After having survived a punishing spring, a mid-August brutal hail storm and yet battling valiantly back from both with gusto, my flowers died today. Actually, I killed them. This was the day I yanked them from their pots and tossed them over the fence into the tall grasses in the field back of our house. The only solace I have is that they will be compost and will help nourish the beautiful wild field I so enjoy.
I could almost hear them. "What are you doing?! You planted, fed and watered us and we rallied for you after that brutal beating. Here we are blooming in all our glory and you're ripping us up! What the hell are you doing!!?? Yes, it was sad and I hated doing it, but Fall comes and one has to.
So, now they lie strewn across the back field, still hanging in there, still thinking they are growing, roots attached. But soon they will realize they must die. I also took in the Muskoka chairs, the garden fairies, the lights and the ceramic pots.
With frost coming this week, summer is over in Calgary.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Cuisines
Next time you want to impress, or bore, someone at a cocktail party, toss out this: Which are the original cuisines of the world? I guarantee you, no one will get it right. I had no idea myself until a Canadian ambassador friend of mine, who had lived all over the world, informed me. Barry Steers, God rest his soul, had been in the Canadian foreign service all his life and knew many obscure tidbits such as this.
Over dinner one night at the Gatineau Fish & Game Club (more about this venerable place shortly) Barry started talking about international cuisine and said, "Well, the five founding cuisines of civilization are Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Franco-Italian and Byzantine." Really? I asked the usual questions about German, English (now, there's a laugh), American, Japanese, Scandinavian.....etc., etc. Nope, it turns out thems the only five.
Why is this interesting? Well, while the rest of the world was waging war, the original cuisine guys were cooking. I know this sounds simplistic, but it makes sense.
Back to the GF & GC. We were introduced to this club in 1983 by a childhood friend of B's. We had just married and had four kids between us, all under the age of 11. We needed a summer cottage and this club was just the ticket. Up notorious old highway #105 we ventured. About 110 kms into the Gatineau Hills -- between Gracefield and Maniwaki -- (you know this place, Dan), we found nirvana for a month every July.
Founded in 1894 by a group of Canadian and American fisher/hunters, who wanted to get away from their wives, the club is unique. It has not been "modernized", in other words, it still has the same board and batten cladding, the same wide pine floors, the same huge, open fireplaces, the same satin eiderdowns and the same old wood stoves as when first built. What an amazing building! The second floor features an open balcony that runs around all four sides -- a great place to sit on one of the ancient homemade cedar benches and relax. For 20 years we rented cottage number 2, or "2 Annex", as it was officially called, and enjoyed the best holiday ever. It was great fun meeting members who came from all over the world, places such as England (a lord), the US, South America and Canada. I learned those of us who appreciate loons and nature aren't all that different, when you get right down to it.
One amusing fact is that originally the club was "men only". In the '60s they finally built a ladies' dining room by closing off one section of the ground-floor balcony. What hell that must have raised!! Still, women were not allowed upstairs, so they built a washroom beside the office to accomodate "female" requirements. But guess what, some members still long for the good-old-men-only days. Face it, we're not that far from the burkha.
Lots of doctors were members and would bring their "black bags" along to treat anyone with swimmers' ear or any other minor malady that might arise. Hey, have your OHIP number ready. Our kids and their chums spent idyllic days swimming and lazing in one of the most beautiful places in the world. B was elected president and transformed the finances with his brilliant formulas for dining and tree-cutting, turning the red ink into black, resulting in a waiting list for membership. He is brilliant with numbers and "heavy lifting".
Recently, two of our kids, after 20 years, visited childhood chums from the club in South Padre Island. The friendships never fade.
Over dinner one night at the Gatineau Fish & Game Club (more about this venerable place shortly) Barry started talking about international cuisine and said, "Well, the five founding cuisines of civilization are Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Franco-Italian and Byzantine." Really? I asked the usual questions about German, English (now, there's a laugh), American, Japanese, Scandinavian.....etc., etc. Nope, it turns out thems the only five.
Why is this interesting? Well, while the rest of the world was waging war, the original cuisine guys were cooking. I know this sounds simplistic, but it makes sense.
Back to the GF & GC. We were introduced to this club in 1983 by a childhood friend of B's. We had just married and had four kids between us, all under the age of 11. We needed a summer cottage and this club was just the ticket. Up notorious old highway #105 we ventured. About 110 kms into the Gatineau Hills -- between Gracefield and Maniwaki -- (you know this place, Dan), we found nirvana for a month every July.
Founded in 1894 by a group of Canadian and American fisher/hunters, who wanted to get away from their wives, the club is unique. It has not been "modernized", in other words, it still has the same board and batten cladding, the same wide pine floors, the same huge, open fireplaces, the same satin eiderdowns and the same old wood stoves as when first built. What an amazing building! The second floor features an open balcony that runs around all four sides -- a great place to sit on one of the ancient homemade cedar benches and relax. For 20 years we rented cottage number 2, or "2 Annex", as it was officially called, and enjoyed the best holiday ever. It was great fun meeting members who came from all over the world, places such as England (a lord), the US, South America and Canada. I learned those of us who appreciate loons and nature aren't all that different, when you get right down to it.
One amusing fact is that originally the club was "men only". In the '60s they finally built a ladies' dining room by closing off one section of the ground-floor balcony. What hell that must have raised!! Still, women were not allowed upstairs, so they built a washroom beside the office to accomodate "female" requirements. But guess what, some members still long for the good-old-men-only days. Face it, we're not that far from the burkha.
Lots of doctors were members and would bring their "black bags" along to treat anyone with swimmers' ear or any other minor malady that might arise. Hey, have your OHIP number ready. Our kids and their chums spent idyllic days swimming and lazing in one of the most beautiful places in the world. B was elected president and transformed the finances with his brilliant formulas for dining and tree-cutting, turning the red ink into black, resulting in a waiting list for membership. He is brilliant with numbers and "heavy lifting".
Recently, two of our kids, after 20 years, visited childhood chums from the club in South Padre Island. The friendships never fade.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
The bags at the pool
Like clockwork, they show up 45 minutes before their class starts and take over one of the lanes -- usually the one I am swimming in. They are the bags of the pool who take an aquafit class -- well they don't actually do the actual aquafit, they just tread water in their life belts and hideous shower caps (I kid you not!), yak and ignore the instructor.
Fellow swimmer Diane and I just look at each other and roll our exasperated eyes. I switch lanes. These women, all in their 70s and 80s, are fat and rude. I mean, if you're old and ugly, why not at least try to be nice, I said to Diane the other day. But these dames have absolutely no compunction about hogging a lane dedicated to people who want to do laps. No siree. We're here and we do what we please.
"They've been told to use the small pool until the class starts," says Diane. "But they don't," I reply. "Of course not," she adds. They simply submerge like knarled walruses and take over. Pool etiquette? What's that? Can't bloody stand them.
The lifeguards all know what I think of them and laugh when they hit the deck. "Nancy, you need to get here earlier because I know how much they bug you," said one the other day. Yeah, yeah I know, but why should I have to? When I get old(er), just shoot me.
Fellow swimmer Diane and I just look at each other and roll our exasperated eyes. I switch lanes. These women, all in their 70s and 80s, are fat and rude. I mean, if you're old and ugly, why not at least try to be nice, I said to Diane the other day. But these dames have absolutely no compunction about hogging a lane dedicated to people who want to do laps. No siree. We're here and we do what we please.
"They've been told to use the small pool until the class starts," says Diane. "But they don't," I reply. "Of course not," she adds. They simply submerge like knarled walruses and take over. Pool etiquette? What's that? Can't bloody stand them.
The lifeguards all know what I think of them and laugh when they hit the deck. "Nancy, you need to get here earlier because I know how much they bug you," said one the other day. Yeah, yeah I know, but why should I have to? When I get old(er), just shoot me.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Who buys these?
Air fresheners. The ads are all over TV about how we absolutely have to have air fresheners -- in every room in the house, in our cars.........everywhere. These products actually pulsate and kick in and out, depending on what smelly thing or being passes by. What's up with that? I know no one who uses them. I mean, how slovenly a homemaker do you have to be to need air fresheners?
