum short stories comes to mind. I remember learning about his poinsetta (he insisted on spelling it that way) adventures from the book "Maybe (Maybe Not)". I was sitting in a waiting room at the time of reading and getting some strange looks as his words made me laugh out loud. He described his many efforts and lack of success in attempting to dispose of his annual poinsettia. The only difference was that his was gone one way or the other by March. Ours is here. It's June. Did I already mention that?

I have "googled" poinsettia to find out what to expect. There's site after site giving details on how to care for this plant and how to prolong its life. Not what I had in mind. I could have written those myself. There are mutitudinous photos of poinsettias. I know what they look like thanks. I have one in my living room...in June! Finally, I found it. Exactly what I was looking for. Thank you wikipedia. Once I got past the biology, the history and the folklore, it was all spelled out for me, right there. "Daytime temperatures in excess of 21 C tend to shorten the life of the plant." We have now had two consecutive days in the upper 20's. May the heat continue.

Finally, I can stop obsessing about the out of season poinsettia and get on with thinking about some serious June activities....hockey playoffs. First game tonight!

Fashion Fools

2011-05-29T21:59:00.020-04:00

I enjoy dressing up and looking nice. I like to watch shows about styles and I like to have knowledge of the latest in fashion. I am not a trendsetter nor am I interested in being one. I thank my parents for that. Although I grew up in the era of Ben Casey shirts and Dr. Kildare blouses, colourful cardigans worn backwards and kilts with giant safety pins, I owned none of these items. Mom would say, "Why would you want to look like everyone else?" and dad added, "Waste of money, they won't be wearing those stupid shirts next year." Both were correct. Besides that, they pointed out that Germans don't need kilts.

Perhaps it was my 35 cent an hour babysitting income that convinced me not to argue. I prefer to think that I was being mature and sensible. Oh, who am I trying to kid? The population of young girls began demonstrating their preference for one or the other of these hot young t.v. doctors by wearing the appropriate shirt. I became increasingly envious. This was my generation's version of the current vampire movie, Jacob or Edward fan alliances. As for the skirts, I can't say I really cared. I was just very attracted to the giant kilt pins and I still am.

As a teen, I memorized the women's clothing section in the Eaton's catalogue which arrived at our door each season. I was like the small child who pores over the "Christmas Wish Book" except that instead of toys, I would select clothing and accessories, saying to myself, "I'm going to get this and I'm going to get that." What I got were homemade sweaters that either my mom or I knit, and an occasional new skirt or party dress. As I became older, a family friend came to the rescue. She enjoyed sewing and created some more fashionable blouses, jumpers, dresses and a most magnificent, skating skirt lined with shiny green sateen. I felt like a superstar as I skated up and down the creek behind our house spinning and swirling.

Just as trends didn't make sense then, some don't make sense now. For example, I think that if the words "spectacular", "stupendous" or "magnificent" fit across your butt, you probably shouldn't be wearing the pants with those words on them. It reminds me of a tractor trailer I saw recently with the words "wide load" on the back.

The sporting of pajamas in public also has me mystified. Are these the same pjs that have been worn for sleep? Do people go out in public and then wear that germ infested nightwear back to bed? Do they have a collection of pajama pants which they put on just for going to the shopping mall or other really special occasions?

Of particular concern and relevance to me has been an ongoing trend, women's shirts with stripes. Why are the lines always horizontal? They not only make a person look twice their size, but depending on the kind and location of said stripes, they stretch and get distorted across portions of the female anatomy.

Recently, I saw the latest in summer fashion. It consisted of a long sleeved blazer type jacket, a long sleeved shirt, a scarf, shorts and a pair of high heeled shoes. Basically, a suit with shorts. Cute, but how does this make any sense? If it's hot in the summer, who wants to wear a jacket, long sleeves and high heels? If it's cold enough for a blazer, who's going to want to wear shorts with bare legs? Is the added scarf meant to keep the legs warm? I suppose that some women will be sporting this style just to be part of the newest craze. Perhaps it'll even be the same ones who are currently walking around with "astounding" written on their back sides.

Mice, Lice and Other Fun Infestations

2011-05-23T21:30:00.000-04:00

What is it that causes adults to remember some childhood good times, a few embarassing moments, but all, and I mean all, scary, bug, or vermin related experiences? Here are my stories.

