Hair

Let's face it, women are defined by their hair.  When you look at a woman's hair you know immediately who she is....or thinks she is. 

When I was in university, every cool girl had long, straight locks with bangs.  I had naturally-curly hair and hated it.  I actually used to iron my hair on my mother's ironing board to get it straight.  One evening, at age 19, as I was preparing to go to a seedy student bar with a bunch of other university (I was going to say "layabout") students, I looked into the mirror and said, "What the hell are you doing trying to straighten your curly hair??!!" 

The next day I had it all cut off.  And I mean "off".  If you are as old as I, you will remember when Mia Farrow appeared in "Peyton Place" with a one-inch haircut.  I did the same.  It was exhilarating.  No longer did I have to compete with the beauties with hair.  Hey, if you wanted to date me, you had to "see" me -- not my hair.

Today, look at a woman's face and imagine it without the hairdo.  Most will be ugly.

I used to colour my hair, but when I turned 45 I looked into the mirror and said, once again, "What the hell are you doing, Nancy??!!"

When you start turning grey, accept it.  Nothing worse than middle-aged women with grey roots and overdone blonde streaks in tired hair.     

I am not making this up.....honestly!

Had a little home service with a few readings yesterday to mark B's mother's cremation in England.  She died peacefully at age 93.  Decided to trip down memory lane and hauled out letters she had written over the years.  As I have said, Diamond Iris Thelma Walsh Marley-Clarke Beetles was one of the last splendid English Maharanis of the British Raj and boy, did she live it..."dahling", as she would say.

One letter contained a number of clippings; "Out of India", by Tim McGirk,  caught the eye.  It was about names Indians give their children.  Here are a few exerpts:

"June's name was not May-I-Help-You, Black Beauty or She-Satisfies-Us, some of the other names I was beginning to collect with the same avid interest that Mr. Wankhar netted his butterflies.  It turns out that June's father was an Englishman who joined the Indian Civil Service after a first in Philosophy at Oxford, and he was quite sensible about names. 

"'A name such as Latrine, said June, was probably chosen because her Khasi (tribe) parents, servants to a British couple, had heard the word mentioned frequently and liked the sound of it.  'You think Latrine sounds strange,' said June, 'there's a woman here in Shillong named Prostitute.  Prostie, for short.'

"I dread to think of what quarrels her parents must have overheard coming from the British Sahib and Memsahib's bungalow that made them think:  'That word they keep using, over and over........prostitute.  Sounds good.  Let's call our daughter that.

"The missionaries also influenced bizarre names.  Admiral Nelson, Mountbatten, Churchill, John F. Kennedy and Adolf Hitler were a few of the more notable.  Hitler was probably plucked randomly by the parents listening to BBC radio during the war.

"My favourite was the Shillong lorry driver who called his number one son First Gear.  They tend to have big families in north-east India, and First Gear was followed, inevitably, by Second Gear, Third Gear, Fourth Gear and, of course..............Neutral."

Charming. 

Not really

Driving to the pool at 5 a.m., Bruce Springsteen's "We take care of our own" was playing.  Having just watched a bunch of incomprehensible, feuding experts blathering on about the US Supreme Court's upholding of Obama's health care plan -- or parts of it, or changing it.......or whatever, I thought to myself, "not really, Americans don't take care of their own."  They let millions go without health care.

A civilized society is one in which its most vulnerable are cared for; America's current health system fails utterly to do that.  They let ga-zillions of citizens die and suffer for want of care.  I hate to say it again, but Canadians are different.  We do not do that.

When I said I didn't know who won and who lost, it was because both Republicans and Democrats were claiming victory.  But don't be fooled, folks.  Whenever Republicans don't like something, it's about their God money and the free-market system they slavishly worship.  Nevermind that the "free market" is what caused the downfall of middle America because Wall Street was left "free" to separate the general public from its money.  No, in the face of the evidence, Republicans still demand the private sector deliver health care.  $250 million was spent by Republicans lobbying to defeat "Obama-care".  Think where that money might have been better put to use. 

I have learned a lot by "playing dumb" and spending time with many rich, American Republicans asking why their system is so superior to ours.  They are only too happy to tell a lil' ole ignorant Canadian gal how it all works so supremely well in Uncle Sam's world.  In doing so, they reveal so much.

There are some things that cannot be left to the free market.  Health care is one of them.  Its ironic that while Americans scaremonger about Canada's system being communistic and too expensive...."It will bankrupt America," they claim (Note to Republicans: you are already bankrupt)....Canada is about the only country in the world to have weathered the global ecomonic mess relatively in tact.  And we can still go to a doctor anywhere in Canada anytime, present our health card and get care. 

Left to the sacrosanct American "free-market", doctors and drug companies will continue to reap big dollars and John Q. Public will continue to suffer and die.  Obama, of course, knows this will now be the only issue in the upcoming election because Romney has declared he will repeal the ruling "day one" if elected.  Obama also knows that once again, every Black in the US -- or at least every poor, uneducated Black, the kind without health care -- will turn out to vote for him, as they did last time, just because he is Black.  And who needs health care most?  Poor, uneducated Blacks, so he will win on this one issue and it will be a good thing.

