The Moon Was So Bright That....

On March 19, 2011 we were treated to a relatively rare and extremely bright "supermoon". By definition, a supermoon is a full moon, close to the earth. Yesterday, the sky was clear and we had a good view of such a moon. After driving down to the lake we saw many people gathered with their telescopic lenses and monstrous cameras. My small Canon is neither monstrous nor does it have any spectacular features. I did not get fabulous moon shots, but I did get some interesting photos with and without a flash which I shall now share.

It's A Dog's Life

I am not now, nor have I ever been a "dog person". Perhaps it's because I'm allergic to all things furry and feathery. Maybe it's because my mom was deathly afraid of dogs. In my opinion, dogs require too much care and attention, are a huge responsibility and a big expense. Having said all that, and before the world's dog owners pounce on me and call me an evil dog hater, know that I am not. I will say that I understand. I really do. I get it. It's that whole issue of unconditional love when you're feeling unloved, unlovable and unworthy. It's the sense of being needed and depended upon. And of course, dogs, unlike some human offspring are responsive, appreciative and you can teach them things. Should you accidentally kick a dog, the dog apologizes by whining and allowing you to pet it. It then transfers your guilt onto itself for having been in your way. Nonetheless, I would never deliberately own a dog.



dog in question...name, Amber

Currently, I'm a stepmom to a dog. I like this dog. She's cute, she's clever and she's funny. I enjoy having her around. I brush her and trim her. I cook meals for her and I talk to her. I take her for walks and on squirrel hunts. I scoop her poop and I play with her. I've even considered writing a children's book about her. I can see it now, "Amber's Antics" or "Dachsie's Dilemma". Perhaps I could create a whole series. 

I have recently researched dog idioms. Apparently many of the expressions about dogs originated during a time long ago when dogs were not treated as they are nowadays. Dogs were used for work and usually had to live outdoors in harsh conditions, fighting for food and survival. The term "it's a dog's life" and many others were once used to refer to a difficult and challenging existence. Just think about any phrases that you've heard from "hair of the dog" to "see a man about a dog" and "tail wagging the dog". There are dozens.



"Let's let sleeping dogs lie."

I believe that lots of  our well known canine quotes have quite a different meaning in today's culture. I'll let you be the judge. Here are my photo illustrations and observations of the true meaning of, "It's a dog's life".

"It's a dog's breakfast"
Veggies, potatoes and steak? 



"Love me, love my dog" or
   in this case my lapdog.

                                                  

 "Fighting like dogs and cats."
Yeah, right.

                                                                                              

"It's raining cats and dogs."
(with coats)


 

                                                            




"She's a bird dog."

              

"It's a dog eat dog world."



"Every dog has her day."



 


"Like a dog with a bone."

 


Yes indeed, "It's A Dog's Life."

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    





                                                                        

                       

                                                                                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                                                          

                                                    



                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

                                    

                                                                       













Woman on a mission...

There it was! The familiar sound of the whirring rotor. It was getting closer! As usual, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why did I have to be standing on my deck? I should have be sitting in my parked car in a lot near the water tower. There, my vision would have unfolded just as I've imagined it so often. Perhaps there was still time. I darted out the door, grabbing my keys, coat and camera. Breathlessly, I prepared to hop into the car. Then I saw it. My neighbour was mowing his lawn. No helicopter, just a lawnmower. Drat!

There was a time many years ago when I slept very poorly. I was solely responsible for the care and rearing of a pair of young children and this caused me to be a light sleeper. During my snoozes, my imagination went wild with ideas. I would wake up in the middle of the night and lie in bed with a head full of crazy thoughts. I  I finally kept a notebook and pen on the nightstand to write down my dreams. Once, I woke up with an entire elementary school musical writing itself in my head. It contained rabbits, singing watering cans and dancing carrots. I was thrilled when it came to fruition on the school stage a few months later. Another time, I woke up to discover that my scribblings contained an idea for a dating service for frogs. Ok, so that one wasn't one of my more brilliant visions. I suspect that it either came shortly after I read "The Frog Prince" to a class of kindergarteners, or following a particularly dull date. That's how it goes in dreams though isn't it?  I used to have these nutty ideas in my sleep. Now that I actually sleep much of the night, I seem to have them in broad daylight.