During my family's early years living in the city, we rented a series of two room flats, usually on the second level of someone's house. At one particular location, I slept on a cot in the kitchen. I recall hearing scratching sounds and rustling noises during the night. After one restless sleep, I mentioned this to my parents who informed me that it was mice. It's tough for an eight year old to sleep well after receiving such information. There were no visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. Instead, I had nightmares about mice, waltzing across my young, sleeping body.

I also have memories of school headlice checks. Those shishkebab skewers through the hair became a regular event back in the days when there were actually school nurses onsite. As soon as my mom heard of a case of lice anywhere in the western hemisphere, she began looking through my hair as if she hoped to find gold. She found neither lice nor gold but felt appeased as she located and disposed of the occasional speck of dirt.

In order to escape the city, my parents took advantage of invitations to peoples' cottages. We enjoyed the swimming, the saunas, the social life. I was a kid. I liked going out and collecting frogs. It was fun to see how many I could line up on a large rock that jutted out of the lake before they would take their leave and jump into the water. One day, I found an extra large one, a bullfrog. I set him down and admired my lineup. Suddenly, he turned and gulped the small frog beside him. I watched in horror as little legs dangled from the bullfrog's mouth. I quickly grabbed the rest of my froggy friends and tossed them back into the bushes. Tears streamed down my face after I witnessed this act of cannibalism.

Another incident happened when I was ten years old. We had relocated to a better neighbourhood and now rented two rooms and a kitchen. My parents' bedroom was large enough to double as a seating/entertainment area and they even managed to squeeze in a full-sized tree at Christmas. At last I had my own tiny room and a convertible sofa bed. One morning, I noticed some rather large spots on my pillow case. Odd. I didn't think my hair was that dirty. My parents first discovered them...bedbugs. They traced the source to one of my recent sleepovers at a family friend's. After emptying a rather large can of RAID and opening the windows, while fanning the smell, they discussed their fear of potential eviction. That night, I slept on the floor. The next night, I was the "bait" to see whether the invaders were gone. They weren't. This time, it was all out war. All crevices, creases and the wooden frame were treated. Traumatic!

Perhaps these sorts of incidents toughened me up. I once earned money picking dew worms at a local golf course. It was hard work but didn't seem icky. When I went to an art camp with a group of adults, the cabin was full of mice. Some women freaked out. Others moved into tents. I went to sleep. At work we had visiting scientists bringing roaches, reptiles and assorted wildlife. Interesting.

Recently I made a hotel reservation for my friend Mona and me. She was concerned and asked whether I had checked the web for bedbugs at that location.

I'm still laughing.

Papa's Progressive Parties

2011-05-22T15:32:00.011-04:00

Most people have encountered progressive dinners at some point during their lives. How about a progressive birthday party? We recently had occasion to celebrate hubby's landmark birthday. We celebrated, we celebrated and we celebrated. In fact, our celebrations covered thousands of kilometers. Here are some of the photos of our many gatherings.

HOME with family

CHURCH with church family

SHARING a birthday with Dan and family

OKLAHOMA

Happy Birthday from the "Red Lobster Chorus"

MORE family

AND FINALLY, A TIME TO PONDER.....

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ADAM ! May you have many, many more...just not this year.

Planes, Automobiles and a Graduation

2011-05-20T20:27:00.002-04:00

Last week we went to another land. It was called Oklahoma. We went there for a very special occasion, a graduation. Here is the lovely family we visited. The dad, Matt was graduating from law school.

People attended from many distant places like Vancouver, Toronto, New York and Oklahoma. The planes were all late. The cars were also late. Far away lands like Oklahoma sometimes have scary weather and this causes delays. At last, all the siblings and the papa were gathered together.

The aunt, uncle and cousin from New York also arrived. Everyone was excited and proud.

When Matt first tried on his graduation robe, he looked very handsome and distinguished. Everyone said "ooh and ahhh." Papa said, "He looks just like Martin Luther."

There were many graduation functions and parties. There was an awards ceremony, a party for friends and family and then, the official ceremony. For the ceremony, there was a traditional southwestern band of bagpipers in kilts.

