A Close Family

We always say that our family of 5 is close and gets along with the minimum of fuss and/or angst. We supposedly do not meddle and have been known to be diplomatic when trying to offer support rather than speaking the words that oftentimes race across our minds depending upon the situation. None of us live in the same city, actually only 3 are in the same country but this does not prevent our consistent telephone connection no matter the time difference or price of long distance calling. After all, with family money is no object. This past year one of us has placed himself in what the others consider a precarious social condition. At first we did the diplomacy thing but it did not have the desired effect so little by little we became more succinct about our opinions and suggestions. We stopped just short of an all out FIGHT (anathema to our CLOSE family!!) and still we could not convince him to make the necessary modifications. We found ourselves in uncharted territory. What to do when all plans fail and the sib in question insists on wallowing in the mire? We find ourselves with no choice but to withdraw from the normal week to week sharing sessions and believe me, this is no mean feat given our familial norms. We do a complete rollback and we cease communications in Toto. Surprisingly, while this does not solve the problem for our sib, it is exactly what the doc ordered for us! Suddenly we are no longer feeling those pangs in the pits of our stomachs that are the by-products of worry. With each passing week of no 'new' information, we get stronger and the quilt of guilt (for not having been able to help)that we had become used to wearing, seems to be disintegrating. What becomes apparent as time goes by is that a truly 'close' family is one whose members rarely speak!

Wind

Well it seems that our high winds are a mere 19 clicks removed from a hurricane which doesn't seem to go with what I know as we are still in the midst of a full blown winter. I guess the piper needs to be paid if we suddenly have a 'balmy' sunny February day at +9. We get the water warnings, the thin ice warnings the squall and whiteout warnings but we do not get what I consider to be a proper wind warning. I am certain that no battening down of the hatches occurred in anticipation of potential wind damage, and so we are now the proud residents of this city where fallen trees are strewn across streets and snow swirls in tornado fashion wreaking havoc with our roads and highways though we are told to expect only a 2cm accumulation. How do you dress for this weather? Personally, I will not be leaving home until I am safely zipped into my wind tunnel repellent coat. It has many pipe like attachments which do a spectacular job of deflecting the wind and actually reversing it's attack. I do get that when viewed simply as a piece of clothing, the wind coat will never be up there with its more fashionable counterparts, the trench coat and parka but on days like these, no one will be noticing how you are dressed...The wind coat has its own special wind deflector goggles which are part of the hood, and the control panel (fashionably hidden) on the sleeve will allow you to easily deploy the metal rods that can instantaneously transform into a mini cell like structure, completely enclosing you and keeping you safe from blowing debris; the metal is uncrushable of course and the structure adheres to any surface, from pavement to frozen earth so you are well grounded with no fear. I LOVE my wind coat and the only concern I have is that the structure deactivator has been known to jam, leaving you temporarily 'stuck' and very much still 'out there' when the winds have long gone...then passersby do get to see you and you do look totally ridiculous.
Don't you just love the wind???

My OLD Friend (For S.G.)

It is absolutely untrue..I mean out of sight for me and my 'OLD' friend is definitely NOT out of mind. I have a very close friend and the fact that we have not laid eyes on each other for at least 23 years, has nothing whatsoever to do with altering/annulling our friendship. Granted, we may not be all that well informed when it comes to the minutiae of our day to day lives, but we still manage to remain solidly linked across the miles,and to somehow know all that is important, kind of like down to basics or no frills friendship.. Although having only this sporadic knowledge works just fine for us, its success defies reason, yet nevertheless remains our absolute truth. We have missed seeing each other, we have missed seeing our children grow up and we continue to be physically absent for each other as we march forward in time. Despite this, the tie that binds us is unbreakable. We still wishfully plan our reunion trips and dream about reintroducing our children who last saw each other as babies. We share so much history (approx. 33 years worth and the same birthday month!!) that even if we were to try to cut each other loose, we would surely fail in those attempts. Sometimes it can be challenging to maintain our connection. The computer can only do so much and eaddresses may change so we must be ever vigilant in our determination not to 'lose' each other. Once we resolve to 'know where we are' the rest is pretty much the icing on the cake. We get to keep each other as friends and I think that was always our intent even way back when when we first began.
My friend is still as beautiful as I found her to be when first we met. I do not need to see any recent photos or to see her in person to prove what I already know. She is my OLDEST and best friend who just happens to live very far away.