So what is my latest crazy idea?  I am on a mission. I am determined to photograph the hospital helicopter shortly before it lands. The sky must be blue and the helicopter must be of the ORNG variety.

I first saw the most amazing picture on a cool but sunny day about a year ago! Magnificent. The orange helicopter was low against the blue sky with the backdrop of the water tower, it's rotors slowing as it lowered itself toward the hospital. A perfect photo opportunity! Unfortunately, I was shopping at the time and couldn't get my camera out fast enough. I figured what comes down must certainly go back up, right? I immediately abandoned my errands and wheeled the van into a perfect parking location with both the water tower and the helipad in my sites. There, I waited, and waited, and waited but there was no sign of movement. It wasn't going anyplace but after waiting for almost an hour with no activity, I finally needed to leave.

I had several more sightings...once when leaving for work and several times when the sky was too overcast to create the picture which is now etched in my mind.

Today, I heard the famous helicopter. The sky was blue. I drove to the road near the hospital. I parked. I managed to snap two photos as ORNG left the hospital, went up in the air, and was gone in a flash. It's not the photo I imagined but it's the photo I got.

I am persistent and will not rest until I get my award winning shot...orange helicopter coming down for a landing as it passes not behind, but in front of the water tower.

Nope, I Didn't Write It

 On February 12th, hubby handed me a page from the Saturday newspaper and said, "This looks like something you wrote."  The article in The TorontoStar: "Women with children are not handicapped" by Lorraine Sommerfeld covers many but not quite all of my sentiments.                              
                               

 For some time, I have been bending hubby's ear about these particular signs ("Parking For Customer With Child" and "Expectant Mothers") which are sprouting in public parking areas everywhere. I have been reluctant to express my opinion in writing. At the risk of sounding like a bitter, older person, envious of opportunities which were not afforded my generation, I shall share my thoughts now.

Sommerfeld's article makes many good points. Pregnancy is neither an illness, nor a handicap and should not be treated as either when it comes to parking lots. Courtesy seating on buses and subways is another matter entirely. I too would expect people on public transit to give up seats not only to expectant women but also to the elderly. That's how I was raised.  Sommerfeld suggests that parking in specialized "customer with child" prime locations not only deprives parents and children of exercise, but also of a learning opportunity. As it is, children are chauffeured everywhere and fitness levels are steadily declining. I couldn't agree more.

Believe me, I've heard all the arguments. "What about the winter time, when they have strollers and there's snow?"

What about it?  If the weather is too inclement, is it really necessary to bundle up the kids, go out and risk your children's lives by driving to stores and shopping malls? Do parents bring strollers into every locale with them? Are retail store parking lots not cleared of snow even sooner than our own roads and driveways?   

I would like to ask those who feel the need for these signs, where are the parking spots for the elderly? Let's just say, those over 65 or 70 or 75 who wake up in the morning with aching, arthritic joints. With our aging population, the numbers who fall into this category are rapildy increasing. They don't necessarily qualify as handicapped and with all the megastores around nowadays, it's challenging enough for older people to comfortably negotiate these huge areas to make their purchases. Why should they also have to park further away and walk because of these spots which are reserved for the young and healthy? At least give them an equal opportunity to get one of the closer spots by removing these ridiculous signs.

This whole thing is folly. Studies have shown that the next generation is less healthy and will not live as long as ours. This coddling is part of the reason. What will happen to the youngsters produced by the current generation?  Are they already being taught inactivity before they're born and having that message reinforced during their formative years?

That's just my commentary on Lorraine Sommerfeld's article which in my opinion is receiving far too much criticism.

Updates - Diet, Samples & Streetwalking

Here are updates on some of my former blogs "Why Weight...Confessions", "But...But...But It Was Free", and "Streetwalking...the oldest."

Diet

One week of my new lifestyle is over. The first few days were a bit of a struggle, in part because of a rather large slab of apple streusel cake that I had previously baked. Then I decided, there's nothing wrong with having one piece. I am keeping a calorie tally each day and trying to stay below 1200. It doesn't work to have a slice of cake, eat healthfully and stay below that level of consumption for the day. No more cake for me.



A lucky find

While I was driving through town last week, I was fortunate to observe this sign. What a great find. This could be the best free sample of all time. I immediately entered "Curves" and learned that this was in fact a free month and that I did not need to sign up for ten years in order to take advantage of this promotion.

