That's how many nuts and bolts we had left after putting together an IKEA desk. Oops! And why does it always involve a lot of swearing and fighting? At least, that's how B and I put the stuff together. First of all, you have to pretty much strip down to your undies because you work up such a sweat. So, don't bother to shower first; that you do afterwards. What a bloody rigamarole!
Good thing B is a lateral thinker. It allows him to just pull out the screws we put in on the wrong end of a piece, instead of taking the whole thing apart and putting it back together with the screws in the right place...so the top will fit on...so the dowalls are in the right place...so the drawer fits right...oh hell, just forget those two screws. And out he yanks them.
We take on the roles of Jackie Gleason and Art Carney during these sessions. This morning I was determined not to get sucked into putting together his blessed desk. First of all, I didn't think he needed another desk in our small office. Lost that fight. So, the desk is delivered, but so heavy we can't even get it out of the garage, let alone up the stairs and into the office. Our son-in-law performed that task before dinner last evening. Nice one, Nancy. Invite your daughter and her husband over for turkey, but by the way, would you mind schlepping a desk upstairs first?
I ignored him for a whole half hour with my own puttering until he said..."I don't get this." History tells me that if I don't get involved at that stage, he will just barrel ahead and force-fit the whole thing into a complete jumbled mess. So, I grabbed the 400-page instructions and diagrams and started. I played Ralph to his Ed -- with all the attendant raving, calling each other stupid and idiot and moron and how-can-you-be-so-f-ing dumb! But low and behold, two byzantine hours later, the thing was finished.
Except for those 10 nuts and bolts....???
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
I swear I hear it this way.........
"Cowgary". That's how it is pronounced here. The "l" is absent. If you pronounce it "CaLgary", people know you are from away, as they say in Newfoundland.
But it's not all that different from Montreal or Toronto. If someone says, "MAWN-tree-ALL", you know they are not Canadian. If they say, "Tor-ON-tow", they are not from here. It's "Mun-tree-ALL" and "Tronno". That's the Canadian way of pronouncing two of our major cities.
Language and linguistics facinate me. When I lived in The Valley -- the Ottawa, that is -- it was easy to tell when folks hailed from a small town, such as Almonte or Carleton Place, because they inserted "like" at the beginning of each sentence and "eh" at the end. They also used creatvive words for "said" and "is". A typical greeting might be: "G'Day lad! It be's a nice day, eh!" This might be followed by..."Like I was talkin' to my mum, eh, and, like, my mum goes 'why d' ya buy that dress, eh?'" I loved to tour The Valley of an afternoon just to drink in the local dialect and jargon. So Irish and utterly captivating.
Unfortunately, importing such jargon into the city workplace had its disadvantages. I remember one very bright young woman who worked for me and used Valley speak. She had utterly transformed herself in every other way, but she still spoke with the local twang and inflection. She was professional, beautifully-dressed, well-educated and charming. But when she opened her mouth in a meeting and let loose with...."Like I was doin' the budget, eh, and like we have a friggin' shortfall"...Marilyn was doomed. Before I left for another position, I called her into my office and had a verboten, prohibited chat about her speech patterns and use of language.
"Marilyn, you have everything going for you, but you just cannot speak that way and get ahead." She was shocked, but smart enough to be grateful because, frankly, she had no idea she came across that way. A couple of years after we parted company, I was flipping through the paper and noticed an ad welcoming "Marilyn.... to our accounting office as a senior financial advisor". I was not surprised, but clearly to her credit she had refined her professional tongue. The Liza Doolittle's are still around.
But it's not all that different from Montreal or Toronto. If someone says, "MAWN-tree-ALL", you know they are not Canadian. If they say, "Tor-ON-tow", they are not from here. It's "Mun-tree-ALL" and "Tronno". That's the Canadian way of pronouncing two of our major cities.
