D.H. Lawrence I am not

Just read a short story by D.H. Lawrence. What a great writer. It was called 'The Horse Dealer's Daughter' and dealt with relationships between men and women, as he usually did. But it was very erotic without ever getting into any physical stuff. Reading writers of his calibre, I realize that I am just a mediocre hack. (But they did publish my letter the other day.)

Watched a bunch of movies featuring Julie Christie yesterday. Man, what a beauty. Remember 'Darling'? I felt I was back in the sixties (it was filmed in 1965), when everyone smoked and drank and ran around -- but didn't have such a great time. I googled her and she is still alive, 68, and presumably still gorgeous. With that bone structure, how could she not be. Al Pacino called her the "most poetic of actresses", although what Al Pacino would know about "poetic" I have no clue. Just "Al Pacino" and "poetic" in the same sentence is alarmingly jarring.

Funny thing about 'Darling' was that her main lover was played by Dirk Bogarde, who was homosexual. His rival, played by Lawrence Harvey, was bi-sexual in real life, but both men were so gorgeous and sexy. I guess it was that bit of feminine in each that did the trick.

Went swimming last night and met the Chinese woman I have been teaching. The pathetic thing is that, due to her limited English, I find myself yelling at her in "baby talk". The woman is not deaf and about 40 years old, but I nonetheless yell in baby-talk and make ridiculous hand signals! Picture it. I also articulate every word, as if that would help her understand what I am on about. "Kick harder" is still incomprehensibly "kick harder" -- whether I exaggerate my lip movements or not. When I try to demonstrate how to kick by moving my arms up and down, she swims off moving her arms wildly instead of her legs, which she drags along like logs. But we never give up and are making great progress. I think we all do this with handicapped people too -- you know, yell at someone in a wheelchair, or at someone who is blind. What is that about!?

The latest scourge to hit the country are bed bugs. I kid you not. Heard a disgusting report on CBC this morning about how they are infesting homes, hospitals, hotels, nursing homes -- you name it -- everywhere. Spent the rest of the day peeking under the bed and scratching. Yuck. Apparently the reason is we all travel so much. But I began to wonder why bed bugs freak us out so much, yet a mosquito biting us in the middle of the night is just annoying? Both are blood-suckers, but I guess the difference is that the mosquito moves on to another target and out the window, while the bed bug snuggles under the mattress permanently.

Get your own

We have an aquaintance who always wants to borrow my husband. To her I say: get your own. Never married herself, she has hedged her bets for forty years by dating when young, almost getting married, but calling it off when she inherited a ton of money, keeping her friends for life in the sisterhood, picking up her nieces and nephews when she needed children for an occasion...etc. Now she has taken to inviting Brian here and there without inviting me. Now, that takes HUGE GALL. She used to include me, but now does not. I guess we both figured out a while ago that we were not alike -- although we appeared to have much in common for the first couple of years after we met. Not sure when that moment of truth burst forth, but women know instantly. Brian doesn't go to the BBQs and social events she slides onto the agenda, but he does play tennis with her because he loves tennis. And I don't mind because I don't play any longer and we may get some business out of the relationship. But it does take a lot of nerve to borrow people's husbands. I guess living with one would be too difficult. As I have said, marriage is an act of will.

Wifely was the watch-word today. I sewed all day, making a new Christmas tablecloth and napkins. Not that it is difficult, just straight sewing. But there's a lot of it when you include the borders and panels and other accoutrements I insist on.

I did manage to dash off a letter to the editor this morning and they called me to say they wanted to include it. It was about the cancelling of the long-form census. I said:

"It is breathtakingly Canadian that many of the same people citing privacy issues in objecting to the long-form census benefit mightily from the information it contains. The data obtained from the information we provide in the census drives federal and provincial social policy and the resultant benefits heaped upon Canadians. If you don't like the census, then we'd better scrap the tax form too. The personal and "private" information in the latter is much more confidential. But since taxes make the country go 'round, pay them and tick the census form boxes that decide where the money goes. Paying taxes and filling in the census are two of the greatest privileges all Canadians enjoy." Yours truly..........

