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.