Is It Better In the Bahamas...with mom? Part Two

Soon, the mother felt thirsty. She accepted the suggestion from a duo of Russian women who recommended a drink called a ***Kamikaze. "Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother. "I like this drink, I think I'll have another". For some reason, she got very tired and decided to relax on the not so crowded beach with her Nora Roberts novel and her ancient listening device (see blogs entitled "Who You Calling An Antique?" and "Yes, I'm Old Now"). It was so peaceful. Suddenly, she was rudely awakened by the sounds of the "Black Eyed Peas" and "Flo Rida". This was to become a nightly event as the "Booze Cruise" passed by the resort in an attempt to recruit unsuspecting types for their glass bottom boat rides.

The mother was glad when the rest of the day and the night were over and Ingrid and Phil arrived. Except for a few strange facial ticks, they seemed to have survived their flight relatively unscathed.

That evening, they went to dinner and invited mom. "Woohoo, I'd love to", said Ingrid's strange mother. So they all got dressed and headed for the "Garden of Eden" for their first night's meal.


....to be continued

***Kamikaze is a drink made with equal parts vodka, triple sec and lime juice. Drink appearance on this page is not exactly to scale as our all-inclusive club made them slightly (cough, cough) larger and stronger.

Is It Better In The Bahamas...with mom? Part One

Once, there was a cute, not so young couple named Ingrid and Phil. Despite many warnings about facebook, they did not heed them and were not too selective about who was included on their "friends" list. They added Ingrid's strange mother. When they posted a planned trip to the Bahamas, Ingrid's strange mother said, "Woohoo, I like the Bahamas."

Ingrid innocently replied, "Why don't you come along?"

"Woohoo", said Ingrid's strange mother. "I'd love to."

Mom did not let the lack of tickets for the date in question deter her. When the travel agent suggested a flight a day earlier, the strange mother said, "Woohoo, I'd love to."

So off she flew to the beautiful city of Nassau on the Island of New Providence, the tiny one between the two long ones on the top left of the map.

Except for the airline having placed her in the midst of an infant evacuation flight, with the odour of fresh poop permeating the plane, the flight was uneventful. After 3 hours, they landed. While waiting for her luggage, the strange mother was asked if she wanted to sample some of the island's delicacies, specifically Bacardi. "Woohoo, I'd love to,"she said.

At the resort, the mother was enthralled with the sun, sand, air and water. It was lovely. She immediately went exploring and found many things of interest. There were unusual birds....

....of all kinds. And there was odd native attire.



Not the end. Watch for Part 2

What you talking about?

I talk to myself. This is a skill which I have perfected in my later life. I noticed that I have been participating in this activity more in recent years. Perhaps it's not a skill at all. Maybe it's just a lack of caring what people think anymore. It works well for me. What used to be thoughts in my head are now thoughts for all the world to hear. Not all of my thoughts get out there, but I usually don't regret the ones that do. Sometimes, I mutter and sometimes I just give voice to an idea. I don't think I'm the only offender but then that might be wishful thinking. After all, I wouldn't want to imagine that I'm the only strange person around.

I'm not certain what brings on this sudden need to share my thoughts with the produce in the vegetable aisle of a supermarket, or sing along loudly to the store's Musak, I just do.

Sure there are those jokesters who say that when we talk to ourselves at least someone is listening. Or, you're not crazy as long as you don't answer yourself. I've noted that there are even articles, albeit on the internet that's say it's healthy, another form of mental stimulation. I wonder whether those words of wisdom were written by other self talkers.

This morning, I was wandering outdoors. Since I am currently in Nassau, I went onto the resort grounds to enjoy the scenery, the stillness and the air. It was lovely. Palm trees were wafting, waves were rolling in, the sand was undisturbed except for the footprints of a sandpiper that scurried toward the sea and the water was turquoise. Peaceful. "Exquisite", I heard myself think, then say as I extolled the wonders of this paradise.

