Suzy May Blackfly

To My Old Master ~ Letter

2012-02-05T13:22:00.000-05:00

This, the above, was published on my birthday...what a gift...read it for yourself.

It's time for Coffee Cake

2010-10-22T09:14:00.003-04:00

My mom left me a tattered, well-used and well-loved American Woman's Cookbook published by the Culinary Arts Institute of Chicago in 1947. Last night, as it was chilly and there was nothing to have with coffee, I pulled it out and found a somewhat splattered dog-eared page containing the recipe for Spicy Apple Coffee Cake. It took only minutes to prepare, and as I did, I thought of my mom, her great cooking and how, one day, I'd pass this cookbook on to my daughter. And maybe, just maybe, being a great cook herself, my daughter too might peruse this old book with its yellowed pages, with its cracked decaying spine and worn bluey-green cover, to produce this same cake for her loved ones.

The cake was so good, I hate to admit that it's already gone as we finished it off for breakfast!! Here's the recipe:

2 c sifted flour 2/3 to 3/4 c milk

1 tbsp sugar 2 or 3 apples

3 tsp baking powder 1/3 c brown sugar

3/4 tsp salt 1/2 tsp cinnamon

4 tbsp shortening (I used butter) 1 tbsp butter

1/2 c grated nippy cheese

Sift flour, b.powder, and salt together. Cut in shortening & cheese. Add milk to make a soft dough. Turn out on lightly floured board & knead for 1/2 minute. Pat the dough in ungreased 9" layer-cake pan. Pare apples, core and slice thin. Arrange apples in petal design over top. Sprinkle with brown sugar & cinnamon and dot with butter. Bake in hot over 425 degrees for 25 minutes. It's delish! Enjoy...we certainly did.

Our new vocation or Who says you can't herd cats?

2010-09-24T11:51:00.009-04:00

In a recent post about our cat family, I must update you! Momsie and her little crew, Roamer, Mr. Big and Frexie have all, happily, been adopted and are already in their forever homes. Sister and her husband adopted Roamer, promptly renamed him and he's now making their lives more interesting, not to mention their dog's life too!

The Shelter's foster coordinator, never one to miss a chance at filling an empty home, quickly loaded us up with 6 more kittens: a male and his five sisters. They were the offspring of a feral cat who was captured, spayed and now is likely on death row as her wild nature prevents her from ever being tamed, poor thing. Her babies had taken up residence in the woodpile in a lady's garage. The kind lady managed to capture them; hence, our new additions. Mission impossible is to tame and socialize these little wildcats so they too can find new homes.

For a week we kept them confined in a carpeted room, complete with ironing board so they could enjoy the window. They were extremely skittish and scared, hiding in anything that even remotely cover their backs. Here's how we found them, their first night at our place...all gathered in a row.

Left to right, they are:

Minnie (Mouse), Blaze (the trailblazer), Hillary (after the mountain climber), Dot-the-Spot, Pinky (ever shy) and Kally (the calico). The two grays have very different textured coats; the others all have calico faces but three are quite white-bodies, while the fourth is very calico.

We had a few worries in the early days as three came down with cat "colds" (upper respiratory infection) but the Shelter provided meds that quickly fixed that. Although it's an airborne bug, we dosed everyone for a week, and managed to fend off more infection. One, Dot-the-Spot, like the meds so much she'd come up to you asking for it! The rest, not so much.

Our next problem was moving the freezer as, being expert woodpiler-hiders, the kits had no problem burrowing behind the freezer! Check out the photos on Facebook to see how we found them. Out of the kitten room and into the kitchen the freezer went.

We have gradually introduced them to more of the house, taking care to eliminate hidey-holes to they can't sequester themselves away from us. We handle them as much as possible, brushing them, checking for ticks & fleas, and of course, just lots of petting so they do get lots of loving. There's nothing like a blanket of 6 purring, warm little fuzzballs on your lap.

When it's feeding time, I call them in a falsetto voice: Here, babies! Here, babies! and they come running. Who says you can't herd cats? But what's funniest is when hubby does the call, imitating me. They still come running and it's a hoot to see them all milling around his slippers! Food is a really big incentive!

Apart from those who've shown potential as computer programmers (a couple are helping me type this very minute), we've also discovered several of the kits aspire to be sanitation engineers. As soon as the scoop starts disturbing matters in the litter box, 2 or 3 jump right in to "assist", and of course, add to the "matter"! It's an unceasingly interesting activity to them, a little less so to us, naturally.

A friend gave them a magic wand, yes, a magic wand which they love to chase. For us, its magic is in the fact that all six will follow it avidly which is how we get them back to their room at night so we can enjoy a night's rest. Who says you can't herd cats?

Our life is enriched by these little comedians in fur coats. Their purring is calming, their antics better than anything TV can provide, and their trusting eyes, as they slowly learn how to handle us (yes, the shoe is soon on the other foot), make this one of the most satisfying volunteer "jobs" we've ever had!

Parting's sweet sorrow

2010-09-02T10:29:00.005-04:00

The past two weeks have been veiled in sadness like a damp scotch mist with the odd ray of sunshine to help push us back to the happy side of life. With heavy hearts, we handed off our first two kittens, Mr. Big & Frexie, to the local humane society for adoption.

Shortly after, we learned our sister-in-law had suddenly passed on. The eulogies at the memorial service paid homage to her memory and it was with mixed emotions we greeted family and old friends not seen in ages. Happy to see people but not under those circumstances. Such is a funeral. It's sobering to think my brother is now a widower, the first of our family to lose his spouse. And the rest of us have lost someone we've all known since childhood.

The family reunion too was bittersweet as we gladly reconnected with distant family members but regretfully, they too had to leave the party earlier than planned as a dear cousin on our cousin's mother's side had passed on.

We were pleased to reconnect with an old friend in Orangeville, enjoy her company and a fine meal plus a tour of the town. Our stay in the McKittrick Bed & Breakfast was also a highlight, as the bed was so fantastic we almost missed breakfast which was a gastronomic delight: a "cocktail" of fruit/yogurt/granola followed by farmers' market delectables, thickly buttered toasty fruit bread and strong coffee.

Happily in Whitby we surprised hubby's niece's family on the hot Saturday afternoon & enjoyed their company with a cool one poolside. On the way home, near Tweed, we picked up some home-made blue berry pies to share with friends. So good to be home.

Then sister came to pick up our last kitten, Roamer. We put that crazy little guy in the cat cage for transport. Of course, Mumsie showed her concern by walking around the cage and mewling to her last kit; she knew what was about to happen. When he reached thru the cage to pat his mum with his little white paw, my heart broke. Sister's renamed him already thus more finally cutting any ties that bind.

The next day hubby took Mumsie to the H.S. while I avoided the teary farewell by making a blood donation. Mumsie will be spayed then given to her new owner. We mentioned her predilection for licking venetian blind cords and chewing on the tassels. I imagine that was what she did when abandoned in her former home.

We went back to the H.S. however, to pick up our next family of kits: a 6-pack who'd been living, wildly, in a woodpile. I got to give Mumsie a final bit of loving then we headed home with the little ones ~ 5 girls and 1 boy ~ to spend the next few weeks nurturing and socializing them. So far we identify them by their physical traits: Bigspots, Littlespots, Fuzzyspots, Mickey (has arches over his eyes like Mickey Mouse ears), Blaze (who has a white "blaze" between his shoulders) and Callie who is calico. Three are hearty and active, one is fair to middling and the other 2 seem weak and traumatized. We hope to get them all on an even keel.

Yes, I get too attached. Yes, it hurts to give them back to the H.S. although I know they'll end up in good homes. All in our first "family" have. I've done my ugly cry and hope I'm over it...but no doubt the tears will fall again in a few weeks time when I fall apart at the Humane Society in front of the inventory they have of 110 cats + the 6 we'll be returning.

Wherever, whoever you are...please consider adopting a cat. Having a cat in your life is a wonderful experience for both you and the lucky cat.

The Little Blackfly

2010-07-27T23:57:00.004-04:00

My blogname is derived from that most infamous of pests: the blackfly. Growing up as we did in Northern Ontario alongside the Abitibi River, it behooved us - thanks to our teacher, Miss Glendenning's not-so-subtle encouragement - to learn Wade Hemsworth's song "the Blackfly". What is wonderful is that Christopher Hinton (National Film Board) used Hemsworth's song to create this marvelous little film. Do enjoy it.

At the same time this brings back memories of what we wore to save our scalps from the pernicious little buggers: fly hats. Now a fly hat was not a thing of beauty but we kids did look kind of cute. You take your standard men's handkerchief (now a rare thing to find) and you tied a knot in the top right and left hand corners. You placed the kerchief on your child's head with these little "rabbit ears" knotted corners at the child's temple then knotted the remaining two corners under his or her chin. It did save most of the scalp but many of us came home with bites running with blood (as blackflies don't seal their bites with anticoagulents the way skitters do) all along the backs of our necks. Ahhhh, the good old days!

Our new "family"

2010-06-26T16:55:00.004-04:00

As many of you may know, we are fostering a pregnant cat we'll call Momsie for the Humane Society. Not knowing how pregnant she was, we didn't know when to expect her litter. Four days later, we knew.

I'd been out socializing with the girls but got home at noon in time for hubby to nervously exclaim "You're just in time! The contractions have started!" I check her nether regions and sure enough there's a little black tail protruding. Oh no! Breech. We check a website for advice; they tell us not to worry so we massage her long spine which seems to comfort her although her contractions are quite intermittent.

At 12:55, no. 1 arrived safe and sound. Momsie did her job cleaning up her kit and chewing the umbilical cord to enable baby to separate. We're not sure of the kit's sex but it's black and white with a pretty white swoosh on the crown of his head. Already, s/he's a good rooter, looking for milk.

Half an hour later, no. 2 arrived but in the usual way: head first. And what a large head. Even Momsie squealed a little when he arrived. He's larger than no. 1 and an orangey/blonde colour. Again, Momsie dedicates herself to his cleanup & detachment.

At 2:10pm, the contractions produce a back foot! Oh, no, not another breech! All goes well and Momsie produces a tiny replica of herself, a black, white and orange calico. Once all Momsie's administrations are done, all 3 bobbleheads inch their way around, toward their just rewards and all settle down.

Ah, what a relief. Momsie's done a great job, all three kittens look healthy. No. 1 has turned in feet but they straighten out after a couple of days. No. 2 is definitely the largest and most likely male. No. 3 seems very assertive and is the most active. All is well, and we now have a beautiful little cat family.

Anniversary

2010-04-01T07:07:00.002-04:00

We celebrated 40 years of marriage yesterday: it was a lovely warm sunny day, full of activity and friendship. We updated some of the gardens around the pool with Barb, Doris and Jack, Don and Bill. Then, while hubby headed back to the condo for a nap, I caught some rays and hot tubbed. Then, all dolled up, we were off to a lovely meal at the Bon Appetit in Dunedin with Fran & Bob, Judith and Paul, while the sun slowly set in the Gulf. A pianist played and we danced to the Tennessee Waltz. We lingered over coffee, conversing with our friends and soaking up the lovely ambiance. Not wanting the evening to end, we indulged in dessert & coffee at Hellas Bakery on our way home - damn the calories, full speed ahead!

And today, reflecting on yesterday, I realize what "happy" is...it's the above. Time, effort, food, conversation shared with others. When I'd asked my friend to join us for our anniversary, she asked, "Wouldn't you rather be alone, the two of you?" And while I love [relish !] being alone with my man, I have to say the inclusion of others while we enjoyed this milestone intensified our enjoyment.

David Brooks of the New York Times wrote about happiness in a recent column : "the daily activities most associated with happiness are sex, socializing [after work] and having dinner with others." What more can I say? We's happy!!

Repetitive Emails

2010-03-18T11:56:00.003-04:00

This is a simple request for all my friends and relatives to review their group contact lists to help avoid sending duplicate emails. Here's what I really mean:

A receives an email from B. B has also included addressees C thru Z. A also has a distribution list for C thru Z and forwards B's email on to these same people. The result is an email, most usually a joke, getting sent umpty-ump times to the same people....and so on.

So just a word to the wise: please check (if it's not a blind cc) to ensure you're not contributing to email spam. Thank U!

Dance ~

2010-02-03T22:22:00.004-05:00

I've been dancing for years yet I've never fully understood until recently that dance is really language. As I dance with my partner, I realize he is "speaking" a language, conveying messages with his hands, his eyes, a turn of his head or body. In partner dance, the hands are the most important. For a man to lead, his hands must braille moves onto his partner's back or to the palm of her hand. His hand pressing on a lady's "angel wings"...he pulls her in here, pushes her there, a touch to the side,...a lifted hand, a hand pulled down, or out or away...it's all an indication of go here, go there, twirl now, keep twirling, swivel, stop, go past me, come back, do this move, do that move. Oh so easy.

But: when the touch is too light, it's hard for a lady to know where to go or what to do. If she guesses, she could make a wrong move. Also, the lady needs her partner's support, particularly when doing certain spins like "ochos". Being a pushy broad, I'm often told I'm "leading" but gentlemen: really, I only do it in the absence of your lead. I've recently tried leading (in our dance class there's a shortage of men) and now I understand why men sometimes have a soft lead. It takes a certain confidence to insist via pressure points on where you want someone else to go. So even though I am pushy (yes, I'm admitting it), I too find it hard to convey with a touch what I want my partner to do.

As with any language, it takes time. My partner and I, though we've been dancing for over 40 years, are still perfecting our "vocabulary" in dance. We have good days and bad days. When I insist on a stronger lead, he tells me he can't concentrate on the steps and me too! Dance is dance. As they say, it takes two to tango and we are learning the Argentine Tango so we must bear with each other while we learn this new "language". We love it though as it has drama, and unexpected action, and a sensuality we don't find in most North American dances. We ardently hope to become "fluent". Wish us luck!

Here's a little taste of the Argentine Tango music we dance to. It's on Youtube and is called Gotan Project's Epocha. Enjoy!

I believe

2010-01-23T08:56:00.002-05:00

I do believe in miracles altho admit in my own life they've happened rarely. We each define miracles differently as Oxford in its definition acknowledges:

miracle
• noun 1 an extraordinary and welcome event attributed to a divine agency. 2 a remarkable and very welcome occurrence. 3 an outstanding example, specimen, or achievement.

— ORIGIN Latin miraculum ‘object of wonder’.

My object of wonder was a miraculous recovery of goods. I'd been shopping for pillows last Sunday at Sears, and my next stop was at Pier One where I bought a tacky little ring, a bracelet and an evening purse, all on sale. But once back home, I got busy, stuffing the pillows into their cases and prepping the house for my soon to arrive guest. I meant to show my hubby my purchases but time and busy-ness precluded that and it wasn't until after my guest arrived that I thought to dig out my latest buys. They were not to be found. Not under the bed, not in the closet, not in any drawer, not, not, not.

My guest, ever logical, had me retrace all my steps. Retracing my steps in itself is a miracle as "memory serves" is an expression that no longer applies to me. But I did recall putting my Pier One bag in with the pillows to carry them into the house more easily. Well then, my bag must still be in the Sears bag. Where is the Sears bag? Well, it's over at the local charity, the Gulf Hospice, where we weekly deposit all our plastic bags for them to bag their clients' goods. Now that happened on Monday; it was now Friday.

Being an optimist, I go to the Gulf Hospice and enquire. The ladies check all the bags. Nothing. But the manager asks what I lost; I describe the items. "Here's one," she says taking me over to the jewellry counter where my bracelet is hanging still with the Pier One original sales tag and the discount tag! Amazing. "Give me a minute," she says then returns with a big bag of jewellry which contains, miraculously, my evening bag and ring!

Now understand that Gulf Hospice is an extremely busy second hand store, with all kinds of goodies at very cheap prices. It's incredible that my items weren't sold in minutes. Or maybe it was Divine Intervention. Or maybe my taste is sooooo tacky, that one one else in their right mind would buy my stuff even at bargain prices!!

Christmas 2009

2010-01-07T00:39:00.003-05:00

2009 was our first Christmas in Florida and I faced it with some trepidation. Yes, we are here by choice, having chosen a temperate clime over a frigid one, but that also meant choosing to leave family and our own little traditions behind at a very special time of year.

But friends, old and new, made the days before, during and after Christmas a joy. The marvels of modern technology too meant we could communicate with our loved ones to share the joy of Christmas season.

I practiced Christmas carols daily on my new piano, and my friend from down the street dropped in regularly as well to practice her piano carols and we actually played some duets which I really enjoyed.

We attended a Living Christmas Tree concert and enjoyed looking at the spectacle (similar to the one pictured here ) as well as listening to the many carols, old and new, which the “tree” presented. There were also short skits and scenarios representing various aspects of the Christmas story, all very entrancing.

Friends made sure that early in December we enjoyed a good, old homemade turkey dinner replete with all the fixin’s including very potent rum balls! Boy, was it every good!

Friends made sure we were invited to a pre-Christmas party, where we enjoyed meeting new people, renewing our acquaintance with others and sampling a wonderful table groaning with a variety of decadent hors d’oeuvres!

Friends made sure we had a Canadian friendship Christmas Eve...we both invited other friends over to our place to share an evening of music, singing, conversation and good food and drink. That it was the “White Lake contingent” but for a few other Canadians and Americans, was lovely.

Hubby made sure we attended an almost midnight mass...so it started at 9pm but the well-practised choir made sure we enjoyed and participated in singing carols for an hour with the occasional solo by very good singers, a trumpeter (female!) and a flutist. Then the actual mass began, and although everyone was in warm weather attire - I was sleeveless! (no parkas or tuques to be seen), it could have been a Christmas Eve mass anywhere.

Friends made sure we went out to a lovely restaurant for Christmas dinner and again, turkey, dressing, all the trimmings made sure our tummies felt the usual over-stuffing despite our annual best of intentions! And the margaritas were an added touch!

Floridians are like people all around the world when it comes to Christmas lights. The home and store displays were spectacular! Some homes have actual poinsettia TREES! Beautiful. So, there’s no snow but there is still plenty of beauty for the eye to soak up. And in the dark, one barely misses the lights’ reflection on snow.

Our tree was the smallest tree we’ve ever had (a tiny fake evergreen, festooned in pink and gold). But it twinkled merrily and red candles, a flaming red poinsettia (a gift from our neighbours), cookies from friends and my painting of a great big Christmas tree on our patio door, all added to the festive look of our condo. Our neighbour festooned our joint condo with outdoor lights which illuminated our corner of the street, always a welcome sight driving home at night after being out dancing.

One thing I didn’t miss was the trepidation of driving in the snow...and I breath a sigh of relief as I write that.

So, in sum, Christmas in Florida ain’t half bad. It came and went as it always does, too quickly. We enjoyed each other, our family and friends, and our little home-away-from-home albeit in somewhat different ways from what we are used to. But the fellowship of Christmas remained intact as did the spiritual celebration. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about?

The above image is thanks to Dave Dieter / Huntsville Times.

No more mortgage hunting

2010-01-03T21:14:00.004-05:00

Now, where was I? Oh, yes...we'd looked at a fixer-upper. And decided after 1) seeing it and 2) after the cruise that yes, we'd like to buy. But as you know, you cruise - you lose! We should have made our move right after point 1! Someone made a successful bid the very day we looked. So you guessed it, we lost out. Now there are at least 18 units for sale here, some on MLS, some privately. We made a contract offer with another lady but were refused.

So, despite our yearnings, we're going to follow our investment counsellor's advice and sit tight and rent again next year. So far, we've maybe 3 or 4 choices (2 for sure, 2 iffy). We have decided to rent one upper on the water, with a kitchen balcony facing the morning sun and a lanai facing the evening sunset. The best part is it has a King in the Master Bedroom, and a queen in the guest room. Why is that the best part? Because you have to sleep 7 or 8 hours as do your guests and if no one is comfie, then you're in a dud. The orientation to the sun is also important as we are Canadians looking (like geckos) to bask in the sun! The price is a consideration but you get what you pay for so for us, that's just part of the whole negotiation. That it be furnished is a must as we only bring clothes and golf clubs down with us (and occasionally a piano, or a living room set).

So, now we actually relax (people who know me will doubt this) and enjoy what Florida has to offer. No more real estate conniving...it's a hard addiction to give up but I AM TRYING!!!!

...and in the news

2009-12-11T11:41:00.003-05:00

You gotta wonder about the state of the world when this is a front page headline in our local Florida paper:

GUNS ARE RIDING HIGH ON HOLIDAY GIFT LISTS by Drew Harwell (take note especially of the last 7 paragraphs!!)

Then...
Female whooping crane shot in Indiana - story by Barbara Behrendt The cranes are half way in their journey south to Florida...I wish them Godspeed and good luck. Pray no idiot interferes.

As for the concept of being here first...wanna know what happens to wandering gators? According to Rita Farlow’s article(St. Pete Times), trapper Charles Carpenter, who corraled a reptile on someone's patio and loaded it onto a trailer, said the gator weighed "a couple hundred pounds" and likely came from nearby Lake Tarpon.
Carpenter said he wasn't sure of the alligator's gender.
"I asked it how much it weighed and it wouldn't tell me, so it was probably a girl," he said.
Nuisance gators are "processed for their meat and hide," said commission spokesman Gary Morse. Or, as Carpenter put it: "It's headed to the restaurant prep area."

So now you’re hungry...according to this book Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer’s latest book: “On average, Americans eat the equivalent of 21,000 entire animals in a lifetime—one for every letter on the last five pages.”

Kinda turns you off, eh?

And if you’re a golfer...my bad! This article reveals he true nature of the loch Ness monster:

"In November, researchers roaming the depths of Scotland's Loch Ness in a submarine, looking for the legendary monster, reported finding mainly "hundreds of thousands" of golf balls at the bottom, from popular use of the lake as a driving range. A recent Danish Golf Association report lamented the slow decomposition of golf balls (taking 100 to 1,000 years), and one U.K. legislator has called golf balls "humanity's signature litter." [CNN, 11-10-09]

So if we can create bio-degradable tees why the heck can't we do something similar with golf balls!!???

That was an excerpt from "News of the Weird". Read more of Chuck Shepherd’s news of the weird.

And finally, someone getting the Christmas spirit a tad wrong: this article by Mike Morris of the The Atlanta Journal-Constitution describing an Elf who caused a mall evacuation...yeah, Santa's not really into bombs!

What a world!!! But there is some good news...kids and dogs still love to play. Catch this cute video from the Dec. 11/09 Bonnie Hunt show

Hit the Wall

2009-12-10T13:18:00.005-05:00

Not proud of it but here's my wall climbing effort aboard the Monarch of the Seas. Thankfully a lady snapped these and offered to send them to me. Thank you, Sheri!

Dancing by Starlight

2009-12-09T09:26:00.002-05:00

We have joined the Starlight Dance studio to improve our old dance steps and learn new ones. Hans & Judy are super instructors who still compete. They offer 6 nights of dancing per week plus 5 nights of instruction not including their afternoon tea dances. A friend recommended them to us and we're so glad they did. We're gradually improving our Argentine tango, swing and salsa, and then having lots of time to practice and meet new people.

The club, tucked away in Dunedin, Fl., is set up like a bistro with small tables complete with tablecloths, surrounding the dance floor which has a full mirrored wall as well. Their club includes a small boutique where you can purchase dance shoes, and outfits. Other pro's also attend their dances so people can have a taste of what it's like to dance with an expert. It's thrilling! You don't know what dancing is until Hans or Terry or Tim has you floating effortlessly around the floor.

Hans & Judy are now on Twitter and Hans maintains a blog as well. Be sure to check them out.

