Friday, February 28, 2014
Fat and fatter
Every time someone walked to the washroom on the plane, they had to wait and since we were in row 1, I had the pleasure of staring at one fat ass after another. I swear I don't know how they fit into a regular seat?! We were on our way to Palm Springs to escape some very dire weather in Calgary.
Once here, I started to see why Americans are so fat. They eat too much! The portions are ridiculous. We have taken to ordering one dish and spliting it and even then...... But the weather is glorious. I plan on taking every hokey tour on offer -- Frank Sinatra's house, Dinah Shore's, Bob Hope -- even Gerald Ford's. All the roads are named after dead stars, we are staying on Dinah Shore Boulevard. I feel right at home, what with a ton of Canada geese lounging all over the golf course we are located beside. The place is also rife with ducks who join us every day on our balcony.
Lots of Mexicans here, they do most of the work so the Americans can spend all their time eating....and eating....and eating....The pool I have to use is so small I have to do 100 laps to get my usual 50 in. People stare at me as if I am insane -- maybe I am!
Hit a GIGANTIC Walmart yesterday to stock up on stuff for the room. Thought I was seeing things when I walked past a promotion for wine. Pinot Grigio for, wait for it....$1.97 a bottle! It was crazy. We do get hit hard in Canada when it comes to booze. We are going to the Indian Wells Tennis Tournament for a few days next week. All the major stars will be there, but for some reason it is not really covered.
Well, more news later......
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Move on
A bunch of "natives" from the Attawapiskat Reserve walked 1,700 Ks to Ottawa and were very disheartened that no one was at Parliament Hill to greet them. Not even Shawn Atleo, one of "them. No native leaders gave a damn.
"We were walking in our fathers' footsteps, as their forbearers did, in our land and all we wanted was a round table with the Prime Minister," said the leader -- a colleague of disgraced Chief Teresa Spence -- when interviewed on 'As it Happens' this evening.
Please.
Get over the past, move into the "now" and get on with it. Why are you still living on a moribund reserve in poverty and expecting something to change? If nothing changes, nothing changes. It's so outrageous when you consider all the money poured into that reserve and yet they are still unhappy and wanting..........what?? More?? Ask Chief Spence where the money she receives goes.
No one hunts and traps anymore. Get over yourselves. No one lives in teepees. Get over yourselves. The past is gone. Move forward. Help your children. Don't condemn them to a life of poverty and kaft dinner on a useless reserve.
It's all so irrelevant.
"We were walking in our fathers' footsteps, as their forbearers did, in our land and all we wanted was a round table with the Prime Minister," said the leader -- a colleague of disgraced Chief Teresa Spence -- when interviewed on 'As it Happens' this evening.
Please.
Get over the past, move into the "now" and get on with it. Why are you still living on a moribund reserve in poverty and expecting something to change? If nothing changes, nothing changes. It's so outrageous when you consider all the money poured into that reserve and yet they are still unhappy and wanting..........what?? More?? Ask Chief Spence where the money she receives goes.
No one hunts and traps anymore. Get over yourselves. No one lives in teepees. Get over yourselves. The past is gone. Move forward. Help your children. Don't condemn them to a life of poverty and kaft dinner on a useless reserve.
It's all so irrelevant.
Don't
Ever watched 'My Six-Hundred Pound Life'? Don't. Just watched a little a few minutes ago, sadly. It is about disgusting people who can't stop eating. Sorry, no sympathy there whatsoever.
Having spent the morning cleaning my house, B suggested we go out for pizza. Great idea. Sitting there I gazed at the table next to us, where a young woman, about 25, could not stop eating. She was with three male co-workers and they were sharing plates. Guess who chomped the most? Already bulging out of her clothes, she was apparently determined to get bigger. She would put her knife and fork in the "finished" position, only to pick it up again and grab more. I found it disgusting.
Give her a few years and she may be the next feature on the TV program I just watched.
Having spent the morning cleaning my house, B suggested we go out for pizza. Great idea. Sitting there I gazed at the table next to us, where a young woman, about 25, could not stop eating. She was with three male co-workers and they were sharing plates. Guess who chomped the most? Already bulging out of her clothes, she was apparently determined to get bigger. She would put her knife and fork in the "finished" position, only to pick it up again and grab more. I found it disgusting.
Give her a few years and she may be the next feature on the TV program I just watched.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Shame
American network coverage of the Olympics was....well....American. Typically, if the event didn't feature an American, it wasn't covered. And if an American got bronze, no mention was made of who won silver and gold. It was pathetic, but typical.
Herald columnist Karin Klassen wrote an excellent piece today about the egomaniacal Americans and pointed out that NBC chose to cover the birthday party of Kathy Lee Gifford's son instead of the Canada/US hockey game. Kathy Lee Gifford, for G-d's sake -- a first-class loser if ever there was one.
I was proud of the CBC and its coverage. We covered everything and did so in a very fair and "Canadian" manner. Good on us.
Herald columnist Karin Klassen wrote an excellent piece today about the egomaniacal Americans and pointed out that NBC chose to cover the birthday party of Kathy Lee Gifford's son instead of the Canada/US hockey game. Kathy Lee Gifford, for G-d's sake -- a first-class loser if ever there was one.
I was proud of the CBC and its coverage. We covered everything and did so in a very fair and "Canadian" manner. Good on us.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Once
That's all we went and yet were invited to a special afternoon of music, wine and food at 'The Bear's Den' today. Frankly, I was surprised to have been invited because we are not regular patrons. Every time I drive to Cochrane, about three times a week, I pass this famous restaurant but until about a month ago had not frequented.
