Tuesday, December 29, 2009


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.

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!

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

"AVATAR"


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!"

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

the Tiger saga


"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?

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Desert life



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.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Dream


"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.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

"the poor little thing!"


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.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Breakfast at Denny's

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.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Update on hotel beds


"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!

Monday, November 23, 2009

Big Brother


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.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Garbage


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

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.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Diagnosis



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."

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Blogging


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.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Buddhists


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!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Media babies


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.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Hats

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?

Monday, November 2, 2009

golf

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.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Baseball



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.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

All Hallow's Eve



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!

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

And so . . . . . . .



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.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

DameElizabeth


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

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Movin' On - Where's the Kleenex?

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?

Monday, October 19, 2009

Movin' On - last strokes

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?

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Movin' On - Discovery




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?

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Movin' On - Grace


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.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Movin' On - Buying a bed

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.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Movin' On - Just about there!



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.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Movin' On - AGM 2009




"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!"

Monday, September 21, 2009

Movin' On -"living over Subway"

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)

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Movin' On - Beer on sale

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 !!!!!

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Movin' On - scrambled eggs

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".

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Movin' On - back to the search


Whew! A busy week on the road. Great to see family and friends, and the old hometown.
But it takes energy and dedication.
It's seems easy to chat and laugh and enjoy the glass of wine. But it comes with a cost. We move more slowly than we used to and we have to push ourselves on to the next destination.
Lots of fun showing off the new car. To go from driving a beat-up over-sized SUV to this small, sleek black-on-black beauty is a big rush. Lots of sun so the top is down and we drive like this for hours and hours. Satellite radio too, so there's lots of music and talk. Amazingly it's easy to hear all this stuff no matter the traffic noise. A guy in a truck stops in the lane beside us in a downtown B.C. town "Hey, great wheels! This model is so new it's the first time I've seen it. Thinking of getting one. How do you like it?" GPS still hasn't been used in the proper way. Haven't had time to study it, but the mapping itself is fun to use, we spend a lot of discussion on it - even take out the book!!!!!
We take different and longer routes - see huge and stunning rivers and lakes we've never seen before. This is a country of great beauty and wonder. How often do we appreciate this land of ours? How often do we appreciate our freedom - the miracle of living here?
We have to get back to the business of finding a new home here. But we need to play too, so we find a golf course that is happy to see us. The walking and walking and walking feels wonderful.
On the way home, another son calls to say they're coming to see our new digs and check out the new car!
"We'll have a barbeque!"

Monday, August 31, 2009

Movin' On - summer party




















What could be finer than a family party on a warm evening in the summertime! The excited teenager celebrating a birthday and a graduation surrounded by all her friends. Proud Mom and Dad with a speech and a presentation. Tears and laughter in measured amounts, hugs with cameras flashing, even the dog can't stop wagging his tail. The teenage boys play on the front yard letting off steam. The wee baby waddles about trying to pick up the bubbles gushing out of the wands in the back yard. Late in the evening, the music gets louder and the moms and dads move outside again to sit by the bonfire.
Doesn't get much better than this.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Movin' On - "fractional ownership"

