Saturday, May 29, 2010
How can this be??!!??!
I read in the newspaper that Algonquin College has launched a new course. It is called.........wait for it.......you are not ready for this...........not yet..........sit down............calm down............breathe deeply...........wait a little longer.....get out the beads......close your eyes.......go to a happy place.......breathe more deeply........lie down......draw a bath...........get into it..........The new course is called..........I can hardly type it....... "Victimology". I kid you not! Why do I keep saying, "I kid you not"? It's because I cannot believe so many realities! So, you can now enroll in a "Victimology" course at Algonquin College and emerge a...........victim? a..........person who deals with victims?...... a person who wants to sue someone?.............Not quite sure? But the article quoted the woman (of course) director of the course and she said that "Victimology" would explore the "theory and history" of the victim. Whaaaaaat?!!!!!???!!! I can't even fathom what that means!? So, let's get this straight. If I get a degree in "Victimology" I will be able to counsel victims of.................?????? It is beyond belief that society has come to this. We cannot as friends and family and help each other. We have to turn to strangers with degrees in "Victimology" to help us through our trials. It must be an extension of "grief counselors", those "experts" who descend upon high schools after a shooting rampage. Strangers who are somehow more qualified to help than parents and grandparents. But now, someone is making money offering a course in it. Just shoot me.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
We now have "Youthologists"
Watching a bad show this afternoon, I felt as if I had stumbled upon a peep show. It was all about teenage girls and what they consider "sex". It seems that everything except the act of procreation itself is not considered sex. There they were, appearing with their mothers no less, talking about a form of partying that can only be described as "speed sex" -- kinda like speed dating, but this involved every act you could think of and how it all worked. Apparently, the girls make a list of everything they would like to do, and with whom they would like to do it, and then go from one boy to the next doing these things in a group. Remember how we used to dance together at parties? Well, things have definitely shifted big time.
It was appalling and very scary. The stupid mothers just sat there while their daughters talked about the typical Friday night. Then a bunch of doctors chimed in warning that although this form of "dating" can be very empowering for girls -- whaaaat???!!! -- you still have to be mindful of those annoying STD's. What a pain it all is, trying to stay safe while rushing from one guy to the next, trying to remember what precautions to use for what act. The crowning touch came when one 15-year-old said that she and most of her friends practiced anal sex, so they wouldn't have to actually engage in intercourse. This way they could remain "virgins" I kid you not!!!! And this was mainstream, prime time afternoon TV! Nevermind the obesity epidemic in the US. This is off the charts!
The doctors and "experts" who were most in favour of all this "empowering" were the women on the panel. They acted as if this were some new form of women's lib because the girls were in the driver's seat, so to speak. Especially the "youthologist". She was perfect. Since when do we have to have youthologists? I guess since mothers packed it in. Now these morons have to rely on experts to tell them that anal intercourse is not a great idea at 15 (or ever). I could go on, but I won't.
Talking this morning about bizarre behaviour, I recalled that our mothers and grandmothers didn't rely on experts to tell them what was happening to Mrs. Smith next door, or Mrs. Jones' daughter down the street. If Mrs. Smith went berserk and killed her husband -- or worse left him -- there was no psychological explanation. Mrs. Smith just..."took a notion". Plain and simple. And if Mrs. Jones' daughter got "in the family way", Mrs. Jones' daughter was just a bad girl. Plain and simple. People "took notions", someone was "just born that way", people had "nervous breakdowns" (whatever that meant), people went "queer", someone was eccentric, someone else was "odd", those people were "different", the wild boy down the street was just "going through a phase". All deviations were tidily described and summarily dismissed before breakfast. As a kid I found it emminently easier to handle the out-of-the-ordinary without a psychiatric analysis and a talk show attached.
It was appalling and very scary. The stupid mothers just sat there while their daughters talked about the typical Friday night. Then a bunch of doctors chimed in warning that although this form of "dating" can be very empowering for girls -- whaaaat???!!! -- you still have to be mindful of those annoying STD's. What a pain it all is, trying to stay safe while rushing from one guy to the next, trying to remember what precautions to use for what act. The crowning touch came when one 15-year-old said that she and most of her friends practiced anal sex, so they wouldn't have to actually engage in intercourse. This way they could remain "virgins" I kid you not!!!! And this was mainstream, prime time afternoon TV! Nevermind the obesity epidemic in the US. This is off the charts!
The doctors and "experts" who were most in favour of all this "empowering" were the women on the panel. They acted as if this were some new form of women's lib because the girls were in the driver's seat, so to speak. Especially the "youthologist". She was perfect. Since when do we have to have youthologists? I guess since mothers packed it in. Now these morons have to rely on experts to tell them that anal intercourse is not a great idea at 15 (or ever). I could go on, but I won't.