They obviously spend millions advertising this product. Why is that? Hey, clean your house, wash your clothes, deal with your garbage and you don't need plug-ins. Seen the ads where people are blindfolded and asked to describe the smell of garbage and dirty laundry amid which they sit? "It smells like flowers, like fresh laundry," they rhapsodize. Nope, it's your garbage, your underwear and a week's worth of sneakers. Pulling off the blindfolds they all laugh uproariously. "I thought I was in a flower garden" Seriously. Please.
This product must pollute. It is made of chemicals, afterall...and you're talking to someone who used to work for the biggest chemical company of all: DuPont of Canada.
p.s. I will not be blogging for most of October, hence the many I am doing right now.
They obviously spend millions advertising this product. Why is that? Hey, clean your house, wash your clothes, deal with your garbage and you don't need plug-ins. Seen the ads where people are blindfolded and asked to describe the smell of garbage and dirty laundry amid which they sit? "It smells like flowers, like fresh laundry," they rhapsodize. Nope, it's your garbage, your underwear and a week's worth of sneakers. Pulling off the blindfolds they all laugh uproariously. "I thought I was in a flower garden" Seriously. Please.
This product must pollute. It is made of chemicals, afterall...and you're talking to someone who used to work for the biggest chemical company of all: DuPont of Canada.
p.s. I will not be blogging for most of October, hence the many I am doing right now.
Ridiculous
'Doc Zone' ran a documentary last night on the novelty of scratch cooking in today's society. Whaaaaat??!!??? I had no idea that no one cooked anymore. Apparently, those of us who do it from scratch are rare. Anne-Marie McDonald went on about how rewarding it used to be to buy basic ingredients and regularly cook for your family. Man, where have I been?! I do it three times a day and always have.
She interviewed famous chefs who explained how to have three food groups in each meal, how to prepare "weird" foodstuffs such as turnips. Turnips are weird? Who knew! I do recall a woman behind me at the checkout a few years ago asking me what "that" was. "It's a squash," I replied. "What do you do with it?" she asked. "I have seen things like that, but I don't know what they are or how to cook them," she added. I explained you just cut it open, take out the seeds and bake it.
What could be easier or cheaper? But there she stood, waiting to pay for a cart-full of sodium-and sugar-laced junk food. Do they not teach hom-ec anymore? I learned a lot in that grade eight kitchen class -- or rather I learned that what my mother made happen in the kitchen was all good. Talking with someone the other day about the rising cost of food, I said I was very glad I had learned how to prepare foods and staples our mothers and grandmothers served -- like root vegetables and frozen green beans in February instead of arugula and fresh spinach.
Yep, food has been hijacked by big business and we're all the worse for it. Here's to turnips!
She interviewed famous chefs who explained how to have three food groups in each meal, how to prepare "weird" foodstuffs such as turnips. Turnips are weird? Who knew! I do recall a woman behind me at the checkout a few years ago asking me what "that" was. "It's a squash," I replied. "What do you do with it?" she asked. "I have seen things like that, but I don't know what they are or how to cook them," she added. I explained you just cut it open, take out the seeds and bake it.
What could be easier or cheaper? But there she stood, waiting to pay for a cart-full of sodium-and sugar-laced junk food. Do they not teach hom-ec anymore? I learned a lot in that grade eight kitchen class -- or rather I learned that what my mother made happen in the kitchen was all good. Talking with someone the other day about the rising cost of food, I said I was very glad I had learned how to prepare foods and staples our mothers and grandmothers served -- like root vegetables and frozen green beans in February instead of arugula and fresh spinach.
Yep, food has been hijacked by big business and we're all the worse for it. Here's to turnips!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
44,000
That's the number of failed refugee claimants living underground in Canada with outstanding arrest warrants, "whereabouts unknown". 44,000. Read it and weep. I mean, this is Canada! We only have 35 or so million people, but we have 44,000 in hiding?! It's completely outrageous.
The House of Commons Public Safety Committee recently recommended that henceforth, failed refugee claimants wear electronic ankle bracelets to monitor those who fail to comply with removal orders. Naturally, the "brilliant" official opposition NDP opposed the proposal. "The government is steaming ahead with the expanded use of electronic monitoring," they ranted. "We support the use of electronic monitoring only with high-risk offenders and only when it is paired with adequate programming," they added. What does "adequate programming" mean? Health care? Housing? Welfare? You bettcha'!
"If failed claimants have not committed a criminal act, the use of electronic monitoring on immigrants and refugees is not reflective of Canadian values and not reflective of basic principles of international human rights." Please. They think that "basic Canadian values" means a free ride. If the refugee claim is denied, guess what? It means that they did not fit the United Nations refugee determination criteria. So, leave Canada, apply as an immigrant and wait in line.
A number of years ago, our nephew tried to emigrate via proper channels from Scotland. Couldn't do it. Later, we tried to get B's mother here from Spain, but she was deemed a potential "drain on the health-care system". Denied. Yet 44,000 illegals are here draining away.
The whole thing is ludicrous.
The House of Commons Public Safety Committee recently recommended that henceforth, failed refugee claimants wear electronic ankle bracelets to monitor those who fail to comply with removal orders. Naturally, the "brilliant" official opposition NDP opposed the proposal. "The government is steaming ahead with the expanded use of electronic monitoring," they ranted. "We support the use of electronic monitoring only with high-risk offenders and only when it is paired with adequate programming," they added. What does "adequate programming" mean? Health care? Housing? Welfare? You bettcha'!
"If failed claimants have not committed a criminal act, the use of electronic monitoring on immigrants and refugees is not reflective of Canadian values and not reflective of basic principles of international human rights." Please. They think that "basic Canadian values" means a free ride. If the refugee claim is denied, guess what? It means that they did not fit the United Nations refugee determination criteria. So, leave Canada, apply as an immigrant and wait in line.
A number of years ago, our nephew tried to emigrate via proper channels from Scotland. Couldn't do it. Later, we tried to get B's mother here from Spain, but she was deemed a potential "drain on the health-care system". Denied. Yet 44,000 illegals are here draining away.
The whole thing is ludicrous.
I did it again
Got a really bad haircut AGAIN this morning. Firstly, I decide to grow my hair, then I think better of it for two reasons -- no three: a) I swim every morning and would have wet hair all day long crimped into a ponytail, b) I can't stand the wait for it to grow in, and c) I'm too bloody old for long hair -- especially the grey variety. Sorry Emmy-Lou, but we can't all look like you.
But I will not pay a ton of money for a short-short hair cut every five weeks. So, I gets what I pays for -- a crappy cut. At "First Choice" you sign in and get the next operator available (notice I didn't say "stylist" because they ain't). I dread the ones I know are crappy. You guessed it, today I got a crappy one. "I want the sides and back clippered and just a half inch off the rest," I instructed, as I slipped guardedly into her chair. "Like this?" she asked, holding up a piece of hair with a half inch to cut. "Perfect." Trouble was, she clipped the first "half inch" and then kept going 'round and 'round clipping it all, all over again........."just to even it out," she explained, after butchering my locks.
So, here I am. About to undergo another three-week bout of looking like a French whore who's just had a bastard German baby. No one to blame but moi.
But I will not pay a ton of money for a short-short hair cut every five weeks. So, I gets what I pays for -- a crappy cut. At "First Choice" you sign in and get the next operator available (notice I didn't say "stylist" because they ain't). I dread the ones I know are crappy. You guessed it, today I got a crappy one. "I want the sides and back clippered and just a half inch off the rest," I instructed, as I slipped guardedly into her chair. "Like this?" she asked, holding up a piece of hair with a half inch to cut. "Perfect." Trouble was, she clipped the first "half inch" and then kept going 'round and 'round clipping it all, all over again........."just to even it out," she explained, after butchering my locks.
So, here I am. About to undergo another three-week bout of looking like a French whore who's just had a bastard German baby. No one to blame but moi.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Outings with my grandson
"I'll pull up a high chair for the baby," the hostess at Milestones says cheerfully. So off I go to meet Sandy, a woman I swim with and who wanted to meet for lunch. Except I was unexpectedly charged with Reed at the last moment, so he came along. Delightful! Everyone was charmed by him, as usual. I ordered potato and leek soup and he ate at least half -- loved it!
Thus Reed experienced yet another adventure with Grandma and all went well. We even went home to a nap -- albeit with five minutes of crying before he fell asleep. Reed is learning that the bed in our home is also a place where he sleeps. He got it.
