Lunching at "Joey Tomato" in Crowfoot today, after my dental* appointment (B's idea), I watched as two middle-aged women greeted each other with air kisses. Always on the lookout for blog fodder, I sensed these two would be great material. I was not wrong. Shamelessly, I eavesdropped while pretending to watch the sports channel above the bar.
"He had the nerve to ask what the charges were for on the credit card," complained one. "When I told him they were for glasses and a new dishwasher, he actually offered to pick one out and install it!" "It's a control issue with him," stated her luncheon partner with unwavering feminist authority.
I hate to say "I told you so", but both were "dyed blondes". They then spent the next hour complaining about the men in their lives --both past and present. "And there he is, living with another woman!" What was clear to me was that the "dishwasher" woman was having a paid-for affair with the "installer" guy -- else why would he be permitted to question her credit card statement and offer to pick out and install the thing?
I mean, come on. Their whole lunch was a man-hating diatribe against the men who were financing them overall and paying for the lunch they were enjoying at that particular moment -- one because of a divorce, the other by means of an affair. My philosophy is if you are pocketing a guy's money, button it.
As I have always said, women are their own worst enemies.
* It is a "dental", not "dentist" appointment. Just to be a grammar natzi for a minute, a "dentist appointment" would be a generic appointment most dentists have. A "dentist's appointment" would mean a specific type of appointment a dentist might have. "Dental" is an adjective, just as is"educational". Too many times we see "education system", instead of "educational system". Depressing.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
I was an "N/A"
Among the constitutional experts, the PMO folks, the deans of law schools, the historians, the authors, the professors emeritus, the treaty commissioners, the senators, the representives of The Prince's Trust, the chiefs of protocol and even our host, the Lieutenant Governor of Saskatchewan herself, I was an "N/A". That's how I was billed in the list of participants. Sort of took me down a few pegs, sitting among the constitutional "who's who" and gliterati, listening to men and women who are so knowledgeable.
When you convene a conference of The Friends of the Canadian Crown, you attract the top people in the country in their fields. I knew Canada was a constitutional monarchy and that the Queen was our head of state, but there was so much I didn't know. Bulletin to all those disgruntled letter writers who call every Victoria Day for the abolishment of the Canadian Crown: dream on. It will never happen simply because it would require the agreement of all provinces and territories at the same time. And even then each body would have another three years to think about it after-the-fact and change their minds. "Too much mischief would be made by the provinces," said one expert.
Right you are, then. It's the Queen, followed by Charles. Period, the end.
Frivilously, the only file on which I was the expert was "fashion". The few women in attendance dressed "sensibly", whereas I sported orange heels and earrings one day and blue the next. For the final formal dinner, I didn't wear my usual plain sheath, dressed up with spectacular earrings and shoes. I actually wore a Richard Robinson original, haute couture, sheer grey organza evening jacket over a long black sheath; yes the earrings were gold chandelier and the shoes matched.
Not to blow my own horn, but I did get many compliments on the jacket. "I must say, your wife looks lovely," said the Lieutentant Governor to B, "and she certainly knows how to dress," she added. That was some compliment from on high and I grabbed it. I add this only because afterall, this blog is about fashion.
Note to Dan: It was "diva on a dime".......except for the jacket.
When you convene a conference of The Friends of the Canadian Crown, you attract the top people in the country in their fields. I knew Canada was a constitutional monarchy and that the Queen was our head of state, but there was so much I didn't know. Bulletin to all those disgruntled letter writers who call every Victoria Day for the abolishment of the Canadian Crown: dream on. It will never happen simply because it would require the agreement of all provinces and territories at the same time. And even then each body would have another three years to think about it after-the-fact and change their minds. "Too much mischief would be made by the provinces," said one expert.
Right you are, then. It's the Queen, followed by Charles. Period, the end.
Frivilously, the only file on which I was the expert was "fashion". The few women in attendance dressed "sensibly", whereas I sported orange heels and earrings one day and blue the next. For the final formal dinner, I didn't wear my usual plain sheath, dressed up with spectacular earrings and shoes. I actually wore a Richard Robinson original, haute couture, sheer grey organza evening jacket over a long black sheath; yes the earrings were gold chandelier and the shoes matched.
Not to blow my own horn, but I did get many compliments on the jacket. "I must say, your wife looks lovely," said the Lieutentant Governor to B, "and she certainly knows how to dress," she added. That was some compliment from on high and I grabbed it. I add this only because afterall, this blog is about fashion.
Note to Dan: It was "diva on a dime".......except for the jacket.
Monday, October 29, 2012
"You've slimmed down"
Music to my ears. After having shed almost 20 pounds, it's nice to have it noticed. Arriving in Regina last Thursday for the conference, I was thrilled to hear chair Michael Jackson utter those lovely words when he greeted me on the street as we checked in. We stayed in the old-fashioned "Hotel Saskatchewan", one of the grande dames of the CPR chain, now owned by Fairmont.
"After you," said the HUGE gentleman holding the door as I walked in. "Thank you, you guys must be football players," I joked. "In our spare time," they replied. I later learned they were members of the Argo's, in town for a final game with the Saskatchewan Rough Riders. Man, were they big! And charming. And polite. I, of course, chatted shamelessly with all of them whenever I spied one in the lobby. Had my picture taken with three or four.........will post later.
Another gem: the lobby bar of these old hotels. What great places! The food is great, the servers fabulous and the ambiance sublime. Everyone walks through the lobby and many take a break in the bar.
"Excuse me," I said to one perfect specimen sitting at the bar, "Are you with the Argo's?" "Yes, M'am," he replied. "Could I have your autograph please?" Certainly. He scribbled something unintelligible, so I asked him to print his name. "Ejiro Kuale". I then pronounced it and he was dumbfounded. "You are the first person to pronounce my name correctly, ever," he said. Ever? Apparently, yes. "Most people pronounce it "Koo-hail". He was Nigerian, but raised in Florida. "We have quite a few Nigerians in our parish and I guess I have picked up on name pronounciation here and there," I offered, thinking of our friends the Osakwe's -- Ejenna, the pharmacist, and Carlton, the economics prof at Mount Royal. With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two 50-yard-line tickets, row three, and invited us to the game as his guests.....and all because I pronounced his name correctly.
Googled him and it says he was born in Daytona Beach, but really it was Nigeria. He also played for the New Orleans Saints. Also met and had my picture taken with Tony Washington and offensive coach James Stanley. As B says, "Nancy talks to everyone." True, how else can you meet people and learn new tidbits?! Nonetheless, I am ashamed to say we watched the game from the comfort of the lobby bar; it was way too freezing to actually attend.
More about the conference tomorrow.............
"After you," said the HUGE gentleman holding the door as I walked in. "Thank you, you guys must be football players," I joked. "In our spare time," they replied. I later learned they were members of the Argo's, in town for a final game with the Saskatchewan Rough Riders. Man, were they big! And charming. And polite. I, of course, chatted shamelessly with all of them whenever I spied one in the lobby. Had my picture taken with three or four.........will post later.
Another gem: the lobby bar of these old hotels. What great places! The food is great, the servers fabulous and the ambiance sublime. Everyone walks through the lobby and many take a break in the bar.