Talking this morning about bizarre behaviour, I recalled that our mothers and grandmothers didn't rely on experts to tell them what was happening to Mrs. Smith next door, or Mrs. Jones' daughter down the street. If Mrs. Smith went berserk and killed her husband -- or worse left him -- there was no psychological explanation. Mrs. Smith just..."took a notion". Plain and simple. And if Mrs. Jones' daughter got "in the family way", Mrs. Jones' daughter was just a bad girl. Plain and simple. People "took notions", someone was "just born that way", people had "nervous breakdowns" (whatever that meant), people went "queer", someone was eccentric, someone else was "odd", those people were "different", the wild boy down the street was just "going through a phase". All deviations were tidily described and summarily dismissed before breakfast. As a kid I found it emminently easier to handle the out-of-the-ordinary without a psychiatric analysis and a talk show attached.
Monday, May 24, 2010
When high heels ruled
Went to yet another funeral last week and it brought back memories of another era, another time. This lady's parents were tennis club friends of my parents, but we were a generation apart. How well I remember the cocktail parties my parents and her parents gave -- or was it "threw"? The sounds of clinking crystal, cigarette smoke wafting up into our bedrooms, the smell of furniture polish, the laughter, the nail polish (bright red, of course), the canapes, the rigor of the event and the gay abandon that went along with it. Her name was Anne Craig and she was the eldest of three sisters -- all totally gorgeous. I looked up to them when I was a kid and wanted to be just like them. The middle sister died a couple of years ago, but the youngest was there and as gorgeous as ever. Now in her seventies with five kids and lots of grandchidren, she still looked like the teenaged Ailsa that I adored. You know how young girls are in love with older ones? Well, that was me with Ailsa. I was completely in love with her.
The mother was the one with the style and she passed it onto her girls. I loved visiting them. I would sneak into Lillian's bedroom and try on all her jewelry. She was the first woman who wore fabulous costume jewelry. Bite me Shepherd's. Big clunky bracelets, junky necklaces, huge earrings. And perfume! I can still smell it when I think of Mrs. Craig. She had dyed blonde hair and wore the most hollywood high heels I had ever seen. I used to try them on too and parade around clunking and bumping into things. She was the complete opposite of my mother -- the darling latter of the pearls and the simple gold rings. Lillian Craig also wore lots of makeup and I can still see her twinkling eyes, laughing above the reddest of lips.
Her husband, Billy, Anne, Rosemary and Ailsa's father, was another kettle of fish. He was a cockney and the doorman at the Chateau all his life. Thinking back, Lillian Craig married "down" as they say. She may have been pregnant, but whatever the reason, they were an odd couple. He was so charming, but given a little too much to drink now and then. Never mind, they consistently lived above their means and gave the best parties. I used to spend weekends with them and just loved playing dress-up.
Rosemary, the middle sister, was drop-dead, movie star gorgeous and married a doctor from Boston. Whenever Rosemary and Jack visited, all stops were out. She died before Anne and now only Ailsa remains of the fabulous Craig girls. The reception was at the Rideau Tennis Club, where we all grew up. The memories came flooding back. My dad and Billy Craig used to play tennis every Saturday morning and sneak a couple of beers into the locker room to enjoy after their match. At that time the club had no licence. Dad and Billy were an unlikely duo. My dad, the renowned scientist and Billy, the doorman, were united by a love of tennis, plain and simple.
When I embraced Ailsa at her sister's funeral last week I felt as if I were embracing a lost generation. We don't see each other in our everyday lives, but the love of our parents and of an era now gone loomed large as my tears welled.
The mother was the one with the style and she passed it onto her girls. I loved visiting them. I would sneak into Lillian's bedroom and try on all her jewelry. She was the first woman who wore fabulous costume jewelry. Bite me Shepherd's. Big clunky bracelets, junky necklaces, huge earrings. And perfume! I can still smell it when I think of Mrs. Craig. She had dyed blonde hair and wore the most hollywood high heels I had ever seen. I used to try them on too and parade around clunking and bumping into things. She was the complete opposite of my mother -- the darling latter of the pearls and the simple gold rings. Lillian Craig also wore lots of makeup and I can still see her twinkling eyes, laughing above the reddest of lips.
