send in the clowns

"ATTITUDE"

2011-06-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

She was trying on a hat in Macy's department store. She had girl friends with her, and was putting on a show to make them laugh. The sales lady was black and gorgeous and laughed along with them. "You've got attitude!" she said with just that right drawl.

Having attitude seems a lot like "acting out" although I've never quite put my finger on that theory. "Acting out" could also describe writers and painters and musicians. These people put their artistic personalities "out there". They express what's in their souls and put it out for the world to see. It seems to me that this would take some guts, to bare your innermost thoughts and feelings and passions and abilities.

If you were to line up the world, and put all the actors and musicians, and comedians, and writers, and dancers off to one side, it might look pretty small. Artists have different bells and whistles than the rest of humanity.

This group must be growing though.

Babies have cameras clicking as they come out of the womb. Look at Facebook, listen to them talk. Way more "in your face" than their parents were at that age. Look at their photo albums. They have photo shoots, even dress up for them and pose in wonderful silliness. Teenage boys go to Malls to spend a day posing in various positions and various places in the Mall. They don't even realize they have a sense of the shot, a perfect sense of silliness. Artistic silliness.

You can shove a microphone in front of anyone on the street and as if they had been doing this sort of thing all their lives, "I saw it come down over there and then there was a loud explosion". Take out your camera and the waiter, the girl in the table next to you, and the busboy fight over who will take your picture.

In far off lands, people are yelling and shouting and waving banners and flags and in some cases putting themselves in real danger fighting for a better life. And all the while they know where the camera is and play to it.

So, yes, perhaps there are folks that would say we have way too much 'attitude' . Fair enough.

I know there is an underside to this. I know that we often say "He's way too full of himself".

But in the trade-offs of life, I would respond most often to people with "attitude".

People who when they walk in a room make the others say "who's that?" People who light up a room. People who are larger than life. who say unusual things in unusual ways. Attitude is not the worst thing that a person can have.

Three cheers for "attitude". Long may it live.

Jigsaw Table

2011-05-15T11:19:00.000-07:00

Jigsaw puzzles are one of my favorite things. I decide I want to have one "on the go" all the time. Part of my day.

I was using a card table on the landing upstairs, but it was ugly.

So I go shopping. "Look, I'm not going to have a glass of wine with a friend up there, I'm not going to read a book. I'm going to work on the puzzle, look out the window to check on the world, perhaps sit on a comfy chair the odd time with a phone call."

I walked right by it at first. It had been on the floor for awhile, had the odd ding here and there, so it was priced right. Although I had no idea what my table might look like, this turned out to be the exact thing. And it looked even better when the delivery guys said "where?" and I said "right against that wall".

So now I pour my second cup of coffee and head right up here.

I've discovered that you can do a jigsaw puzzle and listen to the radio at the same time. They seem to use different parts of the brain.

I get my puzzles from the Pomegranate website. They cost about $18 each, and a lot of them are from the Boston Museum.

I order about 10 at a time.Takes me about 2 months to do a puzzle.

I choose the hardest ones - take a piece and move it slowly back and forth over the puzzle pieces saying "Are you my mother?"

Not sure whether Frank Lloyd Wright's "Pencils" is hard. Maybe it will be easy.

But how about this "Huichol Yarn Painting!".

My system is chaotic - a whole bunch of a certain color. Small completed sections dotted everywhere. You can't believe the rush when you pick up one of these and it slips so smoothly and magically into the big picture.

I whisper a lot - "You are a genius!" "Just look! Did you see what I just did!". My pretend friend giggles her congratulations and I go down for more coffee.

Reading

2011-05-01T09:07:00.000-07:00

"The habit of reading is the only one I know in which there is no alloy. It lasts when all other pleasures fade. It will be there to support you when all other resources are gone. It will be present to you when the energies of your body have fallen away from you. It will make your hours pleasant to you as long as you live."
I know a lot of people for whom this comment would resonate.
A friend comes for a visit. Her overnight case has one thing in it - a book. A big, big book. It looks like it weighs about 10 pounds.
I can feel the resignation in her voice. "Yes, I know. But what could I do? I had already waited for 3 months. The library called - and well, here it is".
We laugh as we get in the car. I don't think she gets much of a chance to read while she's here. But I hope she got that book read before she had to return it.
Many times I've been surrounded by women talking non-stop about the books they're reading. "Have you read it?" is always the first question, and if you say "no" the flood gates open. At the bridge table, Tim Horton's, or while the men are talking hockey, the women are talking books. Oprah seems to be a good source, and I think they read their share of book reviews but it seems to me they get most of their ideas from each other.
And this is happening all on a background of "people aren't reading books anymore".
I secretly admire these women. I'm embarrassed when I admit to never reading books. I feel like I'm not keeping up, not dedicated.
And I think this is true. I'm part of the computer generation that is losing it's ability to concentrate. I do most of my reading on the Internet and even my print reading is magazines and newspapers. Everything I read is short. Just the other day I noticed that the articles on one of my favorite web sites are becoming a bit long. It's making me nervous. I'm clearing my throat as I begin to feel my fingers getting itchy. My eye is looking wildly down the screen to see how much longer this article is going to last.
One of my web sites lets you read the full article for a limited amount of time, and after that you just get the shortened version. This used to really bug me. And then one day I realized that I liked the shortened version.
Even reading newspapers on the Internet, they often give you 3 paragraphs or less, and then give you the option of clicking "read more - " Less and less I am taking that option, having learned all I wanted from the 3 paragraphs.
I haunt the movie review web sites and read them all. Watch the movie reviews and movie clips. I wouldn't think of watching a whole movie. It usually disappoints.
I haunt the book review web sites and read them all. Increasingly we are given the option of reading the first chapter of the book. I don't think I'll continue to do this. I always like the book review better than the first chapter of the book.
I read a lot of blogs. I read a lot of poetry. But I don't read books.
I'm in bed right now. Awake early, and reach for my computer. I need to find out who wrote the words I quoted above. In the search, I catch up with the world as we know it. A perfect start to the day.
You know that song? "I know a little bit about a lot of things . . . . . . ." That's me.
(The fellow who I quoted at the beginning is Anthony Trollope. He wrote "The Way We Live Now" - a scathing 100-chapter of English greed (1875)

the Abbey

2011-04-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

20 years ago, we were in Westminster Abbey.

It's a Sunday morning. In London. As we turn the first corner, we see a long long line up to the door of the church.

We walk to the front and say "We're here to take Communion".

Without the slightest hesitation, the security rope is opened and in seconds we find ourselves in the lobby of the Abbey!

Before we can get our breath, the usher is there. A discussion about seating.

"It's a summer Sunday, and all we have here is the boys' choir, so there's lots of seats up there. Would you like to sit in the Choir stalls?"

We try to look ho-hum about all this as we settle in our seats and timidly look to our left and stare at the crowd below filling the church. Everything has happened so fast, there's a "should I pinch myself to see if this is real" feeling about it all!

Is the word "Communion" the key to Westminster Abbey?

Each seat has deep sides. We have to lean forward to peak at each other. It is comforting, because we feel exposed. We hope that we look touristy enough that the rest of the crowd does not suppose we are members of the choir.

Such an historic place. That morning, the past seems to be sitting next to us.

It still seems like a dream.

We tell anyone who will listen about this adventure in our favorite city.

So here's to Kate and William. We hope they have a perfect wedding day!

CHINA

2011-04-27T07:48:00.000-07:00

China has taken centre stage lately. I've always wondered what buttons they have been pushing.
Here's a short "take" on what makes China tick. I found it in the New York Times. I was impressed at the simplicity of the writing. I grasped the characterization of the country instantly, and the concept has stayed with me solidly. In fact, I heard myself describing it to a friend the other day. I was a bit taken aback at the fragility of the arrangement there, and the idea that somehow the people in charge had seemingly lucked into the formula for keeping things on an even keel. But you have to be impressed. Very impressed.

"China largely operates on Confucian/Buddhist/Daoist values. "Harmony" and "harmonization" are not euphemisms in China. They are essential and basic tenets of the need to maintain balance between coexistent opposing and conflicting forces. The alternative, perfectly understood by most Chinese and anyone aware of China's culture and history, is turmoil and chaos.
Pew Global opinion polls show that the present Chinese Government enjoys higher public support than most so-called democracies. The reasons for this are that the present Chinese government, probably more than any other government in China's entire history, is viewed by its public as competently delivering social and economic progress, and harmony. Today is a very different China from that of the Empress Dowager, of Sun Yat-sen and the warlords, of many years of civil was and foreign incursions, or of Mao Zedong. It is a reformist authoritarian state with many democratic characteristics.
It is intensely interested in, and is responsive to domestic and global opinion. But China understands itself: it cannot stay on its path of steady progress without an authoritarian element in maintaining harmony.
To get some idea how different China's concept of harmony is from western values, consider this:
Confucianism is secular - a hierarchical system of sublimation of the individual to the higher needs of society and family.
Chinese Buddhism is intensely spiritual and individualistic.
Daoism is mystical and shamanistic.
While there is a good dash of Islam and Christianity in the Chinese values cocktail as well, there is no acceptance for the traditional claims of universality of any of the great belief systems.
The result is a paradox: an extraordinarily harmonious, tolerant and peaceable society which is inherently unstable if allowed to slip out of balance.

Bob Dylan

2011-04-20T11:13:00.000-07:00

Maureen Dowd is an opinion writer for the New York Times - political stuff.
But lately she's been talking about Bob Dylan.
He did a concert in China.
Perhaps because the Chinese are nervous about all the civilian uprisings lately, he was required to tell them what he was going to sing.

Maureen Dowd was incensed. She implied that Dylan was "selling out", that he's a protest singer and should have sung protest songs in China.
Lots of writers came to his defense.

What interested me in all the background material about him was that he himself never thought he was political. "I had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that I was supposed to be the voice of."
Some folks are even saying that he put one over on the Chinese, and sang lots of stuff that should have made them angry.
I heard that he was on the top of his game at the concert and that his harmonica was sizzling - so that would have made the crowd extremely happy.
Leave him alone, Maureen. He's an icon and we want our icons unsullied.
Her column garnered 300 letters, most of which supported him. I read every one of them.

computer obsession

2011-04-18T15:48:00.001-07:00

Her computer plays soft jazz

The window blinds pulled high to catch the morning light

computer shopping for designer fashion

Eileen Fisher emailed the invite

Canadians welcome! they say on her site

Oh sure, but at what cost pray tell!

Zip over to the Picasso exhibit at MoMA

Newspaper headlines from NewYork and Toronto

Facebook status check of the grandchildren

clever and boistrous by turns, this new schoolyard communication

A long article "How David Beats Goliath" - when underdogs break the rules"

Compelling writing, New Yorker standard fare.

A glass of wine with lunch and earphones for Diana Krall, Elvis Costello, Blue Heron. YouTube the new radio.

Jigsaw puzzle background favorite podcasts - science, books, religion.
Never enough time for the big world out there.

playing "store"

2011-04-17T17:11:00.000-07:00

To three little girls

it was like a big department store

with dresses and shirts and hats hung all over

And our Dad would walk in

And look everything over very seriously

and ask about a sweater or a scarf or a belt

"I'll take one of those and three of those - "

we would giggle and carefully mark down his choices

on old order forms from his office

We would feel grown up

Not like we were standing around the dining room table

with all our paper cut-outs spread out in little rows

But like we were right at the Bay on Betts Avenue

and the murmer and laughter of the ladies shopping

was all around us.

the blossoms

2011-04-14T13:32:00.000-07:00

Awkward like party dresses shy blossoms

unaccustomed to adoration

this annual wedding of the blushing bridesmaids

we reach up and break off the blossoms

looking guilty for some reason

as if a bank robbery

the evidence later found in a little jar

on the kitchen counter

or the small window in the bathroom

or just inside the front door on the cedar chest

no matter how many years how many colors how many trees

Ice cream for a hungry land longing for summer.

To My Last Period

2011-04-13T17:54:00.000-07:00

Caroline Kennedy was on the radio today.

She's collected some poems and put them together.

"She Walks in Beauty" - mostly for women

falling in love, breaking up, work, children, growing old and growing older are some of the topics.

So the guy on the radio introduces her, talks about the book,

says he wants to read one of the poems.

He says "It's called "To My Last Period"

Well, girl, goodbye.

After 38 years, 38 years

And you've never arrived splendid in your red dress

Without trouble for me somewhere, somehow

Now it's done.

And I feel just like the grandmother who,

after the hussy has gone sits holding her photograph and sighing

Wasn't she beautiful - wasn't she beautiful.

(By Lucille Clifton, who died last year)

He says to Caroline "and why did you choose that poem?"
There's a bit of a silence -

"I can't believe you read that poem!"

It was a delightful piece of radio.

Dad

2011-04-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

It's hard to remember a long life.

It's hard to think back to years and years of stuff

My sister says "I can't remember that day!

How can you remember something that happened

So long ago!"

And my brother says "Dad used to tell the weirdest jokes.

I never could tell whether they were funny

or just crude and tasteless"

This would get us all talking over top of each other

about our Dad

Nothing would get us going more than talking about our Dad

Lots of feelings there - sadness, guilt, hilarity, love, anger -

I can still see him at the door

Watching my Mom hugging us all - the laughter and smiles -

And us watching him watching us with that comforting smile

His hands in his pockets.

California Upkeep

2011-02-06T20:08:00.000-08:00

You can tell a good chamber maid by the bedskirt.
If the bedskirt is always straight and true, no matter how complicated the design of the coverings - you can be sure the rest of the room will follow suit. Many of these ladies are Mexican and we're impressed. Here in California, these people are just what is needed right now. Along the coast, in Carmel-by-the Sea, Santa Barbara, and Palm Springs inland, many hotels and restaurants have been around for a long long time. And what makes them work is the exquisite upkeep they get. Even though the bathroom from another era may lack counter space and the shower has seen a better day, the whole room is spotless and shining - every tile scrubbed and polished, taps gush hot water, toilets flush with exuberance, and you feel cared for and pampered. The carpet looks freshly laundered, the old bedroom furniture oiled and wiped to fairly glisten. And this culture continues everywhere. The restaurants, shops on main street, museums - all of them are constantly surrounded by small business technicians and workmen - carefully fixing this and that, making sure that all is well.

We search for a good food store and are delighted. The produce department looks like an art show, the meat and fish are so tantalizing we have trouble choosing, and their massive aisles of better-than-average products makes the whole shopping trip a great deal of fun. Because we'd been intent on the task at hand with the first visit, we laughed when we returned the second time to discover that the outside looked old and badly in need of a re-do. It's obvious their large clientele could care less, and that the store had decided to put their money into products and service. But it's another indication that many places are in danger of becoming beyond their "best date". A lot of these properties are in prime locations. Taxes must be horrendous. The landlords have to balance the budget. They deserve full marks for working hard to keep from throwing out the baby with the bathwater. They preserve the important things - service, product and cleanliness - and impress us mightily with charm and integrity. Good choices.

Away from home

2011-02-01T20:18:00.000-08:00

I'm a home body. I never want to be away from home.

But when it's time to golf, and to drive, and to see what's out there, we get in our little sports car and head down the road.

And when we get there, I like it. Not right away, but when the rain stops and the cold stops, and we turn a corner to find sunshine forever, I like it.

And I'm good with it right away. We find a place that's liveable, and different, and has 2 burners, and a frig, so we can stay home of an evening and cook a steak or lamb chops or salmon fillets, or an omelet and next morning have some really good toast with really good peanut butter. It doesn't take a lot, you know, for happiness. It doesn't take a lot. Just a friendly room where hot water flows when you need it, and the bed is big and soft, and a little fireplace burns brightly for cocktail time, and we can get those burners going and we're in charge. We love doing lunch, though. We like to go out for lunch. Here's my favorite lunch. A good restaurant. A good menu. And places to see before lunch and shopping to do after lunch - fun shopping in neat little spots not seen before.

I miss the things we all love about home. I miss my own bathroom. My bedroom. My piano. My walks on the ocean. My favorite fish and chip place. My dance exercise routines. My birds. My views that change from day to day - all the things that make a home a home. But there's a lot to be said for a little journey now and then. And every time we leave home, we come back with a sense of awe about the world and all that's out there.

Tsunami

2011-01-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

A girl from the prairies can't know this sound,

this roar from the beach.

She can't know that when she turns the corner

to see the noise, she will be afraid.

The beach is crowded, kids pounding the sand

bare feet dodging to stay ahead of the rising foam.

roaring water hurling toward them as they scream and yell

She grabs his arm. He's shouting to the others

Pointing and laughing. Wow! Let's go! Let's go!

Wait, her head is saying. Something is wrong

Something bad is going to happen

She sees the water wild, out of control - like the tsunami on TV

Terror rising in her throat, she starts running back up the beach

They call to her but she runs faster.