When we did I was quite impressed. Steak tartar was on the menu, naturally I ordered it. Then I chatted up the waitress and the manager and bored them stiff as we enjoyed our meal. Maybe they thought I would be the perfect boring guest this afternoon, hence we were invited? In any case, it was one of the more pleasant afternoons I have spent. Met head chef, John, and told him how crappy the steak tartar was at "Notable", a tony Bowness restaurant run by snooty Michael Noble. "He doesn't use tenderloin," I said. "How can that be steak tartar?" It can't, he agreed. This afternoon we enjoyed champagne and wonderful wines, as well as risotto, roast beef and yorkshire, many varieties of cured meats, veggies, fruits, skewers of Cornish hen, shrimp, smoked salmon and oysters on the half shell. The whole event was superb.
Spotting a young woman with gorgeous red heels, I decided to chat. "I love shoes," she said. "So do I," I replied. We launched into a talk about how shoes make the outfit, etc......"I went to a party at Christmas and was asked to take off my shoes," she told me. Whaaaaat??!! Never. We both lamented the crappy dress of so many Calgarians. I am sure I spotted 15 brands of ugly jeans this afternoon -- and this at a very classy restaurant.
And don't even get me started on the hideous footwear the majority of women were wearing. Absolutely gruesome.
I have given up worrying about being over-dressed in Calgary. Wore my gorgeous Chinese silk jacket (see blog of November 5th, 2010, "Marvin Gaye and Chinatown"). I am always over-dressed -- or is that appropriately?
When we did I was quite impressed. Steak tartar was on the menu, naturally I ordered it. Then I chatted up the waitress and the manager and bored them stiff as we enjoyed our meal. Maybe they thought I would be the perfect boring guest this afternoon, hence we were invited? In any case, it was one of the more pleasant afternoons I have spent. Met head chef, John, and told him how crappy the steak tartar was at "Notable", a tony Bowness restaurant run by snooty Michael Noble. "He doesn't use tenderloin," I said. "How can that be steak tartar?" It can't, he agreed. This afternoon we enjoyed champagne and wonderful wines, as well as risotto, roast beef and yorkshire, many varieties of cured meats, veggies, fruits, skewers of Cornish hen, shrimp, smoked salmon and oysters on the half shell. The whole event was superb.
Spotting a young woman with gorgeous red heels, I decided to chat. "I love shoes," she said. "So do I," I replied. We launched into a talk about how shoes make the outfit, etc......"I went to a party at Christmas and was asked to take off my shoes," she told me. Whaaaaat??!! Never. We both lamented the crappy dress of so many Calgarians. I am sure I spotted 15 brands of ugly jeans this afternoon -- and this at a very classy restaurant.
And don't even get me started on the hideous footwear the majority of women were wearing. Absolutely gruesome.
I have given up worrying about being over-dressed in Calgary. Wore my gorgeous Chinese silk jacket (see blog of November 5th, 2010, "Marvin Gaye and Chinatown"). I am always over-dressed -- or is that appropriately?
Thursday, February 20, 2014
We are our hair
Whoa, I said to myself as I looked at Christie Blatchford's new hairdo in her byline photo. I have known Blatchford for 44 years, but she doesn't know I know her, of course.
Working at Maclean-Hunter in the early seventies, I chaired a conference -- why I don't know because I was about "12" -- and asked her to participate in a panel discussion entitled, "Why Women do it Better". I was referring to getting the intimate, gritty interview that Blatchford always secured back then and still does. She talked about getting people to confide in her -- especially men -- and I could relate to that. Although I worked in the business press section of M-H, I did manage to get some pretty good interviews with industry leaders and I wrote a few decent features. Was it gender tension on the part of my male subjects who might have been attracted to a young woman such as I? I don't know, but I used it shamelessly to my advantage because women had so many professional disadvantages at the time. If you watch 'Mad Men', that was M-H when I worked there.
Thus, I have followed Christie for many, many years. She's still in the game, I opted to go over to the "dark" side to make more money in private sector PR. Eventually I moved back to Ottawa (marital stuff) and became a speech writer for many politicians and Ministers of the Crown. Didn't care about politics, just give me the money and I'd write for anyone.
Christie has been wasting her talent for the past few years covering criminal trials, but she is in Sochi and has written some pretty good human interest pieces. She always takes an odd angle and gets at the personalities of the players. But I focussed on her new hairdo the other day. I hate it. It's a flat black bob -- never flattering when you are our age. What is she thinking? She does not seem to be aging gracefully, in my never-to-be-humble opinion.
As I have always maintained, good, bad or ugly, women are their hair.
Working at Maclean-Hunter in the early seventies, I chaired a conference -- why I don't know because I was about "12" -- and asked her to participate in a panel discussion entitled, "Why Women do it Better". I was referring to getting the intimate, gritty interview that Blatchford always secured back then and still does. She talked about getting people to confide in her -- especially men -- and I could relate to that. Although I worked in the business press section of M-H, I did manage to get some pretty good interviews with industry leaders and I wrote a few decent features. Was it gender tension on the part of my male subjects who might have been attracted to a young woman such as I? I don't know, but I used it shamelessly to my advantage because women had so many professional disadvantages at the time. If you watch 'Mad Men', that was M-H when I worked there.