Her husband, Billy, Anne, Rosemary and Ailsa's father, was another kettle of fish. He was a cockney and the doorman at the Chateau all his life. Thinking back, Lillian Craig married "down" as they say. She may have been pregnant, but whatever the reason, they were an odd couple. He was so charming, but given a little too much to drink now and then. Never mind, they consistently lived above their means and gave the best parties. I used to spend weekends with them and just loved playing dress-up.
Rosemary, the middle sister, was drop-dead, movie star gorgeous and married a doctor from Boston. Whenever Rosemary and Jack visited, all stops were out. She died before Anne and now only Ailsa remains of the fabulous Craig girls. The reception was at the Rideau Tennis Club, where we all grew up. The memories came flooding back. My dad and Billy Craig used to play tennis every Saturday morning and sneak a couple of beers into the locker room to enjoy after their match. At that time the club had no licence. Dad and Billy were an unlikely duo. My dad, the renowned scientist and Billy, the doorman, were united by a love of tennis, plain and simple.
When I embraced Ailsa at her sister's funeral last week I felt as if I were embracing a lost generation. We don't see each other in our everyday lives, but the love of our parents and of an era now gone loomed large as my tears welled.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pancakes topped with cheese cake
I-Hop has an ad for pancakes topped with cheese cake. You could not make that up. How can anyone eat that!?!? Boy, americans sure like their fat. But I also saw a show on Canadian TV the other day beating the drum for BBQ season. One of the recipes called for.......wait for it.......a grilled cheese sandwich nestled between two beef patties. I think it was called 'The death burger'. I almost had a coronary watching the guy cook it. Needless to say, he was about 300 pounds.
Speaking of eating, our daughter and grandson were here for a couple of days. At 18 months, all one does is chase after him with food to keep him quiet -- unless he's sleeping, which is another bodily function I prayed for constantly. Although I hated to see the little tyke depart, I didn't really hate it. He's cute, but too much work. I now have a newly-found respect for my mother, who outfitted her house for a number of years with baby stuff, you know -- portable cribs, playpens, highchairs, toys. I took it for granted that she would do this, but not me. And she was older than I when I had children.
I have a funeral to report on, but more later..........
Speaking of eating, our daughter and grandson were here for a couple of days. At 18 months, all one does is chase after him with food to keep him quiet -- unless he's sleeping, which is another bodily function I prayed for constantly. Although I hated to see the little tyke depart, I didn't really hate it. He's cute, but too much work. I now have a newly-found respect for my mother, who outfitted her house for a number of years with baby stuff, you know -- portable cribs, playpens, highchairs, toys. I took it for granted that she would do this, but not me. And she was older than I when I had children.
I have a funeral to report on, but more later..........
Monday, May 10, 2010
Frozen fries
Went to Montreal on Saturday for a great event. The launch of the 53rd Garnet Key at Concordia. For those who don't know the Key is an honours society of about 12 students, chosen for their top grades and general "all roundedness". This was the launch of the 53rd Key; Brian was in the fifth. They always invite, and make a fuss over, the old guys and it's usually a lot of fun.
Drove down Saturday morning and arrived in time for lunch at the Sofitel -- a very expensive French chain with a first-rate dining room. Not this time. Ordering the filet, I asked if the fries were "maison" or "congele". "Oh madame, we would never serve frozen frites here!" I then told her about lunching at the St. James Hotel a couple of years ago in Old Montreal. The St. James is another very expensive place and I had asked the same question of the waiter there. Same answer -- never frozen, not here madame! When I asked the maitre'd why they lie about the fries, he said, "Don't tell me you come all the way to Montreal just for the fries!" Duh! So what if I do? He just sniffed me off. I was livid.
So -- after gaily ha-ha-ing about that fiasco with the waitress -- we ordered the Sofitel frites. One bite and I knew they were frozen. You don't raise four kids without knowing a frozen french fry in an instant. I could not believe it. A waitress bare-face lying while talking about another waitress bare-face lying about fries. You could not make it up. Another waitress confirmed the frozen fries and said, "Well, we'd have to have more staff just to cut them all up." Whaaaat???!!!! At $110 for lunch, there's lots of margin in there to pay someone to grab a knife and cut the potatoes. And don't they have machines for this? I told the smug manager about the lying waitress and she practically fell on the floor, grovelling about how sorry she was and blah, blah. I said, "I know what you're going to do about this, zero. You don't even ask my name -- nothing. You're going to go back into the kitchen and moan about an "ancienne maudit anglaise" complaining about frites. I know you don't give a s--t." I asked for the general manager's card and plan to write him a wakeup letter.
When the Sofitel first opened, the chef's were flown in from Paris and the food was beyond the beyond. A few years on and everyone has gone back to sleep. Casse-croute fries remain the best in the province, sorry to say.