California Dreamin'

2011-01-25T18:14:00.000-08:00

We've been living in Calfornia for awhile - a winter vacation.
The sun has been shining a lot, and this seems to have surprised the natives. "Oh yeah - we've had terrible weather lately" they say "even our summer wasn't good this year". Be that as it may, as soon as we crossed the line from Oregon to California, the sun came out and it's stayed out ever since. Now, this is North America in January, so we're not talking about shorts and sandals, but for us from Canada, it's like a miracle.
Even more of a miracle is where we are in California. Even been to Carmel, California? Ever caught sight of the ocean when you weren't expecting to? The waves in Carmel/Monterey California are truly "Hollywood" waves. These waves simply roar - they roar in and out and up and down. They crash into the rocks, climb up the craggy edges, bang against whatever is in the way. People stand in awe. People are struck dumb by this spectacle. It comes in all forms. There are big-sigh waves, angry waves, show-off waves, king-of-the-castle waves and everything in between.
Sunsets are glorious, too. Huge, rich and red, coloring the sky pink and coral. We're living in an apartment high up with a balcony. It looks down on huge trees of all kinds, with lots of invisible real estate underneath. Through this, we get just a slice of the ocean, but it's a pretty good slice considering the price we're paying. And if we're here at 5:15, Merv is usually out getting yet another shot of the sunset. This is also a sight that makes you feel very small. It's the way the planet works - just doing what it's always done. Whatever or whoever is paying attention is of no interest to the principals involved.
Some of us respond to "planet" stuff with awe and fear. All the stuff about "light years" and "black holes" and discovery of strange planets that may or may not have life on them. Those shots the satellites take of outer space can be daunting, especially if you're the kind of person who is inclined to put music in the background - scary music filled with unknown chords and keys.
I mean - would you sign up for an interplanetary space journey? The answer to that question definitely separates the men from the boys. And an ocean that is rich with movement and drama seems to belong somewhat in the category of wild and unknown phenomenon. Although I feel privileged to live within walking distance of an ocean beach, this piece of Carmel ocean is another kettle of fish entirely.

the outdoor rink

2011-01-06T17:48:00.000-08:00

We were watching the outdoor NHL game last night. I think it was Washington playing in Pittsburgh.
It reminded me of a story a good friend told me one time.

"In 1940, my parents rented one of the very few houses in the east end of Regina, Saskatchewan, right next to Wascana lake. Along the lake was a wide open stretch of land. Us boys in the neighborhood took it over. We built a football field, a baseball diamond and a 3 hole golf course.

When winter came we decided we needed a hockey rink. In those days people didn't have running water or sewer in their houses. We had to haul water for drinking, cooking, laundry and bathing from a "standard" at the corner of each city block. We decided to build our rink under the street light adjacent to the standard so we'd be close to our water source. The first year we ended up with a kind of pond surrounded by snow drifts and we spent more time looking for the puck than we did playing hockey. Next year, they were building "wartime houses" in the area, and a delegation of us asked the contractor for the concrete forms left over from poring the basements. He agreed and all of a sudden we had a hockey rink with real boards. The installation wasn't easy as we had to build supports to hold the boards and then freeze them in place. But the parents pitched in to help and we got the job done. It was becoming a neighborhood project. I can't really remember if any girls were interested, but I don't think so. I would have remembered.
As we progressed to a regulation size hockey rink with real boards, we encountered new problems. It was almost impossible to flood this rink from the "standard" because of the low water pressure. So our delegation went to City Hall to see if the fire department would help us by flooding the rink from the fire hydrant across the road. They agreed to do it right after freeze up. The day they did it was a very exciting day for us. All that ice, and the boards around the ice. It seemed like a miracle. And after another delegation, they flooded it one more time during the winter.
Every kid would be out there from early morning until dark on Saturday and Sunday and on week days we started playing hockey right after school. Warm-up for the game was cleaning the snow from the ice with home made pushers. As things progressed, we built a "shack" with a wood stove. We'd all huddle in this primitive little structure and drink ginger ale and act like real hockey pros after a full day's practice session. I can't remember where we got the stove, but it's amazing we didn't burn the whole place down.
I was never a very good skater, so I always ended up playing goal. I would strap "Eaton's" catalogues to my legs with electricians tape and sealer rings - and the odd old pillow as a chest protector. No head or face gear except for a toque. As I remember, I was fearless, and to this day I can show you the indentations in my shins from those encounters.
We would spend hours on this rink, go home exhausted, and be right out there again next morning. We were extremely poor in those days, but in many ways our boyhood was full and rich, and I remember it with great fondness."
Such a good story of one man's boyhood in a Prairie town in the 1940's.
Our boys also played a lot of outdoor hockey when they were young. We lived in a little house close to the school rink, and they would put on their skates at home and walk over to the rink of an evening - play until the lights went out, and sometimes longer. But in their generation, there was the big indoor fancy rink down town, and they would play school hockey there the odd time, or go to the "general skating" on a weekend. They would skate as long as allowed, and show off in front of the girls.
I read in the paper today, that boys hockey in Canada is not # 1 anymore. It's soccer. Very likely this is as much about money and the difficulty of getting on a team as anything else.
But for whatever reason, times they are a-changin'.

know any good jokes?

2011-01-02T19:43:00.000-08:00

Laughter. I miss it. We would laugh so much when we were kids. Big bursts of laughter. Trying to catch your breath laughter. Stopping and then erupting again laughter. Almost weeping laughter. It was always with girlfriends - mostly in a girlfriend's bedroom where we all went for privacy back in those days of tiny little homes. It could start over anything. Something that happened in school or in our own kitchens, or at the store or just talking. Girls are giggly, and anything could set us off. "she started down the hill, and then things went way too fast, and her legs - - - ". Laughter in wave after wave, in glorious eruptions. We'd try to talk again, or add some fresh take on the scene - the laughter would start again and you wouldn't be able to finish. Helpless, uncontrollable laughter, and the best fun ever. Not sure whether "side-splitting" is still used, but it's true. Sometimes, you thought that you would break something inside your body. The most painful sessions would be in the middle of class. Something would set us off, just 2 or 3 good girlfriends with the same sense of humor. Maybe an answer to a question, or a silly face by the classroom clown. Then we'd try to be quiet, and the laughter would become almost a sob. We'd get it under control, and then one of us would turn to look back at the other, and it would start again. The teacher would know exactly what was going on and we would be scolded. It usually ended there. Sometimes something would happen in church, and then we'd have to deal with parents. I still remember running out of the church one time, because I simply could not stop laughing. It was such a high. Boys didn't seem to do it as much, and they would be inclined to look over at us as if we were nuts, with that "I hope they aren't laughing at me" take on it. I remember how good we felt after a laughing fit. Very exhilarated.Very loose.Very energetic.
I don't have a sense of when that kind of sheer hilarity stopped. I remember laughing a lot well into our twenties, but not as much as the years went by. Sad. I said to a friend the other day that I wanted to start a "laughter" file. She sent me something not long after, but it didn't work. Really good laughter has to be spontaneous, I think. It's not something you can book into your week. "Let's see now, I'll book laughter for Friday night. I think that would be a good night to laugh".
I read something last week that started me thinking about the subject.
"Laughing is found to lower blood pressure, reduce stress hormones, increase muscle flexion, and boost immune function by raising levels of infection-fighting T-cells. It triggers the release of endorphins, and produces a general sense of well-being. Hospitals are incorporating formal and informal laughter therapy programs into their therapeutic regimens."
I was watching what could have been one of those programs on YouTube the other day. Mmmmm. I'm not sure how really genuine it looked to me. Seemed there was too much heartiness, too much "put-on" about it, too much trying too hard to make it work.
You can't really make it happen, can you? It's like a special something when you least expect it. You're watching TV for instance. Golf Channel the other day. The golfer takes off shoes and socks and steps into the lake. This is unlikely enough to be funny to start with and then he swings his club real hard and the water floods all over him. The camera zooms into the golf ball sitting in exactly the same spot. It was good for a solid giggle - a "way from the bottom" giggle that is genuine and delightful but doesn't go much further than that. But it felt good.

the empty kitchen

2011-01-01T17:47:00.000-08:00

Our Christmas hostess is a wonderful cook. Not only that, she's gutsy and will take on cooking adventures that would make the rest of us nervous. But she's not the norm. And sometimes, I think that our kitchens are losing out to the food industry.
Look at coffee. We can't compete with coffee in the kitchen any more. Tim Horton's, Starbucks, in fact a lot of service stations will offer a perfect cup of coffee. Their coffee machines just don't make mistakes.
Baking - who bakes? My food store has a dessert department that is a block long! Their cheese cakes alone are astonishing.
This same store has a huge island just for fruit. 2 people do nothing but prepare fruit in all its guises and in all sizes and shapes. Their "made in store" orange juice is spectacular.
Sushi - there's a little counter next to this where hard-working folks are making fresh stuff that I'm increasingly buying and enjoying.
Bread. Who would bake their own bread anymore. Go to any good bakery department. The bread is incredible! We just had a bowl of soup for dinner, and I took an ordinary small loaf of frozen garlic bread out of my freezer. 8 minutes later, we enjoyed delicious hot bread, seasoned just right, buttery and sizzling.
Speaking of soup. For those of us who come from the Campbell's Soup generation - it's a big big world out there now. I love to take a good soup and add to it - chicken, clam juice, niblet corn.
You want a great pot roast? Go to the supermarket. Heat in the oven, succulent with delicious gravy.
You want Yorkshire Pudding to go with it? Buy it frozen and ready for the oven, or buy it in a package, add an egg and some water, voila - golden, crusty, crunchy and waiting for that gravy.
Meat departments have larger and larger "butcher on call" counters. Here again, the choices of meats and fish that you take home and pop in the oven is growing - they are stuffed, and breaded, and sauced, and put on sticks, and so on. And if you want a salmon fillet for dinner, you get to choose exactly which one you want.
Been to a good deli department lately? Watch the traffic. It's endless. Bean salads, ethnic dishes, three kinds of potato salad (when was the last time you had the nerve or the time to make a potato salad?) You want sliced roast beef? well done? medium? rare? Want a roast chicken? Singles tell me they can do three nights of dinners with a roast chicken from the deli.
Pizza? We have a favorite thin dough pizza from the supermarket that is much better than I could make. It's designed perfectly for 2 people, and takes 8 minutes to cook.
We're not talking about feeding a family of five, but in category after category, we are being out-done in the kitchen by store-bought prepared food. Not that long ago, we rejected most of this stuff. It didn't measure up, and there's still lots of rejections out there. But their successes are growing, and will continue to grow.

Shopping

2010-12-19T18:06:00.000-08:00

When he goes shopping, it all seems so easy. He wants a "couple of sweaters, and a couple of shirts, a pair of gloves, and some socks." We wander around the store, he goes into the fitting room, and most everything looks good. We wade through a bunch of gloves, and decide he needs a smaller size, so we find a leather pair in the women's department, and he's thrilled. "These are the best pair of gloves I've had for ages". No wonder. They cost a bundle.

And he's done. We go for lunch.

The next day, I go to look in the ladies wear store in our small town. It's just re-located to a brand new space, and added shoes to it's stock. I have a good time browsing, and chatting off and on with the sales girls. "I haven't bought anything for ages, and I'm out of practice". It's true. I end up buying a scarf.

When I get home, he wants to know what I bought. "Just a scarf?"

"Well, when I'm dressed for cold weather, it's such a nuisance trying stuff on." I change the subject. But I do come home with a plan - of sorts. I'll start with the boots, and work up. There, that feels better.

I've been trying to get something other than golf clothes. But the thought of the panty hose always stopped me - those horrible saran-wrap itchy heat-producing tortures. It's one of the first questions I ask when I go back to the store. The sweet young thing says - "look, try these on and tell me what you think". They seem to be ribbed and somewhat bulky. But when I get them hoisted up and onto my waist, I like them right away. And in all the time of trying stuff on, I never once feel like I'm wearing panty hose. Before I know it, I have a pair of short boots that seem to fit quite fine - and a sort of draped kind of tunic top. I look quite snappy! The sweet young thing thinks I look good too. So I wear the outfit to a party, and get compliments! What a surprise!
Women seem more inclined to wear whatever they feel like wearing, and the fashion mavens be damned. I love seeing what all the stars wear when they go out for an evening and the cameras find them. Have you ever watched a slide show of movie stars after some big event like the Academy Awards? Wow! They can look pretty bad when they put their minds to it!

"Gated community"

2010-12-19T11:38:00.000-08:00

"Imagine living in a place where the weather never changes. I've visited places like that. They may be warm and balmy and sun-filled and all that, but it would be like living in a gated community where everyone wears yellow and is happy all the time."
I stole this quote from an article I read this morning. Her name is Mrs. Sundberg, and she writes a column about living a busy life with family and friends. Lots of wry comments about being human.
A friend said to me once "there are very few places in North America where the weather is pleasant most of the time". He's right. When you think of it, Arizona, California, Texas - the places we think of as kind of "warmish" - they all have their dark sides.
But I suppose that makes the case for the "4 seasons". Canadians are good at living with the 4 seasons, I think. Especially when we're young. When we become seniors, the bloom goes off a bit. Because in Canada, winter is too long. There's always more of winter than the other three.
But back to my quote. The part of the quote that struck a chord with me was the "gated community" part.
I have been in places that felt exactly that way to me - as if I were living in a gated community. Or a video. As if the street contained a cast of characters, and I just happened to become part of it. I'm trying to remember that movie with Jim Carey - where he starred in a TV show and the TV show was actually his life.
There's always something missing. I have a vague feeling of unreality. As if the day were being "programmed" somehow. As if we had all been collected up together and given some sort of script. There's no noise and conflict of business and industry, screeching brakes, the messy buzz of commerce. No feeling of just being part of regular life out there. Getting kids to school, rushing to the Mall, stopping for milk on the way home after work.
"Why would you miss that?" you might ask. You're right. It's strange, isn't it? I don't even like noise, and busy-ness. But I discovered that when it seemed to be missing, I was - unsettled. Go figure.

A little girl at Christmas

2010-12-12T22:19:00.000-08:00

There's something about little girls.

This one has black hair, and eyes with built-in eyeliner. Her hair is longer than when I last saw her, and it looks good.

She's wearing a new coat. Black and a bit puffy. She's like a fashion ad in Vogue.

This place is a sort of Christmas house in the woods. Thousands of Xmas lights all through the forest, and a tea room and play room and music room in the house. They have tea and coffee and scones and sweets. The little girl sits in a highchair and eats and eats. Her Mom always seems to travel with food for her. Watermelon and cheese, crackers and raisins. This Mom can talk to three people at once, including the little girl, and still keep her happy with these little niblets of food. "Watermelon is her favorite - oh - and strawberries - she always eats them until they're pretty well gone".

Her Dad and Mom give her a lot of words, too. She never gets tired of this. She repeats every one of the words, and is very happy doing this. She needs constant diversions - things to look at and talk about and run into and fall out of.

There's music coming from down the hall. Her Mom lifts her up and looks for the music makers. We get a seat right in the front row. A small group of players doing Christmas folk tunes from long ago. recorder types of horns, and small stringed contraptions, and a singer. They're wearing funny looking hats. And suddenly, the little girl becomes still. Is it because we're so close? She doesn't look around a lot - perhaps it's the sounds of the horns and this tiny violin - she sits quietly. For 20 whole minutes, she's still.

"You're kidding", says her Dad when we return.

I'm outta here!

2010-11-25T19:17:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-22T19:34:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-11-19T11:40:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-14T17:53:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-10T19:55:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-07T13:02:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-03T18:29:00.000-07:00

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 -

2010-11-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

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.

I know a little bit about a lot of things . . . .

2010-08-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

It started with a John Updike short story. John is a very famous American writer who died last year. He wrote many things for the New Yorker magazine - one category being short stories.
I was thinking of him today, and went to the New Yorker web site. I came upon an audio file of a reader doing one of Updike's short stories. The download said it would take 32 minutes. I suppose 32 minutes could be considered short by many of us - but perhaps long as well.
The story sounded good - a lot of rather long words not usually heard in ordinary conversation - which kind of surprised me. But, this is John Updike - right? I mean, he's revered. He's done many many kinds of writing - all of them to rave reviews. So what do I know.
After a few minutes, I got an idea for this blog - and left the audio just like that! It didn't hold me at all!
Another illustration. A web site I like - "Speaking of Faith" - about all kinds of faith passions that people have, some of them spiritual, all of them deep. The moderator of the web site is a fascinating and very clever lady. She writes a short 'overview' of her guest, their subject matter and what the message is. The rest of the links to this guest's appearance on the web site are quite long inserts and require good attention.
I never seem to be able to read or listen to these longer items. I used to be able to. And I think I can still do this, but I have to be in the right mood or situation.
I've read various things lately that internet browsing, Facebook, Twitter - Blogs - all of them being "short" kinds of items - this kind of contemplation has slowly cut down the time we seem to be able to concentrate on a topic. We waver, we go wobbly, we skip over to check e-mail, thinking we'll return to the article, but we don't.
I have always said that I want to "know a little bit about a lot of things" but not a lot about them. And that's true. But does that make me a perfect candidate for the attention span problem? Or does anybody fall into it?
I think it's a little bit of both. Long before the internet, I was a "magazine" reader - a newspaper reader - never read a lot of books, or read them half way and quit. So when I became fascinated by the computer, I was the ideal candidate for it. Skipping here there and everywhere suited me very well.
But I think there is some merit in the theory - that computers have "shortened" our attention span - that we've become "twittered" and "facebooked" and "blogged" into needing more and more "headlines" and less and less of what comes after.
What do you think?