Thus, I have followed Christie for many, many years. She's still in the game, I opted to go over to the "dark" side to make more money in private sector PR. Eventually I moved back to Ottawa (marital stuff) and became a speech writer for many politicians and Ministers of the Crown. Didn't care about politics, just give me the money and I'd write for anyone.
Christie has been wasting her talent for the past few years covering criminal trials, but she is in Sochi and has written some pretty good human interest pieces. She always takes an odd angle and gets at the personalities of the players. But I focussed on her new hairdo the other day. I hate it. It's a flat black bob -- never flattering when you are our age. What is she thinking? She does not seem to be aging gracefully, in my never-to-be-humble opinion.
As I have always maintained, good, bad or ugly, women are their hair.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Cultural fun
The food was delicious. Went with my friend "K" for dim sum in Chinatown today. I had not eaten authentic dim sum in Calgary, but Dr. K knew exactly where to go for the best. The place was packed with generations of families, as many Chinese restaurants are on Sundays and holidays.
We talked about how it was for her to arrive in Canada age 12. "Do you feel Chinese or Canadian?" I asked. "I kind'a feel in the middle," she replied. We also talked about the vastly different cultural norms between Chinese and Canadian families. Canadian-born grandparents generally don't look after grandchildren all-day-every-day; once or twice a week is lots, thank you. Chinese grandparents? All-day-every-day is normal. "I want you to promise never to take me in to live with you if I get sick," said my mother about 10 years before she died. "You know how difficult it was with mother," she added, talking about the fact that her parents lived with one of my aunts.
Heck, I didn't know it was difficult? I thought it was great having grandma and grandpa around all the time -- she of the always-full-of-candy purse. She spoiled us beautifully. We all adored grandma Stapledon.
I am grateful for the wonderful women I have met at the Y, Dr. K being one of them. A reader of my blog, she said, "I can't really figure you out? Just when I think I know how you think, you completely throw me off," she laughed. "You know K, I am traditional, but not conventional." "That's exactly it," she replied.
We talked about how it was for her to arrive in Canada age 12. "Do you feel Chinese or Canadian?" I asked. "I kind'a feel in the middle," she replied. We also talked about the vastly different cultural norms between Chinese and Canadian families. Canadian-born grandparents generally don't look after grandchildren all-day-every-day; once or twice a week is lots, thank you. Chinese grandparents? All-day-every-day is normal. "I want you to promise never to take me in to live with you if I get sick," said my mother about 10 years before she died. "You know how difficult it was with mother," she added, talking about the fact that her parents lived with one of my aunts.
Heck, I didn't know it was difficult? I thought it was great having grandma and grandpa around all the time -- she of the always-full-of-candy purse. She spoiled us beautifully. We all adored grandma Stapledon.
I am grateful for the wonderful women I have met at the Y, Dr. K being one of them. A reader of my blog, she said, "I can't really figure you out? Just when I think I know how you think, you completely throw me off," she laughed. "You know K, I am traditional, but not conventional." "That's exactly it," she replied.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Another
"A lawyer, which firm do you work for?" I asked the woman seated next to me at a Valentine's Day dinner last evening at the beautiful old Palliser Hotel last evening. "Oh, I have never worked, I am a stay-at-home mum," this 40-ish woman replied. "So, you're not really a lawyer," I added. She didn't have a reply, just looked embarrassed.
What a waste.....of a lot of things. The seat she took up in law school for nothing, the money someone else forked out for her degree.........you name it, she wasted it.
Why do women do this? Why do they get degrees and do nothing with them? We worked so hard in the sixties for our right to be whatever we wanted in the workplace, only to have some women in the next generation reject it all and become "their mothers". Don't get me wrong, I adored my mother, but she wasn't given the advantages she insisted I have. She and her ilk had to quit their jobs and stay at home when they married. That was their lot, period, the end. It was akin to saying all men must be truck drivers........or whatever. All women had to have the same job: stay-at-home wives and mothers.
I would not stand for it and yet a whole generation of privileged younger women have decided to toss their degrees into the trash and hang around the kitchen and school yard. I just don't get it. The woman I talked to last evening was full of regret. Her kids were off to university and she was in the process of.......doing......nothing. Her husband treated her like an appendage in service, while he jetted around the world doing "oil stuff", not to mention other women. Sadly, society accords her no respect because -- unlike my mother's generation -- she had choices and chose to drop out. Is it laziness? Is it because her husband made a ton of money? Don't tell me you're "a lawyer" when you have chosen to sit on the sofa and hit the gym for the past 20 years.
Listen girls, don't betray us. We are the women who worked so, so hard so you could have careers. But if you do opt to be a stay-at-home whatever, don't bother getting a degree. For those of you who do get a degree, I urge you to stay in the workplace, make your own money, have the benefit of making your own choices. Never depend upon a man to keep you. It's degrading.
What a waste.....of a lot of things. The seat she took up in law school for nothing, the money someone else forked out for her degree.........you name it, she wasted it.
Why do women do this? Why do they get degrees and do nothing with them? We worked so hard in the sixties for our right to be whatever we wanted in the workplace, only to have some women in the next generation reject it all and become "their mothers". Don't get me wrong, I adored my mother, but she wasn't given the advantages she insisted I have. She and her ilk had to quit their jobs and stay at home when they married. That was their lot, period, the end. It was akin to saying all men must be truck drivers........or whatever. All women had to have the same job: stay-at-home wives and mothers.