At the end of the graduation, we took lots of pictures.

Papa was proud and so was Matt's stepmom.

Theory of Relativity

2011-05-19T20:43:00.003-04:00

You know what they say. One picture, is worth a thousand words (or in this case 3 pictures). Here is a series of photos that leave no doubt whether or not any of these people are related.

Well? What do you think? Are they or are they not all family?

Phones, Tones and Drones

2011-05-04T20:42:00.004-04:00

While I was working a few weeks back, we were asked to refrain from cell phone use except during breaks. I found this to be a reasonable request since we began work at 8:30 a.m. and had breaks in the morning, lunch time and afternoon before leaving for the day at 4:30. A day or two later, we were once again reminded not to go into the hallways or anyplace else to use cell phones during work time unless it was an absolute emergency. Many people ignored this, still used their phones and continued to do so throughout the work weeks.

As I walked the 450 steps toward the bathroom one morning, I observed that the butt of the young woman ahead of me lit up and possibly vibrated. After my initial start, I realized that it was her phone. She pulled it out of her rear pocket, ducked into a stall and remained there indefinitely. Throughout the day, and the following week, finger swiping continued in hallways, under tables, in bags and purses. There was no dissuading the determined and the addicted. Why did people who were getting paid to work feel such a sense of entitlement? David Carr of the New York Times stated, "I moderated a panel (there) called “I’m So Productive, I Never Get Anything Done,” which was ostensibly about how answering e-mail and looking after various avatars on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr left little time to do what we actually care about or get paid for."

I am clearly of a different generation. I wracked my brain trying to come up with something comparable that required such constant attention during my younger years. I couldn't. Not only did we have face to face conversations in the "olden days", there were few if any friends that we were interested in knowing so intimately, that we needed to know the details of every minute of their lives.

I recently read an article by Margaret Wente in the "Globe and Mail" entitled "I (nearly) kicked my Net habit". Wente stated that "peoples' addiction to their devices has already destroyed manners and social life." She also made a rather unpleasant analogy which I would rather not repeat. I believe everything she said to be absolutely true. We've all seen it. I don't need to provide examples.

People have lost all sense of propriety when using cell phones. I noticed long ago that public yelling into the mouthpiece of a cell phone seems to be the norm. I was riding in an elevator when I was joined by a woman who had her phone on speaker. Not only did I hear everything she shouted, but I was also party to the private details of another unsuspecting person's life.

One comment made about Wente's article summarizes it all very well. "They (today's youth) seem to spend more time communicating about their lives than living them."

That's my opinion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go check my cell phone text messages.

Dining With Strangers

2011-04-28T11:34:00.006-04:00

There are some solitary activities which cause people discomfort. Having grown up as an only child, I don't seem to have a lot of the same issues. I actually enjoy "alone" time. I can easily go to a movie or a restaurant by myself and be quite content, despite the oft sympathetic greeting of, "only one?", as I am quietly escorted to a discreet table for two.

About a week ago, I suppressed my inner vegetarian long enough to dine at one of my favourite steak restaurants. I sat on the rather long, vinyl padded bench which stretched across the back of several tables. That way, I was able to face the restaurant rather than sit in a chair and stare at a wall.

While studying the menu, a necessary formality even though I always order the same thing, I felt something wedge itself against my hip. I curiously tried to peek at the activities of the woman and the three men that had been seated at the table beside me. The woman had stood up and in so doing had shoved her enormous, "Coach" purse against me. She excused herself from the table and left for the restroom...without her bag! When she returned and made her way back onto to the bench, I felt another nudge and noticed that the purse was now almost entirely on my lap. I was flabbergasted. The next table was not that close, nor is that part of my anatomy particularly large. I was well within the confines of my tiny table space whilst she was seated at least four feet away.

I was tensed up but managed to stare calmly into the distance, pretending that I didn't see the intrusive item. I sipped my vodka martini, straight up with olives. Oh, who am I kidding? I gulped my martini and began thinking about my next move. I glanced surreptitiously toward her, then down. The purse was wide open. Oh no! She'll think I tried to get into it.

