"...Not re-distribute today's..."

That's what he said.  "Americans have to create and enjoy wealth, not re-distribute today's."  See, that's the problem with the Republicans.  Romney actually said that.  After talking about "motherhood and apple pie" and his idyllic upbringing in Detroit, his perfect parents, his wonderful children, his stalwart wife with MS, he preached-and-promised prosperity for all...Republicans. 

But, hey, it doesn't wash.  The sea was white.  Not a single black face did I see.  The prosperity he promises seems to be for "whites only".  Sort of like the old water-fountains.  Unfortunately, the US is more polarized than ever, thanks to Barack Obama as president.  I think one could have previously found a black Republican or two, but with Romney and Obama as the leading protagonists they have disappeared.  Completely.  All blacks seem now forced to be Democratics.  Amazingly, much as everyone thought it had abated, the US is as black and white as ever.  The sea of white faces at the Republican convention, fed up with Obama, cememted that.  Scratch the surface and it's the American Civil War all over again. 

In Canada, we re-distribute wealth.  That's what it's all about.  We look after our weak.  It's not about personal wealth --although there are many very wealthy Canadians.  We still re-distribute wealth to those who need it.  It's called taxes -- they very thing Republicans want to lower.  You can't have a functioning country unless all citizens are looked after -- at least on a very basic level. 

Listening to Romney last night, I thought we were back in the '50s.  He seemed to be promising a return to the white picket fence and a big chev in every driveway.  The world has passed the guy by.  His $$millions$$ insulate him from the hard reality that is the US today.  And the audience loved it.  Wild cheers every time he used a tired cliche.  It was cringe-making.

So, if you're white (...not including rich actors and liberal thinkers, just middle and rich Americans) it's Romney.  If you're black it's Obama. Oh, and if you have MS it's Romney. 

 

      

A pleasant surprise

The show 'Suits' has caught my attention.  Normally, I do not watch drama series' or sticoms, but I happened upon this particular show and was struck -- I might even say "dumb" -- by the excellent writing it showcases.  Biting and acerbic, it actually throws me off-guard, waiting for the next bonmot to be delivered.  It's life in a law firm as a poker game, just like life in "real life".   

As you may know, it revolves around a high-powered New York law firm (it's actually filmed in Toronto) and features the most devious and back-stabbing lawyers you will ever run across -- unless, of course, you actually work in a high-powered law firm and then it's ho-hum all 'round.

Every line is unique, funny or wiltingly sarcastic.  No "real" lawyer can possibly be that smart and on-the-ball all the time, but on this show they are all masters of the English language, with all its cruel barbs and and idiomatic sarcasm.  Even the paralegals, secretaries and clerks are brilliantly witty.  Were Oscar Wilde alive, he might have penned it himself. 

Googling, I learned it is written by someone named Aaron Korsh.  All I can say is, bravo to you Mr. Korsh.  Do yourselves a favour and watch it.       

   

A year already!

Hard to believe, but we moved here exactly one year ago today.  The baby was not yet born and we didn't know he was a "he"; we had to await our furniture and imposed on our daughter and son-in-law for more than a week.  So much has happened since then. 

As I have said, we love Calgary.  Found a new parish quickly, joined a local dining club, joined the Y and explored this part of Alberta.  Then Reed arrived.  He is eight months old, not as long on earth as he was developing inutero.  But, as with all babies, it's hard to imagine life before he joined us. 

We are now planning to go to Hawaii for the famous Kona world iron man competition in mid-October.  Colin placed so well in his category that he won a spot.  So, we're all going.  Have to fly United to Phoenix and then on Phoenix Air directly to Kona.  (Didn't even know there was a "Phoenix Air"?)  A long trip, but another adventure!

Life continues well here in Alberta.   

A PR coup

Back then you had to.  Everyone in the Tour de France used "banned" susbstances when Lance won his championships.  If you didn't, you had no chance of winning.  A level playing field meant dope for all.  I have absolutely no problem with Lance's use of performance-enhancing drugs, the guy was still better than everyone else -- better at metabolizing the drugs, better at cycling, better at passing the tests, just better at everything.  He deserved to win and the witch hunt trained on him for so many years has been a joke. 

It was the french who were after him, what's new! (sorry FL-J, but it's true).  The french just could not stand an American winning and winning and winning -- and not getting caught.

And now he is better at escaping.  What a PR coup to just say I've had enough, the hundreds of tests I've passed speak for themselves, the riders I have beaten know I beat them.........that's it, I'm done.  Doesn't admit it, doesn't deny it.  Never has.  Just as they were ready to enjoy a public lynching, with witnesses lined up against him, Lance washes his hands and declares he will no longer fight...."for the sake of my family".  Absolutely perfect.  Give that PR team a big raise.  Imagine turning a potential disaster of that magnitude into a victory.  Memo to Lindsay Lohan:  hire those guys. 

