That's how my mother described getting ready for New Year's Eve. She got "all dolled up". What I remember most were her beautiful, long nails. Nail salons didn't exist, but the last thing my mother always did before going out "all dolled up" was paint her nails. Bright red.
My nails are not as beautiful as were hers, and I no longer wear red nail polish, but she painted on the red when she was giving, or going to, a party. That was the '50s. New Year's Eve was a big deal. I guess it still is in many circles, but not for me.
My parents, aunts, uncles and their friends always went somewhere, to someone's home, to ring in the new year. My cousins and I always went to my grandparents to watch TV, sleep on the floor and have our own little party with them. The next morning it was always the Rose Bowl and parade from California until our parents arrived to pick us up. I loved it. In later years, when I had moved away from home, my parents never failed to call me just after midnight to wish me a Happy New Year.
Tonight I am not "all dolled up". In fact, I am already in my pj's. I am not a fan of New Year's Eve, but am a fan of the "New Year's Day Levee" and tomorrow will be going to one.
To all my loved ones, Happy New Year!
Monday, December 31, 2012
Prime Minister Laurier on being a Canadian
Here is how our Prime Minister Sir Wilfred Laurier, Canada's seventh PM from 1896 to 1911 and first francophone holder of the office, described what it means to be a Canadian:.
"In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes
here in good faith becomes a Canadian and assimilates himself to us, he shall
be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to
discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin.
"But this is predicated upon the person's becoming in every facet a
Canadian, and nothing but a Canadian...
"There can be no divided allegiance here.
"Any man who says he is a Canadian, but something else also, isn't a
Canadian at all.
"We have room for but one flag, the Canadian flag...and we have room for
but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the Canadian people."
Wilfred Laurier 1907
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Whoa!
Just listened to a facinating documentary on CBC about Denmark's immigration regulations. They are strict. To be a Danish citizen you have to pass a language test at a very high level. If you don't after three years, you're out.
If you want to bring a foreign wife to Denmark, she also has to pass the language test. If she doesn't, she's out. If you want to bring a child over eight years old into Denmark, that child has to demonstrate an ability to speak Danish at a very high level. They actually evaluate children to see if they have a "language ear" to determine if they will be able to learn Danish at the required level. And everyone has to demonstrate a willingness to embrace the Danish culture.
Denmark's immigration policy is assimilation, not integration. "If you can't speak Danish, how can you be a Danish citizen?", said the immigration minister. Gee, he may have a point.
They are considering a ban on all muslim immigrants at this moment.
So, there you have it.
If you want to bring a foreign wife to Denmark, she also has to pass the language test. If she doesn't, she's out. If you want to bring a child over eight years old into Denmark, that child has to demonstrate an ability to speak Danish at a very high level. They actually evaluate children to see if they have a "language ear" to determine if they will be able to learn Danish at the required level. And everyone has to demonstrate a willingness to embrace the Danish culture.
Denmark's immigration policy is assimilation, not integration. "If you can't speak Danish, how can you be a Danish citizen?", said the immigration minister. Gee, he may have a point.
They are considering a ban on all muslim immigrants at this moment.
So, there you have it.
You bring them back to life
...by writing about them. Just listened to an interview on CBC with author and Pulitzer Prize nominee Francine du Plessix Gray about one of her books entitled "Them: a memoir of parents".
It hit home. When I write about my mother and father and when I honour their festal traditions...when I get out the crystal and the silver and the fine china and the linen napkins and when I give a dinner or a lunch or a tea, I bring them back to life. That's what we do when we emulate or write about our parents.
As I was polishing the silver and shining the crystal in preparation for B's birthday lunch, all I could think about was my mother. I understand her so much better, now that she is gone. All the condiments had to be set out in little dishes, accompanied by decorative silver spoons. The main course had to be laid out on a beautiful platter with a silver serving fork. The dessert had to be served in a crystal bowl with a silver spoon..........you name it, everything was done a certain way.
The rolls were always buttered, heated and placed in linen before being served; no butter-your-own-french-bread show for Lillian Griffith. In fact, I don't remember her ever serving french bread because it was too "french". She was Canadian English gentry to the core. All the beautiful things I inherited from her are a testament to that fact.
But there was a source of irritation in the Lord clan and it revolved around my grandmother's half-brother, George. My great-grandmother died young and left four children, one of whom was my grandmother, Lillian Lord. Her father, a well-to-do furniture maker and undertaker in Brockville, re-married and guess what? He had a second family and guess who changed the will and got all the money? I remember the whispers when Grandma's half-brother "George" visited from Toronto. My grandmother, mother and aunts would be upset because they knew they had to be "nice and polite" to George, but couldn't really warm up to it.
Nevertheless, the gentrified upbringing of my matriarchal clan never failed to dutifully kick in, resulting in lovely cocktail and dinner parties for George and his wife. Predictably, this failed to prompt George, a millionaire, to loosen the purse strings and share his windfall with his father's first family, but my grandmother and aunts didn't let him see the whites of their eyes.
Never let the side down.
It hit home. When I write about my mother and father and when I honour their festal traditions...when I get out the crystal and the silver and the fine china and the linen napkins and when I give a dinner or a lunch or a tea, I bring them back to life. That's what we do when we emulate or write about our parents.
As I was polishing the silver and shining the crystal in preparation for B's birthday lunch, all I could think about was my mother. I understand her so much better, now that she is gone. All the condiments had to be set out in little dishes, accompanied by decorative silver spoons. The main course had to be laid out on a beautiful platter with a silver serving fork. The dessert had to be served in a crystal bowl with a silver spoon..........you name it, everything was done a certain way.
The rolls were always buttered, heated and placed in linen before being served; no butter-your-own-french-bread show for Lillian Griffith. In fact, I don't remember her ever serving french bread because it was too "french". She was Canadian English gentry to the core. All the beautiful things I inherited from her are a testament to that fact.
But there was a source of irritation in the Lord clan and it revolved around my grandmother's half-brother, George. My great-grandmother died young and left four children, one of whom was my grandmother, Lillian Lord. Her father, a well-to-do furniture maker and undertaker in Brockville, re-married and guess what? He had a second family and guess who changed the will and got all the money? I remember the whispers when Grandma's half-brother "George" visited from Toronto. My grandmother, mother and aunts would be upset because they knew they had to be "nice and polite" to George, but couldn't really warm up to it.
Nevertheless, the gentrified upbringing of my matriarchal clan never failed to dutifully kick in, resulting in lovely cocktail and dinner parties for George and his wife. Predictably, this failed to prompt George, a millionaire, to loosen the purse strings and share his windfall with his father's first family, but my grandmother and aunts didn't let him see the whites of their eyes.
Never let the side down.
Friday, December 28, 2012
It's terrorism
That's what columnist Christie Blatchford calls Attawapiskat Chief Theresa Spence's hunger strike. Intimidation and terrorism, plain and simple. I completely agree. The woman who (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) "mismanaged" the more than $90 million handed over to her reserve since the Conservatives came to power in 2006 is now demanding a two-week meeting with Harper and Governor General Johnston. A two-week meeting! Is the woman crazy?! Why not demand The Queen come to Victoria Island and crawl into her teepee for a little smudging and drumming? That'll be next. Ludicrous.
Naturally, Justin Trudeau said of his meeting with her...."it was deeply moving". His father would be appalled. Not to be outdone, Mulcair has also written to Harper urging a meeting. Please. At least Patrick Brazeau, former head of the "Off-Reserve Natives" said Spence should be going through the "proper parliamentary process" rather than demanding a meeting with Harper.