When he totters around the coffee table and occasionally takes a tumble onto the soft carpet, I don't panic. It's all part of the process attached to his learning how to stay upright.
I am very grateful that my daughter allows me these precious moments with my grandson.
Thus Reed experienced yet another adventure with Grandma and all went well. We even went home to a nap -- albeit with five minutes of crying before he fell asleep. Reed is learning that the bed in our home is also a place where he sleeps. He got it.
When he totters around the coffee table and occasionally takes a tumble onto the soft carpet, I don't panic. It's all part of the process attached to his learning how to stay upright.
I am very grateful that my daughter allows me these precious moments with my grandson.
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Ventures
Remember that group? I do. Listening to CBC 2, I learned today was their late drummer Mel Taylor's birthday, so they played "Walk, Don't Run". "Dah...dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah dum, dum, Dah...dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah dum, dum...dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah dum, dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-duda-duda-duda-dum-dum........That was it, right? Remember "Telstar" and "The Lonely Bull"? Of course you do. Great, great tunes.
Formed in 1958 in Tacoma, The Ventures remain the best-selling instrumental group of all time. More than 110 million records sold. We used to jive to that group's music at high school dances in the gym. God, we were innocents.
Wikipedia tells me that Skip Moore, the original drummer, opted out of the band to work in his family's gas station. Instead of royalties on "Walk Don't Run", he took $25 for the session. He later sued and lost. What an unbelieveable drag for the poor guy. Another "Pete Best" moment. I'd be crying in my beer for the rest of time.
The likes of George Harrison, John Fogerty and Joe Walsh have said that "Walk Don't Run" was the most influentional guitar instrumental they had ever heard because "the audacity of it empowered guitarists everywhere".
Every day I remember or learn something.
Formed in 1958 in Tacoma, The Ventures remain the best-selling instrumental group of all time. More than 110 million records sold. We used to jive to that group's music at high school dances in the gym. God, we were innocents.
Wikipedia tells me that Skip Moore, the original drummer, opted out of the band to work in his family's gas station. Instead of royalties on "Walk Don't Run", he took $25 for the session. He later sued and lost. What an unbelieveable drag for the poor guy. Another "Pete Best" moment. I'd be crying in my beer for the rest of time.
The likes of George Harrison, John Fogerty and Joe Walsh have said that "Walk Don't Run" was the most influentional guitar instrumental they had ever heard because "the audacity of it empowered guitarists everywhere".
Every day I remember or learn something.
Uncle Rollie
After a year in Calgary, I finally had a chat with my darling Uncle Rollie yesterday. Ninety seven next month, he still has it in spades. The last of my parent's generation, he has always been my favourite uncle because he often acted like a kid himself. What kid doesn't love that?! Man, when he goes I will be devastated because that will be the end of them...my classy, wonderful, marvellous parents, aunts and uncles.
"Nancy, someone here wants to speak with you, hang on," said sister-in-law Christine on the line from Ottawa. "Hello Nancy dearest," says Uncle Rollie with a laugh. "Rollie, I am so glad to hear from you," I reply, almost in tears. "Donnie (his son and my favourite cousin) just poured me a big scotch and I'm bombed!" he chuckles again. Of course he's not "bombed", but one drink hits him now as it never did before and his words are a little more slippery as we chat.
"How's Calgary?" he booms. For some dumb reason, I figured he was out of it and would not remember we had moved to Calgary. How wrong I was. "I'd love to get out there for The Stampede, but I guess it won't happen. Too old," he laments. How I wish I could just star-trek-transport him. He is one of the finest gentlemen you will ever meet. Always in a good mood, always grateful for every little thing you give or do for him, always smiling broadly, always crazy about children, babies, grandchildren and great-grandchildren -- no matter whose.
When we were kids, we would repair every July to a primitive rented cottage in the Gatineau Hills -- all six cousins and four aunts and uncles. No electricity, no running water and a "privy" were what we made do with.......and we loved it. What I remember most was the laughter at night, while we pretended to sleep and our parents played poker and bridge into the wee hours -- no doubt imbibing in a little rye and water. But what I also remember was that no one ever got drunk, no one ever yelled or fought and no one ever argued.
I also remember berry picking on scorching July mornings, among the frighteningly large cows in the adjacent farmer's field, with my resourceful grandmother so she could can raspberry preserves using the inferno that was the belching woodstove in the back kitchen. I never seemed to get my pail very full because I ate too many berries. My venerable grandmother, Mrs. Lillian Stapledon -- she of the onion pie, the root vegetable, the stew, the jiblet, the potato. Young Miss Lillian Lord, kitchen wizzard.
I also remember swimming and cavorting out to the raft the daredevil boys would duck under to yell victoriously in the small air space they found there.
My family had plain, simple fun.
In addition to all of his many French Canadian brothers and sisters, Uncle Rollie has buried two wives and two daughters. Yet he retains a cheerful acceptance of his lot. He is one of a dwindling number of WWII vets and every year wears his medals proudly on Remembrance Day. Ever practical, he asked B before we left Ottawa to accompany him to his childhood parish so he could meet the priest and plan his funeral. When that dreaded time comes, we will be there to say farewell to a fine, fine man.
"Nancy, someone here wants to speak with you, hang on," said sister-in-law Christine on the line from Ottawa. "Hello Nancy dearest," says Uncle Rollie with a laugh. "Rollie, I am so glad to hear from you," I reply, almost in tears. "Donnie (his son and my favourite cousin) just poured me a big scotch and I'm bombed!" he chuckles again. Of course he's not "bombed", but one drink hits him now as it never did before and his words are a little more slippery as we chat.
"How's Calgary?" he booms. For some dumb reason, I figured he was out of it and would not remember we had moved to Calgary. How wrong I was. "I'd love to get out there for The Stampede, but I guess it won't happen. Too old," he laments. How I wish I could just star-trek-transport him. He is one of the finest gentlemen you will ever meet. Always in a good mood, always grateful for every little thing you give or do for him, always smiling broadly, always crazy about children, babies, grandchildren and great-grandchildren -- no matter whose.
When we were kids, we would repair every July to a primitive rented cottage in the Gatineau Hills -- all six cousins and four aunts and uncles. No electricity, no running water and a "privy" were what we made do with.......and we loved it. What I remember most was the laughter at night, while we pretended to sleep and our parents played poker and bridge into the wee hours -- no doubt imbibing in a little rye and water. But what I also remember was that no one ever got drunk, no one ever yelled or fought and no one ever argued.
I also remember berry picking on scorching July mornings, among the frighteningly large cows in the adjacent farmer's field, with my resourceful grandmother so she could can raspberry preserves using the inferno that was the belching woodstove in the back kitchen. I never seemed to get my pail very full because I ate too many berries. My venerable grandmother, Mrs. Lillian Stapledon -- she of the onion pie, the root vegetable, the stew, the jiblet, the potato. Young Miss Lillian Lord, kitchen wizzard.
I also remember swimming and cavorting out to the raft the daredevil boys would duck under to yell victoriously in the small air space they found there.
My family had plain, simple fun.
In addition to all of his many French Canadian brothers and sisters, Uncle Rollie has buried two wives and two daughters. Yet he retains a cheerful acceptance of his lot. He is one of a dwindling number of WWII vets and every year wears his medals proudly on Remembrance Day. Ever practical, he asked B before we left Ottawa to accompany him to his childhood parish so he could meet the priest and plan his funeral. When that dreaded time comes, we will be there to say farewell to a fine, fine man.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
A.K.A.....taxes
They are now trotting out and trashing Obama's wise words of a few years ago..........."I believe in the re-distribution of wealth." Duh, of course you do. It's called "taxation". What does Romney say to that? "Well, I don't." They really don't get it in the"Excited States of America", as my American colleague at DuPont used to call his country. You have to collect taxes to make a country work.
The Republicans don't believe that. In the US, 1% of the population holds 30% of the wealth. That's ludicrous. Taxes take care of the weakest and most vulnerable through social programs. Canada gets that. No country can be successful if people are unhealthy and starving. Make no mistake, the US is bankrupt. And Romney wants to deepen the tread marks on the downtrodden.