The ravenous dogs will not get their day in court and Lance remains unscathed.  A hero to all, regardless of the fact they are taking away his medals.  Who cares!  He won (un)fair and (un)square.  Plain and simple.

His foundation will carry on and he will prevail.  Just as he always has.  Ya gotta love the guy.

It wasn't a costume

Spent most of yesterday at the Calgary Tennis Club.  It was the 100th anniversary of this venerable institution, right in downtown Calgary in the middle of a beautiful, old neighbourhood.  If anyone remembers the original Rideau Tennis Club in Ottawa, that's it.  Small-ish, quaint, working canteen, kind-of dilapidated locker rooms, vast balcony, eccentric members -- that's what it's like.  I love it.  No longer play tennis -- my hips won't permit it -- but I go down and watch B charm all the ladies in the round robins.  Very funny.  My job is to drink wine.

The place was festooned with artifacts and bunting and players were asked to don "vintage" tennis outfits for play.  B wore white trousers, a white shirt, wool vest, linen jacket and a "real" panama hat.  Hilariously, they handed out prizes for the best-dressed and most imaginative costumes and B won!  The hilarious part is that it wasn't a "costume".  That's how he actually dresses!  Brought up by his grandparents, B has very "Victorian" values and mores which linger to this day.

B and Mary, winners of the "costume" contest

 Part of the entertainment was an exhibition match between the resident pro and a young professional named Sam Garforth-Bles.  The latter won.  What a great match it was.  I thought of a young John McEnroe, playing at his local club in Queen's and then advancing to the heights of the tennis world.  This guy is something else. 

After the match we congratulated him and met his father, Tim.  Spent the entire afternoon and evening blabbing with them and dragging out "the old school tie".  Wouldn't you know it, the father is a Brit and went to Sandhurst, has Indian colonial roots.........all the same stuff as B.  I plan to keep track of Sam's career.  The guy is 22, won a tennis scholarship to Rice University in Houston, was named Alberta's Male Provincial Player of the Year, second-ranked under-18 player in Canada, ranked 88th in the world by the ITF, won a combined 34 singles and doubles titles, two-time Canadian national champion, winner of the ITF Costa Rica Bowl, competed in the Australian, US Open and Junior Wimbledon tournaments and is a member of the Canadian Davis Cup team.  He is completely cool. 

And polite!  My dear, almost to a fault. 


   

She'd flip!

My mother wouldn't just turn over in her grave, she'd flip!  Whatever has become of the once-mighty United Church of Canada?  The latest snafu is its decision to boycott products exported by Israeli settlements on the West Bank, claiming that these were the obstacles to peace.  Then they proceed to elect an "out", same-sex married guy as the moderator.  Not stopping there, they celebrate an avowed atheist serving in a Toronto pulpit because, "she causes us to think more deeply about the nature of our faith".

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?)()*)^&^)_(_*&$%^&*)(*&^%!!!!!!

The United Church used to be, well.............The United Church.  It was the bulwark of Canada.  United Church women, busy making sandwiches and hosting bazaars and teas in parish basements, ran the country.  The United Church stood for everything that was "sensible".  It was reasonable and accepting.  But now "acceptance" has run amok.  It started back in 1997, when they elected Bill Phipps as moderator.  Bill immediately declared he didn't believe in the Resurrection -- or even that Jesus was God.  Huh!!??  He topped it off by saying that he "had no idea if there was an afterlife".  Apparently, things have slid downhill from there. 

I was raised in the United Church.  Every decent value I hold was nourished there by some of the finest people you'll ever meet.  Little old ladies who cherished children, fine gentlemen whose manners would put the King of England to shame, matrons who gave and gave and gave............it was a very civil place, nurtured by proper, civic-minded, sober, law-abiding people.

Now the lunatics have taken over the asylum.

They seem to have forgotten that they are a "Christian Church" and have instead morfed into some sort of left-wing club.  The United Church's path of self-destruction continues unabated, as theology and belief are sacrificed in the name of "social justice".  "Wishy-washy" is the order of the day, as sermons devoid of biblical truth ring out over almost-empty pews.  Having let an atheist into the pulpit, how can it actually call itself a church?  It is ludicrous.

No wonder church membership has plummeted 50 percent over the past 50 years.  Predictions are that it will fall another 50 by 2025 and be zero by 2040.  Needless to say, finances are in free-fall.  Catholics and evangelicals are now the leading voices in Canada.  I guess that's because they actually have a Christian message. 

