I'm outta here!

I just came back from the supermarket. Why is it that of all the loud music from which to choose, these places always choose the female vocalist  - the one who screams all her songs?  Wouldn't you think they would want their customer to concentrate on the merchandise?  To look everything over with no distractions?  In fact, to wander over to the next aisle and do it all again?  Isn't that what their store is all about?  Shopping?  Instead of this, half way through my list, I'm rushing to get out.  I don't realize I'm doing this - I just want out of there!
I was in a high end lingerie store last week.  Here the music was slightly sultry, somewhat lazy, instrumental jazz-type stuff.  The environment was "labelled" immediately.  Completely relaxed, I smiled at the salesgirl, asked her how she was, told her I wanted to browse around, and did so in complete enjoyment.
If music is going to be played, it should identify the store right away, it should say "this is the kind of store we have, this is what we feel about our store, this is reflective of what we want your shopping experience to be." Instead of this - we seem to have a pile of dirty CD's on a counter somewhere, covered in coffee stains, in the wrong cases, and the first person who thinks of it starts the player and turns it up real loud.  In small towns, sometimes the local radio will be playing in the store, and somehow, this is a more pleasant experience.  It's neat that the storekeeper is promoting the town.  More than likely also, they are listening for their own commercial.
I heard a column about "noise" yesterday.  The expert said that noise in all its forms is an increasing part of our environment.  It's invasive, it's loud, and it's affecting all of us in varying degrees, none of them good. Young people are losing their hearing without realizing it.  Our concentration is compromised whether it's in traffic, working in the office, even functioning in a house where several TV's might be turned up real loud.
I have not been quiet about this.  I have asked in various stores about the music.  I have grumbled to the check-out girl, and she usually says "you know what, I never even hear it anymore".  Fair enough.  The onus is on the store owner.

If stores are going to play music - find people who know this stuff.  People who can walk into the store and get a feel for what would work - what would make the customer happy. It's a sub-conscious thing.  All the customer knows is that he's having a good time in the store.   Are there people who do this?  I hope there are.  Because playing the janitor's favorite CD collection just doesn't cut it.

the raccoon problem

We've had a bit of a raccoon problem lately.
They come in the middle of the night and raid our bird-feeder.  We have a small one next to a fence.  They can access the top of the fence from the yard next door.  And they sashay along until they get next to the feeder. Then the hard part starts. They have to reach way down and across to grab the feeder.   Then, holding on to the feeder as best they can, they try to bring it toward them and hug it. They keep almost falling off the fence while clutching the round feeder.
I have my window open a bit at night and can hear this rustling and tinkering.  So one night I get up, go downstairs and open the patio door - shout, wave a newspaper and try to sound angry without waking the neighbors, but it doesn't deter them much.  They run away and come right back.  I decide to simply watch them.  There are two of them doing the fence work, and another one scrounging for seeds on the ground under the feeder.
They can literally scale the fence wall with their hands and feet. Their paws are astonishing.  It's no wonder they can open locks, and get inside places.  You can see their paws and fingers manipulating everything they touch.  The twosome work pretty well together trying to turn the feeder, open it, get it upside down.  There has been only one time that they've managed to get the feeder off it's hook,
emptied, and left on the ground.  I did not see this, just found it the next morning.  The most interesting observation I would make is this: they try to work quietly. While constantly trying to reach out and grab the feeder, it would squeak the odd time, and for that split second their heads would turn towards the door.  They knew that making noise meant trouble for them.
Lately, I've become short of seeds, so to protect what I've got, I've taken to removing the feeder at night.
We are not early risers and this morning the birds are famished.  As soon as they see the feeder going up on its hook again, they are there.  And right now as I sit here in my upstairs window lookout, they are fighting for the best positions.  It's snowing hard off and on, with mounds of snow on the tree branches and fence posts, but they seem very adaptable, and able to perch on the snowdrifts without any problem.
I have had pale yellow birthday carnations with me for 2 weeks. Mostly outside, where I'm convinced cut flowers could last a month normally.  But now, they are frozen solid sitting under the patio table.
I'm paging my bird book - determined to find the new interloper - the bossy red-breasted intruder that is causing all the fuss.
The snow stops and starts, stops and starts.  It seems quiet in the neighborhood - for a Monday.