I have now completed their half hour circuit seven
times, worked out at my old gym twice and gone to Zumba with a friend in a nearby town. I've even managed a few trips around the block with the dog and a half hour of Wii Fit.

I am 3 pounds lighter than I was one week ago. It's hard work and  I have found that keeping a "downward" progress graph helps with my motivation. Since a pound of muscle burns twelve times more calories than a pound of fat, I have determined that I will have to increase my exercise levels.

Samples

creams, laundry stuff & propaganda



My treasure trove of samples continues to arrive. I am so excited by the loot each day that I am actually combining dog walking exercise with going to check the mailbox myself. Now that I'm into the "free sample" swing of things, I have reached the conclusion that maybe I don't need to order everything there is. For example, today I resisted acquiring a pair of "Underjams" for kids. I can only assume they are some kind of diaper/training pant type of item. On the other hand, perhaps I should have ordered it just to keep myself informed about the latest greatest in diaper technology.                                          

cutest little teeny kleenex box ever

meat for dinner tonight

                                                              
Today, I learned that I have acquired free tickets to a t.v. programme. On March 29th, I will be going to see the "Marilyn Denis Show" on CTV where I will hopefully receive a fabulous audience prize.
                                                                                          

Streetwalking

I have not yet finished exploring this town and walking on all streets. I completed about 2/3 of the streets when life, a few vacations, illness and a nasty cold, snowy, winter got in the way. I plan to finish what I started and I still have my old map marked with roads that I've completed. The many new streets and housing developments that have popped up in the last year will add to my adventures.

Why Weight? Confessions of a Career Dieter

I know this might come as a huge shock to all three of my loyal readers, but I am overweight. I have a fat problem. I'm probably not described as morbidly obese, but then I'm afraid to check a medical dictionary for a specific definition of that term. I don't have hundreds of pounds to lose, however, I am considerably beyond an acceptable weight for my ever shrinking height. I am also well over an acceptable weight for my ever shrinking wardrobe.  
                                                      

With age, my shape has become unusual if not unbalanced. I now look much more like SpongeBob Square Pants with the skinny legs eminating from a rectangular upper body. On the bright side, I have been noting that this physique is common to about a third of women my age.                                                  
                          
I always tell myself that I'm in good company when it comes to my weight. After all, Oprah is hefty, and has been for most of her tv life.  Despite her private pain and public struggles with weight, despite having money, having chefs and trainers, she's still not a small woman.

 I don't blame anyone for my "fluffiness". There were no magazines with skinny models or tv shows with anorexic actors that caused me to have body image problems. I think arguments to that effect are excuses at best. In fact, too many people use excuses for their shortcomings...."I don't have time, my kids... my job...my husband, I'm too tired... too stressed...." and so on and so on.

On the other hand, some peoples' struggles, with weight or whatever the issues, might be traced back to childhood. I certainly remember being called "fat" by my peers. Strange though as I look at photos from my youth, I realize that I not only looked absolutely normal but I was even bordering on slim. I think that there must have been different reasons why I was sometimes called names. Not only did my classmates have their own insecurities, but also, now that I'm slightly more mature, I have come to understand that they were obviously jealous. Besides having the splendid name of a saint, I always sported the most lovely pair of laced up Buster Brown shoes to accessorize my pretty pink party dress. Envy, I see it now. That's all it was.

My leanest years were in my twenties when I lived on the 10th floor of an apartment building which, because of an unfortunate union dispute, had no elevator. I was fit, and the stairs were a breeze, even on laundry day. I owned no car, walked everywhere and played squash with my friends. After awhile, a car and an elevator arrived on the scene, parties increased, physical activities slowed down, and weight began to creep up, one draft beer, one chicken wing at a time.

I remember my first diet clearly. I wrote down my consumption each day, limited myself to 500 calories and became unbearable, obnoxious, but nonetheless thin. Oh, and those 500 calories usually included several cups of black tea which I counted at 35 calories a piece. Exaggeration couldn't hurt could it? It did. An unrealistic lifestyle and  the shock of being called "phat" while sporting a silver bikini led to regaining some of the weight. I was not yet ready to see myself as others saw me.