As I look back on my childhood in the United Church of Canada, I treasure the sunday school lessons I learned.  It gave me a love of "the word" and the Old Testament, which I do not get in my adopted Catholic religion -- much as I love the latter for many other reasons.

Dear old United Church.  Last one out, turn off the lights. 

     



 

Sorry, but I'm right about the guy

"Jack Layton underestimated the dangerous nexus created when economic decisions are taken out of the hands of consumers and shareholders and placed in the hands of politicians and bureaucrats.  His ideas would have made Canada and the world poorer, with the most vulnerable being the first to suffer."  So wrote Mark Milke, senior fellow with the Fraser Institute. 

Someone who knows far more than I about politics and economics thinks Layton would have been a disaster.  "...good intentions (and Layton had them in spades) do not necessarily lead to good outcomes.  They are never enough to create a country of peace, prosperity, order and good government," Milke added in his column today.   On the contrary, when politicians are given too much arbitrary economic power you get banana republics because governments can then deny or approve this or that business development instead of developing laws and regulations to manage them.

Layton's problem was that he believed too fervently in the ability of bureaucrats and politicians to direct the economy properly.  They don't.  When more control over economic decisions is given to people who already have a ton of it, the potential for corruption multiplies.  Just a fact.  By the way, welcome to the Conservative government of Alberta!  As Lord Acton said, "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."  Jack thought everyone was a noble-minded as he.  Please.

Never underestimate the Canadian voter.  Sure everyone liked Jack, how could you not?  Nice guy, but in the end we wouldn't give him the keys to the car. 

Is it just me?

There are grungy objects in my beautiful home I never see.  Like the kitchen sink.  I use it all the time, but never "see" it.  This evening, for some reason, I had a "one-off" gander at it.  Man!  It's gross.  My kitchen is spotless, but my sink is..........well, you know....When in my kitchen I am preparing or cleaning up food.  Why would I notice the bloody sink?  Read somewhere that your kitchen drain hosts the most bacteria in your entire abode.  Not even toilets compete.   And if you toss your kitchen rag (my darling father used to call them "rags" because that's what they did with old fabric in the early 1900's) on the overhanging tap, well, that's the second-most-bacteria-ridden object in your house.  Guilty!

I remember my own mother using the kitchen rag for everything -- from wiping up chicken blood, to cleaning knives, to wiping counters, to spot-cleaning the floor to wiping our faces.  She did the same thing with her grandchildren.  "Oh, don't be ridiculous.  You have to eat a peck of dirt before you die," she would proclaim if ever I commented.  Rarely. 

If you walked into my house, you would proclaim it "immaculate".  Guess not. 

Other endroits I don't notice?  Top of the fridge (I'm too short), tops of picture frames, stove hood, stove fan, stove back, chandelier crystals, top of the toilet-paper holder, toaster, kettle, mirrors, the tracks under door-frames, baseboards,...........I could go on.  Anyone with me here??  Is it only me, or are most women scouring toilets, yet ignoring the peripheral niceties of.....whatever?

My late mother-in-law, Edna Russell -- a woman I loved dearly -- used to "spring-clean" her home.  What did that entail?  A lot of work.  She took everything out of every kitchen cupboard and scoured.  She then re-washed every dish before putting it back.  She also washed walls.  Who does that?  She scrubbed and waxed floors on her hands and knees.  Her home was immaculate.  I used to sit in awe of her.  She was a very humble and wonderful woman. 

We all miss Grandma Russell.     



   

So, now, do I

"Holt Renfrew, Holt Renfrew," yelled the audience of a Toronto talk show when Diane Keaton asked them to guess which store she was planning to shop at.  "Oh no, Joe Fresh," she told them.  "I love the clothes there."

This is the fashion advice dispensed by one of the most glamorous and uniquely-attired women on the planet.  She simply does not follow trends.  She blazes her own and always looks perfect.  That day she was wearing a tailored pant suit, with a hot silk flower accessory.  Perfect.  She can be annoying with her quirky and eccentric way of talking -- sort of a latter-day Sandy Dennis -- but she has humility and charm. 

I too have discovered Joe Fresh out here and now have a closet full of Ts, leggings, shirts and skirts.  If I paid $100 for the whole kit and kaboodle it'd be a stretch.  The stuff is usually cotton, light, airy, colourful and "with it".  They have goods for all ages and their baby selection is great (shopping for our grandson is how I discovered the place).

Not that this is an ad for Joe Fresh, it's simply meant to illustrate that you do not have to spend a fortune to look good.  Proof of this was Sharon-so-gorgeous-and-outrageous-it's-breathtaking-Stone's showing up at the Oscar's a few years ago in a black Gap T-shirt.  Who'd have the nuts to do that?!  Stole the show.          