Language and linguistics facinate me. When I lived in The Valley -- the Ottawa, that is -- it was easy to tell when folks hailed from a small town, such as Almonte or Carleton Place, because they inserted "like" at the beginning of each sentence and "eh" at the end. They also used creatvive words for "said" and "is". A typical greeting might be: "G'Day lad! It be's a nice day, eh!" This might be followed by..."Like I was talkin' to my mum, eh, and, like, my mum goes 'why d' ya buy that dress, eh?'" I loved to tour The Valley of an afternoon just to drink in the local dialect and jargon. So Irish and utterly captivating.
Unfortunately, importing such jargon into the city workplace had its disadvantages. I remember one very bright young woman who worked for me and used Valley speak. She had utterly transformed herself in every other way, but she still spoke with the local twang and inflection. She was professional, beautifully-dressed, well-educated and charming. But when she opened her mouth in a meeting and let loose with...."Like I was doin' the budget, eh, and like we have a friggin' shortfall"...Marilyn was doomed. Before I left for another position, I called her into my office and had a verboten, prohibited chat about her speech patterns and use of language.
"Marilyn, you have everything going for you, but you just cannot speak that way and get ahead." She was shocked, but smart enough to be grateful because, frankly, she had no idea she came across that way. A couple of years after we parted company, I was flipping through the paper and noticed an ad welcoming "Marilyn.... to our accounting office as a senior financial advisor". I was not surprised, but clearly to her credit she had refined her professional tongue. The Liza Doolittle's are still around.
Monday, September 26, 2011
You still can't mention Trudeau in Alberta
After all these years, you still can't mention Trudeau without getting an earful from Albertans. I mean, get over it. The National Energy Program was created in 1980 in response to the arab oil cartel, which was fixing prices and keeping them high. That led to the energy crisis of the '70s. Whatever you think of Trudeau -- and I think he was one of the worst prime ministers we have ever had -- he had a vision for all of Canada. Quebec didn't like it because it wasn't "Quebec" enough'; Aberta didn't like it because it wasn't "rich oil" enough.
Here's the deal: Canada runs on food and oil. You need oil to get food to Canadians and the energy crisis had led to harsh unemployment in Canada -- particularly in the Maritimes. Trudeau's energy program was three-pronged:
1. To ensure the security of supply and ultimate independence from the world oil markets,
2. To ensure that all Canadians had the opportunity to participate in the energy industry, particularly oil and gas, and to share in the benefits of its expansion, and
3. To ensure national equity, with a pricing and revenue-sharing regime which recognized the needs and rights of all Canadians.
Albertans didn't like that because it meant they had to forego revenues world oil markets would have given them. Well, that's what being a part of Canada is all about. While it's true natural resources are within the provincial purvue, Trudeau realized that the national interest had to override provincial coffers. That's why he is still hated here.
Let's not forget that Alberta was a have-not province until the 1940's. Before that, Ontario supported it, so let's not hate Ottawans and Ontarians too hard out here.
Here's the deal: Canada runs on food and oil. You need oil to get food to Canadians and the energy crisis had led to harsh unemployment in Canada -- particularly in the Maritimes. Trudeau's energy program was three-pronged:
1. To ensure the security of supply and ultimate independence from the world oil markets,
2. To ensure that all Canadians had the opportunity to participate in the energy industry, particularly oil and gas, and to share in the benefits of its expansion, and
3. To ensure national equity, with a pricing and revenue-sharing regime which recognized the needs and rights of all Canadians.
Albertans didn't like that because it meant they had to forego revenues world oil markets would have given them. Well, that's what being a part of Canada is all about. While it's true natural resources are within the provincial purvue, Trudeau realized that the national interest had to override provincial coffers. That's why he is still hated here.
Let's not forget that Alberta was a have-not province until the 1940's. Before that, Ontario supported it, so let's not hate Ottawans and Ontarians too hard out here.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Prince of Ottawa
Another wonderful man has passed. Mike Copeland was literally the Prince of Ottawa. Charismatic, handsome, charming, he was a genuine dandy in the old sense of the word. When we were teens, no party was complete without Copey. He was a great dancer, a hilarious comedian and a notorious ladies' man -- but most of all he was a loyal and true friend.