I was not surprised to read that former Ontario Lieutenant Governor, James Bartleman, supports Spence and urges Harper to "show that he's a leader" by meeting with Spence. This from a guy who was at the top of the well-paid parliamentary-process heap. When Bartleman was the keynote speaker at a dinner of the Royal Commonwealth Society a few years ago, he spoke of neither The Queen (who was paying him handsomely) nor The Commonwealth. Instead he spent his 35 minutes complaining about his impoverished childhood, berating the residential schools and accusing Canada of unspeakable cruelty to natives.
I wanted to hide under the table. It was so inappropriate.
Some people never figure out on which side their bread is buttered.
Naturally, Justin Trudeau said of his meeting with her...."it was deeply moving". His father would be appalled. Not to be outdone, Mulcair has also written to Harper urging a meeting. Please. At least Patrick Brazeau, former head of the "Off-Reserve Natives" said Spence should be going through the "proper parliamentary process" rather than demanding a meeting with Harper.
I was not surprised to read that former Ontario Lieutenant Governor, James Bartleman, supports Spence and urges Harper to "show that he's a leader" by meeting with Spence. This from a guy who was at the top of the well-paid parliamentary-process heap. When Bartleman was the keynote speaker at a dinner of the Royal Commonwealth Society a few years ago, he spoke of neither The Queen (who was paying him handsomely) nor The Commonwealth. Instead he spent his 35 minutes complaining about his impoverished childhood, berating the residential schools and accusing Canada of unspeakable cruelty to natives.
I wanted to hide under the table. It was so inappropriate.
Some people never figure out on which side their bread is buttered.
Drunks jumping the queue
Sitting in the emergency waiting room in Cochrane with my daughter and a very sick gandson, I witnessed a sad, but nevertheless annoying, scene. A young RCMP constable walked in with a drunken woman who'd been badly beaten up. Naturally, she jumps to the head of the queue while the rest of the civilized bunch have to step back a spot.
Eavesdroppiing on her weeping and wailing to the triage nurse (you couldn't avoid the bloody drama), I heard her say "...and then he punched me here and then I fell against the table and hurt my ribs. I can' breathe! And then he tried to stab me.........." It was indeed a sordid tale the young native woman told. I had no sympathy, anxious as I was to have Reed seen and treated.
Wouldn't have had any sympathy anyway because the whole tawdry and degenerate mess was self-inflicted. Hey, you don't have to live like that. There are treatment programs everywhere if a sufferer wants to get better.
When we were finally called into an examination room, naturally our wounded victim was in the next bed. More weeping and wailing as she was attended to by two doctors, three nurses and an X-ray technician. "Come on hon, you're doing fine, I just need to get a look at what's going on inside your chest," the technician said, trying and soothe the drunk into cooperating.
It was so ignoble and nasty. To add to the publically-funded congregation, another RCMP constable arrived........why I have no idea?
Your tax dollars at work. Pathetic.
Eavesdroppiing on her weeping and wailing to the triage nurse (you couldn't avoid the bloody drama), I heard her say "...and then he punched me here and then I fell against the table and hurt my ribs. I can' breathe! And then he tried to stab me.........." It was indeed a sordid tale the young native woman told. I had no sympathy, anxious as I was to have Reed seen and treated.
Wouldn't have had any sympathy anyway because the whole tawdry and degenerate mess was self-inflicted. Hey, you don't have to live like that. There are treatment programs everywhere if a sufferer wants to get better.
When we were finally called into an examination room, naturally our wounded victim was in the next bed. More weeping and wailing as she was attended to by two doctors, three nurses and an X-ray technician. "Come on hon, you're doing fine, I just need to get a look at what's going on inside your chest," the technician said, trying and soothe the drunk into cooperating.
It was so ignoble and nasty. To add to the publically-funded congregation, another RCMP constable arrived........why I have no idea?
Your tax dollars at work. Pathetic.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
So "Canadian"
How can you really top "The Canadian Railroad Trilogy" and "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"? You can't. B, for some reason (?) put on an old Gordon Lightfoot CD and I once again realized why I loved the guy -- Lightfoot, that is.
So Canadian. I remember watching Lightfoot a hundred years ago on Oscar Brandt's 'Let's Sing Out' in the '60s. Anyone with me here? I thought Oscar Brandt was long-dead, but low and behold, the guy is still hosting a radio program out of New York at 92!
"Brandt has been hosting the radio show Oscar Brandt's Folksong Festival every Saturday at 10 p.m. on WNYC-AM 820 in New York City, now going into its 66th year. The show has run more or less continuously since its debut on December 10, 1945, making it the longest-running radio show with the same host, according to the Guinness Book of World Records. The show celebrated its 60th anniversary on December 10, 2005. Over its run it has introduced such talents to the world as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Woody Guthrie, Arlo Guthrie, Huddie Ledbetter, Joni Mitchell, Peter, Paul & Mary, Judy Collins, Kingston Trio, Pete Seeger and The Weavers. In order to make sure that his radio program could not be censored he has refused to be paid by WNYC for the past 65 years."
That's what Wikipedia says. But back to Lightfoot. He is so talented. We have seen him live several times and I am glad I saw him when we did; he is getting on and it shows.
Who else is "Canadian"? Blue Rodeo, Bruce Cockburn and Ian and Sylvia. We used to visit Texan friends every year for a week in The Gatineau's and I bought our hostess Bruce, Gordon and Ian & Sylvia CDs. Apparently, she hated them all.
Just too "Canadian".
So Canadian. I remember watching Lightfoot a hundred years ago on Oscar Brandt's 'Let's Sing Out' in the '60s. Anyone with me here? I thought Oscar Brandt was long-dead, but low and behold, the guy is still hosting a radio program out of New York at 92!
"Brandt has been hosting the radio show Oscar Brandt's Folksong Festival every Saturday at 10 p.m. on WNYC-AM 820 in New York City, now going into its 66th year. The show has run more or less continuously since its debut on December 10, 1945, making it the longest-running radio show with the same host, according to the Guinness Book of World Records. The show celebrated its 60th anniversary on December 10, 2005. Over its run it has introduced such talents to the world as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Woody Guthrie, Arlo Guthrie, Huddie Ledbetter, Joni Mitchell, Peter, Paul & Mary, Judy Collins, Kingston Trio, Pete Seeger and The Weavers. In order to make sure that his radio program could not be censored he has refused to be paid by WNYC for the past 65 years."
That's what Wikipedia says. But back to Lightfoot. He is so talented. We have seen him live several times and I am glad I saw him when we did; he is getting on and it shows.
Who else is "Canadian"? Blue Rodeo, Bruce Cockburn and Ian and Sylvia. We used to visit Texan friends every year for a week in The Gatineau's and I bought our hostess Bruce, Gordon and Ian & Sylvia CDs. Apparently, she hated them all.
Just too "Canadian".
The turkey wrestle
Today was the day to wrestle with the turkey -- the day after when you have to pull it apart, remove the meat and divvy it into packets with dressing for more dinners or sandwiches. Then it's time to boil the carcass for turkey soup. I almost cry when I watch Texan son-in-law throw out the carcass after he cooks the turkey. My protestant upbringing screams, "terrible waste". Step one finished. What a mess.
When our dog was still with us, turkey-wrestling day was his favourite. He would stand beside me in the kitchen and wait patiently for me to throw him bits of grizzle and scraps of meat. Those were the days Charlie and I bonded bigtime. Still miss that dog terribly, gone this summer eight years.