"The video (of Romney complaining that 47% of Americans were, in a word, bums) confirmed an existing stereotype of Romney and Republicans as wealthy white businessmen, clinking wine glasses while bemoaning the irresponsibility of the help," wrote Michael Gerson, columnist with The Washington Post. He goes on: "It is possible that America -- fed up with economic stagnation and worried about international disorder -- will turn, in the end, to a solid competent Republican stereotype. But that raises another issue -- the matter of actually governing, not (just practicing) politics.
"The nation is disillusioned with the incumbent," he adds. That's an irrefutable fact. Obama has been weak and much prone to changing his mind and vacillating. "But that does not mean that shifting incentives can easily undo the damage. Removing a knife from a patient does not automatically return him to health." Correct.
I think the lesser of the two evils is Obama. Not that I think much of him either, but Romney? A social diaster. "The Republicans lack familiarity with other forms of conservatism that include a conception of the common good," Gerson concludes.
With our multi-party system, Canadians must mix ideologies; to get elected, politicians have no choice. It's often messy, but in the end, the common good prevails.
The Republicans don't believe that. In the US, 1% of the population holds 30% of the wealth. That's ludicrous. Taxes take care of the weakest and most vulnerable through social programs. Canada gets that. No country can be successful if people are unhealthy and starving. Make no mistake, the US is bankrupt. And Romney wants to deepen the tread marks on the downtrodden.
"The video (of Romney complaining that 47% of Americans were, in a word, bums) confirmed an existing stereotype of Romney and Republicans as wealthy white businessmen, clinking wine glasses while bemoaning the irresponsibility of the help," wrote Michael Gerson, columnist with The Washington Post. He goes on: "It is possible that America -- fed up with economic stagnation and worried about international disorder -- will turn, in the end, to a solid competent Republican stereotype. But that raises another issue -- the matter of actually governing, not (just practicing) politics.
"The nation is disillusioned with the incumbent," he adds. That's an irrefutable fact. Obama has been weak and much prone to changing his mind and vacillating. "But that does not mean that shifting incentives can easily undo the damage. Removing a knife from a patient does not automatically return him to health." Correct.
I think the lesser of the two evils is Obama. Not that I think much of him either, but Romney? A social diaster. "The Republicans lack familiarity with other forms of conservatism that include a conception of the common good," Gerson concludes.
With our multi-party system, Canadians must mix ideologies; to get elected, politicians have no choice. It's often messy, but in the end, the common good prevails.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Water baby
It's a good thing the lifeguards at the Y know me. I didn't look at the schedule for the baby pool and had no idea there were lessons this morning. I arrived with Reed (nine months old on the 18th of September), ready to have a good swim with my grandson. Oops! Fortunately, the swimming instructors are also the lifeguards I know well. What did they do? They closed off a corner of the baby pool so I could swim with grandson Reed. How sweet was that!
Reed is a real trooper. I duck him underwater and he loves it! Comes up smiling every time. You have to duck babies regularly before they realize being underwater is not the "air" they breathe. He has it mastered.
Lunch later was a success. Hungry baby ate like a trooper! This darling baby is the reason I am in Calgary!
Reed is a real trooper. I duck him underwater and he loves it! Comes up smiling every time. You have to duck babies regularly before they realize being underwater is not the "air" they breathe. He has it mastered.
Lunch later was a success. Hungry baby ate like a trooper! This darling baby is the reason I am in Calgary!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I shamelessly joined 'em
After trashing slobby Costco shoppers for thundering around and eating their way through the store (see "More cheesieness", August 16), I now share that shameful distinction. Yep, I noshed my way through the aisles this afternoon.
Problem was, I had only eaten a bowl of clear soup for lunch and was a tad too hungry to have ventured there in the first place. Could not bypass the delicacies waiting tantalizingly at the end of each aisle. A lot on offer is pretty good and the nice ladies in the white gloves preparing the stuff aggressively encourage shoppers to sample. But I never thought I'd succumb and join the hoards who dine there. I could feel my mother turning painfully in her grave as I enjoyed little bruchetta's and slices of tortilla.
Daughter Susanne chided me. "Mum, you have to eat that blog about how awful people are who do what you're doing right now." She was right, hence this blog.
I write with sincere apologies to my friend "Hairburner".
Problem was, I had only eaten a bowl of clear soup for lunch and was a tad too hungry to have ventured there in the first place. Could not bypass the delicacies waiting tantalizingly at the end of each aisle. A lot on offer is pretty good and the nice ladies in the white gloves preparing the stuff aggressively encourage shoppers to sample. But I never thought I'd succumb and join the hoards who dine there. I could feel my mother turning painfully in her grave as I enjoyed little bruchetta's and slices of tortilla.
Daughter Susanne chided me. "Mum, you have to eat that blog about how awful people are who do what you're doing right now." She was right, hence this blog.
I write with sincere apologies to my friend "Hairburner".
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
What was she thinking!!???!!
Why was the Duchess of Cambridge, wife of the future King of England, going around topless?! You would think they would have figured out by now the camera lens can spy more than a kilometre. I mean, come on. But apart from that, why was she topless? How tacky.
Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth's grandmother, would undoubtedly have conceived all her children while fully-clothed. The late Queen Mother would also have observed proper decorum in the bedroom and so would have her daughter, Elizabeth II. Try to imagine The Queen sunbathing topless. Impossible. Even reckless Princess Margaret wore a one-piece on her raucous holidays in Mustique.
I don't fault the press. "That's their job, they have to spy on us, so one can't complain" Who said that? None other than Prince Phillip during a recent television interview. Hear, hear.
I see that William has sued the French press. The better idea would have been for Ms. Middleton to have been "proper" in the first place.
Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth's grandmother, would undoubtedly have conceived all her children while fully-clothed. The late Queen Mother would also have observed proper decorum in the bedroom and so would have her daughter, Elizabeth II. Try to imagine The Queen sunbathing topless. Impossible. Even reckless Princess Margaret wore a one-piece on her raucous holidays in Mustique.
I don't fault the press. "That's their job, they have to spy on us, so one can't complain" Who said that? None other than Prince Phillip during a recent television interview. Hear, hear.
I see that William has sued the French press. The better idea would have been for Ms. Middleton to have been "proper" in the first place.
Hot water
You know when you turn on the hot water and it starts out hot(tish), but starts to run tepid? "Is there no hot water?" you say, as you keep running it, convinced it will get hot again any minute. But no. After you run and run it until it is stone cold, you realize that, yes, there is no hot water. Frig.
That was 10 p.m. last night. So, down I go to retrieve the fridge magnet we got in the mail a while ago. "Mr. Plumber, 24-hour service -- senior's discount!".....it reads. Perfect. I call. "Well we certainly can't possibly send anyone out now," the guy says. "So, it's not really 24-hours," I smart-assedly reply. "Well, not tonight. We'll be there before 10 a.m. tomorrow," he says. So, that was that.
See, don't advertise something if it's not true. But we did get the senior's discount, so that part was true. It's amazing how we take water -- hot and cold running -- for granted. Young girls are raped and murdered all over the world walking to the local well for water every day. And when I say "local" I mean it's five or 10 kms away. Not really "local".
"The water in our toilets is cleaner than most of the world's drinking water," Father Henessey used to preach as we sat in our comfortable pews on Sundays, dying to escape the relentless homily and get home to our cocktails and lunch.
I also have to catch myself in the grocery store when I get pissed off at some old bag in my way. Here I am in a grocery store bulging with food (the store that is, not I), my purse stuffed with the money to buy anything I fancy and I am in a bad mood. What's wrong with me!?
Man, we are very spoiled.
That was 10 p.m. last night. So, down I go to retrieve the fridge magnet we got in the mail a while ago. "Mr. Plumber, 24-hour service -- senior's discount!".....it reads. Perfect. I call. "Well we certainly can't possibly send anyone out now," the guy says. "So, it's not really 24-hours," I smart-assedly reply. "Well, not tonight. We'll be there before 10 a.m. tomorrow," he says. So, that was that.
See, don't advertise something if it's not true. But we did get the senior's discount, so that part was true. It's amazing how we take water -- hot and cold running -- for granted. Young girls are raped and murdered all over the world walking to the local well for water every day. And when I say "local" I mean it's five or 10 kms away. Not really "local".