Seagulls squawked and hovered, despite the resort's efforts to keep them away with numerous plastic owls. I found myself wondering. "Hey you stupid seagulls, don't you know that you're supposed to be fearful of owls? Hmmm....Caribbean seagulls and owls? Must have been some terrific salesman that conned them into buying those plastic monstrosities." Ooops....I realized I wasn't wondering I was once again speaking aloud.

Perhaps there are just things that we appreciate more as we age. Perhaps we're more observant. Perhaps our life's experiences have taught us to see more, do more, feel more and say more. At any rate, I like it. By using another sense, hearing, we affirm what our thought was. Probably a good way to stick things into our elderly heads that might otherwise disappear. Or maybe, it's just fun.

This is a recording...

"We are experiencing higher than usual call volume...please remain on the line and your call will be answered in sequence". I hate that recording. What they actually mean is, "Please stay on the line indefinitely and we will talk to you whenever we feel like it. " Or possibly, "we couldn't be bothered hiring enough people to deal with your petty problems, so when the individual we did hire, returns from the washroom, he/she might speak with you."

I'm not certain what marketing genius came up with that suggestion for a recorded message but it's getting tiresome. Do they actually think they're fooling anyone? Are we to believe that a company is doing so well and that the employees are so overworked that nobody can get to the phone? Perhaps, if we'd heard it only once or twice. Unfortunately, everyone is using the same lame "higher than usual volume" excuse. Not only that, I've heard that line during all hours of the day and part way into the night. I haven't spoken to a real person during the first 15 minutes of any service type call in the last decade. Sure, I was clever enough to figure out that pressing all those numbers for English or French, for this department or that department for this help or that help can for the most part be overridden by pressing "O" for operator. After all, do any of those options ever provide you with the actual choice you need? Where's the "I just have a quick question and don't want to wait half an hour" option? I think that pressing 1 for this and 2 for that is just a ploy to keep people busy while the one person at the other end of the line is dealing with the "higher than usual call volume".

Today, I contacted one of my favourite companies to inquire about a free preview sports channel advertised during every baseball game. This channel was supposedly available for the rest of the year. After awaiting my "higher than usual call volume" turn and being threatened by "this call may be recorded" I spoke to a gentleman who had some difficulty understanding me. Must have been my heavy Canadian accent! At any rate, after speaking to him for at least ten minutes and trying to explain that I wanted the free preview, he said, " Mrs. Adam, please to hold the line for two minutes so I ask someone." Another 5 minutes later, he returned with the response that I may order the free preview for $8 a month. Huh? "Well, the free service is only available to new customers." I interpret that to mean that "old" customers are no longer needed.

"I do not repeat NOT want to pay $8 for a free preview, so please forget it." I responded.

"Thank you madame. Is there anything else I can help you with today?" he asked.

Drat, I wish I had amassed more questions to save going through all this again, but alas, I had none. "No, thank you, goodbye."

Oh... and in case anyone wonders where my blogs have been of late. I have been experiencing higher than usual activity volume. Please be patient and blogs will appear in sequence.

Don't Eat It If It Starts With "P"

Why is it that cookbooks and diet books are always on the best seller lists? Since 68% of the North American population is overweight this may be a rhetorical question. Nonetheless, I have noted over the years that fad diets of every sort and books about these diets have always been big sellers. Some diets come and go, and some just linger for the next generation to get excited over as if they've discovered something new. There are testimonials and interviews galore, doctors touting their validity and then poof...as quickly as they came, gone! My all time favourite was the cabbage soup diet. This diet contained plenty of nutrition and fibre and could theoretically have worked very well had I been able to gag down more than one day's worth of the soup.