I would not stand for it and yet a whole generation of privileged younger women have decided to toss their degrees into the trash and hang around the kitchen and school yard. I just don't get it. The woman I talked to last evening was full of regret. Her kids were off to university and she was in the process of.......doing......nothing. Her husband treated her like an appendage in service, while he jetted around the world doing "oil stuff", not to mention other women. Sadly, society accords her no respect because -- unlike my mother's generation -- she had choices and chose to drop out. Is it laziness? Is it because her husband made a ton of money? Don't tell me you're "a lawyer" when you have chosen to sit on the sofa and hit the gym for the past 20 years.
Listen girls, don't betray us. We are the women who worked so, so hard so you could have careers. But if you do opt to be a stay-at-home whatever, don't bother getting a degree. For those of you who do get a degree, I urge you to stay in the workplace, make your own money, have the benefit of making your own choices. Never depend upon a man to keep you. It's degrading.
A real "native" Canadian
Just read the obituary of Edmond Joly-de-Lotbiniere.* Now here was a real "native" Canadian. The de Lotbiniere's were granted one of the first seigneuries in Canada, whereby immigrant French nobility were allotted huge tracts of land running up from the St. Lawrence river into what is now Quebec (then Lower Canada). This seigneury was given to Rene-Louis Chartier de Lotbiniere in 1672 by Jean Talon, the Intendant of King Louis XIV, and remained in the family until 1967, at which time it was acquired by the Quebec government.
Edmond served in the Royal Canadian Navy, various Canadian embassies, GGs Vincent Massey, Georges Vanier, Jules Leger and Ed Schreyer. He was also, by the way, appointed "Extraordinary Gentleman Usher", by command of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
I went to school with Suzanne de Lotbiniere-Panet, a lovely girl with a charmingly shy smile who married a very boring , but prominent, Ottawa lawyer.**
So, to all pretentious indigenous Canadians I say, "get real".
___________________________________________
* Sorry, can't find the accent keys on my computer.
** Once asked "TM" to dance at a golf club Christmas party in Ottawa. He didn't even stand up as I approached their table. "How rude," I muttered as I walked away to the eternal mortification of Suzanne.
Edmond served in the Royal Canadian Navy, various Canadian embassies, GGs Vincent Massey, Georges Vanier, Jules Leger and Ed Schreyer. He was also, by the way, appointed "Extraordinary Gentleman Usher", by command of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
I went to school with Suzanne de Lotbiniere-Panet, a lovely girl with a charmingly shy smile who married a very boring , but prominent, Ottawa lawyer.**
So, to all pretentious indigenous Canadians I say, "get real".
___________________________________________
* Sorry, can't find the accent keys on my computer.
** Once asked "TM" to dance at a golf club Christmas party in Ottawa. He didn't even stand up as I approached their table. "How rude," I muttered as I walked away to the eternal mortification of Suzanne.
Friday, February 14, 2014
A spelling bee
How do you spell "politics"? M-O-N-E-Y, that's how. Symbiotic and interchangeable, money is politics and politics is money -- a sort of chicken-and-egg relationship.
This is obvious by Pauline Marois' latest move. By appealing to Big Oil to relocate in Quebec and start taking advantage of the "vast" undeveloped oil and gas resources to be found off-shore, Marois is trying to fill Quebec's coffers so she can fund her lunatic drive for separation.
Except that it won't happen for many reasons. A) the oil companies have no interest in dealing with that harridan and her crazy ideas, and B) the Indians have no intention of supporting separatism because guess from whose accounts they currently get their money? The Feds via the Indian Act, that's who. If Quebec were to separate, which it won't, Indian nations and tribes would find themselves straddling provinces -- and even countries -- with those trapped in Quebec abandoned by Ottawa and its legally-binding largesse. Do you actually think the Indians would go for this arrangement and willingly forfeit the Indian Act in favour of something Marois and her posse of thieves might dream up?
As if. The Indians, who never agree to anything, are the wild cards in Marois' plan. Remember Elijah Harper, chief of the Red Sucker Lake Band, elected to the Manitoba Assembly in 1981? He was the lone guy who waved his eagle feather in protest against the 1990 Meech Lake Accord and single-handedly managed to scuttle all attempts to have Quebec sign the amendment that would have ensured Quebec's signing on to the 1982 Constitution Act.
One Indian against Quebec. See, that's how it works. Harper's defiance and power defeated an entire country. Quebec has yet to sign on to Canada. Marois might want to channel the late Elijah Harper as she futilely plods her meaningless way to separation.
You may covet money Pauline, but it's all still politics.
This is obvious by Pauline Marois' latest move. By appealing to Big Oil to relocate in Quebec and start taking advantage of the "vast" undeveloped oil and gas resources to be found off-shore, Marois is trying to fill Quebec's coffers so she can fund her lunatic drive for separation.
Except that it won't happen for many reasons. A) the oil companies have no interest in dealing with that harridan and her crazy ideas, and B) the Indians have no intention of supporting separatism because guess from whose accounts they currently get their money? The Feds via the Indian Act, that's who. If Quebec were to separate, which it won't, Indian nations and tribes would find themselves straddling provinces -- and even countries -- with those trapped in Quebec abandoned by Ottawa and its legally-binding largesse. Do you actually think the Indians would go for this arrangement and willingly forfeit the Indian Act in favour of something Marois and her posse of thieves might dream up?