I'll let you know if they publish it.

Why is it...?

Why is it that two minutes into a movie you can tell if it was directed or written by a man or a woman? Watched a really bad movie today called 'Helen', starring Ashley Judd and written and directed by a woman. It was about a woman suffering from depression and by the time I struggled through it, I was right in there with her. I think the give-away are the long, meaningful pauses in "chick flicks". Every thime her husband asked her if anything was wrong, the camera glided to a shot of her lying in a ball on the floor and then zeroed in on her face for about five minutes, as she contorted to sad piano music (of course, she used to be a pianist). At one point the only clue I had that I had not paused the DVD myself was the absence of those two little lines in the upper left-hand corner of the screen that tell you you have paused the film. It was just one sad walk along the beach after another crying jag in a restaurant washroom after another freak-out on the floor.........and you never knew why??!!

The scenes in the mental ward were just so unrealistic -- not that I have ever been a patient in one, although some days I am sure my family thinks it would be a great move. Patients were smashing their heads into glass offices and she just sat around not talking to the female psychiatrist treating her. I kept waiting for something to happen, but it never did. Eventually she agrees to the dreaded shock treatment and out of sheer relief I almost phoned in for a few jolts myself. Then she recovers -- sort of, but not really -- and goes back to her husband and her depressing jogs along the beach. The end. Don't rent it. I think if a man had directed it, there would have been fewer meaningful -- or should I say "meaningless" -- vacant stare scenes. I think there might have been a little more action and the husband would not have been the typical male ass who causes all her problems. He might not have been portrayed as a dolt whose only reaction to his wife's depression was to punch out a client (he's a distracted lawyer, natch) in a parking garage. Natch he is subdued by a female lawyer. It just sucked.

Spent an enjoyable morning at the war museum, doing my 'Quickbooks" thing -- although for me it should be "Slowbooks" because I take way longer than whiz kid Gillian, who taught me. "Just go in here and tab to there and input here and tab again and put in the receipt number and the client number and tab, tab, tab and that's all there is to it!" For you, maybe Gillian. For me it is check, check, check and check again. Part of the morning I yakked away with a woman volunteer guide I kept calling Phyll, instead of her real name, Marilyn. Don't you just hate trying to excuse why you can't get her name right!? And I have spent lots of time with this woman talking about very intimate things, like her divorce, and acting like I am her new best friend, but I can't get her name right. Duh! The kicker was that I was complaining about people who don't check to see if "Clarke" has an "e" on the end..."can't people just check out the name and get it right Phyll," I raved. "It's so pathetic, the inattention to detail, Phyll," I continued. Sometimes I am such a loser.

High heels and other ramblings.........

Watched the Tour de France presentations yesterday. Alberto Contador won. I am not a cyclist, but what galled me were the two females who stood alongside each winner on the podium, dressed like fashion models. What the hell were they doing there? How stupid is it to feature women who are not athletes in a presentation to iron cyclists? If the women chosen had been young cyclists themselves, striving for greatness in the sport, that would have been appropriate. But to have a bunch of broads standing there is insulting both to the cyclists and to their female counterparts. Just so French, I thought. If it had been a women's race, would there have been male fashion models or Chipmunk dancers standing there for the presentations? Maybe in France there would have been.

My daughter, a world-class athlete, thinks it's no big deal and that I am overacting. It's just a tradition, she says and shrugs. But she can enter any race, just as a man can, and she can beat thousands of men any time she wants. Women of my generation had to fight to create the opportunities our daughters now take for granted. Thank God for that. I guess their ho-hum means we succeeded.