My next adventure was with a now defunct diet club. I don't remember much about it except that I ate a lot of cottage cheese on toast and created pancakes out of sliced and blenderized bread. Once again, my weight dropped. It was amazing. I didn't even have to cut my toenails, get a haircut or shave my legs to ensure a weekly loss. It was all so easy in my younger years.

Then I had children. One can only use them as an excuse for so long. I have surpassed the 20 year baby fat limit.

And so, over the years, I tried various diets. I never did anything drastic, expensive or fad-like. I avoided the urine injections and resisted the temptation to swallow a tapeworm. No preportioned dinners were delivered to my home and I did not consume small jars of baby food. I confess that I did try the cabbage soup diet and survived for about two days.

For awhile, I gave up dieting using the argument of balance in the universe as my defence. There's only so much fat in the world and every time one person takes it off, another puts it on. I was convinced I was sparing someone the terrible fate of weight gain through my own martyrdom. After sitting on the sofa, eating popcorn and watching a few episodes of "The Biggest Loser", I once again became realistic about how weight gain actually happens.

I've lost weight and I've gained it back. It's a vicious cycle. I dieted without concern for my health. Most of the time, I just wanted to look better...vanity. For some, that's a motivator. As I aged, it became less and less so.

Some of my best memories and most fun times were spent when a couple of my neighbours and I attended  a diet group together. We would encourage each other and go for walks in the evenings. It was relaxing, good for us and we had lots of laughs.

After moving away from my supportive neighbours, I went to a new meeting where I attempted to count points. I know this works successfully for many people. For me, it was not only costly but complex. Since I usually got up quite early in the mornings, I couldn't figure out how to get past noon without running out of points. One choice was to go to bed at 6 p.m. just to stay on track....not great for the social life.

So now, what am I to do? I have attended a non profit weight loss support group in my town for awhile. I lost some weight by monitoring my intake and exercising each day, changing my lifestyle, the only way. At least I was a healthy overweight person. Then I got ill and gained weight.

I suppose I am writing this out of my current state of fat frustration. My metabolism has never been great and now it's defunct, as is my motivation. My knees hurt and my breathing is suffering.

At my age it is necessary to reduce calories, eat thoughtfully and increase metabolism to maintain ultimate health. My "Bucket List" is too long to give up now.                                                      
                           

My Wii Mii (before)

So like the alcoholic who confesses in front of an audience of his/her peers...I need to say that "I am Hilde and my caloric intake is higher than what I burn off ." I am hereby making a public pledge to get back to controlling my portions, eating healthfully and exercising. This is no longer for the sake of vanity, but for the sake of my health. I shall begin today and "this will be the first day of a lifestyle change that will last for the rest of my life".                                     


My Wii Mii (after)...The upper arms seem doomed forever!






Fabulous February !

I've always been a "motif" kind of person. After my retirement and seeing an episode of "What Not to Wear", I eliminated much of the themed clothing from my wardrobe. Gone are the apple, pumpkin, and bunny shirts, the seasonal socks and most of the Christmas and Halloween earrings. My clothing is now more befitting an elderly retired person. Fortunately, I still have my tickle trunk full of costumes and my plastic bins containing specialized decor.   
                                              

My house often shows evidence of my former self. I love to decorate and celebrate. That's what life is all about isn't it? We celebrate. Sometimes, we celebrate our good fortune in waking up and living life another day. We celebrate our health and our history. Many of our most memorable celebrations take place with family and friends. What a joy it is to spend important and not so important occasions with special people.
 

February is one of the best, busiest months for celebrating. Not only is it the shortest month of the year, but it has holidays, events and festivities galore. February arrives as we are nearing the end of the long, cold, winter season. If you don't believe me, just ask the groundhog who thankfully predicted an early spring this year.

Not far behind Groundhog Day comes Chinese New Year, resplendent with dragons, loud drums and fireworks, parades and the colour red...my favourite. Welcome to the "Year of the Rabbit."

                                                                                                                                                                                           

Valentine's Day is a day of love. We see hearts, flowers and goodies everywhere and we like to share these with special people. It's a time to show extra kindness and give some added attention, particularly to those we care about most.

Many towns and cities have a "Winter Festival" in February. Some even include a polar bear dip for those brave souls who insist on plunging into the freezing water. Ice sculptures, skaters, horse drawn carriage rides and musical events abound.                              