Then I chide myself for bitching about dealing with excellent food. I was even complaining about the task with a pool friend this morning, as some of us got back into our routines. As expected, the lanes were packed with people I've never seen before -- people lugging themselves into the Y full of post-Christmas resolutions, which I read last about six weeks until the newcomers get bored and gradually drop off.
Years past, Boxing Day was always another big family gathering because it is son Scott's birthday. This year it's a biggie, his 40th. How did that happen?! I always prepared "fake fettucine", as my lower-fat recipt was known, along with caesar salad. That's what he wanted every birthday, so I made it. Sadly, this is the second year in a row we haven't seen him for Christmas or his birthday; his fiance runs the holiday schedules, as do all women, me included. I laugh when I look back and remember how he swore that would "never happen". "I'll be setting my own agenda," he avowed at our last dinner with him before we moved out here. Yeah right.
Well, back to the turkey soup.
When our dog was still with us, turkey-wrestling day was his favourite. He would stand beside me in the kitchen and wait patiently for me to throw him bits of grizzle and scraps of meat. Those were the days Charlie and I bonded bigtime. Still miss that dog terribly, gone this summer eight years.
Then I chide myself for bitching about dealing with excellent food. I was even complaining about the task with a pool friend this morning, as some of us got back into our routines. As expected, the lanes were packed with people I've never seen before -- people lugging themselves into the Y full of post-Christmas resolutions, which I read last about six weeks until the newcomers get bored and gradually drop off.
Years past, Boxing Day was always another big family gathering because it is son Scott's birthday. This year it's a biggie, his 40th. How did that happen?! I always prepared "fake fettucine", as my lower-fat recipt was known, along with caesar salad. That's what he wanted every birthday, so I made it. Sadly, this is the second year in a row we haven't seen him for Christmas or his birthday; his fiance runs the holiday schedules, as do all women, me included. I laugh when I look back and remember how he swore that would "never happen". "I'll be setting my own agenda," he avowed at our last dinner with him before we moved out here. Yeah right.
Well, back to the turkey soup.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas may be catching on
After The Herald published my letter yesterday, Christians are coming out of the woodwork. Not necessarily because of my letter, but they are speaking to me about the letter and how much they appreciated it. Can't find it on-line, but here it is:
The lifeguards have posted it in their office, how nice. A couple I swim with gave me the 'thumbs up' this morning and another young woman spoke to me about her church and what they are doing Christmas Eve. On the way out, K, who works behind the front desk, beckoned me over and talked about my letter. "Great job," she said. "I didn't know you were so involved, but I love your button (the one that reads "Jesus is the Reason for the Season")."
How sad that at Christmas-time, Christians have to skulk around discovering each other in the underground. We all need to advocate whenever we can. Speak up!
"Dear Editor,
Wishing a young lifeguard Merry Christmas at the pool where I swim, I was
unfortunately not surprised he said he had been told he could not write “Merry
Christmas” on his final paper. Last time I checked, calendars denote December
25th as “Christmas Day”. Nonetheless, it is heartening that not all who
celebrate Christmas have been disenfranchised. Transit operators, for example,
have the discretion of putting the greeting on the front of their buses. How
cheering.
"Here’s another good idea: every year, we receive a real “Christmas” card
from a Jewish doctor friend because he knows we celebrate the feast. I am sure
he also sends “Happy Hanukkah” greetings to his Jewish friends. What a positive
and inclusive gesture. No “Happy Holidays” required."
Yours sincerely........................ moi
The lifeguards have posted it in their office, how nice. A couple I swim with gave me the 'thumbs up' this morning and another young woman spoke to me about her church and what they are doing Christmas Eve. On the way out, K, who works behind the front desk, beckoned me over and talked about my letter. "Great job," she said. "I didn't know you were so involved, but I love your button (the one that reads "Jesus is the Reason for the Season")."
How sad that at Christmas-time, Christians have to skulk around discovering each other in the underground. We all need to advocate whenever we can. Speak up!
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Lillian was right
Blogging, as I like to do about "utility birds" -- those second-class, poor-cousin, country-mouse turkeys -- a tad mutilated, a wing missing, a patch of skin ripped off, a leg mangled -- it hit home today.
Grabbing a few forgotten items at the Co-Op this morning after my swim, I stopped to peruse the turkey bins. $75.00 and up for a perfect, fresh turkey. I paid $20 for mine. Saved $55. And, believe me, it will taste exactly the same.
Thank you, mother.
Grabbing a few forgotten items at the Co-Op this morning after my swim, I stopped to peruse the turkey bins. $75.00 and up for a perfect, fresh turkey. I paid $20 for mine. Saved $55. And, believe me, it will taste exactly the same.
Thank you, mother.
The dreaded Christmas newsletter
I am not alone in loathing the newsletters people think others are desperately awaiting every Christmas. Read a hilarious piece by Oliver Pritchett from The London Telegraph, obviously a kindred spirit.
"December is the month when we indulge in the great winter sport of mocking the holiday newsletter, that annual outpouring of boasts, banality and bathos," writes Pritchett. "These dispatches, often from distant relations or long-dropped friends, are the source of great mirth," he notes. Indeed they are.
Every year we receive one such ghastly gem from a couple who come and go in our lives and who we see maybe once every couple of years. Filled with minutiae of every conceivable and boring variety, neither B nor I have ever been mentioned -- in spite of the fact that some years they have visited and we have dined out. One year they even spent a weekend with us at The Gatineau Fish & Game Club; didn't rate a line.
Here are a few exerpts from this year's tome............hold on fast your festive hats..............
"In late January, M took me to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see 'Written on the Heart', a play commissioned by the Royal Shakespeare Company to mark the 400th anniversary of the publication of the King James Bible in 1611, of which one of the editors, appointed by King James I, was my great uncle four centuries removed, Bishop Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626)."
Imagine!
Then it was on to Calgary...."Drove to Brooks (later infamous for a meat plant E-coli outbreak) for M to speak in a legion hall, then to Drumheller overnight with K and P on the edge of a coulee where our first-ever mountain bluebird sat dazzlingly outside our window and deer grazed at dawn."
Wow! (Note: this is when we saw them for dinner, but aren't mentioned. Guess a dirty gastro-intestinal disease is more noteworthy.)
"Then we visited a house Halle Berry had for sale on Lake Molson in the Laurentians. Later M and I drove to Ottawa and saw the Van Gogh "Up Close" show at the National Gallery. Wonderful!"
What a topper!
"We welcomed former neighbor (sic), osteopath AM and her sons J (7) and M (5) from Strasbourg for a couple of weeks so they could practise English (and help hunt Japanese rose beetles infesting our beautiful roses)."
The nerve!
"We had nights up north on Lake Muskoka on Lake of Bays and marvelled at a friend's 'Animals in Art' collection at the Dufferin County Museum on our way down....I was thrilled to be (have been, sic) able to bring pumpkin pudding to niece A's condo and listen as she recovered from her flight from Kathmandu and her climb to Everest base camp."
Hard to beat!
"Sad news that my cousin, MB, had been in intensive care in Scarborough for a month after reacting badly to experimental chemotherapy. Then M had surgery on his forehead to remove an apparently benign but ugly third-growth keratoacanthoma. The biopsy later showed squamous carcinoma cells."
Lovely.
"While we were away, Super Storm Sandy caused a cedar tree next door to collapse into our swimming pool and carry some soil with it."
How tragic! Here's the finale................