More of the same nonsense

Not enough park, too much potential mining.  That's the position of the Tulita Dene Band, on whose historical land sits the newly-created Naats'inch'oh National Park Reserve in the Northwest Territories.  Oh course it is.  The natives and their fans seem to want Canada to be one big park -- theirs for the plucking. 

Someone has to cultivate and develop Canada's rich resources, but it never seems to be the natives.  "Land protection is the preference for our people," said Chief Frank Andrew.  "We're hoping for things to change."  Well, they won't.  "This is how we do national parks," said Alan Latourelle, CEO of Parks Canada.  "At the end, we create a park that works for conservation and ensures economic development and that's what we've done here."  Of course they have.   The park will protect 4,840 square kilometres, or 70 percent of the watershed along the South Nahanni River.  But for the natives and their supporters, that's not enough.  As I said, Canada should be stripped down to one big park. 

There are millions and millions of dollars worth of minerals in the portion of the park set aside for mining.  Canadians need to develop this resourse.  But the natives want neither to develop anything, nor cultivate land for farming.  In fact, they don't make much use of any of the reserve lands they have been given, except to hunt and fish (often selling the latter illegally commercially) and then turn around and complain bitterly and publically when anyone touches so much as a leaf in a forest.  But when money is made by industry on their lands (not really theirs; it's all federally-owned, but historically "theirs"), they certainly want a big, huge chunk of it.  No problem there.  Nervmind that these industries provide much-needed jobs for the impoverished communities in which they are located, no, we'd rather stay poor and live in squalor. 

It's all very boring and predictable, but Harper isn't buying it.  "Science will determine what is mined and how," he pointed out, brilliantly relegating the special interest groups to the periphery of the argument. 

As I have said, like him or not, he is a superb chess player.     



     

They didn't exactly scream "Cabbagetown"

Jack Layton's ties.  They were silk and had personalized "Jack Layton" labels hand-sewn into them.  How is that Cabbagetown-ish?  Cabbagetown is one of the poorest working-class neighbourhoods in Toronto.  Folks there don't wear ties, let alone the monogramed silk variety.  These were the folks the late NDP leader represented.  But the ties I saw today pretty much gave it away.

Afterall, Jack came from a privileged family in tony Hudson Quebec.  His father had been a member of Brian Mulroney's conservative government, but Jack had re-defined himself as a humble man-of-the-people -- except for the ties.....oh, and the ego.  Once privileged, always privileged.

Jack is back.  A year after his death, he is bursting all over the media.  A movie is being made of his life and a gigantic monument to his "humility" -- complete with bust sculpted by his widow -- is being unveiled at the prestigious Toronto Necropolis cemetary, where Canadian luminaries such as George Brown and William Lyon MacKenzie are buried.  Just watched an interview with The Widow Chow, another "privileged peasant" (read middle-class socialist), during which I gleaned his vaingloriousness.  (Sorry, don't like the woman.) 

I think I blogged about his completely bogus "state" funeral, but here we are with more of the same.  I mean Jack, just RIP.

      

Didn't make it

Dear "Hairburner",

Well Danny, we knew it would happen.  Got my hair cut.  I am now back to "normal", sporting sharply-shorn locks.  I may be kidding myself, but I think I look younger with cropped hair.  With my hair growing, I started to see a bonafide hag staring menacingly from the mirror -- you know the type, randomly curling hair sticking out here and there in all the wrong places, absolutely no style whatsoever....even the grey looked depressingly greyer.  I imagined it actually looking yellow!  Fear gripped me and I rushed to the local "chop shop", about which you warned me, and had it cut.

I feel so much better.  Out have come the HUGE earrings, the short skirts, the high heels and voila, I am back to being me.  I mean, how can I hit the pool every day and deal with long hair? 

Emmylou Harris, you're on your own.

Outlived it

With apologies to any offended reader, when Willie Nelson turned 75 he said, "I'm 75 and I've outlived my d-ck."  I kid you not.  I heard him in an interview actually say that.  I nearly died laughing.   

Sleeveless in Calgary

Yesterday I actually wore a sleeveless top.  I hate my upper arms.  Along with my shoulders, they are huge, thanks to swimming, among other things.  "Fat there too Mum," says daughter Susanne.  So, I have not worn a sleeveless top for about five years.  Yesterday I did.  "Do my arms look gigantic in this"? I asked B.  "Not as huge as they used to," he replied.  "You've lost a lot of weight."  Man, he dodged a bullet there!

Is there a remedy for underarm cellulite at 65? 