The Boardwalk

2010-07-20T18:05:00.000-07:00

They landed in town in July. Spent the summer playing a lot of golf. Finally bought a little townhouse on a street close to the downtown and 7 minutes from the ocean beach. She loved to walk along the beach. For dedicated walkers, there was an asphalt sidewalk, but it wasn't very long and when it ended, gravel.

When the cold and rains came in the fall, they headed south.

Back again in the spring, she was thrilled to find a huge new boardwalk along the ocean! It went from the old walkway, past the playground and in front of the town's big hotel. They'd eaten at the hotel and the food was good, but often they were the only ones there. "Whoever owns that place must have deep pockets" they said to their neighbors one day. "The oceanside suites might be sold, but a lot of it looks empty to us." And the little mall built on the street side was empty too.
The boardwalk was an instant hit with the locals. Serious walkers would be there every day with smiles and nods in the passing. Moms walked babies. Wheelchairs glided along smoothly. Canes, walkers. And dogs everywhere! Seemed everyone walked a dog! And picked up after them. In fact, the whole beach was remarkably clean - a testament to how important it was to them.
When summer finally arrived, and the sun shone more warmly, the change was dramatic. The big hotel filled up, the outdoor patio buzzed with families, seniors and everything in between. "Wow, there was a lineup tonight! People were waiting for outside tables" she reported from her walk."And you should hear the tourists talk - I passed three groups and heard three different languages - no, I don't know what they were!" When it got seriously warm, there were people on the hotel decks, on the lawns outside their rooms, on the boardwalk. One Sunday a disc jockey played everything from Diana Krall to Johnny Cash. It was very loud, and they hoped it wasn't going to become a habit.
One weekend there were three weddings! Right on the beach - a little bower, white lawn chairs. Guests looking out of place in "dress-up" outfits. Ever seen a woman trying to cross a stretch of ocean beach wearing high heels?
Kites. Not little kids and kites. These were macho looking men doing "fighter plane" dives and twists - a manipulator in each hand. At the Kite Festival they can't find a place to park for blocks.
The town also seems to be the volleyball capital of oceanside. Weekends with 20 volleyball courts going non-stop. Knowing nothing about the sport, they can't tell whether they were good or not. Seemed like there was more girl/boy watching than volleyball.
At any ocean beach - high tide or low, sunshine or not, people seem drawn to the water and sand. Sand castles, sea shells, splashing, beach balls, and kids running every which way in sheer delight.
For her, it was the majesty of the ocean itself. No matter how many times she turned that corner, she could feel it's power. They often talked about it. He's a pilot. He tells her that the question is often discussed amongst fliers and boaters. Which is the most forgiving? The ocean or the sky? In storms and bad weather - which is the most vulnerable - the plane or the boat?
He is still quite ill, but today they hold hands and walk a bit along the boardwalk. Then sit in the sun feeling soothed by the blue blue sea.

Waffles?

2010-07-17T10:04:00.000-07:00

"I'm in a renewal phase" he says. "Made some changes and just fine-tuning them." He's very thin. Says he weighs 125 pounds. At least he was small to begin with. His walk is faltering. But again, he's always had a bad ankle and never been a walker. His speech is a bit tentative. She finds herself intervening in his phone calls. "He's just having a nap. Oh here he is. Now don't talk for too long." "New dentures?" said the dentist. "It's just that there's no bone here - there's no place for the bottom teeth to sit". The dentures had not been taken out of his mouth for all his time in the hospital, and sores have developed. They hurt. But he's hungry. "It's a trade-off. I have to eat. So I suffer." Sitting is uncomfortable. She jokes to her girlfriend. "I swear he has no butt at all! We've simply got to fatten him up". She's right. No matter how padded or cushioned the seat, he squirms and twists, trying to find some way to sit more comfortably.
So there's grumbling, and impatience. "Don't be impatient" says the home care nurse, "you are doing everything correctly. So let things develop as they will. You'll be surprised at how quickly you will forget this part of your life". He's not impressed with this take on things.
She's astonished at what he eats. Waffles! He hates waffles and now he loves them. Fruit! He's never shown the slightest interest in fruit. Pasta. "Are we having that pasta 'alfredo' that we had last night? I really love that stuff". Strange, very strange. But here's the kicker. Coffee, scotch, beer, and red wine? NO interest. This worries her the most of all.

two boiled eggs

2010-07-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

"What I'd like is 2 boiled eggs with 2 slices of dry toast, one plain and one with peanut butter" - pause - "oh, well, I guess I don't need the one with peanut butter." (I wished I hadn't asked)
Hmmm. Seems to me the last time I boiled 2 eggs was in the winter of 1963.
And this guy isn't in the mood for mistakes. So far my list includes "not enough salt" "too cold" "too hot" "too dry" and "completely tasteless" so I am nervous.
I don't even have a pot. We only have one small pot and it's in the frig with leftover stew.
With the lightening thinking for which I have become known, I reach for my heavy duty"$250" fry pan and put some water in it.
Get well-chilled eggs out of frig, and hold them in my hands thinking "please warm up quickly".
Get the lid of my hardly-ever-used-because-it's-too-big "Le Creuset" pot and put it on the fry pan. Fits perfectly! The gods are trying to help me.
Patient clears his throat, and asks "How's it goin'?"
"Just fine", I shout, noting that his hearing aids are parked on the table beside him. I see a "how to do the perfect chip shot" just starting on the Golf Channel.
I decide I better not stress the gods, so I set my timer to 4 minutes exactly. Very gently and with words of encouragement, I slowly lower each egg into the boiling water. To my great glee, they hold firm and quietly genuflecting, I lower the lid.
I put a little butter in the coffee mug I have chosen for this delicacy, have the pepper and salt at the ready. Put in the toast.
As soon as the buzzer sounds I have that first baby outta there. Clumsily open it up to find a perfectly boiled egg!!!! I am a happy cat! Quickly empty it into the mug. Not missing a beat, like any trained athlete, I clamp the other egg, behead it and it also is perfect. If you're making notes here as I'm sure you are - these are size medium eggs. (they are still there - way at the back in cartons that look like the ones they meant to throw out).
With triumph, I present breakfast to the sick one, and watch quietly as he eats every spoonful.
He will usually make noises of approval if he likes the taste of the first couple of bites, but all is quiet. Still filled with the thrill of my perfectly boiled eggs, this doesn't bother me one bit.
Ignoring the cluttered counter top, I start the coffee, put my waffle in the toaster and slice my banana.
The perfect chip shot is over, the commercial is starting.
Just as I start my breakfast, he says "What are we having for lunch?"

Bird Bath

2010-07-05T11:20:00.000-07:00

The robin is the cleanest.

Always first at the bird bath

On the edge, he checks everything -

traffic, cleanliness, desire.

birds are quick, very quick.

tentative flicks become whooshes

water flying everywhere more and more whooshes

Now the head dip followed by the whoosh

Two more times for good measure -

Then up to the fence. Shakes off the last drops.

Gone.

A little bird appears. Nervous. In then out. In then out.

Tries a little whoosh. Another.

No style at all.

in sickness as in health -

2010-06-23T20:34:00.000-07:00

In sickness as in health, he's my "high-maintenance" boy.
Always with his long list of "to-do's", checking, checking, checking.
As if life were a training course, as if there were going to be a test.
Leaving a room, leaving a town, leaving a country, it didn't matter.
Checking the doors, checking the phone bill, checking the will and testament.
And so to this. Knows where this hose leads, where that cord has to go.
Which one is the epidural, which the catheter, which the bag, which the food.
How to get the hoses through the sleeve of the robe, the power cord wound and clipped.
All for the 7 minute walk down the hall, dodging patients just arriving from surgery,
the young cleaning guy who gives me my crossword puzzle answer -
It's "Dan" - oh yah, he was with the Miami Dolphins - a great QuarterBack,
Our "be right back" evening nurse, the meal cart piled high with inedibles.
I know he's already checking his "to-do" list for re-entry -
to the hospital bed that never sleeps.

2010-06-21T22:28:00.000-07:00

Hospitals are not interested in the internet. When you enter them, you leave the world of computers behind. You don't see them in any of the wards. Patients have to leave their computers at home.

Television? Yes, you ask for a bed with a TV, then the TV lady comes around, and you sign on the dotted line. (what year is this? Hello!)

But computers? No.

It makes you realize where you sit on the "computer reliance" scale.

If you are at a certain number on that scale, it really hits home - about your need for the internet. The web sites, the blogs, the Globe and Mail, the New York Times, American Public Radio web sites, and your son's radio station where you can listen to him on the air whenever you want, no matter where you are. Touching base with your grandchildren on Facebook every day, reading their posts, looking at their pictures. Watching your youngest grandchild learning how to walk. The email. All your family and friends - Your brother's heart problems, the important updates - I mean this is your life, right? This is really what your life has become. If we can't get the internet, we're out . You can't 'go back' after having your personal world and the rest of the world at your fingertips with the click of a key.

nice nothing

2010-06-19T10:46:00.000-07:00

I get a real "high" from a good crossword puzzle.
We're driving in the car to the mall. "nice nothing" I say to Merv. "Anything come to mind? I think it starts with an 'r'".
"Rice? Nice Rice? Mind you, I don't even like rice. And what do they mean by the nothing thing" he says.
After major Rectal Cancer Surgery, he's lying in his hospital bed and I try again.
"You know, it seems to be an 'ri' - what do you think?" Silence.
His favorite nurse "Sam" comes in to change his dressing. It's like a video. We see the stoma and the incision and the staples - she cleans it and measures the stoma to make sure she has the right size for the opening, and I'm so impressed with her prowess. Merv is all smiles. He's always talking about Sam. "Where did you train?" he asks. "Did you ever want to be an operating nurse?"
"Not really. Not enough responsibility. Here on this busy ward, I have to do everything. I love all the rushing about."
As she's picking up her stuff to leave, I say "Do you know anything about astrology? Would Leo be something to do with August?
"Oh, yah! That's mine. I was born in August. And you were talking earlier about that fish? That's "Nemo" for sure."
"Isn't she just something else!" Merv says?
We were having a desk delivered a couple of weeks ago. I was stuck with an animal who was the cousin of some animal I'd never heard of. The delivery guy says "You got any letters? Ends in er? That would be 'badger' - for sure. I happen to know that for sure".
Can you believe it? He was dead right. And he was so good-looking, this kid.
Anyway, back to nice nothing.
I look at the 'down' word. Hmmmmm. Looks like it has to be another vowel after 'i' ! That's doesn't sound right.
And yet ! ! ! And yet ! ! !
"nice nothing"
"That's it! I've got it! It's NEECE! As in France! Nice, France. They want the french word for 'nothing'. rien! That's it - rien
What could be more fun than coming up with this word?
I'm thrilled. Talking a bit loudly. I know that the other guys in the room don't have the faintest idea what I'm talking about. I don't care.
Later on, I'm cleaning Merv's dentures and I come out of the little bathroom. The 90 year old guy says "How come you knew that french word ?"
"I don't know. It just came to me. Like lightening. It just came to me".

The sailors are in Victoria!

2010-06-11T16:23:00.000-07:00

The city of Victoria is busy.
Traffic is heavy. And nervy. A little old lady suddenly swerves over 2 lanes to get where she wants to go. And we're right behind her. Merv swears.
"She's just a little old lady. Don't swear at her!"
"You're a little old lady, too!" he laughs. (I admire her hutzpah.)
If you ask the GPS in your car to give you a list of golf courses 'close by' you have 20 choices within 5K. But try to find a golf shop. We find one Nevada Bob's. Then we find a Golf Town in Langford which is just outside of Victoria. I get a jacket and pair of pants on sale.
Victoria is one of Canada's favorite cities. The ocean, the wharfs, the Empress Hotel, the Parliament Buildings all in such a dramatic setting.
The spring plants are bursting with flowers and fresh green sprouts. The green vines on the Empress Hotel are really getting deep and solid. Merv loves the look.
We re-visited a golf course to check out the back nine. We knew from being here in the summer last year that they were working on this. We golf with a great couple. He's a "navy" type. Was based in Esquimalt and they're for the weekend. It's such a great golf course! - sweeping fairways and water falls and dramatic views on the tee boxes. And not a house in sight. We'll come back again and again to this awesome beauty. Price be damned. Highland Green.
The town is filling with sailors just like Harvey, our golf partner. A huge international Naval gathering to celebrate the 100th year of the Naval Base at Esquimalt, B.C.. Every day there are more and more sailors. Three were in our elevator this morning. On our way home we find out there's a huge fireworks show on tonight. Oh well, we hope it goes well. We'll be back in Victoria another time. And another time after that.

Oh, say can you see . . . . .

2010-05-31T11:00:00.001-07:00

Americans are delightfully "showy" people. They sing and dance and speak into microphones at the drop of a hat. Their Memorial Day celebrations illustrate this to a T. This is the day they remember their fallen - no matter what battle or how long ago. We watched last night and enjoyed it. Filled with emotion the audience often wiped away their tears, and we also wiped away our tears - crying for soldiers everywhere in the world.
They had the young wife - 19 years old, husband killed in Afghanistan. Then move to an older woman whose husband died in Vietnam more than 50 years ago. Their stories are heartbreaking. At the end, they approach each other and hug.
In true American fashion, stars of famous TV shows are the hosts. But these guys have been carefully chosen. Not smooth. Not light. Not pedantic. Just right.
The Airforce, the Navy, the Army, the Marines - each come out dramatically with their own marching song. We sing along with the audience just as if we'd been singing them all our lives! I'm sure they come from Hollywood war movies!
Towards the end, 2 actors depict soldiers. It's a story about how "Charlie" was always looking out for his whole platoon, putting his own life at risk over and over again to keep his buddies from certain death. He is hit by an enemy bullet at the end and dies. Veterans in the audience are crying. It's very emotional. The actors approach this group afterwards, and there are hugs and handshakes and shoulder squeezes.
No one does this like Americans. No one can lift this stuff off the page, out of the records, out of the "armistice" word, and make it hurt, make it okay to cry, make us feel somehow "better" after - more human. Maybe it's schmaltzy, maybe it's theatre, maybe it's strutting, but it's what Americans are about. A perfect example of why the people of this country 'cheerlead' their nation - get their "blowhard" label - make us choose a table on the other side of the restaurant. But don't sneer too loudly. This country will fight to the death over and over again for "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness". And I ask you - what other country on the face of the planet has the hutzpah to use "the pursuit of happiness" as one of their 'declarations'.
Canada takes the United States of America for granted. Just because it's the country everyone loves to hate doesn't mean we should. In Canada, we stand for "peace, order, and good government" - ah yes, bring on more "order". Bring on more "good government". They are such "uplifting" goals, aren't they? Come on! Where is the passion? Where is the fire? Where is the spirit? Okay, okay, I agree that our neighbors could use less of it. But by golly folks, we can sure use more of it.

Tongue lashing

2010-05-28T10:32:00.001-07:00

The annual summer Sports Day in our town
Three schools determined to win the cup.
Furtive looks at the score board. We hardly ever won.
Races were my favorite - though small - I could run real fast.
One year in the broad jump competition I landed somehow wrong,
and bit my tongue. It split apart, blood filling my mouth.
I tried to hide it. But everyone came running.
Kids gagged when I spit the blood out.
Teachers looked stricken and reached for handkerchiefs.
What could anyone do? Put a band aid on it?
I was sent home.
My tongue swelled and I talked real funny.
For a week, I'd stick out my tongue to show the ugly cut.
Then nobody cared anymore. It took 5 years for the scar to go away.

Games People Play

2010-05-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

Crossword Puzzles.

The Globe and Mail has a great Saturday crossword puzzle on the computer, but you have to pay for it. So I usually head for our little corner store first thing Saturday and buy the Saturday G&B. Sometimes they're sold out, and sometimes they have 20 of them. They charge 50 cents less than the service station across the street. The puzzle is carefully cut out to the right size, clamped to my clipboard and with a real pencil (eraser on the end, for sure) I happily muddle away with this for the rest of the week be it in the bathroom, bedroom or car. But this is the only crossword I do on paper. Computer crossword puzzles are just as much fun. Skill levels are "master" and "regular". With "master" you're on your own. With "regular" your mistakes are colored, so you know immediately that you have to find another word. I usually choose "master" - just to add a handicap. The fun part comes at the end. I switch from master to regular and see how many colored letters appear. If there's only 2 or 3 colored letters, I'm happy. "For an old lady - not bad at all!" I say out loud to my invisible audience as they applaud.

Bridge.

I play it for real once a year when my sisters and I get together for our annual visit - two of them play bridge all the time at various ladies bridge clubs, so they're really good. My younger sister is like me - plays just this one time a year. But we hold our own, enjoy our glass of wine, laugh and have a good time. On the computer, I play with funny looking avatar partners and turn off the sound so I don't have to listen to their silly comments. They never make mistakes, though, so I try to keep out of trouble. The odd time, I'll bid 6 spades and if I pull it off, I'm ecstatic. As far as adding to your skill at a game, I would say computer bridge is at the top.

Mind Games.

The New York Times has mind games: - Improve the health and function of your brain", it says, "with the right mental workouts." Having concentration problems playing piano, I think "Ah Ha!" - this will fix me up. No change so far, but these little workouts really do force you to pay attention. I have just discovered these, so how often I'm back there remains to be seen. My gut feeling is that I will like this.