"A phrase comes to mind as I (a)waken (sic) -- "Sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing", John Keats. Oh, read the first 33 lines!"
Breathtaking!
You. Could. Not. Make. This. Up. And the woman is serious!!! One year I told B I intended to send one back:
"This Spring, when the snow cleared, I picked up 210 dog droppings from the back deck," it would have read. "Then it was on to the laundry room, where more sh-t awaited dealing with. In January I had a cold, got a little tipsy one long and boring night in February and was constipated by April. Had a hysterectomy in May and a bladder infection ensued................"
B overuled it.
(Note: B has known this couple since way "before moi". Obviously. I try to be tolerant, but fail. The author has my blog address, but I doubt reads it. If she does, perhaps we will be spared the next. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the blog material it has supplied. As Pritchett concludes:
"They give us a few moments of harmless fun and December would be greyer without them.")
"December is the month when we indulge in the great winter sport of mocking the holiday newsletter, that annual outpouring of boasts, banality and bathos," writes Pritchett. "These dispatches, often from distant relations or long-dropped friends, are the source of great mirth," he notes. Indeed they are.
Every year we receive one such ghastly gem from a couple who come and go in our lives and who we see maybe once every couple of years. Filled with minutiae of every conceivable and boring variety, neither B nor I have ever been mentioned -- in spite of the fact that some years they have visited and we have dined out. One year they even spent a weekend with us at The Gatineau Fish & Game Club; didn't rate a line.
Here are a few exerpts from this year's tome............hold on fast your festive hats..............
"In late January, M took me to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see 'Written on the Heart', a play commissioned by the Royal Shakespeare Company to mark the 400th anniversary of the publication of the King James Bible in 1611, of which one of the editors, appointed by King James I, was my great uncle four centuries removed, Bishop Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626)."
Imagine!
Then it was on to Calgary...."Drove to Brooks (later infamous for a meat plant E-coli outbreak) for M to speak in a legion hall, then to Drumheller overnight with K and P on the edge of a coulee where our first-ever mountain bluebird sat dazzlingly outside our window and deer grazed at dawn."
Wow! (Note: this is when we saw them for dinner, but aren't mentioned. Guess a dirty gastro-intestinal disease is more noteworthy.)
"Then we visited a house Halle Berry had for sale on Lake Molson in the Laurentians. Later M and I drove to Ottawa and saw the Van Gogh "Up Close" show at the National Gallery. Wonderful!"
What a topper!
"We welcomed former neighbor (sic), osteopath AM and her sons J (7) and M (5) from Strasbourg for a couple of weeks so they could practise English (and help hunt Japanese rose beetles infesting our beautiful roses)."
The nerve!
"We had nights up north on Lake Muskoka on Lake of Bays and marvelled at a friend's 'Animals in Art' collection at the Dufferin County Museum on our way down....I was thrilled to be (have been, sic) able to bring pumpkin pudding to niece A's condo and listen as she recovered from her flight from Kathmandu and her climb to Everest base camp."
Hard to beat!
"Sad news that my cousin, MB, had been in intensive care in Scarborough for a month after reacting badly to experimental chemotherapy. Then M had surgery on his forehead to remove an apparently benign but ugly third-growth keratoacanthoma. The biopsy later showed squamous carcinoma cells."
Lovely.
"While we were away, Super Storm Sandy caused a cedar tree next door to collapse into our swimming pool and carry some soil with it."
How tragic! Here's the finale................
"A phrase comes to mind as I (a)waken (sic) -- "Sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing", John Keats. Oh, read the first 33 lines!"
Breathtaking!
You. Could. Not. Make. This. Up. And the woman is serious!!! One year I told B I intended to send one back:
"This Spring, when the snow cleared, I picked up 210 dog droppings from the back deck," it would have read. "Then it was on to the laundry room, where more sh-t awaited dealing with. In January I had a cold, got a little tipsy one long and boring night in February and was constipated by April. Had a hysterectomy in May and a bladder infection ensued................"
B overuled it.
(Note: B has known this couple since way "before moi". Obviously. I try to be tolerant, but fail. The author has my blog address, but I doubt reads it. If she does, perhaps we will be spared the next. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the blog material it has supplied. As Pritchett concludes:
"They give us a few moments of harmless fun and December would be greyer without them.")
Friday, December 21, 2012
The hypocrisy of it all
Susan Martinuk nails it in The Calgary Herald today. "Aboriginals' biggest problem is their leaders". That's the title of her column, which focusses mainly on Theresa Spence's hunger strike. Spence is chief of the Attawapiskat First Nation in northern Ontario -- you know, the tribe where all the children were sniffing glue and an intervention was staged on intertnational television? Yeah, that's the one.
"Spence says she wants to talk about treaty rights and is willing to die for her people," writes Martinuk. "She may be willing to die for her people, but the paperwork shows she is not willing to sacrifice her hefty paycheque for their benefit," the column continues.
Spence gives herself $69, 575 per year; the band manager collects $74,806; and the acting band manager claimed $68,397 in travel expenses, the latter over two years. "All of this while the other 2,800 residents were living in abject poverty, huddled in shacks without heat or running water," Martinuk points out.
I have blogged about this sham many times: The leaders of Canada's native peoples are their own worst enemies. Forensic audits showed that Spence's council had not produced a budget in years and had maxed out a $2.5 million line-of-credit, paying only 10 percent interest on the loan. "Too much money was being spent on administration instead of programs," concluded the auditors.
"You can see why Spence has some credibility issues. A $70,000 income may be justified when the band is flourishing, but it becomes outrageous when the median household income for families on reserve is $11,229. It's not Harper and the federal government who are denying the natives; it's the native leaders who are denying their own people the opportunity for education, housing, health care and employment -- through greed."
I could not agree more.
"For most natives, the only way out is some kind of connection with the outside world. They cannot flouish if isolated on a reserve where there are no economic prospects or work. For too long, aboriginals have been fed a myth -- by their leaders -- that any assimilation into the white man's world will forever destroy a distinct (sic) native culture. But the Jews have kept a vibrant culture alive for over (sic) 5,000 years without a homeland and while dispersed around the world. Surely aboriginals can maintain a high degree of cultural significance in a country renowned for its respect for multiculturalism.
"It's time for natives to join in with the rest of Canadians in a productive economy and a functional society. Frankly, it's the only way out of poverty and despair."
When you see hand-wringing coverage of hunger strikes, road blockades and canoe trips to the UN, don't buy any of it. All I can say is thank G-d my Mohawk great-grandmother moved off the Tyendinaga Reserve and married a white man.
"Spence says she wants to talk about treaty rights and is willing to die for her people," writes Martinuk. "She may be willing to die for her people, but the paperwork shows she is not willing to sacrifice her hefty paycheque for their benefit," the column continues.
Spence gives herself $69, 575 per year; the band manager collects $74,806; and the acting band manager claimed $68,397 in travel expenses, the latter over two years. "All of this while the other 2,800 residents were living in abject poverty, huddled in shacks without heat or running water," Martinuk points out.
I have blogged about this sham many times: The leaders of Canada's native peoples are their own worst enemies. Forensic audits showed that Spence's council had not produced a budget in years and had maxed out a $2.5 million line-of-credit, paying only 10 percent interest on the loan. "Too much money was being spent on administration instead of programs," concluded the auditors.
"You can see why Spence has some credibility issues. A $70,000 income may be justified when the band is flourishing, but it becomes outrageous when the median household income for families on reserve is $11,229. It's not Harper and the federal government who are denying the natives; it's the native leaders who are denying their own people the opportunity for education, housing, health care and employment -- through greed."