It's in the "Resort" part of town. Very big and grand. Somehow we'd missed it. And we're desperate.
Nowhere to stay and the town has "no vacancy" signs everywhere.
Wow! The lobby is enormous - in a steel and concrete sort of way - a huge covered patio out the back. Other folks are in the same muddle and there is a crowd around the desk.
The rooms are also big and grand. High ceilings, deep colors, fireplace, suede sofa with fancy matching throw. I notice the designer label - from Calgary, even the address! I love this throw and keep picking it up and putting it down.
He loves the huge granite counter with one of those huge rectangular sinks. Fancy range with ceramic top, lots of white square dishes and fully equipped kitchen drawers with doo-dads of every use imaginable. On the private patio outside, the barbeque is all ready to go. Open a tall cupboard and a beautiful set of those small Maytag washers and dryers which we happen to need right away. The bathroom? Thick glass shower, big, with all kinds of spray attachments for a guy who loves toys like this. For her, a luxury bathtub with fancy spray attachments, too, and lots of counter space around one of those new bowl sinks. Well!
"I wonder if we could buy this room" he says.
Next day we find out that we can. "Fractional Ownership". We follow the signs to their "show suite" and salesman Cheryl tells us that she herself has "fractional ownership" of the very room we are staying in.
"I can't afford a lot, but I have 1/8 ownership of that room. I can use it for 1/8 of a year. But for me, that's not the main thing. For me, it's the "trade" factor. I can go to other big hotels (next week, I'm going to Las Vegas) and get my room for free. So my boyfriend and I will use the room occasionally, or let friends use it as a gift, perhaps.
The show suite, by the way, is also gorgeous (if you like the big, bold, "in your face" presentation).
"Most of this resort has "fractional ownership" possibilities. And there is also 4 large suites that are for outright sale. They're over there in the centre, right close to where the pool is going to be. I believe one of them will be empty tomorrow and I could show it to you".
It's great. We like it. It's completely furnished - part of the price. And the price is very reasonable, and there's no GST. Owned by one of the "developers" here, he's moving to Belize to work on another Resort development there.
We stay here more than once. It's high season and they're doing lots of business. We chat with Cheryl here and there. She gives me a hair stylist referral, puts us in touch with the "strata" president so we can ask him some questions about the suite she has shown us.
As all this is happening, we ponder this place. There's a suspicious air of inactivity here. Not any "building" happening. We go downstairs every morning to the fancy "coffee" room where guests can drink coffee, read the paper and watch the news - a sort of "get out of from under" alternative - very clever. (and free Vancouver Sun/Globe & Mail every day) Here we see one of those under-glass three dimensional plans for the resort. Whew! They've got a ways to go if they intend to do all these grand things.
We ask questions of realtors, and find out that this place has already failed once, that the Resort people picked it up for a good price and that for whatever reason the place just didn't seem to "meld" with the community. Mind you, this would be from the realtor's standpoint, and they could be considered "the competition" perhaps.
At any rate, it's another example of the innovative ways that people are finding to spend their vacation dollars.
We're still watching this place. If only they'd get rid of that huge yellow "show suite" balloon - so tacky.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Movin' On - Car Pickup




"Sir, I have some good news for you. Your car has arrived from Japan, and is ready to meet you."
Part of the "Movin' On" format - a black on black convertible! Two old people who have driven one of the larger SUV's for several years - this is going to be one of the bigger adjustments to be made. "Have we shot ourselves in the foot?"
It also requires a trip back to Alberta for a short spell. A break from house hunting, except for another inspection tomorrow morning.
"We're getting closer" he said at breakfast. "We just have to check out that other unit - could be what we're looking for".
"Do you think our real estate agent figures we find something wrong with everything? Seems to me that we're telling him to get the papers ready one minute, and the next we're backing out. He'll be glad to have a break from us."
So here's the deal. This car can barely manage 2 sets of golf clubs, we're told, and I think the luggage has to go in the back seat. We are going to have to re-adjust our way of travel by giant steps. "Travel light" sounds easy.
We re-assessed this morning. Left our home on June 26th so it's been about 2 months. I think our brains have just assumed that we're on a longish holiday, and that everything will be back to normal soon. We never talk about the farm. We never talk about the future except in very general terms. We get up every morning, and take the day as it presents itself.
"You don't have a home?!" people say. "That must feel very strange. What a brave thing to do!"
Mmmmmmm. If I had known it was a "brave thing to do", I probably wouldn't have had the courage to do it.
In any case, realtors tell us it's much easier to shop for a house when you're finished with the last one.
"We show them lots of stuff, and then find out that they have to go back and sell their house first. The way you're doing it makes a lot more sense."
At any rate, after trying to adjust to new computers - we're now going to have to adjust to another vehicle - a much much smaller vehicle at that. It should make for interesting conversations to say the least.
"You're taking that in the car? Where on earth are you going to put it?"
"Look, we can pack 2 outfits, that's it, so let's get with the program and stop whining".
Ah, togetherness -

