That's what I said to B when we arrived at his alma mater in London in 2004. He had insisted we stay at London House, where he had lived as a graduate student when at the LSE on a scholarship. Did I mention he was a brain? Is.
Rose-coloured glasses had clouded his memory of the residence he had enjoyed in the sixties, but at my age, it wasn't quite up-to-snuff. Never mind, I grinned and bore it.
We were there because in 2003, watching Wimbledon on TV, I said, "Next year we are going." He was overjoyed. Who cares about the money, I said. "You need to go to Wimbledon." And in 2004 we did. That was the first year Federer won where, in the final against Andy Roddick, the match wasn't even close. Regardless of the Roddick serve, Federer had an answer to everything. Watching him this evening, he still has it....I hope. At 32 a tennis player is pretty much finished, but Roger is proving that in the early rounds he may still have it (?). I must say, however, some of the shots he missed this match he would not have in '04. The legs aren't there, regardless of the intense training.
"Are you sitting down?" the Tennis Canada woman had said to me in 2004 when I picked up the phone. "Yes," I replied. "You drew the men's final," she announced. Whaaaaat!!?? That meant we had been given the privilege of purchasing $100 million tickets to the men's final that year at Wimbledon. What a thrill it was. When we arrived at the hallowed venue I thought I should sample a Pims. What a hideous drink, way too sweet. But what impressed me about Wimbledon were the ushers. No rent-a-cops here. All were young men and women from the Army, Navy and Air Force. A couple of young women near us had clearly elbowed a couple too many Pims. What happened? They were quietly escorted to an unmarked car by an usher and driven away. Perfect.
What else impressed me? The adequate number of women's washrooms. Amazing!
Watching Roger this evening I marvelled at his absolutely breathtaking one-handed backhand. It is a thing of beauty. Don't you hate that two-fisted version? Might as well be playing baseball. Ugly.
Pretty much glued during this tournament.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Nations and Tribes
A few years ago, I came across 'I Am an Indian', a compilation of native tales edited by someone named Kent Gooderham, whoever he was. Published in 1969, when you could call Indians "Indians", the book sheds authentic scholastic light on the history of "natives"* in Canada. Reading it I learned that the Mohawk are a tribe of the Iroquois Nation. So are the Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Huron, Tobacco and Seneca -- all part of the Iroquois Nation.
This is true all across North America, where 11 basic linguistic families (nations) have existed for thousands of years. Nations are identified by language; tribes formed within them.
The linguistic nations are:
The Algonkian occupy most of middle Northern Canada, with the Naskapi, Cree, Mistassini Cree, Ojibway, Ottawa and Algonkin tribes. The Maritimes are the territory of the Micmac, Abnaki, Passamaquoddy, Malecite, Penobscot and the now-extinct Beothuk.
Way up North the Kuchin, Hare, Dogrib, Slave, Nahani, Tagish, Talhtan, Tsetsaut, Tsimshian, Carrier, Sekani, Chilcotin, Sarcee, Beaver and Chipewyan form the large Athapaskan linguistic nation of tribes.
"The Indians of Canada are not alike," the introduction states. "Separated by language, culture and geography, they are as different from one another as they are from the Europeans, Asians and Africans who came to live among them. They resemble their movie image even less."
Who knew Christopher Columbus, mistaking North America for India, called the inhabitants "Indians"? So, that's where the name came from. We may think of them as "Indians", but they identify by tribe as Salish, Sioux, Ojibway.....etc.
"Among the people who speak a similar language, there are many tribes. The Blackfoot of the Western plains and Micmac of the Atlantic coast who both speak Algonkian languages live thousands of miles apart and until modern times never met, or knew the other existed," it reveals. What's up with that?
This book is fascinating -- which is why I "borrowed" it permanently. With Mohawk ancestors, I am fascinated by Indians, while at the same time call them mercilessly to task for the shabby way they treat their own on too many reserves. One interesting thing I learned was that the Tyendinaga Reserve in Napanee, where my great-grandmother is from, is named after Joseph Brant, whose name was "Thayendanega" Why they changed the spelling, I have no clue?
I will be writing about the stories in this book in the future.
_____________________________________
*I don't like calling "aboriginal" people "natives" because they came from Asia, so are not "native" to Canada, anymore than other immigrants. I don't like "aboriginal" either since it means people who have existed...."from the beginning". Adam and Eve are basically the only aboriginals in my world.
This is true all across North America, where 11 basic linguistic families (nations) have existed for thousands of years. Nations are identified by language; tribes formed within them.
The linguistic nations are:
- Algonkian
- Iroquoian
- Siouan
- Athapaskan
- Kootenayan
- Salishan
- Tsimshian
- Haidan
- Wakashan
- Tlinkit, and
- Beothukan
The Algonkian occupy most of middle Northern Canada, with the Naskapi, Cree, Mistassini Cree, Ojibway, Ottawa and Algonkin tribes. The Maritimes are the territory of the Micmac, Abnaki, Passamaquoddy, Malecite, Penobscot and the now-extinct Beothuk.
Way up North the Kuchin, Hare, Dogrib, Slave, Nahani, Tagish, Talhtan, Tsetsaut, Tsimshian, Carrier, Sekani, Chilcotin, Sarcee, Beaver and Chipewyan form the large Athapaskan linguistic nation of tribes.
"The Indians of Canada are not alike," the introduction states. "Separated by language, culture and geography, they are as different from one another as they are from the Europeans, Asians and Africans who came to live among them. They resemble their movie image even less."
Who knew Christopher Columbus, mistaking North America for India, called the inhabitants "Indians"? So, that's where the name came from. We may think of them as "Indians", but they identify by tribe as Salish, Sioux, Ojibway.....etc.
"Among the people who speak a similar language, there are many tribes. The Blackfoot of the Western plains and Micmac of the Atlantic coast who both speak Algonkian languages live thousands of miles apart and until modern times never met, or knew the other existed," it reveals. What's up with that?
This book is fascinating -- which is why I "borrowed" it permanently. With Mohawk ancestors, I am fascinated by Indians, while at the same time call them mercilessly to task for the shabby way they treat their own on too many reserves. One interesting thing I learned was that the Tyendinaga Reserve in Napanee, where my great-grandmother is from, is named after Joseph Brant, whose name was "Thayendanega" Why they changed the spelling, I have no clue?
I will be writing about the stories in this book in the future.
_____________________________________
*I don't like calling "aboriginal" people "natives" because they came from Asia, so are not "native" to Canada, anymore than other immigrants. I don't like "aboriginal" either since it means people who have existed...."from the beginning". Adam and Eve are basically the only aboriginals in my world.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Women's tennis
Nick Bollettieri has pretty much ruined women's tennis. It's all pound-it-from-the-baseline-until-someone-hits-it-out-or-into-the-net. No one hits "winners", just losers and unforced errors.
Boy, what a tough way to get a point. Rallies sometimes last 20 or 30 shots. Exhausting. I miss Martina Navratilova and her magnificent serve-and-volley game. That girl made winners. She won the points, didn't flub them. The last man who was beautiful to watch was Stephan Edberg -- another serve-and-volley guy who literally pranced up to the net and put it away. Roger? He's brilliant and does quite a bit of serve-and-volley, but only when he's down and has to pull out all the stops. Just listened to him and his favourite player is Edberg, naturally.