 

I knew it

Bursitis has no cure.  This was confirmed by my pharmacist friend, Ejenna Osakwe.  That's why all the google entries I make come back with people wanting to sell me something to cure it.  "Oh dear," she informed me at Mass yesterday, "bursitis has no cure.  You just have to stick with Celebrex."  I have been told many times that Celebrex is bad for you.  "Forget it, you are very healthy, so you can use it," she explained.  "What does that 'Do not consume alcohol while taking Celebrex' on the pill box mean?  Heck, half the time I am downing the pill with a glass of wine!"  She roared.  "You'll just get tipsy sooner," she replied.  Hey, I thought, cheaper.   

I have to tell you that Ejenna is the most beautiful woman in St. Luke's Parish.  Not only is she absolutely gorgeous, she is the nicest woman.  Her hubby, Carlton, is not too shabby either.  What a couple!  Very classy people.

     

Doubles

Enjoyed a fabulous afternoon at the Calgary Tennis Club.  Watched the Men's Doubles Tournament, it was amazing.  So fast! 

Today is our 32nd anniversary.  I can't believe it!  "But not always to the same woman," says B, when asked how long he has been married.  "I've been married 46 years, but not always to the same woman."  Very funny.  We were both married to other people, had our marriages annulled and here we are, having brought up four children with all the joyfully related catastrophes and blessings.  Man!

Back in 1983, B was given joint custody of his kids, unheard of at the time.  Then we actually got full custoday of Scott and Sarah.  Feature that.  Our lawyer and the family psychologist involved met on our case and have since teamed up -- regardless of the fact that they were on different sides of our custodial battle.  Their text book, by Bob Montague and Arthur Leonoff, is now part of the family law program at Canadian universities.  Royalties anyone?  Sadly, no.

Nevertheless, I am very grateful to have weathered what I have weathered.

      

An evening with Shania and Ahmad

My musical tastes are eclectic, to say the least.  Listened to Shania for a while -- I love her voice and her songs.  Let's remember one thing, Mutt Lange may have left Shania, but they both got their money's worth out of that marriage.  Without Mutt, Shania would have remained a backwater act from Timmins.  He was the genius who made her with his amazing production skills of her songs.   

And then Ahmad came on.  "Live at the Pershing" was recorded in 1958 and is one of the greatest jazz albums of all time. 

Ahmad Jamal was born in 1930 as "Frederick Russell Jones".  (Needless to say, he converted to Islam.)  He is one of the greatest jazz pianists...ever.  I was first introduced to Jamal by an old boyfriend, Rusty Davidson, back in 1964.  I mean, what teenager listened to jazz back then -- or ever??!!  Rusty did.  I just loved Jamal, especially "But not for me".  That song was majic.  We played and played it on his record player, remember those?  You put the album on and round and round it turned. 

I am not a big fan of jazz, but Ahmad Jamal hit me like a ton of bricks.  "Live at the Pershing" was old-style.  People coughing, clapping, drinks clinking, laughing...........it is all there on the album.  No studio stuff, no re-recording, no enhancements of any kind.  There they were, just playing, with a primative microphone stuck somewhere amid the instruments.  What amazes me about Jamal is not what he plays, but the notes he doesn't play.  You hear them in your head, but they are not there.  They don't have to be.  How does he do that!  He also uses the very highest keys on the piano to great effect.  The guy is a musical genius. 

Just googled him and enjoyed a concert on line.  I had not forgotten Rusty's album, but could not find it anywhere.  Luckily, I went on "E-Bay" and "presto-chango", there it was!  I bought his original Pershing CD.  A guy from Florida had one of the last copies and I snagged it.  Sublime.             

I miss Larry King

Piers Morgan is not Larry King.   He has replaced that time slot, but he is a complete bore.  Larry used to have all kinds of guests, politicians and movie stars, for examples.  These days, all Piers interviews are politicians.  So bloody boring.

Morgan is a Brit, but he has gone totally "native" and become an "American".  Poor guy.  His interviews consist entirely of American politicians.  Who cares?! 

Sad.

p.s.  A friend of mine called him "a narcissistic bore".  Couldn't have put it better myself.    

More "cheesieness"

I am no longer a member of Costco because I always spend $400 on toilet paper for a hundred years.  But I visited that store today.  What galled me?  The slobs who dined there.  I kid you not!  Every two feet there was a station out of which servers handed free food.  "Free" is the operative word.  I could not believe the people who grazed at Cosco...for free!

My companion shopper told me that Costco was like that, "they give away the food so people will buy it."  I have news for her, the people heaving it into their mouths will not be buying the product.  Some of them didn't even have carts.  They have only paid $55 to be a Costco member, but they certainly steal much more by merely dropping in for meals.  I saw the same people stuffing their faces at each station I passed.  Disgusting. 

Whenever I wonder what to do, I always ask myself, "What would Lilly do?"  Lillian, my mother, would never, ever, ever, have scarfed "free" food at Costco.  Never.

. 