I am hereby announcing the launch of my newly created diet. It's going to be called the "Don't Eat Anything That Starts With The Letter 'P' Diet". I feel much like any creator of a new diet, that I am highly qualified to write a book. Not only do I have a combined degree in Sociology and Psychology, innumerable post grad courses, and certification in fengshui, but I have many years of diet experience. Furthermore, I know that the human body contains 122 or is it 144 bones? We, have 32 or fewer teeth depending on where on the continent we live, and the skin is our largest organ. I have eaten frogs' legs and know that they don't actually taste anything like chicken, therefore I consider myself quite the food expert.

I am hoping that my idea will be published as soon as I figure out a way of turning the following information into an entire book. Lots of pictures might just do the trick. Perhaps I could list the items in alphabetical order, with comments about and photos of each morsel in its natural habitat. My newly created diet promises to transform your body in a matter of decades or you can give me your money back. It is not complicated. Simply, do not consume any of the following items: pancakes, pasta, pop, pizza, pate, pepperoni, pez candies, potatoes, pigtails, pirrhana, pig knuckles or pork hocks, perogies, pomegranates, porridge, possum, popcorn, potstickers, pub fare, puffed rice, pigeons or partridges in pear trees.

Watch for my follow up fashion book to be entitled "Don't Go Out In Public Wearing Anything Starting With the Letter 'P' ."

Shopping or Fishing? It's All About Jeans

Many men do not understand the female version of shopping. Shopping is an art. Shopping is not always about walking into a store, grabbing what you want and dashing back out of the store in record time. Shopping does not necessarily involve purchasing anything. It is instead a relaxing activity which requires strolling, browsing, picking up, touching, smelling, and feeling, trying on, spending time with friends and recognizing bargains. Shopping takes time and skill and shopping is fun. I have in fact, gone on cross border shopping excursions with my friends and we have not purchased a thing. It's all about the experience. One of my greatest pleasures comes from knowing where to find something interesting or unusual for a gift or where to suggest a friend or family member go to find a specific item. Although I don't want to sound sexist, and I know there must be some women who do not enjoy this activity, I still believe that shopping in this way is predominately a female pastime.

Women, specifically me, don't understand the current male version of fishing. I used to love fishing. Fishing was one thing that got me out of bed at sunrise. It allowed me breathe the fresh air while someone else baited my hook. I would cast, pull out a fish, then repeat the process. This activity was performed quickly. Simply amass a few fish and go home. Just as men walk into a store knowing what they want, purchase it and leave, I fished, caught and was done. The fish were cleaned. The fish were cooked and eaten.

More recently, I have observed that fishing has a different look. Fishing consists of purchasing a dozen worms, going out on a boat, catching fish and tossing them back. Catch and release? Pointless I would think, but then, I'm female. Why do this? Why capture, mangle and toss back those slippery little critters? Could it be that men find it relaxing? Could it be that it provides a challenge or some kind of camaraderie? Could it be that they like the experience? Could it be that it gives them some degree of joy, not only knowing where the fish are, but being able to catch the best ones and be able to tell friends and family about "the one that got away"?

Next time men complain about females and their "shopping" we should help them understand the concept by telling them to think of it as female fishing. We like to go out, relax, spend time with friends, get a bit of exercise, know where the sales are and brag about our bargains to friends. Simple.

The Princess, The Pea, and Prince Charming

My husband is a prince. He is. He bought me the bed in which I am currently not sleeping. It's 3 a.m. The hour is irrelevant however, since I know for a fact that it is a more respectable time of morning, noon or night elsewhere in the world.

Tomorrow, is our third anniversary. Soon after we were married, I started whining about our bed. It was lumpy and bumpy and saggy in all the wrong places, much like my body. I ached in the mornings and despite my youth and vitality, my muscles remained sore for a large portion of the day. I complained. I'd let out the occasional moan. For dramatic effect, I made certain that my bones cracked and that I rubbed my neck and shoulders frequently while in his presence. The dog would often follow me around, dragging her tail as if to punctuate my discomfort.

"You're just like the princess and the pea" hubby would comment.