Bjorn Borg was completely boring. Loved Johnie Mac and sort of liked Connors. Becker had the moves and a lot of courage, so did Agassi. But no one compared with Ilie Nastase for breathtaking and irresistible outrageousness. Another? Google Whitney Reed and you will find a guy who loved the game and played hard on and off the court -- booze and women his forte -- oh, and along with brilliant tennis.
Today the giants treading the courts are boring. They don't even look as if they are having any fun, never crack a smile or play to the crowd. It's all about money. I remember a great book we had, 'Tennis for the Bloody Fun of It', by Rod Laver and Roy Emerson, two Aussi's. Guess today's circuit players haven't read it.
Men's tennis is pretty much "pound it" too. Not that I have any business commenting (since when did that stop me) because I no longer play, my bursitis-ridden hips preventing it, but I still love to watch. Problem is I just wait for the unforced error to end the point. Heck, Venus Williams had 44 in her last match yesterday at the US Open! Out in the first round.
Just have to throw in here that I find it unfair that the women now get the same prize money as the men -- even though they play two fewer sets. Once again, women want equality......but not really.
B still has every sh-t shot in the book. Having played junior Exhibition Davis Cup as a teen, he's got 'em all, which is why I hated playing him when we were younger. "Hit it to me," I used to instruct him. "What!? Are you crazy?" he would reply, dropping one just over the net with so much juice on it it bounced back the other way as I stumbled to reach the ball -- never succeeding. I don't think in all the years I played him I even got a game, let alone a set! Maybe a few points here and there, but as soon as I would get a point, he would wake up from his bored torpor and hammer me.
Our kids grew up at tennis clubs -- particularly The Rideau in Ottawa, where I was reared. My mother's photo box has shots of me in a baby carriage outside a court they were playing on. B and I followed their lead, taking all four kids to that club as toddlers and kids for lessons and lazy days by the pool. Great, great memories.
There's something about a tennis club.......................
Boy, what a tough way to get a point. Rallies sometimes last 20 or 30 shots. Exhausting. I miss Martina Navratilova and her magnificent serve-and-volley game. That girl made winners. She won the points, didn't flub them. The last man who was beautiful to watch was Stephan Edberg -- another serve-and-volley guy who literally pranced up to the net and put it away. Roger? He's brilliant and does quite a bit of serve-and-volley, but only when he's down and has to pull out all the stops. Just listened to him and his favourite player is Edberg, naturally.
Bjorn Borg was completely boring. Loved Johnie Mac and sort of liked Connors. Becker had the moves and a lot of courage, so did Agassi. But no one compared with Ilie Nastase for breathtaking and irresistible outrageousness. Another? Google Whitney Reed and you will find a guy who loved the game and played hard on and off the court -- booze and women his forte -- oh, and along with brilliant tennis.
Today the giants treading the courts are boring. They don't even look as if they are having any fun, never crack a smile or play to the crowd. It's all about money. I remember a great book we had, 'Tennis for the Bloody Fun of It', by Rod Laver and Roy Emerson, two Aussi's. Guess today's circuit players haven't read it.
Men's tennis is pretty much "pound it" too. Not that I have any business commenting (since when did that stop me) because I no longer play, my bursitis-ridden hips preventing it, but I still love to watch. Problem is I just wait for the unforced error to end the point. Heck, Venus Williams had 44 in her last match yesterday at the US Open! Out in the first round.
Just have to throw in here that I find it unfair that the women now get the same prize money as the men -- even though they play two fewer sets. Once again, women want equality......but not really.
B still has every sh-t shot in the book. Having played junior Exhibition Davis Cup as a teen, he's got 'em all, which is why I hated playing him when we were younger. "Hit it to me," I used to instruct him. "What!? Are you crazy?" he would reply, dropping one just over the net with so much juice on it it bounced back the other way as I stumbled to reach the ball -- never succeeding. I don't think in all the years I played him I even got a game, let alone a set! Maybe a few points here and there, but as soon as I would get a point, he would wake up from his bored torpor and hammer me.
Our kids grew up at tennis clubs -- particularly The Rideau in Ottawa, where I was reared. My mother's photo box has shots of me in a baby carriage outside a court they were playing on. B and I followed their lead, taking all four kids to that club as toddlers and kids for lessons and lazy days by the pool. Great, great memories.
There's something about a tennis club.......................
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Couldn't care less
Sorry, but I could care less about Syria. In fact, the entire middle east leaves me cold. I wonder what Harry Truman would have done? Probably dropped a couple of atomic bombs on the entire region.
Now Britain, the US and others are thinking of invading that ineffective and moribund country. Why?
I always think "too much coffee" when I see images of people from that region rioting hysterically. I am serious. Many blame men for the atrocities, but guess who raised them? The mothers. The men fighting and hating now have been taught at the breast and knees of their mothers to hate and fight.
Mothers have the most influence on their children.
Now Britain, the US and others are thinking of invading that ineffective and moribund country. Why?
I always think "too much coffee" when I see images of people from that region rioting hysterically. I am serious. Many blame men for the atrocities, but guess who raised them? The mothers. The men fighting and hating now have been taught at the breast and knees of their mothers to hate and fight.
Mothers have the most influence on their children.
The patronage shuffle
"Jenni Byrne, currently director of political operations for the Conservative Party, is moving to the PMO to become a deputy chief of staff to Mr. Harper," read an article in today's The Herald. It's shuffle time on the decks of the Titanic, as it faces defeat by young turk Trudeau.
I have never understood why a PM needs a "director of political operations"? Isn't that the leader's job? Byrne was previously "director of issues management". Doesn't Harper "manage issues"? Seems to me he micro-manages everything. Other bizarre posts?
When I was working in the federal public service, I used to wonder why an ADM needed a "policy advisor"? Shouldn't someone who has reached the rank of ADM be able to figure out his or her own policies based on what the Minister and Deputy Minister hand down? Who needs an ADM if they have to take notes at the knee of a "policy advisor"?
I used to write a ton of policy documents, issue papers and cabinet documents -- even though I was middlin' in the organization. These were then presented with great fanfare as brilliant tomes up the line, my never getting credit. Not that I minded, I was being well-paid. But there were a lot of men and women senior to me who took a lot of baton-credit for things they had neither thought up, nor written.
Never got it.
I have never understood why a PM needs a "director of political operations"? Isn't that the leader's job? Byrne was previously "director of issues management". Doesn't Harper "manage issues"? Seems to me he micro-manages everything. Other bizarre posts?
- Director of strategic planning
- Senior adviser to the PM's chief of staff -- the chief of staff himself needs a "senior advisor"?
- Director of strategic communications -- as opposed to "un-strategic"?
- Deputy chief of staff...............
When I was working in the federal public service, I used to wonder why an ADM needed a "policy advisor"? Shouldn't someone who has reached the rank of ADM be able to figure out his or her own policies based on what the Minister and Deputy Minister hand down? Who needs an ADM if they have to take notes at the knee of a "policy advisor"?
I used to write a ton of policy documents, issue papers and cabinet documents -- even though I was middlin' in the organization. These were then presented with great fanfare as brilliant tomes up the line, my never getting credit. Not that I minded, I was being well-paid. But there were a lot of men and women senior to me who took a lot of baton-credit for things they had neither thought up, nor written.