"The water in our toilets is cleaner than most of the world's drinking water," Father Henessey used to preach as we sat in our comfortable pews on Sundays, dying to escape the relentless homily and get home to our cocktails and lunch.
I also have to catch myself in the grocery store when I get pissed off at some old bag in my way. Here I am in a grocery store bulging with food (the store that is, not I), my purse stuffed with the money to buy anything I fancy and I am in a bad mood. What's wrong with me!?
Man, we are very spoiled.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
What a dummie
There I am, in charge of the camera, taking pictures (supposedly) of B presenting his tennis award to "The Most Improved Junior" at the closing banquet of the Calgary Tennis Club. Problem was, no film in the bloody camera!
My fault entirely.
A few weeks ago, B asked if it would be a good idea to sponsor an award for the most improved junior at the tennis club. Absolutely, I said. What I liked about his idea was it could be won by any kid, regardless of sex, level or age. He presented it to the board and they immediately agreed (why would they not). So, the plaque was made.
Come the night of the presentation yesterday, the young 11-year-old winner stepped up, B presented the plaque and I held up the proceedings with my photo-taking palaver and antics. Except, as I said, there was no film in the bloody camera. I am using the Canon Rebel we gave to daughter Susanne when she graduated from Queen's. She gave it back a few years later. But it requires actual physical film, so you kinda have to have that in the camera. Duh! You know, I wondered what the hell that funny-looking icon meant when I looked into the top of the camera? Had never seen it before?@!!
Also lost are the wonderful shots I had others take of me swaning around in my gorgeous emerald green palazzo pants. There we all were, lining up, posing and focussing the shots -- all to no avail. The worst was the shot the juniors' instructor asked me to take of her and her prized pupil, both grinning proudly from ear-to-ear. "I'd love to have a copy of that photo for the album here," Dorothy will say next time I see her. "Well, er, you see, the problem was.......," I will blather back.
So, now have to arrange a meeting of our young champion and B again at the club before the snow flies. Hmmmmmmmmm....how will I tell him about this latest fiasco???????
My fault entirely.
A few weeks ago, B asked if it would be a good idea to sponsor an award for the most improved junior at the tennis club. Absolutely, I said. What I liked about his idea was it could be won by any kid, regardless of sex, level or age. He presented it to the board and they immediately agreed (why would they not). So, the plaque was made.
Come the night of the presentation yesterday, the young 11-year-old winner stepped up, B presented the plaque and I held up the proceedings with my photo-taking palaver and antics. Except, as I said, there was no film in the bloody camera. I am using the Canon Rebel we gave to daughter Susanne when she graduated from Queen's. She gave it back a few years later. But it requires actual physical film, so you kinda have to have that in the camera. Duh! You know, I wondered what the hell that funny-looking icon meant when I looked into the top of the camera? Had never seen it before?@!!
Also lost are the wonderful shots I had others take of me swaning around in my gorgeous emerald green palazzo pants. There we all were, lining up, posing and focussing the shots -- all to no avail. The worst was the shot the juniors' instructor asked me to take of her and her prized pupil, both grinning proudly from ear-to-ear. "I'd love to have a copy of that photo for the album here," Dorothy will say next time I see her. "Well, er, you see, the problem was.......," I will blather back.
So, now have to arrange a meeting of our young champion and B again at the club before the snow flies. Hmmmmmmmmm....how will I tell him about this latest fiasco???????
Friday, September 14, 2012
If you can't find it, make it
That's always been my fashion mantra. But before I get into palazzo trousers, I want to say a few words about the passing of former Alberta Premier Peter Lougheed.........
PC Premier from 1971 to 1985, Lougheed was also known as "the blue-eyed sheik" for his development of Alberta's oil industry. Under his leadership, Alberta went from a have-not province to a have, thanks to oil. For that he was revered and almost worshipped here.
Nevertheless, he was a true-blue Canadian and was very conflicted when the hated Pierre Trudeau introduced the National Energy Strategy. "As a Canadian, that was the hardest day policy-wise of my 14 years. It really was confrontational. I didn't enjoy that," he said later in an interview.
Unlike so many people here, he was not simply a unidimensional Albertan. "I am truly sorry the federal government does not have annual, open federal/provincial conferences, as we used to in the 70's and early '80s. As a country, Canada needs open, transparent fed/prov meetings for the benefit of the federation," he said last year...(or words to that effect.) Trudeau led these conferences, although I believe more to show the country he was "in charge" than to allow the provinces to shine.
The irony is that it was Lougheed who turned Alberta into another Quebec. B, with his hands-on PCO fed/prov background, has always maintained Alberta and Quebec are very similar. "Both are very demanding in promoting provincial jurisdictions and agendas. The Western premiers at the constitutional conference of 1978 were by far the most impressive at advancing sound provincial positions. One couldn't help, however, feeling that Lougheed was the most 'Canadian' of the three," said B this morning.
Classy to the end, the family announced a couple of days ago that he was "gravely ill", code for he'll be gone in a few days, giving the media ample time to get the obituaries ready so reporters and editors would not have to be up all night.
____________________________________
But back to palazzo pants.....
I get an idea in my head about what I want to wear to a certain event -- always starting with the accessories and shoes, never the dress. I then branch out. I have always loved palazzo pants; they hide a multitude of sins. Having owned a few pair, I know how versatile and go anywhere they are. But do you think I could find them? No. They are apparently not currently "in fashion". But then, neither am I.
So, off I trotted to "Fabricland". Settled on emerald green rayon -- because rayon drapes beautifully -- and started to search for a pattern. "Simplicity" had one that only called for one pattern piece and an elastic waist. That's the trick, buy a pattern without pockets, zippers or complicated waistbands. Afterall, you only want the pant draping under an overtop, so who cares about anything else!?
Another cheap and easy fashion tip when you are out of outfits? Make an evening shawl. I do that every year at Christmas...hit a fabric store, buy a fancy bolt and presto-chango, with nothing but straight sewing and 10 minutes, you have a fabulous new outfit. Girls, you gotta learn how to get the most bang for no bucks.
By the way, wondered what the history of palazzo pants was?
"Palazzo pants for women first became a popular trend in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The style was reminiscent of the wide-legged cuffed trousers worn by some women fond of avant-garde fashions in the 1930s and 1940s, particularly actresses such as Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich. During the 1960s, some upscale restaurants resisted modern fashion trends by refusing to admit women wearing trousers, which were considered inappropriate by some proprietors. This posed a problem for women who did not want to wear the skirt styles that were then in fashion. Some women opted to circumvent restaurant bans on women in pants by wearing palazzo trousers as evening wear." That's what wikipedia says.
So, now I am set for the closing party at the tennis club.
PC Premier from 1971 to 1985, Lougheed was also known as "the blue-eyed sheik" for his development of Alberta's oil industry. Under his leadership, Alberta went from a have-not province to a have, thanks to oil. For that he was revered and almost worshipped here.
Nevertheless, he was a true-blue Canadian and was very conflicted when the hated Pierre Trudeau introduced the National Energy Strategy. "As a Canadian, that was the hardest day policy-wise of my 14 years. It really was confrontational. I didn't enjoy that," he said later in an interview.
Unlike so many people here, he was not simply a unidimensional Albertan. "I am truly sorry the federal government does not have annual, open federal/provincial conferences, as we used to in the 70's and early '80s. As a country, Canada needs open, transparent fed/prov meetings for the benefit of the federation," he said last year...(or words to that effect.) Trudeau led these conferences, although I believe more to show the country he was "in charge" than to allow the provinces to shine.
The irony is that it was Lougheed who turned Alberta into another Quebec. B, with his hands-on PCO fed/prov background, has always maintained Alberta and Quebec are very similar. "Both are very demanding in promoting provincial jurisdictions and agendas. The Western premiers at the constitutional conference of 1978 were by far the most impressive at advancing sound provincial positions. One couldn't help, however, feeling that Lougheed was the most 'Canadian' of the three," said B this morning.
Classy to the end, the family announced a couple of days ago that he was "gravely ill", code for he'll be gone in a few days, giving the media ample time to get the obituaries ready so reporters and editors would not have to be up all night.
____________________________________
But back to palazzo pants.....