Am I Ready For Spring???

Once upon a time I thought that I only had 2 favourite seasons and that the ones I didn't love were nothing worth writing home about. I even contemplated telling people who asked me, that we only really had two proper seasons and I loved both! My faves are of course spring and fall. The reasons should be clear but just in case; changing leaf colours, gentle wafting breezes, getting to go out in a tee shirt and sweater instead of being multi layered to stave off the bitter cold, eating on the street beside a favourite food truck, picnics in the park, long walks anywhere and an occasional bike ride, fresh fruit growing willy nilly, gardens in bloom in a full palette of vivid hues, loafers, flip flops, (I am obviously not differentiating in my reasons list)cool rain boots and funky socks..jeans and capris interspersed with skirts and the odd (very) dress, a leather jacket and that old standby, the trench-coat. I love that my scraper is safely stored in the boot of my car and my fat cumbersome snow tires are tucked away in storage along with an assortment of shovels, heavy parkas, scarves, mitts, hats and boots.
There is however one chink in my seasonal armor...I actually do love snow. There is nothing as beautiful as freshly fallen powder that gracefully blankets all ground surfaces as far as the eye can see. The sheer fluffiness of the 'look' is hard to describe in mere words. I know I would miss it terribly were winter not one of the seasons available to me so in a surprise move, I add it to my faves. I do after all have all the accoutrement needed to survive the coldest of the cold and remain nominally toasty. The only drawback would have to be the dirty snow that is all you can see after winter has perhaps overstayed its welcome. The brilliant white can turn to ashen gray in the blink of an eye and the vista is no longer breathtaking, instead it has become grim. I know it is said that we eat with our eyes but I think we feel with them too because on those dismally grim days no one feels a lightness in their step; they feel an incredible heaviness deep in the soles of their ugly but functional winter boots. This brings us to my other non favourite..summer. Yes I love the balmy nights with wonderfully warm breezes that can almost be called 'wind', yes I love to swim outdoors but only when it is possible to go into and exit the lake or pool without having to run for cover from the cold. For me towels should only be needed to dry off not as a portable tent to protect against the elements. What could I possibly have against what nearly everyone calls 'glorious' summer? Well it's actually quite simple; I HATE those heavily humid hot summer days when even the skimpiest of clothing is still too much...no relief from oppressive heat and dangerous rays unless one is lucky enough to be able to spend those hot hours in an air conditioned space. (at least until sunset)This is an especially challenging season for us ladies who cannot go about topless with the same nonchalance as our male counterparts. So with March breathing down our necks and masses of dirty gray snow everywhere, despite spring being the prelude to summer, I think I'm ready!

Edible Heart-Shaped Valentines

Every year for as long as I can remember, the weekend preceding the 14th was designated for Valentine baking. My daughter and I make up this stupendous dough (ancient family recipe for shortbread..no not our family but it's been so long that it feels like ours now!!)We double an already ample recipe and then refrigerate the mass of buttery fragrant dough. When we are geared up and ready to get busy, we flour up the work surface and the rolling begins. The dough is now perfectly thin and pliant, ready to be cut with the special once a year heart shaped cutter. The hearts are carefully placed on the cookie sheet and then we begin the jamming. Only sour cherry jam will do and only a dab in the centre of each heart to avoid filling overkill. More rolling and cutting results in the heart cookie toppers and then we are done; but that is only the first batch! We repeat the process until all the dough is done and aside from sneaking tastes in between baking shifts, the entire process takes about 4-5 hrs, time so well spent when all is said and done and we have a huge pile of heart shaped jam sandwich shortbread cookies. Only then do we dare to focus on the other aspects of the 14th. We seek out the cards, decide on the chocolate component (crucial) and divvy up the fruits of our labour. When my daughter was young, I did the dough and the rolling, but now that I am older, she doughs and rolls while I jam. This then is a true example of passing the torch when the time is right. The time is clearly right and there is no remorse on my part because Amanda is a true and excellent baker while her mom.... not so much.
Happy Valentine's Day.