How the heck did they get that shot!

I was watching a TV show last night about the migration of birds.  It was incredible to hear how far many of these birds will fly every year.  And how mysterious it is for us humans to ponder the drive, the push, the in-bred impetus that puts them up in the air one day for this long long journey to a place that they seem pre-programmed to be.
Seems to be enough for riveting drama, eh?  But the other part of this program that I found almost more riveting was the footage.
The camera work was quite simply, incredible.  We were so close to the geese, swans, storks, ducks,  that we could see their tail feathers being the perfect "rudders" and adjusting their flight patterns every so slightly.  We were so close that we could see their eyes blink, their awkward feet splaying out endearingly, we could almost hear them breathing.  In many cases the angle of the shot would include the earth beneath, and their destinations take them over some gorgeous scenes.
We have become so inured to seeing stuff like this that I suppose most people would just take such images for granted.  Most people would never stop to think - hey, whose taking this footage?  What human being is so close to this bird with what camera?  And how come this bird is not zooming quickly away from the human being and the camera?  Did the participants in this "shoot" have a production meeting?  "Okay, now fly in a pattern like this and whatever you do, don't look at the camera!"
It didn't take me long to devote my full attention to this production.  We saw birds flying at night, flying through snow, through fog, we saw them flying right past the Statue of Liberty.
Yes, the awesome journeys are mind-boggling enough.  But let's also clap our hands for the human species in this drama.  Let's remember that this movie extravaganza was brought to us by a human being in a plane, with a camera, in all kinds of weather, in all kinds of countries - surely this is also it's own kind of extreme accomplishment.
What does this say about our knowledge base in the year 2010.  What are we learning here.  We're knowing things that no other generation has ever seen or known.  It's no wonder that young people today are way smarter than their parents, and certainly their grandparents ever were at their age.
My first comment is always - "How the heck did they get that shot!"

the window guy

We got our windows cleaned today.  A delightful and completely painless experience.
A jaunty young man arrives at the door at 10 o'clock.  "I start on the inside, while my shoes are still clean.  (he laughs)  "Oh no, you don't have to move a thing.  Stay downstairs here and finish your coffee, watch the football game.  I'll look after everything".
Merv likes the sound turned up so we don't hear much and in 20 minutes he's done.
He goes to do the outside of the windows and I run upstairs to check. The windows are clean and clear.  (Lord, I didn't think they were that dirty!)  There's no sign of any kind of disruption.  Items on dressers are simply moved from the back to the centres.  Blinds raised.  The huge bathroom mirrors have never looked better.  How did this little guy do all this with so little hassle, so little planning, so little back and forthing.  He uses a small squeegee thing, and moves quickly and has a cloth as I recall, but I never even saw those until he started the outside work.  That's how quickly he arrived, went upstairs seemingly empty handed, and came down with the job done.
Same with the outside.  He's up and down ladders, back and forth, back and forth, and he's done.  Moves ladder, repeat.  Moves ladder, repeat.  No scraping noise of the ladder.  Just no sense that a job is being done, you know what I mean?  Just so sort of - well - quiet.
He and Merv had chatted downstairs a bit earlier.  Sounds as if he does a lot of large cleaning jobs, not just windows, and that he had a fair amount of staff at one time, but discovered it was inefficient, and bothersome. "I can do twice as much with half as much hassle completely on my own."
In an hour and 15 minutes, he's done. $75 dollars cash in his pocket and our name and number so he can call again in the spring.
Windows sparkling clean both in and out in an hour and a quarter!  No muss, no mess.  Lower the blinds again, and that's it.  Now that is money well spent.
He has a houseful of kids, and needs to bring in money, for sure.  His wife just got him a set of drums for his birthday, and you could tell he was completely thrilled by this.
So our little house feels bright and even the view outside looks as if it's been given a go-over!  It was another one of those things in life where you didn't know the job needed to be done until it was
and then - Wow!