Drove down Saturday morning and arrived in time for lunch at the Sofitel -- a very expensive French chain with a first-rate dining room. Not this time. Ordering the filet, I asked if the fries were "maison" or "congele". "Oh madame, we would never serve frozen frites here!" I then told her about lunching at the St. James Hotel a couple of years ago in Old Montreal. The St. James is another very expensive place and I had asked the same question of the waiter there. Same answer -- never frozen, not here madame! When I asked the maitre'd why they lie about the fries, he said, "Don't tell me you come all the way to Montreal just for the fries!" Duh! So what if I do? He just sniffed me off. I was livid.
So -- after gaily ha-ha-ing about that fiasco with the waitress -- we ordered the Sofitel frites. One bite and I knew they were frozen. You don't raise four kids without knowing a frozen french fry in an instant. I could not believe it. A waitress bare-face lying while talking about another waitress bare-face lying about fries. You could not make it up. Another waitress confirmed the frozen fries and said, "Well, we'd have to have more staff just to cut them all up." Whaaaat???!!!! At $110 for lunch, there's lots of margin in there to pay someone to grab a knife and cut the potatoes. And don't they have machines for this? I told the smug manager about the lying waitress and she practically fell on the floor, grovelling about how sorry she was and blah, blah. I said, "I know what you're going to do about this, zero. You don't even ask my name -- nothing. You're going to go back into the kitchen and moan about an "ancienne maudit anglaise" complaining about frites. I know you don't give a s--t." I asked for the general manager's card and plan to write him a wakeup letter.
When the Sofitel first opened, the chef's were flown in from Paris and the food was beyond the beyond. A few years on and everyone has gone back to sleep. Casse-croute fries remain the best in the province, sorry to say.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Still penalized because of our wombs
I have been reading many articles lambasting western women for not having more babies. Written by men, these articles quote all the statistics and demographics about how we are not reproducing ourselves sufficiently. While I completely agree (I have four children from 30 to 37 and only 1.5 grandchildren), I know the problem. But nothing has changed for women. We are still penalized for bearing the biological birthing function. I remember in 1971, saying to the president of DuPont of Canada, my employer at the time, that I would have to shortchange my career to have children and I resented it. We were at an employee cocktail party and he scoffed in disgust and walked off. Of course, he was about 50 at the time and his wife had stayed at home and raised his children, so who cared about those of us who had been well-educated and wanted a career and children. Still can't have both. Amazing. If you get your career started and take time off to have children, you are penalized. You lose at least a year or two and the related salary increases.
It seems to me all the wrong people are having children. The teenagers, the uneducated, the single mothers, the unemployed -- basically all the women for whom having children doesn't involve a penalty. Sorry to be so elitist, but there we are. For these women, having children is actually a social boost! Instead of being losers, they are lauded as "mums" and given housing and social status as "single mums". Countless charities support them. It is an industry. Please!..and please again. I was born out-of-wedlock, but in the era when I was given to a married couple who wanted me. My birth mother went on with her life. She was never a drain on the tax dollar.
I remember being successful in a competition for a job, but when they learned I was pregnant, they cancelled the competition. A few months later they hired the guy who came second. I also remember hiding my second pregnancy for as long as I could at the office for fear of being fired. I managed to skulk begging back into the workplace after six months on unemployment and was given a "joe job" until I "proved myself again". While not as blatant, pregnancy discrimination is still dominant.
So, if society still does not value women having children and continues to penalize them for doing so against all odds, what is a young wife to do? Go ahead and have children. That's what I say. Nothing is more rewarding.
It seems to me all the wrong people are having children. The teenagers, the uneducated, the single mothers, the unemployed -- basically all the women for whom having children doesn't involve a penalty. Sorry to be so elitist, but there we are. For these women, having children is actually a social boost! Instead of being losers, they are lauded as "mums" and given housing and social status as "single mums". Countless charities support them. It is an industry. Please!..and please again. I was born out-of-wedlock, but in the era when I was given to a married couple who wanted me. My birth mother went on with her life. She was never a drain on the tax dollar.
I remember being successful in a competition for a job, but when they learned I was pregnant, they cancelled the competition. A few months later they hired the guy who came second. I also remember hiding my second pregnancy for as long as I could at the office for fear of being fired. I managed to skulk begging back into the workplace after six months on unemployment and was given a "joe job" until I "proved myself again". While not as blatant, pregnancy discrimination is still dominant.
So, if society still does not value women having children and continues to penalize them for doing so against all odds, what is a young wife to do? Go ahead and have children. That's what I say. Nothing is more rewarding.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)