If this is style.....?

'Avenue' magazine arrived to day, a now-and-then feature about all things "Calgarian".  It boasted the best-dressed people in Calgary.  Really?  Either I am way out of date, or the editors are way off base.  You be the judge:


Who actually leaves the house sporting these hideous things?  My late mother, maybe, in her 90s.

What point is this outfit trying to make?  Please tell me?

Who wears this?  And what's with the ugly shoes and pigeon toes?!

This ridiculously-dressed couple adorned the cover?

Still don't understand mixing stripes and....whatever?!

Recognize these?  Now this pair I approve of.  

So, that's fashion in Calgary, folks!

A Spring in my step

Much as I hate it, I slogged through a huge mall this morning because DSW has finally come to Calgary!  'Designer Shoe Warehouse' is an outlet I never missed when I used to travel to the US.  I was always in heaven, wading through aisle after aisle of fabulous shoes -- at fabulous prices.  But the store did not exist in Canada and, as I no longer plan to travel to the states, I had kind'a resigned myself to filing DSW into reverie-only mode.  

Now that wonderful outlet is here!  You have to realize that CrossIron Mills is an enormous mall and I can't stand shopping -- or is it the problem that I can't stand the people one has to push one's way past to get anywhere?  Yeah, that's actually my problem.  Other people.  As un-Christian as it is, I am not good when dealing with crowds of shoppers who have absolutely no idea where they are going...or so their aimless gawking seems to indicate.  A bad economy and drastic budget in Alberta?  You'd never know it from the mass and hysterical spending at CrossIron Mills.

Nevetheless, I knew exactly the shoes I wanted and found them immediately.  Grabbed the size, handed the box to B and said, "Get in the queue and meet me at exit 3.  I'll go get the car."  We were in and outta there in 15 minutes.  Whew.  Here are the Spring Slippers I bought:

       

This blog is not titled "The View From Hats and Heels" for nothing.  And by the way, shoes such as these are the reason I don't play golf!  

Really?

Saw a ridiculous foodie show (aren't they all) which featured people eating live ants.  Seriously.  They had to round up 27,000 of the crawlies to get this done for some reception.  The next course was lamb.  Served on a bed of hay.  I'm totally serious.  And what did it cost?  $400.  People will fall for anything.  It's the "Emperor's New Clothes" all the way.

Period, the end.

Out with friends, I kept sneaking a peak at the television because it featured.....wait for it.....a national darts' championship!  England, where else.  Held in a HUGE arena, there were thousands of cheering and fanatical fans screaming for their guys.  Darts!?  Please.  It's darts!  How many wasted hours does one have to spend perfecting darts?  About as many as those who perfect billiards.

Next, on came 'Poker Stars'.  I don't think I heard a word anyone was saying because I was enthralled with these two stupid programs.  But, I am the stupid one because I was mesmerized.

Sad.

My simple philosophy

Basically, people seem to live by a few very simple maxims within which everything  -- and I mean everything -- can be found.

Some people's outlook can be summed up with, "Enough about me, what do you think about me?"  At how many dinner and cocktail parties have we encountered this unspeakably tedious specimen.  A few years ago we were at a cocktail party and I became trapped by a bore blabbing on and on and on.....and on....until I finally looked at him and deadpanned something I had always wanted to say to so many: "You are one of the most boring people I have ever met."  He stopped talking and started laughing, thinking I was joking.  "I'm deadly serious and I can't stand it another second," I said as I turned and walked away.  I mean, seriously, please.

There are others who can be categorized as "egos on a skateboard", as B pronounced on another occasion.  G-d, don't we all know a bunch of those!  They're usually the types who don't listen to a word anyone else is saying.  Instead they are waiting for the mouth of the person at whom they are talking stops moving and sound ceases to come out of it (although this usually isn't necessary), whereupon they simply pick up where they had left off.

Because, obviously they know everything.

Another of B's brilliant sayings unfortunately applies to very few.  "Life is made up of small victories and mediocre defeats," he said one day out-of-the-blue.  How absolutely brilliant.  This refers to people who can actually "get out of their chairs" -- an impossible feat for most I encounter.

"If we could just separate the crap from the crap," he also said one day as we were driving up Ottawa's Carling Avenue.  I nearly fell out of the car because separating the crap from the crap is indeed difficult as we slog wearily through our days and nights.

So folks, if you think about everyone you know, I guarantee you will find that each fits into one or another of these categories perfectly.