A Pound Of Flesh

We are raised not to seek revenge even if it means having to turn the other cheek when the thought of not having our day in the sun is at its most unattractive. Some believe that cheek turning is synonomous with weakness thus making that option even more unappealing. Who after all wants to set themselves up to be seen as a wimp, when they can instead exact a punishment befitting the crime and ensure that their reputation remains untarnished. The trick here is to find the punishment that is deliverable with the packed punch required in order to assuage your feelings of hurt, anger, betrayal and any other which can temporarily (in the best case scenario)wreak havoc with your ability to react/respond sanely.Failure to unearth such a punishment leaves you fresh out of luck if it is a pound of flesh that you are bent on getting, the price for this 'meat' is simply way too high. Unfortunately you'll not ever be able to get that pound of flesh without losing a great part of or what's worse, all your integrity so you'd better put Shylock back to bed on those pages from whence he came.

Valentine's Day Revisited

My dad was the consummate romantic and while I so admired the many ways he chose to show his adoration of and love for our Mom, it never occurred to me that for a young impressionable child, this was not perhaps the thing to see on a daily basis, at least not without the caveat; "do not think that every couple is like us", but we would not have understood or necessarily bought into that so.... I never really knew that in my friends houses there would not be a 'mom' who was literally swept up off her feet by her returning from work husband as happened daily in ours for as long as Dad worked...many many years. I remember being amazed that the parents of friends were nearly never to be seen together in the same room let alone dancing cheek to cheek like mine, whenever any crooners voices came on the radio. My parents held hands everywhere they went and instead of getting how special they were to each other, we were sometimes embarrased because of course none of our friends parents did that...we believed that hand holding was for us teenagers not for our 'old parents' who at the time were so much younger then I am now as I write this. The truth about romantic Mom and Dad is that once glimpsed through the eyes of a child it becomes the norm of expectations even though for me, unfortunately, these expectations were not at all rooted in reality, except of course for those rarified couples like my parents. We grew up not giving credence to what most other homes had, despite having born witness to those lives through time spent away from our home visiting friends, instead we ended up fixating only on what we saw in ours, purely and simply the "L" word at the height of all its perfection. Valentine's Day in our house was cause for even more hearts and flowers than on any other 'normal' day and so it is only natural for me to want at least some of what Mom had in such abundance. I wanted the long stemmed roses in vivid red, I wanted the huge satin padded heart shaped box of mediocre chocolate (pre Belgian)to share with my kids and I wanted the poetry that only a man who truly loves his other half, is capable of composing. It's funny that I have no recollection of Mom's gifts to dad beyond those carefully selected and perfectly chosen cards that seemed to fit Dad to a tee.I do however recall the cards presented to the four of us every Feb.14th by our parents, always the perfect choice. Cards and words played a huge role on our Valentines Days and somehow it is this, that I have chosen to pass on to my own babies even as they grow too old and/or too cynical to want or care about them. I think what is left for me to pay forward is more in sync with the reality of life today, yet part of me will always wish it were otherwise and I could have passed onto them the full blown Valentine's Day that I knew and loved.
Thanks Mom and Dad.