As if. The Indians, who never agree to anything, are the wild cards in Marois' plan. Remember Elijah Harper, chief of the Red Sucker Lake Band, elected to the Manitoba Assembly in 1981? He was the lone guy who waved his eagle feather in protest against the 1990 Meech Lake Accord and single-handedly managed to scuttle all attempts to have Quebec sign the amendment that would have ensured Quebec's signing on to the 1982 Constitution Act.
One Indian against Quebec. See, that's how it works. Harper's defiance and power defeated an entire country. Quebec has yet to sign on to Canada. Marois might want to channel the late Elijah Harper as she futilely plods her meaningless way to separation.
You may covet money Pauline, but it's all still politics.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
No surprise there
So years of testing have confirmed that native North Americans are descended from Asians. Didn't we all know that already? They arrived here when there was a land bridge between Asia and North America.
The remains of a one-year-old infant, buried 12,600 years ago in Montana and dug up in 1968, prove that the genetic legacy of the "Clovis" people is Asian. In fact, 80 percent of Indians are direct descendants or distant cousins of these people. Duh, the only question is why it took more than 40 years to prove it.
So, as I have always believed, "native" Canadians are no more "native" than the rest of us. They didn't poof down from outer space, they just got here earlier. Depending upon your beliefs, human evolution began in Africa or The Garden of Eden, not North America. If you use the dictionary description of "native", i.e., indigenous, born in the country in which they live, all Canadian-born people are "native" -- either that or none of us is.
Speaking of "natives", Shawn Atleo is at it again, demanding every sheet of the millions of records of residential schools be released. To what end?? Gotta be about money, more people to sue, more publicity......it never stops. Can't Atleo and his gang get on with it? Can't they move forward for once instead of reaching back to see what money up for grabs might remain on the table? I mean, who is still alive who actually attended residential schools? Today it's mainly kids and grandkids dining out on inherited misery.
All this must be to take the spotlight off the fact that Harper has just handed them a couple of billion to improve education for "natives". The PM has just turned the whole mess over to the provinces, which are responsible for education, telling the "natives" they must develop curricula that meets provincial standards. Good luck with that.
The remains of a one-year-old infant, buried 12,600 years ago in Montana and dug up in 1968, prove that the genetic legacy of the "Clovis" people is Asian. In fact, 80 percent of Indians are direct descendants or distant cousins of these people. Duh, the only question is why it took more than 40 years to prove it.
So, as I have always believed, "native" Canadians are no more "native" than the rest of us. They didn't poof down from outer space, they just got here earlier. Depending upon your beliefs, human evolution began in Africa or The Garden of Eden, not North America. If you use the dictionary description of "native", i.e., indigenous, born in the country in which they live, all Canadian-born people are "native" -- either that or none of us is.
Speaking of "natives", Shawn Atleo is at it again, demanding every sheet of the millions of records of residential schools be released. To what end?? Gotta be about money, more people to sue, more publicity......it never stops. Can't Atleo and his gang get on with it? Can't they move forward for once instead of reaching back to see what money up for grabs might remain on the table? I mean, who is still alive who actually attended residential schools? Today it's mainly kids and grandkids dining out on inherited misery.
All this must be to take the spotlight off the fact that Harper has just handed them a couple of billion to improve education for "natives". The PM has just turned the whole mess over to the provinces, which are responsible for education, telling the "natives" they must develop curricula that meets provincial standards. Good luck with that.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
A complete reversal
So now we find out that mammograms and early screening make no difference in the diagnosis and survival of women with breast cancer. I could have told you that. I firmly believe you're either going to get it, or you're not. I think it's primarily genetic.
Before I suffered through one last year, I hadn't had a mammogram for 25 years, but knew I didn't have breast cancer. The other thing that helps is nursing your children for many months -- although when I offered that theory to my doctor, she said....."if you're going to get it, you're going to get it. Nursing doesn't help".
So there you have it. Another example of a women's health issue that gets inconsistent and unreliable attention. Now, if we were talking about prostate cancer..............!
Before I suffered through one last year, I hadn't had a mammogram for 25 years, but knew I didn't have breast cancer. The other thing that helps is nursing your children for many months -- although when I offered that theory to my doctor, she said....."if you're going to get it, you're going to get it. Nursing doesn't help".
So there you have it. Another example of a women's health issue that gets inconsistent and unreliable attention. Now, if we were talking about prostate cancer..............!
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Beefy
Watching 'Sister Wives' -- against my better judgement, I know -- I am amazed at how fat all the wives are except Robyn. And the kids! All fatties in their teens, a sin. Can't wait for wife numero uno, Meri, to decide a new wife is in order. That will knock little Robyn off her pedestal when Kody starts courting wife number five. It's just a matter of time, trust me.
Also watched 'Tessa and Scott' and the juxtaposition between the fat wives and kids and the super-in-shape skaters is blinding. I mean, if you're that fat at 17, what will you be like at my age after a few kids!?
I have a sneaking suspicion that Tessa is in love with Scott, but he has a girlfriend so it's very awkward. I think he could also be in love with Tessa, but it's all so weird. One thing is clear, she's a lot nicer than he.
Also watched 'Tessa and Scott' and the juxtaposition between the fat wives and kids and the super-in-shape skaters is blinding. I mean, if you're that fat at 17, what will you be like at my age after a few kids!?
I have a sneaking suspicion that Tessa is in love with Scott, but he has a girlfriend so it's very awkward. I think he could also be in love with Tessa, but it's all so weird. One thing is clear, she's a lot nicer than he.