Never got it.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Can't stand her
Pam Shriver. Watching the US Open, seems neither can anyone else. When she interviews someone, the cameraman never trains the lens on Pam, just the player she is interviewing. Thank you. Shriver probably pisses off the staff and they get back at her, afterall they have the power. Pam is smug and "superior". Why?
Googled her and learned she has accused her ex, George Lazenby, of everything under the sun and has insisted on supervised visits when he is allowed five minutes with his three kids. Pam, listen to me, down the line your kids are going to hate you for blocking access. Do these women think they bore children by immaculate conception? Obviously. By the way, I have personal experience with women such as these, the mother of B's children having behaved -- to her detriment -- in exactly the same way. No, B did not have to endure the hideous humiliation of "supervised visits" because he successfully fought back. In fact, because of his ex's determination to deny him access -- just "show me the money" her mantra -- he was awarded majority custody, unheard of in 1984. That's how I ended up raising four kids!
I used to try and be "nice", but now I follow Tennessee Williams' lead. Remember the scene in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof', when "Big Daddy" Burl Ives goes on and on about "mendacity", how it smells and how he can't stand the stench of it? Neither can I. The truth will out eventually.
Last week I was so happy to meet up with the father of my kids and see that he is OK, that he loves his son, daughter and grandson. What a great experience, I was moved and so was he. Still love and respect there, in spite of what has gone on for many years.
On another note, had lunch with "D" today, a woman I swim with. We think alike. "I hate him/her," we say to each other when spotting someone in the pool we can't stand. Both of us have the same visceral reaction to people and I really can't explain why? I see or meet someone and I either "like" or "can't stand" them at first sight. So non-Christian I admit, but the older I get, the more definite I am about everything. Not that I wasn't before, just voice my opinions without hesitation.
There are some advantages getting to be an "old broad".
Googled her and learned she has accused her ex, George Lazenby, of everything under the sun and has insisted on supervised visits when he is allowed five minutes with his three kids. Pam, listen to me, down the line your kids are going to hate you for blocking access. Do these women think they bore children by immaculate conception? Obviously. By the way, I have personal experience with women such as these, the mother of B's children having behaved -- to her detriment -- in exactly the same way. No, B did not have to endure the hideous humiliation of "supervised visits" because he successfully fought back. In fact, because of his ex's determination to deny him access -- just "show me the money" her mantra -- he was awarded majority custody, unheard of in 1984. That's how I ended up raising four kids!
I used to try and be "nice", but now I follow Tennessee Williams' lead. Remember the scene in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof', when "Big Daddy" Burl Ives goes on and on about "mendacity", how it smells and how he can't stand the stench of it? Neither can I. The truth will out eventually.
Last week I was so happy to meet up with the father of my kids and see that he is OK, that he loves his son, daughter and grandson. What a great experience, I was moved and so was he. Still love and respect there, in spite of what has gone on for many years.
On another note, had lunch with "D" today, a woman I swim with. We think alike. "I hate him/her," we say to each other when spotting someone in the pool we can't stand. Both of us have the same visceral reaction to people and I really can't explain why? I see or meet someone and I either "like" or "can't stand" them at first sight. So non-Christian I admit, but the older I get, the more definite I am about everything. Not that I wasn't before, just voice my opinions without hesitation.
There are some advantages getting to be an "old broad".
Two letters on different subjects
Today was a bit of a red-letter day for me. Had two letters-to-the editor published, one in The Globe and Mail, the other in The Herald. Here they are:
The Globe and Mail
Reserve ennui
Ennui on a reserve (How I Came Face To Face With Ennui On A Reserve – Aug. 24)? It’s called the status quo.
Richard Wagamese blames the Indian Act for the lack of motivation and action on most reserves. He’s right, but it’s not just “Ottawa” that’s to blame. The chiefs also have a huge stake in preserving the act because it is the mechanism which allows unaccounted-for billions to flow every year to native communities.
Protestations to the contrary, neither chiefs nor bureaucrats sincerely want anything to change – much to the detriment of both the Canadian taxpayer, who foots the bill, and those who live in squalor on an average northern reserve.
Nancy Marley-Clarke, Calgary
The Calgary Herald
The Globe and Mail
Reserve ennui
Ennui on a reserve (How I Came Face To Face With Ennui On A Reserve – Aug. 24)? It’s called the status quo.
Richard Wagamese blames the Indian Act for the lack of motivation and action on most reserves. He’s right, but it’s not just “Ottawa” that’s to blame. The chiefs also have a huge stake in preserving the act because it is the mechanism which allows unaccounted-for billions to flow every year to native communities.
Protestations to the contrary, neither chiefs nor bureaucrats sincerely want anything to change – much to the detriment of both the Canadian taxpayer, who foots the bill, and those who live in squalor on an average northern reserve.
Nancy Marley-Clarke, Calgary
The Calgary Herald
Dear Editor,
Doesn’t Quebec Premier Marois get it? It was purely thanks to the Catholic Church in
Quebec that her sanctified French language was preserved and nurtured in schools
and institutions. Quebeckers would all be speaking English, were it not for
that inconvenient truth. To ban religious symbols in those very institutions is the height of hypocrisy.
Nancy Marley-Clarke
Monday, August 26, 2013
Bums all
Finally Mac Harb has resigned. After bilking the Canadian taxpayer for hundreds of thousands, he has called it quits. About time. The same should go for Pamela Wallin, Mike Duffy and Patrick Brazeau.
How Wallin could stand there in front of a microphone and accuse Deloitte Touche of being out-of-line is beyond me. She used to be a reporter, didn't she? Or was she just a "hostess" on Canada AM? She claimed it was a witch hunt. Sorry Pam, you blew it. You should simply have had the grace to admit your errors, congratulate the Senate and Deloitte and pay the money back.
I had great hopes for Patrick Brazeau when he was elected head of off-reserve natives a few years ago. He was articulate and had harsh words for on-reserve chiefs who were not doing their people any good. But he blew it. Assaulting and allegedly raping his girlfriend? Not good moves.
Mike Duffy? Another former journalist who would be all over the story in which he is embroiled. I guess these people start to believe their own press and suffer from 'Stockholm Syndrome'.
Here's another beaute: Pauline Marois, premier of Quebec, is putting through a bill which will make it illegal for anyone employed in a public institution to wear any type of religious symbol or dress. Done, I am convinced, to prevent Muslims from wearing hijabs or burkas, she has had to include Christian (and presumably Jewish) symbols as well, but she has lost sight of one crucial point. It was the Catholic Church that preserved and nurtured the French language, culture and values in Quebec -- something which the British allowed after their victory on the Plains of Abraham. Without this concession, Quebeckers would be speaking English.
To prevent religious symbols now is not only illogical, it is brazenly hypocritical. Pauline, give your head a shake. Twenty thousand Quebeckers fled the province last year and 85% headed for Alberta. Guess what? Another few thousand will flock off after this.
How Wallin could stand there in front of a microphone and accuse Deloitte Touche of being out-of-line is beyond me. She used to be a reporter, didn't she? Or was she just a "hostess" on Canada AM? She claimed it was a witch hunt. Sorry Pam, you blew it. You should simply have had the grace to admit your errors, congratulate the Senate and Deloitte and pay the money back.