If you're ever inclined to trip the light fantastic, this studio is the place to be. They not only offer excellent instruction but also wonderful eclectic music and friendship. We're having a ball! Thanks, Hans and Judy!

Cruisin'...

2009-12-07T08:38:00.003-05:00

We are no longer cruise virgins...our first time is over! But we're grateful friends convinced us to try cruising. No, I'm not talking cars; I'm talking ships! Ours was the Royal Caribbean's Monarch of the Seas and she was big enough, old enough and fun enough for us.

Our first impression was her size, the second was with how quickly and efficiently staff could process over 2400 clients onto her! The drinks start immediately upon boarding. Who could resist a nice pina colada in a blue flashing glass with an umbrella? Once on board, our friends took us on a "discover the boat" tour to orient us to the various restaurants, pools and other amenities on board.

Each night dinner was divine. The chef(s) seemed to outdo themselves every night. The menu provided insights as to what was healthy, what was low fat or no sugar. I liked their "vitality" symbol which helped me select the lower calorie offerings. Yes, Virginia; you can stick to your diet while cruising but those desserts!!! It's not easy. Even our friends who have cruised extensively were impressed with the quality and presentation of the food.

I think dinner was my favourite time of the day. We & our friends had great conversations with the two other couples at our table: two sisters and their husbands. Our waiter Vedasto was a hoot, singing, playing the guitar, playing jokes (on the two sisters, thankfully) but more importantly doing his job by giving us excellent service and advice on the evening's offerings.

The ship had two pools and two hot tubs, a gym (which I never did enter), a wall to climb, many dancefloors and show rooms, lounges, atriums, etc. The quality of the shows, their singers, dancers and musicians were also very impressive. The cruise director, a Canadian from Toronto, made sure we always had something fun to do. I even won a "guess the lyrics" contest, more from good luck than good knowledge. Who the Hell are Bananarama anyway (I'm sure my friend Pat will tell me)? If you missed a show you could catch it later on TV in your stateroom.

Yes, the stateroom was teensy but we were only in them to sleep, shower, dress so that wasn't a big deal (unless you suffered from claustrophobia).

So our agenda was like this:
Day One - orientation including what to do in case of emergency (mandatory).

Day Two - brekkie with friends then onto a tender which took us to the ship's island CocoCay where we sunned, snorkelled (marvelled at the fish) then got back for dins and a very good show. Also took in Karaoke which ran every night.

Day Three - brekkie with friends then off to tour Nassau (of which viewing Atlantis was one of the highlights), an afternoon at the Sheraton's pool plus snorkelling at their lagoon (where the fish are just a little too hungry for my liking - they were tasting ME!). Then we took a little local bus ($1.25) downtown to find the Tortuga Bakery which sells the best ever rum cakes. Ummm! Back to the ship for dins, a salsa lesson or was that the night we learned some new line dancing or was that the night I won the Guess the Lyrics contest? After a while it's all a blur and I don't keep a diary.

Day Four was spent at sea. The sun, the breeze plus we'd found a special private sun spot at the very back of the boat between two decks made the day glorious. Until the Captain announced a little boy needed to be airlifted off the upper deck. Soon, people kicked off the upper level were crawling all over us, all conjecturing (appendicitus, broken leg?). Hubby watched the air lift exercise then returned to report on how it worked. The closing show was spectacular. Every musical presentation was wonderful and we were in awe of the talent.

Day Five - normally we'd breakfast in the WindJammer, a self-serve buffet resto but on the last day, we opted to try the dining room breakfast for once. We weren't disappointed. Upon leaving the ship, we were "processed" even more quickly off than we'd been processed on. Back to reality. Back to rain!!! Back to the condo and laundry. It felt in retrospect like being a Queen and King for four days...who can beat that? But like Cinderella, the humdrum of regular life must resume although I've still got my Prince Charming to see me through!

...and in the news

2009-11-29T09:33:00.006-05:00

American news, that is:

One in 8 Americans is being fed via food stamps.

Black Friday (US version of Canada's boxing day only just after their Thanksgiving) saw sales of $10.66 BILLION! No indication of how much of that was cash or credit.
A 13 year old girl committed suicide after her "sext" to a friend was circulated throughout her school, wrote prior... "I'm what they call the inbetween. I'm not pretty enough, ugly enough, smart enough, dumb enough, good enough, bad enough, nice enough, or even mean enough." (Sexting is like texting only usually with an image of a sexual nature, i.e., nude.) How use of technology seems to enhance bullying...sad.

Think you have a problem with "stuff"? Watch A&E this Monday @ 10pm to see if you really do have a problem!

Poor Tiger Woods...so many jokes about his driving (his car, that is)...but if you check on Twitter, very, very few expressed any concern for the man himself. Instead they all jumped on the scandal wagon. Makes you wonder about people...whatever happened to caring...even the teensiest bit?

And in the good news corner, despite it still being NOVEMBER!! & all the radio stations are cramming Christmas tunes down our throats ad nauseum, here are truly glad tidings:

Tarpon Turtle

2009-11-27T23:10:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was the American Thanksgiving so what hungry Canadian could resist also celebrating? Off to the Tarpon Turtle for dins. I decided to forego the turkey and opted for shrimp primavera. Everyone else, hubby included, ordered the turkey, some including ham!

What a feast! Each plate had enough on it to feed two people! Beans, stuffing, potato with gravy, turkey, ham, squash, cranberries plus choice of two desserts, one pumpkin, the other apple. Some of us jumped at the chance to taste their wonderful key lime pie, certainly not a disappointment.

The Tarpon Turtle is located on the north end of Lake Tarpon and offers a marvelous view from its dock. We chose to sit inside as it was a little chilly last night. The server was very attentive and the food tasted great. Meal cost was in the $70 range for two, that is, if you also had wine. We had a marvelous time and headed home more stuffed than the turkey had been.

Regrettably, I didn't fare too well later as my discomfort moved from that of mildly full to awfully sick. Might have been the shrimp, or something else - who knows? But hubby wasn't sick nor were any of the others so I surmise something I'd eaten strongly disagreed with me. It happens. I'm a-ok now but I'll call the restaurant tomorrow to let them know.

Still, it was a very nice evening in a very nice location, not far from home. Guess you have to chalk it up to "you win some, you lose some."

Mortgage Hunting

2009-11-25T14:48:00.003-05:00

We've pretty much made up our minds to go for the fixer upper! But that means, apart from our down payment, finding a bank to lend us the difference. So...what do we learn?

Bankers down here are very nervous. And given the recession, rightly so. First question:

are you American? No.
do you have a social insurance number? Yes, but it's a Canadian SIN.
what type of house are you buying? We're interested in a condo.

Well, that won't do! Doesn't matter what your assets, what your credit history, what your down payment, we don't want to touch you.

Many investors (speculators) have dropped their investments and left the banks hanging. Banks are particulately not interested in mortgaging condos (which is what we're trying to buy) because condos are in a bad position given the incidence of foreclosures and a lack of condo owners paying monthly condo fees. The whole structure is in a downward spiral.

So, right now attitude is key. Are we positive, forward-looking people or pessimists? Well, I'd like to think we're the former so damn the torpedos, full speed ahead.

On the plus side, we're not investors per se. We're not looking to make money, only to have a second home, a home-away-from-home, one we plan on living in for repeating six months stints over the next umpteen years, God willing.

We'll keep you posted on our progress. In the meantime, other condo offerings just keep coming our way. Just this minute, a friend called to say her next-door neighbour is selling her upper floor unit. Would we like to look?

Decisions, decisions.

The Dilemma Begins Again!

2009-11-21T12:37:00.002-05:00

Yet again, I have real estate fever. Several options have presented themselves:

a fixer upper which we could reno, live in and eventually flip (means sweat equity and lots of it!) but then we could more easily obtain a nice place on the water; or
an all-done walk-in-with-your-toothbrush & on the water place (means a mortgage and lots of it).
do nothing and stick with our rental
look around to see if there are other bargains...

Decisions, decisions!

When you have too many decisions and it's hurting your head, whaddya do? Go dancing. Having a great time dancing at the Starlight Studio in Dunedin...wish you were here.

Fall 2009

2009-09-01T21:26:00.005-04:00

Readers, I've taken a short sabbatical from writing over the summer. Not from a lack of things to say (I've always got something to say) but just a kind of ennui with the whole thing. But many readers -- OK, four -- have prompted me to get back at it, so here I am.

Fall is definitely here when you hear the kabang of nuts falling on the tin roof of the neighbour's shed. It's also fall when in the dark of an evening's hot tub you hear the raccoon family munching on said nuts. It's ducking as the local jet fighters, better known as humming birds, caroom crazily over your head, protecting their turf, chittering frantically in their eensey weensey tiny bird voices. It's here when you look across the lake and discern burgundy amongst the green leaves. It's here when you sense the need to cram in as many golf games as you can since the good weather can't possibly last. Fall is pulling out gone-to-seed radishes from your garden, sharing oodles of cucumbers, tomatoes and zucchini with friends and praying the geraniums still have more bloom time. It's no longer back-to-school for us although I do intend to go back to piano lessons, yoga lessons and to following Canada's Food Guide. So many good intentions, it almost feels like New Year's. It's a time of warm days and cool nights and the breezes hold a hint of chill, just enough to want a sweater. Yes, it's Fall.

Playing Catch-up

2009-06-02T22:57:00.002-04:00

I've been remiss, dear reader, in not keeping up! So...here's an update:

Unhappily, something got the baby robins. We found baby-sized feathers on the lawn. Not a beak or a claw was left. We can only hope at least one escaped the massacre. Mother Nature can be so cruel. They were so close to fledging. My heart breaks.
We've painted the deck. Yes, my darling. Blue again.
The perennials are doing their thing so I've added some annuals. Ye olde garden is looking pretty good. Now to tackle the veggie garden.
Dear friend T visited last week from BC. What a girl. We had our fill of girlie talk, catching up on years apart. Funny, we haven't changed a bit. We miss her already but she tells me she and her special man are making a road trip here next summer. Yes!
I have a new project underway: a neat flag hung between the two birches which, unfortunately have died. Surely we can resurrect them as works of art? Only Rona can say (the flag I want is one of Rona's display flags).
My sister L's concert was excellent. Check out the Capital Chordettes if you ever get a chance and certainly the men's quartet Real Time. They were professional level and the best I've ever heard. What a show!
Golf is taking a back seat for the moment but I promise to tell you about my last but best game soon.
Gotta go hot tub...catch ya later!

Can do, Condo?

2009-05-20T22:36:00.003-04:00

I realize I've left you hanging re the long sad condo story. So, to set the record straight, here's an update:

We didn't buy the condo we fell in love with because:
a) the Florida seller wanted to close June 1; and
b) we didn't have a firm date on the closing date of our own sale in Ottawa; and
c) we didn't want to take on bridge financing as that could have potentially had us on the hook for 3 places: the condo we're selling, the condo we were trying to buy and our own home in Ontario.

As you know, God opens a window when he closes a door. We met Mrs. L. who is trying to swap her upper condo (in the same Florida project) for the lower condo underneath her's. We suggested that rather than do a swap with her lower neighbour (he'd been reluctant to do the swap then try to sell her upper - confused yet?), we would offer to buy her upper so she could buy her neighbour's lower unit. So, long story short: now we wait to find out if Mrs. L. is successful. Her unit is lovely, in great shape and has water view from both front and back. Plus it'll come partially furnished!

If Mrs. L. isn't successful, no worries. We hope this fall we can re-rent the unit we had. Time will tell. In the meantime, it's so nice to be home although our backs are aching as we weed, weed, weed! Once the weeding is done, then the spring planting starts, then the spring spruce up begins (painting, painting, painting) then back to a little golf...that is: if we remember how and our bodies cooperate! Hubby better get that hot tub up and running soon!

So, no. We are NOT the owners of a new condo but ya never know....

I was missed!

2009-05-18T22:23:00.000-04:00

Now I know why people so love dogs. It’s because the dogs so love them.

I learned this upon our return from the south. One of my first visits was to the owners of the dog I walk: Spencer’s people. I was a little disappointed. Spencer, himself, was out being walked by Mrs. C’s daughter so we sat and chatted, awaiting his return.

Eventually, in comes Himself, feeling happy and cocky after a satisfying walk. Ever polite, he trots up to acknowledge his master, nudges his mistress then he sits and looks at me. There’s a little pause, maybe 3 seconds. Then…he explodes! He’s like a dog with an interior firecracker! He jumps, and barks, and sniffs, and spits, and licks, and wags, and wiggles and wildly cavorts on me, off me, at me! We laugh just as wildly at his antics.

To put it in Mrs. C’s words: “Well, I guess he knows who you are!”

It was nice to be missed if only by my little four-footed friend and wonderful to see how a dog can show you how much you were missed.

Mother Nature at Work...

2009-05-13T21:13:00.004-04:00

We are welcomed home by a new arrival: a spring robin has made her nest over the living room window which also faces our deck. So, to enter the house, we’re disturbing the robin. I promptly put up a sign: Ssh! Robin on nest. Use garage entry.

Everyone is very respectful.

Ms Robin sits dutifully on a clutch of who knows how many eggs. Periodically, she flies off but always faithfully returns. One day we are rewarded with the view of not one, not two but FOUR bald little heads -- beaks open wide, on scrawny bare-skinned necks -- wobbling to and fro they look for all the world like little flowers swaying in unison in the breeze.

It amazes me Mother Robin is so diligent. What is it drives her to feed those hungry, demanding mouths? How does she remember where the babies are? Sometimes we worry when she stays away too long but sure enough, one more look and there she is. Standing on the nest edge, filling beak after beak, with still wriggling worms.

The nest is very full and we wonder how everyone will fit in once they grow a little. Someone might have to move out on the ledge. The good news is, once they try flying, the deck isn’t too far a fall.

We hope as we shiver under our own covers on cold nights, that mother is keeping them warm under her rusty feather breast.

Mother Robin’s steadfastness and the babies’ fragility touch me. Watching Mother Nature at work, I can only hope She’ll let this little mother succeed so these four little robins survive and thrive.

We're no longer in Florida, Toto

2009-05-08T12:45:00.003-04:00

Leaving any place is hard for me. I’m the type of person who is usually always in the present: I am where I am. But Friday morning sees us up early, packing last minute things, moving odds ‘n sods upstairs to our wonderful American neighbours who have graciously offered to store things for us for the summer. We do last minute cleaning, turn off the water, snap off the power to the hot water tank. Lock up. Squeeze in a few more last minute good-byes, then head up Hwy 19 to find the Shelter, where our donation of foodstuffs from the fridge is gratefully received.

We head north, then east across the top of Florida, then north again, our car so loaded we feel like a two-headed turtle, our house on our back. The divides between the highways here are filled with masses of fuschia pink flowers, miles of them. We see a poor little armadillo – lying on his back in a pose of total submission, feet up – his armour not strong enough to save him from the car that hit him. We pass stall after stall of boiled peanut sellers. They’re irresistible to me but hubby keeps driving. No room in the car, he says. Plenty of room in my stomach, I think. Then through farmland – peanut farmers. Past the Goethe State Park whose tall looming trees remind us of a park we’d seen in south western Australia.

Into Georgia, we follow the 26 into Columbia where we decide to spend the night. We pass an accident - a snatch of a scene – a young lady rubbing her hands up and down the arms of a small boy, his chin on his chest; a white car roof just visible down a ravine, people milling about. Soon, ambulances pass us going to their aid. It’s a sombre reminder how quickly things can go wrong.

Registered at the Days Inn, we walk down the street for the exercise to dins at Chick-Fil-A, a fast food franchise we’ve never been to before. Their advertising campaign is what tickles me: a cow in business-man attire holding a placard that says “Eat chikin”. Hubby tips the order taker (it’s like a McDo’s). She doesn’t notice until we’re seated. She comes to our table, money in hand: “You forgot your change.” She’s pleased when we say “It’s for you.” We surmise people don’t tip in these places.

We can’t get wi-fi in our hotel room but no matter. A little tv, a hot shower and a delightfully soft bed and we’re off to dreamland. In the morning, I notice hubby has stashed the camera under the tv stand (ever security conscious); I stash it in my purse.

Breakfast is at Shoney’s across the street, a buffet of different southern foods: crispy pork rinds, grits, strawberry-glazed bananas, the ubiquitous (tea) biscuits, a strange breaded hamburger thing, chicken nuggets, salads, and the usual other brekkie foods. We are the racial minority in this Shoney’s we notice. We can hardly understand our waitress but we are well served and leave stuffed.

The geography shifts as we enter South Carolina on the I-77. Gone are Georgia’s tidal flats and rivers, replaced by mountainous ridges and vertiginous valleys. The flowers in the highway divides are just as multitudinous as Florida’s but now they appear to be bright red poppies waving us along. Spring has definitely sprung here: I see lilacs, wild cherry and other flowering shrubs in full bloom – purples, pinks and whites. Winter’s dead grasses are turning emerald green and the trees, leaves unfurling in the warm spring sun, are a steady mural of every green under the sun. Seen from afar they look like a coverlet of densely-packed broccoli, softening the contours of the mountain ridges.

This be deer country; we see the odd warning sign not to mention carcasses. The temp has dropped from 30 to 20 – it’s cooler in the mountains and cloudy. But the vistas make us rubber-neck: black and white Jerseys ly peacefullydotting lush meadows; tiny farms interspersed on massive green fields, the odd one littered with old junkers; whole counties spread like real live google maps before us, tiny hamlets like toy villages. We’ve definitely left the tropical feel behind. No palm trees here.

I ask hubby about the camera; did he pick it up? No answer. Either he didn’t hear me or he’s trying to remember. An hour later, he confesses quietly: “I left the camera under the tv; we better turn around.” I can’t help but laugh out loud as I in turn make my confession, “It’s in my purse.” Such are the moments in a marriage.

The state of Virginia has an interesting sign that says: Buckle up, Virginia. It’s a law we can live with. I like that!

Two mountain ranges keep us company on either side of us for a long distance. We enter the Shenandoah Valley, Pennsylvania, looking for both an Econolodge and an Applebee’s but when we find them in proximity, it seems too early to stop. We carry on to a little hole in the wall place: Pine Grove but it has an Econolodge and a restaurant with good home cookin’ called Gooseberry’s.

Our night isn’t the best however: we have amourous neighbours. In all our travels, we’ve never encountered this problem but a problem it is. There’s a locked connecting door between our rooms – perhaps that’s why their ardour is so audible. We keep the volume up on the tv but eventually must turn it off to sleep. We consider changing rooms but thinking they’ll stop eventually, fall asleep to the sounds of their obviously intense coupling. 4:09 am, they’re at it again. Hard to believe. Ever analytical, the variety of ohhs, and ahhhhs, lead me to believe there must be two couples or maybe two women, one man. Whoever it is has the stamina of athletes as they are not soon silent. We’re glad to be quit of that place but as we drive away, we conclude maybe our neighbours were watching pornos with the sound up too loud! We'll never know.

We drive along under grey skies and rain. The temp is 50 degrees. Gradually, the fauna changes as we travel. It’s like going back in time or experiencing a season reversal: in Florida, it was summery, like July, flowers and greenery everywhere. In the middle states, it’s like June with blossoms everywhere, little spots of white, pink or purple amongst the unfolding green leaves. Here in Pennsylvania, it’s truly May. The trees have not yet budded, some still wear last year’s rusty leaves. The grass is greening but winter’s wear is still evident.

We discuss stopping to golf at Malone but the weather and the cost doesn’t encourage us so we opt to head directly home, checking via internet first to see what value we’re permitted to declare to Canada Border Services. Yes, with any thought of entering Canada, one must first think of the government and maintaining good relations. We breeze through after confessing to spending most of our money on golf. I think the young CBS agent has a soft spot for us after that confession, seeing as how he's confined to his little box questioning returning holidayers. Must be an awful job.

And now we’re home! Yeah, Canada!!!!!

Last Night

2009-05-02T20:47:00.002-04:00

It’s our last night; we repose in the hot tub at dusk. We have the pool area totally to ourselves. The sky is pink, no stars out yet. The birds on the point are doing their dusk toilette, each group separately splunking their heads and bodies in the water, fluttering their wings, then settling down to groom their feathers.

We spy 3 little boys scooching under the large gazebo party room that protrudes into the lagoon. They all look younger than 11, dressed in sloppy tees, shorts and sneakers, the uniform of kids everywhere. They remind me of the boys in Stephen Kings “Stand by Me.” They’re sneaking along the grassy bank when one strawberry blonde head pops up; he makes eye contact with hubby, ducks, then slowly stands, knowing he’s been made. “Hello,” he says. “We’re just lookin’ for shells,” he says apologetically, shyly. I think to myself, he’s been caught at this before. I also know there’s no shells to be found around this lagoon; clam shells, maybe. His bigger dark-haired friend asks enthusiastically, making good eye contact (not shy, this one) “Can we hot tub too?” The third, the littlest blond, says nothing replying on the first speaker who looks to be his older brother.

In that instant, we’re faced with choices all “for their own good”:
· Reprimand them and send them on their way, remind them this is private property and they’re not supposed to be here. (We’re well aware the condo board is contemplating gating the entire community, a move we are against should we ever own here.)
· Tell them no children are allowed in the pool or hot tub without their parents.
· Warn them to stay away from the water; there might be alligators in there that would find a little boy a tasty morsel.
· Do nothing.

I well remember what it’s like to be a kid, to be in a place you’re not supposed or allowed to be, the fear of adults, of being caught. I well remember looking for stuff along the river’s edge, the adventure of it all. And that is my undoing. I don’t do the responsible adult thing, nor does my husband. We all pretend they might actually belong in the complex when I say “You can’t come into the hot tub without your parents. Are your parents around?” Knowing full well their parents are likely many blocks away and totally unaware of these kids’ whereabouts. “Nahhh,” says the biggest boy, and they slowly edge away toward a fence overwhelmed in white honeysuckle, where they stop, remove their sneakers and duck through a boy-sized hole in the fence barely visible through the honeysuckle camouflage. We watch them meander around the lagoon, round the point and go out of sight.

Hubby says, “I’ll bet those kids have done that a thousand times.” I worry that I’ve failed them. I should have done the adult thing: walked them safely out through the gate. What if something happens to them? Too late now.

Once home, we’re busy cleaning out cupboards, packing. It’s now dark but through the open door I hear boys’ voices. “Hey guys!” I shout out the screened patio door. I go out. Not a boy to be seen. But they’ve heard me. They reappear around the corner of the carport. Quietly,“Yes, ma’am?”
I usher them into the kitchen. Can your families use some groceries, I ask. More scuffling of feet and shy replies. I show them what’s in the bags I’ve filled. Rice, Gatorade mix, Quik, jello, rice, spaghetti and so on. The biggest boy takes the two bags, hefts them. I could take the Gatorade and the Quik he says, his self-interest obvious. Couldn’t you use it all? I persist wanting to unload these goods, thinking times are tough and anyone would be glad of a few free groceries but of course of our own self-interest: it’s shameful to waste. But, ma’am. Do you know where Wendy’s is? (I don’t.) Well, I gotta walk all that way home. These bags are too heavy. But my mom’s on foodstamps...his voice dies away.

I briefly consider driving them home. Not a wise move – I’ve made enough mistakes for one night. Well, I tell him, you guys take what you can carry, ok? Ok. One spots the golf balls hubby has accumulated in an egg tray. “Golfballs!” he oogles them like he’s spotted gold. I give him some making him promise not to throw them at anyone or anything, particularly windows, wondering at the same time if I’m contributing to juvenile delinquency. I’m such a worry wart. He solemnly promises.
They shuffle out the door, laden with their bags, into the darkening night. Hubby misses this whole exchange as, wonderful husband that he is, he was vacuuming the bedroom rug.