Friday, August 21, 2009

Movin' On - Down on the beach


A fine day. We head for the beach.
Big. Big. The beach here is really big. We're told it's better than California beaches. The tide is more benign or something and the sand remains clean and soft.
Seems like half the town and all of the tourists have bought into this. Hundreds. Kids with their shovels and kites and frisbies. Moms and Dads with their coolers and umbrellas. Oldsters with canes and wheelchairs. Grey heads in convertibles and fancy hats.
Big cement picnic tables.
"Look, see that family packing up? Let's see how long it takes".
The last plate is packed away. The last hat is donned. The last mouth is wiped. And suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a huge family appears. Lawn chairs and blankets get smacked down right close to the picnic table. One little camera gets put in the centre and it's theirs! Such is the politics of the beach.
People watching is my lifeblood. I can get more joy out of this pastime than anyone. And here - on this beach - it's one giddy sensation after the other. No newspaper for me. No poetry or Ipod or sand castles. Snapping the odd photo is about as far as I go. I decide I need the "long shot" of the beach with the town behind. Light is right. Angle requires a bit of a walk. Away we go getting sand in the sandles - (where are the crocs and the flip-flops when you need 'em).
We try this and that - but it's not what I'm keen about, and we plop back down again to finish the coffee.
"Look at the Dad - isn't he something! And the little boy - he's a treasure".
"Wow - the sweet young things! We've gotta do this more often", he says.
An elderly man with 2 canes. Youngish woman - tanned and blond. He's struggling to walk. They settle onto a bench. Stay for a half hour there. Talking a bit and smiling. He's loving it. When they get up to leave, he's hesitant. Takes a few steps, and then stands for a minute. She is quiet beside him, not saying anything. Just there. Then he goes on again.
2 crows hang around in a small tree. Every time a piece of food appears, they watch closely talking back and forth.
The huge tree trunks that have found their way here - many of them make a perfect bench - gnarled and weather beaten in dramatically beautiful designs - probably painted a million times. Nature has a way of outclassing us all when it comes to originality.
How easy it is here. How easy in this little town to spend a day with your family at the beach.
The ocean calls to us in some way. The ocean and the sand. The sun and the breeze.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Movin' On - Yah - but where?

Okay. We've been looking at stuff. A lot of stuff. We've been confused by the amount of real estate that's out here. But after a while, we've decided that for what we "respond to", there's a limited amount of choices.
So we make a major move and put in an official "Bid" on a house we like. We feel it's a good bid - a "market value" bid based on our studies of comparatives.
She doesn't like it. She thinks it's way too low, and she wants what she asked for to start with.
We object.
Silence.
Then she says she'll vacate the house a month earlier than we asked! We ask the realtor - "what does this mean? Is she saying she'll bust her ass to get out of her house as long as we'll pay her what she wants?"
He's not sure.
In the meantime, we meet a completely new place - a downtown Parksville place - a cosy, elegant, little spot that would suit us perfectly. Not grand. Not fancy. Not on a golf course. Not in a rain forest. But brand spanking new, at an exceptional price, and just as sweet as can be.
So this is where we are.
Our new realtor has other sights to see tomorrow.
Stay tuned.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Movin' On - Ferry living