The olives helped to level my blood sugar so that I could come up with a few ideas. Plan #1 - Perhaps I should have another martini to overcome my shyness and ask her to move it. I looked over and saw the four clinking glasses and toasting each other. Hmmm...what would she think? Why couldn't she just see my predicament and take her bag away? Plan #2- What if I tried to go to the restroom? That option is always a problem when dining alone. Besides, I didn't think I'd be able to move the purse without physically picking it up to do so. Plan #3 - Use one of my Zumba moves, fling my hip toward it and hope the purse shifts. That was it! Brilliant! Plan #3 it was.

I slid my back side to the left and hurled my hip in the opposite direction, right against the purse, just as a steak platter was placed in front of me. "Would you like another martini?" the waitress asked nonchalantly pretending not to notice my blushing face and odd behaviour.

"Errr...(tempted), no thanks, one is my limit. I have to walk across the road in rush hour traffic," I answered as if I needed an excuse not to imbibe further. She nodded and left. I nibbled my meal as I tried to visualize the viability of a new idea. Plan #4 - Get the waitress to ask her to move it.

As I adjusted the napkin on my lap I once again felt the offending purse brush against me. I gave it a shove with my hand, then another. Such a simple move had worked! I now had at least 6 inches of leeway between me and the bag.

Noting that the group was engrossed in conversation, I looked over to make certain that the purse had travelled a respectable distance away from me. As I did, I overheard one of the men, dark haired, middle aged, heavy set offering to sport a thong at the pool during their next business function.

I had no choice as the waitress approached. "I've changed my mind. I'll have another martini please."

Working Out West

2011-04-26T22:16:00.000-04:00

For two weeks, I had the pleasure of living in a hotel and working west of the city. I was thrilled to dwell in the lap of luxury. My room had a spacious kitchen and breakfast nook. It was so large that I never did locate the fridge or microwave. Instead, I used a small cooler filled with ice and a coffee maker for hot water. As you can see, there was only a slight lack of kitchen cabinetry.

My living room, entertainment area and bedroom were equally plush. The colours were lovely...a distinctive shade of vintage (aka 1970's) orange. I won't go into detail about the powder room except to say that I had to turn sideways to get through the door and stand in the tub to brush my teeth.

The view from my window was simply spectacular in every direction. Sometimes, I could see the CN tower. I felt that I could almost touch it...especially when I used the telephoto lens.

View

CN Tower South View

Each morning, we were greeted by a coach to take us to our work site. I opted to walk the one mile uphill and down, through traffic, aircraft noise, chaos and across three highway ramps because I didn't want to be spoiled by the magnificent transit option. Besides that, I saw and learned so much along the way that I couldn't help but find each day's trek totally enjoyable.

For example, one day, I noted a police officer reporting on some damaged property. By the time I walked back later in the day, the problem had been repaired...as if it had never happened.

Once at the work site/warehouse, we were treated to more lovely facilities. This is the female side.

I am pleased to say that I used some of my time creatively. I was the envy of the workplace when during one very cold day, I took my dollar store gloves and a knife which I had in my lunch bag. I invented a way of wearing my right glove while still allowing me to work.

All in all, it was a productive two weeks. For those who know what I was doing, great. For those who don't, it was a top secret government operation. I can't speak of it in further detail since I signed a confidentiality agreement. Lest you wonder, it had nothing to do with either Charlie Sheen or the royal wedding.

One of These Things is Not Like the Others...

2011-04-21T21:27:00.000-04:00

I came back home from two weeks away at work and because of the upcoming long weekend, I went to pick up a few things at the supermarket. I parked around the side of the Metro store rather than in the busy front lot. When I came out of the store, this is what I saw. My car had multiplied !

I set down my grocery bag, grabbed the camera which is always in my purse and took the photo. As I did, I said to myself, "This is almost funny."

When I heard a voice behind me answer "No, it's not that funny," I realized that once again I had been speaking to myself far too loudly. I noticed a gentleman stare at the vehicles and select the one on the right.

I pointed at the styrofoam baseball on my car's aerial and announced, this time to the male audience, "I find this helps." He nodded, smiled and drove off.

"I also have a personalized license plate," I said smuggly before I caught myself and looked around relieved that there was nobody listening this time. I hopped into my car, gave the red air freshener sneaker a flick toward the mirror, smiled proudly and headed home.