I could not agree more.
"For most natives, the only way out is some kind of connection with the outside world. They cannot flouish if isolated on a reserve where there are no economic prospects or work. For too long, aboriginals have been fed a myth -- by their leaders -- that any assimilation into the white man's world will forever destroy a distinct (sic) native culture. But the Jews have kept a vibrant culture alive for over (sic) 5,000 years without a homeland and while dispersed around the world. Surely aboriginals can maintain a high degree of cultural significance in a country renowned for its respect for multiculturalism.
"It's time for natives to join in with the rest of Canadians in a productive economy and a functional society. Frankly, it's the only way out of poverty and despair."
When you see hand-wringing coverage of hunger strikes, road blockades and canoe trips to the UN, don't buy any of it. All I can say is thank G-d my Mohawk great-grandmother moved off the Tyendinaga Reserve and married a white man.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
On the Christmas Buses
Nearly drove off the road the other day when I saw a Calgary transit bus heading toward me with "Merry Christmas" on it's mast. Merry Christmas at Christmas! My G-d, have people lost their minds? The greeting alternated with the route name and number, but it was there in living colour. I was so cheered.
What have Canadians come to? How have we let other cultures and religions erase Christmas? How have we let it morph into "Happy Holidays"? How has "Xmas" replaced "Christmas"? The "X" actually represents the deletion of Christ; never use it. It's unconscionable.
A spokesman for Calgary transit had to point out to an offended reporter (please) that it is actually Christmas, that December 25th is actually marked as such on the calendar. "It's up to the operator whether or not he or she wants the vehicle to say "Merry Christmas". Isn't that wonderful! But it just could not go unchallenged. No, of course it couldn't. People are complaining. How mean-spirited, how Scrooge-like, how lump-of-coal-ish, how bah-humbug of them. How nasty it all is.
I'm absolutely sick of being disenfranchised for celebrating Christmas and Chirst's birthday on Christmas. Try for a split second to imagine telling other religions their feasts and holidays offend us as Christians. Try telling a muslim he can't use the word "Eid" in his festivities; try telling a Jew he can't use the word "Hanukkah"; try banning the word "Ramadan" when it is celebrated. You can't even feature it in your wildest dreams!
A Jewish doctor who has been a close friend of ours for years always sends us a Christmas Card, wishing us Merry Christmas. He knows we are Catholic and he sends us the appropriate card. I'll bet he also sends all his Jewish friends Hanukkah cards, not Happy Holiday ones.
That's the kind of class and mutual respect we need to insist upon. Merry Christmas!
What have Canadians come to? How have we let other cultures and religions erase Christmas? How have we let it morph into "Happy Holidays"? How has "Xmas" replaced "Christmas"? The "X" actually represents the deletion of Christ; never use it. It's unconscionable.
A spokesman for Calgary transit had to point out to an offended reporter (please) that it is actually Christmas, that December 25th is actually marked as such on the calendar. "It's up to the operator whether or not he or she wants the vehicle to say "Merry Christmas". Isn't that wonderful! But it just could not go unchallenged. No, of course it couldn't. People are complaining. How mean-spirited, how Scrooge-like, how lump-of-coal-ish, how bah-humbug of them. How nasty it all is.
I'm absolutely sick of being disenfranchised for celebrating Christmas and Chirst's birthday on Christmas. Try for a split second to imagine telling other religions their feasts and holidays offend us as Christians. Try telling a muslim he can't use the word "Eid" in his festivities; try telling a Jew he can't use the word "Hanukkah"; try banning the word "Ramadan" when it is celebrated. You can't even feature it in your wildest dreams!
A Jewish doctor who has been a close friend of ours for years always sends us a Christmas Card, wishing us Merry Christmas. He knows we are Catholic and he sends us the appropriate card. I'll bet he also sends all his Jewish friends Hanukkah cards, not Happy Holiday ones.
That's the kind of class and mutual respect we need to insist upon. Merry Christmas!
Funnily enough, it was a brunette
Surfed unfortunately into the Miss Universe Pageant underway last night in Las Vegas (where else?) I tuned in at the round of 16 and was shocked to see that of those still beaming in hope, 12 were brunettes. When do you ever see that? Heck, why not watch for a while?
Tune into any "Housewives" reality (sic) show and they're all bottle blondes (BBs), pretty much without exception. Look at any hockey, football or basketball star's wife and she's a BB. Most famous movie stars are now blondes -- unlike the 40's, 50's and 60's, when you had smashing brunettes like Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Jane Russell and The Hepburn's, Kathryn and Audrey. But these days, as I have blogged before, every woman who wants to be famous, or noticed, dyes her hair blonde.
Thinking about why so many Miss-Universe-wannabe's were brunettes, I realized that they were representing "brunette" countries -- such as the Phillippines, Africa, South America and Asia, for example. So, that explained it.
Except for the winner, Miss USA, who turned out to be a brunette. Whaaaaat??!! How did that happen? Frankly, I thought many of the others were far more gorgeous, but when I spotted The Donald in the front row and learned that a Miss USA hadn't won since 1997, I got it.
Ah politics, it's everywhere.
Tune into any "Housewives" reality (sic) show and they're all bottle blondes (BBs), pretty much without exception. Look at any hockey, football or basketball star's wife and she's a BB. Most famous movie stars are now blondes -- unlike the 40's, 50's and 60's, when you had smashing brunettes like Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Jane Russell and The Hepburn's, Kathryn and Audrey. But these days, as I have blogged before, every woman who wants to be famous, or noticed, dyes her hair blonde.
Thinking about why so many Miss-Universe-wannabe's were brunettes, I realized that they were representing "brunette" countries -- such as the Phillippines, Africa, South America and Asia, for example. So, that explained it.
Except for the winner, Miss USA, who turned out to be a brunette. Whaaaaat??!! How did that happen? Frankly, I thought many of the others were far more gorgeous, but when I spotted The Donald in the front row and learned that a Miss USA hadn't won since 1997, I got it.
Ah politics, it's everywhere.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
If I see one more butt, I'll crack!
That was the title of the GQ article I was reading this morning, waiting to get my hair cut. Hilarious! The guy was writing anguished lamentations about the new low-rise, skinny jeans men who shouldn't be wearing them are wearing.
"Please man, no, don't do it," he wrote about the guy with the bagged hand about to bend down to scoop poop. "I can't bear to have to look at your hairy pooper while you are down there!"
Have to say, I agree. Why would anyone think this part of the anatomy, or a sneak peak at a muffin-top, is attractive? It just is not. But the worst are those hideous, Justin-Beiber baggy jeans! The underwear is completely exposed at all times and the crotch droops to somewhere in the vicinity of the ankle. It's a completely dreadful and unsightly look.
An aside: the woman who cut my hair actually remembered the book I was reading when she cut my hair six months ago! "And aren't you the woman I razored?" she added. How she remembered is beyond me? Reminded me of the grocery clerk in Kona, who remembered my phone number three days after I first gave it him. Savants.
(Note to Dan: Have to confess I still go to 'First Choice' -- despite your warnings. Checked out the beauty schools you recommended and they are all right downtown -- too long a drive from where we live. I never seem to have two hours to get my hair cut, which is what it would require. And there is absolutely no parking anywhere down there. I sincerely apologize!)
"Please man, no, don't do it," he wrote about the guy with the bagged hand about to bend down to scoop poop. "I can't bear to have to look at your hairy pooper while you are down there!"
