Two Parties Or Stay At Home

Given the choice of New Years Eve spent at one or both of the two parties I was kindly invited to or staying home, I opted for home sweet home. There are many reasons for my decision not the least of which is my increasing penchant for quiet as opposed to hustle and bustle. The New Years Eve party is however a different type of busyness. There are all manner of extra noisy possibilities from crackers to poppers and then some not to mention the neverending flow of all different types of booze, none of which appeal to me so in all aside from seeing friends albeit a bit less sober then usual, there is no reason for me to socialize, If it's t.v. that I choose as a companion there are any number of great holiday movies to watch and I don't even need to be a movie channel subscriber. All I really need is a varied selection of food and I'm good to go, or as in my particular case, to stay....home.
Happy New Year!!

Resolutions Anyone?

Over the past few weeks as we near the close of 2010, I have been mulling over the thought of writing a resolution handbook. At this time of year many of us begin to make a mental list of the possible/probable things we could/would change assuming that is, we have been blessed with some sense of conviction at the very least. I have always made very specific resolutions but never really considered that when seen through a different lens, resolutions are actually quite varied and multi dimensional so there would in fact certainly be plenty of pages in my 'resolution handbook'.
I have decided to divide the 'guide' into categories; for example: family,co-workers, boss, boss' boss, fellow drivers, pedestrians, shopkeepers, mechanics, postmen, government employees, students, teachers, Principals, doctors,handymen, electricians, personal trainers, chefs, etc.etc. It goes without saying of course, that within each category, there are sub categories. For example: teachers; the ones you admire, the ones you find useless, the ones who have passed their expiration date....I had mistakenly assumed that my 'book' would not in any way resemble a tome but would at best be a slim sized thing that could easily be tucked into ones side pocket, however the fact is that with the myriad of possible chapters and sub chapters we may just be talking about a coffee table sized publication!

Peking Duck Instead Of Turkey

Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing and cranberries, the perfect Christmas meal when you go the traditional route. If you suddenly decide to deviate from the tried, true and tired? you can well afford to be very selective especially as the options are so varied. You might like to mix it all up by having curry which can always be vegetarian if it's meat you seek to avoid, or you may choose to make a roast (beef or pork). Although there are many other alternatives, I have yet to hear a selection game meats being bandied about as possible replacements for THE bird. Somehow I do not think venison says Christmas anymore than 'lapin' so what to do if you do not want the usual Chinese, Italian or that old Canadian standard tourtiere to stand in for the turkey. We decided to try a semi quasi Chinese dish of peking duck because it is almost like fine dining as opposed to calico kitchen homestyle. It does come with crepes thus elevating it from mere everyday fare to something certainly more exotic than turkey and aside from the meat content, it is certainly more worthwile and I daresay flavourful than tofurkey!

My Fridge Is Too Full Or Why I Dread Christmas

Here it is the night before the EVE and as usual I have made my customary 3 trips to our local supermarket to 'stock up' before ALL stores close as they do every year. I am usually a once per week shopper and if I forget anything I can easily wait until the next shopping day, but something happens to me when I hear those Carols non-stop on the radio. They seem to trigger feelings of dread along with some aberrant behaviour over which I have no control. From early tomorrow until Sunday the 26th, I could be sitting here with an empty fridge and pantry with no place to buy any food or drink if I did not plan ahead. This is normally a good thing but in this case, not so much as I tend to over plan. In what I perceive to be a proactive/preventative manner I carefully plot my shopping but almost immediately after the bounty from trip number one has been unpacked and put away, my mind propels itself into the 'what if' sphere wherein I easily come up with a few more things that I just may want to make during the non-shopping days. This is clearly the impetus for trip number two. Upon my return from this second foray, I decide to preview some of my holiday dishes just to see if I have chosen well. What invariably occurs is that I so like this pre holiday meal that I go into panic mode when I realize that I do not have enough 'fixins' to duplicate the repast without yet another run to the store to top off the now lacking in quantity ingredients. Trip number three always begins with a solemn oath to self: I will NOT go back to the super duper food emporium until after Christmas. I do keep my promise and I must say it is perhaps partly because trip number three always results in a total reorganization of said fridge which seems to have taken on a life of its own, whining and bulging at the seams. I should have been a professional packer is another thing I say to myself as I strategically balance bottles and tubs in an effort to make it all fit and be visible at the same time.
Merry Christmas wishes to all..yes I know it's early but I'll definitely be too busy cooking and eating to blog!!

Don't Pay Attention To The Pope

Having recently heard the Pope quoted, giving his take on corruption in the church, there is only one clear conclusion to draw. Do not listen to the Pope!
The words that he he chooses to place blame with the abused public sector for the 'falling from grace' (spiralling??) of his 'holy' representatives is for me not unlike waving a red flag in the face of a rampaging bull. Whatever we are, we cannot possibly be as stupid as he seems to think we are, unless of course we idiotically give any kind of credence to his crazy ramblings. Unfortuantely I am sad to say, there are those for whom his declarations become thoughts by which to live, so I feel an obligation to reach out to anyone who is wavering on the sidelines, not quite committed but undecided..
My advice is simple and from the heart; Know that at the end of the day, a pedophile is a pedophile whose actions we are not responsible for, no matter what our lifestyles. Don't pay attention to the Pope!

The Cardamom Caper

It never occurred to me-until now that is- that bakers may have ulterior motives when choosing what to prepare. I innocently believed that the 'baking' motive was purely altruistic, but I stand corrected as well as a few pounds heavier!
Last night I tasted a homemade cardamom cookie topped by chocolate and an ancient family secret icing that nearly defies description. Each bite was a completely different pocket of flavour, and even after the last crumb had been savoured, and especially after that, I still could not tell you in one or two words, what the cookie tasted like. A cookie that laughs in the face of ordinary descriptors defies being labelled by mere words. This then must be the result the baker sought when he embarked on his cardamom sojourn. He had planned it all; he wanted us (his wife and I)to experience all that this multifaceted spice has to offer, and at the end of the day he probably wanted to render us speechless...we did do a fair amount of talking!! Why else? you might ask, but to this question I do have an answer. Any gifted baker who sets out on the cardamom trail wants to render us speechless so that we can fully enjoy the fruits of his labour and get down to the importance of eating that last cookie on the plate. Of course, it goes without saying that when words fail, hearfelt and honest oohs and aahs fill in the blanks, PERFECTLY!!

Regifting and Then Some

Tis the season and all but no matter what a bad rap re-gifting gets, I believe that it is the only way to fly if you are like me, budget conscious and hate the madness of the shopping malls and stores during the Christmas rush. The solution to all your gift buying angst is easily found through re-gifting in time. This is a fairly new approach and takes re-gifting to another level where it is definitely less easy to tell. The trick is to amass a collection of useless (to you) presents throuh the years and then say 5 years down the road when everyones memory is a tad less sharp, you simply return 'said' gift to the very person who gave it to you! Isn't that brilliant? No way will anyone on your receiving list be able to launch an acceptable protest regarding your gift because they'd have to first admonish themselves for once upon a time gifting you with something 'similar'; however they'll never in their wildest dreams believe that the gift they hold in their hands is one and the same as the one they bought for you.
Regifting (in time) is so much better than time sharing.

Food Processing

I think the time has come to confess my addiction to cooking shows. For the past 6 months I have been a closet tube watcher culling a 'favourites list' from among all those shows available on the Food Network. Mercifully I have narrowed my preferences down to a mere 3 programs which thankfully has resulted in many less hours of television watching and less of a food obsession. This has in turn helped me maintain a steadier bank balance as I no longer dash madly about buying assorted 'exotic' ingredients which are usually more costly than those which my normal standard menus require. This chain of positivity makes me feel less guilty when I have success with a new dish, ( from my preferred list of course) and for some inexplicable reason have no qualms about claiming the dish as my own! During what I now call my research period, I actually found myself using the mortar and pestle that had long been a decoration in my kitchen so we're talking serious addiction here...The only chink in my armour was the food proccessor. I had had one years ago but in my small living quarters, it just did not seem like a wise investment so clearly I was in a handicap position vis a vis the recipes I could/would attempt. As I have mentioned-in another blog- I am sometimes memory challenged so it will not surprise you to learn that I had completely forgotten about a teeny tiny food processor which I had received as a gift two years ago. Recently I had a yen to try my hand at homemade pesto and so strong was my desire that it prompted the sudden recall about the small box tucked away in the cupboard. I unearthed the brand new 'mini' processor and though I am normally appliance challenged, fate was kind and not only was 'my' pesto PERFECT, now the sky's the limit!!!

Two Came Back

At the end of the last school day before the holiday break, I stepped into the bustling hallway teeming with children racing for the exits and came face to face with two former students who had decided to return to their old stomping ground and in the spirit of Christmas past, visit their old teacher. When the initial joy of seeing them subsided I began to experience a myriad of feelings beginning of course with gratitude for the ability to recall (for the mostpart) the names to match the now grown up faces that I haven't seen in years. Incidentally this 'gratitude' thing kicks in every year after summer and Christmas break as I welcome my students back and shamefully have no choice but to use the phrase "John tell your friend who is sitting next to you on the right that it is his turn to read." Sightings of former students usually begin with the fear factor which is invariably linked to my memory and this only intensifies with each passing year. Once I am secure in the knowledge that the face really does match the name which I have pulled up from the recesses of an old teachers mind,the fun can and most certainly does begin.
The young adults begin the telling of 'their' story and as they talk the years since you've seen each other do a sort of time shifting dance while your memories sway you backwards, their words return you ever so gently to the here and now.
These 'reunions' are unplanned, unscripted and oh so much more meaningful when shared with colleagues who were active participants at the onset of the journey.