When my brother tragically died many years ago, the first person to drive up to my house in the big, blue cadillac to console me in person was Mike. I will never forget that. Not having seen him for a few years, I remember being surprised for a split second, but not for long. Of course Mike would be there. He always was. It was for that kind of loyalty that he is the godfather of both my children.
As a young man, he had Ottawa for the taking. He always had the best-looking woman on his arm, but she was never a bimbo...well not usually. Although I can think of a few exceptions as he got older, his women were classy. I never dated him, but I liked him much better as a friend because I got to keep him longer -- my entire life. Never married, he broke countless hearts, as one woman after another tried to tame him.
As we all drifted into marriages and children, Mike remained forever a kid -- one of the boys, so to speak. He played football on Saturday mornings until well into his fifties -- an excuse to hit the bars all afternoon. And that's what finally did him in: booze. So many of us tried to help him, but in the end he drifted into a sad existence in the seedier parts of town. At one point, I had to put him on "call screen" to avoid his crazy ramblings.
Sadly, we were not in Ottawa for the graveside service. But our son, Scott, represented the family. Apparently, it was well-attended -- with an appropriate pub roasting afterward. Tales were told and stories spun, but in the end we all loved Mike for the true gentleman he was. Good night darling Mike. You were so loved.
When my brother tragically died many years ago, the first person to drive up to my house in the big, blue cadillac to console me in person was Mike. I will never forget that. Not having seen him for a few years, I remember being surprised for a split second, but not for long. Of course Mike would be there. He always was. It was for that kind of loyalty that he is the godfather of both my children.
As a young man, he had Ottawa for the taking. He always had the best-looking woman on his arm, but she was never a bimbo...well not usually. Although I can think of a few exceptions as he got older, his women were classy. I never dated him, but I liked him much better as a friend because I got to keep him longer -- my entire life. Never married, he broke countless hearts, as one woman after another tried to tame him.
As we all drifted into marriages and children, Mike remained forever a kid -- one of the boys, so to speak. He played football on Saturday mornings until well into his fifties -- an excuse to hit the bars all afternoon. And that's what finally did him in: booze. So many of us tried to help him, but in the end he drifted into a sad existence in the seedier parts of town. At one point, I had to put him on "call screen" to avoid his crazy ramblings.
Sadly, we were not in Ottawa for the graveside service. But our son, Scott, represented the family. Apparently, it was well-attended -- with an appropriate pub roasting afterward. Tales were told and stories spun, but in the end we all loved Mike for the true gentleman he was. Good night darling Mike. You were so loved.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Don't let your cat out
Rose this morning to view the sunrise, as I have every morning since we moved into our townhouse. Our back faces east and the horizon is magnificent.
"What the hell are people doing, letting their dogs roam around off leash at this hour," I said to the empty living room, as I spied what looked like a small german shepherd trotting along the path in the tall grass along the trail. Except it wasn't a dog. It was a coyote. Not 10 feet from our back door, a female and her juvenile loped around hunting "breakfast" among the wildlife waking up in the field. What a thrill! Riveted, I stared at the mother. She stopped in her tracks and stared back. Both frozen, I blinked first and ran upstairs to try and get a better view. Unconcerned, the juvenile ran back and forth, playing happily. But as the sun rose, mother took it away and off they trotted into the grasses beyond.
As I said, I think I am going to love Calgary!
"What the hell are people doing, letting their dogs roam around off leash at this hour," I said to the empty living room, as I spied what looked like a small german shepherd trotting along the path in the tall grass along the trail. Except it wasn't a dog. It was a coyote. Not 10 feet from our back door, a female and her juvenile loped around hunting "breakfast" among the wildlife waking up in the field. What a thrill! Riveted, I stared at the mother. She stopped in her tracks and stared back. Both frozen, I blinked first and ran upstairs to try and get a better view. Unconcerned, the juvenile ran back and forth, playing happily. But as the sun rose, mother took it away and off they trotted into the grasses beyond.
As I said, I think I am going to love Calgary!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
If he can take apart a combine machine.........