War

I was remembering all the November 11th observations that have passed through my life.
I remember being a little Girl Guide and wearing my uniform on November 11th.  Everyone in our little town would gather at our Cenotaph beside the Anglican Church.  I remember the cold.  It seemed that Remembrance Day was always cold and often gray.  And there would us teeth-chattering little girls with our uniforms mostly covered up with beat-up jackets and boots.  We'd be in a group more or less, along with the Scouts, and church groups and Legion groups, and Moms and Dads.  We tried not to jump up and down to stay warm, and we thought the marching, and speeches, and tributes would never end.  It seemed such a solemn thing to see the town leaders approaching the Cenotaph with the wreaths - and trying to salute like a soldier, and getting it wrong, or the wreath falling over after it was propped up, and then turning the wrong way to leave, and us little girls would giggle.
As the years went by, it seemed I was there supporting other groups - the church youth group, or a school group - one time I even became part of a twosome taking a wreath up there!
There's something about war and the human spirit.  There's something about a young man going off to a far away country to fight for freedom, or victory, or honor.  These deaths are always remembered.  In a special and unique memory.  They are always pondered quietly and seriously -
In Canada, we feel specially solemn.  Our soldiers have always been the best.  The most committed.  It's beyond belief how our young men went to battle on strange land and lost their lives for freedom.
"Lest we forget".  These awesome three words that say so much.  "Lest we forget".

Rolling Stones

I missed out on the "Rolling Stones".
I knew they were around, but I never really went out of my way to pay much attention to them at the time.  They seemed so noisy.  Little did we know back in 1970 that they would become icons.
Keith Richards has written a book about his life with the Rolling Stones, and it's getting very good reviews.

"You can't imagine that this book could be any better than it is...Keith holds nothing back. It's funny, gossipy, profane and moving and by the time you finish it you feel like you're friends with Keith Richards." (Will Dana, Rolling Stone )

"Entertaining...a slurry romp through the life of a man who knew every pleasure, denied himself nothing, and never paid the price." (David Remnick, The New Yorker )

Surely the most amazing thing about them is their longevity.  Is there really any other music group that has toured as much, written so much music, been in the news so much?  They have truly "lived large" to the Nth degree, held nothing back, refused to be cowed or put into a category.  Fearless.
The Beatles and the Rolling Stones started the same year.  Isn't that awesome?  Could 2 more famous musical groups be more different?  If you go back and watch them let's say in 1970 - they are very very different.  The Beatles with their sedate sort of banjo type presentation of that time, and the Rolling Stones who loved to put on a show big time.  Mick Jagger right from the start was one of the most confident human beings we have ever seen on a stage. An eclectic and absorbing, and inventive musical force.
It must be awesome to be so famous that almost everyone in the world knows about you.  I heard a piece on radio the other day about "famousness".  Famous people have no freedom to just put on their jeans and go for a walk, park at the Mall and go shopping.  Famous people can't go to their favorite park and throw a frisbee with the dog.  They pay a price for notoriety.

I went to Wiki and learned a lot:.
In the early 1950s Keith Richards and Mick Jagger were boyhood friends and classmates at primary school in England, and then their families moved apart.  In 1960 Richards was at a train station - on his way to class at College. Jagger was on his way to class at the London School of Economics. (can you imagine a Mick Jaggers at the London School of Economics?)  And they met at the train station !!!.  And Jaggers invited Richards to the first rehearsal of this as-yet-unnamed band . The band became the "Rolling Stones" when a band member phoned Jazz News to place an advertisement. When asked what the band's name was, he glanced at a Muddy Waters LP lying on the floor. One of the tracks was "Rollin' Stone".  
So we've learned something else about them.  Keith Richards is a writer kind of guy.  Mick Jaggers will likely never be interested in writing his memoirs.  I would love to be a spot on the wall, and hear his comments as he leafs his way through Keith's book.
Final thought.  I wonder if the others grumbled the odd time about Mich Jaggers getting all the attention on the stage.
Entertainers.  What would we do without them.