I had great hopes for Patrick Brazeau when he was elected head of off-reserve natives a few years ago. He was articulate and had harsh words for on-reserve chiefs who were not doing their people any good. But he blew it. Assaulting and allegedly raping his girlfriend? Not good moves.
Mike Duffy? Another former journalist who would be all over the story in which he is embroiled. I guess these people start to believe their own press and suffer from 'Stockholm Syndrome'.
Here's another beaute: Pauline Marois, premier of Quebec, is putting through a bill which will make it illegal for anyone employed in a public institution to wear any type of religious symbol or dress. Done, I am convinced, to prevent Muslims from wearing hijabs or burkas, she has had to include Christian (and presumably Jewish) symbols as well, but she has lost sight of one crucial point. It was the Catholic Church that preserved and nurtured the French language, culture and values in Quebec -- something which the British allowed after their victory on the Plains of Abraham. Without this concession, Quebeckers would be speaking English.
To prevent religious symbols now is not only illogical, it is brazenly hypocritical. Pauline, give your head a shake. Twenty thousand Quebeckers fled the province last year and 85% headed for Alberta. Guess what? Another few thousand will flock off after this.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Ridiculous
$7,300 for a carry-on travel bag. Absolutely dumb. I don't care if it is 'Hermes'. Who needs an almost $8,000 tote bag?! In fact, who needs anything "Hermes" period?
Flipping through the 'Grand Luxury Travel' magazine supplement in The Herald this morning, I saw a ton of stuff no one needs. How about a $1,080 Louis Vuitton Monogrammed Jewel Case? Or a $152 J. Crew shoe-care kit? For $190 you can buy a cashmere travel pillow and eye mask. Hey, how about just closing your lids?!
"Pack a touch of practical luxury in your carry-on with this brightly hued (sic) passport cover and card holder set from Valextra," reads the promotion for wallet-sized holders, only $240 each!
What is wrong with people? Why buys this junk?
Flipping through the 'Grand Luxury Travel' magazine supplement in The Herald this morning, I saw a ton of stuff no one needs. How about a $1,080 Louis Vuitton Monogrammed Jewel Case? Or a $152 J. Crew shoe-care kit? For $190 you can buy a cashmere travel pillow and eye mask. Hey, how about just closing your lids?!
"Pack a touch of practical luxury in your carry-on with this brightly hued (sic) passport cover and card holder set from Valextra," reads the promotion for wallet-sized holders, only $240 each!
What is wrong with people? Why buys this junk?
Friday, August 23, 2013
Flowers in Calgary.............
I think my pots are more beautiful this year than last. But we are to experience an early frost here in Calgary. So, before they fade and die, here they are in all their glory...............
Stampede and stuff............
A shot of B and I at Stampede 2013 -- just after the devastating floods. Also a couple of kids and grandson...........
 |
Three of our kids in front of Rockcliffe Park Public School in Ottawa, where they all went from kindergarten to grade six.  |
My morning glories are magnificent!
Don't bother running
"What a great job you are doing Mr. Mayor," I said to Naheed Nenshi last night, shaking his hand. "Thank you very much," he beamed back. We were at a tent theatre performance of 'The Pirates of Penzance' down on the River Walk, previously devastated by the floods.
The mayor was sitting right behind us. What a great guy. Don't even bother to run against him. After the job he did during the floods, the incumbent Calgary mayor is unbeatable. He was everywhere-all-the-time....accessible, communicative, caring, hands-on, sleeves rolled, shovel in hand......you name it, he nailed it.
But back to 'The Pirates'. For some reason I have never liked "performances". Sitting in an audience in a theatre, watching something -- anything -- has never been my cup of tea. "Why am I here?" is what I ask myself as I look around at all the hundreds of others doing the same thing. Here I am, trapped in the middle of a row of seats, surrounded by complete strangers. I'd rather be home talking to myself or doing laundry than watching a bunch of actors and singers doing something in front of me. Why do we pay money for this phoniness? They don't mean it, yet we buy it. It's so absurd.
Anyway, that's just me.
We left at intermission. I came home and cleaned the kitchen.
The mayor was sitting right behind us. What a great guy. Don't even bother to run against him. After the job he did during the floods, the incumbent Calgary mayor is unbeatable. He was everywhere-all-the-time....accessible, communicative, caring, hands-on, sleeves rolled, shovel in hand......you name it, he nailed it.
But back to 'The Pirates'. For some reason I have never liked "performances". Sitting in an audience in a theatre, watching something -- anything -- has never been my cup of tea. "Why am I here?" is what I ask myself as I look around at all the hundreds of others doing the same thing. Here I am, trapped in the middle of a row of seats, surrounded by complete strangers. I'd rather be home talking to myself or doing laundry than watching a bunch of actors and singers doing something in front of me. Why do we pay money for this phoniness? They don't mean it, yet we buy it. It's so absurd.
Anyway, that's just me.
We left at intermission. I came home and cleaned the kitchen.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
I edit everything
Reading 'The Economist' today, I had lots of problems with the editorial. Does not even that venerable magazine know how to write? Apparently not. Here are a few examples:
Economist
"His government packed a constitutional committee with Islamists, rushing through electoral and other laws without due consent."
Me
"Rushing through electoral and other laws without due consent, his government packed a constitutional committee with Islamists."
"Packed" and "rushed" have to agree, but in their version did not. Were the Islamists rushing through electoral and other laws? That's the way it reads.
Economist
"Victimhood"
Me
"Victimization"
Economist
"...and if they had refused to hold a vote, then the people would have risen up."
Me
"....and if refused the vote, people would have risen up."
Economist
"The Brothers' incompetence and abuse of power is now disappearing............"
Me
"The Brothers' incompetence and abuse of power is disappearing............"
Economist
".......also depriving millions of other Egyptians of the freedoms that they crave -- and which they have tasted, however briefly, since the overthrow of Mr. Mubarak."
Me
".........also depriving millions of the freedoms they craved and had briefly tasted following the overthrow of Mr. Mubarak."
Economist
"If the generals want a stable Egypt, in which they command the loyalty of ordinary Egyptians, they should therefore draw back from the brink."
Me
"If the generals want a stable Egypt with loyalty from ordinary Egyptians, they should stand down."
Economist
"The committee they have entrusted with amending the constitution..............."
Me
"The committee entrusted with amending the constitution.............."
Economist
"No one could have ever thought..........."
Me
"No one would have thought..........."
Economist
"..the question of how to accommodate Islam has everywhere proved vexed."
Me
".........the dilemma of accommodating Islam has proven vexatious."
Economist
"policymaking"
Me
"policy-making"
Economist
"The question is whether suppression really is now the way to deal with the Muslim Brothers, or whether it simply adds to the mayhem."
Me
"The question is whether suppression is the way to deal with the Muslim Brothers, or whether it adds to the mayhem?"
I could go on, but won`t. This is in a one-page editorial and I have only scratched the surface.
Pretty appalling.
Economist
"His government packed a constitutional committee with Islamists, rushing through electoral and other laws without due consent."
Me
"Rushing through electoral and other laws without due consent, his government packed a constitutional committee with Islamists."
"Packed" and "rushed" have to agree, but in their version did not. Were the Islamists rushing through electoral and other laws? That's the way it reads.
Economist
"Victimhood"
Me
"Victimization"
Economist
"...and if they had refused to hold a vote, then the people would have risen up."