Then I read an article praising shoes to the hilt. Yes, I do think high heels empower women in social settings. I did not know that over their lifetime, the average woman spends $26,000 on shoes. About seven pairs a year. I am way over that. High heels are the private domain of women; men can't get into this arena. It's the one attribute that we own, where we can make a statement. And we all know that when you describe a woman as wearing "sensible shoes" it is a damning comment. The article ends with a quote from a high-powered woman entrepreneur who says..."There's nothing like a killer pair of high heels to immediately boost your mood and make you feel strong and powerful. I don't leave the house without at least six inches under my soles. Some may say it's keeping me down as a woman, but I say just the opposite."

I totally agree.

Both sides of the Street

Ya know, ya can't work both sides of the street. This was brought home hard to me this morning when I was asked by the president of our tennis club to speak to the manager about her outfits. When hired, this young lady dressed "properly". In fact, her contract stipulated "proper attire". But she failed to get what "proper" meant and her outfits gradually morphed into pole-dancing attire. Before the meeting I looked up "proper" in the dictionary just to have something to fall back on. It says........"correct, suitable, appropriate, fit, becoming, decent, respectable, according to strict definition". Who wudd'a thought I would have had to tell the manager what "proper" meant?! But she is south american and I had to spell it out.

Man, cultural differences are HUGE. I guess in Columbia men rule the world and women have to attract them to get a bit of power. No, "guess" is not the word. I know that's the case. As a mother of daughters, I am so proud of the fact that they advance because of their brains and education. In so many other countries, women have no alternative but to advance because of their physical and sexual attributes (I was going to say "tits and ass", but thought that might offend someone). Truth be told, women can be trophy wives in Canada too. We all know them. But women can get ahead on their own steam and for that I am so grateful.

One of my cousins was a "trophy wife" and she suffered mightily. But in her estimation the rewards reaped trumped the related degradation, else she would not have struggled miserably through that life. My mother used to say it was as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. I tried, believe me, I tried. I dated lots of well-heeled, eligible young men and even got serious about one of the richest men in Canada. But I could not fall in love with him. Now when I see him at weddings and funerals I wonder about what might have been? But I know what would have been. We both know. Our respective marriages have worked out for the best.

On a related matter of nature, I was sitting on our balcony watching with annoyance a spider climbing on the wall. Bone laziness prevented me from fetching the ladder and bashing it. So I sat and watched it. As it spun its web I became transfixed. What a lovely creature it was. Back and forth it went, round and round it went, spinning and spinning its web. To think I was ready to clobber it! Most of need to get into the brain of that spider and learn something about commitment and dedication.

Thoughts on cooking and grammar

I am trying to be more vegetarian. No clue why, except that I have never seen a fat vegetarian. That would be a benefit. I know people who won't eat anything with a face. Now that would be too tough for me. But the internet is a goldmine of recipes. Tonight I made vegetarian pie and it was wonderful. I have worked my way through vegetarian cabbage rolls, vegetarian stew, vegetarian lasagna and lots of vegetarian soups. But biting the bullet and giving up steak tartar would be just too tough.

I have been noticing people's speech habits. Listen and you will hear everyone saying, "the thing is is..." They repeat the word "is" for some reason??!! Worse is, "the thing was is..." It's everywhere and I hate it. Lots of people muck up idiom -- like saying they were going to "home in" on something, instead of "hone in". Or, something is a tough "road" to hoe, instead of a tough "row" to hoe. I guess hoeing rows is a thing of the past, but who hoes roads? I was talking to someone the other day and she ended every sentence with....."type of thing". Either that or..."and that". It was painful. A typical sentence would be, "I was coming in to work, and that, and I decided to buy a coffee, type of thing." Seriously. All I listened to were the "type of thing's" and the "and that's". I didn't retain a word she said. I kept waiting for her not to do it, but she didn't relent once!

Trouble is, I have always been a speech and grammar snob. I judge people by how they speak. Shoot me, but it's true.

Behind the Scenes at the Museum

'Behind the Scenes at the Museum' was a fabulous book I read at the cottage a few years back. A first novel by Kate Atkinson, it facinated me. Read it, if you haven't. It won a number of prizes, but what drew me in was her unique use of literary devices -- such as telling the reader in the last sentence of a chapter what horrible thing happens in the next. So one had to read on and was never disappointed.