"Excuse me," I said to one perfect specimen sitting at the bar, "Are you with the Argo's?" "Yes, M'am," he replied. "Could I have your autograph please?" Certainly. He scribbled something unintelligible, so I asked him to print his name. "Ejiro Kuale". I then pronounced it and he was dumbfounded. "You are the first person to pronounce my name correctly, ever," he said. Ever? Apparently, yes. "Most people pronounce it "Koo-hail". He was Nigerian, but raised in Florida. "We have quite a few Nigerians in our parish and I guess I have picked up on name pronounciation here and there," I offered, thinking of our friends the Osakwe's -- Ejenna, the pharmacist, and Carlton, the economics prof at Mount Royal. With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two 50-yard-line tickets, row three, and invited us to the game as his guests.....and all because I pronounced his name correctly.
Googled him and it says he was born in Daytona Beach, but really it was Nigeria. He also played for the New Orleans Saints. Also met and had my picture taken with Tony Washington and offensive coach James Stanley. As B says, "Nancy talks to everyone." True, how else can you meet people and learn new tidbits?! Nonetheless, I am ashamed to say we watched the game from the comfort of the lobby bar; it was way too freezing to actually attend.
More about the conference tomorrow.............
More tales from the road..........
My blogs still have not arrived in Regina, although I am now back home, after a 2,000 km round-trip drive to Regina. But I have to tell you about lunch on the way in Brooks. After driving around the town looking for a place to stop, we settled on "Ricky's Grill". It was immaculate. Usually, when you go to a franchise grill you encounter grimy and grungy, but even the ketchup and salt and pepper were gleaming. So were the carpet and the tables.
Watched a huge rig drive into the parking lot and out stepped the trucker. She turned out to be a hefty young woman, which surprised me, but not really in Alberta. She was appropriately decked out in trucker duds and I was very impressed.
Stepping into the ladies' room, I overhead a "cowgirl" yakking from one stall to her friend in another about how her horse had had the nerve to bite her in the waist the other day when she went to ride him. "Well, I just hauled off and punched him in the snout," she said. "Oh, that's how it is, he (presumably the horse) said, and after that he was good as gold." I see, so that's how you settle down an uppity horse. Just whack it in the jaw. As someone very wary of huge horses, I would never, ever have the guts to punch a horse in the face, but apparently it works like a charm.
Last time I rode a horse I was a teenager. It was at the Seigneury Club in Montebello, Quebec, when the club was private (now it is a Fairmont, I believe). We hung aroung with John and Bill Booth (the lumber Booth's) and spent many a fabulous weekend there, squandering Marjorie Booth's money and wreaking "civilized" havoc. One morning we all went riding. I was terrified and naturally my horse knew it. Off we trotted and 10 minutes later he decided he wanted to return to the barn. Well, he turned around and bounded back with me hanging on for dear life -- screaming! John had to ride to my rescue, grab the horse and take control. I am not a woman who ever wants to be a "damsel in distress", but what a disaster.
Ever since, I have been terrified of horses. Punching one in the face would not have been an option.
More from Regina later.............
Watched a huge rig drive into the parking lot and out stepped the trucker. She turned out to be a hefty young woman, which surprised me, but not really in Alberta. She was appropriately decked out in trucker duds and I was very impressed.
Stepping into the ladies' room, I overhead a "cowgirl" yakking from one stall to her friend in another about how her horse had had the nerve to bite her in the waist the other day when she went to ride him. "Well, I just hauled off and punched him in the snout," she said. "Oh, that's how it is, he (presumably the horse) said, and after that he was good as gold." I see, so that's how you settle down an uppity horse. Just whack it in the jaw. As someone very wary of huge horses, I would never, ever have the guts to punch a horse in the face, but apparently it works like a charm.
Last time I rode a horse I was a teenager. It was at the Seigneury Club in Montebello, Quebec, when the club was private (now it is a Fairmont, I believe). We hung aroung with John and Bill Booth (the lumber Booth's) and spent many a fabulous weekend there, squandering Marjorie Booth's money and wreaking "civilized" havoc. One morning we all went riding. I was terrified and naturally my horse knew it. Off we trotted and 10 minutes later he decided he wanted to return to the barn. Well, he turned around and bounded back with me hanging on for dear life -- screaming! John had to ride to my rescue, grab the horse and take control. I am not a woman who ever wants to be a "damsel in distress", but what a disaster.
Ever since, I have been terrified of horses. Punching one in the face would not have been an option.
More from Regina later.............
Every town has one
A cheesy, Chinese restaurant. In "Swuf Kerin", a.k.a. Swift Current, it was Wong's. "If you don't mind me sayin', I'd get two dinners for one," said neighbour "Wayne" at the adjoining table. "That's what the wife and I do here. She's at a 'Red Hatter' affair, so I'm here on my own, but we always get two dinners for one, that way we switch dishes," he explained.
Well, that's what we did. As dinner continued, Wayne became our table mate and boy, did I learn a ton from this genial, 300-+-pound farmer. "It's all beef (or as he called them "cows") and oil here, plus canola and wheat of course," he explained, answering my questions about the hundreds of head of cattle we passed grazing alongside the "pump jacks". "I only have one pump jack on my land without oil rights, so I only get $2,500 per year because we farmers lost our mineral rights. But if I owned the rights I'd get $200,000 a year for one rig." Man!
According to Wayne, potash is booming and the snow geese I found so beautiful are "ruining the crops". And you can forget both Trudeau and Chretien...."they didn't do nothin' for the West," he pronounced. Funnily, he used only the present tense to describe everything -- past, present and future. "They come (not came) out here and done this and done that," would be the sentence. Come to think of it, it was present for past and past participle for past....or some such unique gramatical concoction.
But Wayne is very wealthy. "I sold one quarter (160 acres) for $900,000 and I have another five left," he said, making him a millionaire several times over. "But the thing I don't like is them Hutterites. They don't pay no taxes at all." Have to say I agree with him.
Dinner ended with a toothpick wedged firmly in his mouth and a discussion of the wheat board. "65% of us voted to keep the board, but it's gone anyway. They made a bad mistake getting rid of the small feeder rails lines to get grain out because hauling it by road is much more expensive," he added.
Were I a federal politician, I'd hightail it to "Swuf Kerin" and have a chat with Wayne before I formulated any Western policies.
Well, that's what we did. As dinner continued, Wayne became our table mate and boy, did I learn a ton from this genial, 300-+-pound farmer. "It's all beef (or as he called them "cows") and oil here, plus canola and wheat of course," he explained, answering my questions about the hundreds of head of cattle we passed grazing alongside the "pump jacks". "I only have one pump jack on my land without oil rights, so I only get $2,500 per year because we farmers lost our mineral rights. But if I owned the rights I'd get $200,000 a year for one rig." Man!
According to Wayne, potash is booming and the snow geese I found so beautiful are "ruining the crops". And you can forget both Trudeau and Chretien...."they didn't do nothin' for the West," he pronounced. Funnily, he used only the present tense to describe everything -- past, present and future. "They come (not came) out here and done this and done that," would be the sentence. Come to think of it, it was present for past and past participle for past....or some such unique gramatical concoction.