It's part of the territory. If you live on an island, you take ferries all the time.
There's a lot of difference between taking a big ferry and taking a little ferry. A ton of difference.
Follow the signs to the little ferry, and eventually you find yourself in a lineup of cars, trucks, vans, semi's, everything. Lots of doors are open, people are wandering up and down the road looking for a coffee, getting some exercise, checkin' the lay of the land.
"Hey, do you think we'll get on? How many units can this ferry take?"
"Ya know - it seems to me it always takes more than it looks like it will take. You'll be surprised".
Sometimes, there's a little parking lot where you line up. And there might be a frisbee game going on. Or a group of boys doing soccer moves with a tiny ball instead of a soccer ball, showing off their shoulder shots, knee shots, back of the foot shots. The girls all hang together and giggle and screech and chase each other, their hair whirling about them, and their flip flops trying to keep up with frantic dashes to nowhere.
After we board the ferry, we're lined up so tight, the side mirrors have to be turned in so people can get past.
The big ferry journey is all business. Huge departure lots, huge ferries.
"Thank you, sir. You'll be in line 47".
Once again, windows go down, newspapers appear, the whole family heads for the coffee shop or the lunch shop, or the handicraft place that sells earrings and key rings, picture holders and ceramic mugs. Conversations develop over dogs, politics, taxes, and Obama. The vehicle lines get filled up, new lines start and when the huge ferry appears, everyone slowly heads back to their car. Loading is precise. A casual wave of a hand is enough - somehow everyone knows where they should go. It's a testament to the human spirit that we have managed to do this so well with so few mix-ups.
We park, we lock the car, head for the decks upstairs and if the weather is fine, we line up on the railing and soak up the lush scenes before us. If a large fish dispsy doodles for a nano second, the gasps of delight are just as much fun as the spectacle. We are prisoners of sorts here on this huge vessel, but we're laid back and ready for a sail on the open seas.
Children have invaded travel these days. They are everywhere. Shouting, laughing, bouncing, whining - same as us, really - but they do it all so much better. And if you're able to just sit and watch the shenanigans as they develop, even more fun.
Yes, it's part of the territory. If you're gonna live on an island, get the Ferry Schedule on the frig right now!

Monday, August 10, 2009

Movin' On - making music

"Hey, I've got a gig in your town - on Sunday. We're playin' the Blues".
It's just what we need. Something completely off the wall, loud, raucous, uninhibited.
We could hear them from the parking lot. They were just warming up, and there were mixers to be adjusted, guitars to be fiddled with, and keyboards to be turned up. All the usual back-ing and forth-ing that a group of normally ordinary guys do when making music.
Music is a life force. The human species was meant to do music. We are born with the automatic response to all things musical. Play a loud chord in a roomful of people. Every head will turn to find out where the sound came from.
What the audience has to realize when these guys are entertaining them is that they're entertaining themselves. They're having the best time of anyone in the room. They're having the best time they've have all day. They play up a storm and we're all rockin' to the beat.
They play the blues, they play jazz, they play rock and roll. New musicians arrive, invited to share in the evening. You can tell they've been thinking about this moment of glory with anticipation. They don't disappoint.
Our keyboard player joins us with a hug, and we laugh about the incongruity of us being in this town together - him from the bigger city, and us staying here - just down the street. We're thrilled with how he pounds out the tunes, his fingers flying over the keys, his feet pounding out the beat. What could be more thrilling, we think, than to be able to do this - to be able to make music on the fly, not a sheet of music to be seen anywhere all evening long.
That's why we love musicians. They do what we all long to do. They make music.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Movin' On - day at a time














We're told that we should live life a day at a time. Live for the moment. Don't mess with past or future - it just adds layers to an otherwise pure moment. I think there's a lot of truth to this.
It's what we've been trying to do. We've left our past behind us. Our future is uncertain.
In large part, we've been quite successful. We've been astonished at how quickly and easily we've "erased" our home from our thoughts, how seldom we think of it, or talk about it. My brother said "Well, right now you are not thinking of it, but that doesn't mean you won't in the future". I wonder about that. I think he might be right.
Sometimes it feels that we are living a scene after scene existence that simply develops on its own, has no beginning or end, and will go on forever - rootless.
We are starting to long for closure.
We're resenting the make-do meals, the laundry adventures, the "suitcase as a chest of drawers" scenarios.
Yesterday, we looked at yet more possible homes. We're starting to get them mixed up, the realtor is starting to drop comments like "I was surprised that you wanted to see this one - it doesn't fill your criteria somehow". He gives us sheafs and sheafs of paper outlines for each property. The pictures seem to bear no relationship to the actual product. I start taking pics of my own, but I need to put a person in the shot, or I can't remember where we were either. Web sites do a pretty good job, but in every re-production class, the real thing can surprise. Reality is the final arbiter. What you see is what you get.
In some ways, we feel we are making progress. We keep shoring each other up. "Remember, we said we wouldn't rush into this - let's just be patient, and one of these days, we'll walk in a door, and know immediately that this will work for us".
This came close to happening yesterday.
So maybe the end is near.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Movin' On - Advice