Obama dodged a big, fat, lethal bullet because if the election were to have been fought on the economy, he would have lost.  On that file he stinks.  Don't know who sent his health care bill to the Supreme Court, but if the Republicans took that chance, that was dumb. 

In the end even they will reap rewards because no society can prosper unless its citizens are healthy and well-educated.

Incidentally, you can compare "Obama-care" to what Saskatchewan Premier Tommy Douglas (grandfather of Keifer Sutherland, not that that matters) introduced in Canada in 1966.  It's basically a carbon copy of that formula.   

It's always an inside job

Watching Piers Morgan interview Rielle Hunter, the former mistress of ex-presidential candidate John Edwards and mother of their daughter, I was once again reminded of the persistent fallacy that an outsider is the "homewrecker", that he/she (usually a she) causes the "alienation of affection".  This was Morgan's salacious theme throughout the interview and it is delusional. 

"You must be aware that you are reviled for breaking up Edwards' marriage," he kept repeating.  "Especially since his poor wife was enduring terminal cancer."  Please.  The only people who can break up a marriage are the two in it.  Yet, this myth and canard continues. 

Catherine Deneuve -- an infamous lover of many men -- when asked about her notorious affairs unapologetically said, "Some men are available and others are not.  It has nothing to do with their marital status."  That hit me like a ton of bricks at the time and I often think of it when some harridan or scandalmonger goes on about someone destroying a marriage.  Unless they are referring to themselves, they are wrong. 

And it was also amusing to watch the hypocritical Piers denegrate sitting-duck Hunter.  Afterall, this is a guy who has been married more than once himself and -- as an ex-reporter for an infamous and spicy London tabloid -- likely had his own share of outside interests before his divorce.

Personally, I thought Rielle Hunter was illogical, elusive, ambiguous and at times even delusional in discussing her book about the affair.  But she certainly is not what the American public has made her out to be. 

Never let them see the whites of your eyes

Stumbled upon this cool blog, which I have just joined.  "Advanced Style" features women over 60 who still try and keep it together.  Many are over 80 and they still know how to nail it.  Love it!  Many readers said this blog inspired them to try more daring outfits....why not?!  Now, when I wear something a tad more "enthusiastic" than normal, I won't feel awkward. 

http://advancedstyle.blogspot.ca/?spref=fb

Thought I'd mention a few

Canadian musicians are absolutely fantastic.  Here are a few..................tell me who I have missed......

Guy Lombardo

Oscar Peterson

Hank Snow

The Four Lads

Paul Anka

Ronnie Hawkins (not technically a Canadian, but he formed 'The Band')

The Beaumarks

Five Man Electrical Band (Les Emmerson is the brother of a friend of mine)

Bobby Curtola

Jonnie Mitchell

Leonard Cohen

The Staccatos (Went to Lisgar Collegiate with Paul Huot)

David Clayton Thomas

Zal Yanofsky (Met him in Kingston just before he died.  He signed his restaurant's cookbook for me.  'Chez Piggy' is a wonderful place.  The inscription read, "To Nancy with the laughing face".)

Ian and Sylvia

Neil Young

Rush (they went to high school (Earl Haig) with my ex-brother-in-law in Willowdale)

Bachman Turner Overdrive

The Guess Who

Bryan Adams

Triumph

Trooper

April Wine

Bruce Cockburn (I knew him before he was a star)

Rough Trade

Teenage Head

Chilliwack

Tom Cochrane (saw him before he was famous, 1978)

Loverboy

Honeymoon Suite

Doug and the Slugs

Valdy (We used to tell him to shut up when he played his guitar and sang at parties)

Platinum Blonde

Parachute Club

Blue Rodeo (To me, the quintessential "Canadian" sound)

Tragically Hip

Cowboy Junkies

Spirit of the West

Our Lady Peace

The Barenaked Ladies

Alanis Morissette (Daughter, Sarah, went to Glebe Collegiate in Ottawa with her)

Ginette Reno

Gino Vanelli

Diana Krall

Bif Naked

Joni Mitchell

Steppenwolf

Max Webster

Kim Mitchell

Corey Hart

Parachute Club

Stompin’ Tom Connors

April Wine

Junkhouse

Celine Dion

Shania Twain

Jan Arden

Gordon Lightfoot (a girl I went to university with knew him "intimately" back in 1967)

Nickelback

Arcade Fire

Thank you to Pierre Juneau, former head of the CRTC, for regulating Canadian radio stations and forcing them to actually play Canadian artists.  Otherwise, these fabulous muscians would not have had their moments in the sun. 

I love being a Canadian!

Speaking English

Heard a great piece on CBC radio today about a site called "Babel", pronounced "babble", which explores the trials new Canadians with foreign accents endure trying to fit into our society.  Facinating.