EDITING

When writing, editing is a given. There are a myriad of ways that a single letter error can totally change the bent of our missive so it is crucial if our words are to pack the punch we intended. Most of us are aware of this and conduct ourselves accordingly. If we are lucky, we may have a private editor standing by just in case we 'miss' something, but in the absence of that luxury we must remain ever vigilent.
If we truly know this, why do we not extend the parameters to include our oral communication? This might be a great idea as we do not have 'editers' who are ready and able to adjust our speech and ensure it is what we intended. Somehow before we know it, certain words are issued forth and though our external ear may know immediately that these words need instant recall, they are already out there and there is no delete button option. Perhaps if we elect to use 'thought' as our very own personal editors, we may stave off any fallout that will certainly occur when words are ejected willy nilly...a 'novel' approach??

TimeTravelling

There are often memories which inspire us to wish to time travel...backwards. Go figure because as every young person knows, the thing most wished for at that age, is a fast forward non-stop trip to adulthood. This is not merely a case of the grass being greener, it is true wishful thinking in all its glory. The young people never listen to the adult voices of experience who tell them that there is no rush..until after what seems an interminable passage of time, when they finally become the adults. Suddenly their vision is a perfect 20/20 and once the first blush of aging fades and the bloom is off the rose, the wistfulness is born. It builds steadily until perhaps 59 and then suddenly at its peak, the former youth experience that inexplicable yen to return to times past, too long ago. They yearn for a simpler time when life was less complicated, and they see nothing wrong with lamenting the fact that they did not enjoy their younger years when they should have. Depending on the individual and the strength of the lamentation, some actually do manage to return to their yesteryears, but the majority do not and that, in the interest of good mental health is probably the best news of all.

Writers Block

Recently a close family member informed me that he had been advised to write a blog but that he was having difficulty coming up with the 'what' of his blog to be. The 'why' needed no addressing as he was certain that this was not anything he aspired to yet he was perhaps willing to heed the 'you should have a blog' advice for very valid reasons. The 'what' however is proving to be an enigma for this young man and after much reflection I have figured out what really ails him. He has 'what' blog block. This is not to be confused with its way more popular cousin, 'writer's block.'It goes without saying that when it comes to writer's block, I know perfectly well whereof I speak and believe me, his disability is only temporary and is so much more cureable than mine.

Perception

Now that we are firmly insconced in fall and all that it brings, on the plus side, we can once again revel in the foliage and stand in awe amid the pallette of outrageous and varied bursts of vivd colours everywhere we look. On the downside, we wake up to the black darkness of night and if we stay late at work we return in like conditions. This phenomenon used to result in a depressing start to the day which never quite felt like day under cover of black sky, but a simple change in perception has resulted in a change of heart. I no longer wake up wanting to go back to sleep as per the colour of the sky; I now leap out of bed to face a new ROMANTIC day. Darkness and romance have always been intertwined so all we have to do is embrace the darkness as if we were about to go out on a fabulous romantic excursion, date? with the person of our dreams.
Fall is perfect for fostering mind shifting!

Heat Wave

We're having a heat wave, feels like a tropical one if I venture far from my air conditioned abode on foot. I opt instead to ride as my chariot has air but the minute I open the door to step out, the heat hits not unlike a tsunami even now at 10:00pm. Outside the air is dense, thick and sticky while inside it feels artificial but is mercifully cool. I am now 100% certain that I will always choose cool over heat if there is a weather selection/preference button to press. There are only so many articles of clothing which one can remove if out in public during a hot spell, while there are many layers in which to wrap oneself when faced with extreme cold so in the interest of modesty, I think we need to do away with these too hot days or face seeing way too much of certain people as they walk about in various stages of 'undress' supposedly in order to remain cool.

Graduation/Reunion

A last minute request by a former student found two friends, teachers, in attendance at a high school graduation. Having no tickets, they were prepared to sneak in a side door and stand at the rear, they were prepared to sit through all the pomp typically found at these functions but totally unprepared for the reception they received from about 3o of their now 'grown up' 'kids'. From their squatters seats at the very back of the ballroom (like nosebleed in a sports arena)they watched the young men and ladies form the lines which led them up to the stage to receive their diplomas. As the students in full graduate regalia passed by their grade seven teachers,they stepped briefly out of their lines. There were numerous quick hugs, smiles and total shock (but a good kind of shock) as they recognized their 'old' teachers and understood yet again, how special they were/are to them. When the ceremony ended the celebration really began. There were numerous family photo ops and then this small bubbly group of newly minted high school graduates gathered around the central fountain in the foyer, the teachers holding court surrounded by 'their' kids! They reminisced, caught up, had many more hugs and listened as these poised young adults shared the next steps in their educational journey. These two educators have always connected with students they teach, but this reunion was clearly much more of a confirmation that when you connect not only through 'expected' curriculum but most importantly through the heart, the ties are firm and binding..not even years that pass by can make them tenuous.

Father's Day Again

Whenever people express their disbelief at how fast a year has passed they will normally give you the occasion that has them noticing the fact that time really does not stand still.
For some it can be as simple as another birthday, for others it may be Christmas or a certain anniversary, whose date you cannot delete whether the anniversary is a happy memory or not.
What's funny to me is that these 'timely' reminders are usually happy even though we may rue the speedy passage of the year or years.
I do not remember the last Father's Day when my dad was still here but I do know that Father's Day has become a marker of time for me. It is with genuine surprise that I recognize the day not only as one that always reminds me of how long he has been gone, but it is also the day where I marvel at the healing that can occur- a bit at a time- year after year because I had once thought this would never happen. The incredible void that used to feel like a bottomless pit, has now been filled in just enough to let me breathe again. I am not at all certain if this 'filling in' will continue, or to what degree if it does, but I am sure that Father's Day will always take me by surprise and send me far back in time to a place where I loved celebrating the man who was the best dad in the whole world.

Dumb Moves

Everyone has regrets about things done or said with little prethinking. Generally we chalk them up to bad decisions but occasionally we deem our actions and/or words to simply be the end result of a 'dumb move'. We may name call in the heat of an argumentative moment and be overheard and reported on by an unseen set of ears. When in that situation, we cannot play the 'dumb move' card after we are outed because for those instances 'dumb move' doesn't quite cut it and grovelling seems like the best apologetic route to take in order to diffuse a growing time bomb. We may give a seemingly legitimate reason for why we cannot attend a certain family gathering perhaps citing a headache as the most non insulting excuse we can come up with but then we are outed again from what we were sure was the protective casing of our white lie and the situation progresses from bad to worse if we are 'caught' anywhere other than our local pharmacy or walkin clinic, dumb move?? We may want to impress someone special with our culinary prowess by having a gourmet meal delivered and transferred to our own cooking pans before we serve, but we will be outed if called upon a short week later, to duplicate the feast and find ourselves lacking..dumb move?? No, all of these are fabrications or lies which must first be confessed to before we trot out the 'dumb move' placebo or it will not stick. The best place to use the 'dumb move' tag is either when you find yourself in any type of idiotic one way relationship with either family members or friends, or when despite having a chronic back or weak knee condition, you lug the spring tires up from their winter habitat in the basement and actually carry them all the way upstairs and out to the driveway where you heave them into the car; DUMB MOVE indeed!!!!

Espresso

When I used to think of espresso I'd think of Paris. Sidewalk cafes, people watching, haughty waiters, well dressed Parisians and all manner of lap dogs with their glittery collars lying under those mini wrought iron tables as their owners indulged in a patisserie or two which was duly washed down with a bonafide espresso. That was before I entered the hallowed halls of seniority. Now at 60 if the espresso ever crosses my mind it is accompanied by that newly important question; is it decaf? I know that my pure espresso days are over and I am hard pressed to believe that any imitation via a decrease in caffeine, can ever be the perfect accompaniment to a warm afternoon spent in an outdoor cafe. I do not think I could manage to order an espresso decaf without incurring the disdain of my server. He and I would both know in our hearts that I was nothing more than an imposter cafe drinker!

Senior Dance Class

I accepted a lunch invite from a close friend despite receiving advance info that she was having a woman come in to teach line dancing to the assembled gaggle of geese. I say 'despite' because as I have said, I am NOT a dancer and considering my disregard for country music this is obviously a double edged sword, or triple if you consider that I do not normally care to be part of groups of ladies who lunch. But these ladies are all special to a fault so it is less than a surprise to find myself easing into line and dancing to a new twist on line dancing..the oldies...no heartbreak music for us. Maybe Perry Como is in part responsible for my quickly falling into line but in the end, with each new two step and and forward walk kick, my confidence soars until I am in full bloom, humming along as if I've been doing this forever, until the instructor tells us how quickly we 'SENIORS" seem to grasp the basics and that is when I deflate just as if I were a punctured balloon. I slink silently out of line and drop back onto the landing of the staircase, I seem to be a senior at a dance class.

Fifa Comes To A Screen Near You!!

After weeks of incredible hype, the day dawns and it is finally Fifa time. Some played hooky to watch it on their 'big screens' with surround sound, while others were actually present physically at their workplaces but doing no work at all as they watched it unfold on their office computers with their snappy earbuds in place. The pregame show was indeed a true extravaganza of music and costume not to mention a hefty dose of collapsable props but much waiting with baited breath went on in the hour leading up to game one until there it was, stadium extraordinaire with its lush green hue, so worth the wait. The first match between Mexico and South Africa ended in a draw so hopefully not too many placed actual bets though I for one would have preferred to see a distinctive win, I did enjoy it when the camera panned to the sombrero sections almost as much as I enjoyed their anthem which so reminded me of a John Philip Sousa march. I had expected to cheer for France in game two despite the one good bud I have from Uruguay, but I'm glad I picked no favourites in view of the fact that neither team managed to score even one single goal. Day one of the great Fifa may have had no clear winners and an amazing absence of goals, but it did have the usual griping about 'bad calls' which every soccer fan thrives on. I did manage to scrounge up a tasty Fifa breakfast which for me, ended up being one of the highlights thusfar.