Walkin' the dog

Drama on the Boardwalk today.
A small woman is taking her dog for a walk and the dog is absolutely huge!  He looks to be young and somewhat high strung.
I'm walking behind them.  I see an elderly lady walking slowly toward us.  She is wearing a pull-over-the-head touque that has ears.  And a pair of bright red gloves.
As the elder lady approaches the dog, she stops to ask the owner a question.  The dog is immediately upset and starts barking and moving around a lot.  The owner tries to settle him down.  He's having none of it, and continues to move about a lot, especially in the direction of the questioner.  This animal is as high as the owner's waist ! While trying to answer the lady's question, she is also instructing the dog to sit! to lie! to be still!  Finally, she gets him into a lying down mode, and this works well for a minute, but he's still aroused.  I figure I better keep moving.  The last thing I hear is the dog owner saying that she thinks her dog is afraid of the red gloves.
I turn to look back more than once. The poor girl seems to be in a kneeling condition most of the time, trying to control the dog.  Pretty well everyone is now watching this.  Even after 5 minutes, when I look around again, the dog owner still seems to be having a bad time, and the elderly lady is still standing there!  Talking!
When I get to end of the boardwalk, and turn to go back, I see the dog owner walking far away across the field with the enormous dog now appearing to be perfectly happy.  I'm glad her ordeal is over.  I wonder whether it really is her dog after all, or if she were walking it for a friend.
As I approach the other end of the boardwalk and finish my walk, I see the questioner ahead, walking slowly.  I decide to ask her how her adventure went.  I realized immediately that she can't hear very well.  "Did the dog settle down?" I ask her several times before she hears.  "It was the hat, I think" she said.  "She said it was the gloves".
I felt sorry for the dog, and the owner.  He was too young to be out there, and too big for her to handle.  I thought the questioner was a bit to blame, as well.  If she had quickly walked away, the poor dog owner may have been able to settle things down.
So much for dog control.
    

A good cuppa -

I was talking to a girlfriend awhile ago about trying to make a good cup of coffee.
We both complained about poor taste, bitterness, and inconsistency - never really knowing whether the coffee was going to turn out good that morning or not.
A couple of months ago, without any previous thoughts on the subject, I found myself filling my kettle with cold water and setting the burner on high.  I took my coffee maker carafe  and just spooned the coffee right into the bottom of it.  When the water came to a boil, I poured it into the carafe!  "Well now," I thought, "this should be good for a laugh".  I stared with some nervousness at the carafe sitting on the counter - half filled with what looked like dark brown sludge.  Using a sieve, I poured the sludge into 2 coffee mugs.  There was as lot of coffee grounds in the sieve.  I felt really stupid .  But guess what? The coffee tasted completely awesome!  I watched Merv's face, and sure enough,  "Boy, what did you do with the coffee?  It tastes delicious!"
Needless to say, I kept doing this every morning.  I kept the carafe, but threw out the rest of the coffee maker.  I started experimenting. Stirred the coffee a bit, stirred it a lot, let it sit for 5 minutes before serving, let it sit longer. The only change was that sometimes I would have less coffee grounds in the sieve.  Other than that the coffee remained completely perfect in taste.  Never wavered.  Merv and I started having little snits about "you took too much coffee!".  There was never any coffee left over.  (We have always used our microwave to "re-hot" our coffee so this remained the same.)
On our travels one time, we stayed at a bed and breakfast with a kitchen!  Whatever you liked for breakfast was already in the frig. We loved this arrangement, and got to use a "french press" coffee maker there.  I thought back to this and decided that this was close to what I was doing in my kitchen.  I was making coffee by pouring hot water into coffee grounds.  Last weekend we bought a french press coffee maker - a "Bodum".  Looks exactly like the picture above.  Not sure if it is big enough.  It bills itself as an 8-cup pot, but I think it translates into about 4 cups of coffee.  It makes the same cup of coffee as mine. Tastes exactly the same.  I look forward to it with complete confidence every morning.
A perfect way to start the day.