How To Be Supportive At Superbowl Fest

It happens every year but thankfully only once... Superbowl Sunday. Whether you get roped into hosting or pressed into attendance at someone elses party, the angst is pretty much the same if you carry that terrible secret deep inside; that would be your total indifference not only to the outcome of the big game, but to football in general. In an ideal scenario, you host, because then you can busy yourself in the kitchen, prepping and heating with only periodic appearances in the t.v. room when you have to be there for serving purposes. Trust me, as host, no one will notice that you are not glued to the edge of your seat on the sofa, biting your acrylic nails and whooping it up with the guys, as long as you keep the real fans well fed and hydrated.If (unfortunately) you are a guest, you must deputize yourself- immediately upon arrival- to the kitchen crew. If you fail in your mission, the consequences are sure to be pretty harsh. You will be relegated to a seat that will be yours for the duration. You will have to know which teams are playing, have some knowledge of the key athletes and be ever vigilant so that you can cheer and toast at exactly the right time so that no one will be able to know that you are a follower. If you are revealed as a follower the cat will be out of the bag, and this cannot be a good thing. You will be outed as someone who has absolutely no knowledge of how the game is played, how long the quarters are, what the 'downs' really mean etc. etc. In short, you will be like the Emperors New Clothes revealed which will not be pleasant. That sense of camaraderie that prevails at Superbowl house parties will be lost to you and what's perhaps even more punitive, you may well be asked to forefit your seat. The food served to you will not be warm but worse than tepid chicken wings,your beer will probably be the one that never made it into the cooler. In order to carry off this tremendous deception, you must be able to turn in an academy award winning performance, but I believe in you. You CAN do it. By the way, one of the teams is the Steelers!

Comparison Writing

I love paper and pen. Even in this high tech age give me a stack of ivory or ecru coloured vellum, many yellow legal pads, a few leatherbound journals along with a selection of pens from fountain (peacock blue ink of course) to rollerball,(fine tipped only!)and I am blissful. If my dream was a burnished wooden rolltop desk, it was in great part due to my secret wish for a suitable depository for my writing paraphenalia. I always loved to write and for years I blamed my nonwriting exisitance on the stars not being perfectly aligned,which in my case meant that without that desk, there would be no writing. On my 50th bitrhday there it was, my very own deep reddish brown wooden rolltop. As if that wasn't enough, somehow it came fully equipped, all dressed!! The drawers and hidden nooks and crannies were filled with almost everything I had requested in my dreams and it even came with a green library/desktop brass lamp. After the initial shock of this most amazing gift wore off, I decided to at long last get down to the business of writing which I was certain was my destiny, A funny thing happened. Although I tried to fill the legal pads as well as the journals not much was forthcoming in terms of measurable actual words on the page. I thought I had beginners writers block but the problem was actually of a much more simple nature. It is interesting that I can only today, YEARS later. self diagnose the reason for my non productivity. Through retrospection I now get that writing does not just occur, no matter how ideal the surroundings, unless the writer makes a conscious decision to write. Wanting, hoping and planning are only intentions, and do not allow for any real progress, in fact they are more like cement shoes in terms of keeping us rooted to the same spot with no forward movement possible. If I am being honest I have to admit that for me there has always been an element of fear that was intrinsically bound to my writing dreams. Fear of failure was the first of many, and this was by far the toughest one to conquer. Maybe old age makes us bold but today I couldn't care less about potential failure because I finally see that that old adage is true: (at least for me)you know, the one about fear and fear itself etc.. I don't even fear paraphrasing badly now. Today, I understand that I am not in a competition, and that if I engage in ruminating about comparison writing it will have no negative impact whatsoever. Aside from loving to write, I love to read. I will always appreciate a great read. I will always be awed by those words that serve as paint brushes on auto-draw in my head. I will always feel respect and admiration for those craftmasters who spin their yarns on a magic loom, but I will never again let comparison writing stop me in my tracks. The proof? I write this not DESPITE but BECAUSE of an incredible post I have just read!