   

   

Not surprised

...when the woman walking out of the Y this morning, reading a stolen Calgary Herald, was the same b-tch I meet every morning when I swim.  You just knew it had to be she.  A common thief, except these people don't think it's stealing.  A stack of complimentary newspapers is put out every morning for patrons to peruse while they are enjoying coffee in the little cafe just inside the entrance.  But lots of people just take the papers and stroll casually out.  Cheesier you could not get.  Hey, let's all cancel our subscriptions and just steal the Y's!

"I guess you can't stop them from stealing the papers," I said to Kelsey, the young attendant at the desk.  "You know, I have raised it with management and they say we really can't."  "Why not?  What's the logic here?  What's next?  The Y pays for their food, clothing and rent?" I said, taking it to the limit of reductio ad absurdum.  She laughed because there is no logic.  And you can always tell by their locker room attitudes which women are the thieves.  Their sense of entitlement is immense.  I am sure these are the same broads who steal towells...........and whatever else they can lay their sticky mitts on.

Other pool news?  One local pool was closed due to an outbreak of "cryptosporidium and pseudomonas", chlorine-resistant bacteria.  Yuck.  The Y is fine...........for the moment, but who knows?  The Herald featured a front-page article on the guck in the city section this morning, which may be why there were fewer patrons when I went.  Thank you to all the slobs who don't shower before they enter -- another thing the lifeguards claim they can't enforce.  Now, if I were still a lifeguard........!

Being uber-friendly with the lifeguards has it's advantages.  Every morning I tell them I expect a lane to myself.  We all laugh, but somehow they know I'm serious.  Like this morning, one lane was being used for a private swimming lesson for a kid who couldn't swim.  "I'll tell them to move to the smaller pool so you can have that lane to yourself," said the head lifeguard.  "Perfect," I replied.  And she did and they moved.  Gotta' love that service.

A tribute to both my families

"Akwe Nia'Tetewa: nerun".  In Mohawk, these words mean "all my relations".  My great-grandmother was a Mohawk from the Tyendinaga Reserve in Napanee.  Thankfully, she married off-reserve and thus I am not sniffing glue as we speak.

I was reminded of this reading an article about the United Church of Canada having adopted this Mohawk credo as part of it's crest.  The crest will now feature Mohawk language.  It will be updated to include the yellow, black, red and white of the traditional aboriginal medicine wheel "in acknowledgment that The United Church of Canada was founded, and continues to exist, on Indigenous land," says the task force that pushed for the change.

This is very true and dear to me.  My (adoptive and only) mother was a stalwart member of The United Church of Canada.  Where else would I have learned to be a "church lady"?  Where else would I have learned to make fancy sandwiches?  Where else would I have learned to sew aprons for the annual bazaar?  Where else would I have learned to brew and pour tea?  It was all about The United Church of Canada.  The basements of these establishments were the most civilized of places.  Never, ever scoff at "a church lady".  These women make the world go 'round. 

But I am also of Mohawk origin.  I am a convert to Catholicism.  So there you have it.  I am a Mohawk-United-Church-Catholic woman.     

I thought it was shooting!

The bullets started ripping around 9 p.m.  Or, at least that's what I thought they were.  But they were actually golfball-sized hail stones -- more like rocks!  The noise was deafening, as they pounded the roof.  My flowers!

I almost couldn't look outside.  When I did, I saw they were being pummelled.  I almost cried.  After all the babying and covering I did in the Spring, they were being clobbered.  All I can say is it's a good thing I took pictures given their dismal state this morning. 

This morning, no one at the pool seemed disturbed.  "Welcome to Calgary weather," said one woman I have gotten to know. 

Never ceases to amaze me. 

Hats

A few of my favourite hats................

This is my "Queen" hat, the one I wore when I met Her Majesty.  Bought this in Debenham's, London.

Found this in a second-hand shop.

Bought this in a shop in Toronto.

Happened upon this gem in Niagara-on-the-Lake.

Good friend, Barbara, gave me this when I visited Toronto a few weeks ago.

No clue where I bought this one??

Daughter, Sarah, bought this for me in Houston.

I do love hats!

Perfect

Watching two pretty good tennis players this morning at the Calgary Tennis Club whacking quite a few balls into the net B observed, "A lot more people could play tennis better if there wasn't a net."  I screamed!

"That's so passe it's passe," was another gem he dropped the other day.  "If you could only separate the crap from the crap", ranks right up there.  So does, "life is full of small victories and mediocre defeats."

He does have a way with words. 

I'm throwing it out there..........

Might anyone please tell me what the h-ll Hillary Clinton is doing with her hair?  The woman is 65 and has hair that..........??????  I have no clue............?????  What happened??!!  What is she thinking??!!  It is hideous. 