I've discovered that real estate agents know their stuff. And let's face it. Who hears more stories of re-location than them? They ask one question and we pour out our frustrations, and wish lists, and "if only"s. The real estate agent as psychologist is not that big a stretch.
House hunting around here can keep you hopping. There are "for Sale" signs everywhere. (If this is "La La Land", how come everyone is getting out?) So there's seldom a "Show Home Viewing" sign that we don't check out. There's usually 2 bodies minding the store. One of them asks a few questions, and I get the feeling that they have us pegged in 5 minutes flat. And in most cases, they won't hesitate to ignore the place we're standing in and start suggesting locales, homes, and prices that they think might fit our profile. It's quite impressive and says a lot for their profession.
Yesterday was a perfect case in point. This beachfront resort was mostly not there. Lots of diggings for start-ups, maps and lay-outs, and fingers pointing towards the ocean. "Oh, you need something right away - this isn't the place for you - have you tried that golf resort up in the mountains? You would love that. Just a minute, I'll show you on my computer - ". She asks the name of our agent, writes down the addresses of the places, gives us her card, and wishes us well in our quest.
At another such visit, the real estate guy said "you know, if you like to golf, you're in the wrong spot. The best golf is further north, the prices are lower there, and there's more choices."
We also hear "from Alberta? welcome to you! We love you guys. You keep us all afloat very nicely. How can we help you today?"
We don't feel like we're moving quickly enough in our search. But brains have a way of storing away a lot more things than we're aware of. So we're not going to cut out any more golf than we have to.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Movin' On - leaving the beach













We leave this beach environment tomorrow.
This morning I'm determined to get some video of it's early morning magic. Robins rule around here, smaller birds lower in the pecking order. Two rabbits search the fence line for breakfast. The air is so soft and fresh. Joggers start to appear. A little boy is crouched low intently looking at the sand life as it burrows up and down in mysterious patterns. SO quiet. Just as I press the button, the loud family from # 22 decides to pack their van for a day's outing. Those three little blond headed boys can make more noise than a football team. Which they became for a few minutes - the older one the quarterback for the Stealers scoring three touchdowns in 20 seconds. I finally got a glimpse of the Mom. Long blond hair and slim legs, she looks like their sister, for heaven's sake! The Dad seems older somehow, but very fit and very patient with his extremely boisterous crew.
The tide is way way out this morning. Yesterday when walking we stood in one spot and watched closely as the water moved towards shore. It's a strange sight for a prairie girl. Great fun to spot our little balcony where we live - what a mixed up hodge podge of cottages, and little condos, and shacks, and beach houses!
Last night there was a crab feast next door. A huge pot of water heating by the picnic table. And then the crab bubbling at the top of the water with all gathered around to watch. When we looked again, they were chowing down with 4 bottles of wine and plenty of talk and laughter.
The family right beneath us piles all their beach toys, towels, and clothes on their little round table and chairs outside their room. It's a big big pile of stuff. One day we got a glimpse of their room through the open door - and it would seem that the inside looks pretty much like the outside. Lots of kids, and here again, the Mom seems like one of them. There's lots of little things for the kids - a ball on a string that they bat round and round a pole to accompanying squeals of delight. A small tennis court and a little forest for games of Robin Hood.
Ah yes, you can't beat life on the beach on a long hot summer.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Movin' On -room with a view