I get an idea in my head about what I want to wear to a certain event -- always starting with the accessories and shoes, never the dress. I then branch out. I have always loved palazzo pants; they hide a multitude of sins. Having owned a few pair, I know how versatile and go anywhere they are. But do you think I could find them? No. They are apparently not currently "in fashion". But then, neither am I.
So, off I trotted to "Fabricland". Settled on emerald green rayon -- because rayon drapes beautifully -- and started to search for a pattern. "Simplicity" had one that only called for one pattern piece and an elastic waist. That's the trick, buy a pattern without pockets, zippers or complicated waistbands. Afterall, you only want the pant draping under an overtop, so who cares about anything else!?
Another cheap and easy fashion tip when you are out of outfits? Make an evening shawl. I do that every year at Christmas...hit a fabric store, buy a fancy bolt and presto-chango, with nothing but straight sewing and 10 minutes, you have a fabulous new outfit. Girls, you gotta learn how to get the most bang for no bucks.
By the way, wondered what the history of palazzo pants was?
"Palazzo pants for women first became a popular trend in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The style was reminiscent of the wide-legged cuffed trousers worn by some women fond of avant-garde fashions in the 1930s and 1940s, particularly actresses such as Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich. During the 1960s, some upscale restaurants resisted modern fashion trends by refusing to admit women wearing trousers, which were considered inappropriate by some proprietors. This posed a problem for women who did not want to wear the skirt styles that were then in fashion. Some women opted to circumvent restaurant bans on women in pants by wearing palazzo trousers as evening wear." That's what wikipedia says.
So, now I am set for the closing party at the tennis club.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
A different kind of fashion statement
When I saw it on the silent auction table a few years ago, I knew I had to have it. But the hooded sweatshirt with "Ottawa Police" emblazoned across the front, along with the force's official crest, evidently appealed to a lot of us at that charity dinner. I put a bid in, but had to keep running back to see if anyone had upped it. A few bids later, it was mine.
When they saw it, both my sons laid claim. "A woman doesn't need to walk around in an Ottawa Police hoodie," they said. Obviously, I hadn't raised them correctly. Yes, boys, this woman does.
I wore it to the pool this morning and it's amazing what an effect it has on people. Young men who might have pushed past me now stepped back and held the door. The receptionist on the desk said, "Whoa, Nancy. What's that police shirt all about?" "I'm full of surprises," I replied, not willing to tell her how I got it. In the locker room, other women stared. "Yikes, she must have been a policeman back in Ottawa," they had to be thinking because it is the real mccoy, not a fake.
I plan to wear it more often. You get a lot of respect when people think you are a cop.
When they saw it, both my sons laid claim. "A woman doesn't need to walk around in an Ottawa Police hoodie," they said. Obviously, I hadn't raised them correctly. Yes, boys, this woman does.
I wore it to the pool this morning and it's amazing what an effect it has on people. Young men who might have pushed past me now stepped back and held the door. The receptionist on the desk said, "Whoa, Nancy. What's that police shirt all about?" "I'm full of surprises," I replied, not willing to tell her how I got it. In the locker room, other women stared. "Yikes, she must have been a policeman back in Ottawa," they had to be thinking because it is the real mccoy, not a fake.
I plan to wear it more often. You get a lot of respect when people think you are a cop.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Another victory for the old broads
Walking down the produce aisle, she stared and gave me a half smile. "Weird, what's that for?" I said to myself, as I ignored her and picked up a lime. She was very tall, long hair, good-looking and in her mid to late thirties. Suddenly, she turned and walked back. "Excuse me, I'm not gay or anything," she weirdly prefaced, "but I just have to say you are a very beautiful woman." Stunned, I looked around to see who she could possibly be talking to??? No one but me. I then looked for her accomplice, who was certainly picking my pocket while she distracted me with the extravagant compliment. Nope, no one there.....and own her hands were jammed into her jacket pockets, so she wasn't about to rifle through my bag.
Standing there in pedal-pusher leggings and a T-shirt, fresh out of the pool, completely makeup-less and sporting unstyled wet hair, I was dumbfounded....in the extreme. And although rare for me, I was speechless. "You don't even need makeup," she added. Thunderstruck, as AC-DC would proclaim, all I could stammer was "thank you very much." "You must be a good person," she said as she walked away....."except when I'm not," I managed to reply. We both laughed. She made my day -- or even my year and the next couple of decades.
I hesitated about blogging this because it will undoubtedly be construed as self-serving and congratulatory, but I decided, what the heck, why not. It shows that even old broads can still hang in there and be appreciated -- however rarely. If you read this blog, you will know that I follow Ari Seth Cohen's 'Advanced Style' blog, dedicated to fashionable women of-a-certain-age. I admire women in there 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s who can put it together and look good. My grocery store encounter was also a compliment to them.
I also think it says something about Calgary. People are friendlier here -- and aren't shy about showing it.
Standing there in pedal-pusher leggings and a T-shirt, fresh out of the pool, completely makeup-less and sporting unstyled wet hair, I was dumbfounded....in the extreme. And although rare for me, I was speechless. "You don't even need makeup," she added. Thunderstruck, as AC-DC would proclaim, all I could stammer was "thank you very much." "You must be a good person," she said as she walked away....."except when I'm not," I managed to reply. We both laughed. She made my day -- or even my year and the next couple of decades.
I hesitated about blogging this because it will undoubtedly be construed as self-serving and congratulatory, but I decided, what the heck, why not. It shows that even old broads can still hang in there and be appreciated -- however rarely. If you read this blog, you will know that I follow Ari Seth Cohen's 'Advanced Style' blog, dedicated to fashionable women of-a-certain-age. I admire women in there 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s who can put it together and look good. My grocery store encounter was also a compliment to them.
I also think it says something about Calgary. People are friendlier here -- and aren't shy about showing it.
Friday, September 7, 2012
With enemies like that.............
.......who needs friends?! Not too long ago, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama did not much like each other -- a holdover from the bitter battle between Hilary and Obama for the Democratic leadership. But holy cow! Bill hit it completely out of the park last night with his riveting speech. The guy is peerless when it comes to getting a crowd eating out of his hand. I don't care what your politics are, you had to love Bill last night.
Fifty minutes went by in a flash. In fact, I was sorry it was over when it was. I could have listened enraptured for another fifty minutes. He has it in clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades. He alternately cajoled, scolded, edified and charmed everyone in that room -- wagging his finger, as he always does in case anyone might actually be naughty enough to vote for the other side. If only he were running.............People just love Clinton because, although riddled with faults like the rest of us, he is a brilliant man. No getting away from it.
Would not like to be Obama following that act tonight.
Fifty minutes went by in a flash. In fact, I was sorry it was over when it was. I could have listened enraptured for another fifty minutes. He has it in clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades. He alternately cajoled, scolded, edified and charmed everyone in that room -- wagging his finger, as he always does in case anyone might actually be naughty enough to vote for the other side. If only he were running.............People just love Clinton because, although riddled with faults like the rest of us, he is a brilliant man. No getting away from it.
Would not like to be Obama following that act tonight.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
These Women Rock
They still have it, these Rodeo Queens and Princesses from the 70's and 80's. There they were, in all their finery, riding in the Cochrane Labour Day Parade -- the second-largest in Alberta, after The Stampede Parade. To qualify as a contestant a woman has to be able to ride a horse, or as the English put it, "sit a horse". These ladies remain completely cool and still gorgeous...
The parade also featured the Band of the Grenadier Guards, the most senior regiment of the British Infantry, formed in 1656. Quite a coup for Cochrane to get these chaps from across the pond....
We had a grand time.
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| Cindy Morres, Rodeo Queen in 1976, still gorgeous. |
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| Too bad you can't see these Queens' faces, my fault, but they were very cool. |
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| This year's Queen and Princess -- note the gorgeous chaps! |
The bearskins they wear are made from Canadian black bear. Apparently, they tried to substitute synthetic fur, but it just didn't work. Each hat (not to be confused with the busby, which is much smaller) is made from one complete bearskin and costs more than $1,200. Animal rights activists want the use of bearskin discontinued, but no such luck. Approximately 100 skins are taken every year by Inuit and native people, who operate under government supervision to keep numbers under control.
The pioneer women of The Wild West were also featured.......
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| Toting the necessary weapons of the day. |
Grandson, Reed, was keeping up with the marchers.......or trying to...............