I feel relieved. Relieved that they’re all ok. That they’re on their way home. That everything turned out ok. That we didn’t fail them after all.
************************************************************
But back to the gator thing. It’s a very real consideration down here. People have often told us of the gator that used to live in the lagoon. It got so big, they had to call the gator handlers (whoever they are). A. Tells me they arrived in a boat, put a dead chicken on a line into the water and before long, along comes Mr Gator looking for his chicken dinner. They noosed him, hauled him into the boat, duct taped his dangerous jaw, then hog-tied (well, gator-tied) him, and boom, they were gone. Whole thing took 15 minutes, A. said. She didn’t know what the handlers did with him after that. A gator farm? The abbatoir (for one can order gator steaks down here)? She didn’t know.

The Lady Lakers (the condo’s group of women golfers) also told me of a big ole gator who resided at Forest Hill Golf Course where they golfed. Ya never had to worry about him, they said. Biggest gator they’d ever seen, they said. He’d been a resident of the golf course for years when someone up and killed him. Everyone was sorry for his loss. They still talk about him; I think they miss him.

Shortly before we leave, the talk around the condo project is the 8-foot gator found sleeping under a demo car at the Toyoto dealership which is just one street over from us. Turns out a lady went to take a spin on a car only to find the gator taking a snooze. Coulda been a real ankle-biter, I thought, imagining the lady’s foot and ankle from the gator’s perspective. I hope he was facing the other way. Anyway, she discovered him before he discovered her, thank Heavens! The Toyota dealership got some free publicity – good or bad – it’s still good publicity when your dealership name is plastered across the news. I guess the gator got rustled up by the gator handlers, and the lady, no doubt, needed a valium. And I can’t speak for others in the condo project, but I’m a lot more careful when we trot down to the hot tub at night. You just never know....

Now I'm sorry I've written this as I'll never get my dear gator-fearing sister-in-law to come down to visit again!

What I'll miss

2009-04-28T11:20:00.004-04:00

Today is our daughter's birthday. Happy Birthday, dear E-L-T!!!

Our time in Florida is coming to a close. I'll miss

the morning sun shining into the living and dining rooms
exercising with the girls in the pool every morning at 10am
the geckos racing before our feet as we walk the path to our door
H & M greeting us every day and being such helpful friends
the many other friends we've made here
the gym, the pool, the library
our dance instructors, Grace and Burt
how people sell papers and Heaven knows what else at the intersections
Starz, where we've found The Most Delicious Breakfasts!
the guys we golf with
wearing my bathing suit every day
hot tubbing every evening
dancing whenever we want to
watching the amazing bird life (eagles, ospreys, cranes, ducks of every hued feather) which abounds here...

and the list goes on. But we've so much to look forward to cuz you know the saying, "There's no place like home!"

Chromax - I'm in love!

2009-04-26T08:11:00.005-04:00

One falls in love with people, places, animals and things. And sometimes it happens without you even being fully aware. My current attraction started in a golf game. We were playing River Ridge, me having a great game, Tess not so much because it's a very short tight and tough course and he's a long, sometimes wild, hitter. We join up with 2 guys on the front who leave us after nine holes. We proceed to hole 10 where we're joined by another couple, Maxine and Bob. They play much like we do and we enjoy their company. I notice her ball.

Now normally golf balls do not attract me in any way shape or form. They're round, dimpled, more or less all the same size, sometimes coloured but mostly white. All are touted to go further and straighter than the rest. But Maxine's ball...well, it shone. It was pink, and shiney reflecting the sun, and looked exactly like a glass ball fallen off a Christmas tree. It looked like an irridescent jewel lying there on the green. I had to ask.

What kind of ball is that? Where did you get it? Does it play like other balls? How does it feel?

Maxine was pretty pleased with her ball (her husband, less so. Men seem to be traditionalists when it comes to golf balls; women experiment). It's a Chromax ball, she said. She answers the rest of my questions. When I get home I do a little research.

Turns out the Chromax ball has a very unique metallic finish which stands out from the usual line of balls. Take a look at this ball: http://www.chromaxgolf.com/product.php and simply click on the colour of the small balls to see it bigger. Truthfully, the picture doesn't do it justice. But on a sunny day, sitting on a tee....wow! It's a thing of beauty, all glitter and bling!

Chromax says they launched this ball in 2007 at the annual PGA Golf show in Orlando. "We love the traditions of golf but wanted something a little different. We love colored golf balls. However, more than just a golf ball with color, we wanted something that would really enhance the game of golf. What we came up with was Chromax golf balls. The Chromax golf ball has a metallic layer that reflects sunlight like a mirror and its elegant colors add a little character. Easy to see and beautiful to look at. That's what we were after. Of course, we also made sure it's UGSA tournament legal because we don't want to change the game. We just want to make it a little more fun."

Now there's a company I could invest in and will, by buying a set of these balls.

Addendum: We didn't find any balls at the store Maxine recommended. Sold out, the guy said. We tried the Flea Market golf stall. Sold out, that guy said, adding, he feels guilty charging that much for golf balls ($19.95 for 6 balls) when people are just going to lose 'em anyway. I advised him it's primarily women who'd buy a ball like that and women are notoriously straight shooters who know to drop old balls down when they have to hit over water, so it's likely they won't be losing their Chromax's any time soon. He laughed.

So, we can buy online or keep our eyes open at any golf shops. Happy golfing, y'all!

Kay Ryan - US Poet Laureate

2009-04-19T08:37:00.009-04:00

Sometimes those pop-ups you see on certain web pages come in handy, for that is how I found Kay Ryan, US Poet Laureate. Kay would be reading at the University of Southern Florida in Tampa, a mere 40 minute drive away on Wednesday night. We have 2 choices, I tell my husband: go dancing or go listen to Ms Ryan. After all, how often would we have the chance to hear a US Poet Laureate ? Surprisingly, he chooses the poet reading. And I think to myself: this guy really loves me. Or maybe he'd simply rather drive than dance but I'm not so sure that's true.

We head off to USF but, of course, we never truly follow Nuvi, our wonderful little Garmin navigator. Let's try this road, we say, then Nuvi takes us on one hell of a cross-country tour. We see places we've never seen before but it's going to be touch and go. Finally finding USF's campus, we find a parking spot, should pay for parking at a machine but we don't have change, we're late, we rush in. Everyone is seated in the Traditions Hall of the Gibbons Alumni Centre, a large welcoming room whose moveable air walls have fully opened the 3 sections which are filled with people of every age: many students, many mature people, many children; and people of every hue and tone. Obviously poets appeal to everyone. Some eyes watch us as we seat ourselves, even Kay Ryan herself sees us for we are in that embarassingly conspicuous state: late! and having to take seats near the front.

Kay Ryan is a diminutive woman or maybe it's just the lectern in front of her that makes her appear so. Her photo makes her look mannish. But in person she isn't. She sports elegant but casual clothes: I like her blood red sandals, and look at her toes. She reads us selected poems she's written, sometimes several times over to ensure we "get it." She explains. She backtracks. She backfills. She asks us to think. Her words move us. she spills water on her poetry. Laughs. She touches our hearts. People oohh and ahhh as her words bounce off the timpani of their ears, brains, souls. And all too soon, it is over. The evening has passed and I'm left with snippets of phrases and images never before imagined. Behind us, as we rise to leave, a young black boy about 12 proudly discusses with his family the question he was brave enough to pose. Kay Ryan withdraws to another area where she will sign her books and speak to her public. I'd like to buy one or more books but...

It's late, and the line-up is long, and I'm shy. What would I say? And hubby is tired and has had enough. We hurry into the night's dark heat, towards our car but before reaching it, my heart plummets when he announces he's can't find the car keys. Has lost the car keys. Stay calm, I say. I envisage calling a lock smith. Hubby envisages renting a car to retrieve our keys at home (I hadn't brought my purse in which the spare keys reside).

We retrace our steps slowly intently searching. We question the organizer about lost keys and lost and found. He takes us to the administrator, a burly and very kind African-American man who walks with us, small flashlight in hand, to help us find the keys. Nothing. I leave the men searching around the car and walk again to the parking meter, where we'd been stymied but hurried upon arriving. There not 3 feet from the meter are our keys! Thank God! We shake the administrator's hand and thank him for his helpfulness. And drive off into the Florida night...grateful, grateful, grateful in more ways than one.

To read some of Kay Ryan's poetry, simply google her name. I like this one about a turtle: http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/083.html which is on a site that offers American high schoolers a poem a day. Not a bad thing to add to your favourites. Kay plays with clichés. I think I'll try it.

Here's my poem, a tribute to Kay Ryan:

Kay Ryan addresses us not in a dress
but footloose and fancy free - free spirit she.
She turns clichés on their heads and we see
light at the end of the tunnel as black as the ace of spades.

We taste her bitter with sweet ideas
She won't call a spade, a "spayed".
She makes it plain and clear that word play
is the cat's pyjamas
Yeah. The fur goes against the grain
of our brain.
She makes us hold our horses
(when we think we already know exactly what she means)
and laughs, giving us the bum's rush.
Her rare bits don't come out of a hat but
act like eager beavers
playing fast and loose
...up to their necks in allegories.

Condo-lences

2009-04-19T07:30:00.005-04:00

Where did I leave off? Ah yes. Wednesday. Which saw our realtor, A, showing us four places, identical layouts as in Beacon Lakes but in another area: Beacon Woods. The first was lovely: excellent shape, private, overlooking a par 3 (golf course), no furniture. I'm excited. Condo 2 - nope. Condo 3, possibilities: an older couple leaving Florida. It's the same layout, pool/club house across the road, great shape, furniture negotiable...umm. And last, a little end unit beautifully furnished, top of the line modern but no view. Too small.

I'm thinking hard about condo 1, as we hot tub under the palms that night. we love the pool area here; it's its most attractive feature as its situated next to the canal and lagoon filled with birds (allow me to digress: did I tell you about the night we were soaking when a big heron walked up the bank, not 6 feet from us with a fish sideways in her beak? She expertly flipped the fish around, despite its wriggling, til it was head down then she swallowed...several times. We watched the form of the still wriggling fish slalom down her beautiful serpentine neck. She turned and left us to fish some more, the mallard pair nervously waddling out of her way.) Back to business...

On the other hand, Beacon Woods has its own pool, hot tub, clubhouse plus many paved walkways throughout the community, a community civic centre (tennis!), a golf course (pricey!) and lower condo fees (no flood plain insurance but that's another story). We could get condo 1 for under $64K; we let all that percolate.

Back to the estate condo: I've found the name of a realtor who handled that particular file. I email her explaining our dilemma. She eventually replies she's willing to help but in the meantime, 3 things have happened:

Thursday:, we re-opened discussions with the owner of the condo we thought we couldn't afford in the hopes she'll come down. We arrange to re-view it Saturday.
Friday am: we're on our way to the Hard Rock Casino/Hotel. Our landlord is now willing to rent to us for another year should his condo (which we're in) not sell;
Friday pm: the realtor - after having listened to me whine about the landlord's condo...poor shape, its worse location and its old furniture - negotiated a fine deal with our landlord - everything including the kitchen sink for well under $50K!
Saturday am: we start the dream anew when pricey condo owner budges and actually negotiates! We're $5K apart on coming to a deal.

We drop the dream of getting the estate condo and I email the realtor: thanks but now too late. We give up on the idea of condo1 at Beacon Woods - wrong ambience. But now we've got 2 verbal deals on our hands: one, our somewhat pricey dream condo with no furniture; the other, a wonderful price, furnished but a handyman special and neither one of us is particularly handy. Both condos in Beacon Lakes where we want to be. We have to say "sorry" to someone. Who will it be?

Two dilemmas remain: what to do with the 9 piece rattan living room set we bought as our seller isn't ready yet to vacate the premises, and now we'll need more furniture as our dream place is unfurnished.

It's amazing how the world works to solve your problems...we're playing cards with our neighbours, discussing all of this, when H tells us that the people next door are getting rid of all their mother's furniture (she died about a month ago) and they'd likely gladly sell it to us otherwise it's going to good will. So, today, we'll call on them to confirm that and to check out the furniture. Funny how things have a way of working out. Next is a call to the U-Store-It place to make arrangements for 6-month storage, and a call to Two-Men-&-A-Truck. And you thought we were simply sitting around the pool down here!!!!

Again, I gotta go. E, my librarian friend, is replacing her minister at the nearby Presbyterian church so hubby and I are going to go listen to her preach. That there's a 15 minute hymn-sing before the service is icing on the cake - you know how I love to sing. Plus we've never been to a Presbyterian church before. Of course, ever the staunch Catholic, hubby is attending mass at his church first! It all makes me smile. Hope you're smiling too!

Condo-condo, condo-condo!

2009-04-13T15:38:00.004-04:00

(sung to the tune of Quando, Quando)...the saga continues! I pluck up my courage and call the deceased owner's girlfriend in Massachusetts. Yes, I have the nerve of a tyranasaurus rex! She's very obliging and gives me much info including the actual owner/inheritor's phone number in Argentina AND a lovely description of the interior of the condo. It sounds perfect. But.

There's always a but, isn't there? The phone number when compared to those in the Argentinian white pages simply does not compute. I'd already contacted a translator who would translate my offer to the Spanish-speaking owner but now I'm hesitating. Why waste time and money only to get a wrong number? I've also contacted the lawyer's office again. Sorry, A. is still out at lunch. Out to lunch all right! I'm about ready to give up on this one. All the signs say no go....so why am I so determined!!!!!!??????

On a more positive front, my librarian friend thinks her upstairs neighbour is about ready to sell so we're invited over there for a "maybe viewing" tonight. Also, sadly, another resident just died, so (though this sounds sooo ghoulish) there is also that possibility of a sale. It matters what we buy, not when we buy but we do want to view these places now while we're down here as we can proceed with the sale once we return up north. It's just the viewings that seem hard to peg down around here!

So I'm into my "let go and let God" mode, and not holding my breath. Let's see what happens next!

Easter 2009: Resurrection & Renewal

2009-04-12T17:12:00.006-04:00

This Easter finds us far from family and friends yet we stick to established patterns, one of which is attending Easter mass. I attend with my husband for, though I am not Catholic nor of any particularly strong faith, I find this particular mass rekindles in me that sense of renewal inherent to Spring and the many ways resurrection and renewal can occur.

Of course, the church we went to was new to me; on the surface, rich-looking!) (I wondered what Jesus would think!) but filled with regular joes and josephines faithfully attending to the priest's words. He spoke with a heavy Spanish accent but most of what he said was understandable. I particularly liked his analogy of rolling back the heavy stones in our hearts (as was done at Jesus's tomb), and gave that idea some thought.

I, like my mother, love to sing hymns so I much enjoyed following the lead of the disembodied singer/organist who couldn't be seen (at least from my vantage point) behind the organ but whose voice was lovely and light. I could have been at a service anywhere in the world which is what I guess is nice about catholism: its uniformity. No surprises. Well, ok. One surprise. As the theme is resurrection, we recited the words of baptism (me following in a book) and the priest walked throughout the church, annointing us with a sprinkling mace-like thing from the aisle. As it's a big church, he had to hurry. No one put up an umbrella.

Back home, I stopped to put away some library books (my new job) and came across this book which I read just this afternoon: The Shack by Wm Paul Young. If you believe in God, you know He works in mysterious ways still, I thought it odd that I should stumble across a book on a day when I was consciously thinking of rolling back the hard places in my heart, and this book addresses this very idea and more.

Whether your struggles be with faith, acceptance, forgiveness, hatred, fear, or trust, I suggest you try reading this book. Take from it what you will but trust me: you're sure to take something. And...it might help roll away that stone in your heart.

Condo hunt continues...

2009-04-12T11:30:00.004-04:00

No Easter egg hunting for us! We're still condo-hunting and the plot thickens. I found a friend of the former owner and asked if he knew anything about "the key". It almost sounded like he had it but then he said the person who had it was out of state which flies in the face of what the paralegal said "We're waiting for his friend to drop it off." Friend said it would take up to a couple of weeks to get. I told him we'd already waited a couple of weeks! He also thought the locks had been changed but guessed not when I said the condo board had gained access to do the inspection for termites. Long story, short: still no key, no lookee!

This whole thing is really fishy. My persistence and determination are wavering. Is it worth all this aggravation to get a key, see the place then determine after all this that it's either too expensive, not to our liking or best case, exactly what we want? Thank heavens it's Sunday. I'm forced to cool my jets, rethink our situation. Maybe we should stick with the condo we're in despite it all. Decisions, decisions!

More on the Condo hunt...

2009-04-11T10:33:00.003-04:00

We snoozed...we loozed. The condo search is intensifying as we only have a few weeks left to actually look. We made an offer on the expensive condo and were turned down. The owner would not negotiate at all. The next on our list, sold the day I was to call the owner. The bug house is still available but in the meantime we found an unadvertised condo.

It's on the 2nd floor, on the water, close to the clubhouse and all its amenities and has the layout we prefer. But it's an estate sale. The owner lives in Argentina! We're dealing with staff in a lawyer's office who aren't exactly helpful. First, they were surprised we knew of the sale. Wanted to know how we knew about it. Then they asked what we were offering (without us even having seen the interior!) When I asked for a key to view it or to have a showing, we were delayed 2 weeks and are still in limbo.The reason? The deceased owner's "friend" hasn't delivered the key! Have they never heard of a courier? Heavens, we'd even drive over to pick up the key. Just let us look at the darn thing then we'll negotiate! The condo board here has the key but can use it only in emergencies so this is not an emergency.

Ever resourceful, I've thought of a couple of things:

offer to pick up the key or pay for the courier (pending Tuesday after Easter)
call the former owner's friend (number was given to me by a friend - yes, people are helpful here)
call the current owner (yes, managed to find 12 phone numbers for someone of that name in Argentina but we would have to hire a Spanish translator as she doesn't speak English)
just give up on it, which is what I'm beginning to think the lawyer's office wants!

So, time will tell. We could still make an offer on the place we're currently in but...you don't get many chances to have what you really want so we're making the supreme effort. Stay tuned for our continuing challenge....

Dilemmas

2009-03-31T09:40:00.004-04:00

Today is our 39th wedding anniversary. We'll be entertaining some friends for dinner. The menu? Alphabetically: asparagus, coleslaw, cornbread, garlic/rosemary potato fingers, ribs and cheap red wine. Dessert? Who knows what M is bringing but it's bound to be good!

Last night we played cards with 2 couples: one in their 80's, the others in their 90's. Amazingly sharp people. Now I have new role models! Both couples have been married longer than I've been alive. It gives one pause. Also puts into perspective our 39 years together, and gives me hope we'll have 39 more! After all, I'd only be 96 then! It's wonderful to see how these couples treat each other...he looking over her hand of cards, could see a play which she couldn't. He gently encouraged her "You can do better than that....keep looking" while not giving anything away. She persisted, then saw the play. They shared a special glance, and a smile.

*************

Hubby's just waking up. I'd better slip on my swimsuit for the inpool exercise class (which I've been meaning to join, like forever, but never got there until today!). So...gotta run! But...

in honour of our anniversary, give that special man or woman in your life a nice firm hug, a long soft kiss and a deep meaningful gaze. These moments matter. They really do.

Decorating with Plates

2009-03-31T09:33:00.005-04:00

I have a penchant for filling walls with things, you name it: paintings, wall hangings, plates, musical instruments, birdhouses, masks. When I get home, I'll post some pix of what I throw up there in an effort to reveal the inner me whilst simply aesthetically pleasing myself (and, I hope, others) immeasurably.

The nice thing is: I'm not alone. This blogger "The English Muse" does it too. And this website gives some excellent ideas too. What are YOU waiting for?

2009-03-29T11:09:00.004-04:00

I took these question from "Someday I'll get there" whose blog title seems to describe my life but who also swiped these 20 questions from Dawn's blog. Confession: I changed one question to one of my own. Find it if you care to.

When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a ballerina. Then that changed to psychiatrist. So what did I end up being? A bureaucrat in the federal government which required some adept moves and skillful psychological assessments of the upper, middle and lower echelons. So, in a funny, way I guess I got what I wanted. BTW, I still dance!
What have you done in the past week to help someone else? I helped the librarian put away books. This is not as simple as you would think as the shelves are limited, more books are being added to the tightly packed shelves, so when you add one book you have to shift about 15 shelves' worth!
Who is the best-dressed person you know? My oldest and youngest sisters are the best dressed people I know. Altho I have a sister-in-law whose not too shabby either since she's retired her hobby farm shift!
What is on your nightstand? A stack of books to be given to the librarian, alarm clock, lamp, some weird but wonderful home-made Floridian pain salve that works on sore arms, Kleenex and a little flashlight.
If you were a cat, what kind of a cat would you be? I would try to emulate my adorable old (now deceased) cat, Dolly, who gave us so many years of laughter, pleasure and joy.
If you lived in a house surrounded by acres of trees, what particular type of tree would you want flourishing on your land? Now that's a hard question but right now I love the bottle bush trees down here and in Australia. The red blossoms decorate the ground in a wonderful way whilst the red "bottles" of blossoms add such cheery touches of colour to the street. I could go on and go about more trees so I'll stop now. Ok. I'd also have a few Norfolk pines.
What do you find to be very overrated? Television - so much of it is dreck. It's like sifting a sewer for gems. Second would be sex. It's like the outside world sends the message we are all fixated with it (likely we all are else we wouldn't reproduce) but the "sexiness" factor in advertising pushes a falseness whereas I think we should remember the wonderful intimacy good sex provides translates to love not profits.
How many email addresses do you have? More than I care to admit. But let's see. One for family & friends. Another for business junk. Another for fitness, physical well being. Another for my blog. Does Twitter count? I think that's it.
Have you ever felt replaced? Not only felt it but I was!
Would you rather watch football, baseball, or hockey? What a stupid question! None of the above.
What is the wallpaper on your phone? Are you kidding me? I'm an old lady...my cell is basic and I barely understand it enough to answer the damn thing let alone add wallpaper or text - jeez!
Name a lyric from the song you're listening to. "...drown in love's debris....I'll never learn to be just me first, by myself..." Carly Simon
Do you use a feed reader? Yup. iGoogle. Real Age.
What chocolate do you always leave in the box? The hard chewy ones but I'll eat even those when I'm in a sugar high.
Do words hurt you? Yes, on occasion but I always try to remember that it is I who chooses what to feel and oftimes the speaker did not mean it the way I took it.
Are you a talker or a listener? I'm both. Sometimes an excellent listener. Sometimes a non-stop talker. I try to be aware so that it's balanced as I hate being stuck in only one of those modes, myself, or with others.
Have you ever walked on the beach at night? Yes, in Daytona.
Who is your favorite professional athlete? Tiger Woods: he's such a wonderful role model for children, men and women. He's opened up golf in so many new ways. His self-discipline appears extraordinary. I know he's just a man, but his pedestal can't help but keep growing ever upwards.
Which TV show have you seen pretty much every episode of? Hmm. CSI.
Who presents the most challenges to you in life? Sometimes it's my husband, for with him, I must have patience. Sometimes, it's my daughter, for with her, I must learn to listen, not judge. Sometimes, it's with certain in-laws, as with them, I must simply accept. Sometimes, it's friends as I struggle to understand them. Mostly I am challenged by myself as my higher self expects so much while my baser self tries to wriggle away from creativity, self-expression, honesty, commitment, and self-discipline. It's always a struggle. But I do -- really I do -- try.