                                                                                           

And now, we have added a relatively new celebration to the February repertoire, "Family Day". Since this coincides with the American "Presidents' Day", we were fortunate to have family members visiting from New York this year. We had a lovely time, as we walked, talked, made plans, saw sites, played games and of course, ate. This was the true definition of not just a family day, but family weekend.  What a lovely culmination to a wonderful winter month.  

John and Karen on the beach



Quest for Coffee

It's once again time for that annual national event called "Rrrrrroll up the Rim" at Tim Horton's. This marks the 25th anniversary of this particular contest and reminds me of a time when I too became a member of the Tim Horton's fan club.

I started drinking coffee at some point during my 50th year of life. Before that, I had no idea what would possess anyone to consume such a foul smelling and tasting brown mud. When I turned 50, as if by some evil spell, it became just a tad more difficult to wake up in the morning.  Moving as quickly as in the past became a challenge. In fact, I had no interest in rushing. My car pretty much started going the speed limit. If I annoyed the young nintendo game playing drivers behind me, so be it. I got there when I got there.

Someone at work suggested a boost of caffeine to help me face the day. I did not own a coffee pot, so I bought some instant coffee. For awhile, I gagged down one cup each morning and it seemed to do the trick. Occasionally a bottle of "Jolt" took its place. One day, a friend aked if we could meet at Tim Horton's after work. I had seen lineups at this donut shop and was always curious as to how every street corner in town could sustain such a facility. I agreed to go and selected an adulterated form of coffee beverage called "french vanilla capuccino". Since I've long been a vanilla addict, I quite enjoyed it.  From that point on, I was hooked. I too picked up the occasional coffee treat from Tim's.

There are those who claim there's an additive in Tim's coffee that has turned an entire nation into sheep. A ridiculous suggestion. I started to join the "drive through" generation..."baaaaaa".  I eventually substitued a lower calorie large, double milk, double sweetener, a lower calorie option for my french vanilla. I too began to pick up my Timmie's on my way to work, several mornings a week.

The following spring, I discovered that Tim's customers sometimes had the additional incentive of winning valuable prizes....cars, money, barbeques and the ever popular free coffee or donut. It was that time of year again. One year, when it got near mid April the cups started to run out.  Since I had not yet won a major prize, and since I'm a stubborn only child who at that time still had an overwhelming need to win, I became more determined than ever. I dedicated my days to locating any Tim's within a reasonable distance of home or work, seeking these magical containers. The most congested traffic areas naturally ran out of the cups quickly. As I was about to give up in disgust, I remembered a little known Tim's in the town where I worked. It took me an extra 20 minutes to get to my destination on that day, but it was worth it. As I drove through, I ordered my usual large, double milk, double sweetener. Oh no! I got the old brown cup. Then I spied it through the window! The most magnificent sight I had seen in days...roll up the rim cups in size extra large. My spirit soared. My head started spinning. After regaining my composure, I realized that there was only one option. I would not be dissuaded. I parked my vehicle.

I got out of the car, went inside and gleefully ordered "extra large, double...er...triple milk, double sweetener...to go". With my familiar. size large, brown, drive through cup in one cup holder and my brilliant red and yellow extra large in the other, I triumphantly drove to work. I also consumed more than my usual amount of caffeine that day. 

The famous cup

 I did never did roll up the rim of my final cup. I was worried that it would say "Try again" and I knew that I couldn't. Besides, as long as I didn't know, I hadn't lost.                                        
So now, it's "Rrrrrroll up the rim" season again. I haven't gone to Tim's much since my retirement. I think I'll have to do that one of these days, for old time's or maybe old Tim`s sake.  

Computers for Dummies or Photoshop for Pros?

I am taking a photoshop course at the local college. The instructor is a lovely young woman and professional photographer. Prior to registering for the course, I spoke to her and asked how basic the information would be. She gave the appropriate response. People would be at various stages and could work at their own level. Even if some were more advanced, it wouldn't matter. I accepted this and registered.

Classes began. Last week, we were asked to bring our cameras. As everyone removed their hubble telescopes from their suitcases, I was trying to come up with an excuse to keep from unearthing the small Nikon from my purse. After looking around the room and noting that there were in fact a few people whose equipment was also dimensionally challenged, I produced my camera. As the instructor talked about settings, speed, f-stops, blurry foregrounds and backgrounds, I admired my automatic settings...the little face for closeups, the mountain for far away, the moon and stars for night shots, the dog for photographing...hmm...dogs? It was all I needed.
 