But Wayne is very wealthy. "I sold one quarter (160 acres) for $900,000 and I have another five left," he said, making him a millionaire several times over. "But the thing I don't like is them Hutterites. They don't pay no taxes at all." Have to say I agree with him.
Dinner ended with a toothpick wedged firmly in his mouth and a discussion of the wheat board. "65% of us voted to keep the board, but it's gone anyway. They made a bad mistake getting rid of the small feeder rails lines to get grain out because hauling it by road is much more expensive," he added.
Were I a federal politician, I'd hightail it to "Swuf Kerin" and have a chat with Wayne before I formulated any Western policies.
Friday, October 26, 2012
"Swuff Kerin"
That's how the locals pronounce "Swift Current", Saskatchewan. We stayed there last night on our way to Regina for the conference and met a very cool local farmer, Wayne, who filled us in on what's what in "Swuff Kerin". More on this later, when I have more time. But stay tuned for blogs about........
- the young, female long-haul trucker we met in Brooks,
- the female cowboy I met in the ladies' room who punched her horse in the face when he bit her in the waist,
- the wild, random condom selection in the washroom in Moose Jaw, and
- the Toronto Argonauts I met at the Saskatchewan Hotel here, in for a game with the Rough Riders, with whom I had my picture taken (natch) and the two tickets for the game one of them gave me.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Off to Regina
Well, off to Regina for a "Friends of the Canadian Crown" conference. Time once again to barricade the house and man the alarm, as we children of the '50s, used to leaving our neighbourhood doors open all night and day, now have to do.
This conference should be very exciting and will no doubt provide a ton of blog material, there undoubtedly to be found the odd crashing bore (or 50) marauding and prowling around. Seriously, the topics cover everything from "The Crown and the Media", "A Republican Option for Canada?" and "The Aborginal Peoples and the Crown"... to... "The Crown and Francophone Canada" (in French) and "The Succession to the Throne in Canada".
As a monarchist with a Mohawk great-grandmother, I will love it all. By the way, the Mohawks, a tribe of the Iroquois Nation, maintain the closest ties with the Monarchy and remain very proud of this heritage. It appears my loyalty is both genetic and nurtured.
May be able to blog from there, but for the moment I have to rustle through the closests and get my outfits together!
This conference should be very exciting and will no doubt provide a ton of blog material, there undoubtedly to be found the odd crashing bore (or 50) marauding and prowling around. Seriously, the topics cover everything from "The Crown and the Media", "A Republican Option for Canada?" and "The Aborginal Peoples and the Crown"... to... "The Crown and Francophone Canada" (in French) and "The Succession to the Throne in Canada".
As a monarchist with a Mohawk great-grandmother, I will love it all. By the way, the Mohawks, a tribe of the Iroquois Nation, maintain the closest ties with the Monarchy and remain very proud of this heritage. It appears my loyalty is both genetic and nurtured.
May be able to blog from there, but for the moment I have to rustle through the closests and get my outfits together!
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Was that Quincy Jones?
I nearly dropped when I saw who was featured in the Sea Bond Denture Cream commercial: music legend Quincy Jones. At first I thought, "it must be a guy who looks exactly like the famous genius." But no, B confirmed it was he. How sad. A brilliant and talented guy like Quincy Jones reduced to hawking false teeth adhesive.
It reminded me of the Brylcream commercials of a number of years ago featuring Canadian hockey great Rocket Richard. The Rocket also flogged fishing lures and matches, as I recall, after he retired from "The Habs" with a pathetically-meagre pension.
The difference between the two men's situations is that Maurice Richard and players of his era were paid an insulting pittance, so had to do something to survive in their dotage. Quincy Jones, on the other hand, made millions and millions over an illustrious career, but evidently spent too much of it unwisely -- on ex-wives, kids, toys and stuff.
Problem is that in the good old U S of A, he can't get health care -- or any other seniors' care -- something he probably needs now. That's my assumption, that practically non-existent social programs in the US just don't tally up to what even down-on-their-luck millionaires require.
Sad.
It reminded me of the Brylcream commercials of a number of years ago featuring Canadian hockey great Rocket Richard. The Rocket also flogged fishing lures and matches, as I recall, after he retired from "The Habs" with a pathetically-meagre pension.
The difference between the two men's situations is that Maurice Richard and players of his era were paid an insulting pittance, so had to do something to survive in their dotage. Quincy Jones, on the other hand, made millions and millions over an illustrious career, but evidently spent too much of it unwisely -- on ex-wives, kids, toys and stuff.
Problem is that in the good old U S of A, he can't get health care -- or any other seniors' care -- something he probably needs now. That's my assumption, that practically non-existent social programs in the US just don't tally up to what even down-on-their-luck millionaires require.
Sad.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Wherever two or more are gathered in My name
There we were, standing in front of the not-there-anymore Catholic church in Kona last Sunday. "The recording on the phone said it was right here," I said to B. "Well, not anymore," he deduced. Where was the church? And why did the message not say it had been torn down and was being re-built? We spotted another couple wandering around, "Excuse me, do you know where the Catholic church is?" "That's what we're looking for," they said. So, now what?
A beautiful grotto, featuring a statue of Mary still stood. We got out of the car. "Well, why not have a little service ourselves?" I suggested. "Great idea," they said. So, we had our own little Mass right there. Turned out they were Australians and the wife knew her catechism cold. She led us in a decade of the rosary and a few other prayers I, as a convert, did not know. B, of course, knew the whole thing in Latin. He is the only person I know who actually speaks Latin. Can you believe that?!
What a beautiful moment, holding our own Mass with complete strangers who quickly became kindred spirits. Jesus was definitely present. Turns out they were there to watch their son do iron man, as we were to watch son-in-law Colin. Also turns out both finished within three minutes of each other. And hadn't the husband, John, played on the Australian national rugby team...another family sport. We intend to keep in touch. Another man joined us to pray and we asked him to take a picture, here is it:
Thanks to John and Margaret Weber for helping us say Mass in Kona!
A beautiful grotto, featuring a statue of Mary still stood. We got out of the car. "Well, why not have a little service ourselves?" I suggested. "Great idea," they said. So, we had our own little Mass right there. Turned out they were Australians and the wife knew her catechism cold. She led us in a decade of the rosary and a few other prayers I, as a convert, did not know. B, of course, knew the whole thing in Latin. He is the only person I know who actually speaks Latin. Can you believe that?!
What a beautiful moment, holding our own Mass with complete strangers who quickly became kindred spirits. Jesus was definitely present. Turns out they were there to watch their son do iron man, as we were to watch son-in-law Colin. Also turns out both finished within three minutes of each other. And hadn't the husband, John, played on the Australian national rugby team...another family sport. We intend to keep in touch. Another man joined us to pray and we asked him to take a picture, here is it:
Thanks to John and Margaret Weber for helping us say Mass in Kona!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Cutting a rug with The Beatles
"I can't jive," said the young hockey player. "If NHLers can figure skate on 'Battle of the Blades', you can jive," I told him, as we headed out onto the dance floor. That did it, he got into it. "See, you can jive," I said, after the dance. "That's because you led," he pointed out. True, I did lead, but anyone can jive. Just keep twirling and turning, that's about it. A couple of times I feared my high heels might do me in, but miraculously they came through and I held on and remained upright.