35th Annual Tarpon Springs Fine Art Festival

2009-03-28T23:32:00.003-04:00

Today a dear friend advised me of an Arts Festival being held over the weekend in Tarpon Springs at Craig's Park on the Bayou. Doesn't that sound fantastic? Well, I thought so too so hubby & I careened on down there, finding a parking spot for $5, thanks the local Boy Scout Troop!

To quote the Chamber of Commerce: "This two-day festival has become one of Florida's premier juried art festivals and will feature over 240 artists from across the nation...one thing that makes this show so great is that there is something for everyone. Since this is a juried Festival, it is all fine art. Unlike many shows, much of our art, creations and jewelry are affordably priced. The venue couldn't be prettier, with the Festival wrapping around Spring Bayou and Craig Park. This is also manatee season in Tarpon Springs. Besides the crème de la crème of art, the Festival will ply you with a huge variety of food (yes, there will be kettle corn! and other strange and wondrous stuff you won't find in Canada), drinks and fabulous entertainment." www.tarponspringschamber.com

So whaddja buy, you wanna know? Well, a place like that is irrisistible to someone as weak-willed as me. But given our 39th wedding anniversary is rising over the horizon, it behooved me to plead for a few nice things: a lovely Swarofsky crystel bracelet (which I might never take off), 2 ugly but colourful fish to hang on the hot tub wall, a gift for a friend (this has to remain mysterious) AND a piece of cedar driftwood with 3 very bright red fish attached for the lanai I'll soon be renting or owning (or maybe not).

It was a very windy day which saw vendors hanging onto their tents, some in terror. I saw a very expensive work of glass in pieces at one vendor's tent. It was touch and go but everyone persisted, the gawkers showed up en masse, the music was rousing and the food and beer excellent. I'm so glad hubby was with me as there's no telling what else I would have come home with! I'll try to post pix soon.

We hurried home as the community was having a poolside picnic: free beer (who could resist?), hot dogs, hamburgers and salads! It was lovely and we socialized a lot with the many new friends we've made. The wind was still making his presence known by tossing chairs into the pool. We hope the M's of whom we're quite fond, will return again next year. It was all a little bittersweet as the coming weeks will see the snowbirds take to road and air to return to cooler climes.

Here's my ode to the Tarpon Springs Art Festival, that I may have the chance to revisit it!

White tents, white caps, all wind tossed
Tropic suggestions all painted, high gloss
Jewels, and treasures, and women agape
Men all quite bored; they dawdle, they wait
Imagination abounds, creativity too
How can so many things come in so many hues?
My eyes are like bees flitting flower to flower
How can colour, shape, glitter hold so much power
to mesmerize, tantalize, tranquilize, freeze?
Til credit cards shimmer like sin in the breeze.
And the Bayou is there to assuage your sore feet
It's waters a balm, its vistas so sweet
Come again to Craig Park and all its fine arts
Next year in the spring, when March departs.

Florida Snippets

2009-03-28T00:04:00.003-04:00

Gators snoozing by the banks of golf ponds, unknowingly protecting the many balls golfers would love to retrieve....

A little squirrel runs up a tree by the 2nd green, out on a limb already occupied by a hawk. She stops, looks up at him. He looks at her. They're an inch apart. I'm sure there's about to be carnage. Off the limb she scampers and he lifts off. Safe for another day.

I walk by someone's lanai to retrieve my husband's golf ball and notice the entire bottom portion of her screen door is punctuated with many, many golf-ball-sized impressions. I vow not to buy a house on a golf course!

A 93 year old lady golfer in front of us makes a lovely shot then confides, as she clambers onto her cart, it's all due to her new driver which she just bought yesterday. Now that's optimism! I hope to be just like her!

The couple we play with are brother and sister, obviously enjoying each other's company. Nice to see. They're pretty good players too!

You'd think it was fall the way dead leaves accumulate by our door. I sweep them up every day, and it reminds me of home.

Geckos peek at you from everywhere: between the A/C slats, between the privacy fence slats, from under leaves as you walk down the pathway, from the lanai screen as they scuttle about for bugs. I just love these little guys! Boy, are they fast!

At night, in the hot tub, we watch toads, little ones, big ones, hop about in search of their evening meal on the cement floor near the pool. Seated in the hot tub, we observe them at eye level. So far, none has joined us (thank Heaven).

Two male mallards run up from the lake and walk deliberately to the swimming pool then stand stock still as they realize we're watching them from the hot tub. In a flurry of wings, they take off instead of jumping in the pool.

A black crow chases a hawk which has snagged in its claws something (a mouse?) hidden in a bunch of Spanish moss. It flies low in a ditch and ditches its hungry follower.

The sun seems to pool and puddle on the horizon when it finally sinks into the Gulf of Mexico. But this is my favourite part: everyone on the beach applauds.

We can't get over how nice and friendly people are to us. It's truly joyful to be here. In a parking lot, I sneeze repeatedly; a young man cruising by in his big old truck says "God bless you!"

We neet a couple whom we've admired on the dance-floor. Turns out, although they've lived most of their lives in the States, both have Canadian roots (French Canadian and Maritimer) - they can't hide their joie de vivre! Somehow I just knew it!

Our upstairs neighbour, knowing we love golf, brings us discount golf coupons snipped out of the paper. We pass on the favour and share our 4-some cheapie coupon with an astonished vacationing German couple.

Gracie and Burt introduce us to the elements of the American tango.

Vi checks in on us periodically to provide information and keep us abreast of "happenings"...wine tastings, concerts, casino trips, condos for sale, parties, and so on. She is truly a walking encyclopedia on our community (who walks twice daily, the first walk at 6:30am)!

The Lady Lakers welcome me for an interesting and challenging 9 holes at the Forest Hills golf course while the guys take hubby to Gulf Harbours for a round. A particularly watery hole gives us trouble and the 3-some ahead leave us with a hole open. The marshall chastises us but our intrepid Lorraine laughs and simply tells him to "stuff it!" Such chutzpa!

Sometimes, resourceful black crows thoroughly investigate your golfcart for food as soon as they see you on the green. They hop from the front window to the steering wheel to the seat, into the open glove box, onto the back basket then onto your clubs then fly to the next cart and repeat.

For shopaholics only

2009-03-24T11:51:00.003-04:00

I’m not a big flaunter of people, places or things (well, OK, I guess that’s a great big lie) but: if you’re in Florida, Beall’s is THE place to shop. I love Beall’s (pronounced Bell’s). I don’t know who their ladies’ wear buyer is but this much is true: s/he is totally plugged into my style and preferences. Some people get hooked on crack – well! Beall’s is my crack. I can’t walk in without seeing something that is a must-have. If you’re interested in colours (my favourite: florals), style, variety and good prices, try shopping at Beall’s online. They also have Beall’s Outlet shoppes which are every bit as addictive! Give ‘em a go - you don't need to be in Florida to dress like a Floridian. That’s not to say that Macy’s, Dillard’s, JC Penney’s, Kohls, Bonworth’s, Sears, etc, aren’t up to par. They’re all lovely stores with lovely things. It’s just that Beall’s is my favourite.

Now if you want cheap, you should check out Ross’s. They have amazing prices but like our Winners in Canada, you have to scrounge thru the racks a bit. In all honesty, the best bargains to be had here are in the ubiquitous thrift and consignment shops. Things are dirt cheap and even then are often discounted again 50%! Want an entire wardrobe? C’mon down to the Sally Ann or the Gulf Hospice or the Sheriff's Ranches for Youth. You’ll be supporting the needy whilst indulging yourself. This is a particular life-saver for those of us whose shapes are changing (due to diet or pregnancy or other)...donate your too-big or too-little stuff and feel free to stock up on your latest size and style!

Flea markets in Florida are de rigueur stops. They carry every little thing your heart desires and then some but you have to commit to a good long stroll, constant eye rolling and neck turning. Definitely a good workout! My latest fix is the variety of magnetic bracelets, of every colour and hue. They’re gorgeous, go with every outfit AND are reputed to help with arthritis and rheumatism. I can’t vouch for that but at $1/bracelet, you can’t beat this little fashion accessory. While we’re on the subject of jewelry, you gotta try what I can the “FMB” line. Between you and me, that’s Flea Market Bling. The rings shine like no diamond I’ve ever seen, and are very moderately priced. I’ve invested in 2 lovely rings both with crystals of amazing clarity and sparkle. So far my finger has not fallen off nor turned green. Now the watch department - that’s another story. Yes, a sad one. These sellers too have watches of every colour and style, lovely stuff. But be forewarned. While they all come with a new battery, they can have problems. I found an incredible deep blue watch that I adore. Its face had a latched cover with cloisonné flowers on it but when the time change happened, it became apparent the watch hands couldn’t be moved past noon – something was wrong. I took it back to the vendor who happily replaced the mechanism on the spot! Thank you, Anna! I also found some different abstract art to adorn our bare rented walls, and will take them home when we leave. Check out our local flea market.

Now in the food department, I’m talking chains here, you can’t beat Applebee’s Restaurants. They are competitively priced – how does a shared appetizer and 2 entrées for $20 sound? What I especially like is this:
· You’re sure to meet the manager – always a good thing
· You’re sure to have a weight watcher choice
· You’re sure to have a dessert portion that, if you’re a dieter, still makes you feel like you stuck to your diet (they’re called “shooters” and they’re baby-sized desserts best shared with your best bud)
· You’re sure to have a pretty good time.

Still in the restaurant category, IHOP is also on my list. IHOP stands for International House of Pancakes. Who can resist a restaurant who, on Shrove Tuesday, aka Pancake Tuesday, opens up their doors and gives FREE pancakes albeit encouraging you to make a charitable donation? I love IHOP. They also have WiFi and great servers.

In my opinion, Cracker Barrel makes the best tea biscuits in all of Florida, but in all honesty, their layout makes for very noisy dining. So, yes, if you want a good homecooked style meal along with the cacophony of multiple very large families, go to Cracker Barrel. They do have lovely rocking chairs and it’s taking all of my shopping willpower to resist having one of their big blue ones sent up home!

There are so many chains and other privately-owned restaurants that are very deserving of mention, but the above are some of my favs for the common folk with limited incomes. You can’t go wrong. But I warn you: if you like vinegar with your French fries – forget it! No vinegar for you! We haven’t yet found a restaurant that provides vinegar. The occasional one will offer malt vinegar, yech! What I find hard to understand is an industry that daily meets the needs of millions of Canadians, most of whom ask for vinegar, they don’t get this subtle yet likely minute-by-minute reminder. Service industry my eye! Next time, maybe I’ll discuss grocery stores.

The Hunt is on

2009-03-21T11:52:00.003-04:00

Dilemmas, dilemmas! We've narrowed our choices down to four, all in the condo community we like, and all on the 2nd floor except the last one:

a lovely reno'd condo painted colours we love, beautiful view, new flooring, kitchen stuff, etc but not furnished. Plus it's more expensive than we'd planned. Not only is it pricey but we'd have to spring for furniture. Always nice to have your own stuff but another cost and chore. The seller's not in a hurry, therefore it's probably not that negotiable.
a partially reno'd condo, very clean, very presentable. No water view but it would be as easy move-in. Furniture is an option. It's moderately priced and the seller is eager so it might be had for a good price.
a dump. No view. The carpet is littered with "palmetto bugs" or what I'd plainly say are giant dead cucharachas (cockroaches) plus a dead bat in the lanai. There's no furniture (Thank God) but we'd have to sink about $20K into it (tile, new bathrooms, etc). The man who moved out left his signature on the rim of the toilet and his beer in the fridge. Disgusting but it could probably be had for a song. The only thing to like are the drapes. No idea about the seller's motivation.
our current abode. It too could be had for a decent price with little reno needed (paint, some tile in the bathrooms) but it's on the ground floor and close to the road so it's noisy. Agent says the seller is motivated and it could be had for a cheap price. It's been "home" for the past 3 months so we're getting used to it but final word is no: not on the ground floor.

So, what to do? I'm thinking we'll try to get a good price on the nicest place and it that doesn't work, then try to get #2 and it that doesn't work, bite the bullet and try for the dump. At least we could tailor it to suit our taste from the getgo.

Hubby says "Wait one more year." And he's probably right. But. It is so very tempting!

Seduced!

2009-03-01T08:16:00.004-05:00

Being an inveterate ad-reader, always on the lookout for a place next year in Florida, I was totally gobsmacked by one ad that read something along these lines:

2b/2b in new luxury bldg; 3 balconies overlooking the gulf,

professionally decorated; pool, spa, fitness; dock access.

$1100/m or $208K (cost price) for sale.

Always an optimist, I call and make an appointment with Dolly DeCoy (not her real name) to view this miracle. Trust me: we've seen such a variety of good and bad that our expectations are well-contained.

The building is as promised: brand, spanking new, painted floridian colours coral and turquoise (I know; sounds garish but in the Florida sun, it's quite attractive), and we note from the apartment listing, only minimally occupied. At the 2-story atrium-style entry, while we wait for Dolly to buzz us in, we admire an imposing bronze sculpture of a nymph riding two dolphins amidst a spray of water.

Dolly welcomes us; she's an older woman, blonde, very well-groomed with a very intense manner. Vivacious. Verbal diarhhea. The apartment is lovely, has a welcoming entrance, large open kitchen with a bar overlooking the dining room combo living room. One bedroom is off the living room and it is large with its own balcony and large bath including a large whirlpool tub. It's beautifully decorated. The 2nd bedroom is as large as the first; it too is impressive with a very large bath and its own balcony and spectacular view. The large screen TV dominated the living room. Dolly offers us freshly squeezed grapefruit juice in balloon wine glasses, which we sip as we wander the rooms, gape over the views from the balconies and are seduced by the rental price, the wonderfully tasteful yet upscale decor and Dolly's sparkling personality. She's selling her place at cost price altho the same one on any other floor will cost you an additional $100,000, she says.

But that's not all. She then takes us up one floor to show her "friend's" empty apartment so we "can appreciate the size." Next comes the tour of the fitness room where there is the latest equipment including TVs over the treadmills and ellipticals, and there's a sauna in both the men's and women's washrooms. She says the building is so new, she's the only one to have used it to her knowledge. We ooh and ahh then obediently follow Dolly down the hall (all the while admiring the creamy buttercup paint and crown mouldings) to the business centre, a room with a nice-sized conference room, fax, library, washroom/kitchen plus a view. We ooh and ahh and again follow Dolly into the office.

The office? Well, yes, we are trying to sell these apartments and I'd like to show you a 3 bedroom, she says, introducing us to one of the office staff who hands us a package. Our internal alarm bells are firing - have we inadvertently walked into a darn old timeshare presentation again? Will we never learn? The two ladies, Dolly and the office staffer, lead us to the 3 bedroom. It too is perfectly lovely with an even better series of view than the others as it directly faces the gulf and the harbour. The furniture and decor are beautiful. All of us can easily envisage ourselves living there. I note the most expensive of the apartments is in the $750K range!

But wait, there's more. Let me show you the pool, the hot tub, the bar-b-que's (or as she describes it: poolside cabanas with separate grills). Then the multi-purpose club room - is it possible to be more ga-ga than we already are? - with its soaring ceiling, imposing columns, baby grand player piano, media centre, bar, serving kitchen, incredible couches, chairs and heavy oak tables and plush chairs where we could easily envisage ourselves playing cards. The club room is gi-normous and leads out to a large terrace overlooking a conservation area (Dolly: I watch a cute little raccoon make his rounds every morning! So much fun, idn't it? I notice Dolly replaces her s's for d's in certain words.)

Each floor has a central gathering area beautifully furnished where residents can simply sit and chat or read the newspaper, and overlook the atrium entrance. There's lots of places where you can get away from each other, Dolly says, noting her husband likes to take off when she's vacuuming. (Funny, I can't imaging Dolly vacuuming.) She regales us with her persuasive personality, and stories from what is obviously an interesting, rich and diverse lifestyle. As I listen, my little brain is scuttling about trying to figure out at what point we can cut to the chase and either settle the matter of renting or just get the Hell out. I've had enough; we've been here 2 hours already and she's not asking the typical landlady-type questions. I find my opening; state our interest and we manage to exit with Dolly promising to call us on Sunday, as she has an interested party wanting to rent it over the summer and we could possibly have it next fall.

We discuss what we've seen. All of us are bowled over and cannot believe that anyone would rent a place like that for $11oo/month! My opinion is it's a come-on, a means for the owner to find new buyers although I'd stated from our very first contact that not only had I no interest in buying, I had not the means. My husband bluntly says he doesn't like it. We'd be out of our social element there - too many rich people. Our friends agree. Might be hard to keep up with the Joneses there, they say. But who says you have to keep up with the Joneses? I can easily envisage us in that place, no matter the social strata around us. But I can't calm those alarm bells that are shouting "Too good to be true! Too good to be true!" And you know what that means.

Stay tuned for the next phase of this particular adventure.

Conflicted

2009-02-15T11:24:00.003-05:00

On the political spectrum, I admit I'm a little left leaning with the odd inclination to the right, and am still an innocent in the world despite what I know about the capacity of humans to destroy other humans. People I know state their concern for Canada and the influx of certain immigrants and their impact on our society. Some people I know are very anti-Muslim. Some make a distinction and say they're anti-Islam. Some state their concern that the Christian way of life is much threatened.

I believe in "live and let live." In Canada, we live in a multi-cultural society which I like and am proud of. Thanks to our open doors, I've come to know so many more people than plain old white English-speaking people like myself. I know one Muslim and was very impressed by his openness, behaviour and beliefs. He lives his own life his own way and does not impose his beliefs on me or others yet openly answers any questions I may have. I know a few Jewish people, and can say the same for them too. I know some Catholics, Protestants, aetheists, Bahai's, Lutherans, and more, and can say the same for them too. I know French, English, Polish, Italian, American, British, Cuban, Irish, Ukranian, Australian, Indian, Persian and people from more other countries...they too are the same. The majority of people I know try to live their lives and live within their own religions if they have one. There are always those who try to impose their beliefs on others but I find them everywhere and in every group. So long as they do it non-violently, that's ok by me.

It's rational to feel threatened given what happened at the twin towers and the many other horrible killing and fearful events since. I try to understand the things coming at me in the world that shake up my utopian view.

For example, Pat Condell, a comedian, is known for his rants, not necessarily funny either. I've listened to two of his rants, trying to keep an open mind. He referred in one of his rants to a short film made in 2008 called "Fitna" by Geert Wilders a Dutch MP, which is causing all kinds of controversy in his homeland, and throughout the world. Is the video hate literature or a word of warning? It seemed easy enough to view yet the pages where you view it often get closed down so forces are definitely out there that do not want it seen.

The other side of the story is this rebuttal video which point by point negates the stance taken in the Fitna video. If you've come this far in reading, I trust you'll view both videos. I also found this article entitled Wilders Shore Of Free Speech Endangered by Kenan Malik in the Australian that discusses this but from the perspective of free speech.

Islamophobia. Anti-semitism. Racism. Sexism. Ageism. Homophobia. Secularism. There's an "ism" or "phobia" out there for everyone. And they are very heated, hot topics. Where do you stand?

I wonder, had we the internet back in the 1930's, how the world would have responded to the uprising of Nazism? Would our ability to communicate so instantaneously ultimately in some miraculous way have staved off the Holocaust and saved lives? Or would we be sitting much where we are today? Endlessly discussing, writing, opining, and finger pointing but still doing nothing? What is to be done?

I pray one day we'll all be more enlightened. I pray we'll find a way to help advance those whose beliefs are antiquated, unjust, unfair and harmful to others. Yes, I'm doing it. I'm doing what causes the conflicts in the first place. I'm saying my way is better. The modern way is better. I'm falling into the same old trap everyone does (I don't want to live your way, I want to live MY way!) which is why I despair for the dear old human race.

Hating to close this on a down note, I do state I am optimistic about humanity's future and our capacity to grow and change for the better, for we have proven it over time. And every new person I meet, no matter where they're from, no matter their culture, reinforces the idea we all just want to live peaceably. If this little blog has in any way made you reflect and reconsider your own stance on "isms" and "phobias", then I feel it's been worthwhile. Peace.

PS - it's highly likely some of the above links will change in time. If so, feel free to look further on your own.

Rent or Buy?

2009-02-08T10:48:00.004-05:00

Hubby and I have been busy checking out online real estate listings, calling realtors and owners and day by day growing more informed about the market here in the Tampa area. While it's definitely a buyer's market now, one has to weigh the costs of ownership. For example, one can buy:

a 2bed/2bath condo for less than $50K but with annual carrying costs of approx. $5K or more
a 2b/2b double-wide mobile for $50K or much less but again, annual carrying costs that range from $3,600 to $5K. There are parks with owner share costs which range widely (e.g., $20K to $55K then the mobile cost on top of that). There are parks where you do not own the land but lease it monthly but you can find a mobile for around $10K.
a 2b/2b house, again similar but slightly higher carrying costs per year and more maintenance headaches.
If you're an RV'er, you've already invested in a big mobile unit, you have cheap accommodations during your trip to/from and you typically have lower lot rental fees. But you're a little more confined spacewise, depending on your RV.

The benefits? You have invested in an area you like, where you quickly make friends and have a social network. You have a home away from home. You can buy if furnished or not, and rent it out to friends or strangers and recoup some of your annual costs. You can eventually sell it, and lose or make money depending on the market.

Or you can rent. The rents range from $800 to $1200/month typically for a 2b/2b. You may have to clean it up (not all landlords have the same sanitation standards) and even buy items not included in the inventory of furnishings. If you find a place you like, you may get lucky enough to find an owner interested in renting to you year after year so again, you've got that home away from home feeling and some landlords allow you to store items there for use next year. So your costs again are in the $3200 to $4800 range assuming you stay 4 months (not counting all the other costs of living in the sunny south). Many landlords prefer 6 months but the accepted minimum is 3 months. Again, you have freedom to move on to live in and experience other areas.

One factor affecting our decision too is the availability of reasonably priced golf for that is one of our main activities here. Word of mouth has it the further south you go, the more pricey the golf. We're in an area of modestly priced golf, hence our wanting to stay here and return next year. But Florida and other states have so much to offer, it's hard not to want to wander more broadly. The real trick is to find and book a place for next year so we don't have any nasty surprises by renting sight unseen.

We're tempted both ways but since we, as a couple, are newly retired, we plan on renting for now. We're still viewing a few places just in case that wonderful "deal" should present itself!

New Goals

2009-02-07T09:30:00.004-05:00

I should warn you that what's about to follow is an info-mercial. I came across it par hazard as they say in French, but I love it! If you're into self-improvement like I am, you might find it interesting too. I whole-heartedly endorse this website.

Ok, ok, I'll get to the point: it's Realage.com. On it you can complete a questionnaire that will reveal your true age from a health/habits/diet/ relationships and fitness perspective. Also, once you have your results, it makes suggestions as to how and where to improve, and gives you a plan. It also offers a nutrition assessment to determine how well you are eating. If you've read enough, go there and try it for yourself. If you're curious as to how I made out, read on.

I just turned 57. According to my answers and my current state of being, my "real age" is 48.6. Now, I didn't have all the answers to all the questions asked. For example, my overall "health" was affected by my not knowing my cholesterol levels. I know I'm in the healthy category but my doc's never given me the actual numbers. I intend on getting them as it's likely that'll knock off a couple more years of "age" and I should be more aware.

In the Habits category, I could improve 2 areas. One is flossing. I admit to being a part time flosser primarily after eating corn and steak so I now resolve to floss at least once per day. Another, more expensive improvement is the car we drive as it's a small car. Staying alive longer dictates we should have a slightly large car in a silver colour as statistics indicate greater surviveability (also depending on the type of car you buy). So that improvement will have to wait until we consider buying another car!