Musings

"My husband and I have become forgetful and absent-minded, so we got rid of our computer," said a lady I was chatting with in line at Walmart this morning.  What a riot!  Actually, I am tempted to do the same at times, what with dealing with everything I don't know that hits my in-basket.

What scares me most is B's potentially downloading a virus....or 20 -- especially via those official-looking emails he gets from our provider, telling him his account will be cancelled within 10 days if he doesn't "click here to reactivate".  Never, never do that because apparently these originate from criminals trying to steal your identity.  Yikes!
_______________________________

A couple of days ago, a 16-year-old girl was killed by a hit-and-run driver in downtown Calgary.  My problem is it was 3 a.m. and she was lying in the middle of the road.  "She's a young girl and she wasn't doing anything wrong," said Calgary police -- incredulously.  How stupid is it to be lying in the middle of the street at 3 a.m.?!  Her name was Tyla Chipaway and her parents' addictions meant she and her siblings grew up in foster homes all over the province.

It's all so sad.  No one was looking out for her.  This is Tyla:

_______________________________

Today's 'Globe and Mail' featured our departed ex-premier, Alison Redford, on its cover.  "Well, she finally got rid of that stupid hair," was my first thought -- although she still sports those out-of-it pearls (something I wear now and then on social occasions, but never to the office because it transmits an unprofessional, stuffy and entitled image).  In a far-reaching interview, all she basically admitted to was being a "polarizing figure".  Hey, that's putting it mildly!  Here's her new "look":

  

Smoking, drinking, working, affairs and intrigue

Maclean-Hunter in the seventies was more like 'The Hour' than 'Mad Men'.  'The Hour', a BBC series and thus perfectly done, is about BBC TV journalists in the fifties who challenged the system and who wanted to produce hard-hitting documentaries about political and governmental corruption -- rather than the flotsam about the comings out of vacuous debutantes and the jetsam of the latest fashions. 

It was really the beginning of the 'Fifth Estates' and 'W5s' of this world, but what intrigued me were the lifestyles and office environments of the young reporters in this series.  At M-H, as we called it, we too worked in the same sort of rudimentary conditions, all of us in one large room, sitting at grubby desks, banging away at old typewriters, spewing out copy for our various publications.  Our publishers had offices, but we were in a virtual editorial bullpen.  It was so much bloody fun because you could turn to another hacker and ask him about your piece, or ask her to listen to what you had just written, before you handed your copy to your editor.

Cigarette smoke clogged the air, people had bottles in their desk drawers and everyone was screwing everyone -- literally and figuratively.  It was heady stuff for a young woman such as I, fresh out of university, and I loved every minute of it.  'Mad Men' staff worked in luxury; we worked in reality.  'Mad Men' ad execs were cynical; we were idealistic.

Why can't the CBC do anything of this quality?  There is no way that dumb 'Republic of Doyle' can even come close to touching 'The Hour' for superb acting and gritty reality.  It's on Netflix.  Do yourself a favour and watch it.              

Alberta's in deep do-do

Even though he tried to tone it down, Prentice's analysis of the mess-that-is-Alberta came through loud and clear last night in a speech to those of us who paid $100 to hear it. 

Well, we all know that -- or at least some of us do; not sure about the heads-in-the-sand oil types.  Alberta's economy is a "one trick pony" and thus completely at the mercy of what happens in Saudi Arabia.  How dumb is that?!  I happened to be at the door when the premier arrived, trapped in conversation by two kilt-wearing show-offs, so Prentice greeted me first.  Must have thought I was the doorman.  He introduced his wife (a fattie) and two of his three daughters and I introduced B and the kilts.  It was all very amusing.  The ass-kissing on the part of the kilts was breathtaking! 

Head of the MacLeod Clan, one of the kilts bored me to sobs with water talk -- he's a consultant in the liquid -- and the other informed me of what Prentice's next moves would be.  Apparently, post-election he will introduce a two percent sales tax and modify Alberta's ridiculous flat income tax.  Really?  How Mr. Kilt would know is beyond me?  B managed to chat with him about working with the late, great Peter Lougheed a hundred years ago on the constitution and the premier pretended to be interested; there was a lot of that going on.

The premier's speech was amusing at first, but then degenerated into truth.  I had no idea he was born into a large, blue-collar family in South Porcupine, Ont., and that he put himself through university working in a coal mine for seven years?  Note to Jim:  play that up a little harder, it's a vote-getter.

Upon leaving, he came up to our table and took my hand.  I thought he was going to kiss it.  "Thank you so much," he said.  For what?  Guess he still thought I was the doorman.       