This took place last night at The Ranchmen's Club, where they had staged a special Beatles night, complete with a pretty good tribute band. We had been seated with the young player's parents and wife. A goalie, his favouite player of all time was Patrick Roy, but now it was Kiprasov. "Ever heard of Terry Sawchuk or Tony Esposito? What about Johnny Bower or Jacques Plant?" I asked. Who??? Seriously. But what a blast. The music brought back so many memories of high school and university, when the Beatles were huge. Naturally, the first song they played was "She Loves You".
The evening featured a multi-media presentation by University of Calgary music appreciation and history lecturer, James Istvanffy, about the famous band. We must have been the oldest members there because everyone oohed-and-ahhed at stuff we already knew. Can you imagine, you can take a course on The Beatles?! "You should tell them about playing drums with them at the Cavern in Liverpool," I whispered to B. "No, who cares?" he replied. Who cares!!! Everyone in the bloody room.
Much to B's chagrin, when the lecture finished and the prof asked for questions, I stood up. "This isn't really a question, but my husband played drums with The Beatles in 1961 in Liverpool... Brian..." I said as I turned to him. So, up he had to stand. And he delivered. Here's the tale:
When he had been in graduate school at LSE in London in '61, a couple of his female cousins took him to the Cavern to hear this "fabulous band". Knowing them well (being air stewardesses didn't hurt,) his cousins sat at their table and introduced B. Feature it. Too "over-refreshed" at the end of the evening to play the last set, Pete Best bailed and George Harrison asked B (who had played drums in dives on rue Ste. Denis) to join them. So, that was how B ended up playing drums with The Beatles.
After he finished his story, everyone clapped like mad -- including the awe-struck band members. The prof then came over, told B he was a part of history and asked for his card. "I'll be calling you." Who knows? Maybe B will be invited as a guest to one of his lectures?
All great fun.
This took place last night at The Ranchmen's Club, where they had staged a special Beatles night, complete with a pretty good tribute band. We had been seated with the young player's parents and wife. A goalie, his favouite player of all time was Patrick Roy, but now it was Kiprasov. "Ever heard of Terry Sawchuk or Tony Esposito? What about Johnny Bower or Jacques Plant?" I asked. Who??? Seriously. But what a blast. The music brought back so many memories of high school and university, when the Beatles were huge. Naturally, the first song they played was "She Loves You".
The evening featured a multi-media presentation by University of Calgary music appreciation and history lecturer, James Istvanffy, about the famous band. We must have been the oldest members there because everyone oohed-and-ahhed at stuff we already knew. Can you imagine, you can take a course on The Beatles?! "You should tell them about playing drums with them at the Cavern in Liverpool," I whispered to B. "No, who cares?" he replied. Who cares!!! Everyone in the bloody room.
Much to B's chagrin, when the lecture finished and the prof asked for questions, I stood up. "This isn't really a question, but my husband played drums with The Beatles in 1961 in Liverpool... Brian..." I said as I turned to him. So, up he had to stand. And he delivered. Here's the tale:
When he had been in graduate school at LSE in London in '61, a couple of his female cousins took him to the Cavern to hear this "fabulous band". Knowing them well (being air stewardesses didn't hurt,) his cousins sat at their table and introduced B. Feature it. Too "over-refreshed" at the end of the evening to play the last set, Pete Best bailed and George Harrison asked B (who had played drums in dives on rue Ste. Denis) to join them. So, that was how B ended up playing drums with The Beatles.
After he finished his story, everyone clapped like mad -- including the awe-struck band members. The prof then came over, told B he was a part of history and asked for his card. "I'll be calling you." Who knows? Maybe B will be invited as a guest to one of his lectures?
All great fun.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Making a splash
Ventured back to the pool this morning for the first time since we returned. "Hey, where have you been? Long time no see!"
Mike and Phil, the lifeguards; the retired teached and ex-lifeguard (me too, so we both spend a fair amount of time critiquing the staff); the smart, middle-aged, cool broad and great swimmer with the fabulous body; my old nemesis who couldn't stand my passing him; a bitch who never says hello and thinks she's Marilyn Bell on her flutter board (whoa, that reference ages me!); the so-polite, middle-aged gentleman who always insists I go first, "no after you, please, you're faster"; the very droll American ex-pat...they were all their usual selves and wanting to be filled in on where I had been.
Swimming my lengths thus took a little longer, as I had to stop and chat pretty often. And then there was the anexoric I have befriended. A very accomplished professional, she is the nicest person, but effectively shunned because of her condition. I have made it a point to chit-chat in a feeble attempt to make her feel more "normal". But watching her in the shower is like being in a gross anatomy class in med school. So painfully emaciated, every inch of her skeleton shows through her paper-thin skin. She swims 70 laps every morning before work and someone told me she does it again every day after. Sad.
Back to "my nemesis". He is now correcting my strokes, so feels much better about his prowess and my inferiority. "Do you mind if I give you a few tips on your backstroke?" he asks this morning as I swim up. "Please do." "Well, if you use your arms like this, instead of like that, you will get much more reach -- like they do in competition. You have to sort of roll with each stroke," he patiently explains. Gee, thanks! That's so much better.
He's teaching himself the butterfly, so I guess that's my next lesson. Ugh, painful! It's good to be back in the pool.
Mike and Phil, the lifeguards; the retired teached and ex-lifeguard (me too, so we both spend a fair amount of time critiquing the staff); the smart, middle-aged, cool broad and great swimmer with the fabulous body; my old nemesis who couldn't stand my passing him; a bitch who never says hello and thinks she's Marilyn Bell on her flutter board (whoa, that reference ages me!); the so-polite, middle-aged gentleman who always insists I go first, "no after you, please, you're faster"; the very droll American ex-pat...they were all their usual selves and wanting to be filled in on where I had been.
Swimming my lengths thus took a little longer, as I had to stop and chat pretty often. And then there was the anexoric I have befriended. A very accomplished professional, she is the nicest person, but effectively shunned because of her condition. I have made it a point to chit-chat in a feeble attempt to make her feel more "normal". But watching her in the shower is like being in a gross anatomy class in med school. So painfully emaciated, every inch of her skeleton shows through her paper-thin skin. She swims 70 laps every morning before work and someone told me she does it again every day after. Sad.
Back to "my nemesis". He is now correcting my strokes, so feels much better about his prowess and my inferiority. "Do you mind if I give you a few tips on your backstroke?" he asks this morning as I swim up. "Please do." "Well, if you use your arms like this, instead of like that, you will get much more reach -- like they do in competition. You have to sort of roll with each stroke," he patiently explains. Gee, thanks! That's so much better.
He's teaching himself the butterfly, so I guess that's my next lesson. Ugh, painful! It's good to be back in the pool.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Kona Iron Man visit
Shots from Kona, where Colin had a great iron man!