At yesterday's session, "retouching faces", I began working at my own level. After getting some help to turn on the computer, I entered my name and password. In fairness, the lights were off, my vision is old and it was too dark to see any kind of unmarked "on" button on a black computer. As I tried to access the Photoshop programme, the instructor began to talk about blowouts, RCB and opacity. I listened while searching for the correct programme. I looked for a handout which might contain this basic information and finding none, I continued to experiment. Why couldn't this be easy like my computer at home which has a Photoshop desktop icon? No such luck here and no info in my piles of notes. Nonetheless, I found the programme after my third try. Then I wondered whether I should go to dictionary.com to decipher the instructor's aforementioned terminology. I thought it better to listen and take profuse notes.

I scribbled as fast as I could for almost an hour, while attempting to watch an overhead screen to keep up. On this large screen, a photo of older woman's face was magically transformed with healing brushes, clone brushes, layers, eyedroppers, saturation, highlights, erasers and more. Her teeth were lassoed and whitened, skin evened, eyes brightened and wrinkles removed. Wrinkle removal? I was  listening even more intently. We then were shown how to use a marquis tool to move heads from one location to another and were shown how to shift the shape. "Select head, control C, over, then control B, select, copy, paste, lower opacity, erase, bring opacity up, final erasing, flatten layer, then save as....." I know this is accurate. I have no idea how to do it but I wrote it all down. I looked around the room and saw several other people with glazed over eyes.

Finally, it was  time to work on our own. I found a photo of myself and enlarged my face. Yikes! Scary at best, particularly when I couldn't get the magnifier to stop! I turned off the programme and started again. This time, I succeeded in stopping at 200%. After an extensive search of my face, I finally found a wrinkle I could attempt to remove. I tried to locate the "clone brush". There is no such thing, so I used the stamp...not bad if you don't mind white circles all over your photo. Next, I wanted to remove a stray hair which was blowing in the wind. Suddenly, I found myself depositing checkerboards everywhere  and what were those black globs where my hair should have been? I panicked, tried to erase but created more dark desposits. I looked around to see if anyone was watching and turned off the programme only to restart for a third time. At least I was locating Photoshop more quickly now. At this point, the instructor showed up to view my progress. She looked at my computer and curiously searched "history" to see what I'd done. Then she showed me how to create a "layer". I asked about the clone brush and was told, " Oh, it's a stamp. I forgot. You're doing well. Even if that's all you learn, it's o.k."

If what's all I learn? What have I learned today? I managed to find the computer "on" button, restart the programme several times and yes, there was that magnification of my face.

I noticed or perhaps imagined that the instructor avoided my seating area, spent a brief time with a few students who looked panic stricken, and then, finally settled herself in near the "smart kids". That was ok with me as I eventually started started frittering, fidgeting and fiddling. I studied the contents of my purse and consumed aTums I found near the bottom. I checked my phone, admired my new handbag organizer, clicked all my pens to make sure they would work and pulled out my notebook. While on the verge of tears, I jotted down a note "This is like trying to learn a foreign language. I have never felt so stupid and inept in my life....well, maybe I have."

I suddenly realized that I had in fact learned something today. It was something that I already knew, but had not thought about since my retirement as an educator. As a result of my current college experience, I remembered 'learning styles" and the importance of addressing these when teaching children or adults for that matter. I understood the frustration and sadness of those who have difficulty learning. I could see why they get distracted and fuss around. I sympathized with their reasons for giving up and not trying any further. I appreciated the all too frequent bathroom trips and  hurry to leave class at the end of the day. Children do not always have the tools, the knowledge, the means or the ability to deal with their own frustrations. Their learning deficiencies end up turning into a viscious cycle of failure when in fact, many of them are of higher than average intelligence. They are afraid to ask for help lest they appear "stupid".

As an adult, I don't have to sit back as my esteem crashes and burns. Next week, I will speak to the instructor.