........he can certainly manage a dimmer switch. That's the kind of fabulous people one meets here. Attended a Knights of Columbus Fourth Degree installation ceremony and reception last evening and met some facinating people -- like the chap who explained in detail how he had completely dismantled a combine the other day (or was it a harvester?) and put it back together. This in response to my pitiful query about where I could find a handyman to put in a few dimmer switches and hang a chandelier.
He gabbed at length and with authority about..."harvester chains....chaffers...rotary concaves...adjustable sieves...grapples...hitchers...augers...loaders...buckets....bale spears -- and my favourite the combine snout". Now here was a very talented and facinating man. What a delightful holiday from the boring political banter and mannered cultural repartee of the average Ottawa party. I was riveted and frankly flattered that he assumed I could keep up with his precise technical expertise. Of course I couldn't keep up, but I nodded enthusiastically and hoped he would have the belevolence to lend us a hand.
His wife was as charming, with a beautiful, friendly smile and enough information about various parishes and Calgary in general to compete with a guide book. I think I am going to love Calgary!
He gabbed at length and with authority about..."harvester chains....chaffers...rotary concaves...adjustable sieves...grapples...hitchers...augers...loaders...buckets....bale spears -- and my favourite the combine snout". Now here was a very talented and facinating man. What a delightful holiday from the boring political banter and mannered cultural repartee of the average Ottawa party. I was riveted and frankly flattered that he assumed I could keep up with his precise technical expertise. Of course I couldn't keep up, but I nodded enthusiastically and hoped he would have the belevolence to lend us a hand.
His wife was as charming, with a beautiful, friendly smile and enough information about various parishes and Calgary in general to compete with a guide book. I think I am going to love Calgary!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The minute I stepped into it.....
....I felt at home. My Civic was finally all fixed and we picked her up this morning. What a relief to finally have my darling car back. I think it felt content too, having me behind the wheel again. We have been together since 2000 and are the best of buddies. I think a standard enjoys only one driver and when I depressed the clutch and shifted into gear, we were off with the familiar sounds of my little Honda engine doing its efficient thing. Even though not familiar with Calgary, I feel very safe in my trusty and loyal hatchback. I simply could not have left her behind.
Tomorrow the furniture arrives. The rest of my life will commence to slide back into normal. Of course, there will be chaos, but I will prevail. While waiting around the other day for something or other to arrive or be fixed, I tried out the resident dishwasher. Clatter, bang, hum, whirr.......forget it. Add that to the fact that "heavy" and "normal" didn't run and it was off to Sears. This other best friend will arrive Friday. Had gone into Sears to buy a lipstick and walked out with a housekeeper. G-d, I love a good dishwasher!
A word about wrinkles. Peered depressingly into the bathroom mirror the other morning and spotted a new wrinkle just above my left upper lip. Mmmm....guess I must have slept wrong. That crease will obviously disappear shortly, I lied. Just have a shower, flex the facial muscles and it's gone. But no. Funny how wrinkles execute a perfect landing overnight, taxi onto a weak facial spot, settle in and proceed to take up permanent residence on a once-resilient patch of skin.
Tomorrow the furniture arrives. The rest of my life will commence to slide back into normal. Of course, there will be chaos, but I will prevail. While waiting around the other day for something or other to arrive or be fixed, I tried out the resident dishwasher. Clatter, bang, hum, whirr.......forget it. Add that to the fact that "heavy" and "normal" didn't run and it was off to Sears. This other best friend will arrive Friday. Had gone into Sears to buy a lipstick and walked out with a housekeeper. G-d, I love a good dishwasher!
A word about wrinkles. Peered depressingly into the bathroom mirror the other morning and spotted a new wrinkle just above my left upper lip. Mmmm....guess I must have slept wrong. That crease will obviously disappear shortly, I lied. Just have a shower, flex the facial muscles and it's gone. But no. Funny how wrinkles execute a perfect landing overnight, taxi onto a weak facial spot, settle in and proceed to take up permanent residence on a once-resilient patch of skin.
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