In the relationships category, it tells me I should get a dog. Implication being, good to love another little being plus the exercise involved. I wasn't totally honest in my answer as I do regularly love and walk a dog but just not here in Florida. It further strengthens my resolve, however, to get myself to the pound to do some volunteer dogwalking while we're here in Florida! Also I should reach out more. I'm not too sure about this one as my life is full of family and friends and sometimes I'm not sure if I can fit more people in! But it does remind me to be mindful of stress and to join in more group activities. We've just joined the Y to do our regular weightlifting/cardio workouts but will add yoga and ballroom dancing (we're so forgetful we've even forgotten how to do a basic cha cha!). So that should pound that point down in a hurry!

Now "diet" is where I really fell down. Not enough vitamins (e.g., C, D, potassium, folate, omega-3, calcium), and more veggies, grains and less red meat. This is what I love about this tool: it's a wonderful reminder of what I "should" be doing, and hardens my resolve to improve while at the same time telling me what I'm doing well. Kind of like a nice teacher.

Fitness was an eye-opener as I believe I'm a pretty fit individual. Well! It told me plain and simply to lose some more weight given my BMI. Here's how to calculate your's: http://www.realage.com/WorkOutCenter/bmi.aspx Now, instead of stepping on the scales, I'm going to measure my waist instead (my waistband button just popped - talk about your indicators!). Also, as I have a low resting heart rate that is usually a good thing but it could also be bad. As mine's always low, & my doc isn't worried, I'm taking that as a good indication of my fitness. One down. It also tells me to vary my workouts and work on fitness and tone (hence the yoga signup).

In the website's Shape Up/Slim Down menu, it offers fitness & workout videos, a 20 minute workout plus yoga stretches, also a menu planner and WAIST loss tracker. I love this!

Enough of the info-mercial. I really do encourage you to check it out. Our only wealth is our health. Now that hubby & I are retired, our focus is on enjoying life to the fullest and the way to do that, I believe, is to have the mind and body able to do it because no one is giving us more time on the world clock than God and/or Fate and what we ourselves can control. I hope your results show you you're younger than you think too! And if you're not, how you can take steps to a new you.

Florida - Canada Differences

2009-02-05T06:19:00.003-05:00

As I've been to Florida many times in the past, I may not have the freshest eye to spot how it differs from my home province. Also part of the reason we're here is to enjoy this different environment, particularly reason no. 1: the warmer weather. But weather aside, there are other things we note.

For example, U-turns. Here the traffic can be easily 3 lanes wide with access points to make u-turns or cross from one side to the other. Of course, there are lights as well but the u-turn is de rigueur, and one gets pretty good as pulling a fast one! Traffic is heavy and the lights are long. It's hard to differentiate one area or town from another: you're in NPR then Port Richey, then Hudson and so on. They blend one into another.

Recycling. Not as evident an effort as in Canada. I've found this town, New Port Richey (NPR) does have a "blue bag" effort where one must buy the bags and ensure their local area has bought into the effort to ensure pickup. But it doesn't appear widely publicized and I've made a mental note to ask the condo president if they are on the pickup route as I have no problem with buying the blue bags. Being a well-trained Ontarian, it now goes against the grain to throw a can or wine bottle in the trash.

Water. In both condo units, there's been water-saver toilets but no water-saver showers. The shower streams down on you like Niagara Falls. While I admit I like this seeming abundance (particularly after my own home water saver shower), it does make me uncomfortable to think of the waste. Apparently NPR has also addressed this and I quote: "Indoor and outdoor water conservation kits will continue to be provided free of charge upon request from the Public Utilities Department." Also "The Code also prohibits installation of shower heads that are capable of exceeding 2.5 gallons per minute."

Right now there are severe drought restrictions re lawn watering but I haven't found it easy to find what they offer in support of the homeowner's effort to reduce water usage. Their website does offer a "free conservation retrofit kit" if you call the Billing and Collection service so I'll follow up on that.

The People:
Black & White. I haven't seen many black people in the general populace although 2 of the ladies we dealt with for our cable service are African-American. One lady, Margaret, seemed astonished when we said hello to her later in the day after she'd provided service to us in the morning. "You remembered me!" she exclaimed. A little research shows African-americans form only 1% of the NPR population.

Hispanic or Latino - while there are abundant bilingual offerings, particularly when calling for service, this group forms only 5% of the NPR population.

Elders - I'd expected to see more "old folks" but, not counting the snowbirds, the population in this town is reasonably spread out:

19.1% under the age of 18,
7.4% from 18 to 24,
24.5% from 25 to 44,
20.7% from 45 to 64, and
28.3% who were 65 years of age or older.

Friendliness: our experience in this aspect of life has been great. Everyone, no matter their role, has been very friendly and helpful and informative.

Golf - there's a plethora of golf courses around this town. I'd estimate about 80 within easy driving distance. What I've noted that I don't like is the occasional golf course has a resident fee and a non-resident fee. In other words, they blatantly gouge the visitor and reward the locals. Our realtor says there's a way around that: simply get a Florida resident ID. We haven't gone to that length yet so we simply boycott those courses and patronize those who operate more democratically. Speaking of golf, I gotta go. Tee-off at 8:45!

Happily ensconced

2009-02-02T23:52:00.005-05:00

We're all moved in to our new digs. Have spent 12 days with brother and his wife, swimming, hottubbing, golfing, sightseeing. Brother anticipated warmer weather so was a little disappointed, I think, with the weather which has been temperate and even cool early day/late evening. He wanted full sun, and the weather gods only gave him that periodically during their stay. I reminded him that it is winter after all. Today they headed north to visit friends and then return home so our little home here will be quieter.

So now we settle into our own routine pending the arrival of the next set of guests. Thus a day of laundry and a little more re-arranging of the furniture. The owner of our unit declined (via his silence) our offer of the new-t0-us cheap furniture in lieu of the old stuff. Now, the microwave has died. Current dilemma: just buy a cheap one, call the realtor in case it's her's, call the landlord in case it's his. I guess I'll try option 2 then depending on her answer, option 3 and then option 1 as a last resort. The place didn't have an iron so we snagged one at the local thrift shops for $2 - such bargoons to be had in thrift shops! And there are a plethora of thrift shops down here - seems every block has one.

We've yet to check out the cinemas despite our agreement to have a go-to-the movie night on a regular basis. There's a cinema up the road offering movies for $2 and down the road for $6.75 so the price is right, and there are so many good movies we want to see.

Our search for key lime pie took us to unknown territory. We knew the Plaza Cafe had homemade key lime pie but it wasn't open when the urge was upon us. We phoned Denny's - no go. We visited Cracker Barrel - yes, they had a wonderful bread pudding but no KL pie. What to do? Google it. Yes, dear old Google told us the local Hooters carried KL pie so off to Hooters we go and it hit the spot. Plus the Hooters is right on the waterfront but that night there was a very cool breeze ablowin' and the girls in their little orange short shorts were freezing, poor things. But the coffee too was good so we all went home happy.

So far golf-wise, we've played Quail Ridge, Magnolia Valley (2), Beacon Woods (2), the Silver Dollar, Fairway Village (exec par 3) and Tarpon Springs. I loved Tarpon Springs for several reasons: there were at least 6 osprey families minding their nests and us as we scampered around the course. Not to be outdone, a huge owl was guarding his nest high in a tree and hooting at us when we got too close. The bird life was plentiful and interesting. Also, the pro shop lady gave us a steal of a deal, only charging us the resident rate (more on that later). Third, the course itself was interesting, in good shape if a little on the tight side but we got to play in our jeans as we've stopped in just on the spur of the moment.

Resident rates are what the locals pay for golf, like $22. Non-resident rates are of course much higher and one feels the pinch, like $40. It's like paying a bribe just because you're a tourist, and is a definite turn-off. Many courses don't differentiate so they're the ones we patronize. My game's been all over the map from good to not so good. But, like the old saying goes: a bad day on the golf course is better than a good day at the office. And I agree.

We haven't done much shopping but did hit a local mall where it was evident that either the stores are going downhill or their buyers are out to lunch. The selection was not attractive. I could name names but don't want to be sued. On the other hand, good old Bealls and their relatives the Bealls Outlets never seem to let us down and the bargain and sales to be had actually has us pretty excited. I'm trying not to spend but hey, a girl needs some new shoes, right? And some new golf shirts, right? I'm willing to eat less (out that is) to pick up any good deals that present themselves to me. Sister-in-law and I managed to do a good bit of damage at the local Bealls when we showed up there one night just before closing. Incredible bargains! Can't wait to go back.

Renter Beware 2

2009-01-20T22:19:00.005-05:00

We've now looked at several places: a lovely LITTLE condo on a golf course with the hole in the bedroom window to prove it. A lovely half a house with an incredible layout and cathedral ceilings but 2 lanais in the dark (no sun), and the pool a car ride away. A single mobile that I actually liked (it had 3 recliners and I'm really getting used to reclining) except the beds were too small. A double-wide mobile that I liked, so spacious, but hubby didn't like the park it was in. So we are now moving into the same condo park as 2 of our friends. But. (Here comes Mrs. Fussy again!) But, the living room furniture isn't fit for the Sally Ann. As luck would have it, we found a set of rattan living room furniture for a song in perfect condition so we bought it, rented a van and moved it in our new place. Now I have to convince the landlord to let us chuck his stuff (really, it's pretty awful) and buy our stuff. Wish me luck. Can you tell I like these little challenges? But hubby doesn't. Poor man, I drive him crazy but I gotta give him credit: off he goes with me, rents the van, hauls the furniture and so on. Only gets a little testy when he gets hungry.

The upshot of all this is, we have a far better idea of what is out there in our price range. Friends took us to a very large mobile park that was quite impressive; beautiful, spacious mobiles, and a large population of Canadians live there. It has large pools, hot tubs and a gi-normous rec centre with all the bells and whistles, even a computer room with several PCs (looks like a government training room). The park is enhanced by a little lake curved around by a neat little nine-hole golf course. Part of the park is segregated for pet owners. It has loads of activities and looks like day after day of fun.

The lady showing us around confided her own impression, whispering "Yes, it's very nice but they don't seem to allow black or other ethnic groups in. I don't know how they do that but they apparently don't. They just recently let in the first gay couple." Hmmm. If that is the case, it's ironic, and sad, especially on a day when the first black president is being sworn in that so many are still striving to truly be treated as equals, and apparently, many are still holding them back. "Well, they let Seamus O'Hare* in," I joked making reference to her friend who is Irish. No one laughed.

So while it appears to be a lovely Shangrila, I have to wonder if it really is? As a Canadian who accepts, likes and enjoys living in a multicultural country, you have to ask yourself do you want to live in a community like that? The easy answer is no, I don't. The harder answer is yes (who doesn't like fun?) but then to stick to our principles would require the stamina and intent to get involved on the board to affect and change the exclusive policy and such decisions as to who is allowed to live there, assuming, of course, that the board would let the likes of us in there in the first place. I'm hoping the lady who said this got it wrong because if it is true then it means some of my fellow Canadians living there support what appears to be a racist policy. I don't like that.

Which leads me to applications. Every community of 55+ wants you to fill out an application to know who you are. They want to know who they're living with. As in the case above, there's nothing to say what their criteria for acceptance is. We had to fill out a form AND pay a small fee to be eligible to rent our 2nd condo and receive a pool and community centre pass. Despite having paid the landlord 3 month's rent and moving in our bargain furniture, we still don't know if we passed muster. We also don't know that their "policies" are. My eyes are a little wider open now. Wish us luck yet again.

Renter Beware

2009-01-12T14:59:00.007-05:00

Florida is, as promised, sunny. OK; not sunny today but most of the time it is. We weren't very sunny when we arrived here having opted to drive longer than planned and not spend a night in a motel when we could get to our destination before 9pm. With our newly acquired GPS, we could tell the landlady exactly when we'd be arriving and so it was.

Despite her assurances to meet us, she wasn't here. First bad sign. Gone to grab a quick bite, a neighbour told us. Eventually she showed up with her dad in tow (89 and about to turn 90 the next day). We slowly followed dad and her up the steps to our unit. Inside we had the whirlwind tour and as she was extolling her honesty and the cleanliness of the apt. & using the word "immaculate" I was staring at a dirty stove and a worrisome rain-stained ceiling. I was really wondering if she was perhaps blind. Second bad sign.

I should have pointed out my vision of this little shop of horrors then and there but I was a little shell-shocked being car-bound for 12 hours plus hubby had made a left hand turn almost into a ditch having missed a "street" which dear old GSP guided him to. As he backed out of that, with cars coming at us in the dark, I was sure we'd have a collision. I guess that was really the beginning of this little saga. All I really wanted to do, as she showed me the place, was to fall in bed. But no, "let me show you the pool and community centre." Zombie-like I followed. I mentioned friends were also staying here so next thing you know, landlady's knocking on their door. They're also renting from her. While it's all nice to say hello quickly, this wasn't quick. Our friends were glad to see the landlady as they had a list of things they were unhappy about or missing. Bad sign #3.

Finally we rid ourselves of the landlady (who, it turns out is really NOT the landlady but acting on behalf of her "friend" D who'll be coming down in a couple of days). We're beat and fall into bed. I awake but feel absolutely blue knowing in the light of day I'm going to have to do a more thorough check of the place. Things are surface clean, as if someone did the bare minimum. But the kitchen floor, fridge, stove and cupboards need scrubbing. We should have called friends to put us up and left then. But oh no...we buy cleaning supplies and get 'er done. Bad sign #4.

There's a mop but no pail. There's an ironing board but no iron. There's a sink but no dish rack nor towels. There's a new washer & dryer but landlady says it's not for our use; we have to use the laundry mat around the corner. What!!?? There's cable in both bedrooms but no TVs. The baseboards everywhere, white, are black with dust. The windows and windowsills - you don't wanna know. We're disheartened & should have been assertive with our dear landlady but no, we just get to it & clean. First bad move. Once all is clean, I feel better. Another friend in another area which we love offers a phone number to another place there. But we feel we're over the worst. This place is spacious and while definitely not modern (as my friend P says "a little tired"), will do now that it's clean. We give the number to our friends (the first ones with the list). Second bad move.

We give the landlady our list (iron, pail, dishrack, toaster, blender, bdrm TV, fix the patio screen [another story], cupboard liners [she or someone had started scraping the liners out of a couple of cupboards and just left the tool and scratched up liner there], strainer, patio chairs, oven mitts, and bedroom wastebaskets). She promises to get the items but its 4 days before she shows up with anything. Needless to say, we aren't eating toast for breakfast.

Our friends made the call and move into the new place. It's lovely, has everything including a different landlady, back balcony and front lanai AND it's cheaper! What the Hell were we thinking? We still don't have a toaster let alone a balcony and we gave that number away? Third bad move plus the ignomy of kicking ourselves for our own stupidity.

But it's not all bad. We can walk to the grocery store, the gym (named anytime cuz you can go "anytime"), church, etc. The pool is across the street and is a wonderful temperature and surrounded with chaise lounges. There is a BBQ, and a piano in the community centre so I can continue with my piano lessons. Our downstairs neighbours are wonderful and also happen to be the president and vice-president respectively of the condo corporation we're in. Both beds are king-like, meaning, they are king by virtue of two twin beds pushed together. The trick to making whoopee is to maneouvre so you're not about the fall through the crack! The landscaping is lovely, we're not on a busy street so it's very quiet. They don't seem to believe in water conservation (despite signs to the contrary) and the shower, compared to our lowflow at home, gives us copious amounts of water. We're still within walking distance of 3 other couples we know, one of whom we golf with.

On day 4, landlady shows up with most of the stuff on our list. We're in the toasting business again. But, bad sign #5, we mention that we'll be having guests. Sorry, she says. Guests can't stay beyond 2 weeks and we have a couple coming for a month. She asks for Jan and Feb rent. I tell her our deposit was to cover Jan and we only owe for Feb & Mar. These two things are my breaking point. I tell her that in that case I guess we won't be staying. I get on my soapbox. I turn into the horrible little bureaucrat I could sometimes be. Yes: Jekyll & Hyde, that's me. I let her have it. I set her straight about the rent & that she won't get a penny until Feb 1 and Mar 1 roll around. I tell her I'll be speaking to the condo prez & vice-prez about the guest limitation. I let her have it about the condition of the place. She asked why I hadn't complained about the cleanliness problem the first day. I said she'd had 6 months to get this place clean and what would one more day do? I was very stiff with her and was almost feeling bad when she apologized.

And it's funny. The longer you stay in a place, the more comfortable you get. It's really a pleasant place and now that most of the hurdles have been jumped, I could even recommend it. The prez said our guests could stay the month if they liked, no problem. He then showed us his place which is for sale and it's lovely and really IMMACULATE in the true sense of the word. Unfortunately, we're not in the market to buy. But we have decided to try to get over to where our first friend is staying as it's just more our style.

I knew going into this that taking a place sight unseen was a risk and as far as risks go, it wasn't that bad; however, we're now here a week and we have not unpacked as we expect to move at month's end. I've scanned the ads and have 2 possibles set up to view this week. Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well. Worst case scenario? We stay here. There are now mostly pluses to staying so who knows? One thing is for sure, we'll certainly know better next year and hope to lock into a place this year for next year so we don't go through this again.

Thank you to the Universe

2009-01-01T17:54:00.004-05:00

It's now 2009 with all the possible joy and fear that a new year portends. So to start it off on a positive note, I hereby express my gratitude to

- my family, near and far, for loving me despite my faults
- my friends for listening and supporting me through my ups and downs
- my parents, though gone. Thanks for having had such a good time. Had you not, I might not be here.
- my neighbours for their good humour and inclusiveness. Need to feel welcome? You should live here!
- my correspondents; those who take the time to send me personal notes or even routine jokes. Nice to still be connected albeit electronically.
- those who serve me locally and in the city. So pleasant. So helpful.
- the animals who enter my life through various means but who invariably enrich my life
- my teachers for their patience, their willingness to share their knowledge to help me learn
- those in whom I find fault for there's often a lesson to be learned, yes, even tho irked!
- my little town, my province, my country. What a great place to live! Who doesn't love Canadians and the Canadian way?! Yes, the weather can be a challenge but the views, the land, and our culture more than make up for it!
- and last, not least, those whose paths have crossed mine. It's always a pleasure.

I'm glad to be alive, to be able to dance, sing, make music and love. To cook and eat with gusto! To strap on my skates and glide (something we did today on the lake). To swim, paddle, walk, write, paint, golf, and collect and yes, even to dust for in dusting one is reminded of the feel of things. It's good to be alive. Economy be damned. It's good to be alive, to feel alive and especially to be living in Canada.

The Piano Recital

2008-12-21T16:39:00.003-05:00

Certain events envelop you in the spirit of Christmas, and last night's piano recital was one.

It was a perfect wintry night, crunchy snow, and -23 degrees as we approached the white farm house (my piano teacher's home) with its wraparound verandah. Old and young entered, breath steaming, stamping their boots, to be warmly welcomed by our teacher and D, her mother, and the four wide-eyed little girls each one head taller than the other, taking in each person as they arrived.

Ushered through the kitchen warmed by an incredible stove that looked from another era, we deposited the goodies we'd made to contribute to the festivities on a huge, long kitchen table.

Their giant Christmas tree resided in front of the bay window, obliterating it with its lights and decorations. Kids abounded, all pressed and shiney, girls and boys in bright colours, all eager to listen or play the piano which sat in Christmas splendor for it too was dressed up in a swag topped with red ribbon. Moms, dads, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles and in my case, a husband, found themselves spots in comfy chairs and sofas. The kids sat here and there on the floor making happy the huge grey barn cat which circulated amongst the many little bodies and hands reaching out to him. I'd met him earlier in the year, trying hard to squeeze by me at the door when I'd enter, but he's not allowed in until mid-November.

A colourful fruitpunch loaded with summer berries found its way to my hand, thanks to B's father. C, her brother, in his bright red shirt, black pants and suspenders also welcomed us. The show began. Our young teacher, B, looked like a Victorian beauty: her long hair pinned up to fall freely down her back to her waist, a pretty white blouse and vibrant full length skirt layered in reds swayed over her shiney black boots. She outlined the proceedings: she would draw a name, that student would play, then in turn s/he would take a lollipop, draw another name and so on. I felt nervous and wondered if the kids did too. No one looked it. B herself was the first to play. She made a few mistakes which she said were on purposed to relax the rest of us. It worked. And so the evening progressed, little voices announcing the next player, little players tackling their tunes, some shyly, some with great gusto, other with determination. Some with legs hanging over the edge of the piano bench, some with their toes barely touching the pedals and one (me) having to push the seat back to accommodate my height in this concert of Lilliputians. It was wonderful. We even learned a little anecdotal music history!

People beside me commented on the progress made by the students since last year. I was told I'd be amazed at my own progress by next year. I certainly hope they're right. It seemed my name would never be called but then it was. My cold hands shook; I was surprised at being so nervous. B introduced me as her first and only adult student. I hoped I wouldn't be her last. I also hoped no one had great expectations. I sat, caressed the keys and began. "Still, still, still" became shrill, shrill, shrill as my fingers found some wrong notes but I persevered. As luck would have it, the name I drew was my own so I had to play again. By this time, the nerves had dissapated and I aced it. The applause felt warmer for the second time.

The other students ranged from about 4 or 5 years old to 13 or 14, I guessed. Their diligence and hard work was evident. Little J, a very neat and self-possessed little boy, kept patting his shirt pocket where he'd amassed four lollipops, one for each of his performances. I couldn't keep my eyes from B's little sisters, four little stepping stones sitting almost at my feet. All were dressed in lovely Christmassy dresses with big sashes and bows, leotards and tidy little shoes, their hair as shiney as their bright eyes. They whispered amongst each other, pointed, laughed, petted the cat, gave each other little kisses and hugs, having a fine time. One could crawl up to Granny's lap from time to time for a better view. I had to step carefully through these delightful little girls to wend my way to the piano.

Before you knew it, our concert had come to an end. We trooped into the warm kitchen, working our way around the table laden with goodies then socialized in the large living room. I met a man who'd help create the Highlands golf course back in 1952. I didn't dare tell him that was the year I was born. He still golfs 4 times a week and his wife nodded knowingly when I told her I knew what it was like to be a golf widow. They were there supporting their lovely teenaged granddaughter who'd played one of her pieces by memory.

I also met B's grandmother whose mother had been a concert pianist. She herself, now in her 70's, did play as well but no longer. Gave away her piano, she said. I told her I'd learned that to master anything, one must devote at least 10,000 hours to it. At that rate, I told her, I'd be in my 80's. At that, she expressed regret she'd ever stopped playing. I hope I never do.

We left the farm embued with a wonderful sense of fellowship and warmth, happy and grateful for the open hands, hearts and minds we'd just spent time with. The Christmas spirit is truly alive and well and living in Kinburn. I look forward already to next year's recital.

Merry Christmas - 2008 - Happy New Year!

2008-12-21T16:18:00.006-05:00

Christmas is a comin',

our snowshoes are on the rack.

We'll soon be wearing golf shoes,

& we ain't a lookin' back!

So when the temp hits 80, we will think of you with cheer!
We'll both sit back, some beer we'll crack.

...Hope you have a great New Year!

Cheers,
W & D!

Road Rage

2008-12-07T23:14:00.004-05:00

It's always a joy running the four lane route from the city to the lake.

Hubby's rolling along not so fast in the fast lane.

Lights illuminate the backs of our heads. A truck is almost glued to our license plate.

Uh, hon, you might want to get in the middle lane...?

What for?

Well...that truck looks like he's gonna run us over. It might be prudent...?

If he wants to get ahead, he can go around us!

Well...how 'bout you pull over one lane, let him through....?