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| Not sure who these guys were, flying too fast! |
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| Post-race swim the next day. |
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| Guess who?! |
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| Susanne and Reed. |
This is how the crazy woman who crossed in front of the bikes ended up.
Scenes from Houston, 2012
I can be as boring as the next guy. Here are a few shots from our visit to Houston.
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| With Jack and Caitlin in my new palazzo pants. |
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| With neighbour Florence, who is a reader and gave me a pass to her fitness club so I could swim. |
Sarah, Caitlin and Jack
Neighbourhood "chilli cookoff", guess this guy likes his chilli!
Had a great time!
Where's the truth?
"Whenever I want anything remotely true, I tune into the BBC," said an American I met on the plane. "You can't get truth on American TV." Have to agree. CNN is this, FOX is that, ABC is something else. The presidential debates were a perfect example. Some talking heads said Romney was the clear winner, others Obama, some said Biden, others Ryan.
The truth is, no one has any answers. As a matter of fact, no one has even identified the problem. Here's the answer, but wait, what's the question? The Republicans claim the US is on a precipice, but the Democrats claim it's only a gully created, naturally, by the previous Bush administration.
But if you want a peek at the truth, read a facinating book entitled, "The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order", by Samuel P. Huntington. B just finished it and it is both a heavy read and pretty depressing. Basically, the Muslims are going to win simply because of demographics; they are procreating more. Europe is in decline and so is most of the West.
"Multiculturalism at home treatens the United States and the West; universalism abroad threatens the West and the world. Both deny the uniqueness of Western culture. A multicultural America is impossible because a non-Western America is not American. A multicultural world is unavoidable because global empire is impossible.
"The preservation of the West requires the renewal of Western identity. The security of the world requires acceptance of global multiculturality."
So, basically we're done. And the presidential debates and whoever wins this or that election is not going to be able to do much about anything anywhere in the West. I have never thought about it before, but governing the US is next-to-impossible because there are just too many individual states. How can anyone agree on anything with 50 states in the mix. We have a better chance here because we have only 10 provinces. Look at China, with a population of 2 billion, they only have 30 provinces; same with Russia.
When it comes to Canadian fiscal policy, we have done pretty well because of tight regulations. But to tell you the truth, Mark Carney might as well be Art Carney, in terms of Canada's influence globally.
And US foreign policy? It's basically get bigger bullets and kill more dictators. First it was Bin Laden, then Gaddafi and now sights are trained on Assad. The next move is to work through Israel by providing them with the ammunition to deal with Iran because Americans are fed up with direct wars, like Iraq and Afghanistan.
I think I should stick to Hawaii.
The truth is, no one has any answers. As a matter of fact, no one has even identified the problem. Here's the answer, but wait, what's the question? The Republicans claim the US is on a precipice, but the Democrats claim it's only a gully created, naturally, by the previous Bush administration.
But if you want a peek at the truth, read a facinating book entitled, "The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order", by Samuel P. Huntington. B just finished it and it is both a heavy read and pretty depressing. Basically, the Muslims are going to win simply because of demographics; they are procreating more. Europe is in decline and so is most of the West.
"Multiculturalism at home treatens the United States and the West; universalism abroad threatens the West and the world. Both deny the uniqueness of Western culture. A multicultural America is impossible because a non-Western America is not American. A multicultural world is unavoidable because global empire is impossible.
"The preservation of the West requires the renewal of Western identity. The security of the world requires acceptance of global multiculturality."
So, basically we're done. And the presidential debates and whoever wins this or that election is not going to be able to do much about anything anywhere in the West. I have never thought about it before, but governing the US is next-to-impossible because there are just too many individual states. How can anyone agree on anything with 50 states in the mix. We have a better chance here because we have only 10 provinces. Look at China, with a population of 2 billion, they only have 30 provinces; same with Russia.
When it comes to Canadian fiscal policy, we have done pretty well because of tight regulations. But to tell you the truth, Mark Carney might as well be Art Carney, in terms of Canada's influence globally.
And US foreign policy? It's basically get bigger bullets and kill more dictators. First it was Bin Laden, then Gaddafi and now sights are trained on Assad. The next move is to work through Israel by providing them with the ammunition to deal with Iran because Americans are fed up with direct wars, like Iraq and Afghanistan.
I think I should stick to Hawaii.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
So there I was........
.....punching and pushing every button on the radio. But low and behold, it was an old-fashioned dial tuner that you had to zoom in and out with your fingers. Whoa! That was me in our villa in Kona. The other thing that made me laugh was when I asked a young staffer at the local grocery store if they sold "film". "Film? What's that?", she asked. Yeah, people under a certain age have no idea what bloody film is.
A few days ago I bought groceries in a local mart. The young man at the cash asked for my phone number so I could save $$. Gave it to him. Several customers later, he asked daughter Susanne for hers. Spotting me waiting for her he said, "I'll just use your Mum's number." He had actually remembered my phone number five customers later!
The biggest shock came three days later -- three days! Three days! Went back and.....wait for it, he looked at me and......remembered my phone number! How can that be??!! I stupidly asked him if he were an "idiot savant, without the idiot part"? He said he was, but was no good at math. Huh??!! This young man amazed me.
Walking out of the store, I spied a couple of very weird animals. Ugly, small, long and brown. Turns out they were mongoose(s). They eat insects and rodents, so that was a confirmation that there are rodents in Hawaii.
More later................
A few days ago I bought groceries in a local mart. The young man at the cash asked for my phone number so I could save $$. Gave it to him. Several customers later, he asked daughter Susanne for hers. Spotting me waiting for her he said, "I'll just use your Mum's number." He had actually remembered my phone number five customers later!
The biggest shock came three days later -- three days! Three days! Went back and.....wait for it, he looked at me and......remembered my phone number! How can that be??!! I stupidly asked him if he were an "idiot savant, without the idiot part"? He said he was, but was no good at math. Huh??!! This young man amazed me.
Walking out of the store, I spied a couple of very weird animals. Ugly, small, long and brown. Turns out they were mongoose(s). They eat insects and rodents, so that was a confirmation that there are rodents in Hawaii.
More later................
Kona tales
B and I could not get seats together on the flight to Kona and that turned out to be a good thing because I was seated beside two very cool guys. One was a corporate jet pilot who worked for "a large financial institution", as he put it. Retired from the US air force, Ray now makes a ton of dough flying people around the world in Gulf Stream jets. I used to be a white-knuckle flyer many, many years ago, but overcame it by reading books on aerodynamics, i.e., why the hell planes actually stay in the air?! It used to be about as logical to me as a concrete block flying.
"Young pilots today don't really know how to fly planes," he added unhelpfully. Say what?! "No, it's pretty much all done by computer, so if they get into trouble and actually have to fly the aircraft, they don't always make the right decisions." Great thing to tell someone who secretly still really doesn't like to fly.
"It's all about lift and thrust, that's the trick," I said to Ray. "Yeah, that's the good stuff. You can't come down if life-and-thrust are OK," he replied. I knew that. He was going to Kona to watch his daughter compete in the Iron Man, as were we to watch son-in-law, Colin. Ray is also a triathlete. I felt like a slob. Why do I never wear makeup when I should!!??