"Yep", I would answer.

He put a board underneath the mattress. It didn't help. Oddly, the bed still bent in places where I didn't. We went out and "test drove" some new mattresses. I determined that the foam ones were my favourite. I looked like someone on one of those t.v. commercials as I lay in the showroom sighing, sprawling and almost asleep enveloped in memory foam. This was surely one of NASA's best ever discoveries. All the pressure points were relieved. Unfortunately, the cost of the mattress rivalled that of a small spaceship and so we moved on.

"I have a surprise for you", hubby said one day as he came home from shopping. Through the door came a wall of white, covered by a giant plastic bag, with a pair of masculine hands dragging it. It was a topper made of, none other than memory foam. Next best thing to a whole mattress at a fraction of the cost.

"Yayyyyyyyy", I was thrilled. We immediately tore the sheets and duvet off the bed and reassembled it with our new viscoelastic plus polyurethane slab. Making the bed became a bit more challenging, but hey, it would be worth it!

Shortly after the "installation" of our new mattress pillow-top wannabe, the discomfort and the aches came back. I would wake up during the night laying on what appeared to be a curious lump or crack. In the morning, I'd investigate to see what had happened only to discover that the smaller mattress had now developed a mind of its own and shifted dramaticallly from atop the larger frame. Oh dear!

I lived with this for quite some time, pulling and yanking the pad back into place as best I could when making the bed. I tried not to complain. I tried...I really did.

One day, while we were driving, we happened to venture into a furniture store. Coincidentally, hubby headed for the mattresses. "Let's pick one", he announced, "but I have to be able to live with it too". We plopped our bodies onto a series of beds and we both seemed to linger on one particular choice. It wasn't foam, but it was acceptable....not too hard, not too soft, not bulgy, not too pricey. Sold!

The mattress was delivered a week later and we said goodbye to the older, more painful model at long last. Once it was assembled, I became aware of a unique feature of our new bed which I clearly hadn't noticed in the store. I realized that it required "deep pocket" sheets and that this was a particularly high mattress. Although I'm only slightly shorter than I used to be, the top of it was almost at my waist. Hmmm...

My athleticism has been tested numerable times over the last few years. I am often able to take a jumping leap to make it onto the bed. When I'm particularly tired, I approach it from the side and make my over the edge by flopping onto my stomach and crawling or pulling myself the rest of the way. Sometimes, only one leg and part of my body actually make it onto the bed, however, I am so appreciative of my new mattress, that I try to keep the grunting and groaning caused by this minor inconvenience to a minimum.

As I age, I will probably require either a step stool, ladder, or one of those senior elevators mounted alongside the frame to help me with my ascent into bed. Meanwhile I think I'll go back to sleep now, drift off and dream about castles, ponies and princes.

If It's Celsius, It's Too Cold!

All people who are parents, know that their own children are brilliant. I had a sense, even before her birth that my daughter would be of superior intelligence and I now have plenty of proof. She, affectionately known by me as "the girl", finds the most amazing ways to solve problems. For example, she has discovered that if a person hides dishes under the bed instead of leaving them in the kitchen sink, it will avoid potential conflict with roommates caused by not washing the aforementioned dishes. Also, if your cat's litter on the ground floor smells and your bedroom is on the third floor, someone on the first or second floor will probably change it.

There is a certain issue that I've grumbled about for a long time. I came to an acceptable compromise with the help of "the girl". In the winter time, when I am bundled in my warm woolies, a coat, hat, mittens, boots and the like, stores, malls and supermarkets are heated to a point that would make even a Floridian envious. Nonetheless, this problem is easy to solve by undoing some buttons and removing a few items of clothing. Conversely, in summer, when the outdoor temperatures may or may not be blistering and the population is wearing extremely limited clothing, the air conditioners are going full blast on an extremely low setting in these same stores. Upon entry, you instantly suffer from hypothermia. Not only that, I can almost swear that I've noticed icicles form on peoples' noses in the freezer aisles.