TGIF

I NEVER say things like TGIF despite the fact that nearly everyone I work with all week seems to break into one happy Friday dance or another. I always smile and nod in agreement with their varied "phew, it's Friday" remarks but I am not the one to initiate any pre weekend celebratory statements. I think this is because my Friday joy is absolute, precious and something I prefer to keep private, for me alone. Why share my 'little' joy when it is more of a quiet personal thing and besides, since everyone has 'theirs' it seems to me that voicing my euphoria might be construed as pre weekend overkill. Instead, I am a supportive bystander to the cartwheels, high fives, excessive snacking in the common lunchroom, broad grins and humming upbeat nameless tunes that gather speed throughout the day and last all the way to quitting time.I am fine with not being an active participant and thoroughly revel in my own thoughts as they pertain to the next 48 hours. I ruminate about many important things. For example; how late might I stay up knowing that for the next 48hrs my alarm clock is mercifully on OFF! What time will I schedule dinners without fear of eating too close to bedtime? How late will I sleep in, just because I can? How much time will be spent lolling about catching up on my reading? Where will I choose to take a leisurely stroll to enjoy this cold winter of ours? Who will come to visit and what movie might we go to see in a real theatre? Which music will I listen to -as loudly as I want- from my playlist? Who will I get to catch up with on the telephone? While I fully recognize that for me, the raptures of weekends are mostly about time, I never get annoyed at all the things I don't get to do throughout the week. I just really LOVE my weekends and Friday being the start, remains my favourite day of all!

Eggs For Dinner

On a stormy cold winter evening after a long day at work and a longer drive home, perhaps the top choices of possible dinners all come from that much loved category: comfort food!
Comfort food is synonymous with coziness and that general feeling of warmth and inner satisfaction, but to me it is also synonymous with too much kitchen work. Too much peeling, chopping, dicing slicing, baking, boiling, oven time and worst of all too much tasting, supposedly to root out any spice deficiency but in reality the need to taste is simply a compulsion born of impatience and being too hungry to wait for the thing to be ready. You may entertain thoughts of crock potting but that does nothing to alleviate the necessity of rinsing, slicing, dicing and the like and besides, there are only so many soupy dinners one can handle.
I decided to have eggs for dinner, along with bacon, cherry tomatoes, cheese and rye toast. I cook my eggs in a small casserole pot which takes about a minute as does the toast, cheese and veg slicing and voila! In under 5 minutes my own personal favourite comforting meal is ready to be eaten, no tasting needed until it is full on assembled. Once plated, a pinch of salt and pepper and I'm good to dine.

Addicted To Text Twist

I have always loved words and all games involving word puzzles. Up to now Scrabble was my all time fave. Crosswords were a fine stand in if a game of Scrabble was not possible and I was satisfied...until.. a friend at work purchased an IPad and introduced me to Text Twist. The addiction began slowly and caught me totally by surprise. In the blink of an eye we were playing throughout our lunch breaks and all too soon we were playing at every single break we had. We began to widen the gaming circle and in no time flat some of our colleagues joined the fray. Now we have become a veritable vocabulary army united in a common cause, to find all the words and fill all the grids. We seem to be in a marathon of letters trying to amass a ridiculous number of points and we are ruthless in our quest to complete our mission . Due to the fact that we cannot move to the next level until we have decoded all the letters and rather than remain stuck, we have finally crossed the moral code line and now resort to online assistance.I thought that this 'help' would lessen the sense of accomplishment as we overcome the hurdles of letters we cannot order and that we cannot help but twist and twist again, but no,honestly, I've checked, and not an ounce of self loathing or remorse is felt. We breeze along frantically typing words and actually spelling them out loud for those who are momentarily masters of the mouse. We have dispensed with the 'timer' no guilt there either...So it seems safe to say that my guilt free addiction is not anything I need counselling for, I will continue to seek help as needed, but that's about it.