Have to say, I agree. Why would anyone think this part of the anatomy, or a sneak peak at a muffin-top, is attractive? It just is not. But the worst are those hideous, Justin-Beiber baggy jeans! The underwear is completely exposed at all times and the crotch droops to somewhere in the vicinity of the ankle. It's a completely dreadful and unsightly look.
An aside: the woman who cut my hair actually remembered the book I was reading when she cut my hair six months ago! "And aren't you the woman I razored?" she added. How she remembered is beyond me? Reminded me of the grocery clerk in Kona, who remembered my phone number three days after I first gave it him. Savants.
(Note to Dan: Have to confess I still go to 'First Choice' -- despite your warnings. Checked out the beauty schools you recommended and they are all right downtown -- too long a drive from where we live. I never seem to have two hours to get my hair cut, which is what it would require. And there is absolutely no parking anywhere down there. I sincerely apologize!)
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
No wonder they're fat
I mean they're six and in strollers! Took Reed to Market Mall to celebrate his birthday (which is actually today) and meet Santa and they were everywhere. School-age children in strollers. As one overgrown toddler was munching on something-or-other from a wrapper, his mother said, "Are you hungry honey? Let's get you something to eat." The kid was already fat and eating.
Sad.
But Reed had a ball eating turkey, ham, sweet potatoes and mushroom soup for lunch. He also tucked into Grandpa's ice cream and chocolate sauce. Mmmmm! Then it was off to meet Santa and get his picture taken. Who is this guy, was the look on Reed's face when he sat on Santa's knee. Could not get a smile out of him........until I picked him up when it was over. Then he beamed. Oh well, next year he'll be a tad more clued in.
Now..........if I could just figure out how to deal with that do-hickey the photographer gave me of the pictures for our computer...............Oh, here we go...........
Sad.
But Reed had a ball eating turkey, ham, sweet potatoes and mushroom soup for lunch. He also tucked into Grandpa's ice cream and chocolate sauce. Mmmmm! Then it was off to meet Santa and get his picture taken. Who is this guy, was the look on Reed's face when he sat on Santa's knee. Could not get a smile out of him........until I picked him up when it was over. Then he beamed. Oh well, next year he'll be a tad more clued in.
Now..........if I could just figure out how to deal with that do-hickey the photographer gave me of the pictures for our computer...............Oh, here we go...........
 |
| Where am I? Who's this guy? |
Monday, December 17, 2012
Lest we get too self-righteous.....
I remember Ottawa, 1975, when St. Pius X High School was the
scene of one of Canada's first random massacres. The gunman was an 18-year-old whacko who opened fire on his classmates with a 12-gauge shotgun. He killed one student and wounded five before killing himself.
Before the melee, the guy had raped and stabbed a 17-year-old school-mate he had lured to his home over the lunch hour; I worked with her father at CMHC. What I remember most hideously is that his mother was home at the time....while he was raping and killing her....making lunch! The boy had come from a military family and had military aspirations, thwarted by his physical condition and psychological immaturity. Rejected from the officer training program to which he had applied, rage ensued.
Obsessed with sex and pornography, he had written about wanting to have sex before he died and had been suicidal for three years prior to his attack. And all this was eons before the internet, where now pornography and violence and just a few key stokes away. Just imagine how many are out there now surfing, getting enraged and plotting revenge.
It is so frightening.
Before the melee, the guy had raped and stabbed a 17-year-old school-mate he had lured to his home over the lunch hour; I worked with her father at CMHC. What I remember most hideously is that his mother was home at the time....while he was raping and killing her....making lunch! The boy had come from a military family and had military aspirations, thwarted by his physical condition and psychological immaturity. Rejected from the officer training program to which he had applied, rage ensued.
Obsessed with sex and pornography, he had written about wanting to have sex before he died and had been suicidal for three years prior to his attack. And all this was eons before the internet, where now pornography and violence and just a few key stokes away. Just imagine how many are out there now surfing, getting enraged and plotting revenge.
It is so frightening.
What's next?!
Alberta's doctors are now going to use the charter to get more money. Please. "But it's not about money," said the president of the Alberta Medical Association. Please....again. Of course it's about money. It always is.
They have hired a high-priced Toronto lawyer to twist and spin their beef with the province into a charter issue. How they will present that fiction will be a great side show.
The biggest mistake Trudeau made was the charter. Oh, that and the economy. The charter allows anyone and everyone to mount a court case on anything and everything because their "rights" or "freedoms" are being trampled. The good of society as a whole? Forget that.
Doctors here say they "are only asking for one percent above inflation". Doctors already have most of their tuition subsidised by taxpayers and make a ton of money regardless of their competence. You know what they call the guy who graduated last in his class in medical school? Doctor. Seriously, why should they get one percent above inflation?
And nevermind the fact that after they obtain their paid-for degrees, many of them high-tail it to the US. It's unconscionable.
They have hired a high-priced Toronto lawyer to twist and spin their beef with the province into a charter issue. How they will present that fiction will be a great side show.
The biggest mistake Trudeau made was the charter. Oh, that and the economy. The charter allows anyone and everyone to mount a court case on anything and everything because their "rights" or "freedoms" are being trampled. The good of society as a whole? Forget that.
Doctors here say they "are only asking for one percent above inflation". Doctors already have most of their tuition subsidised by taxpayers and make a ton of money regardless of their competence. You know what they call the guy who graduated last in his class in medical school? Doctor. Seriously, why should they get one percent above inflation?
And nevermind the fact that after they obtain their paid-for degrees, many of them high-tail it to the US. It's unconscionable.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
It's really the Canadian ethics' commissioner
Revenue Canada (or the Canada Revenue Agency, as it is now called) is the conscience of the country. When I worked there -- by the way, it was a privilege -- we were the money police, the custodians of the public purse and the ethics' commissioners for all those Canadians who didn't get it...didn't get how a country runs.
It runs on taxes.
This hit me again the other night when I was having a dinner-table conversation with an economics' professor. He actually said we didn't necessarily need taxes, that Canada could just operate on royalties. Huh!!??!! Not wishing to be rude, as we were sitting around my dining table, I didn't push it....well, OK, couldn't help myself, did push it a little...but how the h-ll would that work? Would the royalties be on goods such as oil and trees? And what about all the Canadians who don't buy oil and trees? Why would they not have to pay their fair share to live in this magnificent country?
Well, this was all too complicated and convuluted an econometric theory for my pea brain to grasp, which is precisely the problem. You have to keep it simple and everyone has to pay. Period. The end. The phrase "bone-headed intellectual" formulated in my mind as I listened to him. The lecture he delivered gratis many innocent university students pay good money for. Sad. But I digress.
Jason Kenney has just introduced a new bill naming 27 new countries as "safe". In other words countries from which, by definition, one cannot be a refugee. That's because they are free democracies and thus cannot be persecuting people. I mean, how can one be a refugee from Austria?! That country is now on the list, along with Denmark, France, Sweden and a host of other peaceful nations. The reason he has introduced the bill is because he is targeting specific cultural groups who claim bogus refugee status and then don't even bother to show up for their hearing. They disappear into the kindly and naive Canadian woodwork.
I mention this because when Canada admits immigrants and refugees, it admits their cultural values. Unfortunately, many of these cultural values clash with traditional Canadian tenets.......like paying your taxes.