One linguistic expert who helps newcomers overcome accents and sound like "native speakers" tells her clients that in every English word, only one syllable is accentuated -- regardless of how many there may be in the word.  So, for example, with a word such as "understood", only the "stood" is emphasized.  In "satisfaction", only the "fac" is pronounced.  Likewise with "unCANNy", or "WINdow", or "HAbit", or "exTREMEly", or "expeDItious"........you get the picture.

She also noted that to speak "Canadian", one has to drop most vowels.  We include the vowels when we write, but not when we speak.  I had not thought about this, but it's quite true.  Accents occur when the speaker includes the vowels.  So, a word such as "fundamental" is spoken by a native speaker as "fundmntl".  That gets rid of the accent.  Vowels gone.  "Invocation" becomes "invcashn", "original" becomes "rignl", "ordinary" becomes "ordnry".  It's amazing.

Those whose mother tongue is not English pronounce all the vowels, thus producing the accent.   It's true in French too, where the "ne" is usually dropped when using the negative tense.  Native French speakers never say, "Je ne pense pas....."  They say, "Je pense pas...."  Who would've thunk it?

      

Sales must be very sluggish......

....in sunglasses here.  Same with clotheslines.  Another day of cold and rain dawns in Calgary.  My patio pots are hanging in there, but are mostly leaves; blossoms* crave heat and sun.  It's so wet I have just had to spray with a fungicide.  Fungi thrive in this oppressive moisture.  Could we not have just a wee bit of old-fashioned prairie drought?!   

But what I wanted to talk about was author Thomas Frank's  latest book, 'Pity the Billionaire -- the Hard-times Swindle and the Unlikely Comeback of the Right'.  Saw him interviewed by Bill Moyer the other night, during which he talked about how it's business as usual in the US -- where the rich are still getting richer and the poor poorer.  The crash of 2008 has changed nothing.  The US is not so much a country as a business, where political power is bought and sold all to the benefit of the rich.  He estimates it costs $100 million to get elected president, a little less to become a congressman or a senator.  And candidates are pretty much exclusively funded by industry and vested interests, taking a ton of causes and issues off the table right there.  He said that after 2008, Obama had a chance to change things with tighter regulations, but chickened out and backed off.  Obama, he said, is a very weak president.  I agree.

He explained how the power brokers and decision makers move seamlessly from white house aide job to lobbyist, thus the fix is always in.  We all know the middle class is disappearing in the US and he attributes this to the demise of the labour movement.  Makes sense.  There is no longer a labour movement in the US.  He also attributes the problem to the two-party system, whereby no other voices are heard.  I did not know that in some states it is illegal to form a third political party.  Can you imagine that in Canada?

In Canada we have many political parties and they can run candidates in every riding across the country.  This makes for a messier, but more democratic, Parliamentary system.  And here, people are not one thing or the other, as in the US.  You may vote one way municipally, another provincially and still another federally.  In fact, who knows the politics of the local alderman or councillor?  I have no clue if our mayor is NDP, Liberal, Green or PC?  And I don't care.

Our current government is taking a big chance muzzling back benchers and shutting down debate because Canadians don't like it.  Canadians will show their displeasure in the next election.

* Had to look up whether it was "bloom" or "blossom".  "Bloom" is the verb, but it means "to blossom"; "blossom" is the flower itself.  From that definition, "blossom" can be either a noun or a verb, which is grammatically known as a gerund.  Don't you just love the English language!  

How can they possibly miss it?

A soccer net is 24 feet wide and eight feet high.  How can world-class players consistently miss it??!!  Just watching the European Cup and guys who get paid a ga-zillion $$$ can't hit the net.  It's about the width of three garage doors and yet, they can't seem to put the ball in.  I guess it's more difficult to hit the target with one's foot, in spite of the fact these professionals have been trying to do it for years. 

I mean, it's not like sinking a putt into a two-inch cup.  Now, that takes skill.  It's not like hitting a home run, where you have to accurately connect bat to ball.  And it's not like kissing a two-inch line on a tennis court.  No.  All you have to do it kick a ball into a HUGE net.  How hard can it be?!

Boringly, the score is always nil-nil, or one-nil at the most.  Add to that the lacklustre commentary and you have mind-numbing stuff.  It's always... "Jones... Smith.... Varga....Brown."  Nothing but names.

And it's the only sport where the goal keeper wears a completely different uniform than the rest of his team.  Why is that?

I guess I just don't get "the beautiful game".  To me it's a stupid and tedious game.

New friends in Calgary...........

Meet a few of my new friends!  They are long-standing members of The Ranchmen's Club here in Calgary.  Daughter, Sarah, took these wonderful shots when she visited.  What a magnificent place! 

Comparing the size of the head to the wine bottle, you can see just how beautiful this wolf was.

Getting into the "stampede" mood!

Dallas...........again

Back in the '70s, I would not miss the original 'Dallas'.  Loved JR, thought Sue Ellen was gorgeous and was hooked on the story line.  It used to be broadcast on Friday nights and I would sit in a rocking chair with my newborn daughter, glued to it. 

Don't know why I loved it?  Guess it was the viciousness of the plot, the sets, the clothes and the Texan scenery.  Well, it's back with a lot of the same cast.  Larry Hagman is about 100 and, after a thousand liver transplants and throat cancer, looks pretty worn down.  But he still has it, vicious and coniving as ever. 