Jigsaw Puzzles
Got a Frank Lloyd Wright puzzle for Xmas. Glass art design. Frank wintered in Phoenix for years. Last month while we were there, we visited his home and were told that his glass wall is part of the hotel lobby just down the street. It takes up a whole wall! Fascinating to see the real thing after looking at the picture on the box. Spread out on a table upstairs, it's already being put together. Good solid puzzle with very bright colors. Difficulty? I'd say about medium. Something interesting. I can listen to podcasts on my computer and work on the jigsaw with equal concentration. They are obviously in completely differing parts of the brain. The brain waves never cross each other's paths. I have decided to have a jigsaw puzzle on the go always. Very satisfying.

Scrabble.

The only frustrating thing is that the computer has access to an astounding dictionary. They can beat you with a word you're never seen before. But this works both ways. I can't tell you how often I have tried the most unlikely word, and like a miracle, the computer tells you it is a word! Sometimes I even get big points for my weird looking word. I tell the story to anyone who will listen. My granddaughter is an amazing Scrabble player. She posts her high scores on Facebook, and I'm going to start doing that too.

When I'm sleeping badly, I reach for my computer. Immediately, my frustration and discomfort disappear. I get busy with a game and within the hour, I'm back to sleep.

Hole #1

2010-05-17T13:34:00.000-07:00

We've only belonged to one golf course. Part of a small town community, the Innisfail Golf course had been "bequeathed" to the town by a long ago doctor who loved the game. Legend has it that sheep grazed on the 2nd, 9th and 15th fairways - the golfers just playing through them, and probably hitting the odd one here and there, I'm sure.
A horse drawn mower sits on display - says on it that the machine was used in 1925 to cut the grass on the fairways. The course goes back to that date, and is run by the town of Innisfail. The benefactor stipulated that it was not to be considered a "for profit" venture, all monies were to go back into it's upkeep. As a result, it's considered one of the best courses in Central Alberta. Calgarians in particular often make the trip to play 18 holes whenever they get the chance. We would play with guys that were attending some conference or other, and their round of golf was the very best thing about their visit.
5 years ago, the course expanded to 27 holes and as part of the official opening, the old tee signs were auctioned off. Merv bid on the Hole number 1 sign and ended up getting it for $300. From a post on our farm in Alberta, we carried it into our new life. Pictured on our little townhouse patio fence, you can see that it's still enjoying the recognition it should. "Well now" visitors say "where did you get that neat sign?"

Two Young Girls at the Piano

2010-05-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

My favorite Renoir painting is "Two Young Girls at the Piano". It's part of my Internet album from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've never replaced it since I started the album many years ago. A neat thing about the web site is that you can enlarge the paintings and peer closely at a pleat in a dress, or a special looking slipper or the red tulips in field.
One day I had an "Ah Ha!" moment. I would do my own version of "Two Young Girls at the Piano"!
I just happened to have the 2 young girls and I just happened to have the piano.
The young girls were my granddaughters. Robyn in the pink shirt. And Amy at the keyboard. These two also happen to be real musicians. Amy is an accomplished pianist, and Robyn an accomplished bassoonist! So you can see why this whole scenario seemed like a picture just waiting to happen. They were younger then, and still willing to go along with another one of Grandma's weird ideas. I emailed them the picture, explained the plan and they sent "It's good for me, Grandma. It'll be fun".
We were planning a baseball weekend, and both families were expected, so I decided it was now or never. When the baseball was done and before they disappeared for one of their talk and talk and talk sessions, I said "okay girls - take your places. Let's get the show on the road!"
I had printed the Renoir so they could literally study it and position themselves as closely to the original as possible. We took several takes and tried different chairs, different objects on the piano. We stared and stared at the attempts, and everyone had their own ideas as to how to improve the picture. When I left the scene, they continued fooling around at the piano for an hour before heading to a corner where the bothersome boys wouldn't find them.
I made Robyn and Amy photo books, and I included the shot you see here.
In 1892 Renoir billed his painting as an "intimate and engaging scene of bourgeois domestic life." And you know what? I'm completely okay with that.

Georgia

2010-05-06T15:11:00.000-07:00

Georgia O'Keefe

Many years ago, I started my own little "museum" - works of art that I liked. This was one of them.
Through the miracle of the internet, I was able to look through the massive collections at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and pick 50 works of art. I've had this collection for 20 years, and I still visit it occasionally - throw out some stuff and put in other stuff.
Photography has always been a favorite. This photograph was taken by Georgia O'Keefe's husband, Alfred Steiglitz, a 'pioneer' photographer. They must have been quite the pair, because she was an artist, and did some pretty weird stuff that everyone oh'd and ah'd about.
But those hands! Look at those beautiful hands. Here's what she said about this picture that her husband took:
"My hands had always been admired since I was a little girl. But I never thought much about it. He wanted head and hands and arms in many different positions. Steiglitz had a very sharp eye about what he wanted to say with the camera. When I look over the photographs that he took of me - some of them more than 60 years ago I wonder who that person is . It is as if in one life, I have lived many lives."
They loved New Mexico and lived in Santa Fe for many years.
She died in 1986 at the age of 98.

2010-05-03T20:22:00.000-07:00

1975

"I always hated this picture" he says "I had such a bad cold that day".
It was a brand new house with one of those sunken living rooms that were so popular back then. We were well established in our new community, had been living in the old part of town for a couple of years, renting a house, and had finally decided to take the plunge and buy a fancy house in an upscale neighborhood.
The photographer gave us a deal.
It was a real effort to get the kids all home at the same time and in some sort of looking good mode. We hated that dog. He was completely spaced out. Ran wildly all over and drove us nuts. We eventually got rid of it. I still remember the lady driving away with him in her car. I felt sorry for her.
We ended up hanging the picture in the dining room.
We didn't live in the house for long before we knew we'd made a huge mistake. The shower in an upstairs bathroom spewed water down the walls. Weird smells in the closets. Carpet coming loose all over the place. The owner belonged to some sort of sect where you were always supposed to have a year's supply of food. He left a full freezer in the basement. Does anyone else have a story like this? I doubt it.
We were lucky that the economy was good and we made money on the re-sale. After that, we refused to look at any house that was "custom built".

"Wiley Willie"

2010-05-02T18:43:00.000-07:00

We meet on the 12th hole. I am looking for my ball, notice this movement to my left and there he is. He scares the daylights out of me! And he's just a little bird.
I freeze. He doesn't move. His eyes say "What the hell are you doing here?"
I look for Merv - wanting him to see this. Too far away. And the party behind us has driven and are heading down the fairway. I have to get moving.
I take 2 steps forward. He doesn't move.
I rummage in my pocket for the camera. Try another step forward. He still doesn't move! This is some brave wee owl. And look at him. He looks fierce! Positively fierce. He's defending his home to the death and he's not going anywhere.

I finally spot my ball - and luckily not in his way. I have to get going, so I shoot quickly, and look back. He's gone.

Mrs. Johnson

2010-04-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

The one I remember the most

was my piano teacher Mrs. Johnson.

She taught grade six at our school.

My piano lesson on Saturday morning

seemed her most favorite thing

as if she'd waited for it all week long

that was how special she was.

Music was her first love and it became ours

because of her. Essie Johnson.

Every kid wanted to be first in line

when she called us to order.

When they ask "your favorite teacher"

as the confirmation identity question,

on computer stuff?

I always use her.

Before and after

2010-04-20T18:03:00.000-07:00

BEFORE

"Look at that mess next door!"

I was standing upstairs looking out my bedroom window. It was a war zone. When we bought our place here, there was a big billboard next door advertising a fancy new development. Now, some months since, it has occurred to us that the billboard is gone and there is no construction. Just a big empty lot filled with construction debris. We hear that the company is in trouble.
At the street end, a huge trailer with bloody red graffiti. And at the window where we stand, piles and piles of lumber, roles of construction mats coming apart. The graphic yellow of a dirty "detour" sign. The ugly orange of drainage pipes. A dirty board with BEER in red ink. A mess.
Merv takes pictures and goes to City Hall. He knows there's a by-law about littering. The girl at City Hall looks at the pictures. "You have to look at that? I think you can count on something happening".
She's right.
In a week, a company truck arrives. He paces about looking things over. Then another truck arrives.
A huge arm picks up piles of lumber and carefully places them in the first truck. Merv is thrilled with this. "It's all digital. He's telling the arm what to do with that little box! Hey, they'll be finished in no time".
He's forgotten about "island time". People who tell you about "island time" do it with a knowing smile. Sure enough, after one load, they're gone for the day.
Next day a whole new cast. For an hour, three young men form organized piles of wood with energy and enthusiasm. Then they too disappear. In the afternoon the company truck arrives again with a different group of workers. These guys just pick up stuff with their bare hands and throw it into the truck. No fancy black box and dramatic lifting arm. There's a lot of smoking and sharing of cigarettes. We're not sure they should be driving.
Third day. Company truck again with older guy in company T-shirt. They re-locate a big pale blue barrel (obviously a heavy one) against the neighbor's fence right across from our window. They pile
miscellaneous lumber close to the barrel. We know they have washed their hands of these items. The barrel bothers us most.
Half an hour later, a big big Home Hardware truck with one of the big loader arms! We rush with our coffee to stand at the window and watch. It's a good show. The last of the big heavy blocs of lumber are loaded and tied down. Halfway through this process, another huge truck. "Island Towing". He's here to get the huge trailer with the red graffiti. Slowly and with dignity, the trailer slides upwards, upwards on to the truck bed. It's belted in 4 places, and before we know it, it's gone. The job is done.

AFTER

Epilogue. There's still small debris. But it's better. A lot better.
Our realtor is impressed. The owner of the townhouse development is impressed. He shakes Merv's hand and invites him immediately into the strata committee.
Merv is still grumbling. "I'm going back to City Hall. That blue barrel has to go".

Spring

2010-04-15T20:03:00.000-07:00

“symbiosis”
by Dorothee Lang

in between tulip bulbs
the question:
am i growing this garden
or is this garden
growing me?

Cosmetics

2010-04-11T17:26:00.000-07:00

The cosmetic line was called "Concept Now".
My girlfriend Donna was using this stuff, and she was gorgeous. She made sure I was one of her first customers. It was pretty expensive. Being newly married, we didn't have a lot of money.
Donna organized a "Concept Now" party at her house. These parties were always wild. No one can do "girl talk" as well as a roomful of 20-somethings having a few drinks .
It was a good product. Always keen on skin care, I used the creams and cleansers religiously. I wasn't much for makeup, but Donna insisted that I get their "blush" product. It was a wonderful copper-y color with a bit of a glint. Sprinkle some on a tissue, rub the brush into it and it lasted for 3 or 4 weeks. Pick up the brush and apply gently. I loved it right from the first moment.
I stayed with the "Concept Now" line for many years. Then Donna left town, and I discovered Shiseido. But she was right about the "blush". I still remember us looking at that little bottle 50 years ago and her saying "Wow, there's a lot of powder in there! You'll be long gone before this little bottle is empty!"
I don't where Donna is today, but her "Concept Now" blush is still alive and well. In fact I held the bottle up to the light this morning just as she and I did 50 years ago, and it looks as if there is still a third of the bottle left!
Does is sound weird to think of this little bottle as a friend? I don't think so.

Feeding Babies

2010-04-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

I breast fed all my babies.
Strangely enough, 50 years ago, it was a struggle. Feeding babies with bottles was the "new" thing. And it seemed a bit scary to me. There were complicated "formula"s that had to be very carefully put together. And strict procedures for sterilizing the bottles. I felt threatened by all this. Had vision of pots of boiling water, and spilled milk on the floor and counters. Baby crying off in the distance waiting for food. I can't remember what the rationale was. I can't remember what the procedure was for the breasts filling with unwanted milk. But you can take my word for it. This was the big deal. Your baby was going to be a lot healthier with this new system. Nurses would come in and ask if you needed help getting started. They were ready with pamphlets and typed info sheets from the public health office. When I think back on it - it's yet another example of how we swallow new ideas only to find later that they are flawed.
I didn't talk about it much. I felt old-fashioned. I felt I was letting my baby down, that he wasn't going to be fed nearly as well as he should be. I hesitantly asked girl friends about their experience making the formula. They sounded up-beat and efficient. "You're breast-feeding? How come?" My confidence crumbled further.
As I recall, the "formula" method of feeding the baby lasted for quite awhile. If there were strong supporters of breast feeding still around, they were being ignored. In fact, mothers in far off third world countries were also doing this! Can you imagine how difficult it would have been to sterilize bottles and make this formula in that heat! It's strange how we think that we know more than the human body knows. After all, it has been fine-tuning itself for 4 million years.
After some 20 years of the "formula in a bottle" way of feeding babies, breast feeding became popular again and baby bottles appeared less and less often.
I stopped asking about it and breast fed all my babies in complete comfort and love. It's one of the great things about being a Mom.

Front Row

2010-03-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

A golf tournament at the Dominican Republic. The grooming and greening of the golf course is awesome. After a cold, wet and windy round of golf in 'beautiful Vancouver Island' I stare in wonder at the almost astounding view of the Carribbean Ocean lapping on the shores of the fairways. Everyone in shirt sleeves - their $300 sunglasses making the perfect statement about priviledge. I want to be on that golf course.

Freddie Couples is leading. I'm glad about this because I've always been a Freddie Couples fan. And he looks good. Trimmer than he's been. Tanned and just as loose and easy as always. His long long drives that loop so gracefully up and back. In slow motion we "oh" and "ah" at the perfection. Sand shots look so easy when these guys do them - just pop those babies up right next to the pin! And the putting, the slow, quiet, smooth putts. This is where the game is won and lost. You can louse up your long shots big time, but if you have a decent short game, you'll always come out pretty good. If you have a dynamite short game, you can win a tournament.

Live television is the best television. I snuggle down in my easy chair, and smile in envy as Freddie does his thing. I don't have to buy a ticket, and I get the best seat in the house.

And my guy wins! Freddie Couples wins.

Colonoscopy

2010-03-26T18:28:00.000-07:00

I saw an item on TV

a guy was on a stretcher thing in a hospital corridor
He had just had a colonoscopy and
the tv camera was there to hear what he had to say about it

we even saw the inside of his colon
as if we were walking down a hallway
in a very clean well lit cave

"I feel great" he laughed, talking with the tv reporters
How many people would show their colon to the world

This long long tube that turns corners.

American Farewell

2010-03-15T19:10:00.000-07:00

Before leaving Pasadena, and because it's the day of the Oscars, we drive right into the heart of the Academy Awards! It's astonishing how far we get before the traffic sends us away. We get a shot of the famous Kodak Theatre where it all happens. This guy has seen it all, though, and he's not impressed.

The weather is sunny so we head for the ocean and the Coastal highway - the famous 101. Life is good. We "oh" and "ah" at every dramatic ocean view. And then - trouble - we discover there's been a rock slide up ahead. We wait 2 hours before we can continue through to Monterey.

Next day, the hills of California and Oregon are simply gorgeous - deeply covered in the bright bright green of spring.

We take our little sporty convertible over the Golden Gate bridge because that's what sporty convertibles are designed to do.

Out in the country they "Adopt Highways". The signs are everywhere. It's the way they keep their highways clean and neat. (I believe Canada has a similar program in the Maritimes.) We are impressed. I guess anyone can do it. "The Shelton Yacht Club" said one sign. "Pacific High School" "B & B Farm Supply" (we came upon the little business right on the main street) "Union Spring Pacific Water" "Jensen Blueberries".

My notes say that California and Oregon have a lot of the following:

1) prisons 2) police cars, 3) Native Reserves with fancy casinos.

We spent 4 months in the United States. At no time did we feel put upon, disrespected, disregarded, or uncomfortable. Everyone we met was considerate, polite, and friendly.

We are impressed with this.

"...in half a mile, right turn..."

2010-03-12T10:14:00.000-08:00

We got a new car and it came with GPS. What a treasure!

It has taken us to golf courses we would never have golfed, to hotels we would never have considered, to beers we never knew existed, to freeways we would never have attempted.

But most of all, it has always taken us back home. Most of all, no matter how far afield we roamed, no matter if it rained, or got dark, we knew with certainty that we would get back home.

We haven't given her a name. She remains "she". A somewhat neutral voice.

"Please go to the starting point, and the route guidance will begin" "go a quarter of a mile to Orchard Drive, and turn right" "make a slight left turn onto Arizona 101" "in half of a mile, your destination is on the right".

She does not require perfection. We have been in some wild freeways in the middle of large cities, and missed a lane change. With complete coolness, she has quietly and quickly found a way to put us back on track.

You know how guys hate to ask directions? How they want to be in complete control? She understands this kind of guy. She even goes along with him if he insists! And she doesn't laugh when he's proven wrong. We just find ourselves on the right road and nothing more is said.

If we're in the mood for a lazy out of the way road trip, she'll take us high up in a wooded hill where we wheel around rickety roads and surprise the goats and chickens. She'll stay away from freeways and take us through small town neighborhoods. If we want suggestions for an afternoon's outing, we ask the GPS. If we have only the first three letters of some place that was suggested to us, the GPS knows exactly what we're looking for.

If we need gas, or lunch, or shopping, the screen tells us where they are, what exits to take, how far away.