Made it for years

There was a snooty piece in The Globe and Mail today about the newest food fad:  bone broth.  Whaaaat?  I've been making bone broth forever, just as did my grandmother and mother.  No turkey or beef carcass was ever tossed.  It was recycled into broth and soup.  In fact, I have a couple in my freezer right now and another simmering on the stove as I type. 

Now, apparently, there are trendy "bone-broth bars" sprouting up in Vancouver (where else) and Toronto and they're all the rage.  People visit them to partake of a bowl for its "curative powers".  Coaches are even prescribing it for sports injuries.  No less a luminary than Kobe Bryant was ordered to use it for an ankle injury.  "He missed only two games instead of being out indefinitely," said the team's nutritionist. 

Apparently, bone broth is a digestive restorative and boosts immunity.  Really?  Even the beauty industry is on the band wagon, claiming broth's collagen helps fight wrinkles and cellulite.  OK, I do have pretty good skin, but try telling that to the cellulite residing under my upper arms.  And let's not forget bars, where it is being blended with Glenlivet here and there.    

It's all so bizarre, but I guess everything old is new again.  To me, boiling up a carcass for broth is just normal, sensible home economics, which was why I almost cried a few years ago when I watched my Texan son-in-law chuck the remains of an entire turkey into the bin after dinner.  What a waste!  There's so much goodness and meat left there.

________________________________

Going to a black tie dinner this evening at which Premier Jim Prentice is the guest speaker.  I know what he'll say -- nothing -- but thought I'd have it confirmed by attending.  More later...............

A Fraud

I have always thought Stephen Hawking a fraud, but having just watched 'The Theory of Everything' have had it confirmed.  He should thank God for his severe disability, which masquerades as genius. 

Seriously.     

Golf and its "clubs"

Talking with B about the conundrum that is the board of directors of the tennis club of which he is now president, I started musing about other upper-middle-class sports.  Golf sprang to mind. 

"Golf club boards are exactly the same," said a friend here who otta know.  "The minute you get involved with an elite sport such as golf, you're gonna run into people who think they know everything.  And because you're not paying them to sit on the board, you have to be very skilled to shut them up," he added.  But, still there is something uniquely annoying about tennis players and the clubs to which they belong.....................you get the idea.

Back to golf.  Apparently, this unplayable insanity started in Scotland when a few farmers whittled a few hickory sticks and started batting a ball around various fields -- hence the term "links".  From one "stick" and one ball to what golf is now has been a long, tortuous and expensive journey.  I remember wandering the links with my late very-gentlemanly uncle -- who indeed called them golf "sticks" -- and marvelling at the fact that this was the only time I ever heard him swear.

Golf is now a multi-billion-dollar game (not a "sport", mind you) and a golf club membership is something many people would prefer to kill their spouses over than forfeit.  In spite of having spent more money than any other country on golf, Japan does not have a top-ten ranked player.  Go figure.  "The average player needs a minimum of eight clubs in their bag," said B, a sometime duffer, "so, the more clubs you have, the poorer the player you are."  Well, that's brilliant.  Just like the tennis player who needs a raquet made out of satellite-worthy material to hit anything over a net.

As long as any society has a guaranteed source of food and water, golf and tennis will continue to annoy the rest of us.           

No one gets it.....no one

There is a reason our democracy separates "church" and "state".  There is the "secular" and there is the "religious" and never the twain shall meet.  The hubbub over the Muslim woman who wants to wear a Niquab when she swears an oath of Canadian citizenship is ridiculous.

She is swearing an oath to the secular Canadian state, thus her religious beliefs and dress have no place in that forum.  None.  Why is this so hard to comprehend?  All kinds of irrelevant arguments are being waged over her "right" to wear the Niquab and how Canada is a free country and how she can dress as she likes and how she can cover her face..........and on.......and on........and on. 

Forget all that.  She has to appear in a secular court without her religious accoutrements.  Period.  The end.  I am surprised no one mentions this fact of our democracy -- not even Harper?!  "The separation of church and state is a description for the distance between the nation state and organized religion," says Wikipedia -- plus a lot more, but that's the basic premise.

Get over yourselves.  Leave religion in your mosque, synagogue or church and abide by secularism in the public thoroughfare.                

And people don't want pipelines..............

This was the scene in Gogama, Ont., this past weekend.  Yet another disastrous derailment of crude tank cars:

This is the third time in less than a month that a CN train carrying crude has derailed and caught fire near this northern community.  Oh yeah, and oil has spilled into the nearby Matagami river and is contaminating the air.  "Our community does not feel safe and we are concerned about the effects of smoke inhalation and environmental damage," said one of the biggest opponents to pipelines, the chief of the Matagami First Nation. 