And then there is Linda Gray. The woman is 71 years old and looks magnificent.  When I read she had been born in 1940, I thought there must have been some mistake on Wikipedia, but no, she is really that age.  Larry is only nine years older, but the miles and years have taken their toll; he looks many more.  You have to hand it to him, however, he has been married to his one and only wife since 1954 -- a huge accomplishment in Hollywood, where stars change wives as often as they do underwear. 

Wednesday evenings will now find me hooked again on 'Dallas'. 

As annoying here as there

I knew I knew that voice.  Tuning it to a classic rock station here, I heard that annoying voice and stupid laugh.  Yep, it was Jeff Brown, the DJ from CHEZ 106 in Ottawa.  Couldn't stand him there, can't here.  Couldn't we have left him back east? 

He tells stories he thinks are hilarious.  They're not.  Unknowingly insults his wife at every turn.  Laughs at all his own stupid remarks.  Has a voice that breaks when he laughs too hard.  And has a distracting and off-putting way of pronouncing "ing".  Instead of saying "having", for example, he says "haveen" or "comeen" or "talkeen".  It's all very strange and irritating -- especially for a radio announcer who is supposed to have, if not perfect command, then at least some sort of facility with the language.

To boot, he's a Leafs fan.  I mean, come on.

Have to find another station.

What was that noise?

Awakening this morning, I heard a strange noise, a sort of whirring rushing sound.  Did someone leave the water running all night?  But no, folks, it was the furnace.  Yep, June 20th and it is so cold here the furnace kicked in.  Watching the national news and weather last night -- with annoyingly-smug and self-satisfied Peter Mansbridge and infernally-perky and bouncy Claire Martin -- I longed for the heat wave now hitting Southern Ontario.  Please, please, just a teensy bit of heat!  "We have an arctic air mass stalled over Calgary and parts of Saskatchewan," she beamed irritatingly.  Yes, we certainly do.

All the "experts" say we are to experience a very hot, dry summer.  G-d, I hope so.

A word about the Jason Kenney fiasco on twitter.  The media is awash in hand wringing over the message he sent out the other day, labelling deputy Alberta premier Thomas Luckaszuk....."a complete and utter a--hole."  The airwaves and pundit shows are full of reporters talking about how he must have hit "reply all" by mistake.  Ah, but maybe not.  That sly fox and expert chess player, Stephen Harper, may have ordered the hit to displace media coverage of his repugnant omnibus budget bill -- the one into which he has stuffed a ton of other legislation about which no one has a clue.

He succeeded perfectly.  And Kenney has nothing to worry.  He's a star in cabinent and was likely all too keen to take the hit, knowing full well when Harper shuffles his cabinet in a few months, he'll be promoted.

Speaking of Kenney, CTV had a few "expert authorities" on yesterday, re-hashing the offensive tweet.  One was the infamous Tom Flanagan -- always to be counted on for saying something completely wild and off-the-wall.  When asked what he thought of Kenney's comments, Flanagan said -- live, on camera with his face hanging out -- "Oh I wouldn't worry about that.  Jason was probably having trouble with his hemorrhoids that day."  Can you believe that!  On national television.  Hard to top!        

It's all about me

The Father's Day card I bought for B featured a lovely woman, reclining on a chaise lounge, arms behind her head, saying, "You're a perfect dad and a perfect husband.....so it's only fitting you should have a perfect wife."  Yep, that's about it.  He loved it.

By the way, I received a hilarious e-mail from "Dan at The Cutting Edge".  He was suitably chagrined and mortified about my awful haircut.  What a good writer he is.  I told him he should do a blog because who has more material than a hair stylist!  I mean, we tell these guys EVERYTHING.  I think I wrote about why, because they stand behind us, thus no direct eye contact -- sort of like the confessional.  But all Dan's clients would know about whom he was blogging -- or would they?  Superiorly perched in his chair, temporarily impervious to anything and everything, most women  are firmly convinced the world revolves around them and would probably never guess the "beeotch" about whom he was complaining was she.

Thought of you this morning in the pool, Dan.  Remember when we bumped into each other at the Plant Bath in Ottawa and watched that fat aquafit instructor leading a class from the pool deck?  Remember how she lumbered and boomed around, causing every bit of excess flesh to jiggle, jaggle and sway?  Remember I said, "Yeah, I'm gonna join that class 'cause I wanna look just like she does."  Hey, I'm here to lose weight, not gain it.  Remember how we both nearly drowned laughing?  Well, there's another just like her here at the Y.  It's a scream.  She's about 12 years old and weighs over 200 -- I swear.  She rumbles out on deck, knees taped, and starts the class.  All the women are in their 60s and 70s, but they look way better than she.  "If you have bad knees or hips like I do," she yells into the mike, "just move this way."  Hey, maybe the reason you have bad knees and hips at 12 is a direct result of the heft you've piled on top of them.

I asked one of the lifeguards if she were an employee.  "No she's a volunteer."  Well I would hope so.      