Ballroom With Dad

There is a commercial on tv these days which uses the most beautiful tango I know to sell condos and while I find the ad less then pleasing, it did trigger the coolest memories so maybe that's what I will take away from it in the end despite the ad company's wish for me to focus on real estate. When I was little we began our dancing with the waltz and the chacha, (my brother and I under Dad's tutelage) then in time, progressed to the meringue, mambo, rumba and finally to my favourite, the tango. My dad and mom took ballroom dance lessons and as the level of difficulty of each new dance step increased, my brother was replaced by Dad to whom I became a willing partner whenever he wanted to practice which was more often than not before bedtime when I was elegantly attired in all my pajama finery. My brother became a member of the audience which best suited his youth and two left feet while I learned that there was a whole new world for me right there in our living room as Dad talked me through those intricate bends, dips and sudden turns until I became a proficient glider and lover of those dances not at all the rage of girls in my age bracket. I would gladly forego the jitterbug for a chance to circumnavigate our music room which was an extension of the living room and had a bonafide dance floor which seemed made for our duets. On that floor I became confident enough to kick off those shaggy slippers and dance with nary a worry about having my feet stepped on. Dad was my first and best teacher, he was elegant, we both loved the music and hummed along as we danced. The livingroom/music room is sttill there and hearing that tango made me able to dance backwards in time.

Construction Zone

When you move into your brand new home, condo or reconfigured loft etc. you figure that you can count on the glow of all things shiny and bright to be cause for celebration and what's more, once the boxes have been unpacked and all things have found their permanent place, you expect to be able to kick back and actually enjoy your space. What you did not bargain for was the constant hustle and bustle that is a construction zone, so no rest at all for the 'move weary'. 7o'clock every morning is the start of jackhammering that will continue intermittently throughout the day until 5:30pm at the earliest..(unless it rains)and this includes Saturdays, bonus! People continue to flock to the moving elevators anxious to occupy their dwellings even as they continously keep that one designated elevator busy. The remaining two can go on the fritz with the same ease as the air-conditioning system during a heat wave.The supposed CONCIERGE is rarely if ever at his post should you have issues and have them you will but there will be no resolution. You may and probably will be missing all kinds of little things like towel racks, bath/shower curtain rods, vanities, mirrors, sliding cupboard doors and so it goes. The property manager may well advise you to 'hang in there' but the truth is you'll feel more like having someone else do the hanging.

Leaving Italian?

Two years of Italian classes ( a lifetime ago ) in university have left me with the remnants of very rudimentary language and this has become somewhat problematic as it is now cutting into my singing along to the songs I have redicovered which were originally recorded in Italian. There is no way for me to effect the necessary pronunciation without hundreds of run throughs and frankly my singing voice sucks so that option is imperfect at best. Despite the fact that I love to sing regardless of the off key notes I seem fated to produce, the bad accent is yet another worrisome part of this vocal mess. I am not about to take Italian lessons anymore than I am prepared to take singing lessons which leaves me back where all this began. The only solution that I think I can live with is to become a 'hummer'! If this is my chosen path it will not matter at all how much I seem to be able to butcher a romance language, nor will I need to listen to my off key self in a way that is sure NOT to be music to my ears.

Double Dipping (CPA)

Although usually frowned upon by modern society, surprisingly, the instances of double dipping seem to be on the rise. The physical perils notwithstanding, there are numerous other major dangers that to the 'sane' eye are clear as bells but to the D.D. seem not to exist at all.
I think it takes a special individual or two, to join the D.D. ranks but key among the required personality traits-after sheer stupidity- must be pure egotism which is much worse than the'devil may care' umbrellas under which they think they can hide and remain both undetected and protected for as long as need be.
When a sudden and unexpected gust of wind carries those umbrellas away and the D.D. is left standing alone? to face the elements, we need never feel any pangs of concern for them no matter how severe the raging storm, they easily survive, get back up and start it all over again... no lessons learned here. We can only be concerned for those who incorrectly believed that those D.D.s were their umbrellas. They are the ones who are at greater risk of succumbing to the forces of 'nature' because they are the ones who unwittingly hitched their wagons to the wrong stars.
Double dipping can and will always end in disaster!

Baby Shower Shopping

You have decided what to buy and all is well until you actually get to the baby department and that is where all your plans go amiss, awry and askew. From that first sighting of the mini onesie, all your plans fly out the window and you begin to fill your cart with all manner of things baby, none of which are on your list. From booties to hooded bath towels your buggy is soon overflowing and try as you will, after going through it all with a fine tooth comb, not one single item finds its way back onto the shelves. You stroll to the checkout counter never dreaming how significant the total will be, after all not much material has been used, hence there should be no premium charge for labour etc. and then surprise, even shock when your final total is revealed. You drive home in a state of denial; you could not possibly have spent that much on a baby who hasn't even made its grand entrance yet. You lug your immense bags into the house and then what? Well it was actually quite simple. You assemble the spiral blue baby hamper (yes it will be a boy) and begin to unpack the bags. You refold all those tiny items and pack them carefully into the hamper. With every item, you fold in a little love and by the time you're done, there is no more angst about dollars, only the satisfaction of a shopping expedition excellently accomplished, success! Although this may not be true from the baby's perspective, not one stuffed animal in the lot.!!

Bulldozers

There is a definite difference between the standard bully and the maniacal bulldozer. The bully can be dealt with using the various tried and true methods and the success rate is considered to be good if you are a thorough practitioner of these. The bulldozer on the other hand is a totally different animal. To combat this most dangerous phenomenon, you actually need an army that can stand together and form what I compare to a battering ram. You need to amass your troops, bind them together (the old twig theory) and lead them in their defensive march as the ocassionS arise. You would never want to be viewed as the aggressor so any offensive actions are hors de question! Responding to every threatening forward movement by your particular resident bulldozer is crucial if you are to maintain the safety and sanity of your army. You will need to remain ever vigilent and retain your integrity so that you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that any and/or all of your initiatives are in the name of peace and what is morally right. Due to the fact that you are trapped in a potential war zone you must never let your guard down and make sure that your troops are rested, well fed and ever motivated or the bulldozer will mow you down just as his counterpart demolishes any resistent standing buildings. Beware of the bulldozer who tries the divide and conquer method; this thrust could cost you the war! My final tip is to have those fatigues clean and pressed so that you are always dressed appropriately for battle.

Baby Shower

How strange are the feelings you experience when your kids are about to hatch and you receive an invite to a surprise baby shower that you are not throwing. The dynamics are forever changed when you find yourself discussing 'baby' paraphenalia with one who you have difficulty seeing as the authority on everything baby related. To know that 'the kid' is making increased forays into the baby department while out shopping, is pretty incredible and almost as hard to take in as the fact that he is planning a surprise baby shower for the mother of his soon to be born son. You talk about strollers and after you give your opinion on those two in one car seat vehicles, you find out from the 'new' maven that these are now mandatory if the baby is to be released from hospital. Times have indeed changed and the children who stand on the threshold of parenthood need to be trusted to find their own way just as you did. When you think way back to your time on the precipice of becoming a mom or a dad, remember how much advice you took from your parents and dole it out accordingly. If you've done a reasonably good job, your kids will do as you did without needing to do as you say.

Reveille

The possibilities are endless when you have to choose a wake up sound that will prompt you to leave the comfort of bed and home to begin another work week. You can choose the standard droning beep that will pulse till you hit either the snooze or end button and guarantees you a headache if it goes on for too long, not always a good idea. You can choose the soft music of a particular radio station but what if it is in fact too soft and doesn't quite do the trick? Soft music can and invariably will send you right back to dreamland where you are again at the mercy of Mr. Sandman. If you have over-indulged on the weekend, your wake up needs to be a combination of peppy and forceful and finding this dynamic duo may prove challenging as most sounds offered by the clock radio and/or cell phone are one dimensional. I think that the perfect solution is a small military band heavy in the bugle section; a rousing rendition of 'First Call' followed by the ever persuasive 'Reveille' is ideal. The only problem may be in the logistics area as you will have to find away to get them into your bedroom!

Best Plan For A Hot Muggy Sunday

When the kids were small these days would be spent totally outdoors; early mornings at the neighbourhood park playgrounds or swimming if public pools were open, (usually NOT) so the next best thing would be those plastic blow-up things, the eyesores of urban backyards everywhere but oh so lovely to ward off the heat. After the cool off it would be back to the park and if the day was truly the stuff of summer, an evening backyard meal or barbecue (only charcoal) at the de rigeur picnic table. Only after dinner would we give ourselves permission to reenter the cooled haven of our home having fulfilled our parenting resposibilities. Bathed children trotted willingly off to bed and adults collapsed in the cool too tired for any movement that required more energy than a channel change by remote control. The kids are now grown and gone. They are adults with no children of their own but still reluctant to spend any daytime hours on a hot day at home, so if you want to see them you too must be outside but thankfully not in the same way. Early morning at the local patisserie extends to walks along the main thoroughfare with coffee in hand but only on the shady side of the street. Then it's off to the oh so air-conditioned supermarket for a lengthy shop followed by a visit to the local mall equally as cool. Several hours later you are home, unloading your wares in the cooled stone dwelling where the A/C need not be at full tilt. Another coffee, (iced) feet up on the ottoman and a brilliant game of Scrabble. So fine a day that no one missed the plastic pool or barbecue!

Poison Pen Letters Part Deux

It seems clear that thick skin is a prerequisite (or should be) at certain workplaces. When life from 9am. till 5pm. seems to be a neverending series of tit for tat, you will need to make a decision regarding whether or not you will bend beneath the constant storm of critisism or opt to stand tall and face the tornado as it gathers steam and rages straight at you. Choose the second option and refuse to do anything but look your particular storm right in the eye and stare it down. As long as you know what is right, no evil powered force can get the better of you. Do not ever rise to any lousy bait; so if it's the ususal menu, filet mignon or spam there is no contest at all. The King of spam had better look for another kingdom to poison, because there is no throne for him in your realm.