Thank G-d for Revenue Canada and the enforcement and diligence it applies. As I have said before, never participate in the underground economy. It simply isn't "Canadian".
p.s. This is another for my buddies Elayne, Faye, Phil and the rest of the gang in the retired CRA group.
It runs on taxes.
This hit me again the other night when I was having a dinner-table conversation with an economics' professor. He actually said we didn't necessarily need taxes, that Canada could just operate on royalties. Huh!!??!! Not wishing to be rude, as we were sitting around my dining table, I didn't push it....well, OK, couldn't help myself, did push it a little...but how the h-ll would that work? Would the royalties be on goods such as oil and trees? And what about all the Canadians who don't buy oil and trees? Why would they not have to pay their fair share to live in this magnificent country?
Well, this was all too complicated and convuluted an econometric theory for my pea brain to grasp, which is precisely the problem. You have to keep it simple and everyone has to pay. Period. The end. The phrase "bone-headed intellectual" formulated in my mind as I listened to him. The lecture he delivered gratis many innocent university students pay good money for. Sad. But I digress.
Jason Kenney has just introduced a new bill naming 27 new countries as "safe". In other words countries from which, by definition, one cannot be a refugee. That's because they are free democracies and thus cannot be persecuting people. I mean, how can one be a refugee from Austria?! That country is now on the list, along with Denmark, France, Sweden and a host of other peaceful nations. The reason he has introduced the bill is because he is targeting specific cultural groups who claim bogus refugee status and then don't even bother to show up for their hearing. They disappear into the kindly and naive Canadian woodwork.
I mention this because when Canada admits immigrants and refugees, it admits their cultural values. Unfortunately, many of these cultural values clash with traditional Canadian tenets.......like paying your taxes.
Thank G-d for Revenue Canada and the enforcement and diligence it applies. As I have said before, never participate in the underground economy. It simply isn't "Canadian".
p.s. This is another for my buddies Elayne, Faye, Phil and the rest of the gang in the retired CRA group.
Friday, December 14, 2012
The juxtaposition is breathtaking
Just watching "White Christmas" for the umpteenth time. The innocence of this movie contrasting with the coverage of the massacre in Connecticut is unbearable. What has happened to the US?
Will anything change? I doubt it. The gun lobby is the strongest of any in Washington. I mean, it's the second amendment to their constitution: the right to bear arms. It made sense in the "wild west", but it doesn't make any now. Their only hope is that Obama, knowing he cannot run again, will get serious about gun control. Will he? I doubt it.
Too much money at stake.
Will anything change? I doubt it. The gun lobby is the strongest of any in Washington. I mean, it's the second amendment to their constitution: the right to bear arms. It made sense in the "wild west", but it doesn't make any now. Their only hope is that Obama, knowing he cannot run again, will get serious about gun control. Will he? I doubt it.
Too much money at stake.
May have to cut it up
My library card. Why do I read this stuff?? Apparently, one of the biggest sources of bedbugs are library books. Oh, and luggage in airports. Once one bedbug gets into your home, you've had it. They've been found in libraries in Hamilton, Vancouver, Edmonton and Toronto, to name a few, and they're probably in Calgary branches too.
Staff are trained to look for the critters and if they suspect an item is carrying one of the insects, librarians put the item in a plastic bag, seal it and throw it out. Supervisors are notified and equipment and furniture are cleaned and treated. Wow!
As I said, I may have to cut up my card.
Staff are trained to look for the critters and if they suspect an item is carrying one of the insects, librarians put the item in a plastic bag, seal it and throw it out. Supervisors are notified and equipment and furniture are cleaned and treated. Wow!
As I said, I may have to cut up my card.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
TCM and mortality
Every time I watch an old movie on TCM I am accutely conscious of my mortality. It's very disconcerting to watch a young Barbara Stanwick and a young Fred MacMurray flitting away on the screen, only to google them and find out they died 20 or 30 years ago at 80 or so.
I then look in the mirror and it hits me. I am getting very old.
I then look in the mirror and it hits me. I am getting very old.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
My letter to the editor of The Calgary Herald
Premier Alison just doesn't get it...................
http://www.calgaryherald.com/news/Reigning+long/7680102/story.html
http://www.calgaryherald.com/news/Reigning+long/7680102/story.html
Monday, December 10, 2012
What price sovereignty?
Canada is purchasing new fighter jets. Finally. The talking heads and opposition are blathering on about how this will cost every Canadian $1,200. So what?! We have to have fighter jets to be a country. We have to be able to protect our sovereignty and that means fighter jets. We also have to have a naval fleet..........coming.
What would be a good price? $1,100 per citizen? $1,000? I mean, how can you quantify it? There was the ridiculous Thomas Mulcair going on about the expense on Don Martin's 'Power Play'.
Hey buddy, wise up.
What would be a good price? $1,100 per citizen? $1,000? I mean, how can you quantify it? There was the ridiculous Thomas Mulcair going on about the expense on Don Martin's 'Power Play'.
Hey buddy, wise up.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Not sexy anymore
Whatever happened to waterskiing? Just watching a replay of the Canadian championships and sex appeal has completely disappeared. With helmuts and wetsuits, forget the sex appeal.
Used to be that great waterskiiers were about the sexiest people around. I mean, you had to have a great body and a very cool bathing suit to get it done. Like my old friend John Booth. JR used to slide casually off the dock on one ski, never getting wet, then skiied around with his shoulder almost touching the water, arriving back and landing on the dock as if arriving for cocktails. Never got wet. Oh yeah, he also used to ski barefoot. Yep, the guy was as cool as cool was. Ever.
He was also generous. He taught me to waterski...........hours and hours of me trying to get up........hours and hours of John turning the boat around and getting me up again..........hours and hours of John teaching me how to ski on one ski.............the guy was incredible.
Waterskiing used to be about cool guys and gals with great bodies, flexing and showing off. I loved it. These guys in the wetsuits and helmuts just don't have it.
Used to be that great waterskiiers were about the sexiest people around. I mean, you had to have a great body and a very cool bathing suit to get it done. Like my old friend John Booth. JR used to slide casually off the dock on one ski, never getting wet, then skiied around with his shoulder almost touching the water, arriving back and landing on the dock as if arriving for cocktails. Never got wet. Oh yeah, he also used to ski barefoot. Yep, the guy was as cool as cool was. Ever.
He was also generous. He taught me to waterski...........hours and hours of me trying to get up........hours and hours of John turning the boat around and getting me up again..........hours and hours of John teaching me how to ski on one ski.............the guy was incredible.
Waterskiing used to be about cool guys and gals with great bodies, flexing and showing off. I loved it. These guys in the wetsuits and helmuts just don't have it.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
200 years later...........
Nothing's changed. The indians are still trying to storm the fort. Yesterday it was Fort Parliament Hill, when, in a demonstration of perfect and uncivilized non-democracy, a number of chiefs whooped it up and attempted to break down the doors of the House of Commons to express their displeasure at the passing of an omnibus bill which included (gasp!) a number of changes to The Indian Act.
There's no way to put this nicely: protestations to the contrary, the National Assembly of First Nations wants nothing to do with changing one letter of one word of the arcane Indian Act. And we all know why. Because it would mean the no-serious-strings-attached money wouldn't flow quite as freely into oblivion and waste as it does now.
The outraged chiefs argued all over the airwaves that there had not been enough "consultation" or "transparency" in the changes. Since when have the natives been voluntarily transparent about their finances? Since when have they consulted in good faith? Their big beef to this latest move is the strengthened financial transparency and accountability it demands. Oh dear, oh dear.