Me
"....and if refused the vote, people would have risen up."
Economist
"The Brothers' incompetence and abuse of power is now disappearing............"
Me
"The Brothers' incompetence and abuse of power is disappearing............"
Economist
".......also depriving millions of other Egyptians of the freedoms that they crave -- and which they have tasted, however briefly, since the overthrow of Mr. Mubarak."
Me
".........also depriving millions of the freedoms they craved and had briefly tasted following the overthrow of Mr. Mubarak."
Economist
"If the generals want a stable Egypt, in which they command the loyalty of ordinary Egyptians, they should therefore draw back from the brink."
Me
"If the generals want a stable Egypt with loyalty from ordinary Egyptians, they should stand down."
Economist
"The committee they have entrusted with amending the constitution..............."
Me
"The committee entrusted with amending the constitution.............."
Economist
"No one could have ever thought..........."
Me
"No one would have thought..........."
Economist
"..the question of how to accommodate Islam has everywhere proved vexed."
Me
".........the dilemma of accommodating Islam has proven vexatious."
Economist
"policymaking"
Me
"policy-making"
Economist
"The question is whether suppression really is now the way to deal with the Muslim Brothers, or whether it simply adds to the mayhem."
Me
"The question is whether suppression is the way to deal with the Muslim Brothers, or whether it adds to the mayhem?"
I could go on, but won`t. This is in a one-page editorial and I have only scratched the surface.
Pretty appalling.
Proud Natives
My ex-husband gave me these beautiful Tom McNeely watercolour prints, which are perfect for Calgary. Going to frame and hang them. McNeely, born in 1935, is still alive and has done many, many watercolours depicting the history of Canada.
I know I trash the natives because so often they deserve to be trashed, but they have -- or had -- a proud history which cannot be undone by the greedy leaders of today.
This blog is dedicated to my good friend "F", herself an absolutely beautiful status Indian. It's also dedicated to my Mohawk great-grandmother and fore-bearers from the Tyendinaga Reserve outside Napanee, Ontario, with my never-ending gratitude for her having moved off-reserve to marry so I could enjoy a "normal" life as a proud Canadian................
I know I trash the natives because so often they deserve to be trashed, but they have -- or had -- a proud history which cannot be undone by the greedy leaders of today.
This blog is dedicated to my good friend "F", herself an absolutely beautiful status Indian. It's also dedicated to my Mohawk great-grandmother and fore-bearers from the Tyendinaga Reserve outside Napanee, Ontario, with my never-ending gratitude for her having moved off-reserve to marry so I could enjoy a "normal" life as a proud Canadian................
 |
| Towik, Salish Indian, Northwest Coast |
 |
| Shaniyuti, Kutchin Indian, Western Subarctic |
 |
| Sistsawana, Piegan Indian, Plains |
 |
Atikwian, Naskapi Indian, Eastern Subarctic
Kakake, Potawatomi Indian, Western woodlands
Usugleg, Netsilik Eskimo, Central Arctic
|
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
I'm hooked
Have to get Netflicks. Have to keep watching 'House of Cards'. What a great show, thanks to the brilliance of Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright (no longer "Penn"). Both are wonderful and remind me so much of all the politicians and sleazy bureaucrats I worked with and for in Ottawa.
I started working for a minister in Trudeau's government as a speech writer, then ended up in a department. Actually, I found the ministers I worked for pretty cool and up front. It was the fawning senior DMs and ADMs that were the worst. Stab you in the back? No problem. Stab you in the front? Let's go for it. When politics, official languages and political correctness took over the staffing process, competence flew out the door. And usually the incompetent ones knew they were incompetent and didn't belong in the jobs they had been handed, so were mean, aggressive, miserable and bitchy. Any women we all worked for come to mind?
You bettcha, lots.
Robin and Sean Penn divorced three years ago after quite a few years together, 20 I think. How anyone as classy as Robin Wright could stay married to a bum like Sean Penn for that long I have no clue. But thin! Robin Wright is so thin I wonder how all her organs fit into that teensy space below her waist? I mean we're talkin' large and small intestines, a uterus, ovaries, bladder, liver, kidneys, stomach.....and all stuffed into a compartment no more than eight inches square! Think about it.
Speaking of "Hollywood couples", wonder when Brad and Angelina will break up? It's about time for her to move on to another bad boy such as Billy Bob. "Oh that's her cheerleader phase," he quipped when asked about her latest husband, Brad. "She'll be dumping him soon."
I have a feeling he's right.
I started working for a minister in Trudeau's government as a speech writer, then ended up in a department. Actually, I found the ministers I worked for pretty cool and up front. It was the fawning senior DMs and ADMs that were the worst. Stab you in the back? No problem. Stab you in the front? Let's go for it. When politics, official languages and political correctness took over the staffing process, competence flew out the door. And usually the incompetent ones knew they were incompetent and didn't belong in the jobs they had been handed, so were mean, aggressive, miserable and bitchy. Any women we all worked for come to mind?
You bettcha, lots.
Robin and Sean Penn divorced three years ago after quite a few years together, 20 I think. How anyone as classy as Robin Wright could stay married to a bum like Sean Penn for that long I have no clue. But thin! Robin Wright is so thin I wonder how all her organs fit into that teensy space below her waist? I mean we're talkin' large and small intestines, a uterus, ovaries, bladder, liver, kidneys, stomach.....and all stuffed into a compartment no more than eight inches square! Think about it.
Speaking of "Hollywood couples", wonder when Brad and Angelina will break up? It's about time for her to move on to another bad boy such as Billy Bob. "Oh that's her cheerleader phase," he quipped when asked about her latest husband, Brad. "She'll be dumping him soon."
I have a feeling he's right.
An unwelcome surprise
"Those dates aren't good for us," wrote back my cousin "D" when I assumed we'd be staying with him and his wife while visiting Ottawa -- just as we did a couple of months ago. What??!! He is like my brother, we were raised together, and now that we live so far away I take it for granted that we will always be welcome. Guess not.
But it was his wife who made that decision. He would never, ever tell me I couldn't stay with him just as I would never ever tell him he couldn't stay with me in Calgary. Never. Just would not happen. Maybe I flubbed part of the 16-page manual his wife "C" left last time, instructing me on everything from how to flush a toilet to how to feed a cat. Probably committed a major transgression along the way...oh yeah, think I bought the wrong laundry detergent, oops! But hey, I even did her ironing for G-d's sake. Nevermind, we managed.
The side trip to Ottawa from Toronto with son, daughter and grandson was action-packed. On the way, we visited their father who went all out, taking us to a lovely restaurant for lunch, showering us with presents and generally trying to make up for many years of, well, neglect. We all got along famously, he still has his quirky sense of humour, and met his grandson for the first time. Half the time he introduced me to people as his "wife", the other half as his "ex-wife". We kept laughing about it.
Flew back this morning on WestJet and realized that Calgary is really feeling like home. What do I miss about back east? The magnificent trees....but not the humidity. Arriving back, I noted that B had faithfully watered my plants and kept the house clean and tidy. He even had a dozen red roses and a card waiting, it having been our anniversary while I was away.
More trip tales later.............