We talk to her. We make fun of her. We imitate her pronunciation and laugh. Sometimes it seems as if the system has a library of "sounds" and it uses this library to "form" the name of the street.

We don't care. Life has never been sweeter.

"Where were you when we won Gold?"

2010-03-05T19:06:00.000-08:00

We watched the last part of the big hockey game in a very huge, noisy bar in Tempe, Arizona. My sister and husband needed to be picked up at the Airport right when the game was being played. They watched part of it on the plane. We listened to part of it on the radio in the car.

As we waited for the luggage to come down I kept running back to Merv in the parked car to see if the score had changed. Then we discovered that another guy who was waiting at the luggage carousel was checking at home for the score, and he kept us up to date.

When we finally got on the road, we decided to go for a beer. We picked the most popular place in Tempe - huge and always packed and never a place to park. The game was near the end so we sat in the car and counted down the seconds. When the U.S. scored, we thought we would die!!!!! No! NO! No!

We decided we would watch overtime on TV in the bar. The place was packed but we got a table at the back with a huge TV. They must of had 25 TV's in there. We had been here before. We loved their beer. And when the perky waitress arrived I asked "Was there a huge cheer when the U.S. scored?" "Big big roar" was her answer. I said "Well, we're cheering for the other team." "Oh yah, for sure" she laughed and went to get our beer. I told Merv he was going to have to turn his baseball cap around so she could see his Canadian flag on the back of it.

But we weren't sure about everyone knowing we were Canadian. The crowd was boistrous. All of them young people. They yelled and shouted and were very excited about the game. A lot of them went outside for a break before the overtime, and things were noisy and unsettled. It was a sunny day and there must have been 400 people. It was an old steel building of some kind - could have been a flour mill. Now it was a Brewery making incredibly good beer, serving great food, and obviously making a fortune.

We ordered food and got settled for the overtime. We discussed what we should do when our team won. "Let's stand up and cheer and start singing O Canada". Hmmmm. We weren't sure if we had the nerve.

The waitress by this time had decided that we weren't making it up when we talked about "cheering for the other team". "Hey, you weren't kidding, were you" she laughed.

The overtime period started. We had a good TV, but there was so much noise, and yelling, it was difficult to hear. It took us a few seconds to realize that we had won! We had won GOLD!"

We "High-fived" and did our thumbs up and "Way to Go! Way to go, Canada!" congratulating ourselves over and over and talking about how great it was that Sydney Crosby had scored the goal.

Things had become a bit quiet. People were not saying a lot. They started leaving. We finished our sandwich as the bar slowly emptied. When the medals were done and the Canadian flag started rising, we sang our song. Not loud. Not standing up. But we sang every word. And we cried here and there through it all. We were so happy to be together.

Four Canadians together in that bar in Arizona.

A couple of young guys were at a table in front of us. They stayed for the medals and the anthem. They never said a word. But when they got up to leave, they shook our hands and said "Congratulations!" We thought that was great.

The good ole hockey game

2010-02-27T11:19:00.000-08:00

We thought the crowd would be small. The Edmonton Oilers have had a bad season. The Phoenix Coyotes are already in the race for the cup. Would their fans even show up? But Scott and Bonnie are here for a visit, and being big Oilers fans, going to this NHL game is a given.

And we were wrong about the Coyotes fans. Though sparse at the start, by game time it looks as if every seat is full! All that's left is some goals from our team.

Hockey games have become theatre. When the lights go down, there's a sort of hush and with a great burst of music and spotlights these burley boys rush onto the ice to wild applause and cheering. They skate quickly around and around, and it seems as if the ice surface is not big enough to hold them all. Quite a show. Quite a show.

The hockey arena in Phoenix is called "Jobing.com". It's a job finding company that finds jobs for people in Arizona and does it all on line.

The University of Phoenix Stadium (Arizona Cardinals) is across the street. I am showing you a picture of it, but to drive around a corner and get your first look? - Whew! With a state of the art retractable roof it looks exactly like a huge ship from another planet.

In the Jobing area, we find huge banners and billboards, a movie theatre, hotels, lots of stores, and pubs, and restaurants. It's no wonder everyone arrives early, prepared to spend the day wandering around enjoying the ambience. There is unlimited parking - free - this could be the reason there is no public transit to the area.

Wow! A lot of Edmonton Oilers shirts out here! - lots of talk and laughter. We enjoy beer and food on the patio and watch the crowd getting bigger. Big smiles - everyone out for a good time. We do the shops, and pose for pictures. Scott and his dad check the car, move it around and discuss the pros and cons of each parking spot.

And a final word about watching an NHL Hockey game live. It really is a big rush and worth the cost and effort. Although our drive from our digs in Tempe, Arizona to the big arena in Glendale, Arizona is 45 minutes, it's worth it. The space, the parking, the other amenities - all these things make the trip a real delight. (The score? 6 - 1 for Phoenix - happy home fans)

Bon Jovi "live"

2010-02-25T13:51:00.000-08:00

"Baby, I know what I do for a living and I do it well" says Bon Jovi at his concert in Phoenix. "I ain't gonna talk too much. Cause that's not what you came for. Right?" You learn a lot in 25 years, and this good looking 48 year old knows all the tricks. His fans adore him. Leaping to their feet, they shout and scream and wave their arms. In fact, they never sit down! I kid you not. Everyone stands up - all the time! We giggle and pretend we're not the least bit surprised.

Huge television style HD cameras shoot very sharp close up shots and put them above the stage - in astonishing clarity. When this hunky guy wants a special moment with his crowd, we feel we can touch him. And he knows it - big time.

Bon Jovi is the consummate showman. Removes his gorgeous leather jacket after the first two numbers so we can watch his t-shirt becoming darker and darker with perspiration - he's somewhat hyper on stage. Very athletic movements. He can also make love to a microphone with great tenderness should the mood strike him.

His fans LOVE him - they hug him with their eyes. They know every lyric, every melody. As the local newspaper put it - "He gives them a look that says, "This is more for you than for me, because I've sung these songs a million times". He listens with delight as they sing the parts they love the best.

He's good at cheer leading. He asks for their love, opens his arms wide with a sort of "well - am I wonderful or not?" and they roar approval. When you consider how long this guy's been doing this - that's not half bad.

Saguaro

2010-02-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

We got a jigsaw puzzle for Christmas. "Saguaro Glass Design" by Frank Lloyd Wright. It's looks delightfully difficult. Because we happen to be in Frank Lloyd Wright territory right now, we decide to spend the day researching the man, and his 'Saguaro'.

We start at "Taliesin West" in Scottsdale, Arizona. He built this house and would come here every winter from Wisconsin. The word "taliesin" (tally-ESS-in) is a Welsh word meaning "shining brow". He designed this building to sit on the brow of a hill leaving the crown, or brow, open. The surrounding land is lush by desert standards - it's really warm today, and we're happy cats.

The bookstore is filled with little Saguaros. Book marks, Christmas tree decorations, framed pictures - there are even Saguaro ear-rings!!!! But we won't see it here. We're told that it is installed in the foyer at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel. We forgot to ask why. But there are architects studying here, families living here, tourists all over the place. The Saguaro is made of glass, it's old, and perhaps it was decided that it would be safer some place else.

Next day we decide to do lunch at the Biltmore and meet our Saguaro on its terms. Sure enough it's right there - right inside the door!

Isn't it stunning! I wanted to move the little table in front, but thought someone would come running. Now I wish I had just done it. It's hard to get the "glass" feeling from the picture, but up close it's very glassy, and you can tell it's been around for awhile.

We had cod fish tacos and fine beer for lunch in the busy pub. The rain was pelting down on the two 18-hole golf courses outside and we promised we would come back and golf here when the sun shone again.

The jigsaw puzzle? As soon as I find the proper "installation" environment, I'm diggin into this baby. Anyone want to volunteer?

"Life in a Cold Place"

2010-02-19T18:26:00.000-08:00

The Heard Museum in Phoenix. Impressive. Not only what's in it. But the floors, the walls, the exhibit designs, the lighting - big, big money in this one! One of the best I've visited. Easy to find out all about any item in few words. Whoever was putting this all together knew how to do this work.

We were delighted with an impressive Canadian exhibition of Inuit native art - "Life in a Cold Place". WOW. What is it about this whole "native" talent? Do these people breathe special air in Nunavet? The artistic skill is quite simply superb! Take your moms, dads, kids. There's something here for every member of the family.

They were also featuring another great artist, Allan Houser - an Apache. An enormous amount of pieces for one artist. And big stuff in marble, and stone, and bone, and all those "hard" materials. How could he do so many? Did he ever eat or sleep? Stunning, dramatic pieces.

We didn't leave enough of our day for this. I have checked the internet and most of the comments reflect this. "This museum should be visited more than once". It's true.

There are twelve Galleries and we managed two.

And look! Here's a piece from Vancouver Island.

David Neel. "Mask of the Lone Fighter". Very cool.

Hurray Canada!

2010-02-12T19:40:00.000-08:00

The Opening Ceremony was pretty good. (notice how it's not 'ceremonies' any more). That snow boarder coming down the mountain and into the stadium was sensational. But when he bent down to take off his board, I was astonished! Why did he spoil the rush of the moment like that! Just to raise his arms and say welcome? Why did he need to take off the board?

And the O Canada - the girl in the red dress. Disappointing. We wanted Big. We wanted Emotional. It was the wrong place for this arrangement. There was a slump.

The costumes of the natives were absolutely incredible. Their dancing was sensational. Bravo!

The long shot of the stadium took my breath away - stunning.

Notice how everyone is a star these days? Those athletes all marched in under the usual banners in the usual order. But nowadays they stare at the camera, wave, shout, smile, take pictures of themselves, not a shy one in the lot. It's great fun and really adds energy. I thought the stadium was almost hushed when the Americans entered. Was it our TV audio? Or did the audience send some sort of message.

I sensed a bit of tentativeness to the proceedings generally, I have to admit. A feeling of things being sort of made up on the spot. The RCMP flag contingent didn't seem to go together. It was as if they were so busy trying to be politically correct - right amount of women, natives, so on and so on, that it looked like a hodge podge in a way. They were all such different sizes.

kdlang. Hallejulah. Not her best take on the song. She seemed to be having problems closing.

I was thrilled with Wayne Gretzky, and Joni Mitchell, and Sara McGlaughlin (sensational).

As a Canadian, I certainly did my share of emotional gulps and reaching for the kleenex.

I loved every minute. I am not in Canada right now, and I miss not being there.

I am proud of my country. I will always feel honored to be a Canadian.

It's the best nation in the world.

Rock Around the Clock

2010-01-29T19:39:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine was a DJ at a radio station in Calgary in 1955. He said the best part of the day was when new music arrived. All the DJ's would crowd around in the library and listen, deciding which records were good and which were bad.

He especially remembers "Bill Haley and the Comets". "Rock Around the Clock" was getting a lot of press and the DJ's headed down the hall to put it on the air right away.

The production manager said "Hey, just a minute! We're going to have to run this by the station manager. This music isn't what we usually play!" He was right. In many ways, this was still the era of Frankie, and Dean Martin and Dinah Shore! What could be more different than Bill Haley and the Comets! The music shocked many people. They thought it loud, and tacky, and even inflammatory. (“Rock Around the Clock” became the anthem for rebellious 50's youth. It was used for the movie "Blackboard Jungle")

This seems very funny in hindsight, and I said as much to my friend. "I know. After what music has become today, this seems like "much ado about nothing". Rock Around the Clock was rejected by management. The MGM Studio Orchestra used to record softer versions of upstart music, and "this is what we were told to play" says my friend. "It was painful. Our young listeners would call us and sneer".

Not for long. Everyone was playing it. "Rock Around the Clock" stayed at #1 for 8 weeks and sold an estimated 25 million copies worldwide.

Rock n' Roll. Bill Haley has been called the father of it all.

Here's a picture of the MGM record. It's a "78".

Used Cars

2010-01-24T19:16:00.000-08:00

Phoenix is a big town. There's always something going on.
On a sunny Saturday we head for the Barret Jackson Collector Car Auction.
Held in huge tents and huge buildings at their Phoenix exhibition site, this is an awesome event - filled with the pounding sound of the auctioneers urging yet another $1000 or $5000 from the bidders. Beautifully restored vehicles sell for $50,000 all the way up to $200,000! When you watch it on television, you get close and personal with the people who bid this kind of money. They all look like working class folks. Everyone wears jeans and well-worn shirts and jackets. Their wives smile encouragement and a sort of "look, this has nothing to do with me" attitude. I don't think either of them get behind the wheel and drive it home. As near as I can figure, these vehicles are rarely on the road. They are too valuable. The cameras peer into every nook and cranny. Everything is spotless. The motor looks as if the key has never turned. The seats look as no one has ever sat on them.
Another intriguing aspect of the auction is the guys on the floor encouraging customers to make another bid. They each have their own little nod, or smile, or arm action. A woman is inclined to touch the sleeve, and squeeze the shoulder, or in some way "get close". The guy bidders seem to react to this. A man uses encouraging noises, or hand in the air "let's go" gestures - or a sort of "You ready? You ready? You ready? kind of stance. I'm sure someone has analyzed these movements - which ones work and which ones don't.
You can tell which bidders have done this before. They betray very little of their emotions, and when they are no longer interested, the cheerleader guys know. They just know, and they are gone - on to someone else who is still bidding. It's fascinating to watch. The Auctioneers are likely the best in the business - they will not hesitate to stop their sing-song, point to a bidder and say "Sir, is your bid of $100,000 a legitimate bid? I just want to confirm". When the bidder nods his head he starts his auctioneering again.
When we left in the late afternoon, they were still coming in by the hundreds. Traffic handlers were pointing to the latest parking areas, the walk to the action was getting a bit longer by the hour. I heard that it went on till midnight.
When I think of the starving of the world, this scenario seems a little out of whack.
But so goes life. It's always imperfect.

On and Off

2010-01-23T17:55:00.000-08:00

Whatever happened to "on" and "off"?
Remember when you walked into a motel room, clicked the "power" button on the TV set, and you got TV?
Not any more.
We've just moved into an apartment for awhile. On the coffee table is a huge remote with a VERY large plastic-covered "direction" card underneath. I'm impressed. Needless to say the most noticeable item is the large, red "ON" button.
I pick up the remote and press this button. Nothing. So I press the "tv" button. Nothing. I press the "sat" button. Nothing.
In frustration, I try more buttons.
I discover the "Input" menu which lists the following:
TV
AV1
AV2
S-Video1
S-Video2
Component1
Component2
HDMI1
HDMI2
HDMI3
VGA
Because of one of the "black boxes" sitting there, I know we have HDTV. So I go down the list, and click HDMI1.
To my delight, big white letters on the screen say "please wait". So I do.
In 4 seconds the words "no signal" appear. "no signal" jumps from one part of the screen to the other, as if trying to make the point that there is no signal all over the screen - not just in one spot!
By this time, Merv appears, and I leave.
Later on in the evening, when making adjustments, I notice that he uses the tiny little controls at the back of the TV! not the remote. These little controls seem to accomplish everything he wants. Just about. He has to pick up the other remotes at different stages of the process.
Next day, I decide to get the TV working in the other bedroom. I also use these little buttons instead of the remotes, and I get along pretty good, but I still can't get my program.
"Well, this TV uses a different setting" Merv says. "Go to the inputs, and use AV1 instead of HDMI1. Remember to use this other remote for audio and point it to that other black box under the big one."
Whew! Such is TV technology today.
We all get used to our own. And when the grandchildren have left, we patiently put all the settings back where they belong.
Whatever happened to "on" and "off"? Gone. Gone the way of the dodo bird.

2010-01-16T18:34:00.002-08:00

Merv and I have lived in the most astonishing time span of history.
As a little boy, Merv's grandfather listened to news of the Great War on one of the first radios.
As a teenager Merv got a short wave radio and listened "live" to nightclub entertainment from New York City.
A disk jockey at a radio station, he was actually part of the whole "record" industry. Completely smitten by broadcasting and technology. he used to say "After you've worked in broadcasting, everything else seems boring".
A "record" was a vinyl disk about 12 inches round. You put it on a revolving table, gently placed the needle arm on it and music filled the air! Eventually we all had "record players" in our homes with our own collections of "78's" as they were called. Girlfriends at our house listened over and over to Mel Torme singing "The Little White Cloud That Cried". At the back of the local drug store, we'd go into a little booth and listen to the record that we wanted to buy. It became a gathering place for the high school crowd.
The "stereo" era was phenomenal. The very word was everyone's favorite topic of conversation. The stereo was the most important piece of furniture in the house. It played "LP's". Huge disks with music from a whole movie or many songs from one artist. I clearly remember "Jesus Christ Superstar". Don't know how our kids ever slept through a party at our house.

We were young marrieds when television appeared. It was frustrating at the start. The signal was so "here one minute and gone the next" that many an evening we would just get a few minutes of a show, and then the screen would go snowy. And then "Hurry, it's on again!" Everyone ran.
Saturday night and "The Honeymooners" was perfect bliss.