Really?  Well get your heads out of your ass-s and start getting on the pipeline band wagon because it'll keep happening.  The latest safety standards for oil tankers still don't go far enough.  It's all so dumb.  And not only is it far more dangerous, it costs twice as much to move crude by rail than via pipeline.  Duh and duh again!

So dumb.   

 



Huh?

Somehow, I managed to delete my blog.  I panicked!  Years of writing more than 1,000 and it was gone?  Went on google "help", which didn't because I didn't know what a "URL" was???  People were actually emailing me wondering where it had gone?

So I tried to look for it online.  Not there.  In fact, two blogs I had written over the last couple of days not even I could access on my own account!  "Blog has been removed" was the message I got after logging in. 

More panic.  Naturally, there is no phone help for Blogger, so one is on one's own.  Surfing around I was afraid to "edit" anything in case I made things worse.  Finally, after about an hour, I got it back.....I think.  Blogger used to offer to print one's blog, but they no longer do.  I would love to leave a legacy for my grandkids so they would know what a whacko their grandma was.  But, alas alack, no dice. 

I am now going to try and publish and access this.  Get out the beads! 

Miss Havisham

"Sad news," said B's daughter yesterday.  "So-and-so died."  Who?  This was a man who hadn't spoken to B in 35 years, since B and his daughter's mother were divorced.  In fact, this was a man B hadn't really liked, so why B was even informed and expected to "care" beats me?  Yep, B left many phony friends behind when he split, most of whom lived in Rockcliffe -- an enclave in which wealthy matriarchs continue to reign over poor, gelded husbands.  The hypocrisy is breathtaking.      

Some people live in the past.  Actually, many must because Dickens wrote about the "Miss Havisham's" of this world 155 years ago -- she of the crumbled wedding dress, decayed cake and suffocating cobwebs.  My wonderful grade eight teacher, Miss Anderson, set aside an hour every Friday afternoon to read to us; in my year it was 'Great Expectations'.  Loved the book, but little did I think I would actually be living it when I married B.

Fast forward 155 years from 'Great Expectaions' and 35 from B's divorce and we still have to silently endure tales from the crypt about all the people who haven't spoken to him in 35 years.  (And it's not as if we have an unlisted number or a common name.)  We have had such a rich and wonderful life with our four great children, their husbands and our grandchildren, but every now and then "Miss Havisham" and her ghost pop up.  A couple of Christmases ago we had to endure presentations by his daughter of books the ex had stood in line to have signed by yet more people who hadn't spoken to him for 35 years.  Annoyingly, B had to pretend he appreciated the spectacle. 

"So-and-so sends his regards," B's son used to say.  Who?  Another who hadn't spoken to him for 35 years.  Happily, this no longer happens because the son hasn't spoken to his mother in seven...or is it eight?.....years. 

I am glad we live in Calgary.  Socially, Ottawa is an ingrown toenail.          

   

Pierre Trudeau was the Worst

"What you do in Canada is march in some central square with your national flags and placards, you don't wage war here," I said to the beautiful, young Ukrainian woman I see daily in the Y locker room.  She was lamenting the ugly and destructive war going on there, after leaving the country where her mother and family live.   

"Why would people want to destroy their homes and cities?" I asked.  "It's complicated," she replied.  No it's not.  It's stupid.  Immigrants come to Canada and call themselves "Ukrainian Canadians" or "Hungarian Canadians"......or whatever.........  They don't identify as "Canadian".  How many generations does it take?  Pierre Trudeau did a great disservice to this country when he brought in "Multiculturalism".  What a disaster!  Now everyone is a "Something-Canadian". 

An economist he wasn't, when it came to the Constitution.  And The Charter?  Forget about it!  Now the Supreme Court is making law and the rights of an individual supersede those of the collective.  He was the worst Prime Minister we have had in recent memory.  Maybe ever.  Period.  The End.   

Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians (no prefix) in Carleton Place protesting?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Almonte?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Airdrie?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Winnipeg?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Port Albernie?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Halifax?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in St. John's?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in North Bay?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Cochrane?  Do we ever see a gathering of Canadians protesting in Moncton?

No.  It's only "prefix Canadians" who protest whatever is happening back in "their" countries. 

It is decidedly un-Canadian.

p.s.  The young woman with whom I spoke this morning about the Ukraine said that conflicts in the Middle East were "in the blood".  What does she think is in the blood of every Eastern European?