Naturally, talk turned to the Canadian health-care system. "Is it really bad?" asked Ray. "No, it's great," I replied. If you need critical care you get it right away, I explained. Then I had to tell him all about Parliamentary democracy, the benefits of our un-elected Senate, provincial transfer payments from the "have" to the "have-not" provinces (this one floored him)....and on and on. It's amazing how little Americans know of Canada.
The guy on my right was a big, burly man. Guess what he was? A nurse practioner, with a wife who was a marine biologist. Amazing what you find out when you interview people!
Had a great time in "Ha-vie-ee", as the locals pronounce it. But what a mess race day was for B and I! Had to park a thousand miles away and walk to the start. Of course, we missed the swim and could not cross the road to see the bike start. Duh! One woman stupidly crossed the road, was hit by a cyclist and lay there almost dead until they could clear a path for an ambulance.
I mean, if you're that dumb, die. These guys are pounding out of the transition at 50 km's per hour and they are not going to stop the race and screw up everyone's time for "Big Bertha" who lumbers into their path.
Never have I seen so many perfect specimens of the human body. Remember, the competitors in Kona are the best in their respective countries. No punters here. It's not exactly the "Graham Beasley" in Carleton Place, where you have people doing the dog paddle, getting on a tric with training wheels and then jogging. No. These men and women are the cream of the crop from all over the world. Our son-in-law did magnificently, 9 hours, 50 minutes.
Had to laugh about the Russians who were staying in our villa. They were always parading around in their "Iron Man finery", but the night clerk told us they bailed halfway through the bike part. Could not take the heat.
More tales later.
"Young pilots today don't really know how to fly planes," he added unhelpfully. Say what?! "No, it's pretty much all done by computer, so if they get into trouble and actually have to fly the aircraft, they don't always make the right decisions." Great thing to tell someone who secretly still really doesn't like to fly.
"It's all about lift and thrust, that's the trick," I said to Ray. "Yeah, that's the good stuff. You can't come down if life-and-thrust are OK," he replied. I knew that. He was going to Kona to watch his daughter compete in the Iron Man, as were we to watch son-in-law, Colin. Ray is also a triathlete. I felt like a slob. Why do I never wear makeup when I should!!??
Naturally, talk turned to the Canadian health-care system. "Is it really bad?" asked Ray. "No, it's great," I replied. If you need critical care you get it right away, I explained. Then I had to tell him all about Parliamentary democracy, the benefits of our un-elected Senate, provincial transfer payments from the "have" to the "have-not" provinces (this one floored him)....and on and on. It's amazing how little Americans know of Canada.
The guy on my right was a big, burly man. Guess what he was? A nurse practioner, with a wife who was a marine biologist. Amazing what you find out when you interview people!
Had a great time in "Ha-vie-ee", as the locals pronounce it. But what a mess race day was for B and I! Had to park a thousand miles away and walk to the start. Of course, we missed the swim and could not cross the road to see the bike start. Duh! One woman stupidly crossed the road, was hit by a cyclist and lay there almost dead until they could clear a path for an ambulance.
I mean, if you're that dumb, die. These guys are pounding out of the transition at 50 km's per hour and they are not going to stop the race and screw up everyone's time for "Big Bertha" who lumbers into their path.
Here she is in all her glory, laid out with bikes whizzing past at break-neck speed.
Had to laugh about the Russians who were staying in our villa. They were always parading around in their "Iron Man finery", but the night clerk told us they bailed halfway through the bike part. Could not take the heat.
More tales later.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Flip-laps
"Don't forget your flip-laps 'Amma," says grandson Jack, as we are about to venture to the beach in Galveston yesterday. "My what?" "Your flip-laps!" Asked because I just wanted to hear him say it again. Too cute. "Alligators" are "elevators"........plus a host of other slightly off words, as he begins to master English. And don't even get me started on adorable granddaughter Caitlin. She is all vowels and consonants; words aren't really her speciality yet, but you can certainly understand her.
"Are those are my clothes?" asks Jack, spying the piles destined for our other grandson, Reed. "Yes, and it's so nice of you to give them to him," I add. "Baby Reed needs these clothes," confirms Jack generously. How sweet.
Just walked in the door from our visit to Houston. At the airport dropping us off, Sarah wasn't sure of the terminal (Houston has a ton), so she asked B to get out and ask. In he lumbers. As he stood staring blankly at a hundred screens, Sarah lept out of the car and ran up to the first-class agent. "Excuse me," said our veteran of the hospitality industry, "My parents are old and I am trying to help them check in. Where should they go?" (She knows how to deal with people perfectly, just act dumb and pity takes over.) "I'll take them right here," the agent says. In we schlep and her supervisor says, "Are you first-class?" "I'm taking them here," says the first-class agent. The supervisor backs off. So bing, bang, boom, we drop off our bags, brilliant Sarah having checked us in earlier from home.
Then it's off to security screening, where B is asked to practically stip naked. "My pants will fall down if I take off my belt," he explains. "I'm sorry, sir, you have to remove your belt." "Well, it won't be the first time I've dropped my pants in public," he deadpans. The two agents burst into laughter. Charmingly, having lost a bunch of weight, his trousers settled endearingly around his knobby knees. Too bloody funny!
I always "beep" because I won't take off my bracelets and bling for anyone. Usually I get "wanded", but today it was the full body scan x-ray. Hey, enjoy my derriere in technicolour!
Then it's off to another "Priority Lounge". But in Houston, there is actually no actual food...actually. Just fruit and cheese and crackers, oh, and booze. So we snacked and then boarded the plane, to be met by two "old" stewardesses. I love the fact that they don't force them to retire at 30-something anymore. Why did women put up with this for so many thousand years??!! A sad and demeaning North American version of the burkha, for G-d's sake. These ladies were in their fifties....B estimated even 60s. "I have worked for United since I started 30 years ago," replied one when B indelicately asked how long she had been with United. Geeze, B, why not just ask her her friggin' age!!
Style alert: stewardesses have the most fabulous jewellery -- absolutely expensive and perfectly elegant. But I gotta tell you once again, a $5 pair of earrings from Shoppers out-does expensive every time.
Well, off to Kona tomorrow!
"Are those are my clothes?" asks Jack, spying the piles destined for our other grandson, Reed. "Yes, and it's so nice of you to give them to him," I add. "Baby Reed needs these clothes," confirms Jack generously. How sweet.
Just walked in the door from our visit to Houston. At the airport dropping us off, Sarah wasn't sure of the terminal (Houston has a ton), so she asked B to get out and ask. In he lumbers. As he stood staring blankly at a hundred screens, Sarah lept out of the car and ran up to the first-class agent. "Excuse me," said our veteran of the hospitality industry, "My parents are old and I am trying to help them check in. Where should they go?" (She knows how to deal with people perfectly, just act dumb and pity takes over.) "I'll take them right here," the agent says. In we schlep and her supervisor says, "Are you first-class?" "I'm taking them here," says the first-class agent. The supervisor backs off. So bing, bang, boom, we drop off our bags, brilliant Sarah having checked us in earlier from home.