Today, I was wearing capris, fitflops and a loose shirt. My daughter was in a lovely strapless sundress and sandals. We entered a certain large department store that sells everything from gravel to groceries and in less time than it takes to say brrrrrr.....we both crossed our arms over ourselves and began rubbing our own shoulders. We noticed numerous other shoppers participating in a similar activity. At this point, we decided to head back outside, get a blast of warm air, a shopping cart and try again.

Upon re-entry into Santa's summer home "the girl" made an announcement."Let's go into the clothing section, and select some warmer outfits to wear while we shop."

She's a genius! I always knew it.

We had some laughs as we tried on an assortment of items, sweaters and the like until we both found a suitable hoodie which would complement our outfits. "The girl" picked a rich royal blue and I selected my favourite shade of cozy gray. The goosebumps were temporarily erradicated and we continued to shop.

"Hey mom, look...track pants. We could just keep putting on layers until we are warm enough. Ooooohhhhh, socks too."

She's a genius, and funny too!

While we continued loading our shopping cart, I noticed the envied stares of other customers who wished they had dressed for this frigid indoor weather. Clearly, they hadn't seen the store tags dangling from our new ensembles. As we lined up to check out, we realized that it would be necessary to dispose of some of our attire. We established a place in line, parked our cart, then we nonchalantly removed the items, gathered them in our arms and unloaded them on the nearest shelves.

"Well", my daughter said, "we did them a favour. Not only did we stay and shop, but cleaning all that up should keep some store employee busy....and warm."

Genius!

Honk if You Like Geese and Ducks

I have a history with ducks. Ever since I hatched my first ducklings in the late 90's I have had an affinity for the feathery little creatures.

I'd like to think that over the years, I've become quite the duck expert. For example, ducks take 28 days to grow and develop inside their little orbs. They can instinctively swim upon hatching and need very little instruction to locate food. Clever.

A couple days ago I happened to be down by the lake. At the marina, there's a lovely area with a large sandbank. I saw dozens upon dozens of ducks, geese, swans and seagulls in the water. I've never seen so much wildlife in such a small area. In fact, counting them would have been impossible.

I wandered along the sandy beach, took a few photos and observed for a time. It was a lovely day and the sky was blue. I was amazed at the sight of all these magnificent groups of birds. As I turned to walk back toward the parking lot, I had the sense that I was being followed. I turned and saw a few ducks behind me. Although I was well aware of the concept of "imprinting" these ducks were not babies. Then, I noticed that the throngs, or gaggles as it were, of geese on the lake were also pointing in my direction. I became a bit unnerved but continued to walk gingerly across the sand trying to avoid soiling my shoes with the assorted droppings.

When many of the birds, left the water and began closing in, I decided to back away, rather than walk away from them. It made me feel more secure somehow and allowed me to be more aware of the goings on behind my back. I realized too, that I was having a brief flashback of a Hitchcock movie and didn't like the eerie feeling I was getting. On the other hand, it was kind of unusual. There were people in the parking lot looking somewhat perplexed when they spotted my following.

My feathery friends couldn't be dissauded and continued getting closer. At this point, I was close enough to the car that I turned, ran and leapt into the auto. I'm not certain how I created this hypnotic effect on the wildlife. Maybe they just liked having their pictures taken. On the other hand, I would be flattered if someone wanted to call me "The Duck Whisperer".
"Don't Get One Webbed Foot Closer!"

My Bucket List

The other day, I looked up the Queen Elizabeth's very rigorous itinerary. It was then that I decided to go and see her when she's in Toronto next week. No real reason to do so except that I can. After all she's 84. I have not made the effort during any of her previous 22 visits to Canada. Life got in the way. Now, there aren't likely to be that many more opportunities. My husband (the American), refrained from making an anti monarchist statement, but asked whether this was on my bucket list. "Hmmm", I said. "No, but I could add it."