Never play chess with the patient and cunning Mr. Harper. As he was ushering native leaders into the House of Commons a couple of years ago -- complete with sweet grass and ceremonial dress, dancing and drumming -- to apologize for the residential schools' debacle, he was planning drastic changes to the deeply-flawed and out-of-date act. After waiting in the weeds and vainly trying to consult, Mr. Harper has sprung.
Not a minute too soon, in my opinion. Long overdue. Chiefs, get used to it.
There's no way to put this nicely: protestations to the contrary, the National Assembly of First Nations wants nothing to do with changing one letter of one word of the arcane Indian Act. And we all know why. Because it would mean the no-serious-strings-attached money wouldn't flow quite as freely into oblivion and waste as it does now.
The outraged chiefs argued all over the airwaves that there had not been enough "consultation" or "transparency" in the changes. Since when have the natives been voluntarily transparent about their finances? Since when have they consulted in good faith? Their big beef to this latest move is the strengthened financial transparency and accountability it demands. Oh dear, oh dear.
Never play chess with the patient and cunning Mr. Harper. As he was ushering native leaders into the House of Commons a couple of years ago -- complete with sweet grass and ceremonial dress, dancing and drumming -- to apologize for the residential schools' debacle, he was planning drastic changes to the deeply-flawed and out-of-date act. After waiting in the weeds and vainly trying to consult, Mr. Harper has sprung.
Not a minute too soon, in my opinion. Long overdue. Chiefs, get used to it.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Go fly a kite
So, the Quebec legislature has narrowly defeated a motion to ban the flying of the Canadian flag anywhere on the premises. The PQ accuses the opposition of being "anti-Quebec" and"pro-Canada". Geeze, last time I checked Quebec was still part of Canada and stealing bags of "equalization" money from the rest of us.
It's appalling. They have spent weeks on this debate, instead of trying to fix the broken province they are supposed to be governing. And it's not as if our flag were waving in the legislature itself. No, it's hidden away in the now defunct Red Chamber, which used to house the upper chamber.
The PQ are operating in a '60s time-warp twilight-zone. Separatism is deader than a doornail. Face it Pauline, you and your zombie friends need to get over yourselves. Crawl back into your graves and let Quebec at least get into the '70s.
It's appalling. They have spent weeks on this debate, instead of trying to fix the broken province they are supposed to be governing. And it's not as if our flag were waving in the legislature itself. No, it's hidden away in the now defunct Red Chamber, which used to house the upper chamber.
The PQ are operating in a '60s time-warp twilight-zone. Separatism is deader than a doornail. Face it Pauline, you and your zombie friends need to get over yourselves. Crawl back into your graves and let Quebec at least get into the '70s.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Pool friends
I have made a few "friends" at the pool. Not the kind one would call up and chat with in one's "real" life, but friends nonetheless within that sacred enclosure that is the women's locker room. Afterall, waltzing around start naked tends to engender a certain intimacy.
As Christmas approaches, nice things happen there. Walking in this morning, I was stopped by "K" who said, "Nancy, I made Christmas cookies with my Icelandic friend on the weekend and these are for you." With that she proceeded to hand over a beautiful collection of the most wonderful-looking creations. I was bowled over. Not that I will actually eat them -- I now evaluate everything I insert into my mouth against the rigid criteria of how-many-laps-is-that. But I popped them into the freezer 'cause someone will enjoy them very soon.
Then I bumped into "S" in the water -- the lovliest drug addict you will ever meet. She lives with a badly injured leg caused by years of lifting heavy patients as she toiled as a nurse. She now copes via vicodin, or some such other narcotic...."Otherwise I would have commited suicide long ago," says this vivacious grandmother. She was telling me I should definitely invest in a pair of jeans, now that I have lost 20 pounds. "You'd look great in jeans now," she said. "What are you, about 51 or so? Get some jeans." 51-or-so !%$%#^((*&^%^%*()^%^!!!! That made my week -- or maybe my year!
Changing, I chatted with "W". "We're having a party after Christmas, can I get your e-mail because we'd love to have you come."
So, that's life here in Calgary. Very rewarding!
As Christmas approaches, nice things happen there. Walking in this morning, I was stopped by "K" who said, "Nancy, I made Christmas cookies with my Icelandic friend on the weekend and these are for you." With that she proceeded to hand over a beautiful collection of the most wonderful-looking creations. I was bowled over. Not that I will actually eat them -- I now evaluate everything I insert into my mouth against the rigid criteria of how-many-laps-is-that. But I popped them into the freezer 'cause someone will enjoy them very soon.
Then I bumped into "S" in the water -- the lovliest drug addict you will ever meet. She lives with a badly injured leg caused by years of lifting heavy patients as she toiled as a nurse. She now copes via vicodin, or some such other narcotic...."Otherwise I would have commited suicide long ago," says this vivacious grandmother. She was telling me I should definitely invest in a pair of jeans, now that I have lost 20 pounds. "You'd look great in jeans now," she said. "What are you, about 51 or so? Get some jeans." 51-or-so !%$%#^((*&^%^%*()^%^!!!! That made my week -- or maybe my year!
Changing, I chatted with "W". "We're having a party after Christmas, can I get your e-mail because we'd love to have you come."
So, that's life here in Calgary. Very rewarding!
Sunday, December 2, 2012
What a great day
On this first Sunday in Advent, I say a prayer of thanks. Life is wonderful here in Calgary and I am enjoying being a hands-on grandma for Reed. He will turn one on December 18th and is adorable.
After Mass we went to an invitation party at a local men's wear shop here in Crowfoot. The food was fabulous....and so was the wine. I bought B's Christmas present -- a gorgeous new tweed jacket (or "coat" as they call it). We were helped by a charming young man who wore a beautiful suit, white shirt and snappy bow tie -- rare here, with everyone in jeans, jeans and more jeans, regardless of the occasion. I think if the Queen of England dropped in, jeans would still be the order of the day. As I have said, I am always overdressed in Calgary.
Came home and enjoyed the pair of quail-like prairie ground birds that visit my feeder every day. Today they stayed, burroughed into the snow and slept. Also had a few hares hopping around the feeder. We live next to an open, wild area, hence the coyotes and other wildlife with whom we share quarters.
It's very cold and snowing here, but who cares?! Put up the outside lights, decorated the mantle, put up the little two-foot tree that was my mother's in our bedroom, bought the pointsettias and set up the creche. The table and big tree will be next.
But the perfect gift was a great chat with my Toronto son. That topped it all off.
After Mass we went to an invitation party at a local men's wear shop here in Crowfoot. The food was fabulous....and so was the wine. I bought B's Christmas present -- a gorgeous new tweed jacket (or "coat" as they call it). We were helped by a charming young man who wore a beautiful suit, white shirt and snappy bow tie -- rare here, with everyone in jeans, jeans and more jeans, regardless of the occasion. I think if the Queen of England dropped in, jeans would still be the order of the day. As I have said, I am always overdressed in Calgary.
Came home and enjoyed the pair of quail-like prairie ground birds that visit my feeder every day. Today they stayed, burroughed into the snow and slept. Also had a few hares hopping around the feeder. We live next to an open, wild area, hence the coyotes and other wildlife with whom we share quarters.
It's very cold and snowing here, but who cares?! Put up the outside lights, decorated the mantle, put up the little two-foot tree that was my mother's in our bedroom, bought the pointsettias and set up the creche. The table and big tree will be next.
But the perfect gift was a great chat with my Toronto son. That topped it all off.
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