We "are" our hair.  We all know that.  So, what do my women readers think about her "do"?  What does "Hairburner" think?  What do all the followers of "Advance Style" think?  Help me out here!

Fungal man

Covered in a nasty, oozing red rash all over his body, he sat there as if everything were normal.  "Gee Jim, what's wrong with your skin?" asked one woman.  "It's a fungus," he replied.  She recoiled, as did everyone else on the balcony of the tennis club. A large empty circle formed around him, as we all nonchalantly sought other chairs and tables. 

Last time I checked, fungal infections were contagious.  But this guy was downright unconcerned.  He just sat there on a chair (I will never sit in again), enjoying the evening breeze, plastic gloves covering his hands.  I mean, come on!  If he's wearing gloves to protect himself from himself, what in G-d's name is he doing lounging around the rest of us at a tennis club??!!

Were it me, I would at least lie and say it was an allergy.  "You better see a skin doctor right away," said someone else.  "Oh, I have, it's getting better."  To my horror and alarm, he then wandered over and introduced himself, sticking out his hand to shake mine.  "You must be new members," he said.  "I don't think I should chance it," I explained to his revolting plastic glove.  I was mortified, he was completely undaunted. 

You could not make this up.

Maybe it is a curse?

"I'm going to think of it as a good luck charm," Canadian olympic gold and silver medalist, triathlete Simon Whitfield said about being the flag bearer for Canada at the opening ceremonies.  "I don't believe in all that curse stuff about carrying the flag."

I wonder if he might believe it now?  It was just so very sad that he crashed on the bike before he had even slipped into his shoes.  Wobbled and then right into a concrete barrier.  That was that.  But what a class act he remains.  "That's not how I pictured the script ending."  "Something stupid really, just a bad accident," said his coach.  He had come out of the water 15th, right where he wanted to be, he said, swimming with guys he couldn't usually swim with.  He had run to his bike, which he had modified with time-trial tires and time-trial handlebars, plus an aerodynamic helmet, because he knew he would have to make up time on the bike to catch the group led by the Brownlee brothers, explained an article I read this morning.

Although waterpolo has been scientifically proven to be the toughest of any sport in the world, triathlon is right up there.  (Not bragging, but daughter, Susanne, excels at both.)  When you think of the years and years of hard training Whitfield had to endure to get where he is, only to have it end so arbitrarily.  What a disppointment for him.  But when he crashed, injuring himself, what did he do?  He apologized to the racer he took down with him.  Just a class act. 

"I said all along, if I had a shiny object or not I was going to be at the park tomorrow, after I cheer on Adam van Koeverden as he chases down medal number four," he added.

I wonder if the "curse" will continue? 

Dead people on facebook

It's disturbing when up pops a suggestion that you should "friend" someone who has been dead two years.  That happened to me this morning.  I clicked on him and there he was, happily married, kids, smiling face -- the whole kit and kaboodle.  I clicked on his wife and up came "J", grinning from ear-to-ear, declaring herself happily married to "M".  It was disturbingly jarring.

I remember his funeral, a lavish affair at the Royal Ottawa Golf Club attended by hundreds.  He was a very popular guy and an Ottawa fixture for decades.  Old friends came from all over the world to wake him. 

But then I thought about it.  I guess if you're dying, you don't think about "deleting" yourself from facebook.  And if only you have your password, your wife can't cancel you after you're dead.  But there should be some way because the last thing any of us would want is to be smiling out from the screen when we are six feet under, or dust in the wind.  

Remembering when.........

Watching the synchronized swimming this morning took me back.  I thought step-daughter Sarah would be perfect for the sport, so we signed her up.  She was very good and loved it.  I think she must have been about 10 or 11, but they had a lot of sophisticated moves to perfect.  You have to be a strong swimmer to even begin synchro, otherwise you would definitely drown.  Sarah was a real waterbaby, as were all our kids, so that part was nailed. 

The only thing I had to perfect was the hair.  Man, that was a challenge!  Today it looks as if they have their hair sealed under plastic, but back then I had to figure out how to make it stay in place underwater with a lot of turning and thrashing going on.  I used gel -- dumb because it's water-soluble -- and about a hundred bobby pins.  I think a lot of other mothers grabbed the bobby pins too because the bottom of the pool was littered with them. 

The final recital, or whatever they called it, was amazing.  To see all these young girls contorting themselves and looking like they were enjoying it was very rewarding.  Nothing like slapping a smile on your face while you are perilously close to drowning to prepare you for life in the office jungle down the road!

Later she tried to teach me a few moves in the lake at the cottage.  I managed a few back rolls and the like, but decided to stick to the easy stuff, straight lengths.  Man, that was a great place.  Nothing like swimming across the lake and back just for the fun of it. 