This got me thinking about "Bucket Lists". What is the appropriate protocol for creating this? Are you allowed to keep adding things to your bucket list? What if you run out of stuff, have done it all and aren't dead? Is that a problem? So here is the beginning of my list. It is by no means complete and not in order of preference. Some items are fun, some a little more serious.

I haven't included on my list such activities as rock climbing, ocean kayaking, hot air ballooning, white water rafting, helicopter flight, roller blading/ ice skating on a ship, scuba diving, sharpshooting, archery, driving on the Mosport race track, raising poultry or picking dew worms. I've done that. It also doesn't contain bungee jumping or eating maggots. I won't do that.

Here's what I have so far, in no particular order.

Write my own eulogy (I want it to be good)
Walk around wearing a boa (over my clothes) but not in Oshawa because it's normal there
Go out with a man who is wearing a tuxedo (hmmm....any offers?)
Line up and get one of the free Honest Ed holiday turkey giveaways (too late boohoo)
Go from Florida to the Bahamas in a hovercraft
Go look at the Queen or go see Queen (whichever opportunity arises)
See the Mona Lisa (the one in the Louvre, not my friend Mona Lisa in Courtice) and go to other assorted European galleries   (been to Paris and saw the Louvre...just as good)
See something Gaudi
Go to the Quebec Winter Carnival and see Bonhomme
Go to the Rose Bowl Parade or get someone to give me a bowl of roses during a parade
Take a river cruise (preferrably on one that's not overflowing or dried up)
Write something that gets published (blogs and church newsletters don't count)  A year and a half of newspaper columns did it.
Ride on the Trans Siberian Railway
Walk on every street in Cobourg ( I'm getting there)
See the final episode of "As The World Turns" (this may come sooner than anticipated...see previous blog)
See a live World Series game (preferrably with Blue Jays in it)
See at least 5 things on the list of "World's Largest" (I think I've seen the world's largest goose so far if it's in Wawa)
Organize a photo album for each of my kids (so they remember the great things I did for them)
Paint some pictures (I've done walls, now on to smaller things)
Take a university course
Learn cake decorating (I have a burning desire to find out what fondant is)
Be a mystery shopper
Take a flower arranging course
See my kids successful, married etc. (perhaps I should settle for finished school and employed)
Go to the WLU 50th alumni reunion in 2020
Attend the hot air balloon festival in New Mexico
Go to the Kentucky Derby, wear a hat and drink a mint julep
Enter a contest - writing or photo/Win a contest (lotteries count)
Go to "The Gun Store" in Las Vegas and fire an unusual weapon
Live in a houseboat
Go to misc. festivals -Toronto film, authors
Attend a Canadian (or other) figure skating competition
Ride a segway
Go see a groundhog on Feb. 2....Wiarton or Pux..er...you know
See some live local and non local t.v. shows - Battle of the Blades, Cityline too late for Oprah but maybe Letterman or Ellen
Visit these places: Galapagos, Dubai, Antarctica (not on foot, maybe a cruise), NZ/Australia, Africa (pyramids and wildlife), Mediterranean, Newfoundland (Fogo, Twillingate, Moreton's Harbour) done, summer 2015 , Quebec Winter Carnival (J'aime Bonhomme), Iceland, South Seas, Thailand, Japan.

I believe that the point of a bucket list is to write down your intentions in order to organize ideas, plan and visualize what you are going to do. It may be similar to the "mental rehearsal" done by athletes, the agendas kept by students, business people and others, and the "to do" lists of many homemakers. The act of creating this, helps to clarify desires in one's mind. On the other hand, it might only be a list of dreams. I think I might have enough dreams on my very substantial list to keep me busy for a few years. I am excited to whittle away at it. I certainly hope to get through a lot of items before I take "the great dirt nap" but just in case, perhaps I'd better get started on the first component of the list in the not too distant future.