I'm driving in this lane cuz the middle lane closes down up ahead.

[yeah, in 3 or 4 kilometers...the truck careens around us on the right as we lollygag in the fast lane. I'm sure a saw a finger behind the muddy windshield]

Well...if he'd been doing this to you, you'd probably be mad as Hell. You hate people who do what you're doing. You were probably giving that trucker road rage...

Why the Hell do you always criticize my driving?

I'm not criticizing. I'm just asking. You'd do the same to me if our seats were reversed.

Silence reigns as the radio plays "Joy to the World!"

I Am Harper

2008-12-07T22:36:00.004-05:00

Sung to the tune of "I am Woman"
-Words and Music (and apologies to) by Helen Reddy and Ray Burton

I am Harper, hear me roar
My seats? Too many to ignore!
And I know too much to go back and pretend
cause I've heard it all before
Down there on the Commons floor
No one's ever gonna try to take me down again

CHORUS:
Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
So Canada's paid the price
But I'd do it all again
If I have to, I can do anything
I am bilingue (bilingue); I am très partisan (partisan); I am Harper

You can bend but never break me
'cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
To stay in power long, yes longer!
Still a bully, but less stronger
since coalition's burnt a hole deep in my soul

Oh yes I've screwed up big
But it never was my fault
Yes, Canuck's'll pay the price
But look how much I gained
Cuz I have to, I can face anything
I'm getting grey (grey); I wear my sweater (vest); I am Harper

CHORUS
I am Harper, watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
With Steph, Jack, Gilles and good old Mike Ignatieff
But I still run the PMO
With a long long way to go
Until I make Canadians understand

While the economy goes to Hell
I will quit, my dear Michaelle
If you don't prorogue the Commons when I say
I've bought time til January
When things will get even more scarey...
No, I'm not wrong (wrong); I'm not Obama (Obama); I am Harper!

An Ode to Joy

2008-11-22T20:58:00.004-05:00

Only in walking a dog who's been pent up for a while, can one truly enjoy a freezing, windy but sunny day. T and I pull on our woolly socks, wrap ourselves up the eyebrows, then pick up Spencer who is beside himself with joy at our coming to take him out for a walk. He stands still (sort of) only to have his little red coat and halter put on. Then we're off. Him looking like Santa's dog (all red and white).

When Spencer pulls you around the park and almost off your feet, you know it's been awhile since he's had a good run. And the snow. There's barely enough to cover the grass but it's enough for rolling in, and roll he does in doggy ecstacy! His head, his back, his belly. He licks it. He can't get enough then it's off on the run again. He outruns his nose, which stops immediately at an interesting scent but his body swings around as it receives the signal to stop a second later than the nose. You gotta laugh at his shenanigans.

We gingerly step out on the ice of the lake. Is it solid? How strong? I throw a big rock; it bounces off the ice. We step out and skate around, entice Spencer to skate a bit. He's not sure about this lack of sure footing.

We revel in his joy and enjoy the day so much more because of it. Our laughter chuffs steam in the cold, wintry air. Life is good.

Metronome

2008-11-22T20:46:00.003-05:00

Yes, I need a metronome. Keeping time is just another element to piano playing that adds to the challenge. Especially those tricky little eighth notes! I have a built in "beat" on the old organ so I make do with that but maybe one of those new fang-dangled metronome is what I need. They're no longer triangle shaped with the old tick-tock thingie: they're like little cell phones, for Heaven's sake. And you can program them with different beats and different beat sounds. Oh how we love to complicate simple things.

And the music is getting more complicated. Now, we've got the foot pedal introduced (as if just playing the notes wasn't hard enough, now I have to think about what my feet are supposed to be doing). Who invented piano playing anyway? Now, comes tricky beats. Now we're on notes that push fingers from five to seven. Didn't know piano players had 14 fingers, didja? Well, we do. Thumbs and baby fingers have to work a little harder than the others - they each gotta extra notes (poor things, especially the little baby fingers). They gotta stretch!!! And stretch they do. Who knew you could have lactic acid build-up in the muscles of your fingers!!?? Sheesh. But I am learning. The songs are getting a little trickier. This week's challenge is "Blow the Man Down" and how I'm working on blowing that one down. It sure isn't easy. But it's coming.

The next big challenge is the Christmas concert. I'm not concerned (yet) about what I'll have to learn to play...it's getting over being the biggest in the class. OK, I'll admit it. Not only the biggest, but the oldest. Ok, not only the oldest but the one with the grayest hair. Not only with the grayest hair but with the most flatulence. Awww, do I HAVE to do the Christmas concert?????

Organ vs Piano but there's progress

2008-10-28T22:53:00.004-04:00

My organ is lovely and has a history: R bought it for his lovely wife, E. However, sadly, E died and R doesn't play so he let it go for a song to me (who also doesn't play). But I'm determined to play, hence my signing up for piano lessons even though the instructor had reservations about my playing on an organ, not a piano.

At first it didn't matter. The notes were simple and I simply stayed in "piano" mode on my organ taking care not to touch any of the 80+ other buttons available to me. But as I progress I realize playing the organ in preparation for my session on the instructor's piano is akin to practising on an electric typewriter then taking an exam on a manual. Somehow the fingers get lazy: they are used to the ease of the organ keys whereas the piano demands of the fingers some stamina, some muscle, some pressure! More speed. Aghhhhh!

I've checked out Lionel Pauzé's piano store in Almonte where there are some very lovely new and refurbished (my price range) pianos of a size suitable to my small digs. Dilemma: stick with the organ or switch to a piano? When one doesn't know what to do the best thing is to do nothing which is my choice of the moment. There is definitely starting to be a large gap where such things as crescendo and diminuendo (dynamic signs) cannot be done on the organ (or maybe I just haven't figured out how). The pedals (3) on the piano can't compare to the multiple pedals on the organ (all of which scare me).

And so the disparities in my two musical vehicles are starting slowly to pose little problems.

But what's wonderful is my reportoire is expanding. Incredibly, I can now play:

Ode to Joy
Aura Lee (aka Love me Tender)
Rock along and Mexican Hat Dance
Au claire de la lune and a Tisket, a Tasket (what are those things anyway?)
Good King Wencelas & Jingle Bells (getting ready for Christmas!)
Brother John and Here's a Happy Song and Merrily we Roll Along
Largo, Mary Ann (a toughie), Rockets (easy) and What Can I Share?
My favourite - When the Saints (the only one I have actually memorized)
Love Somebody, A Friend like You
The animal songs: Donkey and the Cuckoo. Note: animal songs are HARD!
My lifestyle song: Money Can't Buy Everthing
The lovely and serene Harp Song
The almost impossible Beautiful Beautiful Brown Eyes (Dear Lord, why does this song give me such grief?)
Good morning to You and...wait for it...
Happy Birthday to You which arrived just in time for me to torment my poor husband to death as it was my personal challenge the very week of his 60th birthday!! Quelle coincidence!
Now I'm "Standing in the Need of Prayer" trying to master eighth notes. But there's a trick to it and I think (hope and pray) I've figured it out. Tomorrow night's lesson review will tell the tale.

Amazing progress don't you think? Next we explore the Metronome!

Never too Old to Learn

2008-10-15T22:57:00.003-04:00

I have started taking baby steps toward fulfilling a personal goal: to play the piano. Yes, I'm in week 5 of my lessons and am starting to sweat.

At first it was a piece of cake. But now the chording and coding is getting more challenging. My teacher is excellent. Only 18, she's at the Grade 10 level in the Toronto Conservatory of Music. She's very patient and kind. The only problem is: seeing her only once per week means I have an entire week to practise, oftimes in error as there is no one about to tell me I'm getting it wrong. Of course, it all sounds good to me!

Humility, they say, is good for one's soul and I'm becoming more and more humble every week. But: I have mastered When the Saints Come Marching In and even had a few singers join in when I played it for a friend in a seniors' residence last week. So what if it's the only song in my repertoire? My challenge this week is "Beautiful Brown Eyes"...tricky little piece...but who knew?

Next, my organ vs piano dilemma.

Name that Harley!

2008-10-07T14:30:00.003-04:00

This story is for all my motorcycling friends. Enjoy.

While walking with L and Spencer around the park, we came across W who, wanting to stop raking leaves for a few minutes, shared this story.

Having lost his way to a new golf course, W stopped in at a ladies' gym to ask directions. The lady at the desk knew exactly what course he was looking for and told him this:

"You're on the right road. Keep going straight until you come to the Suck-Bang-and-Blow, then make a right, it's right past there."

Not sure he heard her right, W repeated the instructions, then asked (trying to keep a straight face, and thinking the worst), "What exactly IS the Suck-Bang-and Blow?"

"Oh," she said, "I guess you're not from around these parts?"

"No," he admitted, "we're Canadian."

"Well," she told him, "the Suck-Bang-and-Blow is the motto of our local Harley Davidson shop."

And sure enough, as W followed her directions, he drove right past a Harley dealership with this huge sign that read "Suck, Bang and Blow."

Fall Reflections

2008-10-04T14:11:00.004-04:00

Fall is upon us. She's showing herself in so many ways...it makes me wistful. The geese have started their long journey and not a day goes by that I don't look up and wish them safe journey. Pumpkins and mums are popping up by everyone's doorsteps. Yet there's still the odd vibrant rose and shasta daisy competing for attention here and there. The "dollyhocks" are in full bloom and I am enjoying every single one as they're not perenniels thus won't be seen until the summer after next, same as my foxgloves.

The lake reflects all the hues of the golds, oranges and reds of the soon-to-fall leaves. I've filled two pumpkin-faced bags with those already fallen and moved four other bags already to the compost area. Yes, to Hell with yoga for the moment - I'm into raking big time!

I've cleaned out the garden except for the carrots and swiss chard which are still bravely growing. My tomatoes, red, green and my favourite - yellow, are gifts from my garden which we're greatly enjoying.

I've yet to take down the hummingbird feeder, but it is time. Maybe today. Chickadees and finches are begging at the feeders already and the jays have done their work on the nuts from nearby oak trees. Spencer and I still find the odd frog who hasn't yet gone underground for the winter. The snake he was so interested in is no longer; unfortunately, someone ran over it and now it's a leather S on the pavement (poor thing). But that one aside, this had to be a good year for snakes. I've never seen so many snake babies as this year (most of them on golf courses).

The sail boat is still in the lake and I must go down today and bail as we've had rain. I can't bring myself to take her out just yet and hope tomorrow will bring wind so we can have one last run across the bay. Speaking of rain, I am rain-ready having bought a brand new pair of rubber boots - red plaid! They make me feel jaunty just writing about them.

Next to store are all my garden goblins and junk. I stash all kinds of things here and there in my garden but there comes a time when it must be re-stashed in the shed. One poor item, a blue trumpet-playing frog - a gift from my friend P - has barely had time to adjust to his new digs and now he'll be mummified for another 7 or 8 months. Just saying that arouses the spectre of Winter!!!!

The days seem grimmer somehow. The sun shines here and there when the clouds manage to spare the space. The north wind prompts hat and coat attire. Yes, it's autumn, that season of winding down. It's election time here in Canada which is also rather depressing. But, it's all part of the cycle. The beauty of the trees all around certainly do arouse the spirits, particularly when spotlit with sunshine. The golf courses are at their peak as is my golf game. Pity, as that'll soon end. It's hard to believe it's October already. Truly a time to give thanks despite headlines full of doom and gloom.

I'm Still Listening

2008-09-19T14:11:00.006-04:00

I often listen to the radio, specifically CBC. Yes, that likely puts me in the nerd category as I personally know very few of my friends who are amongst my fellow listeners even though I know CBC radio is popular with many Canadians and non-Canadians. Recent statistics cite a definite dearth of listening teenagers in radio (let alone the CBC versions) as IPods and internet steal them away. Seems the audience is mostly us "oldtimers" but who really knows for sure? All I know is CBC radio gives my brain food for thought. It teaches me things I never knew before or presents views that open up my mind. It challenges me, and for the most part, keeps me optimistic and proud to be Canadian. I think CBC radio is one of the best things going on out there and talk of changes to it make me quake.

My favourite radio time is 8:45ish, Wednesday nights when Outfront comes on. Invariably, I'm in the car either returning from nine holes with the girls or coming back from piano lessons (yes...more about that on a subsequent blog). It's always dark on the country roads I travel and I love the sound of the various voices of other Canadians telling me their stories - fascinating snippets of the voices and sounds of their lives -- against a backdrop of stars. I'm tempted to apply to Outfront to present my own version of "sounds like Canada" but have yet to be inspired. Tune in to Outfront one night - I guarantee you'll like it.

Radio's a funny thing. It doesn't take much to stop you in your tracks and wish for an instant replay button. Listening to The Current the other day, I heard a commentator refer to the "boogey people." Now perhaps the context of the phrase should have clued me in but it didn't. My attention to his point stalled on that expression. Boogey people? Who the Hell are boogey people? A new dance troup? A nose picking group? Yes, I'm a little slow but suddenly I got it: he was just being politically correct. Aghhhh! He meant bogeyman; that monster that scares the bejesus out of us all. See what I mean about having to think? Ok, not too cerebral but hey! I wish someone on the panel had had the chutzpa to pick up on the silliness of his PC-ness.

It's said radio is losing ground to TV and internet. I hope not. As kids, we regularly listened to the radio. Every noon, when Dad was home for lunch (good grief! how many kids can say that today?), everyone had to be quiet, had to listen as Parliament Hill bells chimed the hour. For the longest time, I thought the radio program was called "Shits, the News" but eventually I figured it out: "Shhhh. It's the News!" The program would start with the ticking of a clock as Eastern Standard Time was established for all to re-set their watches. On our radio station, I also seem to recall (I hope someone can verify this) the recital of the Hail Mary in French although all programming was in English. Now this could just be a result of one of my faulty brain cells hence my wish for confirmation by someone with a better memory than mine.

Regardless, at that time, the 50's and 60's, radio engaged our brains, our imaginations and expanded our world. As there are still many corners of the world with little illumination, I can only hope radio will continue to play its part: shedding light.

Keep Leaping

2008-09-18T22:44:00.002-04:00

To paraphrase Wikipedia, a leap of faith may be seen as a transition from one state of being (or other quality) directly to another without any overlap, that is: without possessing or occupying both qualities at the same time.

Some of us look before we leap and others just leap. We take intellectual leaps of faith every day…in traffic for example. We assume everyone hurtling at us from the other side of the road is as caring, well-trained and attentive as we are. And if they’re not, well…we’re defensive, aware and responsive. So we’ll be safe. Daily we leap into the automatic “all is well” mode.

Some leaps, by nature, are physical. On a zip line at Tremblant’s Acrobranche, for example, I had to convince myself the caliper and line would hold me if I stepped off the platform into thin air. My brain screamed “Can I trust it?” and my instincts via heart palpitations, fear, and sweating advised “Don’t do it!” in the many minutes it took before I simply inhaled and leapt into space. Or stepping again, into falling, falling, falling 14 feet into water off our local pier. I trust that it’s safe, that I’ll land safely. As would any bungee jumper.

Some leaps are metaphysical, for instance: marriage. I’d chosen my spouse, and he’d chosen me. He wasn’t my parents’ choice however. Nor was I his mother’s choice. They’ll grow to love him, I thought; I’ve made a good choice and wondered if he thought the same. And I leapt into marriage without a backward glance. After all, he had everything I was looking for. It was a leap of faith that's still paying dividends as we continue to enjoy each other's company and head into our 39th wedded year.

During a recent exercise, my yoga instructor commented on my willingness to let go. I had to trust her with my body as she contorted, massaged, and stretched it. Once again, I took a leap of faith and just let myself totally relax. I trusted her not to hurt but to help me, and she did. What a wonderful session it was!

Of course leaps of faith most often refer to faith itself. Faith in God, believing in God. Leaping from non-belief to belief requires one to suspend logical, rational, reasoned thought. Or does it? I’ve watched some of my contemporaries grapple with that leap. Many, like my husband, make it fully across the gap, and simply believe as it comforts them. Many are believers from childhood; they leapt early. Some are left straddling the gap hoping for the relief belief in a Divine Deity can bring but calling it by other names they’re comfortable with. That comforts them but they’re in that awkward almost-transition, not really having leapt at all. And some never take the leap, never approach the gap, but are comfortable living within the realm of their own rationalizations and feeling of rightness.

Take a moment to think about and reflect on your own leaps of faith. Have you leapt lately?

The First Time

2008-09-05T18:58:00.003-04:00

I confess: I love golf. But my introduction to it wasn't the best. Picture this:

Mother's Day, 22 years ago. Without a shred of self-interest, my husband and my brother-in-law decided the best gift they could give to their wives (my sister and I) was a round of golf. On a BIG course. That being a full eighteen-holer, not an Executive (or short) course. Oh no. Go big or go home.

God, how I wished we'd gone home. Now, know that my sis and I had never held golf clubs before. We swiped and whiffed and trudged valiantly behind our dear husbands until finally, somewhere on the 18th hole, we simply gave up, sat down under a large elm, and refused to go any further until the boys vowed to take us out for Chinese food. That was a deal.

I remember being too hot, too tired, and a terrible golfer. Of course, what else to expect? Without a single lesson and not being naturally gifted, I couldn't expect otherwise. But that day, that round...unbeknownst to me...was to be the beginning of many more rounds. All of which, have been so much more enjoyable!

Writing in a Void

2008-09-03T12:40:00.005-04:00

Sometimes, when I'm writing to this blog, it feels like sending a missive out into space. Who knows if it'll be read? Who knows if anyone will read it or take a moment to comment? Why do I even bother? But bother I apparently continue to do if to ensure the memories stay fresh.

We're experiencing wonderful weather right now. It's as though Summer has finally decided to show her face in days bursting with sunshine and heat, just as Fall is starting to show his face in the odd lawn dappled with fallen maple leaves and apples.

Yesterday, I was the only one in my yoga class. P, my instructor, gave me such personalized attention, I felt like a million dollars when I left. What a treat it was.

Then, some of us local girls met and chatted over coffee on M's new deck. It was so hot, we had to move indoors. After lunch, three of us threw our kayaks into the Madawaska and paddled idly down river, taking in nature, cottages and the beauty of the day reflected in the mirror of the river's surface. We stopped and swam at a sandy beach - the water was so warm! What a wonderful September treat. We are so lucky to be living in such an incredibly beautiful and peaceful land. Sometimes I feel like pinching myself: it's Heaven.

Hubby and I had had a most lovely weekend which started Thursday golfing with friends at the fiendish Smugglers' Glen. It's not for the faint of heart. Friday saw rain so the Casino at Gan welcomed us in and gladly took what money we would've spent on golf. Our friends headed for home up the 416 but we dawdled up 32, hitting wonderful little shoppes.

We spent too much at Kilborn's on the Rideau (what an awesome place to shop), ate too much at the Stagecoach Restaurant (cinnamon buns, anyone?) and played just enough at Rideau Lakes golf course. Dinner at the Opinicon Lodge was to die for (no calory counting there) and hubby even saw a deer strolling near the parking lot! The Stirling Lodge put us up for the night in an old manor that looked like something out of a Trish Romance painting (12 foot ceilings), and next morning threw in a very satisfying breakfast to boot! We then golfed Evergreen GCC near Westport, with some very nice people, then dined in Perth at the GoodWood Oven...ummm! And, of course, it's always good to return home feeling totally spoiled by that husband of mine. I am such a lucky woman in so many ways.

Dolly (1988 - 2008)

2008-08-19T22:44:00.008-04:00

Yesterday, a tiny but wonderfully spunky spirit passed from our lives. Dolly, our dear little spitfire of a cat, has died despite our thinking she’d be with us forever. Dolly suffered from renal failure; a common ailment of elderly cats according to the vet. Also, given her age - 20 human years - she was, plain and simply, old. Old and worn out.

She signaled her resignation from life by refusing food and water. Even cheese, her favourite. We knew it was bad when she passed on the cheese, although trooper that she is, she did make a valiant effort to taste the itsiest bitsiest piece. In retrospect, it wasn’t so much refusal as simply her not being able.

We knew it was bad when she stopped talking to us for she was a very verbose cat. Her conversation usually took the form of orders. As in “Get out of my shower!” She believed she owned the shower and my husband’s or my presence there was barely tolerated. You had to be careful stepping out for the Shower Nazi would be sitting directly at the door giving you her sternest glare. Or “Get to bed!” when I stayed up too late, the vocalization undeniably an order while she’d sit in the hallway glaring at me like an irritable old grandmother. Honestly - it was unnerving. Or her relentless “Get out of bed” at 5:29 am every morning. 5:30 am is hubby’s usual wake-up time but she’d always manage to beat the alarm by a minute which, during the week, was OK but not very welcome on weekends. Ignoring her meant a parade of paws up and down your body on the most vulnerable spots (still a welcome change from pushing things off the dresser or side tables).

We knew it was bad as she got thinner and thinner over the past year despite our best efforts to engage her appetite: freshly cooked chicken, various types of fish, special cat food. All to little avail. Her digestive system was failing and the gurgles embarrassingly loud – she’d simply ignore them. At her last vet visit, she weighed only 5 pounds and I hesitate to estimate what that delicate little skeleton enrobed in silky-soft fur weighed.

We knew it was bad when she stopped grooming herself. No doubt she knew her coat was in disarray; still, she showed her appreciation and love of being groomed and stroked with her favourite brush every day by constant circling back to ensure a good chin rub and then follow through from head to tail-tip. Until her legs could no longer hold her steady.

She stopped playing around. In July, we played our last game of Catch My Tail where she’d sit still with her back to you and allow you to pet her tail before whipping it away only to waft it gently over your hand again and again, temptingly. She had incredible control of that tail. Nor had we played Who’s Under the Door in quite a while…she loved to chase your hand or whatever was at hand from the opposite side of a shut door. Suffice to say, there was just enough leeway for her polydactyled paw to tap blindly at whatever caught her imagination, and she was faster than lightening! Thursday, in her guise as "littlest pony," I saw her take one last mad dash up and down the hallway. Maybe trying to outrun how she was feeling.

On Friday, her decline was bad, Saturday was worse and Sunday was unbearable.

I had a bad moment at 2:30 am one night when I saw a green light emanating from the bathroom. Half asleep I wondered when spirits move on, could they generate light? Had Dolly just died? I must have dreamed it. But no, there it was again, a very faint green glow. Knowing we have no night-lights in that room, I nudge hubby. “My shaver’s recharging,” the sleepy reply. Ahhhh.

We debated our responsibility. Was it better to allow her to pass away on her own or God’s timetable or to euthanize her? Neither felt right.

We knew it was bad when we didn’t recognize her voice, a few weak croaks of dissent as I picked her up, then acquiescence and total silence as we drove down the road to the vet’s. As there’d been a last minute emergency, we had privacy and extra time to say our goodbyes, to touch and love Dolly a little longer, and to thank her for being such a joy in our lives.

The vet and her assistant were wonderfully supportive, explaining what would happen, what to expect. A general anesthetic “to take the edge off,” a quick but gentle shaving of her forearm, then the vet expertly finding a vein, despite Dolly’s dehydration, to administer the heart-stopper. It was over. Her spirit and life gone in an instant.

We grieve her passing. We’re grateful for this last summer and the pleasure it brought her. We’ll miss her beauty, her other-worldly emerald eyes, her attitude and her presence, and the loss of her cheerful chirrups welcoming us home. We'll miss her touch, that gentle tap-tap on face, hand or knee to signal her need of attention, and her barely discernible purr. We feel her lack in all rooms of our house. Memories are strong and tears assail us when we least expect it. Dolly was very special, being intelligent and loaded with personality and chutzpa. She didn’t seem to know she was just a little cat. Feisty as hell, she took on those bigger and better, be it cats, dogs or people and she usually won. Just being herself, she touched our lives and those of our relatives and friends.