Then it's off to security screening, where B is asked to practically stip naked. "My pants will fall down if I take off my belt," he explains. "I'm sorry, sir, you have to remove your belt." "Well, it won't be the first time I've dropped my pants in public," he deadpans. The two agents burst into laughter. Charmingly, having lost a bunch of weight, his trousers settled endearingly around his knobby knees. Too bloody funny!
I always "beep" because I won't take off my bracelets and bling for anyone. Usually I get "wanded", but today it was the full body scan x-ray. Hey, enjoy my derriere in technicolour!
Then it's off to another "Priority Lounge". But in Houston, there is actually no actual food...actually. Just fruit and cheese and crackers, oh, and booze. So we snacked and then boarded the plane, to be met by two "old" stewardesses. I love the fact that they don't force them to retire at 30-something anymore. Why did women put up with this for so many thousand years??!! A sad and demeaning North American version of the burkha, for G-d's sake. These ladies were in their fifties....B estimated even 60s. "I have worked for United since I started 30 years ago," replied one when B indelicately asked how long she had been with United. Geeze, B, why not just ask her her friggin' age!!
Style alert: stewardesses have the most fabulous jewellery -- absolutely expensive and perfectly elegant. But I gotta tell you once again, a $5 pair of earrings from Shoppers out-does expensive every time.
Well, off to Kona tomorrow!
Monday, October 8, 2012
More shoes
They were originally $89.99, marked down to $44.95. In Canada they would have been a bargain at $180.00. A gorgeous pair of shiny, toe-cleavage, fuschia and orange high heels. "Hey, what about these?", Sarah said, browsing the summer clearance aisles. I hadn't noticed them, but Sarah always finds the best buys. Yep, we were rummaging through DSW, "Discount Shoe Warehouse", on a mission to buy one of my favourite wardrobe items: high heels. (There's a reason this blog has the title it has.)
Generous almost to a fault, Sarah had dug out all her DSW coupons before we left. Cashing them in at the checkout (they always honour the expired ones), what did I actually end up paying for these fabulous "Liz Claiborne's"? $2.00. Would that ever happen in Canada? Never, ever, ever.
Then it was off to "Charming Charlie's", a huge outlet jammed with another of my favourites: accessories. They have everything imaginable required to take the "little black dress" from drab to fab. And I nailed it. It was $9.97 for these earrings, $12.97 for that choker, $5.47 for this bracelet..........walked out with about 10 new outfits for $60 bucks. As I have said, when I had no money, I learned how to "dress for (much) less"....as they say.
It's always about the earrings, the necklace and the shoes. Period. The end.
Generous almost to a fault, Sarah had dug out all her DSW coupons before we left. Cashing them in at the checkout (they always honour the expired ones), what did I actually end up paying for these fabulous "Liz Claiborne's"? $2.00. Would that ever happen in Canada? Never, ever, ever.
Then it was off to "Charming Charlie's", a huge outlet jammed with another of my favourites: accessories. They have everything imaginable required to take the "little black dress" from drab to fab. And I nailed it. It was $9.97 for these earrings, $12.97 for that choker, $5.47 for this bracelet..........walked out with about 10 new outfits for $60 bucks. As I have said, when I had no money, I learned how to "dress for (much) less"....as they say.
It's always about the earrings, the necklace and the shoes. Period. The end.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
More tales from Houston.......
Went to Mass at St. John Vianney Parish this morning. Absolutely huge! Must have been 1,200 people there. And the choir! Nothing amateurish about it. A full, professional chorale, instruments and all.
The homily was.....well, "interesting" to say the least. A full condemnation of:
Interestingly, the priest said, "Funny how homosexuals want to get married and heterosexuals don't." Yes, most gay couples are very conservative and family-oriented, but I don't think he meant it in the positive way that I do.
As a practicing Catholic, I tend to ignore a lot of the Church....like the Pope, unrealistic or vicious homilies and sin and stuff...and focus on what I enjoy: the music, the ceremony, the candles, the incense and the ritual. The rest of it can pretty much disappear.
Well, time for turkey.
p.s. Yes, son-in-law and family chef John always celebrates Canadian Thanksgiving. What a peach.
The homily was.....well, "interesting" to say the least. A full condemnation of:
- divorce
- adultery
- homosexuality
- pornography
- sex abuse (oops, a few priests in on that one)
- same-sex marriage
- contraception
- hooking up
- casual sex
- promiscuity
- child abuse, and
- the internet in general
Interestingly, the priest said, "Funny how homosexuals want to get married and heterosexuals don't." Yes, most gay couples are very conservative and family-oriented, but I don't think he meant it in the positive way that I do.
As a practicing Catholic, I tend to ignore a lot of the Church....like the Pope, unrealistic or vicious homilies and sin and stuff...and focus on what I enjoy: the music, the ceremony, the candles, the incense and the ritual. The rest of it can pretty much disappear.
Well, time for turkey.
p.s. Yes, son-in-law and family chef John always celebrates Canadian Thanksgiving. What a peach.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
The heat is wonderful
Yep, Houston is hot, but after leaving Calgary in a snow storm, I am loving it. Everything is very green and verdant -- there are even little lizards scampering throughout the garden. Grandchildren have absolutely no fear of them, so I can't show any squeamishness.
Bought a book for the flight here, but made the mistake of picking up the "Sky Mall" catalogue. Could not put it down. Who buys this stuff?? I mean, do you need a "shady visor with a built in toupee"? Seriously. There is a "before and after" shot of the bald guy and then the transformation to a full head of fake hair sticking out of the top of the visor. Hideous.
What about a "head and eye massager"? For $199.99, you strap on a helmut-like contraption, plug it in and bingo, a personal head, temple and eye massage. And hey, you gotta have a "Shoe de-odourizer", "the better way to kill the germs and fungus that cause foot odour", a plug-in shoe tree that gives off UV rays. It's amazing! And the pet section is even more extreme, with special beds, mattresses crates and doors for your pampered dog or cat.
"Treat plantar fasciitis heel pain with a massage" reads another. "Simply roll your feet over the sphere and allow the textured, knobby surface to provide a deep tissue massage." Only 19.99 for a flimsy, plastic ball. You can also encase your entire body with wrap-around hot and cold packs. $80.00.
You could not make any of this up.
May not gain 100 pounds. Daughter Sarah's neighbour came over with a guest pass for me to her health club. How nice is that! So, did my laps in an outdoor pool this morning. Haven't been in an outdoor pool since I went with my other daughter in the UBC pool four years ago. So great.
Well, off to a neighbourhood chilli cookoff.
Bought a book for the flight here, but made the mistake of picking up the "Sky Mall" catalogue. Could not put it down. Who buys this stuff?? I mean, do you need a "shady visor with a built in toupee"? Seriously. There is a "before and after" shot of the bald guy and then the transformation to a full head of fake hair sticking out of the top of the visor. Hideous.
What about a "head and eye massager"? For $199.99, you strap on a helmut-like contraption, plug it in and bingo, a personal head, temple and eye massage. And hey, you gotta have a "Shoe de-odourizer", "the better way to kill the germs and fungus that cause foot odour", a plug-in shoe tree that gives off UV rays. It's amazing! And the pet section is even more extreme, with special beds, mattresses crates and doors for your pampered dog or cat.
