Older and Hangin' In

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

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

"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.

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Daring to Make Dampfnudeln

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

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?

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 oxygen 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

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

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



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

"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.