Another house viewing - another hot day.
This house was SO high in the sky - the views were awesome. The sea, the city, the golf course spread out before us.
Inside the house was also spectacular. Huge windows everywhere - something vaguely "oriental" about the color scheme.
I like to see a place unfurnished. Realtors say this is unusual - "Oh no, they can't imagine the place with no furniture".
I have trouble getting past the "stuff" - beautiful choices in art, or bedspreads, or carpets. I even scan the library to see what they like to read. And that's not what we're there for. If the place is empty, you know exactly what the product is, exactly how it's going to look when the furniture arrives. Speaking of which, the grand piano gets a "lot of press".
"She's got a beautiful grand piano", he says. From then on, everyone is picking out the perfect spot for the grand piano. I'm vaguely uncomfortable with this, convinced that they are imagining me whirling up and down the keys with extreme precision and talent. I find myself trying to change the subject.
Today the realtor says "It's easy to show you a place - you're so enthusiastic. Lots of folks never make any positive or negative comments". Hmmmm. Could this be that I lived for too long in one house? Could it be that I don't get out much? Could it be that I don't want to hurt his feelings?
Yesterday I said to him. "You keep asking us what we're looking for. Don't you have people who give you all those answers, and then end up choosing something completely off the chart?"
"Oh yes, there's always some of those".

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Movin' On -HEAT WAVE!!!

The golf course at 4 in the afternoon strikes me as a dangerous place to be. "I won't walk today. It's too hot"
But the seat on the golf cart is too hot, and I go back to walking. There are shadows along the tree line, and that's where I try to shoot my ball. I do surprisingly well on the first nine, considering my state of mind. Which is "What am I doing here?"
Yes, there's a major heat wave here. Records are being set, and people are starting to tell their "I was so hot that . . . . ." stories.
I bought a tube of sun block - my first one in a long time. Where I come from, it's been so cool that by the time you found a day to use your sun block, it was way out of date.
I bought hot weather clothes - my first such attire in a long time. No need.
Our vehicle lost it's air-conditioning a while back and we wondered whether to spend the money to fix it, as we're getting rid of it soon. Thank goodness we went through with the repair. Our car is one of the coolest places to be right now.
I feel sorry for the people who have to tidy up their homes so that a possible buyer can look at it. That's what we're doing right now a lot of the time, and what a hassle it must be for them.
My sandals have left marks on my feet, so if I wear other shoes, it looks funny, and I have the feeling it will take a year to get rid of this dark tan.
People are sitting outside of an evening visiting with friends - such happy voices. Others just enjoying a book, perhaps, or doing a bit of gardening, saw a lady knitting yesterday. It occurred to me that we never did this in our other life. Either too hot, too cold, too windy, too many bugs.
The beach is busy right now. At 5:30 this morning a woman sat in the wooden chair on the lawn taking pictures of the sun rising. I never saw her before.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Movin' On - morning

The crows wake me up. 7:00.
The tide is way out - the beach and sand spread far. One lone walker way off in the distance.
I stand on the deck and before long a young man comes running with his dog. The dog is in "sheer delight" mode. He runs fast, then stops looking back at his master, tail wagging mightily. Then bounds off again and becomes so joyful he lays down and wiggles on his back in the sand, gets up again and bounds off. This is a happy dog.
On the other side, another dog walker. This is a small dog - on a leash. I kid you not. Acres and acres of virtually empty beach, and this gal has her little dog on a leash. Do you suppose she lives her whole life on a leash? Views her actions narrowly, carefully, and seriously? Maybe she doesn't laugh a lot? Act silly? Take a chance? Who knows? Perhaps the dog is completely content to be on the leash.
I wanted the happy dog and the careful dog to meet, but they went their different ways.
Little kids out on the beach - So early! - each with their little styrofoam pink, blue, and yellow "rafts" - pulling the string and the raft coming along so obediently behind them. They start out slowly, and then one of them does a little hop. The other one skips a bit, and suddenly the three of them are bounding with abandon across the sand. This beach works magic at every moment. The kids seem to quickly fill up their "joy juice" tank, and they are smitten for the rest of the day. Wow! They must sleep so well at night.