Birthday Dinners

Three friends whose birthdays are in February, March and April determine that the best month for a combined celebration is the merry month of May and so we dined. We got caught up on our lives and it was as if we'd never been out of touch although the reality is that we seldom speak or have sightings of each other. What makes us able to fall so easily back into step again? I haven't a clue but I do think it best not to look this particular gifthorse in the mouth.
Memories of a time in your past shared with people you love and admire can certainly go a long way towards allowing these random and rare reunions to always be meaningful and nothing to turn one's nose up at. We all change and with 'old' friends, even if the changes are not perfect, we can still enjoy each others company safe in the knowledge that we are totally free to be the newest versions of ourselves intertwined with who we were way back when.

Keeping Cool At Work

Your workplace is not air conditioned yet despite the 32 degree heat alert, you are expected to be productive and function as if the sweat was not in fact pouring out of many pores. My mom always says that if you think cool you will be able to stave off the heat but sometimes when faced with extreme humidity and high temps, this is not an option no matter how many hot air blowing fans you have at your disposal. I think that if your boss cannot be counted on to supply an indoor office swimming pool or an outdoor old fashioned hose where you can refresh and renew, he should not bat an eye when you decide that you need to chuck your professional work attire in favour of your swim trunks and a towel...(for those niggling sweat drops!!)Dressing for the job takes on a whole new meaning when you are forced into sweating at your job.

When Too Much Family Stuff Is Too Much

How do you handle coming home to a volatile family scene in which you have absolutely no part and to which you should not even bear witness? You arrive on the scene, take note that all obvious roads to your safe haven are blocked off and then you set about finding a viable non-intrusive way up and out. As soon as you realize you are not at all in the mix..fight..you find that pressing yourself into the wall as you slink past the participants works! The fact that you need to SLINK up 3 winding flights of stairs cannot deter you from taking on your mission; so slink you do, passing other non-combatant family members who have come out of the woodwork to watch. The higher you climb, the more warriers you pass, the closer you get to reaching your destination. As you round the final bend you risk a glance back and see that no one has even noticed you.
Collect your slinking prize, you are safely home!

Checkmate!

You take your young grandson to the local park one balmy evening and happen to meet a charming chess teacher who is there with his two sons. The conversation flows and you are gratified to learn that he teaches little ones as well as older children so you find yourself contemplating enrolling your wee man and even considering taking lessons yourself. You are not convinced that the 'charm' is just that, because part of you suspects it to be tied to a sales pitch, but you realize that this doesn't much matter. You loved the words you exchanged with him and you have decided to try for more, sales pitch be damned...CHECKMATE!

Anger Management

I took a different route on the way home from work yesterday and as I stopped at a traffic light in an old tree lined neighbourhood, I happened to notice a large sign on the front lawn; Anger Management For Men. The house was beautiful with those clapboard type window shutters and a big front porch, and as my eyes wandered, I could not help but notice two large men climbing the stairs leading to the front door. Behind each man was a petite woman each with her head and eyes lowered and from just my brief cursory glance, their demeanors were submissive. The mere fact that they trailed behind the men was almost as disturbing as their bowed heads, especially in contrast to the men who seemed almost carefree as they took the stairs two at a time. I found myself wondering about those two couples? and hoping that the Anger Management For Men facility would somehow enable the women to reclaim at least some of the things thay they have clearly lost, and of course help the men as well but why is it that I worry more for the women?

Texting/Pinging..Good Or Evil

There are always two sides to everything. As of late, there has been much controversy regarding this technology. We have seen a mini push by some in academia to allow devices that enable this type of communication in the classroom and this appears to cause the pendulum to swing toward the plus side which as a result may seem to have pulled ahead in the question of good or evil. Aside from the very obvious danger and utter treachery of using this means to connect with anyone while operating a moving or temporarily stationary vehicle, there have been no negatives to speak of?; until...it becomes more and more clear that this is also the newest, easiest and fastest way to lead and sustain forbidden lives but even this negative point has a plus and it is that in the end, 'illicit' texting turns out to be an easy way to force things from their murky hiding places into the open. While this can be a good thing for some, it is clearly not at all optimum for others even though we tend not to care too much for them and/or their pain? The kiss off via text is nearly sub-human, to end relationships in this most impersonal manner is unforgivable. There are many ways to say goodbye and I believe that most adieus deserve at least a modicum of personalization which is never present when using these hand held devices. If you say farewell via a hand held, you are totally yellow-bellied and oblivious to the fact that what you are holding in your hand is an omnipotent instrument of destruction. If you place your communication device of choice on a scale, I wager that the resulting weight revelation might well appear to be a perfect balance.

Taxi Driver

You have an appointment and elect not to drive. Rather than ask a 'friend' or relative to take you, you opt for that other brand of public/private transportation and decide to cab it. You telephone the dispatch and give your coordinates never dreaming from your conversation with the lady at Yellow Cab that your driver will be challenged insofar as language commonality goes. You a firm believer in the melting pot that is our city, have never given a single thought to how someone's emmigration to our country could have any direct effect on you..until you step into that cab. It immediately becomes apparent that the driver has an extremely minimal knowledge of English and he rightfully assumes that your knowledge of his language-might well have been Swahili- is nil as he proceeds to carry on a conversation on Bluetooth with a 'friend' never fearing even for a nanno second that you will understand. It has been an age since your last taxi ride when the driver carried on a cordial conversation with his fare; you find yourself to be a captive rider, an unwitting participant in a foreign language extravaganza. Your driver does not exchange one single word with you and on automatic pilot, you tip upon reaching your destination. You remember your manners and exit the yellow car wondering which language you might consider learning before your next cab venture.

My Friend Is Having A Colonoscopy

Not to be confused with the personal at home colon cleansing, this is a much more invasive procedure whose prerequisite is a drinking fest featuring a 3 litre bottle of nasty tasting liquid. You'd think that by now some creative science type person would have found a way to make the drink less unbearable to imbibe, at the very least, but no, for some reason the taste remains unpalpable so instead of the masses lining up to take this most important of tests, people seem to be running for the hills in order to avoid it, the drink that is; ironic when you consider that the test itself is not a Sunday walk in the park yet no one complains about the actual procedure which speaks volumes about the prep involved. This drinking spree appears to be a definite deterrant and I think that if a person cannot expect to be able to knock the drink back with a minimum of turned up nose reflex kicking in, then there should be allotted funding to find ways to make the taste disappear; I am not very creative so the only helpful hint I can offer is blocking your nose; break out those old nose plugs, drink up, do not forget the beer chaser, CHEERS and happy colonoscopy!

Angst In The Night (For SMZ)

I think it's pretty normal if you find that for no specific reason, you awaken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night and have difficulty nodding off again. I think it's part of life to be awakened from a bad dream or by things weighing heavily on your mind even while you sleep, and I think it's totally normal to overdo it in the caffeine/chocolate department and find it impossible to fall asleep at all, but I do not think it is ok to be kept awake dealing with either anger or frustration while the 'cause' sleeps uninterrupted blissfully unaware of being the catalyst of your insomnia. There must be a way to transfer those feelings that keep you up right back to the person whose words and/or actions have done you in. The problem for now is that I have no idea as to how one would effect such a transfer and so in the absence of any concrete ideas, I am forced to remind you of the old tried and true voodo doll. Get one, dress it up in clothing so that it ends up bearing an uncanny resemblance to your boss and have a wide array of push-pins at the ready. Go for the mouth and the head, waste no time on the heart and sleep well!

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Lucky me, my fav. ump is almost back in town to guest at some local ball games. I get to once again admire the cool, calm and fair manner in which disputes are and should always be settled and I get to witness warring combatants who are strongly urged to partake of the sports peace pipe and return to at least a semi quasi state of rationality. I find myself actually looking forward to settling down into those uncomfy bleachers which are definitely a far cry from a cozy chair or sofa but undoubtedly the best place for watching. For me, these games are a perfect herald for summer and I know that I won't believe it's just around the corner until I have seen my first baseball game. It is then that I can stare winter and it's malingering cold, fog and rain right in the face and declare with full conviction, 'you're OUTTA HERE!!"

Arm Chair Traveller

No amount of persuasive measures have thusfar succeeded in prompting one of my friends to temporarily abandon home and hearth in favour of a travel adventure to parts unknown and to destinations not reachable by car. This person will gladly drive many many miles in search of the perfect piano, the perfect scuba mask, the perfect fur lined hat and mitts, the perfect fish, the perfect woman, the perfect skating arena, the perfect electric drill, the perfect woodpile, the perfect soccer field, the perfect bike path, the perfect swimming hole and the perfect meditational facility to name but a FEW, however, he will not travel the short distance to the airport to board a plane. This does not mean that he never has, but apparently that one foray into the friendly skies was enough though curiously he does intend to have his own winged transporter in the future. This person supposedly resists travel in order to keep boredom at bay; a novel approach for most but quite appropos for him. By not leaving his big comfy chair, he is sure not to find himself shiftless and or aimless at a cafe near the COLISEUM wondering what to do next! I might suggest investing in foreign property as leverage when it comes to making leaving home by plane a wee bit more attractive; he would after all need to "FLY" down for an inspection and who knows what that could lead to....
Some people are born with wanderlust and some love to explore new and often far away places. In the final analysis, it is very apparent that this arm chair traveller has wanderlust.