"Treat plantar fasciitis heel pain with a massage" reads another. "Simply roll your feet over the sphere and allow the textured, knobby surface to provide a deep tissue massage." Only 19.99 for a flimsy, plastic ball. You can also encase your entire body with wrap-around hot and cold packs. $80.00.
You could not make any of this up.
May not gain 100 pounds. Daughter Sarah's neighbour came over with a guest pass for me to her health club. How nice is that! So, did my laps in an outdoor pool this morning. Haven't been in an outdoor pool since I went with my other daughter in the UBC pool four years ago. So great.
Well, off to a neighbourhood chilli cookoff.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Back in another airport
Well, here I am in the priority pass lounge (think it's called The Chinook) at the Calgary airport, awaiting a flight to Houston to visit step-daughter's family for grandson Jack's fourth birthday. As I have blogged before, were it not for these lounges, I would never, ever, ever fly. But here I can blog, while enjoying a lovely glass of wine and a turkey club. For the record, I am studiously avoiding the racks of those addictive "Miss Vickie's", good for me!
Thanks to the fact that we had.....wait for it.....a big snow storm(!!) last night, all the flights are delayed. But you still have to get here at the same time, "in the event we will be able to depart sooner," says the recording on the phone. But never mind, when you finally get through customs and security, if you buy a priority pass every year you can stand it in perfect comfort. (It's not really that expensive, look into it.) Everything in these places is covered, so you don't have to get out your wallet to eat and drink.
Back to getting a boarding pass. What's up with those friggin' "self check-in" kiosks??!! Who the hell can ever figure them out. After following all the prompts and touching this screen and that and giving more information than you would need for security clearance at the PCO, it tells me I have to "see an agent for transaction completion". Apparently the hyphenated last name is the problem. G-d!
Isn't getting out of town a painful chore? What with dealing with garbage, food that might spoil, cancelling the paper, changing the message on the phone, making sure the alarm is functioning, asking the neighbours to keep an eye on the place, putting the wooden poles into the door and window tracks so they can't be opened...you name it, has to be dealt with. But I am looking forward to the hot weather in Houston and seeing my grandchildren.
With no swimming for a week, will probably gain a 100 pounds at a bare minimum. Yuck to that. Speaking of grandchildren, spent yesterday afternoon with nine-month-old Reed. We went swimming and exploring. What a gift it is to be around this little person, the only reason I am living in Calgary.
Well, won't be blogging for a week. Oh, by the way, wanted to comment on Justin Trudeau's entry into the race. I have known Justin from afar since he was a kid at the same school ours went to. Unfortunately, he has more of Margaret than Pierre in his genes. But he will definitely win and he will definitely beat Harper.....goes without saying Mulcair is toast. I only hope Harper accelerates his agenda in the interim. Justin will take us back to the bad, old Liberal days of deficit spending and free-wheeling immigration policy.
Oh, dear, oh dear.
Thanks to the fact that we had.....wait for it.....a big snow storm(!!) last night, all the flights are delayed. But you still have to get here at the same time, "in the event we will be able to depart sooner," says the recording on the phone. But never mind, when you finally get through customs and security, if you buy a priority pass every year you can stand it in perfect comfort. (It's not really that expensive, look into it.) Everything in these places is covered, so you don't have to get out your wallet to eat and drink.
Back to getting a boarding pass. What's up with those friggin' "self check-in" kiosks??!! Who the hell can ever figure them out. After following all the prompts and touching this screen and that and giving more information than you would need for security clearance at the PCO, it tells me I have to "see an agent for transaction completion". Apparently the hyphenated last name is the problem. G-d!
Isn't getting out of town a painful chore? What with dealing with garbage, food that might spoil, cancelling the paper, changing the message on the phone, making sure the alarm is functioning, asking the neighbours to keep an eye on the place, putting the wooden poles into the door and window tracks so they can't be opened...you name it, has to be dealt with. But I am looking forward to the hot weather in Houston and seeing my grandchildren.
With no swimming for a week, will probably gain a 100 pounds at a bare minimum. Yuck to that. Speaking of grandchildren, spent yesterday afternoon with nine-month-old Reed. We went swimming and exploring. What a gift it is to be around this little person, the only reason I am living in Calgary.
Well, won't be blogging for a week. Oh, by the way, wanted to comment on Justin Trudeau's entry into the race. I have known Justin from afar since he was a kid at the same school ours went to. Unfortunately, he has more of Margaret than Pierre in his genes. But he will definitely win and he will definitely beat Harper.....goes without saying Mulcair is toast. I only hope Harper accelerates his agenda in the interim. Justin will take us back to the bad, old Liberal days of deficit spending and free-wheeling immigration policy.
Oh, dear, oh dear.
Monday, October 1, 2012
So, Dan............
This is for "Hairburner". Out for dinner on notorious 17th Avenue this evening and was seated beside an absolutely gorgeous young woman! You have to know that the average age in Calgary is 34, so we are always the geezers everywhere we go. But! But! But! Not to let them see the whites of my eyes, I usually spot something. This evening it was her hair.
Trimmed tightly around the ears and back, it was about three to four inches long on top. Stunning jet black. "You are gorgeous," I said to her. Surprised, she said, "Thank you so much." Her hair was upright, but not gelled or stiff. Some of it then curled down over her forehead, the rest was bolt upright. "What do you use to get your hair that way?" I asked. "Hair clay and wax," she replied. "I don't want it greasy." Took her picture with my phone, but have no clue how to insert it into this blog. Duh.
So, Dan, what do you think? What was she doing with her hair to get it so beautifully tousled, yet stationary? What the h-ll is hair clay? I await your expert comments.
p.s. Canada's darling, Barbara Ann Scott, died yesterday. Before Nancy Greene, there was Barbara Ann, the only woman ever to have won gold for Canada at the Olympics in figure skating. 1948. I remember seeing her perform at the Minto Skating Club on Argyle Street, where the YMCA now sits. She did a spiral and glided all around the rink without stopping. It was magical! How she kept moving I will never know?
Trimmed tightly around the ears and back, it was about three to four inches long on top. Stunning jet black. "You are gorgeous," I said to her. Surprised, she said, "Thank you so much." Her hair was upright, but not gelled or stiff. Some of it then curled down over her forehead, the rest was bolt upright. "What do you use to get your hair that way?" I asked. "Hair clay and wax," she replied. "I don't want it greasy." Took her picture with my phone, but have no clue how to insert it into this blog. Duh.
So, Dan, what do you think? What was she doing with her hair to get it so beautifully tousled, yet stationary? What the h-ll is hair clay? I await your expert comments.
p.s. Canada's darling, Barbara Ann Scott, died yesterday. Before Nancy Greene, there was Barbara Ann, the only woman ever to have won gold for Canada at the Olympics in figure skating. 1948. I remember seeing her perform at the Minto Skating Club on Argyle Street, where the YMCA now sits. She did a spiral and glided all around the rink without stopping. It was magical! How she kept moving I will never know?
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