Now, I am living "behind the scenes at the museum" because I work at the War Museum. What fun it is! I deal with aged vets who take their roles as "living artifacts" in the various galleries very seriously. Dedicated Canadians beyond belief, they come in for coffee when they have given a tour and I just love listening to them chat. They actually discuss real battles in which they have fought and their comrades died -- coupled with the state of the cookie bin and the coffee. The latter are my responsibility and so far I am keeping up. A couple of times I have had to navigate a vet's motorized wheelchair in and out of the office because backing up and making a three-point turn proved impossible.

My life over 40 years as a smarty-pants career woman has been outstriped by my work making coffee for these men and women. What the hell does any of it matter when every day I get a laugh and a ton of anecdotes from such great people!? Everything falls into place and into a proper perspective. Every day these (mostly) men get dressed in their finest, pin on their medals, get into their wheelchairs, lean on their canes or walkers and head into the War Museum to tell their tales.

As for me, I have learned a new skill -- Quickbooks -- and am now the bookeeper for the "Friends" office. I have also been promoted from coffee gal to Deputy Secretary to the Board. But believe me, if I had not earned my stripes making coffee and schleping office chores, I would not have been given my added responsibilities.

As to high heels? I am wearing them all in sequence and they are all happy to be once again trotted out in service. Since I retired, my high heels have been gathering dust, but they are proudly serving my outfits. We all feel at home again.

I was right about the Governor General

It seems that our Governor General and her husband do not deserve the honour bestowed upon them. They wanted the Queen and her consort to stay at a hotel!!!!!! They did not want them to stay at Rideau Hall. How incredible! She has never stayed anywhere but her rightful home here, Rideau Hall. I was right about the GG knowing neither her place nor her role. She and her French husband now believe their own press. Whatever you do, or don't, like about Stephen Harper, he was brilliant to send her to China while the Queen was here. God knows what other regal upstaging she -- or more likely her husband -- would have tried to pull off. Even more brilliant, he has made her Canada's UN envoy to Haiti. As i said, last time I checked Haiti was not part of the Commonwealth and so not part of the GG's responsibility. Yet she loves to visit there at the expense of the people of Canada, so now she will be posted there.

Read David Warren today to get a good analysis of the Crown as the lynchpin of the entire Canadian constitution. He rightly rails against the Liberal politicizing of the Crown over many decades. The Queen is above politics and her portrait should never have been removed from all federal buildings, as the Liberals have systematically done. He says...

"It was incredibly irresponsible to play at changing what cannot be changed without demolishing the whole Canadian constitutional order. It was incrddibly foolish to start stripping the lion and unicorn off public stationery and the Queen's portrait from all public places. Her Majesty, being above politics, it was an incredibly vile act of disloyalty to politicize her office."

Hear hear.

Cosmetic surgery taken way too far

I read today about Muslim women who are now getting surgery to repair broken hymens before getting married so they can appear virgins. It costs about $3,500 and is becoming quite commonplace. So, now we have young girls undergoing vaginal mutilation before puberty and then suffering hymen recovery procedures before they get married. This is sick. The procedure is necessary because the groom's family inspects the sheets after the wedding night to be sure the bride was a virgin. Must be a bunch of money involved, is all I can say.

But how far removed is this from the Chinese and Japanese women who undergo eyelid fold surgery? Any how different is this from the latest fad in India, where women are going under the knife to get dimples? In the west, our obsession is with breasts. Thousands of women have to get bigger ones. We are also obessed with plastic surgery of all kinds. Chin tucks, eyelid procedures, liposuction.......you name it, North American women are getting it done. And all to be more fetching. It is a sad reality that we think we have to change our physical appearance to be accepted. All sick. Remember my blog about 'Toddlers and Tiaras'? Well, that's where it starts. Thank you, Moms everywhere.

So, when my daughter does a half ironman, as she did this past weekend, and comes in first in her age category I am so proud. I stand in awe of this woman.