By the time our kids were watching, TV was well under way, and many an evening was spent with the Moms and Dads and all the kids in front of the black and white TV set. For some reason it was a "rec room/basement" item at first, and we would all troop down there and cuddle together under blankets.
When we bought our first computer it cost $8000! Merv bought it so that he could file his flight plans and they would go straight to the airport terminal. I remember spending hours and hours on this computer, feeling absolutely exhilarated - not quite sure what I accomplished except that I couldn't stay away from it! No one could. And I don't think it's really changed!
And what can I say about the internet! Of all the things I have mentioned in this post, the Internet has to be the most phenomenal. The growing conversation that humanity is having with each other is the seminal event of the planet.
This script couldn't have been dreamed up by anyone. And it's all been on our watch. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow!

War Planes

2010-01-12T22:08:00.001-08:00

Every Sunday the F18's roar by us on the golf course. The noise is deafening. We stop in the middle of the backswing, and stare upward in awe. It's a dramatic sight. They seem gone before we can even take it all in. Next Sunday, they are back again.
Our golfing companions wait patiently for us to continue the game - "Oh, they come by every Sunday. It's fun".
We do some research. F18 veteran pilots need to keep up-to-date with their flying skills because the US military wants to have them available if need be. So they leave from a military airport, land at a smaller one, and take off again - enough so that that they keep familiar with any changes in the machines. It seems like an efficient plan .
But there's something here that doesn't seem to make sense. Here we are in a war against terrorists. People who are blowing up varying amounts of other people all over the place. It's a small scale type of activity that can't be stopped by a huge war plane. Terrorists make roadside bombs for $1.98 that kill a lot of people, while a $90 million dollar F18 flies by overhead. A war plane is for a war with one army against another, one country against another. With lots of chances to do damage with bombs. A terrorist war doesn't work that way. We don't know who, or what, or where the enemy is. One terrorist doesn't seem to know what the other terrorist is doing. They don't even know each other's names. This is the power of the movement. An F18? A thousand of these planes wouldn't make one bit of difference to this war. The very word "fighter plane" seems out of date. It's puzzling.

Bon Jovi

2010-01-06T20:17:00.000-08:00

We just got our tickets for the Bon Jovi concert in Phoenix.
It wasn't that long ago that I couldn't spell his name. But last year, I discovered YouTube. I would put on my high-priced earphones (the tools of an earlier career) and rock back and forth in front of my computer listening to music I'd never heard before. Bon Jovi was one of them. I loved him. Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Kris Kristopherson, Sting, Rod Stewart. It's somewhat embarrassing to admit to never having watched or listened to them.
Janis Joplin and Melissa Etheridge. And there's a girl called Joss Stone who really intrigues me. In one of her clips she wonders around a huge auditorium in a sort of nightie and bare feet singing "Son of a Preacher Man" at the top of her voice. It's mesmerizing.
Nora Jones is such a lady. Tentative, and somewhat vulnerable, her music is full of the sweet small gems of genius. Diana Krall went to Paris to become famous. Much easier than trying to do it in Canada. I've seen this girl in concert in Calgary. Her "Little Girl Blue" is masterful. (Janis Joplin's? Whew!) Diana Krall, her husband Elvis Costello, and Willie Nelson sing together ("Crazy") in a concert and it's fun. She keeps giving her husband sexy little smiles.
I prefer songs in a minor key with a story line that breaks your heart. "You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore". I was amazed to "search" this song on YouTube and discover that no one does it but Barbara Streisand! Mind you, if she got to it first, and it became a part of her repertoire - who in their right mind would attempt to upstage her. She and Neil Diamond do it as a duet if they find themselves on stage together. I've grown into and out of Barbara as the years have gone by, but let's face it - she's an extraordinary artist. And when Celine Dion arrived, "Barbra" seemed such a relief.
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Even Eric Clapton does this. And for opposites, check out a sensational and very dramatic concert pianist named Keith Jarret. His rendition will leave you gasping.
There's a songster in Norway - Sissel - she's been called one of the finest sopranos of the world. (What Child is This) Her voice is astonishing. The vocal chords of an angel or a saint.
Leonard Cohen. When I discovered YouTube and was still unaware of all that was out there, I listened to "Hallelujah" over and over again. His recent London concert revealed a true hero. He's very deep. His lyrics are very deep.
I listened to a concert pianist from China - "Lang Lang".
The "Punch Brothers" - the lead mandolin/banjo player makes Steve Martin and Earl Scruggs sound a bit weak. Ever heard mandolins and banjos do Mozart? These guys are magicians.
Simon and Garfunkle's concert in Central Park is another favorite. I've golfed many a game humming "Scarborough Fair". Paul Simon is on my list for further study.
12 years ago Bon Jovi and Pavarotti performed together in London - a fund raiser for Liberia. Jon is dressed all in leather. He looks great - much better than Pavarotti.
I like most kinds of music. Except opera. It seems to me that the artists I've mentioned can do more quiet, subtle and spine-tingling things to a set of notes than a whole stage full of opera singers ever could.

Not in Kansas anymore

2010-01-02T10:24:00.000-08:00

One year we did Mexico in winter - a couple of weeks. I did a photo album and called it "Going to the Sun". I rather liked the title. When you're from the Prairies of North America, spending part of winter in a warm climate really feels like you're entering a new land.
Yesterday, I was looking at photos from friends who are visiting Punta Cana in the Dominion Republic. Now, that would be warm, very warm. We're talking tropical flowers in the hair, bare feet in the sand, big big drinks with lots of fruit.
We're relocating to Phoenix, Arizona in a couple of weeks. Talking on the phone with friends from Alberta who will be joining us for a few days. "We'll travel light" they said "shorts and shirts". I'll have to chat with them.
There's "going to the sun/01" and "going to the sun/02". They can be quite different. The Dominion Republic sun is not the Phoenix Arizona sun. North America is still North. In Palm Springs we have lots of sun, but this doesn't mean it's hot. We start golf at noon. It can be warm then. 75 degrees Fahrenheit is 23 degrees Celsius. It can stay that way for 2 hours, at most. Then you start adding the little sweater, and then the bigger sweater. On the 18th hole, I'm looking pretty bundled up!
You'll still see shorts and shirts - not looking very warm mind you, but coping.
The black people here seem the least inclined to cope with winter. They do their work in hoodies a lot and the girls who drive the beer wagons on the golf course say they find winter here very cold.
Winter in this town is great but it's still North America. It's not Saskatchewan, but it's still North.
Changing topic to close: We drive a convertible now. Still pretty keen so on our "road trips" we usually have the top down, and get lots of waves and smiles. We also have GPS. The road trips go like this. We have a list of places we've heard about, read about, or listed on the 'point of interest' in the GPS itself. Yesterday, we put the "Arnold Palmer" restaurant into the GPS. It took some looking. (the neat thing about the GPS is that she's doing the looking. We just turn the corners when she tells us to!) Tucked into a small nook out of the way. Small sign on canopy. Small but important looking door. Another sign half hidden behind a sort of newstand. Two vehicles parked in front. You would have to be feeling particularly adventuresome to walk in there! Looked as if it were designed for some sort of personal friends - "Yeah, I know we have a sign out front but that doesn't mean we want you to come in!"

2009-12-29T19:18:00.000-08:00

Golf courses can be strange places. You arrive at the pro-shop, pay your money, and anything can happen after that. Yesterday, our golf partner immediately starts talking about "The Secret" - a book. It's about extremely successful people who simply kept wishing for success every day every hour, and that this desire formed its own energy, and finally they got what they were wishing for. "What you think is who you become".
The guy calls himself "Scottie". Enormous. Big shoes. Flat feet.
He drove truck for 20 years. Then his life starts falling apart. Loses job, loses wife, goes into free fall. Somehow, he gets on the Oprah show. She is chatting with a woman who espouses the philosophy described above. Scottie gets interviewed from the audience and tells his story. He gets hired by this woman's company. He hauls equipment and lighting to all the live shows put on by this woman and her husband. I am adding a YouTube link so that you can get a feeling for what this lady is all about.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTb6mKAwftA&feature=related
Scottie says that his life has changed completely because of this woman and her philosophy.

Today we start talking with the "starter" - the guy who gets you on the first tee. He says he can put us on in 17 minutes. Meanwhile a smallish woman walks over to ask if we are the "Rices". "No? Oh I was wishing you were the Rices and we thought you would be perfect to golf with."
All kinds of things can happen in a golf lineup. Someone doesn't show up. Someone is late. People start talking to each other. Our case was a perfect example. The starter shouts "Rice?" "Rice?" "Is there a "Rice" here"? No answer. He walks over to the smallish woman. We are standing together at this point. "You and your husband were supposed to golf with Rice?" "Yes, but if there is no "Rice", we would be happier golfing with these folks" indicating us. "That's just fine", the starter says. "You're right after this foursome".
Such is a game decided.
It can be fun, or not fun. Partly fun, and sometimes little bits of everything.
In this case, the smallish woman played golf quite a bit better than the husband, so he starts telling jokes. The more poorly his game went the more jokes.
In a perfect golf world, we shake hands while sharing first names. Conversation is sparse, impersonal, but at-a-distance friendly. We are all there to play golf and try to get a good score. Not to win friends and influence people. Hand shakes again at the 18th. The end.

2009-12-29T10:05:00.000-08:00

Tuesday is ground maintenance day for the "Desert Princess" - the gated community in which we're living in Palm Springs.
First thing in the morning, the equipment arrives in golf carts, the motors rev up and men appear from everywhere. A lot of them are wearing the equipment in harnesses on their backs. They speak Mexican, and yell at each other, clap their hands, and generally scurry about. No dilly-dallying. Even the "pool guy" is here this morning moving some sort of tall pipe back and forth, back and forth. The biggest grass cutting machine has a good looking driver - and he can make that tractor do a tango! Goes so fast and weaves itself in and out of corners and rock decorations, never misses a beat. Then the men on foot follow him with little grass cutting mowers on their backs. You don't want to be coming out of the shower and brushing your hair in the bedroom at that time. Then the third level guys do the raking and clipping. When they clear out, we're left with the manicured scene you see in the picture above. I just snapped it.
It's astonishing that the desert is so compliant. We're told that as long as the plants have water - you can stand back and watch it grow. The constancy of the moisture is more important than the amount of moisture. I can't comment on added fertilizers, but we are left with the feeling that a desert can become a lush green space surprisingly easily, and inexpensively. Go figure.
All of the workers are Mexican, happy, good-natured and intent on getting the job done well.
Their neighborhoods are not fancy. Their houses humble. The gated golf course communities support them I would think.
On a road trip the other day, we drove through the real desert. Quite beautiful in multicolored pale golds, slightly reddish, and very nubby. The closer the highway takes you to human beings and their communities, the dirtier the desert gets. Debris everywhere. The desert is too delicate for debris. Sad statement about us.
Hey look! Hummingbirds in the shrubs outside my patio door! Beautiful!

"AVATAR"

2009-12-23T18:46:00.000-08:00

What's all the buzz about the movie "Avatar"?
Because I seldom go to movies, but still want to know about them, I go to the New York Times. The New York Times knows EVERYTHING.
I used to get simple movie reviews. Now I get clips of the movies. So many clips that my grandchildren will think I've seen the movie when we share our favorite parts.
James Cameron ("Titanic") made the movie. He had the script for "Avatar" in a drawer for some years, but there wasn't enough technology to put it together the way he wanted. Finally he decided it was time.
It's about a distant moon called Pandora in the year is 2154.
The hero is Jake. He has signed on with a corporation that’s intent on extracting a valuable substance from the moon called "unobtainium". (You can go ahead and laugh. James Cameron decided to be a bit funny.)
The natives of Pandora make this difficult and they are awesome fighters.
So a plan is born. Make some look-alike Pandorians, infiltrate the natives and change their minds about letting the mineral be taken.
The story line follows Jake who becomes one of the look-alikes and is sent to carry out the plan. Of course he falls in love with a female Pandorian, and in the end switches sides. (same old same old)
It's lush. The exotic creatures include an astonishment of undulating, flying, twitching and galloping organisms. They don’t just crawl through the underbrush; they thunder and shriek, yip and hiss, pointy teeth gleaming. A fan said "The film is so visually stunning that at times it leaves you breathless. The animation, special effects and real scenery are absolutely seamless. It is a breakthrough film technologically speaking."
As Mr. Cameron says "You'll know you're not in Kansas anymore!"

the Tiger saga

2009-12-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

"I feel sorry for Tiger".
Merv always laughs when I say this. I think he's laughing because Tiger's got so much money. That whole thing about - if he has a lot of money, why would you feel sorry for him.
But I still feel sorry for him. When I think about Tiger's Dad, I can't help but feel that Tiger is devastated right now. His Dad would be so disappointed in his son. And what he's done to his reputation.
I feel sorry for his kids. I wonder whether they will ever know their Dad very well, or be very close with him.
And I suppose like everyone else, I'm surprised that he handled his "other life" so badly. He would never lose that kind of discipline on the golf course. He would never lose that kind of concentration on the golf course. Everything about his "other life" seems to fly in the face of the kind of guy he is.
Think about it. His tournament face is a sombre one. Rarely smiles. Never laughs. I don't think he has a "silly" bone in his body. He's basically just your ordinary guy, not emotional, not artistic or creative, not the kind of guy who cracks up at a joke, or acts out. Just a straight ahead, ordinary type of guy.
His Dad would mourn for him right now. Surely we're not heading into an "O.J. Simpson" scenario here! Please Tiger, not that! Don't sink to that.
I want the old Tiger Woods back.
Could we start over again?

Desert life

2009-12-16T19:41:00.000-08:00

Palm Springs is an interesting city. It's in the desert surrounded by dramatic wind propellors. And it has a vaguely Las Vegas characteristic - you know how you can be driving down a crowded street in Las Vegas with bright lights and energy vibrating from the casinos - when suddenly you're right next to 3 acres of desolate property filled with burned out grasses and dirty gravel. Palm Springs has those moments.
Every year we've come here, it seems to have grown another 30 miles.
We stay in one of those "gated" communities - where you drive up to the traffic control centre - have your credentials checked and then enormous gates open and let you in. You drive down endless streets that all look the same - with the green green grass of the golf course on both sides. When those gates clang shut, you're not sure whether to be happy or sad. This policed entrance seems to have been there for 30 years, so people must still feel that they need protection from the big bad world out there. When we were moving luggage, we parked a little off the designated area, and came close to getting a ticket from some official policeman or something!
It's very pretty! Every blade of grass seems to have been studied and probed and proper treatment administered. A cast of hundreds do this important work. The vistas are solidly and overwhelmingly green and lush. Trees are trimmed, hedges carefully managed, flowers lovingly tended. This could easily be B-roll for one of those web sites where you sign in to fashion your own neighborhood, family, and friends.
These gated communities are popular here. The natives assure us that there is virtually no crime in Palm Springs. But still, they are popular. The residents beyond the gates seem happy to pay for the policing, the formal lawns and gardens, and everything else that adds up to a fairly healthy monthly charge.
Palm Springs has the Bing Crosby bar and the Frank Sinatra bar, the Buddy Rogers Street, Dinah Shore Drive, and Date Palm Highway. Every shopping mall plays "White Christmas" and everyone shows you Bob Hope's house on the mountain. Americans are good at promoting their heroes, and Palm Springs especially promotes entertainment biggies because they picked out Las Vegas and Palm Springs and literally propelled them into existence. These were masterful moves.
But all this talk about Palm Springs is not the real story. The real story is the weather. While our homes back in Canada are inundated with cold cold cold and snow snow snow, we're on the golf course basking in warm sunshine and lush meadows!
The golf? Courses everywhere. Wanting your business. Offering this, that, and the other. Sometimes it seems as if there are more Canadians here than Americans. You're more likely to get partnered with a couple from Edmonton, than a couple from Los Angeles.
We're researching. Arizona is our next stop. We'll get back to you.

Dream

2009-12-12T21:59:00.000-08:00

"Suppose last night you had two dreams. In one, God appears and commands you to take a year off and travel the world. In the other, God commands you to take a year off to go work in a leper colony. Which of those dreams, if either, would you consider meaningful? Or suppose you had one dream in which your friend defends you against enemies, and another dream in which that same friend goes behind your back and tries to seduce your significant other? Which dream would you take seriously?" This opens a New York Times article about dreams. It goes on to say that finally we know whether dreams are good or bad and how to interpret them. The rest of the article says no one knows for sure.

My dream was like a video. I'm on a mountain lift - one of those things that take you for a ride up the mountain. It's an incredible view - desert with mountains and a lot of sky. Right near the top, I know that we're falling - falling to our death. I hold up my cell phone, and we (not sure who my companion is) both smile a big smile for the picture. Then it seems I win an award for this astonishing picture. I'd had a restless kind of night - leg cramps. Sleep was scarce and I believe this dream happened in the latter part of the evening.
It was a very clear story, clear enough that when I woke I played it over in my mind. I felt sure I had the story line down pat, but I had done this before and knew that I had to scribble the outline somewhere or it would be gone.
Sure enough. I start describing it next afternoon, and it's gone. I came back here and found it scribbled on the side of a newspaper crossword puzzle.
I've heard that it's good to dream. It's the way the brain cleans itself out. Or something like that. I don't know whether that's true or not. The brain is a very complicated item - perhaps. Or also it could be that it's just like a video that replays stange clips sometimes in the right order, and sometimes in the wrong order.

"the poor little thing!"