Blog stats facinate me

To date, 8,446 people have read my blog.  As I type, 15 people are reading one post or another all around the world "now", one of the categories bloggers can check.  I have few followers because you don't have to be one to read it, but thousands of readers.  They live mostly in Canada and the US, but also in Russia, Germany, the UK, Malaysia (Hi Tina), Argentina, India, China, Latvia, Korea and Brazil....among others. 

Readers are using mostly windows, but also mac's, ipads, iphones, linux and blackberries.  Facinating -- and a little daunting if I let myself think about it.  So, I don't.

The most-read blog remains one I wrote on June 30, 2010, entitled "One little, two little, three little Indians", no clue why?  The next most popular is one from October 4, 2010, called "Prostitutes and Pillars of the Community".  The word "prostitute" in the title probably attracts the perverts; they will be disappointed it's not porn.  The Esquire Show Bar review and the one about drug-addict Whitney Houston's death also rank right up there, as does my take on "High Heels in London".  I don't mind admitting that it's cool to see how the number of people reading me has mushroomed since I began in 2008.  How can it have been four years!?

As I have said many times, I blog for myself because having been a writer all my life I love to write, but it's kind of neat to think you can amuse, bore or annoy (I was going to say "piss off", but became daunted at the last minute) thousands around the world.

New take on Churchill

This is a good article............


http://www.calgaryherald.com/opinion/op-ed/Cohen+Winston+Churchill+history+indispensable/6771618/story.html

Math

Just heard on the radio that a local math teacher had been voted Alberta's "teacher of the year" because he made math "fun".  Now there's an oxymoron -- math and fun in the same sentence. 

Apparently there are two kinds of brains:  the math kind and everyone else's.  I have the "everyone else" brain.  Thanks to my scientist and math genius father, I managed to scrape through high school math and snagged a 50 on the final grade 13 provincial exam.  I really think I failed, but was pushed through when the school reviewed the provincial grade.  Afterall, Nancy always had perfect homework, how could she have failed the final?!  Must have been a case of nerves, or "that time of the month".  The reason I always had perfect math homework was because my Dad could not go to bed until he had done it.  I would find it completed and accurate at the bottom of my bed every morning. 

Math was a complete mystery to me.  Except for algebra, which relies on logic (something I do possess), I had no clue about analytic geometry, trigonometry or calculus.  What the hell was trigonometry?  No teacher ever walked into the room on the first class in September and said, "We are now going to learn trigonometry.  This is what trig is, this is what it is used for, this is why we learn it."  No, the teacher just walked in and started on about pythagorean identity, inverse trigonometric functions, law of sines, law of cosines, vectors and polar coordinates (no, that's not from my "else" brain, got all that from googling "trigonometry").  My Dad used to do calculus for fun and recreation.  Feature it!?  Remember the high school math club?  As if you didn't get enough math torture in regular class, no these kids had to form a club to get more.  Why play basketball when you could do math?

Googling "trigonometry" a few minutes ago still told me nothing about its purpose.  I seem to vaguely recall it had something to do with being able to navigate a ship by the stars.  Yeah, I'm really going to be doing that on my next cruise.  Here's what I read:

"The most familiar trigonometric functions are the sine, cosine, and tangent. In the context of the standard unit circle with radius 1, where a triangle is formed by a ray originating at the origin and making some angle with the x-axis, the sine of the angle gives the length of the y-component (rise) of the triangle, the cosine gives the length of the x-component (run), and the tangent function gives the slope (y-component divided by the x-component). More precise definitions are detailed below. Trigonometric functions are commonly defined as ratios of two sides of a right triangle containing the angle, and can equivalently be defined as the lengths of various line segments from a unit circle. More modern definitions express them as infinite series or as solutions of certain differential equations, allowing their extension to arbitrary positive and negative values and even to complex numbers."

Got that?  Imagine hanging out with people who think that's fun?! 

Every year at exam time my friends would line up so my Dad could tutor them in math.  He loved it.  It must have been a shock to him when I became a writer.  Nevertheless, he was always my biggest cheerleader.  B said a while back, when someone was criticizing him, "Hey, buddy, get in the race or hand me a water bottle."  That's what my Dad always did.  Adored the guy.   

Strange object in the sky

Awakening this morning and opening the blinds, I saw a strange, unidentified object in the sky.  Unrecognizable, it had been predicted by experts for weeks and rumours abounded about possible sightings.  The almanac and local folklore attested that a rare appearance was definitely in the offing, but when it appeared it was jarring.  Driving to the pool, I spotted many Calgarians outside, curious and anxious to experience this abnormal phenomenon.  Yes, folks, it was the sun -- barely recognizable after so many, many days of ugly clouds and cold rain.  Unfortunately, we have been told it will not reappear for quite a while. 

Another surprise awaited me when I entered the pool deck -- this time in human form.  As I lowered myself into a lane, a HUGE man lumbered in and prepared to enter......no.....please....not in my lane.  Oh G-d, I winced.  Here we go, a big, fat whale to manoeuvre around.  Then he started to swim and blew us all away.  Man, this guy could really pound it!  After making my usual smug, incorrect assumptions, I was subsequently astounded at his prowess in the water. 