The Quick Thinker

No matter how ponderous the question, if posed to a 'quick thinker' the answer will be instantaneous. You may harbor under the misconception that all responses require at least a respectable minimum of time before one should even attempt a reply but never share this opinion with the Q.T. because a disagreement is sure to ensue.
The Q.T. comes in all shapes and sizes; for example, it could be your spouse who although he has never said so in so many words, thinks ill of your culinary talents. When you ask him what he wants for dinner, his immediate reply will be 'take-out'. No thought required and at the same time he subconsciously shares his distrust of your cooking ability. How about when you ask your other half to opine regarding your dress du soir? The Q.T. will tell you without preamble why (or why not) the choice is perfect or less then perfect. On the other hand, a non- Q.T. would likely spend a fair amount of time in consideration of the issue at hand before responding in either of the abovementioned scenarios; if your non Q.T. is a diplomat you may hear : "gee honey how about I cook tonight and you kick back with a glass of wine." or, "you know I love that dress on you but it is pretty cold tonight so perhaps something with a high neck and long sleeves?" I think that there is only one way to handle the Quick Thinker without getting your knickers in a knot, and that would be to NEVER ask them any questions on ANY topics if your expectation is a well thought out and thoughtful reply.

The Narcissist

The word alone conjures up images of self absorption at high do but this is not necessarily a bad thing. If writing about one, do not be daunted by feelings of trepidation should you need to report anything that is less than favourable as the narcissist will not give you any grief, EVER! unless...you report something that is unflattering! This peacock like preener has an innate need to spread those feathers with pride and propriety and is willing to have most anything written about him/her because this means that they are the focus of attention and reinforces their credo; "it's all about me!" The narcissist may seem to thrive on being on their own but actually manifests an even greater need than most for a constant audience of people in order to maintain their front and center standing. At first glance narcissism may seem to be an easy way of life because the minutae that most of us deal with on a daily basis is clearly absent from their roster. They appear to 'go with the flow' seeming never to be bogged down by anything unpleasant, but do not be fooled. To succeed in true narcissistic fashion takes an incredible amount of effort and only those truly devoted to self can aspire to that exalted state of pure narcissism.

Mother's Day

I don't live in the same city as my mom but thanks to her, this is no cause for any feelings of guilt. Never is there a birthday, anniversary or any other significant day that my mother makes me feel badly about not being able to celebrate with her. Mom has two boys and two girls yet only my brother and his family live in the same city as she does. We all speak regularly but he is the only one who gets to really be there for those special days. We all visit whenever and for however long we can and even if at times these visits feel like the proverbial drop in the pan they work for us. If I have in the past had occasion to lament that I was missing Mother's Day, Mom's usual response was (and still is ) " for me, everyday is Mother's Day." I always thought that this was something she composed just so I wouldn't feel bad, but now as a mom with one of my own children living away, I understand how wise her words are and how true. In the end, if you are lucky enough to have a family you love and who loves you, distance is only that, and takes nothing away from the real feel. A mom is a mom is a mom no matter how scattered her offspring; being physically apart has nothing on the nearness of the heart.
Happy Mother's Day to the greatest mom in the whole wide world from her luckiest daughter.

Rhubarb

Spring is here and it's not! We vacillate between the mild warmish weather and the unseasonably cool gusty rainy days of May never quite sure about the state of our garden. Duly planted are the usual favourites and although it will be awhile before we can reap what we have sown, there is however one hale and hearty patch which lays in wait perfect for picking NOW! That would be the rhubarb corner which is teeming with stalks ready to chop and boil. To profit from this timely harvest, we plan Sunday dinner around a rhubarb pie and crisp not caring a whit about the copious amounts of sugar that we will use to offset the bitterness that is intrinsic to the root. I have always loved it even when served on its own after its been carefully boiled down to that amazing pale pink hued mush and am convinced that the only negative about rhubarb is when it is used as a heckle from the back of an otherwise quiet theatre. Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb!

A Quarter Of A Century!!

I know that at 60 I may be considered by some to be old to have a 25 year old but on the eve of her birthday I find out about an 60 and 72 year old women who are hatching for the first or 12th time and that certainly puts a new spin on how I see the big picture. Our little girl was a gift to top all others. Thrilled with being parents to our son, we had decided to have no more hatchlings despite our son's repeated request for a 'sister'. Our daughter chose to become one of us and that's just what she did. Along the way however, she redefined our little family in ways too numerous to list. and because of her we found out that there is no such thing as a limit to how much or how many a parent can love. Where we had thought our threesome was just perfect, our new addition showed us a level of perfection that we never could have imagined. The years have flown by and aside from being a daughter who inspires tremendous admiration, she is a sister who adores and is adored by her older brother and is a young woman wise beyond her years. She is the classic parent to her parents and how lucky we all are to have this rarest of jewels in our crown.
Happy Birthday Amanda.

Rosemary

I have long had a good friend called Rosemary and years later I met one other person with the same name (thankfully only once) and that in a nutshell is my proper noun based experience. The herb however is quite another story and although mine is not the popular opinion, for me, rosemary is verboten. It may not be present as part of a herb mish mash that makes for an encrusted layer of grilled meat or fish, it may not lie across any veg as a fallen mini branch supposedly trying to decorate my dinner plate, it may not be mixed into my olive oil dipper sauce and it may not show up uninvited by me in any chef's 'secret surprise' sauce because his/her secret would definitely be revealed if I were to be the taster; this would not be a good surprise. It took me awhile to narrow down the taste that made me instantly push my plate aside, but once rosemary was proven to be the cause for my taste buds shutting down, I became one of those fussy orderers. Every visit to what was touted as a great eating establishment had me quizzing the server; " What's in the sauce? Is there rosemary in the 'special mashed potatoes?" etc. etc. This is where I discovered that servers may not be the most honest of people. Many times after being assured that rosemary was not used, I found it, sometimes pre first bite as it is after all so damned aromatic. On one such occasion the chef felt the need to leave his lofty perch in the kitchen and come directly to our table to inquire how I had discerned the taste as he felt certain he had couched it in his cuisine. The bottom line is that I HATE rosemary and the good news is that there are others like me. Perhaps our numbers pale when compared to rosemary lovers, but in the meantime eaters anonymous has engaged me to do freelance work as a rosemary detector. Not that lucrative but great as a source of extra income.

Country Music And Lamb

All my life I have loved many kinds of music perhaps because I was lucky to grow up in a house full of music. Our parents modelled an appreciation for numerous genres and somehow we kids morphed into singers and dancers while honing our listening skills courtesy of the personal parental concerts (only Mom could carry a tune but Dad was so enthusiastic we never noticed his less than lyrical tonality till he was almost 60!)and private lovingly amassed record collection. We listened to big band, to classical, to old standards, to jazz and to rock and roll. We did the jitterbug, the waltz, the cha cha, the rumba and the meringue though admittedly we did not tango till we were adults. Having two and two as a sibling mix guarantees you a dance partner and though I was always taller than most in my age group, I never did not want to dance with my younger brother who was considerably shorter..(even today)We believed our dad when he called us the Cha Cha Champions and we also believed him when he told us we had beautiful voices..my brother did! The musical richness shared by my family is the most incredible gift and though I tried to pass it down I forgot that kids will inevitably need to stake their own musical claim and nothing you expose them to can prevent them from loving heavy metal or any other types that I might personally find discordant. I think the trick to perpetuating musical appreciation on the wider spectrum is not to bad mouth or omit for whatever reason, any one type. This is why I never told my kids that I could't stand country music. I kind of blame that on my folks and equate it to to my intense distaste for lamb. Neither lamb nor country music were ever served in our home.

Remembering

I know that there are innumerable websites where you can pre-send all types of greeting cards and this has been a good way for me not to miss any special occasions while not admitting to anyone that in fact the cards are delivered on time thanks to my little pink date book and the internet, not in any part thanks to my memory for dates which had never been too good in my youth and is now in my senior years, even worse! Lately I have noticed that sending ecards has become more complicated and time consuming which are not optimum conditions for my use of the computer and this has greatly influenced my online card sending habits. I have all but cut out my visits to those websites but I've noticed that as a result of this change, I am once again worried about missing the days that absolutely require acknowledging. It became clear that I needed an alternative plan and after careful consideration I think that I have come up with something simple and doable which allows me to never have to say 'I'm sorry I'm late'. I now get a jump start on recognizing all those momentous occasions by emailing a brief 'wishing' missive one day prior to the actual date because as everyone knows, it's far better to be early.... This also works extremely well when these emails are going to friends and/or family who live in different time zones. Remembering is now a piece of cake!

Les Matins Blancs

Anyone who has ever woken up in the night and been unable to fall back to sleep has had what is called 'Les Nuits Blanches'! This is a French term meaning white nights (not to be confused with white knights)and in my opinion it is an absolutely perfect description of what happens when we are wrenched from our sleep and unable to find our way back. This term cannot be applied to those nights when temporary insomnia motivates you to switch on your bedside lamp(low beam of course) and read yourself back to slumber because once that light is on, the 'white' is gone. For obvious reasons it is not recommended to have too many of these 'white nights'. It goes almost without saying that you will begin to have that haggard ghostly appearance which will not be a good thing if you can properly focus when looking in the mirror, and this new look will make you the subject of all manner of gossipy chatter around the water cooler so it is best to limit these nocturnal detours to as few as possible. There is however one other disruption that is also sleep (or lack thereof) related. That is the matin blanc. ( blanc,because matin is masculine of course) This occurs when you return home very late on a Saturday and finally hit the hay safe in the knowledge that you don't have to get up early on Sunday. Without warning you awaken at 6:00am ready to greet the day after only a few hours of sleep. Try as you will, you cannot get back to your dreams. You are in the full throes of a matin blanc.