But it was his wife who made that decision. He would never, ever tell me I couldn't stay with him just as I would never ever tell him he couldn't stay with me in Calgary. Never. Just would not happen. Maybe I flubbed part of the 16-page manual his wife "C" left last time, instructing me on everything from how to flush a toilet to how to feed a cat. Probably committed a major transgression along the way...oh yeah, think I bought the wrong laundry detergent, oops! But hey, I even did her ironing for G-d's sake. Nevermind, we managed.
The side trip to Ottawa from Toronto with son, daughter and grandson was action-packed. On the way, we visited their father who went all out, taking us to a lovely restaurant for lunch, showering us with presents and generally trying to make up for many years of, well, neglect. We all got along famously, he still has his quirky sense of humour, and met his grandson for the first time. Half the time he introduced me to people as his "wife", the other half as his "ex-wife". We kept laughing about it.
Flew back this morning on WestJet and realized that Calgary is really feeling like home. What do I miss about back east? The magnificent trees....but not the humidity. Arriving back, I noted that B had faithfully watered my plants and kept the house clean and tidy. He even had a dozen red roses and a card waiting, it having been our anniversary while I was away.
More trip tales later.............
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Scottish lotharios
"I was going to ask for your number," said the Scotsman who had stopped to chat. My Toronto son had just arrived at our appointed meeting spot near his office and was surprised to find a middle-aged gentleman "hitting" on his mother.
I kid you not. Trying to stay out of the sun, I had found a bench near a condo apartment building as this guy was entering. "Good to stay out of the sun," he said as he walked by. But then he stopped, came back and started chatting me up. It was very weird and funny. Another who thought I was about 53, as if. He had all the lines. Must be very lonely.
Daughter and I are in Toronto with grandson visiting my son. Weirder than what happened today is what will happen tomorrow. We are all visiting my ex (their father) tomorrow -- someone I haven't seen in 20 years. Yes folks, it's a long story (his choice), but he will meet his grandson and our kids will finally reconnect with their Dad, all good.
Toronto is no longer "white". Everyone is either brown, black or oriental. Not that I care, but it is amazing for someone such as I to realize we will soon be overtaken by other races who, quite simply, have more children. Demographics tell the story. Old-fashioned white Canadians will soon be a curious minority. And we did it to ourselves. Women getting better educations, waiting longer to have children, having only one, two or none -- that's how it happens. We think we are "improving" our lot, but we are forfeiting our culture.
No one to blame but Gloria Steinem and Germaine Greer. Gee, thanks.
I kid you not. Trying to stay out of the sun, I had found a bench near a condo apartment building as this guy was entering. "Good to stay out of the sun," he said as he walked by. But then he stopped, came back and started chatting me up. It was very weird and funny. Another who thought I was about 53, as if. He had all the lines. Must be very lonely.
Daughter and I are in Toronto with grandson visiting my son. Weirder than what happened today is what will happen tomorrow. We are all visiting my ex (their father) tomorrow -- someone I haven't seen in 20 years. Yes folks, it's a long story (his choice), but he will meet his grandson and our kids will finally reconnect with their Dad, all good.
Toronto is no longer "white". Everyone is either brown, black or oriental. Not that I care, but it is amazing for someone such as I to realize we will soon be overtaken by other races who, quite simply, have more children. Demographics tell the story. Old-fashioned white Canadians will soon be a curious minority. And we did it to ourselves. Women getting better educations, waiting longer to have children, having only one, two or none -- that's how it happens. We think we are "improving" our lot, but we are forfeiting our culture.
No one to blame but Gloria Steinem and Germaine Greer. Gee, thanks.
Monday, August 12, 2013
The perfect little helper
"Soos", says my grandson, handing them over whenever we mention the word "car". He is quite the little talker now, albeit in two or three words. But one word with the correct inflection accurately communicates exactly what he wants. It's amazing to re-discover the miraculous way toddlers begin to grasp language.
And don't mention the word "ice". To him that's "ice cream" and there'll be no peace until he gets some, or is distracted. "Moh" is "more", when wants either more food, or more of anything else -- such as tunnels, swings, his hat, water (yours, never his).......whatever. "All done" comes out very clearly. We also have "bony" for his bunny, but "bunny" for "Barney". "Happy" is his toothbrush, a brilliant stroke by daughter, who translates perfectly as I get the hang of it all. I am "ganda" for the moment, which captures perfectly either "grandma" or "grandpa". Clever.
When he wants help with something, or wants to show you something, he runs over and says "hand", while grasping it and leading you to wherever he wants you to go. Yesterday it was to a little toddler "house" in a playground in Golden, B.C., where we had stopped for a breather and a snack. When we got to the door, he literally pushed me in! Quite the sight watching me stoop down to enter this tiny abode. Once inside, we made mud pies at his insistence.
He loves to tidy up, clean tables, collect everyone's luggage, open doors, push you out of them, unlock the car with keys, "talk" on any phone, use the computer, punch the converter, drive and just generally order us all around. "No" and "yes" rule our worlds.
But this weekend he was a real trooper, braving long drives stuck in a hot car seat and sleeping in a strange hotel room. I think he is adorable and very hardy.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
600 K later..........
"It's a three to four-hour delay," the woman walking along the side of the highway said. "Apparently a tractor trailer has overturned." Great. This was the scene just as we were arriving in Banff, after more than an hour on the road from Invermere, B.C., where I had done a 2K open-water swim this morning (more about that later).
What a nightmare! Daughter and I had just travelled more than a hundred kilometres in a hot car, with a not-quite-two-year-old in the baby seat and were stuck in a parking lot on the highway. Heck, people were turning their engines off and hauling out the lawn chairs! They apparently knew that when something happens on Hwy 63 from Radium Springs to Banff, you have no choice but to either settle in, or turn back. We did the latter and drove all the way back to Radium, where we turned right and headed to.........wait for it..........Golden, B.C! Golden is north about 110 klicks, then we had to turn right again and head back another 155 Ks south to Banff, bypassing the parking lot on 63, until we finally hooked up on the great Trans Canada #1 and made it home in only....eight.....hours!
Six hundred Ks later, I finally hit the garage. Whew! By the way, the gas gauge in my dear little Honda Civic was just under half-empty. Can you believe that!? My little friend used only half a $40-ish tank to travel all that way! Sorry about the exclamation points, but what other way can one describe such a dear, little loyal car. Back to Radium.
When we stopped there for the second time and told the waitress of our hideous saga, she sagely said, "Oh, when they say three-to-four hours, it means overnight. You were right to turn around and head for Golden." A few others in the place were very grateful to have overheard. We all headed for Golden.
All this was after my 7 a.m. registration and 8 a.m. swim out into the middle of big, huge, scary Lake Windermere. Have to say I was nervous -- no, make that a full-on anxiety attack. Couldn't use the wet suit I had borrowed because it wasn't really a "wet suit". It was an underwater dive suit that my daughter said would get waterlogged and become "a drowning machine". Oh is that all! So, I -- along with only two other teenagers -- did the swim in only a bathing suit. Looking at everyone in their gleaming black suits, perfect goggles, masks and caps, I felt a tad intimidated, but the water was absolutely perfect. Off I headed.
Very shortly I found myself alone, the rest of the pack of 12-year-olds having taken off in a hurry. Happily one of the spotter boats elected to stay with me. "Thanks for hanging back with me," I called. "No problem, take your time!" I did. Every time I looked at that god-forsaken orange buoy, it seemed to be moving farther away! S-it! Maybe that's the five-K marker, I speculated, stopping and treading water to focus. But no, it was the one I had to reach before turning around and heading home.