Page 500
Had to slog through 500 pages of a biography of Mick Jagger to finally get to what I was interested in, his personal life. That only left 100 pages of juicy material, which wasn't even that juicy. Remind me not to buy "unauthorized" biographies.
Keith Richards' autobiography told me more about Jagger than this book did. Pages and pages of descriptions of songs, instruments and who sang what are pretty boring. The man has had his share of women, bedding them constantly and in the process fathering about eight children. Didn't know he had his first daughter with some backup singer, but refused to admit he was the father, withholding child support for years until she finally proved his paternity. That's a jerk thing to do.
What comes through is that Jagger is really a bit of a prude and very, very conservative. Happily, these traits saved him from the excesses that ruined so many other rock stars and turned his band mates into multi-millionaires.
Not a bad read, but much of it skip-able.
Keith Richards' autobiography told me more about Jagger than this book did. Pages and pages of descriptions of songs, instruments and who sang what are pretty boring. The man has had his share of women, bedding them constantly and in the process fathering about eight children. Didn't know he had his first daughter with some backup singer, but refused to admit he was the father, withholding child support for years until she finally proved his paternity. That's a jerk thing to do.
What comes through is that Jagger is really a bit of a prude and very, very conservative. Happily, these traits saved him from the excesses that ruined so many other rock stars and turned his band mates into multi-millionaires.
Not a bad read, but much of it skip-able.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Farewell
We lost one of the good guys this week. Philip Clarke, someone with whom I worked at CRA, left us far, far too early. He was only 48, but had a genetic form of lung cancer from which he had no hope of recovering. He has left a wife and three children bereft. So, so sad. I wrote a blog about our last conversation, (see "Devastating", April 18, 2013) I knew it would be the last time we spoke and I was so upset.
Reading the online tributes from other colleagues, I spotted one by an ex-boss, Sue Wormington. My mind drifted back to those nightmare years when I had to work for her. She ranked at the top of the nit-pickers. A peerless academy award winner in that category for sure! The bureaucrat's bureaucrat. A frothing clock-watcher and dimwit, all rolled into one dummie. The type who pulls your official personnel file to spy on you. She started prying into my personal life when she read my name had been "Nancy Russell" at one point, but got no where.
Ya know, I am a writer, have been one all my career. I would write trip reports, send them to Miss Know-It-All and there they would languish for weeks and weeks, while she red-pencilled them to death. The field never received the reports, sitting in her in-basket as they did gathering dust. I finally resorted to sending the field "drafts" so we could at least get on with the work while Ms. Wormington sharpened her red pencils.
Ah envy. Put me in mind of a couple of other female managers I had to endure. Monica Jones-Kisil* and Dianne Gesior spring to mind. What a pair! For some reason, women seem to think that if they are your boss they must, by definition, be smarter. No. They are not. Instead of being grateful they had an experienced woman working for them, Monica and Dianne nit-picked me to death. I remember when Dianne landed on me a couple of dismal years before I retired. She called me in and started. "You know what Dianne? F off and when you have effed off, F off again. Don't talk to me for two years," I said. "I make more money than you and you can't fire me. My program is running like a top in the field, so don't talk to me ever again." The look on her face was worth the price of admission.
She still decided to barge in on my program. "I'd like to be on one of your conference calls," she whined. "Perfect," I said. The next one I held with the field was with the Shawinigan Tax Centre and it was completely in French, a language she could never master. That was the end of that. It disgusts me that so many English managers such as Dianne, Monica and Sue waste taxpayers' money not learning French.
Rest in peace, dear Philip. You were a prince.
_________________________________
Note: Could never figure out why this person hyphenated her name? I mean, it's not like her maiden name was "Windsor", which would have been a good reason to have kept it. No, it was "Jones". Who cares? I guess now that she's dumped her "Kisil" husband, she can drop that part.
Readers should know that my hyphenated last name is all my husband's. My maiden name was "Griffith", which is why I use it on facebook to get around the fact that women disappear when they marry and take on their husband's name.
Reading the online tributes from other colleagues, I spotted one by an ex-boss, Sue Wormington. My mind drifted back to those nightmare years when I had to work for her. She ranked at the top of the nit-pickers. A peerless academy award winner in that category for sure! The bureaucrat's bureaucrat. A frothing clock-watcher and dimwit, all rolled into one dummie. The type who pulls your official personnel file to spy on you. She started prying into my personal life when she read my name had been "Nancy Russell" at one point, but got no where.
Ya know, I am a writer, have been one all my career. I would write trip reports, send them to Miss Know-It-All and there they would languish for weeks and weeks, while she red-pencilled them to death. The field never received the reports, sitting in her in-basket as they did gathering dust. I finally resorted to sending the field "drafts" so we could at least get on with the work while Ms. Wormington sharpened her red pencils.
Ah envy. Put me in mind of a couple of other female managers I had to endure. Monica Jones-Kisil* and Dianne Gesior spring to mind. What a pair! For some reason, women seem to think that if they are your boss they must, by definition, be smarter. No. They are not. Instead of being grateful they had an experienced woman working for them, Monica and Dianne nit-picked me to death. I remember when Dianne landed on me a couple of dismal years before I retired. She called me in and started. "You know what Dianne? F off and when you have effed off, F off again. Don't talk to me for two years," I said. "I make more money than you and you can't fire me. My program is running like a top in the field, so don't talk to me ever again." The look on her face was worth the price of admission.