2009-12-10T20:01:00.000-08:00

I noticed her right away - "not a baby anymore" girl child in a harness on her back - facing her mom's back with legs spread out dangling back and forth. And that's what they did. The mom was walking quite fast - enough to make the legs dangle back and forth.
We were sitting close to the gift store on the ferry in an outdoor eating area. The Mom went into the store, but even then she slowed only a little. In fact this pace was why I started watching her. Somewhat frantic about it. Another reason was the age of the child. This was not a Mom trying to get a baby to sleep. There was something else going on. The little girl seemed happy enough.
We moved around a bit and I lost track of her.
The weather turned cold and we wandered indoors. A main area with lots of empty seats. Football on TV.
Suddenly she was there again. Up and down the aisle right next to us. Same pace but the little girl looked unsettled and weary.
I started working on my crossword puzzle. A family of Mom, Dad, and 2 little boys were having a wonderful game with puppets and this took my complete attention for a spell. They had window seats and suddenly I saw her again walking quickly on the outside deck. A wicked cold wind. The little girl was crying hard and moving her head back and forth. The Mom ignored this, kept pounding back and forth. The same piece of deck, up and down, up and down. No sweater on either of them.
When she appeared inside I realized why it was the same piece of deck. A young man sat at a table with a lap top open. She stopped there and started rummaging in a bag lying on the seat beside him. Everything came together in that instant. They were a couple and there was something amiss between them. She was pounding that same piece of deck because he was sitting there and couldn't miss her. By this time the little girl's face was red from the cold and the crying. My heart went out to her. Something distant between man and child made me wonder whether this little girl was his little girl. Saying nothing, her mom took something out of the bag and disappeared. 10 minutes later we were heading down to our car. I never saw them again.

Breakfast at Denny's

2009-12-03T22:41:00.000-08:00

We hear it as soon as we open the door.
"You have a good day now!" "Can I get you more coffee?"
Americans have always been good at service. They seem to like their jobs. They seem very happy to bring you food, keep you happy and take your money for it. As well they should.
"Denny's" in Bakersfield, California was full. Every table. Every booth. When you walk into a place like this for a good breakfast, you know they are doing something right.
We are taken to a clean table and promptly have a cup of coffee put in front of us.
I want granola and fruit. It is new on the menu and seems tied in with a bigger breakfast item.
Our waitress explains that the granola will cost me $2.95 and the fresh fruit $3.95 if I don't take the bigger breakfast item. I say okay.
Merv orders his breakfast. She looks at him with a smile. "Sir, if you make a small adjustment to your order, your wife can get her granola for 49 cents and her fruit for 59 cents! We'll just make it all one order."
We are very happy with this and away she goes.
The breakfast is delicious.
And somehow they have figured out how to keep you happy without constantly being in your face. They put a thermos of coffee on your table. They slip in and out the odd time, adjusting this or that, but never do you feel put upon or pestered.
A friend said this was because jobs are so hard to come by here, that they have to do all this to keep their jobs.
I don't agree with him. We have been in the U.S. many times, and many years ago. This service style was around then, and is exactly the same now.
In Canada, service people often make you feel that they wished they were anywhere but there. That life dealt them a bad blow when they had to resort to "waiting on tables".
Not Americans. They wish you a "good morning", give you their opinion of whatever comes up in the conversation, make sure that you get the kind of order that you want, and send you on your way with a cheery "See you again!"
I like that.

Update on hotel beds

2009-11-29T18:01:00.000-08:00

"Two pillow types are provided for your comfort.
Choose from down & feather in the front
and a down alternative in the back"

This is the 3rd hotel with this conformation. Four pillows, 2 front, and 2 back. All white. These are not decorative pillows.
4 white pillows and a card laying there waiting for our trembling fingers to pick it up, read it and faint with delight.
Merv was the one who noticed. "Look at these pillows. They're all different".
It must cost these hotels a lot to keep making these changes to their rooms.
The feather pillows are small and huggable. I'm sure that people will like them the best. They should have used the cards for votes! But 4 pillows are great for me. I love a lot of pillows and have them thrown up and down and round about my bed as the night progresses.
Another change. Bed size. The "double" is back! Instead of 2 queen sized beds - 2 double sized beds! It's great - plenty of sleeping room, but more space. And a whole pile full of double sized bedding!

Big Brother

2009-11-23T11:56:00.001-08:00

I suppose all email programs are different.
On my email program, I've started to notice that the content of the emails I get is reflected in the rest of the page.
This morning I got a letter from a friend about her health.
On the edges of the screen were all these links to health problems.

Tinnitus Symptoms?
Latest Products that will Give you Back Your Life. Buy Now Online!
www.biogetica.com
Headache Symptom
Learn About Headache Symptom Advice Headache Symptom
AllergySupply.com/Headache-Symptom
More about...
Taste Buds »
Im Tired »
Tired Eyes »

I had this strange feeling that someone was looking over my shoulder as I read my friend's letter.
"Oh yah, that's so irritating - I hate it when that happens. You could try some of these products."
Everyone seems to be so concerned with their privacy on the internet. I've never seen any comments about this.

Garbage

2009-11-20T18:11:00.000-08:00

Great name. It's not really an 'incinerator'. More like a 'garberator'.
This new place we bought has one. In the sink.
You put garbage down the hole in the sink. The switch is under the sink. With the tap turned on and a pretty big noise, these little blades go round and round and chew up the garbage and send it down some hole to oblivion. One blade goes around one way and the other blade goes round the opposite way.
But whatever way they go - there is very little garbage remaining.
Its favorite garbage is veggie and fruit garbage. A visit to the website says "Ham bones!?" "Drumsticks"!? "Pork bones"!? I haven't gone there yet, and don't think I will. The website has pics of carrots, pasta, celery, potato peels, drumsticks.
I love this thing.
Peel and chop and throw the rest in the sink. Push it down. Wash it down.
One day I went down the hole. Yep. Put on my plastic glove and felt around down there. Found a few "leftovers" - and from then on I clean it regularly this way. Nothing is left in the grinding chamber.
We eat a lot of onions. Peel a big onion. I'm wasteful and I throw out a good-sized outer ring. After grinding, here's what I found. The thin brownish papery outer part? Untouched! the blades don't touch it! Although damp of course, it's uncut and all there. Too delicate.
But this baby can chop up a pile of stuff in seconds. In most cases, leaving nothing.
It's my favorite toy.

Gauntlet Poem

2009-11-20T14:39:00.000-08:00

My friend threw down the gauntlet. We decided to take snippets from a few of our blogs, and see how they might come together - story line be damned. I posted 12 blogs in June. These are the bits from those blogs.
My university grandson did a lot better job with his, but he's young, and I think the young have a better feel for this kind of "laissez-faire" writing. It was fun.

Here I am in this empty house, staring at the damp cloth in my hand
Sunlight streaming in.

"I forget what we meant to do with them, it was so long ago."
Shrugging it off - indifferent.

But little by little and bit by bit - we weighed each item's value
and filled the boxes.

tumbling over each other's sentences whatever the discussion
Satan and God and Jesus and Adam and Eve.

"It's all about attitude. Not facts.
It's all about how you react to the facts."

She thought about this old house and the building of it.
The contractor had to be home for his wedding.

He always parked his truck leaning sidewise just off the highway.
Betraying his way of thinking.

And then he died. In her arms, after breakfast one day.

Diagnosis

2009-11-19T09:37:00.000-08:00

Diagnosis
by Sharon Olds

By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She’s doing it now! Look!
She’s doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

Sharon Olds teaches creative writing at New York University and lives in an apartment on the Upper West Side, where she sits in a rocking chair with a view of the Hudson River and writes poems. She begins writing, she says, when "a poem has formed itself, or its beginning, within me, and it's time to get a pen and notebook and sit over there on the rocking chair next to the window and try to bring forth that which is within."

Blogging

2009-11-18T12:24:00.000-08:00

The most difficult thing about a blog is doing it.
Ask any blogger. "I can't think of anything to say".
It's true. Especially if you live a boring life.
I have a friend who's very busy. She's writing a novel. She does good works and volunteers in her community. She looks after her mother. In fact, she just cleaned out her Mom's old apartment, sold it, and moved her Mom into a new apartment! She looks after a big yard and house. She's famous for her cooking. She paints. She's a dynamo.
She blogs. Quickly. Give this girl one word, and she can write a complete essay in 20 minutes.
But for the rest of us - "let's see - what has excited me about life recently." We go from there.
If you read "How To"s about blogging they encourage us to do it. Just do it. Do it often. Don't angst about it. Sit down and write a sentence. Then another one. Then another one. Don't fool around with it a lot. Click "Publish" and then repeat the next day.
If it's a bit rugged, no matter, it's a learning process.
Those of us who love to write use it in lots of different ways. It can be a good "listener". Something on your mind? Something bothering you - nagging at you? Write it down. Pretend you're talking to a friend. Pour out your soul. You'd be surprised at how it cleans out the corners of your mind.
I get a daily Almanac about writers. What they wrote. How they wrote it. When they got it published and what happened after. I start every day with this Almanac. It has given me a great respect for people who write.

Buddhists

2009-11-15T17:10:00.000-08:00

I was talking to a friend about that famous book "The Power of Now". My friend said that the basis of Erik Tolle's philosopy is Buddhist. I wondered. This afternoon I read a long complicated article about it and was fascinated. Then I found an 81 minute video article on my "Speaking of Faith" web site - Matthieu Ricard was the guy being interviewed - very likeable and clever. I think a lot of physicists become Buddhists, because the philosophy seems to involve physics - stuff like the universe, and quarks, and grains of sand and everything in life interconnecting. He looks like the Dali Lama, and has been called the "happiest man in the world". He is embarrassed by this label and says it's completely unscientific and no one should pay any attention. But it has something to do with the amount of time he has spent meditating - something like 10,000 hours. He's involved with a society that is studying meditation and the brain to see if the first is making any difference to the second. He is one of the guinea pigs. So the engineers said to him "How long before you are really meditating?" They were trying to figure out how much time would be involved in getting their stats. "Mmmm. Maybe 30 seconds. In deep by 1 minute tops". I was stunned to hear him say that. My problem with meditating is trying to get the brain to stop thinking. Your brain wants to think. All the time. Except when sleeping. So most of my time seems to be spent saying to my brain "are you back thinking again? You are not supposed to think. So. Let's start again and for heaven's sake - pay attention!"
The Dali Lama seems like a happy guy. And Mr. Ricard and the Dali Lama apparently spend a lot of time together. He tells the story about a muddy road with bricks placed to walk over it. How people whined and wailed about it. "We burst out laughing - then managed to hip hop over it in great delight. We travel a lot, and it's just part of the day".
I just Googled Matthieu. He's all over the place!

Media babies

2009-11-11T17:36:00.000-08:00

A nephew and his wife have their first baby.
Within 24 hours of the birth we receive a clear, close-up piece of video showing this wee babe in his crib. He opens his eyes and blinks the odd time. He stretches his little arms and legs. He sneezes. We gather round the computer and watch every second with much oh-ing and ah-ing. He's small, born early, and with issues. So it's been exciting to see this little guy that we've been cheering on for so many months. The next day we watch again on our computers as the Mom gets to hold and snuggle her wee baby for the first time!

Another family member had a first baby this summer. Once again, we see pictures of Mom, Dad and babe within hours of the birth. On FaceBook, we have seen countless little pieces of video as this baby girl has grown. In fact the little baby has already signed up with Facebook!

I talked with a friend just the other day. "You wouldn't believe it - we see her learning to sit, learning to make noises, even her first giggle. Yes, there are many pictures, too, but when it's a baby, it's very special when the pictures come to life. Sound is a much more important element than most folks know." This little girl has seen a camera so many times, she will never think it the least bit intrusive or threatening. And what a thrill for relatives and friends who may live far away. With just a click, they get to watch intimate little slices of life of their loved one - and they can watch over and over again.

I wonder. I wonder if being a media baby will make these kids different. I wonder if being photographed and told to "look up" and "turn around" and "walk over there" will make these kids more confident. Will they grow up being able to look down the barrel of a camera without a flinch. Are we raising future actors, anchor men, film stars, models, movie producers? It's powerful stuff. The image. The voice. The movement. This is not museum stuff. This is life in full color and sound. Life as it's going by. In fact, yesterday's footage is already history, and the audience is waiting for the next update.

Web sites like Facebook are called social networking sites. A good name. Because that's what they do. It's like the town square of another time. Folks gather together to chat and visit - get caught up on the latest gossip and comings and goings of their communities. Families get to see pictures of their loved ones, a baby taking it's first step, a new sofa, a trip to a far away place - it's all there. We know a lot more about each other than we used to. In most cases, it's good. Just friends and family staying in touch.

And you know what? I'm going to keep track of those media babies - you never know.

Hats

2009-11-05T12:25:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about hats lately. Caps would be a better word.
Hats mean dressing up. And who dresses up any more! Except for Queen Elizabeth. At one point, I couldn't believe that any person on the planet could come out in public with a hat like this.
But what the heck - her public expects it.

Enter Camilla Parker Bowles. This lady doesn't have to take a back seat to the Queen!

Milliners (is that what they call people who design hats?) must make big money in Britain. Who the heck are they? How come we don't know? Princess Diana certainly ignored hats. Mind you, she was drop dead gorgeous.
(whoops - poor choice of words)

The Aritha Franklins of the world can wear the most outrageous hats with complete aplomb. Mind you, if you can sing like her, you can pretty well do what you want.

Right now I have about 10 ball caps. Not enough. I went through a phase of putting socks in my ball caps - to fill up the empty spaces. But one day the wind blew the cap and a pair of socks all over the 6th green - way too embarrassing. I also have 2 of those new "military" looking caps, one of which I wear quite a lot. Not necessarily on the golf course, either. Military type caps look like this - mine is a "Puma" in dark brown.

I've been looking at another hat style. Hmmmm. It's not that I don't have the nerve - anyone who puts socks in her golf cap.
I wonder if I could pull it off.

Now then - does anyone know where I can get a pair of those sun glasses?

golf

2009-11-02T18:24:00.001-08:00

What is it about the game of golf
The passion the "hold" it takes on you
I wish I could fashion more graciously more amenable
to the space in my head that I've assigned it to.
When nothing goes right I blame my partner
my bad back, my menopause, my putter
I furtively look over my shoulder to make sure
the party behind us is ignoring what's ahead
Not saying to each other - look at that! she hasn't hit a good one yet
She needs to get a grip on this game or quit it;

Shorten your back swing I tell myself
Don't try to hit the ball so hard
Keep your head down Keep your head down
You might as well give up if you can't keep your head down
It's all about the golf gods we laugh with the others
It's all about the golf gods as they strike you down for
making that perfect shot. They allow perfect rarely
as if they weren't paying attention
So that you think they've gone for lunch
And your ball sails right into a huge sand trap.

Baseball

2009-11-01T18:15:00.000-08:00

I love the World Series.
It goes back a long time. When we little girls, in small town Saskatchewan, the World Series was big stuff.
Back then, they were often on Labor Day weekend. And this was the weekend for cleaning windows at our house.
With the radio blaring as loud as it would go, everyone both inside and outside cleaned windows and listened to the World Series. By game 2, we had all the names down pat. And we knew who we were cheering for.
Mel Allen was the play by play guy. He knew everything, and we would have trusted him with our lives. Friendly and confident, his big voice "welcome to the World Series" sent shivers down our spines. As things heated up, we'd scream with delight or moan with frustration, but at every moment we were having the time of our lives.
I remember listening to the World Series in school one year! In the classroom!
Tonight, I'm still having the time of my life. Big HDTV. Surround sound. A Mel Allen sound-alike.
A baseball going 95 miles per hour. On the re-play, I see the label on the ball turning and turning as it slowly enters the glove of the catcher. For the first time I'm seeing the different ways that a pitcher can manipulate a ball. It's fascinating.
Thousands of people booing or cheering - a sea of sound - a baseball game sound.
"There's not a shorter leash in baseball than he's got him on right now" An on-air comment by the color guy. Great command of the English language. Great theatre, Great athletics.
What could be more "American" than the World Series of baseball.

All Hallow's Eve

2009-10-31T09:41:00.001-07:00

It's Halloween, one of the oldest holidays in the Western European tradition, invented by the Celts, who believed Halloween was the day of the year when spirits, ghosts, faeries, and goblins walked the earth. The tradition of dressing up and getting candy probably started with the Celts as well. Historians believe that they dressed up as ghost and goblins to scare away the spirits, and they would put food and wine on their doorstep for the spirits of family members who had come back to visit the home.

All Hallow's Eve -
Is that the way it's said?
All I know about the Eve is that I don't have one thing for any of those "trick or treaters" that may come calling.

Looks like a good day though. Very sunny so far and sunny for 5 days.

I've been reading that Halloween is becoming more and more popular! I'm not sure what part of it. My guess would be the "pretending to be something" part of it. I think we like that.
Ever notice that costume parties are always sort of "let loose" "let it all hang out" affairs?
If we can wear a mask, we gain all kinds of confidence, and a normally shy person becomes quite different. It's fun.

I got my grandson one of those "hatchet through the head" touques. When you tug it on your head, the hatchet sits up as if you'd just been - well - knocked off. Had an ambivalent feeling about it afterwards. The world has become a bit scary - and we can't be funny that way any more.
Sad.
All Hallow's Eve. Mmmmmmm. I'll have to Google that one before the day is out.