We pray she’s frolicking and enjoying all the mint in the Big Catnip Patch in the Great Beyond. Goodbye, sweet Smidge.

Our Rustic Arbour

2008-08-09T16:01:00.005-04:00

I love rustic things, furniture, birdhouses, plant holders – you name it. My dream of building my own rustic arbour began while kayaking on Lake Mindemoya on Manitoulin Island. I’d spotted a vine or tree of some sort which had twisted upon itself in climbing another stronger tree onshore. And so the seed of a design began for my arbour. But step one was convincing my husband and brother to retrace my kayak path but in the boat with a saw to retrieve it. That obstacle was more easily overcome (with much explanation, of course) than expected. My brother thinks twisty wood is really tag alder…anyone know for sure?

But once you spot twisty wood once, you see it everywhere! Hubby spotted some on our cottage landlord’s land; it was even more incredible than the wood we already harvested. With the landlord’s blessing, we harvested that too with a little more difficulty. It required climbing on the roof of the car, my hubby hanging like a gorilla for the thing was hard to take down.

These several large pieces of twisty wood accompanied us home and lived in the garage over the fall, winter and spring (my deadline for creating the harbour was this summer). As luck would have it, I also found some old cedar fencing long abandoned in a swampy area. Again, poor hubby was recruited to help me load up the station wagon. And the twisty wood had the cedar pieces for company over the long cold winter.

Walking Spencer one day, I spot more “twisty wood” down by the Fire Hall. My reluctant recruit, poor old hubby, once again came to the rescue, sawing and hacking off a few more pieces to better enhance the arbour.

People were beginning to doubt my dream. “Are you really gonna build something with that stuff?” I’d be asked. Sometimes I wondered myself. In a moment of doubt, I asked a renown wood man up the road if he'd like to have it, and while he was tempted, he encouraged me. Just listen to the wood, he said, it'll tell you what to do. So I drew up a vague plan, once again recruited Old Faithful (hubby) - we listened to the wood and just did it!

It’s a pretty basic structure: four pieces of cedar standing upright, connected top and bottom by other cedar cross pieces. And the twisty wood? Well, it’s the décor down the front, down each side and across the top. I’ve added to rustic birdhouses, a couple of tin birds and a humming bird feeder. Ants are drawn to it and so, of course the birds love it: chickadees, woodpeckers, wrens, and finches. It frames my neighbour’s garden of summer flowers beautifully. There are some twisty pieces reaching up into the sky which I wanted to cut off, but hubby like them and so we compromised - now the birds have a nice tall perch with which to serenade the world.

It isn’t the steadiest structure in the world but we’ve done our best to reinforce its stance with pieces of rebar pounded into the earth and securely attached.

Maybe next summer I’ll add a creeper of morning glory or a phalanx of holly hock but for now it stands in its own plain glory, drawing the attention of birds and neighbours, and pleasing the eye of those who bathe in our hot tub.

Framing neighbour's garden

More detail (other side)

More on life and death: Road Kill

2008-07-08T15:02:00.005-04:00

No one is insensitive to the amount of roadkill seen every year May through October. One would think a "developed civilisation" such as our's would have managed to address this problem by now. Unhappily, no, we have not. According to Mahatma Gandhi: "You can judge a society by the way it treats its animals."

The human view is: better to kill them than ourselves. The advice is standard: if one cannot safely brake, then it is better to collide with the animal than risk injury or death in trying to avoid it. Statistics are rampant throughout the Web as to the number of human and animal deaths. Human injuries and vehicular damage (and resultant insurance costs) are also tracked but animal injury is not, given those who survive the initial impact retreat to nature to either heal or die...so animal deaths stats should include a + sign.

In my family, we've hit (and obviously survived) a moose, and a deer. The moose -- hit first by another car, then us -- was toast. The deer we're not sure as it bounced off the car and then was no where to be found. In both collisions, we count ourselves lucky. The cars, not us, were damaged. My husband narrowly missed hitting a large buck as it bounded from one ditch to another, and I was lucky when a deer ran between my car and an approaching car at dusk. My brother-in-law and his co-worker recently avoided killing a bear, not seeing, therefore running over, the two small cubs following her out of the ditch. People my sister knows avoided an animal collision but were badly injured themselves in doing so.

I used to think since we paint the roads, why not put some kind of scent to deter animals in the paint? According to some websites, animals quickly become inured or "habituated" to such deterrents so they work for a little while but not long. According to the Canada Safety Council, others are working on other means such as:

Corridors like the 8-foot high Parks Canada fence along the Trans-Canada Highway through Banff National Park and the 22 underpasses (culverts) and two 164 foot wide overpasses built. Highway kills dropped 96 per cent.
Designating high risk road sections may cause drivers to slow down
The Wildlife Warning System, developed by Saskatoon-based International Road Dynamics Inc., uses proven technologies that sense approaching vehicles and then activate deterrents such as sounds or lights to warn animals in the area. The Saskatchewan government, testing the system on a stretch of highway notorious for wildlife-vehicle collisions, has published no official results yet, but its first year of operation has seen deer-vehicle collisions drop.
Similar NASA infrared technology called NightVision (TM) is available in some General Motors cars. This helps the driver to to detect potentially dangerous situations, such as the presence of animals or pedestrians, beyond the range of the headlamps.

In CFC's words: there is still no substitute for a defensive driver.

Species most at risk are frogs, snakes and turtles. In my area, from my own day to day survey in my area, the majority of the dead are frogs, raccoons, porcupine and deer. In the case of frogs, entire species are at risk of disappearing.

For more tips on this topic, visit this wonderfully helpful site Wildlife Collision Prevention Program from the province of British Columbia in Canada. Learn to reduce the chance of a collision, what to do if you hit an animal, and where and when collisions might occur.

I stop to move slow-moving turtles out of the way (unless they happen to be snappers). I drive more slowly in high risk areas and pull over to let others pass if I'm too slow for the other road warriors.

I utter a little "God bless" under my breath everytime I see some hapless animal obliterated by a vehicle, and pray we find some way to stop this carnage.

On Managers: the good and the not so good

2008-07-08T13:28:00.006-04:00

It's an overcast day, humid and hot, and promising rain. It's a good day for reflection which is what I'm doing instead of bringing in the washing from the line.

I'm reflecting on managers I've had in the past. Those I've loved best trusted me, and in letting me shine, they shone. Those I didn't love at all tried to bully or or victimize or stifle me...they couldn't or wouldn't let me shine and tarnished themselves as a result.

What distinguishes a good manager from a bad? Here's my admittedly simplistic take on it:

A good manager is, simply put: a good human being. She or he...

communicates the goal, and the work needed to achieve the goal
trusts you and your abilities to get the job done
is not threatened by you or your abilities but uses these in a positive way to achieve the organization's goals
advises or guides but does not to do the work assigned to you
is constructively critical (but not mean) when necessary to help you redirect or improve your efforts
recognizes your limitations and encourages ongoing development or change
appreciates and recognizes your efforts
has a healthy approach to life in general which in turn is reflected in healthy relationships with others be they above or below him or her in the hierarchy
has the betterment of the organization at heart
has a sense of humour to make fun a part of working life and workplace "fun"damentals.

People who work for good managers themselves improve as human beings. They become successful people in their own right, often as well-liked leaders and achievers. They develop others who continue to contribute to the health (and wealth) of the organization or to the world at large.

On the other hand, a bad manager is usually a human being still developing or needing to develop their own self to become a better human being. She or he might...

not communicate or does communicate but on inappropriate matters, not work-related
mistrust staff, double-check their work or re-assign work without explanation
take steps to discredit or remove employees by whom he or she feels threatened
take credit rightly due to staff
bullies or victimizes staff due to own feelings of inferiority, vulnerability or importance
gossips about staff or asks employee's opinions about other co-workers
offers employees affection (favouritism) or gifts to compensate for his or her own destructive behaviour
is obviously dysfunctional and lacks a healthy approach to life overall. In other words, is no fun
creates a noxious or toxic work environment
has his or her own goals at heart, not the organization's

People who work for bad managers (BMs) can

experience ill health or setbacks or achieve nil to slow advancement in the workplace as their efforts focus on attending to the stress and negativity of the "bad manager experience" OR
they become bad managers themselves, not having experienced or learned any better thus continuing to populate the world with BM's OR
they improve as human beings in resolving not to emulate the bad manager. They too can be successful people in their own right, often as well-liked leaders and achievers, by choosing the good manager profile and rejecting the bad.

As I write this, while I've used the term "manager", I can't help but see this good/bad parallel exists everywhere: parents/children, relatives, coaches, friends, neighbours. How are YOU doing in this good manager/bad manager scenario?

I'm proud of Canada

2008-07-03T14:44:00.004-04:00

This is about as blatantly political as I get. I find it ironic that 2 days after unanimously celebrating Canada's birthday, we're divided about celebrating Canada's choice to receive the Order of Canada.

The abortion issue has always been highly controversial and divisive in Canada, and I would add, throughout the world. Today, in Canada, people are reacting to the news that Henry Morgentaler, MD, has been named to the Order of Canada.

Some think it's an abomination, a day of shame for Canada. I think it's a day of pride for Canada and I congratulate those who decided Dr. Morgentaler merited this honour. Seldom does one see a person who puts himself and his family on the line for his beliefs.

I won't enter the discussion of when is a life a life and whether one has the right to take a life. I'm sure to get a few comments pro and con and I respect those who would argue with me.

I believe Dr. Morgentaler's work has saved lives. His work brought abortion out of the backstreets and into safe, clean clinics. His work has brought the word "abortion" into the open. It has been and will continue to be the source of much controversy and dispute, and his receiving the Order of Canada won't change that. But let it be a good thing as we, society, continue our evolution and our struggle in dealing with choices.

More on the story: http://www.cbc.ca/canada/story/2008/07/02/f-morgentaler.html

What is the Order of Canada? http://www.gg.ca/honours/nat-ord/oc/index_e.asp

Where did June go?

2008-07-03T14:22:00.004-04:00

I'm really not sticking to my original intention - to blog daily. Here a whole month has gone by and I'm blog-less! No, I don't intend to make up one month with this blog but perhaps my daily agenda can help renew my memory.

June saw me

leave my temporary job where I made new friends, found a new purpose and learned new things.
have another wonderful weekend with my friend, Pat who helps with the annual garage sale and we enjoy re-introducing her dog, Reilly to Spencer. Reilly's the boss, of course!
escaping to Toronto for a mother/daughter theatre outing with my sister, her daughter, my daughter and me. Dirty Dancing was every bit as good (if not better) than the movie. We all tried not to cry at the end - such sucks we are!
enjoying the company of my brother Tom and his wife Julie who arrived unexpectedly on their noisey old Harley for a quick visit.
getting my hair cut
lunching with my sister Syb who is recovering from an operation
gardening...is there any end to the weeds I can manage to grow? I ended up with some kind of dermatitus on my fingers that has seriously eroded the skin on my hands. That'll teach me to pull weeds without gloves!
golfing...although we've had so much rain, it's hard to run between the raindrops
decorating R & P's golfcart for the July 1 (formerly Dominion Day, aka Canada's Birthday) parade...they were a great big hit, especially Spencer who sat regally with a Canada fag rag dangling down his back.

I still haven't gotten into the kayak nor put the sailboat in the water. Am trying to be diligent about walking dear old Spencer and loving dear old Dolly to bits given she's running out of lives.

Life is good here at the lake. The grass is green (how can it not be with all the rain we've had?), the loons make their nightly love calls, the robins are worming for their youngins and I'm re-retired!

It's......Froggin' time!

2008-05-26T21:51:00.003-04:00

It's nights like these that remind why we choose to live by a lake. The sun had set, the sky was beautiful, painted as only God can. From the sounds of their honking, Canada geese were on the fly way down the lake. Closer, a pair of mallards did a very fast fly by. The martins were performing their acrobatics, on the hunt for bugs of which there were plenty over the water. The surface of the water steamed as warm met cool. It was quiet but not. Several families of martins had recently re-possessed their homes, a high apartment house beside the shore, and they were celebrating big time. But there was no human nor car traffic, just the wonderful stillness of Nature and Her sounds.

Spencer, unusually, walked beside me. He's not himself, suffering from an internal bug that's had him down the past four days. Usually, he's well ahead, beside or behind me, racing this way and that. To have him walk beside me is most unusual, poor lad. As the road rounds the corner away from the lake, it crosses a drainage ditch open at either end. This is where frogs be found. Could it be too early? Methinks not. "Frogs, Spencer? Frogs?" He's immediately at the search and is rewarded with one the size of my fist who is not afraid. Watching them nose to nose makes me laugh out loud. The frog jumps, Spencer jumps and the chase is on (Spencer being careful not to step on or bite at his little green buddy but on the scent nonetheless)! We find one more sitting kamikaze-like in the middle of the road. Spencere almost lost interest but then the leap-frogging began.

Despite those moments of fun, once the frog found the ditch, Spence was back to his listless self. He even let me win the race from the corner up to the house - which we all know he can win without the least amount of effort. Yes, my little white curly-haired friend is truly ill but he sits most gracefully awaiting his treat. Most days, this little guy has so much energy his coat can barely contain it; it's worrisome to see him so listless. P and R, his people, took him to the vet today for a shot; let's hope he feels better soon.

Back to her old self!

2008-05-25T22:30:00.003-04:00

A few days ago, I wrote I thought our dear old Dolly was dying...and she was. A five pound cat can't afford to lose too many pounds! We took her off the antibiotic even though we didn't see the prescription through as prescribed. What good is healing when it kills?

I decided to discontinue her meds and immediately Dolly's appetite woke up. She's eating regularly now, no more blood in her urine and she's filling out nicely. The second bottle of meds sits coldly in the fridge; there, if we need it but I pray we won't.

No longer is she isolating herself on her favourite mat in the bathroom. No longer is she avoiding us (the bearers and imposers of bad medicine!). She's back to her chatty self, caterwauling to wake us up at 5:14 am, sitting in my lap, pushing our buttons to open the door - any door - so long as it leads to the out of doors. Her eyes are shiney as is her coat. Best of all, her appetite has returned. Dolly is back!

Such a good line...

2008-05-23T21:50:00.002-04:00

One of my co-workers, KM, has been vacationing back home in Newfoundland. He came back with a saying that's priceless: "You're so smart, you should go away!"

Of course it's layered with meaning. If you're smart you will leave Newfoundland for greener pastures, better jobs, better economy. At the same time, it's insulting: "Get out of here, you smart-ass!" Of course, Newfoundland needs to keep its smart young people - what province can afford to lose them?

I've never met a people (and I'm counting all the Newfoundlanders I've ever met which is quite a few) who are so clever at word play, who have such a charming sense of humour, whose expressions tickle one so. KM says he'll have to re-adjust his accent to Ottawa again having been exposed to Newfoundlandese for several days.

If you like words from different origins, check out the Dictionary of Newfoundland English; there are some wonderfully different words. One can't help but think of other influences. For instance: "alley-coosh" meaning "go to bed". If you know French, it's almost phonetically the same as "allez coucher" which is pronouced: allay coushay...ummm. Not much detective work there. EH, another NFLD friend has told me about brewis: sea-biscuit or 'hard tack' soaked in water and then boiled with salt cod and fat pork. Ya know you're a Newfoundlander if you've tried brewis!

When I visited St. John's, I was advised "Yous got to try cod cheeks or cod tongue!" (Yes, "yous" is another delightful Newfoundlandism.) Well I have to admit cod cheeks are delicious! I wasn't there long enough to found an establishment serving cod tongue tho.

If you haven't been, go visit Newfoundland one day. I promise: it'll be unforgettable!

Don't Phone & Drive!

2008-05-23T21:41:00.002-04:00

I guess it wasn't my time - thank God. Driving to the theatre for rehearsal a couple of weeks ago, I sat at a red light awaiting the flashing green. I got my green light but I also almost got hit by a driver, totally oblivious to his red light, blithely talking on a cell, looking for all the world like he was having a very enjoyable conversation and totally, totally unaware he'd run a red.

For God's sake people, no phone call is worth someone's life. Shut down your cell and save a life. It might be your own, your family's or someone else's family. No conversation is worth it.

Sick old girl

2008-05-19T18:55:00.004-04:00

Dolly's been listless, not herself. I notice a minute spec of blood on the floor. In her litterbox, more. The vet is kind but says old girls of 20 like our Dolly quite often suffer from renal failure. The tissues gets thin. They're more susceptible to problems. She tells me Dolly's lost 1.5lbs since her last visit. I don't need to be told. You can easily see how thin she is, feel how thin she is. Doc prescribes an antibiotic: "If it gets better, come back for another prescription."

We give it a go. It's Hell. Dolly's feels attacked as we corner her, cries weakly as we gently pry open her mouth and drop in the meds. We notice it reduces her appetite. We notice it illiminates her appetite. We notice it makes her withdraw from us. No petting. No lapsitting. Not even the too early wake-up calls. When I hold her, it's like holding a skeleton wrapped in fur. We watch her fade away in front of our eyes. She is dying.

Soon the bottle is empty. We pick up another prescription but decide to give her a day or two off. Almost immediately, Dolly's appetite is back and with a vengeance. No more blood in her urine. Things are improving. But the new bottle is yet to be administered.

Woe is me

2008-05-19T17:51:00.002-04:00

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's my personal electro-magnetism. Maybe it's my brain. I don't know what the Hell it is but I'm have an out and out angry day. I don't have 'em very often - thank Heavens - but today it was full bore. I'm angry that the @#$%&**#!! computer crashes just as I finish a sensitive, well-thought out note. I'm angry that the PC can't keep up with my typing: I look up and I'm two-thirds into a paragraph and the darn things is stalled on my second word! I'm angry that the vacuum cleaner brush attachment won't work all of a sudden just because I'm at the end of the wand. I'm mad as Hell that my MP3 player won't play to alleviate my anger while I vacuum. I'm pissed off that the @#$%&*(!! cell phone is always dead when I pick it up or goes dead while I'm using it [my husband never has this problem]! The only electrical things that appear to work well for me are the TV and the lightswitch! And watches. Let me tell you about watches.

As a kid, I loved Eva's watch. Eva was my mother's best friend and she wore a very elegant black and white watch with an extremely large face. She was always way ahead of her time when it came to fashion. After she died, I inherited the watch. I had it inspected, cleaned and wound (this watch was made before batteries). I wore the watch. It never worked on me. Reluctantly, I gave it to my younger sister. It worked perfectly on her and continues to do so. I continue to covet it as I did all my younger years but know now that watch is just not for me.

While visiting my younger sister, we commented on the watch story and she offered me Mom's watch. Mom had passed on several years ago. My sister likely thought this would make a nice replacement to the watch I had given her. Well, here we go again. The watch won't work on me. Now I haven't completely given up. Maybe the battery is simply dead. I'm going to give that a go then hold my breath.

But I do believe there is something to personal magnetism or some such. I've had a terrible history with computers and it still surprises me that they work for me at all. I've found when I'm under pressure, angry, upset or on fast forward, they do everything they can to stall me...to the point I want to throw them out the nearest window. I'm a super-user yet I can really get a computer to dig in its heels so to speak. I've gotten in the habit of taking my hand off the mouse the second I give it a command - that seems to work even though it sounds really crazy. But, of course, it doesn't work for the keyboard. Guess I'll have to check into one that takes voice commands. For more on personal magnetism, check this article out.

No Dogs, Please!

2008-04-22T21:16:00.003-04:00

I loved Florida. I love the warmth of the sun, the water, the beaches, the golf courses...the escape of it all. The people are ok too but it was hard to find an actual Floridian. Actually I don't think I ever did. Most were "come from aways" as Newfoundlanders fondly describe non-Newfies.

But there was one thing that perplexed me while I was there: the no dog signs that people had allowed to proliferate in one particular community. Now, I can understand people don't want dog excrement on their lawns - who does? But why in the world would you put up a painted wooden cut-out sign that in shape, size and demeanor looks exactly like a dog making a sizeable deposit? And why would you put it right on your front lawn where you and everyone else has to look at it? Every. Single. Day. These offensive signs had proliferated like mushrooms in one community we visited. Either it shows appalling bad taste or simply no taste whatsoever. Trouble is, I don't think we can blame the Floridians...this one is sticking like you know what to the "come from aways"!

April Summer Day

2008-04-19T22:32:00.003-04:00

As per usual, Canada has gone from winter-almost-spring to full-fledged summer! In the space of one day, people have shed their parkas and jumped into shorts, for cryin' out loud! Everyone has to wear sunglasses just to compensate for the brilliant white skin being exposed everywhere.

People also have this overwhelming urge to rake (ok, let's be honest...scrape) the cruddy carcas of winter off their lawns even while there's still big gobs of snow, for cryin' out loud!

The streets of Ottawa went from deserted (I know cuz I walk the streets every day except on weekends and no, I'm not a "street-walker" of that ilk!)...to over-populated in the space of a few hours, for cryin' out loud. And everybody, I mean everybody who wasn't walkin', bikin' or sitting around on the stairs of L'Esplanade Laurier eating hotdogs and/or fries, were in their cars cruisin'. For cryin' out loud! We are such a winter-overdosed population! We're so pathetic.

I'm tired. Walked old Spencer for an hour today. BTW, he looks like new Spencer. Ron and Pauline finally got him groomed. I guess the groomer finally had her baby and is back in business. In the meantime, he looks like a new dog, almost puppy-like. I hardly recognized him. He must have lost 10 lbs of fur! But he remembered me alright. Nothing wrong with that little guy's memory!

Hubby's watched hockey all night punctuated with the odd bit of golf. Geez, I know I'm not truly Canadian because - wait for this blasphemous statement: I can't stand hockey!!!! So I retreat to cyberspace, read emails, research a little of this and that, post this and try to fend Dolly off from eating my Persian Noon bread whilst I chug a Corona! Yes, that crazy cat is trying to eat my bread. I've never seen her do that in her entire 19 years. Must be meno-paws!!!

Good night, all. Gotta try to keep my eyes open whilst I watch Juno. No, not the Canadian Juno Awards, the movie: Juno. Then off to bed with the window OPEN...who can believe it? OPEN, April 19! This craziness must have something to do with the full moon. Aaaarooooooo, werewolves of White Lake!!!!

Never Say Die, Dolly

2008-04-16T22:28:00.006-04:00

Ok...this is the real reason why my Mistress has sooo much trouble blogging!

If I really beg, she sometimes stops typing to give me a chin rub...

Yeah, that's it...yeah, right there....lower, over, over....ahhhhhh. Oops, drooling a little, heh, heh...feels so good!

Thanks! I needed that!

Cell: Hell's Bells

2008-04-16T21:27:00.002-04:00

I've been living a sheltered existence out here in the country. Birds don't walk around with cell phones; nor do dogs and cats. Retirees are pretty good at avoiding them too. We like to listen to birdsong, creeks gurgling, the wind in the trees, and the water lapping the dock. But now that I'm back downtown on a regular basis, it amazes me how many people walk around with a cell glued to their ear, some even have handy little ear lugs. Not to mention the idiots driving (or attempting to drive) with them.

But I wonder...who are they talking to? Is it business, friendship, shoring up relationships, gossiping, getting instructions to pick up a loaf of bread? How can people be so engaged? Why do they want to be so connected? I followed a woman down the street today as we were headed in the same direction and happened to be walking at the same pace. I couldn't help but overhear the entire one side of the conversation. She kept looking over her shoulder at me as though I were eavesdropping (well, I was but purely involuntarily) or as though I should pass her. She talked and walked for 2 blocks before we parted ways.