I stood corrected, as he had to move into a faster lane to escape the rest of us.

In so many ways Canadians are different

Musing the other day about how John Edwards is being prosecuted as a criminal in the US for having a child out-of-wedlock with his mistress.  Oh, there's some funny money involved, but basically it's because he fooled around on his sainted wife.  It helped that she was dying of cancer at the time.  Nevermind that she apparently was a shrew, poor guy, what was he supposed to do to relieve his stress?    Remember Bill Clinton's impeachment?  Same deal.

Contrast that with how Canadians handle such peccadillos.  Pierre Trudeau fathered a child outside the marriage bed.  He was 73 at the time.  What did Canadians do?  Took it in stride, discreetly congratulated him and moved on.  The woman with whom he had this particular affair (one of many) was a top-notch constitutional legal expert with whom he was working during the Meech Lake "crisis", Deborah Coyne.  She also happened to be the niece of former Bank of Canada governor, the late James Coyne.  Trudeau admitted paternity of Sarah Elizabeth with pride, took pains to look after this daughter financially and there they were, mother and daughter, seated prominently at his funeral.

That's the way Canadians react, reasonably and sensibly.  Americans remain deeply puritanical. 

Money is another way in which we differ.  Americans have "In God We Trust" stamped on their currency, equating money with The Almighty; Canadians honour the Queen, not God, on most of our coinage. 

Trudeau was an astonishing ladies' man.  When Lester Pearson chose him as his successor as Liberal leader, whispers lurked that Trudeau was gay; he was quite effeminate, as you will recall.  A back-room boy was tagged to discreetly ask him about the rumors.  "Really," said Trudeau, "Leave me alone in a room with any wife of any minister for 15 minutes to find out."

You  gotta love that one!  

And then I met Fatima

She always had a sober look on her face when we would meet at the Y; today I found out why.  Mumbling as I got off the scales this morning, I said "hi" to her as usual.  "How are you," she said.  "Still fatter than I would like," I vainly bitched.  "But look at you, you've got such a beautiful figure."  "You don't want to lose weight the way I did," she added.  "I lost my son last Halloween.  He was 20." 

Suddenly my weight seemed such a petty matter to be worrying about.  Fatima's plight put it into horrifying perspective.  I remember the car accident that took his life.  As usual it involved a bunch of kids who had had too much to drink, resulting in a head-on crash when the young driver ran a red light at John Laurie and Sarcee -- right around the corner.  Flowers still adorn the intersection, a picture of her son still there.

Another dear friend lost her son when he was but 24.  How can mothers handle this?  I have no idea, but both my friend and Fatima are bravely carrying on for the sake of their other children and grandchildren.  I stand in awe of both. 

Wearing a winter coat

If you can believe the weather here, it was four this morning (that's about 42 F for my American readers) and it's only going to 13 (about 50 F).  I look with profound pity on my brave, struggling little flowers, forlorn and sad in their pots on the back patio.  Hauled out a winter coat to go to the pool this morning, it was brutal.  I HATE THE WEATER IN CALGARY.

Just back from Rona, where I bought a dandelion remover.  You have to do it the hard way, those weed killers never work; they just make your lawn look like a scruffy dandelion graveyard.  Anyway, a total stranger came up to me and starting raving about the weather.  There we were, both garbed for a snow storm in the garden centre.  Quite the existential juxtaposition! 

As if to tease and torture, it will be beautiful and sunny one day and then plunge the next.  When we came here last July to reconoitre and buy a house it was absolutely gorgeous and hot, so I didn't give a thought to what was in store.  And when we moved at the end of August, it was still beautiful.  I sometimes wonder if I'd have moved, had I known the weather situation.  But no, when I look at darling Reed, I know we made the right decision. 

Was this a drive-by pickup attempt?

A guy tried to pick me up the other night........OK, not a "guy" exactly, more like a man........well, not a "man" exactly, more like an older man.....but actually younger than I....late 50's.  Found myself on my own in early May with nothing to do (B had gone to Ottawa to receive his Jubilee medal), so took an aquaintance up on her suggestion that we hit a local bar.  Why not, I said.  Haven't hit a bar in an evening with another woman in a hundred years.

Now, this gal (we'll call her "C") is in her early forties and in unbelieveable shape, totally ripped.  She used to be into body sculpting and won all kinds of competitions, so you know what I am talking about.  "You may not want to go out with me," I said, glancing in disbelief at her rock-hard stomach and textured arms in the changing room at the Y.  "I might make you look bad!"  Everyone screamed.

Anyway, rumaged around for an outfit that took advantage of the weight I've lost, found a spectacular pair of earrings, slapped on the war paint, strapped on the high heels and met her for drinks at the local "Joey Tomato" in Crowfoot.  As we sat there laughing and yakking, the man next to me started up a conversation.  "Do you come here often?"  I looked around, who me?  "Yes, often with my husband, but he's out of town so I'm here with my girlfriend."  Maybe it was the bit about the husband being out of town that spurred him on...he kept going.  Naturally, I assumed he was after C.  (A man hasn't hit on me in a bar for quite a while.)  "Do you live around here?"  Who me?  "Yes, just up in Citadel."  The fact that I kept giving him the back of my head and flashing my wedding rings didn't deter him one bit.