One other thing comes to mind.  I told our boys they could not possibly marry a woman who would not get her hair wet.  Think about it, you just can't.  That was a fatal test for a number of them. 

  

My husband, the painter

My friend Barbara, widow of renowned Canadian art collector, O.J. Firestone, asked me to post a few of B's painting on my blog.  So I am.  I think he is extremely talented.........here are some we have in our home (ignore the flash that appears in a few).

My new boyfriend

I met him at the Banff Springs Hotel yesterday.  Apparently, the hotel pays a Mountie to wander around so guests can have their picture taken with him.  I was no exception!  Regardless of the scandals, you gotta' love the Mounties!

There were a number of weddings underway and some of the young women caught my eye -- especially their shoes!  I adore shoes, as you know.  By the way, did our mini skirts of the sixties get this short??!!  Wow!

The pink suede on the left and the florals on the right were my favourites.



English

Watched a program on BBC about why English is the language of the world.  Everyone everywhere wants to learn English.  Why?  Because English speakers get ahead in business and commerce and become the elite of their countries.  They can excel anywhere.  It occured to me that the reason English is the preferred language is that it is the predominate language of democracies.  Plain and simple.

Democracy equals opportunity equals getting ahead equals...you better speak English. 

"English speakers in our culture mean that only English speakers get ahead," said a (not)"brilliant" professor at a South African university on the program.  "South Africans should be able to get ahead regardless of their dialect."  Yah, that's right, most executives at IBM also speak Swahili.  How dumb can you be?!  Duh, the only way a unilingual Swahili speaker can rise to the top is in a community where they only speak Swahili....or whatever.  The reason people the world over want to learn English is precisely to get ahead in places other than South Africa...or China...or Indonesia...or India...or Yugoslavia...or Hungary...or...anywhere else.

The program I watched was very clear.  English is the language of prosperity.  That's why everyone wants to learn it.

Here's to democracy and the English that goes with it. 

They're making a killing

I thought it was some kind of optical illusion or delusion, but no, the yellow lights are definitely shorter here.  You simply can't get through before they turn red -- hence the windfall Calgary makes in tickets, thanks to cameras at every intersection.  This was confirmed in an editorial here today.  That cute little trick, plus speed cameras every few inches along every road, make for easy pickin's for the city fathers.  I have ceased going through yellow lights.  I now slam the brakes dangerously hard and instead screech to a hazardous and abrupt stop.   

All contributes to road rage here.  Just to make sure you are snared, the speed limits go from 100 to 80 to 70 to 60 to 50, then back to 80 -- all in the space of a kilometre!  You have no idea you are speeding or running a light until you get a charming love letter from the Calgary police service containing your fine.  "Dear Sir, please fork over $150 or $250, as per the photo below."  And there you are, licence plate undeniable, clocked, shot, fined and toasted.  Bang.  (I won't dare divulge what B (not I...yet) has racked up in fines, too depressing.)

The US National Motorists Association Foundation has launched a campaign to stop short yellow lights.  "Red-light cameras can only remain profitable at poorly-engineered intersections," says the group.  "Once an intersection is fixed, the money dries up quickly."  So, it's on-purpose and basically illegal.  Great.   

It is so annoying.  The May 24th weekend nabbed more than 6,000 violators on the Crowchild Trail alone!  Do the math.  And they don't even need uniformed bodies in cars to do the work.  Those teensy, hidden, wily, crafty cameras do it all.

Be forewarned:  never speed or run lights in Calgary. 

Oh, give me a home..............

Yes, there are buffalo here.  And they love country music!  Chated with a guy at Dolly's birthday party and learned there is a huge herd of buffalo a hop-skip-and-jump from our place.  "There are only about a thousand head at the moment, but it's quite a sight," he told me.  Only a thousand head?!  Man, I have to see that!  "But you have to have the radio tuned into a country station and leave the car doors open so they can hear it," he added.  "They will come right up to the fence, they are very curious." 

Well, that would be an excursion if I ever have been on one.  So, off we headed to the buffalo ranch and sure enough, there they were.  Tons of them!  I was beside myself.  They are huge. And they actually did respond to the country music twang I had playing and wandered down to the fence, on which I was precariously perched with my camera.  I was whistling and calling them, until B said, "Nancy, for G-d's sake stop that.  They might stampede!"  In my enthusiasm, I just could not help myself.  It was pretty thrilling. 

Sadly, they will be gone from that location next year because of a new housing development that is going up there.  Apparently, the developers -- who must have got a real deal because of the location next to a buffalo herd -- don't want to be next to a buffalo herd.  Duh!  I hope they are just relocating, not closing down.  Here are a few shots of our adorable "neighbours":