Well. Agenda.

A big new TV with surround sound and HD quality. Favorite football team plays at 11 o'clock. Then a World Series game at 4:30 - Philadelphia Phillies and New York Yankees are tied at one game apiece. Then a hockey game at 6:30!

I don't know what'll happen tomorrow!

And so . . . . . . .

2009-10-28T10:12:00.000-07:00

All we have in our house is a grande piano, a rug, and a lot of silence.
It's amazing how quiet it can be without a TV. For the guy, life is depressing.
So here we sit at our kitchen counter, drinking coffee, and reading poetry.
Strangely enough, the washing machine is running - far off in an upstairs room.
The furniture store has promised chairs tomorrow. "Just think! A football game and a chair on Saturday afternoon!"
After 30 years in one house - starting from scratch has been a bit of a stretch. I would recommend doing this no later than 65. Ironing board, garbage can, baking sheet, shower curtain. Sometimes we forget that we've already bought something and end up with 2 of them.
Today, I stared at one of those labels that say

"This tag not to be removed except by the consumer"

I'm angry. I paid $69.95 each for 2 very fancy bed cushions. There are three labels attached to each cushion - sewn right into the seam!
I decide to leave this project to a later date. I go to Google:

You'll need a surgical seam ripper and a steady hand!
Very carefully, cut the tag just alongside the seam stitching. If you are dexterous enough, you should be able to pull the remaining tag piece off the other side. If not, use the blade and a pair of tweezers and carve little pieces off until you get it all.

This whole tags on anything with stuffing in scenario sounds like something from the dark ages. I know people who wouldn't think of taking off these tags!
We do the strangest things.

DameElizabeth

2009-10-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

I'm part of the Elizabeth Taylor generation.
I'm also part of the "Twitter" generation.
So when I heard that Elizabeth had "twittered" about her recent heart surgery, I went on the search.
And there she was!
DameElizabeth - "Dear Friends, My heart procedure went off perfectly. It's like having a brand new ticker. Thank you for your prayers and good wishes."

When I googled this, I found a great shot of an elderly Elizabeth Taylor.
She was the most beautiful woman in the world as a popular actress when she was young. And she played many roles very well. Her role as a young girl, earnest and dedicated, was every bit as good as her role as a high class hooker. She never took herself seriously.
It's been said that her strongest role was playing the perfect celebrity. She knew the press. She knew her public. And she had both of them in the palm of her hand. Still does as noted by the "twitter" above.

http://twitter.com/DAMEELIZABETH

Movin' On - Where's the Kleenex?

2009-10-20T20:21:00.000-07:00

Quick thought.
Last week we had a "Wow" moment.
Where's the Kleenex? For years we've reached for the Kleenex as soon as we started our breakfast. Runny noses.
And driving. The first thing Merv would reach for was a Kleenex. Runny nose.
And other occasions - too many of them - runny noses.
Last week at breakfast, he said "It has just dawned on me that we don't use Kleenex any more!"
Our eyes got wide. We both talked at once. "It's right! We don't have runny noses anymore!"
How did we miss this? We just hadn't clicked into it. So.
Two possibilities. Dry air in Alberta. Or allergic elements in our wooden house on the farm. Perhaps both.
We've had 2 grandsons who have both had allergic reactions to the farm house as years have gone by. I think that's a good indication of the second possibility. But also we are in a much more humid environment here, so that should be considered.
Whatever. We use a lot less Kleenex than we used to.
Anyone got opinions?

Movin' On - last strokes

2009-10-19T09:44:00.000-07:00

Moving into new digs? Highly over-rated.
No salt.
No Toilet paper.
No garbage can.
No peanut butter.
Where's the list of "things to buy" - rumpled and usually lost and we can't find a pencil.
There's an "echo" in the main floor - a couple of weak lamps trying to cheer us up.
Don't need an ISP! These townhouses are so close together, we're just using everyone else's.
First night in new beds worked good. Slept and slept and slept.
Unpacked the few boxes we'd saved from our old life. Threw out a lot of stuff. ("What the hell did I save that for?")
Went golfing in an unexpected glorious afternoon. Played so bad we got the giggles.
It felt strange last night to walk back and forth from #12 to # 8. The street lights shining down through the red leaves of the little trees. Red and yellow leaves strewn everywhere.
#12 is ready for maid service. Looks just like it did when we moved in.
#8 needs a lot of work. A lot of work.
So we're heading out. Let's see. Home Outfitters. I guess that's where we'll start.
Now where's that list?

Movin' On - Discovery

2009-10-13T23:39:00.000-07:00

Life is a strange thing.
Years and years living beside the river. Watching the trees grow big and stately. Watching the deer and the antelope play.
and then - driving away. Packing it all up and driving down the country road. To parts unknown.
Strange. Not just the doing of it. But the living of it.
Strange new towns and people. Strange new smells and air and sounds.
New golf courses and new food.
New weather and sunsets and oceans.
Somehow or other we never think about where we came from or where we're going.
We don't wonder about the old house. We don't wonder about the river.
We never even think about that life.
We start each day as if it were the first day.
Just as easily as that.
No big deal. No tossing and turning. No angsting about the past. No sobbing into pillows.
A day at a time. Smile at the sun. Hug the good mornings. Yawn the good nights.
We still have down days. We still have nights where sleep is scarce.
We still have disagreements. We still have spaces that are still.
But we forge ahead with vigor. We mostly feel enriched.
Will this last?

Movin' On - Grace

2009-10-08T22:13:00.001-07:00

Nine years ago our daughter invited us to the birth of her baby.
So when the phone rings on a Friday evening - "The baby is coming. It's time to gather" - we hit the road - takes 90 minutes.
Jeff greets us. "Nancy's having a bath", he says. "Go on downstairs and make yourselves comfortable." I can tell he's a bit nervous - as usual with dads, not sure where he is going to fit in. But Jeff and Nancy have always wanted to get away from the hospital thing when having babies. Nancy was frustrated there, and could hardly wait to get home.
It's cosy and warm. A huge bed, fresh and white.
Nancy hears us. "I'll be with you in a sec. It won't be long now."
There are 4 older children in this family. The two older children are part of the gathering. The younger two are asleep.
The eldest is Amy and Ben is next. He's quieter than usual, perhaps apprehensive. These things are easy to handle when they're in the future. But now with the time at hand - we are all in new territory. We are all somewhat unnerved, somewhat tentative. Amy is the ultimate greeter, happy to see us and to talk about what's been happening in her life.
Nancy has been in labor for a few hours.
She settles into the big bed, the midwife checks with her often - they are getting along just fine, and we like her air of confidence and cheeriness. Grandpa is restless and disappears upstairs. "Hey Grandpa - are you checking the stock market again on the computer?"
"I'll be right back" he says to me, giving my hand a squeeze.
We move back and forth for awhile, and when Nancy becomes more intent on the job at hand, we settle down throughout the room, on the floor, on the stairs, on the sofa. Although her labor is short - it's not without its share of discomfort and pain - Jeff holds her as she goes through the final struggles.
Suddenly, we see the baby's head - there's a big "Whoo" !!
And then the baby is all there - just like that - it happens that fast - a little girl, lying there on her mummy's tummy, her wee hands close together. Not a cry from her.
The midwife wraps her and puts her close to her Mom. We gather round with lots of talking and tears, hugs and handshakes. It's over and it's just the way her Mom and Dad wanted it to be. Nancy is radiant now and relieved, laughing in delight, holding her little one close as she hugs her children. The third child Susie has awoken and made her way downstairs to find a new baby sister there! She's all smiles and can't keep her eyes off this new baby. Amy is completely overwhelmed. "I don't want to ever have a baby" she laughs. Ben? You know, I have to admit that I haven't caught up to that one yet. Some day perhaps -.
Meanwhile the babe sleeps in her mother's arms. We all hang over her and pull the blankets apart and peer and peek and stare and touch her soft face. "Look at her! How perfect is that!"
Grace. Her name is Grace Elizabeth.
She's nine years old today. Happy birthday, Grace, Happy Birthday.

Movin' On - Buying a bed

2009-10-02T07:47:00.000-07:00

We have no furniture. We decide that the first thing to buy is a bed.
Beds are changing. Gone is the foot stool that we needed to get into our bed at night. No more huge boxsprings. No more mile high mattresses with soft top on top of soft top. No more bedskirts. We're back down to earth. The platform bed. Headboard attached to wooden bed-form with four sturdy legs. Lots of slats to support the mattress.
The Bay, Sears, the Brick, LazyBoy do not have platform beds.
Pier 1, Urban Barn, Hudson Madison. No luck.
"We may have to start with the mattress and sleep on it for awhile".
Sleep Country has one platform bed. But they have a lot of mattresses and we get a quick lesson in hard, medium and soft.
"Are there any furniture stores in this area?" we ask.
"You could try "John's Bed Barn." We put this address into our GPS. (God bless GPS).
Most of their beds are the platform design so they are right on the mark. "The Sleep Country guy sent us here", we said. "Yes, he's very good at doing that. We really appreciate it".
As we're getting back in the car, we notice another furniture place next door. Nothing prepares us for what we find when we open the front door.
The place is massive and yet tastefully filled with gorgeous furniture! We spend an hour and a half here, and see many things we like - including beds.
Nanaimo/Parksville are very good at supporting local products. In fact, in many places (like the "Bed Barn") they take orders for products, and get the local builders to make them. The customer can't expect the product for at least 6 weeks.
This is not the case in the furniture store I just mentioned. You're welcome to whatever is on the floor and at quite worthy sale prices (although even their sale prices are hefty) I'm wondering if they have the support of the other furniture people. Perhaps their furniture is not "local" enough.
We found another great store. Some stunning pieces and all of them surrounded by bras, panties, and fine clothing! I kid you not. They sell both of these lines of goods and display them side by each in a delightful space. She's from Turkey and designs shoes. She will also come to a home and offer design ideas.
At any rate, that's my update. We're not sure about everyone's "Oh, you'll likely have to shop in Victoria" advice. We don't feel this will be the case.
So far.

Movin' On - Just about there!

2009-09-29T19:19:00.000-07:00

We are close to the final details. Finally, we will have a home.
A townhouse on a short avenue and tiny street in downtown Parksville.
It took us 3 months to do this. But we think we've made the right decision.
Our "pros" and "cons" lists kept coming back to this place - over and over again the pros were longer than any other place we considered. We ignored the signals for several weeks. One day the realtor who looks after these units said "Did you say you needed a place to rent for a while? One of the units here is available".
So we ended up moving into this tiny street. We've been here for a month. And we like it.
So we're buying the unit at the end - Number 8.
There are only 14 townhouses and we will be living in Number 8. No one has lived in Number 8 before.
So after "Movin' On" for all these weeks - we've finally stopped. and we'll be "Movin' In".
I don't know what I'm going to talk about now.

Movin' On - AGM 2009

2009-09-27T17:02:00.000-07:00

"4 Spades".
"Going for game! Good for you!"
We play out on the deck from late afternoon until the sun sets. The weather is quite astonishing for September. "We've had nothing like this all summer long, and now that the Park is closing down, it's coming to us a little late" they tell us.
Playing bridge is a big part of our day, and to be able to play it outdoors in the sunshine surrounded by lush forest and chattering birds - it's great.
There's 4 of us. We've been meeting every year for a long time. We call it the "AGM". Our Mom used to be part of the group until she died. Then we stretched out a bit - New York, Boston, even Costa Rica one year.
"You're so lucky to be such good friends" folks say. "Four sisters! What could be better!"
We love to talk - start with the first cup of coffee and continue non-stop until bed-time. An article the other day said that sisters are inclined to repeat the same conversations quite cheerfully, never tiring of the story line. But we wade in on everything. Why the Anglican church in Canada is struggling - should we still be in Afghanistan? " OPRAH had him on her show and I was impressed" and "has anyone ever seen Tiger Woods' wife?"
The big weekend Crossword puzzle doesn't have a chance with this crowd. Other golf course foursomes wonder what we had for lunch. Ladies wear shops are instant fashion shows. And have you ever bought a large bottle of Scotch and a box of red wine in the Hardware store on main street?
We talk about our kids and our grandchildren, our husbands, and our diets. Books we've read, friends we've met, emergencies we've lived through, and the latest episode of "Coronation Street".
The weather is so warm we have to buy more shirts and shorts. We even do the lake cruise and tease the good looking captain of the ship.
The days spin away too quickly. We talk about what we'll do for 2010 - about getting old and still wanting to dance the night away.
We hug each other and wave goodbye.
"See you next year!"

Movin' On -"living over Subway"

2009-09-21T19:43:00.000-07:00

We were in the middle of Saskatchewan at nightfall. Went through little town after little town.
"What kind of bad planning is this?" we say to each other.
One motel in each little town. Sometimes not even a sandwich available. And worse still - no Internet!!!!!!
"Let's try one more town" he says "if there's nothing, we're in trouble".
The lights from far away are hopeful. "Hey, there's a billboard for a Subway! Maybe this will work".
It does. We slowly drive the little main street. There's a motel! And after just a half block, there it is! A Subway!
The lights are brightly shining. No one in the place, but as we approach, we see 2 young girls through the front window with their jaunty Subway hats. We're happy cats.
Her name is "Molly" and she's just as sweet as you would expect - red hair and all.
She's perfectly okay with our "little of this and little of that" order. "And 2 of those cookies".
As we're paying, he asks her "How's that motel down the street?"
"Okay, I guess. I haven't been there that much. It's not as good as our room upstairs."
"You've got a room upstairs? What do you mean?"
"Just turn to the left outside the door - turn to the right and it's upstairs."
Two queen size beds in a huge room, a big big bathroom with tub and shower - wow, we're sold.
Back downstairs she says "I have to call my boss. He'll give me the rate, and the details."
The rate is great! The credit card goes through and in minutes, we're in this gorgeous "room above 'Subway' in the middle of nowhere Saskatchewan".
And the Internet? Right there! Fast, strong, and connected.
When you're "on the road" you appreciate the small unexpected mercies of travel.

(Jann Arden's first album was called "Living under June". She was in a rented basement owned by a girl name June)

Movin' On - Beer on sale

2009-09-10T22:24:00.000-07:00

We usually lunch at a golf course. It's quiet. It's on a golf course. We like the environment.
When the weather is lousy - we look elsewhere.
On "resort road" we find a good pub. In fact one day they were selling everything at half price. All the beer and all the "appies" (appetizers) at half price.
"Oh yes, every Wednesday we sell everything here in the pub at half price".
The other day we can't find a golf course that isn't booked so I say "Hey, it's Wednesday! Let's go for lunch!"
Things are pretty quiet at first. We get a good table, the US Open is on the TV, we order the beer and "appies" - 2 orders of the expensive prawns.
People suddenly start pouring into this little pub! Chairs moving around. People talking tennis. People waving "Hey Bob, over here! we'll find a chair!" Seems every time I look away from my tennis game, another 2 couples are walking in.
The kitchen appears every once in a while with "watch it - it's hot! dishes" but none of them are ours.
It happens again. "Who ordered the chicken wings? Okay sir, here's the first, we've bringing the second order right away".
We're not happy.
"Yes sir - very sorry - what was your order? Mussels? They're on their way".
"No, we ordered the prawns".
"Ah yes, right away, sir".
People are looking for a place to sit, new girls are appearing to wait on the tables, "frantic" is not too strong a word.
The kitchen arrives with our food. Shrimp and mussels. We don't say a word. We are happy. The chicken wings table even cheers when we get our food. And it's good. We love the mussels especially, and we're glad they made a mistake.
"The beer is free" she says, "I'm sorry for the long wait".
The bill was $8 !!!!!

Movin' On - scrambled eggs

2009-09-06T13:43:00.000-07:00

I was reading over some old mail. Came across a letter I sent to a friend. "We're looking at real estate in Sydney because we've decided we want to live here".
So much for "decisions".
It's Sunday afternoon in Parksville. Just finished a delicious late breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast.
He made the scrambled eggs. I've noticed that he's also started making the coffee. His coffee needed a lot of work, but he's been persistent and now his coffee tastes good.
His scrambled eggs were momentous, though! I'm thinking seriously of encouraging his kitchen exploits. I think he's got a cooking gene that's just starting to kick in.
Anyway - as I said - we're in Parksville. We're staying in a rented townhouse - very comfortable. It's on a little street with young green trees growing just as high as the 4 streetlights. Maybe 14 units here. Quite small.
It's so close to the downtown of Parksville that it could be considered "down town". 10 minute walk to the ocean beach. 4 minutes to the local pub - and the hair salon - and the little dress shop - and our bank.
Our realtor lives 2 doors down. He's renting while selling the units here (also going through some sort of personal adjustment), working his other properties, and running a business in Alberta with a partner. We were able to get this rental because of him. He put us in touch with the owner in Edmonton.
A month ago we drove by here on a Saturday afternoon and noticed the "Show Suite" sign. We got the tour, liked what we saw even back then - and he's been helping us ever since.
The interesting thing about this place is that there is an empty one just like it next door!
Although this would be the most unlikely choice - we're thinking about it.
The other day a friend said something that resonated. "So what if you make a mistake? Sell the place and move on! This is not the end of the world".