C spotted a couple of girlfriends she worked out with across the bar and headed over, leaving me alone with the relentless and persistent "Mr. Goodbar".  I guess he had taken a gander at C, figured he had no chance, lowered his sights and zeroed in on me.  Then he started on about how his wife had died (was that to get sympathy?  Didn't work), about how his son and kids were so busy he hardly saw them (like I care!), about how he had just moved to Calgary and didn't know many people (no wonder!), can I buy you a drink? (as if!).

Instead of coming to my rescue, C and her friends just stood there laughing uproariously at my unsuccessful attempts to give him the breeze.  After what seemed like an eternity, C finally took pity on me and returned.  I could have killed her.  At that Casanova finally got the hint and ceased bending my exasperated ear.  When B returned and I told him about this bizarre episode he said, "Well I'm not surprised.  You look pretty good for an old broad."

That was a back-handed compliment if ever I had heard one, but I grabbed it.

        

Dear Dan at 'The Cutting Edge'

Dear Dan,

I am a little annoyed you never comment on my blog -- which I know you read.  You even dine out on it, remember Maniwaki?  Remember the dumb broad from Kirkland Lake on her cellphone in the hospital waiting room?  If you'd kept in touch you'd know I still use First Choice, a hit-and-miss sweat shop if ever there were one!  Went yesterday and told the girl that the last time I went the person, or felon, who cut my hair (read, removed it) went a little far........you know going around once with the scissors and then going around again and then going around again and then going around again.......you get the picture.  But what did she do?  Exactly the same thing!  Why do we women sit there, watching our hair being hacked and ruined and say nothing??!!  The power you people have over us!  I fell into a sort of blind coma and torpor, as she hacked away. 

When we lived in Ottawa, I could always pop in and you would fix everything.  Where are you when I need you!!??  Today, thanks to what's-her-name, I look like one of those French women who collaborated with the nazis in WW II and had their heads shaved!  All that is missing is the out-of-wedlock bastard child I am holding as I am paraded through the village streets in shame!

When I walked in the door, B took one look and kindly said, "It'll grow."  I may now have to put the bathing cap on in the car before I hit the pool and stay indoors until it grows out a bit.

I certainly hope you feel bad about this, you should!

Sincerely,
Nancy

Clotheslines

I adore my clothesline -- even if it currently only consists of a couple of portable ones I lug out the back.  I have always had a clothesline.  The way clothes smell when they dry on a line is incomparable.  To sink into crisp, white, cotton sheets that have dried on the line, to bury your head in a sharply-ironed pillow case that has waved freely in the backyard breeze, or to dry yourself after a shower with a towel rough and irregular from vigorous and determined flapping is to experience a little bit of heaven.  And there is something innocent, charming and enchanting about clothespins -- especially the captivating wooden variety of yesteryear.   

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Mondays, when I would help my mother with the wash -- operating the deadly ringer machine from a very young age, filling the huge aluminum rinsing tubs and then clambering up onto a chair to help her hang it out.  She taught me how to slam the ringer release bar, should my little hand ever become squished between the menacing rollers.  Can you imagine letting a four-year-old operate a lethal machine such as that today?  I was barely out of toddler-hood.  That was my mother, she taught us responsibility at a very early age (like making your bed at two), but combined it with caution.  Years later, when we started going to the cottage in Point Comfort, the only washing machine the "madames" used in the clubhouse was a lone ringer one.  Cottagers were allowed to use it on weekends and guess who never had to compete for laundry time!?  I loved it all, still do.

I also love ironing and iron pillow cases without fail.  I don't go quite as far as my mother, who ironed sheets, but far enough.  In fact, right now I am trying to get through a mountain of ironing that has accumulated thanks to my bad shoulder, that annoying and exasperating body part that won't permit me to do the front crawl either.  So, I am trying to iron with my left hand -- a grim and problematic chore.

Well, back outside to my laundry lines.  By the way, how dumb is it that the condo development where we live will not allow clotheslines.  With everyone re-cycling like mad and our illustrious burghers and city fathers ordering residents to use 15 different kinds of refuse bins, you would think backyard lines would be encouraged -- maybe even made mandatory -- as are the bins.  But no, sorry folks, can't put up a line.  Thankfully, I have my drying racks; the wondrous green grass, breeze and sunshine aroma is the same.

More on entitled students...........

The ridiculous sense students have of entitlement and expectation for "no work" is insane...........!!

http://www.calgaryherald.com/news/Entitlement/6737026/story.html

The "Casse Croute"

If you live in Eastern Ontario, Quebec, or the french parts of the Maritimes, you know about the "casse croute".  Just heard a wonderful piece on "C'est la Vie" on CBC about these marvellous little roadside not-really cafes we all knew and loved, growing up taking family car trips in the country or to the cottage. 