I have a cell phone but I don't give out the number. It's intended for emergencies or the odd "Why are you late?" kind of call. I don't want to be called. I don't relate to people who do. Maybe I don't have enough friends or family...now, that's a stretch...I'd hate to start counting! I wonder if it's a sign I am finally getting old-fashioned. Ironically, I was voted Miss Telephone in high school because of the amount of time I spent on the phone but times have changed. Now I relish silence. Now, I relish time to think. Now, I want to control how I spend my time because I value it so. I don't want to be a slave to a machine. Oh, excuse me....gotta go blog now!

Memère

2008-04-13T17:12:00.004-04:00

I've been thinking of Memère, my deceased mother-in-law, lately. She had little sayings that seem to have stuck with me. For example, she always said, "Never two but three." Usually in reference to people passing on. Well, it's been exactly like that lately. First we received news a former neighbour had lost his battle with cancer. Then our play's director lost his aged Dad. And like the proverbial 2nd shoe dropping, it wasn't long before we learned of the death of a friend's sister whom we'd known for years. Never two but three. All will be missed.

After Memère's sister, Cora, died, if anyone was sick but, more particularly, cut and bleeding, she told them to think or pray to C'coon - Cora's nick name. Cora, from on high, would staunch the bleeding. Well, sure enough everyone in the family would incite C'Coon's name at anything greater than a pin-prick. I think the family's attitude was "Well...it's worth a try." I hope Pierre who is recovering from heart surgery is giving Cora some thought these days so his sutures heal quickly!

Then she'd say if you cut your hair outdoors, birds would line with nests with your hair which in turn would cause you headaches. Now, not too many of us cut or have our hair cut outdoors so there's little risk...but I found it one of Memère's oddities and often wondered where that one came from. Perhaps the children got the scissors out one day and she was prompted to come up with a good one. Who knows?

Memère was amongt the last of her kind: a staunch Catholic of French Canadian descent. No birth control for her, she birthed fourteen children. It's hard to imagine but it's true: I married her 14th child. Suffering what no mother should, she endured the loss of several children, losing one to a childhood disease, another to a car accident, another to cancer, and the loss of her husband when she still had children to see through to adulthood. She managed by sheer determination, strong faith, an incredible work ethic, and the help of her many children. She could bake bread unlike any other. Everything she cooked was cooked with love and loved for its marvelous flavour. She loved cards and gambling, even travelling once to the gambling mecca of the world - Vegas! She had a ball.

There are now 7 adult children left, only half of her nest. All good people, they've passed Memère's values on to their own children. And her voice echoes still when we hear her favourite sayings oft repeated.

Spring is definitely here!

2008-04-06T19:54:00.005-04:00

Spring announces itself in so many ways. The birds at the feeders are usually chickadees, bluejays and the ubiquitous woodpecker swaying on the suet feeder. Suddenly, hordes of grackles appear. Robins flit about as do some other as yet unidentifiables. Crows are seen flying overhead, even seagulls. Then we see the Canada geese on the fly yet again even though the fields are full of snow and the ice is still on the water, be it river or lake.

Dolly-cat, as I've said, is struggling mightily with her "spring fever" - sudden spurts of energy drive her pounding, bounding down our long hallway (she sounds like a mini-pony race); she swerves and verves along the edge of the patio door, the verticals flying out of her way! Incredible action and speed for a geriatric cat! It's really a miracle. If you could see her getting off her chair every day in slow motion, you'd think she was half-way dead. But no, there's lots of spice in the old girl yet!

I leave the patio door open for her; it's so sunny and warm. Where can she go? And as we all know: rules are rules and no one is supposed to leave their cat on the loose! Heaven forbid!

The stone deck is still surrounded by snow as is the hot tub. But she finds a way, making herself thin and crying a little in complaint as she brushes in between the squeeze-space twixt snow bank and hot tub. Where in the world is she going? I drop down to see...the snow has melted a foot of yellowed grass along the south side of the house and she's headed for her favourite spot: the cat nip plant.

She pauses along the way, to look or maybe sniff at the purple crocuses which are already in bloom. But alas, the cat nip is barely breaking through the ground. She sniffs the budding plant longingly, then returns - reluctantly - at my call. Yes, spring is definitely here.

Sunning deer

2008-04-04T22:42:00.003-04:00

To help pass the time during our daily hour-long commute, I look for deer. There's a place just outside the city where the highway threads its way through a limestone rock cut. A railroad cuts under the road and wraps its way around the outer perimeter of the National Equestrian Centre. In the large open fields fringed with sparse woods are snow-covered jumps for the horses who'll be challenged by them once the snow melts.

Often, I'll see deer, one, sometimes two, standing on the railway tracks. Nose to nose, they look like they're conversing. More often, I watch for, in the weak spring sunshine, a deer, her legs folded under her, sitting in utter stillness on a large plate of limestone, watching the traffic go by and enjoying the little warmth the sun is starting to provide. All God's critters, including us, like their creature comforts. She watches us, but I wonder how many people notice her up there.

The other day she was nibbling on some sumacs at the base of her "seat". Again, I almost missed her, she blends in so well. Her coat is the colour of the wet limestone and is very thick. It's amazing that thousands of car are zooming by, oblivious to this little bit of nature 20 feet from the road who has the potential to be a danger to us, and of course, us to her.

Exercise is where you find it!

2008-03-31T22:46:00.003-04:00

With the spring thaw, I've resolved to walk every day to compensate for the lack of dog walking to which I've grown accustomed. Today, downtown, was an icy, slush mess. Plus it was raining! Where to go?

Around the corner I find Place Bell, an office tower where lawyer types hang out [the court house is right across the street]. Sure enough as I enter, a lawyer with his funny robes and a coat over his arm is running in right behind me. License plates on nearby streets, start with LLB.

I decide Place Bell is large enough for me to walk around it indoors; I'll do the shopping concourse but keep my eyes straight ahead so as not to ruin the walk with looking at any window candy. I do two tours then realize there's a downstairs. Down the escalator I go only to find in one of the basement hallways, a very lively aerobic exercise class going on. I wonder if it's restricted to building workers. On my way back upstairs, I realize I can get a really good workout (à la Biggest Loser) by walking up the down escalator! I check for cameras, then hop to it. Yes, my dears: it is an aerobic workout. I step off periodically as ladies are coming down the escalator with yoga mats under their arms. I chat up one who tells me Marj welcomes anyone in the vicinity to her exercise classes around the corner and down the hall.

I go see Marj. True enough: $30 buys you a month of daily exercise or 3 months for $75 - what a deal! There are washrooms around the corner to change in and showers down the hall! Whooo! I take Marj's handout thinking I really should indulge - after all exercise deals like this one don't come by very often!

But on the walk back to the office, I rationalize. It's almost April. May is even better weather-wise and June even better. Why exercise in a basement hallway when the outdoors is calling your name? I decide to decline but if I'm working in this area come late fall or winter: Marj, I'll be there for you!

In your heart, time stands still

2008-03-30T20:46:00.004-04:00

Officially, our wedding anniversary is tomorrow Mar. 31. That's how close we came to being April Fools 38 years ago! We celebrated with friends and a nice dinner tonight because of other commitments tomorrow.

It's almost unreal that we've been married for so long. I still feel 18, let alone feel married for 38 years! Umm, a 20 year time warp. But it's true. My man and I are still joined at the hip, still enjoying each other's company. He still spooks me when he articulates the thought I'm about to utter. He tells my own stories better than I do. He makes me laugh. He still makes my heart beat faster with a look from those dark eyes, and I love how he looks in jeans!

So, do I have a secret for a long, strong marriage? Maybe. Keep kissing, hello, goodbye, goodnight and for any old reason or none at all. Keep talking and listening. It doesn't matter if it's important or mundane - just keep at it. Share your thoughts, worries, yourself. Keep touching, keep spooning. Don't forget to...caress his bald spot, hold his hand, fondle his earlobe, stroke a cheek, embrace him with all your might. When you think you know his body as well as your own, think again. There's always more to learn. Respect and honour him - he's your life mate, your children's father. Keep your loud voice to a minimum; it helps with the respect. Don't laugh in the wrong places. Live together as fully as you can. Always be honest.

We celebrate differently and it amuses us. I say, "I have no card but I have this for you," and hand him a T-shirt that reads: "Gimmie my Timmies and no one gets hurt!" It's a joke between us how much he loves his Tim Horton coffee which I myself can't stand. He says, "I have no gift but I have this card for you," as he hands me this, his choice, from Carlton Cards:

For my wife:

Many anniversaries from now when we have been together for a very long time,

I wonder what it will be like...

Will we share extra blankets to keep warm?

Count the stars from our front porch rockers?

Dream older, wiser dreams, or be contented with the memories we've made?

Of course, I can't predict the future, but I'll tell you what I do know --

I'll still need to hold you close.

If we sit in our rockers, mine will be right next to yours.

And no matter how old or wise we become, I'll still want the feel of your gentle hand in mine...

I guess what I'm trying to say is,

I look forward to whatever the future may hold --

as long as my future holds you.

Wuss of a puss

2008-03-27T22:46:00.001-04:00

Spring did arrive on time, March 21. How do I know for sure? Easy: Dolly, our cat, started that very day, caterwauling to be let out. Somehow, exactly on cue, Dolly intuited or her wild cat instincts kicked in: she knew it was Spring, and she knew she’s gotta get out!!! If she were wild, she’d be gonzo!

But she’s not wild; she’s domesticated, poor little girl. And even when we open the door, she sniffs disdainfully as if to say “I only wanted to check the weather, silly. It’s still far too cold!” and turns her back on the sunshine. She knows she can soak up all the rays she needs in a sunbeamed hot spot in the bedroom without the frigid air. Her actual exit will have to await a far warmer day. Yes, she’s a wuss of a puss!

The Littlest Bed-maker

2008-03-26T18:55:00.000-04:00

Dolly, the cat, used to be wonderful bed maker. Ok, not exactly a bed maker but a bed-maker’s helper. As soon as the sheets were being pulled, it was part of her routine to jump right in there, try to stay on the bed despite the sheets disappearing and to supervise the arrangement of the incoming sheets. This meant occupying the very centre of the bed in a proud lionesque pose as if to say “This is my turf – I ain’t moving!”

Of course, we would put on the sheets, corners and all and a very visible bump in the middle would start to cry pitifully. “Let me out; I can’t get out!” We’d pull the sheet up high enough for the “bump” to escape. And it would start again. She’d stake out the centre of the bed, while the top sheet was shaken out and allowed to fall around her like a collapsing parachute. We’d tuck it in, only to have the pitiful occupant sealed underneath plead again for help to escape. If you tried to push her off the bed prior to being sealed in, it was just no go. She was the mid-bed owner and that was that!

On it would go, with the layering of the duvet and coverlet. We couldn’t help but laugh at her and ourselves for indulging her. This was the routine for years. But over time, like any of us who gradually lose interest in a past-time that used to spellbind us, Dolly lost interest in helping to make the bed. We miss her “help”.

Lollygagging

2008-03-24T17:22:00.001-04:00

Now that I’m working again, I don’t have time to walk Spencer daily but trust his master, Ron, will get him walking out to the mailbox and back. When my hubby and I pick him up tonight, the sun is settling in the West and Spencer is dragging along behind us. Definitely not in walk mode – most unusual! Normally, he almost pulls me along because he’s use to the faster pace of my being on skis. But today, you can almost see his spirit is down. He’s lollygagging along, not skipping along the tops of the snow banks as is his habit lately.

I run a bit and try to entice him with his favourite treats. Finally, as I release him to run in the summer park, he perks up a bit. But he’s still lollygagging. Then! He remembers a favourite scent spot along a line of cedars, and the energy level is right back up there! He levitates to the top of the snowbank and flies! He sniffs, rolls and cavorts with everything he has. Spencer is back!

We cut into a trail of footprints left in the crusty snow by someone daring enough to come check on the state of their summer trailer. Spencer skims over the snow; he’s light enough not to break the crust. We’re not as lucky. But Lady Luck does show herself when we find a crusty snowshoe trail to follow which leads us back to the main road without our sinking up to our knees.

Back home, we find out the problem: thirst. I guess the poor little guy hadn’t had his fill before we left and he was plain and simply thirsty! Lesson learned!

FREE Weight Loss Program!

2008-03-22T15:10:00.007-04:00

Just say "no" to: ...well, you know exactly what you should "no" to... it's all those things you usually say "yes" to...chips, pie, cookies, big ole hamburgers, fried anything, pop...the list goes on and on and you know it by heart. SAY "NO THANK YOU" TO WHAT YOU KNOW CONTRIBUTES TO YOUR LOVE HANDLES! In my case, it's sweet things.

Just say "yes" to all those things you usually say "no" to...vegetables, salad, fruit, fish, chicken, anything on the lower GI list. Shop the outer perimeter of the grocery store. EAT FRESH, NOT PROCESSED!

Exercise! Walk the dog, walk yourself, take the stairs, bike, sign up for any kind of class or sport that gets you moving! GET MOVING! You'll enjoy it, and your body will love you for it.

Forget the pound or kilogram! If you must measure, then check progress by your waist measurement. Ladies: get your waist under 35 inches! Men, under 40 inches! USE THE TAPE MEASURE, NOT THE SCALE!

Remember the rule of opposites: if you say you're on a diet, you and people around you tend to try to feed you more! So don't say you're on a diet, just LIVE AND EAT AS THOUGH YOUR THINNER, HEALTHIER SELF DEPENDS ON IT...because it does!

Serve or order smaller portions. Look at your usual plate and half it! At a restaurant, take half home in a doggy bag. At home, use a smaller plate with no refills. It's that easy and is a way to say yes to your progress! EAT SMALL - BE SMALL!

Be aware of your posture. This may seem funny but if you stand or sit "tall", you'll work those stabilizing muscles. Hold in that tummy (it's exercise!). Improved posture = improved "look". STAND TALL!

While it's laudable to have a goal, what typically happens after reaching a goal is a celebration. Celebrations lead to falling off the wagon. This may go against everything you've been taught but why set a specific goal? Or else, let your goal be simply a new attitude. Now, celebrate your NEW ATTITUDE with something non-food related when and as you need it! A new piece of smaller-sized clothing, a piece of jewellry or art, a contribution to a wonderful charity, a call to a friend. LET YOUR MIRROR BE YOUR REWARD (not your punishment)!

Work on your self-esteem, not your weight. Treat yourself: a new hair cut, a new colour (for hair or wardrobe), a mani-pedicure, a new friend, a new spiritual experience, a new world. Focus on something beyond yourself. Throw out your cigarettes. CHANGE YOUR OBSESSION! and learn to accept compliments and attention because they're coming your way.

STAY ON THE 1-9 PATH. Never stop, never give up. This is your mantra: This is how I live now...not just for today or this week or this month or this year. This is my life, my journey, and I only pass this way but once. This is the rest of my long and beautiful life! I want to be the best I can be!

You'll be amazed at your own results, the change in you and your life, and the people around you. I know you can do it. Start now!

More Signs of Spring

2008-03-22T14:59:00.005-04:00

As I sit in my sunny nook, Spring announces itself in the window…lady bugs – about 10 of them! – are ambulating hither and yon on the interior glass of my window. They’ve awaken from Heaven knows what little hidey-hole, and in the heat of the wonderful spring-warm sun, are cavorting on my window looking to escape. Some unfold their wings and fly-hop here and there, practicing for release.
It’s very Zen-like watching them walk about with no discernible path or destination. They don’t hurry, they amble and never in a straight line. They don’t collide.

Of course, here comes my moral dilemma: release, leave alone or…kill? If I kill them, I’ll feel bad and they’ll be dead. If I release them outdoors, they’ll die in the snow and cold, for despite the sun, it still is pretty much winter here. If I keep them, will I be inundated with a plague of lady-bugs?

Plus, I don’t know if they bite. When I was growing up, ladybugs were lady-like and did not bite. But since then, good old Canada has been inundated with a type of very UN-lady-like bugs who definitely bite!

Remember your childhood chant?

Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home.
Your house is on fire and
Your children are alone!

What about mine?
Ladybug, ladybug, from where did you come?
My house ain’t your house so
Go back where you’re from!

Any solutions gratefully received!

Photo thanks to Jordan McClements, Portaferry County Down, Northern Ireland!

Happy Easter 08!

2008-03-22T14:13:00.000-04:00

I am sorely falling behind in my commitment to blog daily. A couple of barriers: I've take a job so time is of the essence, and my service provider's service has been "tetchy" to say the least.

The job: am now working for the Canadian Association for Independent Living, a non-profit organization which seeks to provide the ways and means for disabled people to fully participate in life. They're a national organization serving as the hub for a series of 28 independent living resource centres across Canada. Be sure to visit their CAILC site and learn more!

We were happily surprised yesterday when Jan and the twins dropped in on their way to visit Jan's sister in Ottawa! The boys are taller than ever with feet the size of snowshoes! Unfortunately, Jesse had to work so he wasn't with them. We had a lovely visit and learned that Jan will be taking the boys to Cuba next year!

We dined with Lyn and Paul then while the guys reclined, Lyn and I got her laptop connected to her service provider so she could retrieve her email. We ended up consulting some teckies in Delhi who are wonderfully helpful once you get past their accented English and the phone line cutting in and out. E-mail will likely become Paul's job and I can envisage him sitting at the kitchen table, emailing the world and laughing maniacally at the all the jokes his extended family (most notably Jack and Sybil) will be sending. Welcome to the e-world, Lyn and Paul!

Hi Ho Hi Ho

2008-03-16T21:56:00.000-04:00

It's off to work I go. Yes, am biting the bullet and returning to ye olde worke force tomorrow morning. No telling how this will affect my intent to blog daily. Time (available time, that is) will tell.

Getting up in the dark will be an effort, I admit. But that will be offset by travelling with my dear hubby every day instead of lying in bed worrying about him on his hour-long commute to town.

Starting a new job is like a mystery tour. What will it be like? Will I succeed at my work? Will I get along with my co-workers? Will it be rewarding or fun or just plain hard work? Tomorrow I'll know some of the answers or at least have an inkling. Stay tuned.

Today, the sun gave us a glimpse of spring as snowbanks sagged and icicles dripped. A friend says the sap is already running in the maples. He knows this for sure as his buddy had him out tapping what trees they could in thigh-deep snow. Good old dog, Spencer, noticed too as the roads are slushy interspersed with puddles and gobs of mud. He's so fastidious about where he puts his paws he has trouble deciding where to walk. So, yes, Virginia, Spring is real and is on her way.

Who the heck is Suzi May Blackfly?

2008-03-15T20:57:00.001-04:00

I grew up in a very tiny closed Northern Ontario community "Abibiti Canyon" whose people served Johnny Hydro (aka Ontario Hydro). It was a horse-shoe shaped town which, at the time I lived there, comprised approximately 100 families and a few single men housed in the staff house. Thanks to the muddy brown Abitibi River coursing through the dam, our product was electricity. Our role? Feed that electricity to Ontario, and anyone else willing to buy it, e.g., the States.

Before a road was built connecting us to the real world, we were connected by rail -- a spur line at Fraserdale abutting the main line of the Ontario Northland Railway, also known as the (misleading) Polar Bear Express, that connected Cochrane to Moosonee on the shores of James Bay. In other words, we were smack-dab in the middle of northern scrub bush, on top of our portion of the pre-Cambrian Shield. Yup, we're as Canadian as moose.

My dad was an operator at the dam; my mom a stay-at-home, keep-it-all-together-at-any-cost woman supporting her man and her family. My family were 6 other siblings, 3 boys, 3 girls and a numerous assortment of animals, domestic and/or wild depending on my brothers' adventures: dogs, cats, crows, flying squirrels, snakes, crayfish and even, yes, even a baby bear. But that's a story for another time.

I was only 4 or 5 and there was no kindergarten at that time, so I occupied myself then as children do, outside the kitchen door, in a sandbox where mom could keep an eye on me. My biggest problem in life was thinking up a response to Mr. Vern Riddell who sauntered by me daily, swinging his lunchpail, greeting me with a big smile and a "How are ya today, Suzi May Blackfly?" It drove me nuts. First of all, my name is not Suzi May Blackfly, and second, I didn't have the ingenuity or vocabulary to give him the verbal blast I so ardently wished. I was a very frustrated kid. At that age, you're pretty much limited to calling someone a boogey-man or some such inadequate insult that certainly didn't do justice to what Mr. Riddell was calling me!

In hindsight, I view little old Suzi May Blackfly with great affection. She's a little piece of the "Canyon" who still occupies my being. I think of her and I think of the Wade Hemsworth's Black Fly song which Miss Glendinning taught us in public school. I think of the black fly hats mom made me wear which consisted of making two knots in either corner of dad's handkerchief, slipping it on my head and tying the other two ends under my chin. The blackflies made a feast of any exposed skin!

I'm still gullible, easily non-plussed and never have the right vocabulary at hand when I most need it. Hence the change to my blog name...I'm reverting to type. Or maybe it's simply regression.

Daytona, Florida: Pix 2

2008-03-14T14:37:00.000-04:00

Some abstract shots...balcony, plant, wall mural at the Peabody (like our NAC).

View from our balcony: the strand and the strip...

Octopussy...and Den doing his Forrest Gump imitation:

The Bubba Gump Shrimp Co Restaurant is a must-go!

T-shirts targetted to bikers...(try not to be shocked).

Moko Saves the Day

2008-03-14T14:26:00.000-04:00

No doubt you read, heard or saw the video about Moko, a little dolphin who helped saved 2 stranded pygmy whales down in New Zealand yesterday. If not, check out the details at Stuff !

What I found interesting was a CBC radio listener who called in to explain the dolphin's behaviour: "Do you want know why she helped the whales? Well, the two whales were male and as everyone knows, males won't ask for directions so she showed them the way!"

Winter Weenie Roast

2008-03-13T12:24:00.000-04:00

Not to be outdone by our neighbours enjoying southern climes, we got together for a weenie roast and street slide party. Yes, it was cold as Hell, fun as Hell and the beer never got hot!

Who's got the lighter?

Lyn: I've got a camera!

Ready, steady, go!

Every race needs a flagman.

Pierre doing the up-ended turtle.

Sports-fan, for sure!

Van's behind.

Den thought it was a luau.

The whole gang....

Man, those hotdogs were great!

From golf to Omigod!

2008-03-12T21:36:00.000-04:00

We've come home to this! Let the clean-up begin!

Neighbour Bob's place...

We start the clean-up...thank Heaven for neighbours!

I can't even see my kitchen window!

Where to begin?

Dolly says: "There's a hot tub here somewhere..."

All done! But...where's our newspaper?

Bike Week 2008 Pix

2008-03-11T16:31:00.001-04:00

Main Street...up...and...down

The Flight Down

2008-03-11T16:19:00.000-04:00

I envy pilots their cockpit view. No doubt they're busy with screens, controls and navigational systems but surely they take in the view piloting gifts them.

We're flying at 39,804 feet, going 465 mph. I like measurements understandable to me (not metric).

Out of my foolscap-sized window, I view the topography of clouds. Their variety amazes; there are rifts and swirls and hills and valleys. It is the land of fluff, bubbled, wavy. Wave-tips catch the rays of the descending sun. Off the horizon, a silver dart, another plane like us, heads opposite: north. We fly over a disintegrating contrail, leaving our own mark.

Predominately white and gray-blue, the clouds are wispy horse-tails as the little map on the back of the seat fronting me indicates we're sliding over Pennsylvania.

I like this ethereal realm where the insubstantial looks substantial, where the colours calm, and the horizon is clear and unsullied.