She still decided to barge in on my program. "I'd like to be on one of your conference calls," she whined. "Perfect," I said. The next one I held with the field was with the Shawinigan Tax Centre and it was completely in French, a language she could never master. That was the end of that. It disgusts me that so many English managers such as Dianne, Monica and Sue waste taxpayers' money not learning French.
Rest in peace, dear Philip. You were a prince.
_________________________________
Note: Could never figure out why this person hyphenated her name? I mean, it's not like her maiden name was "Windsor", which would have been a good reason to have kept it. No, it was "Jones". Who cares? I guess now that she's dumped her "Kisil" husband, she can drop that part.
Readers should know that my hyphenated last name is all my husband's. My maiden name was "Griffith", which is why I use it on facebook to get around the fact that women disappear when they marry and take on their husband's name.
Tick tock tick tock
The heartbeat of the home is back. My wall clock is again beating and rendering our home "human". I had not realized how central it was to my well-being until I had to live without it for several weeks. I bought it at an Ottawa Valley auction about 25 years ago and mounted it on an antique clock shelf in the living room of our then-house. And there it stood and ticked......forever.........until it didn't.
Rumaging around the internet, I found a Chinese clock guy and took it in -- along with about 10 old-fashioned wind watches, which had also stopped working. $1,600 later, they are all back in fine fettle. Today's battery watches have nothing on my beautiful clock and its ticking cousins. One of my most prized is my great-grandfather's Waltham railway pocket watch, which I wear as a pendant. An American, my great-grandfather toted around the likes of Buffalo Bill and his troupe. He also knew Frank and Jesse James, so I still have one foot in the Wild West when I wear this beautiful timepiece.
Speaking of time passing, yesterday was the 50th anniversary of The Beatles first appearance in North America. I remember it as if it were yesterday. "Hey man, want to play a set with us," said a very young George Harrison in Liverpool's Cavern Club to B back in 1961. He was visiting family and his cousins, being gorgeous BOAC stewardesses, were seated at the group's table. 'The Quarrymen', as they were then known, were missing a drummer for the last set, Pete Best having become a tad too "over-refreshed" to play. "Why not?!" says B and up he gets and plays. A couple of years later, hearing them on radio in Montreal, he says, "hey, I know those guys."
The rest is history...for all of us. Just think, if B had become The Beatles drummer.......mmmmmm??
Rumaging around the internet, I found a Chinese clock guy and took it in -- along with about 10 old-fashioned wind watches, which had also stopped working. $1,600 later, they are all back in fine fettle. Today's battery watches have nothing on my beautiful clock and its ticking cousins. One of my most prized is my great-grandfather's Waltham railway pocket watch, which I wear as a pendant. An American, my great-grandfather toted around the likes of Buffalo Bill and his troupe. He also knew Frank and Jesse James, so I still have one foot in the Wild West when I wear this beautiful timepiece.
Speaking of time passing, yesterday was the 50th anniversary of The Beatles first appearance in North America. I remember it as if it were yesterday. "Hey man, want to play a set with us," said a very young George Harrison in Liverpool's Cavern Club to B back in 1961. He was visiting family and his cousins, being gorgeous BOAC stewardesses, were seated at the group's table. 'The Quarrymen', as they were then known, were missing a drummer for the last set, Pete Best having become a tad too "over-refreshed" to play. "Why not?!" says B and up he gets and plays. A couple of years later, hearing them on radio in Montreal, he says, "hey, I know those guys."
The rest is history...for all of us. Just think, if B had become The Beatles drummer.......mmmmmm??
Thursday, February 6, 2014
A few lessons we can all learn
"It's better to keep your mouth shut and be thought stupid than open it and have it confirmed." So said B's grandfather. "Don't argue the toss," was another of his maxims, also brilliant.
How many of us do either? Often delusional and thinking myself witty and entertaining, I adhere more often to the former bit of advice than the latter. I do recall staying mostly silent in meetings when I first joined the ranks of the Canada Revenue Agency from Customs and Excise -- especially when I encountered the likes of "FHL", someone with impeccable technical knowledge. Ignorant of "income tax stuff", I was grateful merely to take notes while my colleagues explained how it all worked.
Too bad some family members don't take such wise grandfatherly advice to heart. Some step-children hang onto divorce myths for years and years, spewing them into the long-suffering ear of a worn-out and too-patient parent. Do they actually think the parent will be swayed by the recounting of one of the many fictional movies they are directing in their own heads? The I-remember-when-so-and-so-said-such-and-such is such a bore -- especially after more than 30 years. Who does it benefit, how does it help, what advantages can it offer upcoming generations to perpetuate these fallacies? No one and none.
Often adult children attack a parent or step-parent because that child has married out of his/her station, or into another culture. When inevitable clashes arise, the adult child blames the parent instead of realizing that the spouse he/she chose was the wrong one. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.
I have to tell you I am not a proponent of the "there are two sides to every story" conjecture. Truth is an absolute, whether you like it or not. I remember telling a niece who could not get along with her new step-mother (the same one who does not like me) to get over it. "You can't win that one because guess what, your Dad will stick with his wife, so you better decide to get along with her." Happily it appears she heeded my advice. Too bad many step-children still don't get it.
If people think they can talk about others behind their backs in a nasty and cowardly fashion and get away with it, remember I have the blog and you will be called on your behaviour every time.