Poison Pen Letters

It should come as no surprise that poison pen letters are ALWAYS written by poison people. These individuals have every intention of being provocateurs and absolutely thrive on confrontation via surprise attack. Unfortunately they are not too well endowed in the 'brain' department so they need time to plot their hissy fits and present them in writing. Being almost totally bereft of social skills/filters, means that these people are incapable of impromptu, off the cuff or logical responses so they have no choice but to initiate both parry and thrust on paper. Nothing these non Einsteins write can come as a shock, but if ever we feel our hackles rising we must remember the most effective way to deal with losers of such a high caliber, we must recall that especially in these situations, less is more.The poison pen authors expect a short tempered reply; they NEED us to cave and spew our 'supposed' poison right back at them in order to feel that they have been successful in their attempt to force us down to their level. A simple note thanking them for their "input" will be great cause for their dismay because you have not risen to the bait and it will guarantee that despite all their efforts, everything they've done is for naught.

Do I Detect A Note Of Something?

If you are an optimist and/or a happy person, it stands to reason that you will not lose patience like a Johnny On The Spot when up against any fallout from the aging process or a less than stellar phone connection. I refer to hearing challenges no matter what the cause. This means you will not stomp your feet in anger and/or frustration if when you are talking to someone you discover that either they did not quite hear what you said, or heard it incorrectly. You should be magnanamous enough to calmly repeat your words and not snap back an " I heard and answered your question!" Pausing even momentarily and opting for a non aggressive bite will prevent the person you are having a conversation with from being on the defensive and will alleviate any feelings of inadequacy they may experience due to a situation over which they have no control. Taking a deep breath and responding with consideration means that you will not ever have to pose that most condescending of questions; "Do I detect a note of something?" when they have no choice but to mirror your displeasure in their response to you.

Dishevelled

This word usually refers to physical demeanor but almost never is there a verb derivitive so it is quite odd to be accused of being a disheveller. Even stranger is the fact that when this moniker is given to you, it is a sure fire sign that you stand accused of repeatedly leaving the bed sheets in a dishevelled state, as simple as that. You awaken in the middle of the night to hear that the mess of sheets in which you are entangled is apparently your fault. You are called a 'habitual disheveller' when you know for sure that you had nothing whatsoever to do with the dishevellment of the linens, after all weren't you just blissfully? asleep ergo not consciously dishevelling the sheets? Well actually no according to the little woman who stubbornly maintains that it was ALL you and that you have a master dishevelling plan which you successfully implement even when you are in a deep sleep. There will be no trial and no verdict renderd by a jury of your peers. You are guilty as charged and the only good thing to come out of this false accusation, is the secret sense of pride that is yours when you really think about it all and realize she is right; guilty as charged, you are in fact a true but happy disheveller, but you revel in the knowledge that there is nothing unkempt about you, you may well be a disheveller but you ar NOT dishevelled!

Thoughts On Being Elsie

I have managed to live some of my life vicariously and thusfar this seems to have been a great alternative to actually doing things that deep down I know are not for me. I have been known to admire those who boldly jump out of planes aloft in the pale blue skies and for one crazy moment I too am freefalling but happily I never have to worry about pulling that string and it goes without saying that I'd look most ridiculous in the skyjumping harness, helmet, etc. When I watch those athletes making their way down the powdery white and steeply magnificent mountains, it is just fine with me to be able to reenter my body shortly after the launch; this way I get to take off to the accompaniment of all the bells, whistles and cheers for me in my bold spandex onesie, but I am back to being me long before my skis have even the slightest chance to cross or I meet a mogul that doesn't care for trespassers. When I become a mountaineer the short shorts with major leather belt and a host of incredible tools are great to have, again, only for a moment as I have never been good with tools and am loathe to wear high heavy wool socks with shorts almost as much as the hiking boot is not my foot covering of choice, and the ropes...I know better than to dally around copious amounts of industrial rope for reasons too numerous to list here. My fleeting interest in becoming a teacher seems to have been the shortest amount of time spent on any one of my many fantasy lives because of bad politics and way too many order givers, though shockingly neither of these pitfalls has anything whatsoever to do with the actual students! When it comes to wanting to be Elsie it's as simple as knowing someone who has managed to etch out a whole new life now that she is semi retired. Holidays whenever with no limitations or restrictive blacked out travel days, a vacation home in a historic niche on the east coast and then after one brief shining moment it all becomes crystal clear. I am happy to be me and the last thing I want is to become/be is Elsie. So not for me a touristy hamlet in the summer, overrun by every manner of visitor thus making me a virtual prisoner in my beautiful century vacation home. There are just so many careers that I could have had and/or pastimes in which I could have indulged but this way is so much better. I get to pick and choose and NEVER be locked in.

I'm A Born Again Bitch..Sort Of

I believe that I have found an estuary leading to that elusive fountain of youth and it is so simple and subtle; revenge with class. No longer will I grin and bear the unbearable, no longer will I lie down and play dead as behooves those of my age because as everyone knows we MELLOW as we move ahead and apparently lose our ability to combat nastiness seeing as how we have by now(supposedly...) evolved and are much more accepting etc. what utter nonsense! I have found that allowing bad behaviour to roll off our backs as if we were ducks does not make us better it makes us weaker and despite being a newly minted senior, the weak part just doesn't sit well with me at all. I think there is a distinct relationship between acceptance and aging and I'd much prefer aging due to gravity and/or the elements than by allowing some idiot to force me down the primrose lane before my time. The trick is to get your revenge out there so quicky that it speeds by before the idiots even perceive it to be revenge. They are left shaking their heads in bewilderment knowing that something has happened but remaining in the dark as to just what that something was; they will no doubt be asking themselves the following; was it a bird, was it a plane,but they will never figure out that it was sweet and total vindication by sleight of mouth. You are now a master manipulator/magician and because you know better than to reveal your bag of tricks, all remains safely stored under your sleeves until the next time you need to perform. If you are a seasoned entertainer/bitch, each successful performance will leave you energized, young again and more than prepared for your next Grand Spectacle! Somehow, this is an awesome tool in the fight against aging.

Apparently...

Apparently too much of a good thing can sometimes definitely be too much. Take Indian food for example, you love love love it and everytime you indulge, you are made well aware of the fact that you have overdone it. Indian food unlike Chinese food does not vanish from your conscious stomach cavity to the point where you can re-eat a short time after your initial repast. Indian food does not go quietly into the night, in fact it NEVER leaves. (or at least the interminable time needed for full digestion feels like never)The next day despite the lingering aroma of curry you are not at all tempted to reoffend. It matters little how great the Nan bread (with garlic) is, you are not returning for seconds. Croissants however are totally different. Whether you have one or two a day, sometimes three, you can easily turn into a repeat flaky buttery offender without being aware that this is what has happened. It matters not at all that the patisserie is an hour from home. As you sit in gridlock the sea of cars that surrounds you seems to disappear because your focus is only on your important mission, getting to those croissants! You cannot relax until that bag of perfection is in your hand and when you finally get them, you cannot possibly begin that long trek home without a dip into the bag. Your drive transforms into a leisurely car cruise and when you do reach your final destination you will of course celebrate by yet another dip into the bag.
Apparently you are a croissant addict with absolutely no remorse.

Two To Twitter

For as long as you have been tweeting yours has been a single Twitter family. You have forged many incredible relationships and by now are solidly ensconced within your preferred Twitter clan. The ante is suddenly upped when your other half decides to join the fray and as you welcome her with love, encouragement and pride, do not lose sight of the possible pitfalls on the road to becoming bi/Twittererati! The sheer time factors this doubling will require boggle the mind. You may well rationalize, and say that between the two of you no neglect of house and home will ensue, but really, can you honestly prevent the changes that are bound to occur? That daily prepared gourmet dinner that has thusfar been a staple of your life may well disappear in a cloud of tweets or what's worse may crash and burn due to neglect of oven and /or stove in favour of computer/Twitter time. If you are a single computer family any increase in keyboard minutes may cause angst for the one who can no longer count on having a computer at the ready although in your case the iphone will probably alleviate that pressure. Perhaps it does take two to Twitter and if that is true for you, let's all sing like the birdies do, "tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet"!!

The Lock Out

When choosing whether or not to move into your new abode in a not quite finished building, it is always best to consider the worst case scenarios in order that your decision be an informed one. You might otherwise have to survive the following situation and in truth the humiliation (and annoyance) is not quite worth it.
It is 8:30pm and from the suite above you, there begins a unique whine symphony whose special sound can only be produced by an electric drill. Although you may well know the condo rules which clearly state that no construction noises be made after 5:30pm. it is obvious that your neighbour is not privy to this information or...he simply couldn't care less. You call the security guard who oblingly rides to your rescue (on his chariot..the elevator) but the drilling has taken on the dimensions of a phantom and what you heard only seconds before, is not anything that the security guy can hear now. This continues on and off for over an hour and when hammering sounds are introduced to the cacaphony you call for help yet again. You also decide to become somewhat of a Sherlock Holmes so you step out of your unit (barefoot) to meet the chariot..elevator. The door opens, another phantom experience this one for you as there is no sign of Mr. Security Guard. You return to your front door and turn the handle only to find that you have effectively locked yourself out! You have no choice but to lightly knock on your neighbour's door- another condo rule broken as everyone knows you are never supposed to need to connect with your neighbour in anyway other that the cusrsory nod hello should you happen to meet in the hallway or at the garbage disposal room- and ask for help. Luckily your neighbours are more than willing to place a phonecall to the front desk for you, and they even provide you with a small chair and magazine so that you do not look too forlorn as you sit alone in the corridor outside your apartment listening to the phone ring, a phone you cannot answer.
The lock out ends when your knight in shining uniform finally arrives and uses the master key to open the door. You knock at the neighbour's door once again to return the chair and magazine feeling the same level of embarassment that you did when you knocked the first time.