That orange ball became my "Wilson". Remember that stupid soccer ball Tom Hanks befriends in that dumb movie after his FedEx plane crashes? I related. I loved that buoy, then hated it. When would I reach that jerk "Wilson"? When I finally swam up to the dreaded florescent enemy I said, "Whew, it's over!" But no! Tempted to hang on, rest and relax for a while, I realized immediately I had to swim the whole effing way back! At that point, "Wilson # 2" leering from the beach seemed completely unreachable; so did that huge annoying "Finish" banner, which I could not make out for a long, long time.
After what seemed an eternity, I actually reached the shore. Staggering up, my equilibrium out-of-whack after being horizontal for so long, I stumbled through the sand to the finish line and handed in my chip. Daughter was busily videoing my arrival, so will post that later. I was very proud that she -- an uber athlete in her own right -- was so proud of her old Mum. Yes, I was the oldest swimmer in the race. Even got a prize for it!
Truth be told, I am exaggerating for "literary effect" about how gruelling it was. Actually, it was enjoyable because I didn't let myself get tired. Switching strokes made all the difference and I had a great time out there, surrounded by beautiful mountains with the sun peeking up over them. With the amount of swimming I do, I better be able to handle 2K! But writing about it the way I have makes for a better read, don't you think?
The whole thing was a dream -- or was that a nightmare -- which I will always remember.
Maybe next year..............??????
What a nightmare! Daughter and I had just travelled more than a hundred kilometres in a hot car, with a not-quite-two-year-old in the baby seat and were stuck in a parking lot on the highway. Heck, people were turning their engines off and hauling out the lawn chairs! They apparently knew that when something happens on Hwy 63 from Radium Springs to Banff, you have no choice but to either settle in, or turn back. We did the latter and drove all the way back to Radium, where we turned right and headed to.........wait for it..........Golden, B.C! Golden is north about 110 klicks, then we had to turn right again and head back another 155 Ks south to Banff, bypassing the parking lot on 63, until we finally hooked up on the great Trans Canada #1 and made it home in only....eight.....hours!
Six hundred Ks later, I finally hit the garage. Whew! By the way, the gas gauge in my dear little Honda Civic was just under half-empty. Can you believe that!? My little friend used only half a $40-ish tank to travel all that way! Sorry about the exclamation points, but what other way can one describe such a dear, little loyal car. Back to Radium.
When we stopped there for the second time and told the waitress of our hideous saga, she sagely said, "Oh, when they say three-to-four hours, it means overnight. You were right to turn around and head for Golden." A few others in the place were very grateful to have overheard. We all headed for Golden.
All this was after my 7 a.m. registration and 8 a.m. swim out into the middle of big, huge, scary Lake Windermere. Have to say I was nervous -- no, make that a full-on anxiety attack. Couldn't use the wet suit I had borrowed because it wasn't really a "wet suit". It was an underwater dive suit that my daughter said would get waterlogged and become "a drowning machine". Oh is that all! So, I -- along with only two other teenagers -- did the swim in only a bathing suit. Looking at everyone in their gleaming black suits, perfect goggles, masks and caps, I felt a tad intimidated, but the water was absolutely perfect. Off I headed.
Very shortly I found myself alone, the rest of the pack of 12-year-olds having taken off in a hurry. Happily one of the spotter boats elected to stay with me. "Thanks for hanging back with me," I called. "No problem, take your time!" I did. Every time I looked at that god-forsaken orange buoy, it seemed to be moving farther away! S-it! Maybe that's the five-K marker, I speculated, stopping and treading water to focus. But no, it was the one I had to reach before turning around and heading home.
That orange ball became my "Wilson". Remember that stupid soccer ball Tom Hanks befriends in that dumb movie after his FedEx plane crashes? I related. I loved that buoy, then hated it. When would I reach that jerk "Wilson"? When I finally swam up to the dreaded florescent enemy I said, "Whew, it's over!" But no! Tempted to hang on, rest and relax for a while, I realized immediately I had to swim the whole effing way back! At that point, "Wilson # 2" leering from the beach seemed completely unreachable; so did that huge annoying "Finish" banner, which I could not make out for a long, long time.
After what seemed an eternity, I actually reached the shore. Staggering up, my equilibrium out-of-whack after being horizontal for so long, I stumbled through the sand to the finish line and handed in my chip. Daughter was busily videoing my arrival, so will post that later. I was very proud that she -- an uber athlete in her own right -- was so proud of her old Mum. Yes, I was the oldest swimmer in the race. Even got a prize for it!
Truth be told, I am exaggerating for "literary effect" about how gruelling it was. Actually, it was enjoyable because I didn't let myself get tired. Switching strokes made all the difference and I had a great time out there, surrounded by beautiful mountains with the sun peeking up over them. With the amount of swimming I do, I better be able to handle 2K! But writing about it the way I have makes for a better read, don't you think?
The whole thing was a dream -- or was that a nightmare -- which I will always remember.
Maybe next year..............??????
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Polo in Calgary
What an evening! Having never seen a polo match, it was quite a thrill to venture to the Calgary Polo Club and witness one. Actually, most of the ladies I sat with were drinking martinis, yakking and generally had no interest in the game, but I was enthralled. We were originally assigned a table off to the right, in the back, behind the....whatever, but after chatting with this and "who" during cocktails, found ourselves re-assigned and seated with the sponsor, his wife and a few other "luminaries". I had a great time boring them. They were an adorable couple, the husband having the most brilliant blue eyes I have ever seen.
The highlight of the evening was when one woman (a) asked me if I had had botox, and (b) guessed I was about 53. Whoa! Doesn't get better than that, girls.
Here are a few shots of the evening. Naturally, I had my picture taken shamelessly with the Argentinian team. They won.
Once again, you gotta "talk to a person", as my late, brilliant mother used to say.
The highlight of the evening was when one woman (a) asked me if I had had botox, and (b) guessed I was about 53. Whoa! Doesn't get better than that, girls.
Here are a few shots of the evening. Naturally, I had my picture taken shamelessly with the Argentinian team. They won.
Once again, you gotta "talk to a person", as my late, brilliant mother used to say.
Friday, August 9, 2013
A Cluster F.............
Tried the wet suit on, after ordering the size the store recommended and..........it didn't fit. By that time, every other size wasn't available, of course. They then jerry-rigged a man's petit and I tried that. Still didn't fit. With the average water temperature of Lake Windermere in August at 64 F, no way would I be able to swim two kilometres without a wet suit. And if the wind kicked up and brought deeper water to the surface............well, forget it altogether.
"The lake is very warm this year," said the bulletin from the organizers. What does that mean? Warm if you're wearing a wet suit? No wet suits required? I felt completely defeated. Until my swimming buddy, "L", offered to lend me one of hers. A seasoned deep-sea diver, she has a few so over I went this afternoon and tried them on. One fit like a glove!
Victory. I am now again ready to do my swim on Sunday. Can't wait.
Footnote: You can imagine the lecture I delivered the 12-year-old male sales clerks in the Tri store! "It might be a good idea if you told patrons to come into the store ahead of time to make sure the suit fits. It might also be a plan to have a few female staff around so women could try them on in the store, instead of having to make three futile trips down here. I mean, I am not going to have one of you guys in the changing room helping me." They agreed I was absolutely right, silently saying to themselves I am sure, "Why doesn't this bag just leave with her GD refund!"