 "Hi. May I speak to you for a moment please? As you have gathered, I don't understand much of what you're saying and doing. I'm afraid that I'm a lot like the rest of the human population who can only absorb between 3 and 10 minutes of technical information at a time. Would it be possible for you to slow down and not present all the new information at once. Or, could we possibly complete each step with you? For example, last week, it would have been helpful for me, if I had my computer on and the programme ready before you started to speak. Then perhaps, if I had my photo in front of me, I could have completed the editing steps along with you and tried to do what you were showing us. This would have helped me remember and understand the new information more readily......"

I'll try this grown up way of dealing with the problem before I am tempted to become a dropout.

But, But, But...It Was Free !

I am retired, have not as yet begun my volunteering job and have taken only one college class in photoshop thus far. Since I recently had some extra frittering time, I became interested in another new challenge. It has the potential of being as time consuming as a job. We'll see how long I last.

A few years ago, I read an article in a local paper about a couple who won 83 prizes in one month. The prizes were worth over two thousand dollars. Their winnings included items that did not interest me in the least, baseball caps, soccer tickets and free downloads. I did however, find the concept fascinating and somewhat compelling.  I couldn't see spending the time and effort to submit thousands of contest ballots a month as this couple had. I did see merit in the idea of getting things free or at least at a reduced cost and thought that this would be a valuable use of some of my time each day.

Besides clipping, collecting and ordering coupons in my eternal effort to save money, I have begun to enter contests and have registered for free samples on several websites. Each day, I check my email, facebook and assorted sites for the samples of the day. As yet, I haven't rejected much and have dutifully filled out the form for almost anything that became available. I have sent for over 30 samples and as of today, have received one, just one, only one.  

Yummy...two cookie packettes and a coupon for a free box.

Interestingly enough, when you register for many of the free samples, they give you a tracking number. Imagine that. As if you were actually so worried about the location of your sample of "scaly foot heel balm", that you'd track it's daily progress on your computer and excitedly watch as made its way across the country.

After a few weeks of waiting, one delicious sample, pictured above, arrived. Perhaps I should have jotted down those tracking numbers after all.

I have two basic rules when I order free samples. I don't order items such as "free books". I have read the fine print and discovered that you are automatically registered in a book club requiring written cancellation. Should you fail to do this you will receive the next copy of your monthly book for the low, low price of $5.99 plus a mere $397 shipping and handling. Secondly, I refuse to give out my accurate birthdate. I see no reason for a company to require this information in order to send me a sample of fake nails or a new truck bed liner. So in this age of identity theft, I lie. I think it's more than enough that they know some form of my name, my home address and my junk email address.

As for coupons, there are many potential gathering grounds for these. I have determined that the ones available in grocery and drugstores are my favourite. They usually have the farthest in advance expiry dates. Newspaper inserts and websites that mail you coupons are also good. I learned that internet coupons that you print off yourself are sometimes a problem and are not taken at all locations. They are accepted at one of my favourite drugstore chains and despite the fact that it wasn't even seniors' day, I was able to amass these items with one of their coupons.

All this from just one coupon

So, I have randomly entered contests, requested coupons and sent for samples. I did not jot down my orders, but am fairly confident that any day my mailbox will be laden with enough cosmetics, perfume samples, paper products and food items to keep us clean, well fed and supplied with stocking stuffers and miscellaneous gifts for the next ten years.

I am now awaiting my contest prize of a trip to the West Indies, an Oscar party in L.A. with Elton John or if worst comes to worst, tickets to see the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Many of the free sample products appear to have something in common. They are definitely geared toward a target group....the females and the moms of the population. There have been some samples I needn't have ordered...but hey, the price was right. It was all free. As my mother used to say while knitting scarves from reclaimed socks and creating braided floor mats from shredded pantyhose, "You never know when you might need it some day." At least, that's the excuse hubby uses for all the hotel soaps and shampoos we've amassed.

Postal delivery usually comes around the same time each day. Since the neighbourhood is full of retirees, there is an afternoon trek to the super mailbox a block away.  Everyone eagerly anticipates their mail. Hubby takes advantage of the opportunity to socialize and walk the dog at this time. I wonder how he'll react the day that he opens the mailbox to find it overflowing with such treasures as a stress ball, hair dye, soaps, perfume, vitamins, stevia, baby food, wrinkle cream, GBG chewables, Dentyne gum, not to mention the feminine hygiene and incontinence products. I hope lots of neighbours are there to share that precious moment.