Kubota

Sometimes there really can be writer's block or at the very least, instances where the ideas simply do not flow and there is nothing to rant over. When this happens (today actually..)despite all my good intentions re: writing/blogging daily the fact that no bees are in my bonnet, seems not to augur well for my creativity. I look out the window and all is calm in the fading daylight. I have had my after work nap ( a new must) and am geared up to spend a quiet evening at home. Nothing controversial about that and nothing humourous either so what shall I do? Since I have never been a bemoaner and am loathe to become one, it suddenly occurs to me that now, right now would be an excellent time to ride off into the sunset on my trusty KUBOTA!!!

Hit By a Bus

Ever vigilant as a driver, you are perhaps a tad peeved but reflexes at the ready you come to a timely stop behind a city bus when it suddenly and with no warning slams on its brakes. You are gratified that the car behind you is also driven by an able person and just as you begin to exhale with relief the rear lights of the bus become almost blinding in their brightness as you realize the bus is in reverse on its way to a meeting with the front of your car. You frantically honk your horn; you honk loudly and then desperately, to no avail as you hear/feel the front of your car being pushed in. You remain seated in a state of disbelief until just as suddenly the bus goes forward a few paces and comes to rest. All this has taken a nanno second to happen, but the shock quotient makes it feel much longer. You continue to remain in place now finally..exhaling your eyes trained on the bus you see the door open and the driver hop down the steps to survey what his expert driving skills have wrought. He peeks around the side of his bus, gives your car a cursory glance then races back up onto his bus and DRIVES AWAY!!!!!
You of course are no longer a sitting duck, you are galvinized by the indignity and immediately notify the bus company. (yes, Bluetooth!!) The bus company tells you to call the police and you do. You are advised by the police that the ATC is its own insurer and surprise surprise; they have jurisdiction over their own which means no charges will be laid by the police for leaving the scene or for totally bad/careless driving. This means that we can all breathe easier knowing that the ATC will be DISCIPLINING their driver.
Doesn't the phrase 'hit by a bus' take on a different meaning now? So much for'it's better to take public transport' and so comforting to know how unconcerned the mighty ATC is with commuters both on their busses and in cars on the very same streets where they let their incompetent drivers roam/drive free.

High Tea

You have a reservation for 'high tea' at a well appointed downtown hotel on a Sunday afternoon. Briefly, you consider getting all dolled up in case there is a dress code, but then you remember how comfy your old worn jeans are and seeing as how they miraculously remain rip free, you assume they are more then good enough to be out and about especially when paired with a respectable top.
You arrive at the reserved time (2:30pm) reassuring yourself that there couldn't possibly be a dress code...that is until you get to the outer lobby and see all the other high tea reservees. They are clad in what can only be described as Easter Sunday best/finery despite the fact that Easter has come and gone. From all mannner of florals; hats, blouses, skirts and dresses for the ladies, to full suit and FLORAL ties or boutonnieres for the gents, at first glance, the scene was not unlike what I imagine the inner sanctum of a Fellini film would be. The servers in tails, advised us on our options in hushed tones befitting the nearly pompous aura that filled the seating space. We duly sniffed the proffered humidor of scents and whispered back our orders so as not to break the spell. There was a general air of quiet dignity that even I in my old cozy jeans was able to feel. From cucumber sandwiches to clotted cream and scones, this high tea was just perfect.

Brief Intermission

The words 'brief intermission' usually call to mind a prescribed amount of pause time generally theatre or grand spectacle related so if you are not a patron of the arts you are not likely to cross paths with this phrase.There is however one other place where these words are perfectly apt, and surprising as it may seem, that place is in your very own bed. You go to sleep and for some reason you awake in the night. Although the causes of nocturnal wakefulness may vary; you might have had a nightmare, you may need to use the facilities or you may simply have woken up to the dicombobulated sound of your own laughter, the result of a funny rem moment, no matter the cause, the end is the same. You look over at the sleeping mass beside you and are overcome by an urgent need to share your impropmtu awakening. You decide to recount your dreams and are blissfully unaware that your revelation comes out in a steady stream of gibberish due to the heavy state of sleep you have just left behind, or.... you may simply decide not to be the only one awake at 2:00am and that means that the sleeping mass next to you must be woken up, pronto!
Whatever moves you, in the final analysis there are now two people awake, and they begin a magical yet comfortable waltz of any number of inane dances (dialogues) during a brief intermission in the night

Miracle Gro

You are sitting at your kitchen table gazing out the window at your spotty two toned (brown and green) back yard and you realize that you long to see that lush green colour that your lawn used to be. What to do is the dilemma du jour as you let thoughts of a personal gardner float about in your head. Your purse strings however are too tighly knotted to afford Mr. Green Thumb so you must find a more creative solution at an affordable price. You consider asking the hunky neighbour to mow your lawn? in the same state of shirtlessness with which he does his own thus killing two birds etc. and you even consider engaging in the barter system, baked goods in exchange for lawn care but for certain reasons this option quickly loses its viability and you are back to square brown patch number one...but only until an annoyingly familiar jingle drifts into your mind; (see music notes here..) You'll have the greenest finest grass to mow, when you give it up to Miracle Gro! (end music notes here..) You see yourself proudly accepting the blue ribbon for your prize winning begonia at the local village floral show and suddenly you are off your chair, car keys in hand and heading out to your local garden center. You will break down and purchase a vat of Miaracle Gro, that is unless you decide that the back yard is to big too handle and that your best bet is to buy a ChChCh Chia pet!

Eating In Bed

At some point in time, all parents teach their children not to eat in bed, and this teaching usually begins once the bottle stage has passed. This is also probably baby's first exposure to the fickle authority of the parental units who initially were fully supportive of in crib meals that were liquid and dispensed via sterilized drinking vessels... (baby bottles) Unsuspecting Baby hasn't been around long enough to have twigged in to the fact that eating/drinking in bed is only allowed for that brief period of time when it is convenient not so much for baby but for Mom and Dad who profit from this cribside service by getting to spend a bit longer in their own beds. The switch from permissive to prohibitive where in bed eating is concerned is not unlike mach speed and babies grow, never quite understanding how languishing 'acrib' could have turned so quickly into being strapped into a highchair in the upright position. The erstwhile pleasant 'laissez faire' style of eating is now rife with rigidity and from toddlers to teens mealtimes seem to be all about discipline. Eating and drinking has evolved into a series of more unwavering rules then a new army recruit can expect. T.V. tables set out in front of the sofa notwithstanding, all food must be consumed while seated on a chair in either the kitchen or dining room, and good manners are non negotiable. Where does this leave those who have never quite gotten over the shock of no longer eating/drinking in bed? It leaves them longing for a return to the cradle of course, where they felt peaceful and entitled to enjoy their consumption of choice. Some groups of people have managed to bend the rules and have found it possible to reintroduce eating in bed. The first group is the passive agressive in bed eater who selects one fruit each night before going to sleep. They know they cannot engage in any repast that will result in even the slightest bit of muss or fuss so they never choose grapefruit, oranges, cherries, watermelon or other juicy treats, more often than not they go for the banana which is duly peeled in the kitchen leaving no debris, and if they are slightly daring they may go for an apple but that means there is always that telltale kleenex folded over by the bed and this of course contains the pips, core and an occasional stem. Let's call the next group the Romantics. They simply invest in a beautiful wicker breakfast tray and voila! They eat croissants and jam while drinking their Tassimo Lattes or Bodem press and the tray catches any and all crumbs. The final group is the largest by far. Pregnant women who suffer from morning sickness don't even bother with the tray pretense. They use the common knowledge that crackers alleviate this nasty condition, and simply keep a box of Saltines on their night table. This works out quite well because the box is easy to reach and they are way too queasy to worry about catching any of the crumbs. Eating in bed is actually an excellent and much needed way to return to those lofty days of yore.

Early To Work/Anti Social??

For as long as I can remember I have been a morning person. It dates waaaay back to growing up in a home where carpe deium was a way of life and sleeping in was frowned upon for being a total waste of time. Although I am not required to be 'on the job' until 9:00am I usually make my entrance around 7:00am which may appear to lengthen my work day by two hours but in fact it actually increases my productivity so in this scenario it is best not to take the accumulated minute count into consideration when deciding how many hours I actually spend at work. It goes without saying that part of the 'avant' work time is spent with those who like me prefer to jumpstart their days. We do not always engage in professional chitchat because we recognize that fine line that divides our lives at work and our lives at home and we tend to choose to blur those lines not just because we can but because there is something magical and mystical about the early morning hours. We take this option for many reasons not the least of which is because we recognize the advantages of sharing when it comes from the heart and not from a mandate. We are not exclusive nor are we members of the 'good old boys club; it is much more elementary than that my dear Watson. In the final analysis, early mornings at work need never be fraught with angst or woe when they can (if you're REALLY lucky) be like droplets of dew, only available at certain times which in the end makes them even more precious then you ever imagined they could be.

Equity in Food

There are Snap, Crackle and Pop (male) there is the Quaker Oats guy, there are the cops on Cookie Crisp and the ever resilient Tony the Tiger, only male names are visible on cereals with nary a sign of a feminine presence. Until now, those who select the cereal monikers have not been receptive to female names on the cereal boxes that grace our tables most mornings. When pressed as to `why`they would probably attest to the fact that Special K cannot be called Special Kendra anymore than Raisin Bran can be called Brandy Raisinette. Granted, Sara Lee is highly visible in the frozen baked goods coolers but in cake mixes, Betty Crocker notwithstanding, we also have Duncan Hines..yet another male!I submit to you that Dr. Oetker is probably male, the President of President`s Choice is most assuredly male and I know for certain that Oscar Meyer is too as is his good friend Jimmy Dean so it would appear that male celebrity is prevalent in an incredibly wide array of food products.
For some reason, the gluten free products appear to have more of a feminine side- Mary`s, Donna`s, Renees etc. etc. but the same cannot be said for most of the food we purchase.Things may be about to change though on a small scale at first beginning with that humble staple, cereal!. It is evident from recent marketing surveys, that old products can be made new again with a different name and at the same time reduce the male influence glut that currently exists. Oatmeal Almond Crisp may soon appear in stores as Oatmeal Almondine, Corn Flakes may soon be called Cornelia Flakes and Betty`s Best Bran Buds is yet another name you may soon find in your local supermarket. I personally have submitted a few name changes that I am hoping to see on shelves in the not too distant future, you should too if you care about equity in your pantry and fridge.