How many of us do either? Often delusional and thinking myself witty and entertaining, I adhere more often to the former bit of advice than the latter. I do recall staying mostly silent in meetings when I first joined the ranks of the Canada Revenue Agency from Customs and Excise -- especially when I encountered the likes of "FHL", someone with impeccable technical knowledge. Ignorant of "income tax stuff", I was grateful merely to take notes while my colleagues explained how it all worked.
Too bad some family members don't take such wise grandfatherly advice to heart. Some step-children hang onto divorce myths for years and years, spewing them into the long-suffering ear of a worn-out and too-patient parent. Do they actually think the parent will be swayed by the recounting of one of the many fictional movies they are directing in their own heads? The I-remember-when-so-and-so-said-such-and-such is such a bore -- especially after more than 30 years. Who does it benefit, how does it help, what advantages can it offer upcoming generations to perpetuate these fallacies? No one and none.
Often adult children attack a parent or step-parent because that child has married out of his/her station, or into another culture. When inevitable clashes arise, the adult child blames the parent instead of realizing that the spouse he/she chose was the wrong one. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.
I have to tell you I am not a proponent of the "there are two sides to every story" conjecture. Truth is an absolute, whether you like it or not. I remember telling a niece who could not get along with her new step-mother (the same one who does not like me) to get over it. "You can't win that one because guess what, your Dad will stick with his wife, so you better decide to get along with her." Happily it appears she heeded my advice. Too bad many step-children still don't get it.
If people think they can talk about others behind their backs in a nasty and cowardly fashion and get away with it, remember I have the blog and you will be called on your behaviour every time.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Feel-good stuff
Adding gnocchi as a final touch to the turkey soup I was making this morning, I marveled at the fact that an hour earlier, the carcass for this creation had been an ugly bunch of bones, sinew and skin in the freezer. I never throw anything edible or salvageable out.
Watching B's Houston son-in-law toss the remnants of an entire bird into the garbage a few years ago made me literally wince. There was so much potential remaining. Food prices in Calgary are scandalous, which is why the thrifty homemaker needs to pinch every penny until the Queen screams. And don't even think about buying seafood. Landlocked as Calgary is, a measly bag of frozen shrimp is about $25.
Having been sick and unable to swim for a few days, I miss it terribly. One swimming website I just visited said that rigorous and habitual swimming can take 20 years off one's chronological age. I believe it. "Your age is one number," said my doctor the other day looking at the results of my physical, "but your body is another. It's much lower."
Can't wait to get back into the pool.
Watching B's Houston son-in-law toss the remnants of an entire bird into the garbage a few years ago made me literally wince. There was so much potential remaining. Food prices in Calgary are scandalous, which is why the thrifty homemaker needs to pinch every penny until the Queen screams. And don't even think about buying seafood. Landlocked as Calgary is, a measly bag of frozen shrimp is about $25.
Having been sick and unable to swim for a few days, I miss it terribly. One swimming website I just visited said that rigorous and habitual swimming can take 20 years off one's chronological age. I believe it. "Your age is one number," said my doctor the other day looking at the results of my physical, "but your body is another. It's much lower."
Can't wait to get back into the pool.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
High heels for the lips
That's how Susanne Langmuir, founder of Bite Beauty, a Toronto-based cosmetics company that produces colourful lipsticks, describes her products. "There's an instant gratification with a lipstick that's the right colour, it's like high heels for the lips," says Langmuir
It certainly is. I can put my entire face on and look, well, dull. But when I add the lipstick, the whole picture emerges. I can also don my entire outfit, but it only snaps together when I step into my high heels. Up I rise about three inches and instantly feel empowered.
I think we all remember dressing up in our mother's clothes, shoes and hats and then plastering on lipstick. I loved it. I particularly loved watching my Aunt Pat, the younger and most glamorous of my mother's sisters, sitting in her boudoir in front of a large, tilting mirror applying that magic wand of womanhood, instantly transforming her into someone else. The lipstick was the last touch, which she applied and then blotted with a tissue. She always looked trendy and fashionable. It fascinated me.
"Glosses, by comparison, are the cosmetic equivalent of microwavable dinners," says an article by Sarah Hampson in The Globe and Mail. "You slap the stuff on, anywhere, without looking and go." Couldn't agree more. Bold lipstick is a sign of lean-in, read-my-lips confidence. You have to apply it carefully, like war paint, adds Hampson.
Read somewhere that women of 'a certain age', such as I, should avoid red lipstick and black eyeliner. May have to re-think that one.
It certainly is. I can put my entire face on and look, well, dull. But when I add the lipstick, the whole picture emerges. I can also don my entire outfit, but it only snaps together when I step into my high heels. Up I rise about three inches and instantly feel empowered.
I think we all remember dressing up in our mother's clothes, shoes and hats and then plastering on lipstick. I loved it. I particularly loved watching my Aunt Pat, the younger and most glamorous of my mother's sisters, sitting in her boudoir in front of a large, tilting mirror applying that magic wand of womanhood, instantly transforming her into someone else. The lipstick was the last touch, which she applied and then blotted with a tissue. She always looked trendy and fashionable. It fascinated me.
"Glosses, by comparison, are the cosmetic equivalent of microwavable dinners," says an article by Sarah Hampson in The Globe and Mail. "You slap the stuff on, anywhere, without looking and go." Couldn't agree more. Bold lipstick is a sign of lean-in, read-my-lips confidence. You have to apply it carefully, like war paint, adds Hampson.
Read somewhere that women of 'a certain age', such as I, should avoid red lipstick and black eyeliner. May have to re-think that one.
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