Never mind, all's well that end's well.
"The lake is very warm this year," said the bulletin from the organizers. What does that mean? Warm if you're wearing a wet suit? No wet suits required? I felt completely defeated. Until my swimming buddy, "L", offered to lend me one of hers. A seasoned deep-sea diver, she has a few so over I went this afternoon and tried them on. One fit like a glove!
Victory. I am now again ready to do my swim on Sunday. Can't wait.
Footnote: You can imagine the lecture I delivered the 12-year-old male sales clerks in the Tri store! "It might be a good idea if you told patrons to come into the store ahead of time to make sure the suit fits. It might also be a plan to have a few female staff around so women could try them on in the store, instead of having to make three futile trips down here. I mean, I am not going to have one of you guys in the changing room helping me." They agreed I was absolutely right, silently saying to themselves I am sure, "Why doesn't this bag just leave with her GD refund!"
Never mind, all's well that end's well.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Whatever happened to an agenda?
Heard this 12-year-old woman interviewed about how to improve meetings. By the way, everyone is now 12 to me -- doctors, lifeguards, dentists..........they're all 12. She went on about planning them and having something to say......all completely obvious.
But she never mentioned the word "agenda", as in "you have to have one". I learned how essential they are early in my career, but B is the guy who perfected them for me. We met when I had to work for him on a conference. He wasn't my official boss, but he was for that conference. Every week the the committee met in his boardroom at the PCO after our regular work day had ended and he chaired these meetings with a perfect agenda, from which he allowed no one to deviate. If someone got off track, he would say, "Let's take that under 'other business'" and usually the ranter would forget about it by the time we got there.
"Other business, new business, old business"......all designed to keep people on track and make sure a meeting runs smoothly. The "expert" this morning didn't even mention them or the word "agenda" itself. It was ridiculous.
Their is a local restaurant we frequent -- the same one where a stranger paid for part of our order -- and their flowers are magnificent. Captured a few lovely images:
Picked up my wet suit this morning for my big open-water swim, coming up in Invermere this Sunday. Getting a tad nervous, especially about the mass start where everyone swims over everyone else. But it will certainly be an experience and create some great blog material.
But she never mentioned the word "agenda", as in "you have to have one". I learned how essential they are early in my career, but B is the guy who perfected them for me. We met when I had to work for him on a conference. He wasn't my official boss, but he was for that conference. Every week the the committee met in his boardroom at the PCO after our regular work day had ended and he chaired these meetings with a perfect agenda, from which he allowed no one to deviate. If someone got off track, he would say, "Let's take that under 'other business'" and usually the ranter would forget about it by the time we got there.
"Other business, new business, old business"......all designed to keep people on track and make sure a meeting runs smoothly. The "expert" this morning didn't even mention them or the word "agenda" itself. It was ridiculous.
Their is a local restaurant we frequent -- the same one where a stranger paid for part of our order -- and their flowers are magnificent. Captured a few lovely images:
Picked up my wet suit this morning for my big open-water swim, coming up in Invermere this Sunday. Getting a tad nervous, especially about the mass start where everyone swims over everyone else. But it will certainly be an experience and create some great blog material.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
A Rip-off
I don't care if it is only a penny, it's theft. The price was clearly marked "$4.99" in the deli section of the Co-Op grocery store. "Oh, we round up now," said the cashier, when I asked for my penny and she withheld it. What??!!
So, the bacon wasn't really $4.99, it was $5.00. Why does the sign say "$4.99", when it isn't. It just pissed me off and I'm going to speak to the manager the next time I am there.
So, the bacon wasn't really $4.99, it was $5.00. Why does the sign say "$4.99", when it isn't. It just pissed me off and I'm going to speak to the manager the next time I am there.
Friday, August 2, 2013
What!?!?
"The gentleman sitting behind you wanted to pay for part of your order," said our waitress at 'Joey Tomato' today. "What ??!!," I replied. "Why?" Apparently, he had told our waitress he thought we were a very nice couple and just wanted to pay for part of our lunch. We had been sitting at the bar and apparently he had noticed us.
Weird? Why? When she told us this, he had already left, so I didn't even find out who he had been. As usual, we were talking to the managers and waitresses as if they were our children, which they could have been. Perhaps he had noticed and.....and....what???? I have no clue why a perfect stranger would cover part of our bill?????
But that's what occurred. "Maybe he thought you were cute," said B. "No way," I replied, not having applied much makeup. Without a few important minutes with Estee Lauder, I am pretty ordinary.......ugly springs to mind.
So, another "moment" in Calgary.
Weird? Why? When she told us this, he had already left, so I didn't even find out who he had been. As usual, we were talking to the managers and waitresses as if they were our children, which they could have been. Perhaps he had noticed and.....and....what???? I have no clue why a perfect stranger would cover part of our bill?????
But that's what occurred. "Maybe he thought you were cute," said B. "No way," I replied, not having applied much makeup. Without a few important minutes with Estee Lauder, I am pretty ordinary.......ugly springs to mind.
So, another "moment" in Calgary.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Animal crackers in Canmore
Motored to Canmore for lunch today with two gals I swim with -- both a little better than I, so that tells you something because I fancy myself an excellent swimmer. The proof is they are always in the "fast" lane while I occupy the "medium". At least I moved a few years ago out of the "slow".
At any rate, we have "destination" lunches and laugh our sides off. Today it was off to Canmore. What a gorgeous town! Even after the floods, the village has been cleaned and bull-dozed and flowers bloom everywhere in huge pots. The tourists teem. Went to the 'Iron Goat', or as D kept calling it 'The Goat F--k'. "Hey," she called out the car window, rolling it down to accost a young uniformed sheriff walking along the street. Instead of saying, "Excuse me, officer," she yells "hey you". L and I nearly died. "Hey"? What a way to greet a peace officer! He started, turned and walked over to the window, where D began apologizing profusely for her gruff greeting. She tried to redeem herself by admiring his dimples. (They were adorable; he was about 12.) It worked.
We got directions. After a lovely lunch, admiring the vast mountains surrounding us, we wandered through an open market before heading back to Calgary. Here are a couple of snaps of a charming fellow I met in an arcade:
At any rate, we have "destination" lunches and laugh our sides off. Today it was off to Canmore. What a gorgeous town! Even after the floods, the village has been cleaned and bull-dozed and flowers bloom everywhere in huge pots. The tourists teem. Went to the 'Iron Goat', or as D kept calling it 'The Goat F--k'. "Hey," she called out the car window, rolling it down to accost a young uniformed sheriff walking along the street. Instead of saying, "Excuse me, officer," she yells "hey you". L and I nearly died. "Hey"? What a way to greet a peace officer! He started, turned and walked over to the window, where D began apologizing profusely for her gruff greeting. She tried to redeem herself by admiring his dimples. (They were adorable; he was about 12.) It worked.
We got directions. After a lovely lunch, admiring the vast mountains surrounding us, we wandered through an open market before heading back to Calgary. Here are a couple of snaps of a charming fellow I met in an arcade:
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| This stuffed guy wasn't in a glass case, just hanging out in the throughway. All the sign said was, "Do not touch". Wonder how many people obey that?!
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