We had a grand time.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Biology.......and its nasty consequences
Nothing has changed since I had my children 36 and 33 years ago. If you have the biological function of reproduction, you are discriminated against in the workplace.
I remember being pregnant and hiding it because I knew it would not help my prospects. I used to walk around holding files and papers over my front to conceal my condition because I was up for a promotion and the interview was fast-approaching. Well, I came first in the interview, but when they learned I was pregnant they cancelled the competition. Yep, that's exactly what they did. A few weeks later they reinstated it and guess what? The guy who came second "won". That used to happen on a regular basis. Be a woman, get pregnant.....big problem.
An article in 'The Harvard Business Review' brings it all depressingly home again. Nothing has changed. "If a woman has a child, her chances of being hired fall by 79%," the research proves. (In my case it was "zero".) "She is 50% less likely to be promoted as is a childless woman and her salary offer will be reduced by $11,000."
But women (mothers) are litigating and winning most of the time. In the US, two-thirds of plaintiffs who sue in federal court on the basis of "family responsibilities discrimination" prevail at trial. That's because the companies that demote, or do not promote, working mothers are in the wrong.
That's why so many educated women are not having children until later -- or are having none at all. The workplace is not friendly to mothers. I was told that to get a DG position in communications in the federal government I would have to spend two years in the Privy Council Office. The PCO! That's where everyone worked from 7 a.m. until 8 p.m. -- whether they had to or not. Well, I had no choice but to turn down the job because I had toddlers. No way -- even with a live-in nanny -- could I have managed that. But no way could I also have mentioned the reason, otherwise the PCO guy would have told my (male)boss, who would have.............you know.............formed a negative opinion about me...."different priorities........too bad, she's such a bright woman".
No, you had to pretend you didn't have children and soldier on.
Still, I loved working outside the home. Much more rewarding in the long run than diaper sagas.
I remember being pregnant and hiding it because I knew it would not help my prospects. I used to walk around holding files and papers over my front to conceal my condition because I was up for a promotion and the interview was fast-approaching. Well, I came first in the interview, but when they learned I was pregnant they cancelled the competition. Yep, that's exactly what they did. A few weeks later they reinstated it and guess what? The guy who came second "won". That used to happen on a regular basis. Be a woman, get pregnant.....big problem.
An article in 'The Harvard Business Review' brings it all depressingly home again. Nothing has changed. "If a woman has a child, her chances of being hired fall by 79%," the research proves. (In my case it was "zero".) "She is 50% less likely to be promoted as is a childless woman and her salary offer will be reduced by $11,000."
But women (mothers) are litigating and winning most of the time. In the US, two-thirds of plaintiffs who sue in federal court on the basis of "family responsibilities discrimination" prevail at trial. That's because the companies that demote, or do not promote, working mothers are in the wrong.
That's why so many educated women are not having children until later -- or are having none at all. The workplace is not friendly to mothers. I was told that to get a DG position in communications in the federal government I would have to spend two years in the Privy Council Office. The PCO! That's where everyone worked from 7 a.m. until 8 p.m. -- whether they had to or not. Well, I had no choice but to turn down the job because I had toddlers. No way -- even with a live-in nanny -- could I have managed that. But no way could I also have mentioned the reason, otherwise the PCO guy would have told my (male)boss, who would have.............you know.............formed a negative opinion about me...."different priorities........too bad, she's such a bright woman".
No, you had to pretend you didn't have children and soldier on.
Still, I loved working outside the home. Much more rewarding in the long run than diaper sagas.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
It was not about Shirley
Another reality show has hit the ether. 'I'm having their baby' is about pregnant women (actually stupid girls) having babies and giving them up for adoption. Well, at least they are not keeping them -- one of the main causes of child poverty. By the way, why is it that we can never blame teenage mothers for contributing in a major way to child poverty? But I digress...............
These girls get pregnant. They then go to an adoption agency, where they pour over binders prepared by desperate, infertile couples putting themselves forward as potential parents. "I don't like the look of that one," says one teen. "I don't like their house," says another. I mean, come on. It is so sad for the couples, who have to try and impress a vacuous teen to maybe choose them as the parents....please, please.
When I was adopted, the whole thing was decided before I was born. That's how it was done. My birth mother, Shirley, had no say and the process worked perfectly. It wasn't about Shirley, it was about what was best for me. If you were putting your baby up for adoption, the system took over. The mother didn't study binders and photos. She didn't meet the potential parents to approve or veto their application. The idea was to give the baby up without ties, with no knowledge of what happened to the baby. You "got into trouble" and the system solved your problem. Plain and simple.
In my case, I was determined in later life to get to my roots. Luckily, and with a bit of chicanery, I succeeded. Sadly, my birth mother had died, but I did meet her brothers and sister. While they will never be my family, I am grateful I know who they are. As to my birth father? Well, that's another story.........
One of the saddest scenes in the episode of 'I'm having their baby' was the delivery room, where the "approved" parents participated in the whole process, only to be told a few days later that the mother had changed her mind. These parents had everything ready for the baby. Imagine what it must have done to them to have been rejected after they thought everything had been decided. It was appalling. The 17-year-old mother is keeping the kid.
Poor kid, is all I can say.
These girls get pregnant. They then go to an adoption agency, where they pour over binders prepared by desperate, infertile couples putting themselves forward as potential parents. "I don't like the look of that one," says one teen. "I don't like their house," says another. I mean, come on. It is so sad for the couples, who have to try and impress a vacuous teen to maybe choose them as the parents....please, please.
When I was adopted, the whole thing was decided before I was born. That's how it was done. My birth mother, Shirley, had no say and the process worked perfectly. It wasn't about Shirley, it was about what was best for me. If you were putting your baby up for adoption, the system took over. The mother didn't study binders and photos. She didn't meet the potential parents to approve or veto their application. The idea was to give the baby up without ties, with no knowledge of what happened to the baby. You "got into trouble" and the system solved your problem. Plain and simple.
In my case, I was determined in later life to get to my roots. Luckily, and with a bit of chicanery, I succeeded. Sadly, my birth mother had died, but I did meet her brothers and sister. While they will never be my family, I am grateful I know who they are. As to my birth father? Well, that's another story.........
One of the saddest scenes in the episode of 'I'm having their baby' was the delivery room, where the "approved" parents participated in the whole process, only to be told a few days later that the mother had changed her mind. These parents had everything ready for the baby. Imagine what it must have done to them to have been rejected after they thought everything had been decided. It was appalling. The 17-year-old mother is keeping the kid.
Poor kid, is all I can say.
What can I say?
Political science professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Andrea Louise Campbell, agrees with me. The current issue of 'Foreign Affairs' features an article by Ms. Campbell entitled 'America the Undertaxed'. Yes, they are. And they want to be even more so, if the Republicans win. I know, I know, I do harp on about taxes, but hey, you gotta have 'em. No way around it. That's how successful countries function.
"The most inportant debates in US politics today center (sic) on the cost and the role of government. Cutting taxes, limiting expenditures and reducing debt have become the chief concerns of Republicans, whereas Democrats generally seek to preserve or even expand government spending and are willing to raise taxes to do so," writes Ms. Campbell.
The free market and big business cannot run a country. Unfortunately, the Republicans think they can. Don't get me wrong, I am not an Obama fan, but he is the lesser of two evils -- except for the fact that the American system stymies him at every turn. He can never seem to get to his agenda.
The article contains a graph which shows the total tax revenues as a percentage of GDP in the industrialized world. Denmark is at the top, with 48.1%, Canada is in the middle, with 32.0% and the US is third from the bottom with 24.1% -- just ahead of Chile and last-placed Mexico. How can you run a country like that?
She concludes: "The decision of tax reform is a referendum on the direction in which Americans would like to take their country. The US currently taxes top earners at some of the lowest effective rates in the country's history. The US tax system collects little revenue, poorly re-distributes that money across the population and is mind-bogglingly complex."
Recently, tax dollars have been used to bail out automobile giants and investment banks. What a mess.
"The most inportant debates in US politics today center (sic) on the cost and the role of government. Cutting taxes, limiting expenditures and reducing debt have become the chief concerns of Republicans, whereas Democrats generally seek to preserve or even expand government spending and are willing to raise taxes to do so," writes Ms. Campbell.