A Tourist In Miami

If you are under 60 years of age (terrific random digit don't you think??) and happen to find yourself visiting Miami Beach,
please be aware of the following: 1. Everyone drives very large cars
2. Most restaurants are fully booked by 5:00pm
3. Golf carts abound

It is a well known fact that people tend to shrink in stature as they grow in age so it makes more sense to them to drive the largest automobile they can get, there is clearly something about the sheer size of the vehicle that seems to lull them into a false sense of height; of course it's best not to tell them how they really look to us as we drive behind them; little heads that can barely be seen above the headrest.
Golden agers as a group become more cautious regarding their entertainment expenses and while they do not wish to waste money they also do not want to deprive themselves of the social outings that are integral to their social sense of well being so restauranteurs have created something called the Early Bird Special; this is actually a stroke of entrepreneurial genius. Seniors continue to gather en masse for resto dinners but they do their congregating at 5:00pm. This entitles them to meals from the regular menu at a reduced price. Clearly a win win situation because the golden agers get to go out and be home in time by 8:30pm for their nightly dose of t.v. and all this allows eating establishments to clean up and prepare for the real/average dining times of 7:00pm and onward. The staff doesn't mind this extra work in view of the increased pay/tips that an entirely new dinner shift will bring. Everyone knows that seniors have a 'thing' about condo living and how better to enhance this living experience than by introducing the senior condo special; the golfcart! This handy dandy little moving device is easy to hop on and off even with walkers, canes and assorted shopping bags. Before it became the new standard mode of transportation from the car to the elevator, the golfcart was relegated to golf course use by players and tournament officials. Thanks to the boomers who have joined the ranks of the largest retirement contingency in history, the cart has a brand new life. Just think of the gleeful handrubbing that goes on behind closed doors in executive meetings at the manufacturing plants as they do the happy increased productivity dance while counting their dividend cheques.
Once you stop feeling like a voyeur into Miami's special senior strata and if you can ward off the panic that seems to well up as you project yourself into this category (time waits for no man) you can relax, sit back in your Muskoka chair and enjoy being a tourist in Miami.

Les Macarons For Breakfast

I never thought I'd use the phrase "I've earned the right to..." but today that is just what came to mind as I stood in the kitchen at a most ungodly hour doing my daily breakfast self quiz; 'what shall I eat today before I dash out the door, what's quick, healthyish, not messy and good tasting. Today, in contrast to the normal silence that responds to that querry, clear as a bell I heard the answer, chocolate! Chocolate which is totally nutritious is more than likely a unique and satisfying first meal! The thing is, not just any chocolate will do if it is to herald the beginning of a new day and be the barometer by which you measure the success of your daily culinary intake; the chocolate of choice must elicit multiple oohs and ahs even before that first bite.
I believe that I have previously referred to 'les macarons' and confess to needing to mention them yet again because I cannot find words to properly express how amazing they are.
Rather than racing to consult the nearest thesaurus, I think if I simply admit that they have recently become my most favourite food???, enough said!

End Of The Russian Wedding

Well here it is, Sunday birthday is finally here and this is the first day I get to officially wear the 60 mantle; it actually fits just fine in case you're wondering...nothing oversized and no new wrinkles (at least none that I can see). Began my day with croissants, pain au chocolat and chocolate macaroons, a most auspicious start if I do say so myself.
The weather is very cooperative and after typing this brief missive it's out to walk the old broad around the neighbourhood so that I not only get to enjoy the sunshine, but I also get to walk off some of those notorious birthday calories.
I think my 6o is the new REAL 60 if you're lucky like me and the overall total of regrets is minimal. It also helps not to put too much import on the external and eyesight that is not 20/20 is a most valuable plus if there is more than one mirror at home.
Some people expect to feel an instant difference after they marry, just as some expect to feel an intstant difference after they turn 60.
I am happily not one of those!

Still My Birthday

I wasn't sure about the Sunday designation of my bday this year, but thusfar it's turning out way better than I could have imagined; instead of the usual one day, my
'60' has turned into a weekend affair which means it actually does last longer. I expect not to experience the blues that normally set in as my day ebbs because I will have had better than seconds and thirds. Birthday Sunday is clearly a panacea for the 'I wish my special day lasted longer than its mere alotted 24 hours' syndrome that has always ailed me. From tulips to even more tulips
(vase availability a concern..) another spring to embrace along with another chance to rejoice in having family intact and friendships on solid ground; who could ask for more?...not me, don't even need more bulbs.

Senior Moments

As I edge that much closer to the big 60 I think that I have found a cure for those niggling times when my short term memory fails and the thoughts that only seconds ago were ready to be shared suddenly vanish without a trace. The trick is; at the beginning of all my telephone conversations,I interject a number of random topics that I might want to address so that when memory fails, (and it will) the person I am speaking to has only to parrot those very same topics right back at me thus allowing me to regroup and simply carry on from there. This will not assist those in the age-induced time warp when it comes to a higher order of thinking, but it will definitely keep us safe within the parameters that we initially set out for that particular conversation.
I had decided to keep my impending birthday a secret from most of the people with whom I spend my working day hours. This excellent plan went forward swimmingly until lunch time when to my great surprise, a vat of tulips (my fave) was delivered to my place of work and then it was pretty much game over. When you think of Tiny Tim and Tiptoe Through The Tulips- light years removed from Tom Waits- you may envision a hazy path of tulips in a beautiful garden but at no time can you even begin to imagine the sheer volume of 61 elegant purple and shocking pink blooms all gathered together just for me. Thanks to my children there'll be no tiptoing here;
I'd need a sickle to cut a swath through these!

Rain

Some people are bothered by those drab gray days that the rain usually brings but not me! I always find rain to be cozy no matter what colour the day. There is something magical about a steady rainfall that seems to soothe with its pitter patter melody. I almost never mind the torrential downpours either as long as there is no accompanying dampness. If I was ever concerned about a hairdo I would surely stand beside the minions who decry the showers accusing them of being at the root of all really bad hair days but I seem to have those with or without the rain and it's not my way to shift blame especially where Mother Nature is concerned. In a world where there is much talk of rain shortage I feel fortunate that we have what others might see as an overabundance of rain. Those who are concerned with always making a fashion statement may opt for those readily available and oh so adorable yet trendy rain boots and a well constructed designer raincoat. When those infamous April showers make their entrance, and if fashion is not that high on your list of priorities, there is always the oversized but sturdy golf umbrella and in a pinch, KNIRPS!!

60

I expected to have many different thoughts regarding the aging process as I begin yet another decade, but the thoughts I feel I must conjure up on this auspicious occasion appear to be playing possum and I find myself unable to get sufficiently riled up to properly vent on the subject.
It is way too much work to conjure up and record the stepping stones that my feet have trod on my way to the place I am now, so in order to give voice to how I REALLY feel as I stand at this precipice, I will simply say that I am thankful, more than I could ever have imagined I'd be.
It has indeed taken a village to get me here and as I reminisce, my thoughts are with those who make up my very special village. Each and every inhabitant is special to me in their own inimitable way and because they have individually and collecively left their footprints on my heart, I cannot name them here as that would be way too trite even for me.
I expected to rail at the injustices of aging and instead if I am being perfectly honest I must admit to not caring at all. Age has always been just a number to me and today I find that that remains my truth. I am fine with 6o and still looking forward to my most favourite day in April with the same excitement that has accompanied all my birthdays of the past. 60 has not been able to dampen my love of my birthday anymore than I wager 70 will but if things should change, I'll be sure to do the birthday/age rant that will no doubt ensue.

Family and Money

Maybe the old saying about money being the root of all evil isn't as far off the mark as I thought; While in the past, I found it hard to believe that familial fractures could simply be relegated to the dollar sign column insofar as blame goes, but now I fear that there is some element of truth to the matter. What amount are we talking about? $1,000.000? $2,000,000? more? Do the same rules apply if the amount is $100,000? In fact I fear it is any and all amounts that take an active role in creating the fissures that seemingly appear out of nowhere and threaten the once tight weave of the family make-up. The sudden Pot of Gold syndrome can strike at the heart of every family no matter how closely knit you believe your personal unit to be. Is there an insurance policy to cover any of the devastating destruction that this sudden sweep of money leaves in its wake? Sadly to my knowledge, no there is not. This leaves me to wonder why and to consider how I can PROFIT from this obvious niche in the market!

The Giving Elm

When you are many things to many people you may delude yourself with thoughts that you are like a symbolic elm tree, massive in your capacity to provide shade and safe harbour to those you care for without batting a single leaf or branch. The truth however,is not quite so simple nor is it stately as is that fine tree.
In actuality, the more you give, the more you begin to strongly resemble an over pruned shrub. As others increase their expectations/demands,your self preservation instincts decrease, almost like tit for tat and this happens at mach speed so that you don't really get to see yourself during the transformation period.
As an 'elm' you may have delusions of granderur, so it doesn't occur to you that you have become an endangered member of the forest family. You do not see that the constant heaviness born by your branches has taken a mighty toll on your outer frame. Yet you are a happy tree even as you give more and more and you have no regrets when you finally get a good look at yourself after years of standing tall.
What you see is an older tree whose exterior is much changed. To the unknowing eye you may appear to be the same old elm, but in fact you are not. You continue to stand when it would be so much simpler to bend and sit for awhile, and you do this because you are after all a giving elm right down to your very roots.