The casse croute doesn't really have an equivalent anywhere else in the world, in fact, I don't even know how to translate it.  Usually, fashioned from old buses or ancient RVs, they stood on the side of the road, usually with a hideous, plastic awning over the serving window.  You could eat at one of the picnic tables provided, or just sit in your car and people-watch fellow travellers from all walks of life -- labourers to millionaires, cops to biker gang members, they all stopped at the casse croute.

They were always run by a ton of members of the same family, all rushing around shouting orders in French.  With names, such as "Chez Bob Burger", or our favourite, "Chicken Blood" -- named by us in honour of  the chickens that used to hang draining in the back after their demise -- the casse croute had absolutely the best fries, hotdogs and hamburgers in the world.  The fries, served in cardboard cartons, were very greasy and slightly soggy, the hotdogs always served in buns with the sides sliced off and the hamburgers freshly-grilled to perfection.

On the way to the cottage, it was a ritual to stop halfway and load up on the best-tasting, greasiest food in the province.  What a treat.  I am using the past tense to describe these establishments, but there are still many thriving on roads and highways all across the province.  Alas for me, the casse croute is a thing of the past, as none exist in Alberta -- or west of francophone Ontario, for that matter.  And you can't compare street vendors to the casse croute because the former serve entirely different food, such as sausages or bratwurst, for example.  No, the casse croute serves only fries, dogs and burgers............and oh yes, poutine!

Personally, I have never tasted poutine -- that uber-greasy bowl of cheese curds and french fries smothered in gravy.  But people love it -- especially the Americans up at our cottage who used to crowd the local greasy spoon in Gracefield to chow down on it.

Ah yes, memory lane once again.  

She just "Is"

One of my favourite preachers, Charles Stanley, said, "The thing about God is that God is God."  Absolutely.  Watching the jubilee celebrations this weekend, I was reminded of this maxim.  The Queen is The Queen.  When anyone talks about "The Queen" anywhere in the world, we all know to which Queen they refer:  Elizabeth II.  One does not have to add, "The Queen of.........."  She just "Is".  Similarly with The Pope.  These three are all "absolutes".  They are incomparable. 

Every now and then, when I flip to CNN -- one of the most insular and isolationist networks on the ether (pretty much the equivalent of US foreign policy) -- I marvel at how unaware Americans are about anyone else in the world.  It's all about the US and Obama and Romney and Gingrich and this and that and what senator said this and what congressman said that and on and on and on and on and on................It's astounding how "only-about-us-all-the-time" the US remains.  Remember the tragedy when that young man was beheaded on a greyhound bus near Winnipeg by a lunatic?  You would have thought the American networks would have picked that one up, but, no.  I think they covered Michelle Obama's wardrobe instead.  (By the way, I think she dresses abominably -- always a stripe on a check or a plaid, a jacket from out-of-nowhere, finished with a crinoline under a flared skirt thrown in for bad measure, topped with bizarre jewellery..........but I digress.)   


As I said, I remain an ardent monarchist and so proud to be Canadian. 

I think I'm ready............

..........for food..............

All I get to eat is the plate...........won't be long!

The "skinny" on the "real" Vancouver housewives

I started watching this stupid show to see if I recognized any of the locales.  Of course not, because I do not live in a gated community in WestVan.  But these women slay me.  Rail thin, they nonetheless drink ALL the time.  What's up with that?  My daughter tells me it's because they don't eat.  Guess that explains it because each is of a "certain age", you know, when you can't actually eat one pathetic burger once a month and stay thin.  Trust me, living on carrots and air, I know.

As a matter of fact, I am shamelessly tuned into an episode right now about........natch.......a trip to Okanagan wine country.  What else!

Met a woman the other night whose sister's ex-husband's brother (got that?) is the gay guy on the show.  I mean, talk about six degrees of separation -- hello Kevin Bacon.

The deal is that each woman has money because of a guy who either made lots of it and is still married to the woman (the smart guys), or a guy who had to fork over a ton of it in a divorce.  Sad that some women foul the nest for the rest of us.    

The Guys at the Pool

Saturday mornings there is a group of macho guys who swim together -- well, not exactly "swim", they more or less hang at the end of a lane and talk about swimming..........at lot..........in great detail.  I am still relegated to the slow lane plodding along with the breast and back stroke because of my shoulder, but I swear, I get more lengths in than they do combined.  Oh, they hammer a couple of laps every now and then, but have to stop and talk about how hard they swim, what strokes are the best, what times they post per lap.  It's quite funny to watch them watching their watches, waiting for the hand to be in the right position for them to have another go....maybe, or maybe not.

And, of course, they wear the flippers and the hand paddles, the caps and the goggles and make more splash than a commercial wave pool!  Do they think harder pounding with the pads makes for a tougher workout?  It's really amusing.

But one thing guys, unless you are actually in a meet, please, please lose the speedos.  They are hideous, grotesque, obscene and disgusting -- very jarring at 7 a.m. 

   

This about sums it up.............

Here is a great cartoon a friend sent me............