The free market and big business cannot run a country. Unfortunately, the Republicans think they can. Don't get me wrong, I am not an Obama fan, but he is the lesser of two evils -- except for the fact that the American system stymies him at every turn. He can never seem to get to his agenda.
The article contains a graph which shows the total tax revenues as a percentage of GDP in the industrialized world. Denmark is at the top, with 48.1%, Canada is in the middle, with 32.0% and the US is third from the bottom with 24.1% -- just ahead of Chile and last-placed Mexico. How can you run a country like that?
She concludes: "The decision of tax reform is a referendum on the direction in which Americans would like to take their country. The US currently taxes top earners at some of the lowest effective rates in the country's history. The US tax system collects little revenue, poorly re-distributes that money across the population and is mind-bogglingly complex."
Recently, tax dollars have been used to bail out automobile giants and investment banks. What a mess.
Why didn't I write this book?
I am always running into novels I could have written.........but didn't. "Bridget Jones' Diary, for example. Now along comes another: 'The Blondes'. Everyone knows what I think about "dyed blondes" and apparently Emily Schultz agrees.
"I was on a flight to New York and I was reading 'Vanity Fair' and I noticed that all the ads seemed to feature blonde women and I opened up to this Gucci spread in particular and it was a gang of blonde women," Ms. Schultz explained. "They looked so vampiric, as if they were ready to murder somebody. They had the eyeliner that almost made their eyes look sunken in and I just all of a sudden said 'The Blondes'! and as soon as I said that, even though I was still joking around....I just knew that I had to write the book and I started to take the idea seriously."
The book is about a "blonde plague" and explores all the issues that surface because of it. "I knew that I wanted to explore relationships between women and also the many levels of what it means to be a woman in general," she explained. "The book starts with a rant about women and it's not a very positive rant. But I wanted it to start that way because I felt the heroine needed to work through her issues...and all the things that arise from this blonde plague."
Yes indeed-y. As I have blogged, something happens to a woman when she dyes her hair blonde. Presto-chango, she becomes a "dyed blonde". If you dye your hair blonde, apparently you do not accept yourself. By taking that step, you are a "wanna be". You morph into another category of female. B will start an anecdote with, "I ran into this dyed blonde this morning.........." and I will immediately know what's coming next.
For some reason North American dyed blondes have a desire to be noteworthy. Ironically, they are not. What do we all do when someone says, "Well, she's a dyed blonde, so what can you expect?" We roll our eyes. So, to dye your hair blonde, you have to make a conscious decision to be perceived as belonging to the "dyed blonde" category-- in some circles even the "dumb blonde" category. And since no dyed blonde has ever been able to fool anyone into thinking she is a "natural", the dyed blonde can't win.
Weird choice.
"Hairburner", you are the expert, any comments?
"I was on a flight to New York and I was reading 'Vanity Fair' and I noticed that all the ads seemed to feature blonde women and I opened up to this Gucci spread in particular and it was a gang of blonde women," Ms. Schultz explained. "They looked so vampiric, as if they were ready to murder somebody. They had the eyeliner that almost made their eyes look sunken in and I just all of a sudden said 'The Blondes'! and as soon as I said that, even though I was still joking around....I just knew that I had to write the book and I started to take the idea seriously."
The book is about a "blonde plague" and explores all the issues that surface because of it. "I knew that I wanted to explore relationships between women and also the many levels of what it means to be a woman in general," she explained. "The book starts with a rant about women and it's not a very positive rant. But I wanted it to start that way because I felt the heroine needed to work through her issues...and all the things that arise from this blonde plague."
Yes indeed-y. As I have blogged, something happens to a woman when she dyes her hair blonde. Presto-chango, she becomes a "dyed blonde". If you dye your hair blonde, apparently you do not accept yourself. By taking that step, you are a "wanna be". You morph into another category of female. B will start an anecdote with, "I ran into this dyed blonde this morning.........." and I will immediately know what's coming next.
For some reason North American dyed blondes have a desire to be noteworthy. Ironically, they are not. What do we all do when someone says, "Well, she's a dyed blonde, so what can you expect?" We roll our eyes. So, to dye your hair blonde, you have to make a conscious decision to be perceived as belonging to the "dyed blonde" category-- in some circles even the "dumb blonde" category. And since no dyed blonde has ever been able to fool anyone into thinking she is a "natural", the dyed blonde can't win.
Weird choice.
"Hairburner", you are the expert, any comments?
Saturday, September 1, 2012
No clue
Richard Martin wrote a letter complaining about the one I had written in support of the Monarchy in Canada. He advocates just declaring independence -- like Jamaica did. See, that's typical of the ignorance surrounding what it would take to do away with the Monarchy and the Queen as head of state. This guy doesn't even know that Jamaica remains part of the Commonwealth, that it is one of the 16 realms, as is Canada, that the Queen is still Queen of Jamaica and Head of State.
"Marley-Clarke says we are a constitutional monarchy. That's a polite was of saying that we're a colony," he complains. How dumb can you be. We are not a "colony", of course, and Canada just can't "declare independence". We are an independent nation, as is Jamaica. You don't have to have a republic to be independent. People are just simply uninformed. Remember what happened when Trudeau patriated the constitution in 1982? It was a herculean task even without changing a word of it. And look what happened when Mulroney tried to shove through the Meech Lake and Charlottetown accords. Canadians would have none of it.
Canada is a country that works -- in every sense of the word. No politician in his or her right mind would try to re-write the constitution. Can anyone spell "instability"? Business would fold up as fast as you could say, "we're outta here". Business does not like instability, just a fact. That's what happened in Quebec in the '70s and that's what will happen again if, for example, Pauline Marois wins the upcoming election.
"Recently Jamaican-Canadians marked the independence of Jamaica on Parliment Hill. They were so proud of their heritage," he went on in his letter. Really? We should follow Jamaica's example? Please. After declaring independence, it was all downhill for that island. In fact, the only Caribbean island that remains successful and functioning in a law-abiding manner is Bermuda -- also the only country left that did not declare independence from Britain. The crime rate is so high (tourist advisories and more than 1,500 murders a year), you take your life in your hands vacationing in Jamaica, unless you stay in a gated hotel....and even then......
Why Jamaican-Canadians flocked to Parliament Hill to celebrate is beyond me. Firstly, they are Canadians, not "Jamaican-Canadians" and secondly, why hold the event on Parliament Hill? Guns and ganga are the biggest exports out of Jamaica. And last time I checked, people were emigrating in droves from Jamaica, not lining up to get in. I mean, if it's so great there, why stay here?
"Marley-Clarke says we are a constitutional monarchy. That's a polite was of saying that we're a colony," he complains. How dumb can you be. We are not a "colony", of course, and Canada just can't "declare independence". We are an independent nation, as is Jamaica. You don't have to have a republic to be independent. People are just simply uninformed. Remember what happened when Trudeau patriated the constitution in 1982? It was a herculean task even without changing a word of it. And look what happened when Mulroney tried to shove through the Meech Lake and Charlottetown accords. Canadians would have none of it.
Canada is a country that works -- in every sense of the word. No politician in his or her right mind would try to re-write the constitution. Can anyone spell "instability"? Business would fold up as fast as you could say, "we're outta here". Business does not like instability, just a fact. That's what happened in Quebec in the '70s and that's what will happen again if, for example, Pauline Marois wins the upcoming election.
"Recently Jamaican-Canadians marked the independence of Jamaica on Parliment Hill. They were so proud of their heritage," he went on in his letter. Really? We should follow Jamaica's example? Please. After declaring independence, it was all downhill for that island. In fact, the only Caribbean island that remains successful and functioning in a law-abiding manner is Bermuda -- also the only country left that did not declare independence from Britain. The crime rate is so high (tourist advisories and more than 1,500 murders a year), you take your life in your hands vacationing in Jamaica, unless you stay in a gated hotel....and even then......
Why Jamaican-Canadians flocked to Parliament Hill to celebrate is beyond me. Firstly, they are Canadians, not "Jamaican-Canadians" and secondly, why hold the event on Parliament Hill? Guns and ganga are the biggest exports out of Jamaica. And last time I checked, people were emigrating in droves from Jamaica, not lining up to get in. I mean, if it's so great there, why stay here?
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