The Leader's Debates. Some Brief Observations

I saw part of the French language debate on the CBC website. There was simultaneous translation. In my opinion Mr.Dion did very well, as did Ms. May, although her French is basic and Mr. Duceppe also made good points.

No doubt there was a bigger audience for the English language debate last night. I watched the whole thing and I thought the format was a big improvement over the lectern style used in previous years. Sometimes, though, the moderator should have been more stern with the participants.

Most people, I think, were surprised by how well Ms. May did. She stuck to the facts and kept presenting them, though she did take a dig at Mr. Harper, referring to him as a fraud. Mr. Dion was more low-key but came across as sincere, particularly when I spoke about 'my Canada' you could see that he means what he says and is passionate about it in a typically modest Canadian fashion. Also, I had no problem understanding his English and am beginning to resent all the attacks on it that people, particularly on the CBC website, make. Mr. Layton specialized in interrupting others, and I didn't think that was a good idea. His best line was the sweater remark. He certainly let us know that corporations would be taxed more and average people would be taxed less. Mr. Duceppe was at his best, engaging and straight-forward, too bad he's for Quebec sovereignty.

What can I say about Mr. Harper? He tried to act in a rather presidential manner, calm and patronizing. He didn't present a platform, and still has not done so. He prefers to attack others, and to tell us that everything is fine and dandy in the rose garden. There is something going on behind that facade of a face. He never looked anyone directly in the eye and his expression was a strange, closed grin. I thought he came across as entirely without passion, or compassion. Furthermore, underneath that eerie calmness, I suspect he is a very angry man who resents having to put up with the democratic process.

So, there you have it. One Canadian's opinion.

Haper Gives Me a Headache

To reverse Harper's attack ad aimed at Dion, one might ask, what kind of leader is Harper? Autocratic is the answer He keeps his troops well-muzzled and would like to do the same thing to the arts community. His attack on the arts and artists, was ably countered by Margaret Atwood and I think also that les Quebecois are less than pleased. But, of course, people in the arts are all feeding from the public trough and should keep quiet.

Harper is also the only party leader who has refused to respond to Make Poverty History. Probably because he's sure that a lot of the poor won't vote, so it doesn't matter.

Then there's the -- our economy is fine, oops, wait a minute, nope, we are in trouble and only I can save us. Actually, the only thing that might save us is to take a completely new approach, bite the bullet and move toward a green economy.

That's enough about politics so I'll move on to more enjoyable things.

The Word on the Street event took place yesterday and we had sunshine. There were not as many booths as in previous years and NONE of the political parties were there. I wanted to contribute to the save Al Purdy's house fund, but couldn't take advantage of the - contribute $25.00 and get a free book deal. I do have the address though and can send a smaller donation.

Purdy was an excellent, and accessible Canadian poet. The house was due to be sold because his widow couldn't maintain it. She proposed turning it into a writer's retreat if enough money can be raised. For more information see
www.savealshouse.wordpress.com/

I was happy to find Brucedale press was at Word on the Street again, they publish writers who live in the Bruce Peninsula area. New this year, The Book Band which represents four or five small press publishers in the part of Ontario.

Fret Nots

I looked up the meaning of fret in my Canadian Oxford Dictionary and was pleased to discover that the fifth meaning applies to water - move in agitation or flow or rise in little waves. I like that and might use it in my fiction. But, at the moment, I'm working on not fretting, which the COD also describes as intermittent whimpering. I'd rather growl, or provoke laughter than whimper.

My adventures with Human Resources Development Canada and with Canada Post could make a good comedy sketch starring yours truly. I'm now a woman of reduced means, as they said in Victorian times, and I reapplied for the Guaranteed Income Supplement based on the severe drop in my 2008 income. An obliging HRDC staff person filled out the form. I did not understand the arcane formula used to decide what goes on the form but I signed it because it appeared to be correct. The form was sent to the HRDC gods in Chatham Ontario. After an ice age passed, they replied. They said no, but provided an avenue for appeal. I sent a registered letter stating relevant details to HRDC. Nothing happened. After a six week wait, I called HRDC and they informed me that no letter had arrived. I called Canada Post. They told me the letter went out on August 7th, and we don't know what happened to it after that. In three months, we might know, but until then - no luck for you. So, yesterday, I called HRDC again and they told me to go to the local office and resend the information. It took a mere two hours to get it done, again. After that experience, I feel that the $12..00 registered letter fee would have been better spent on some frivolous thing, like a four slice pizza. I also feel like a Monty Python character, perhaps the one in the dead parrot sketch. But I will not fret, that would be unbecoming for a person of my lowly status. Instead, I'm practicing my growl, in case I have do go through this for the third time.

I'm not going to fret much about the stock markets going haywire either. We are all involved in the U.S. economic mess because our government puts some of our money in the market and the Bank of Canada is helping prop up the perpetrators. I think I'll emulate Alfred E. Neuman "What, me Worry?" Nope, not me. I'll do what the rest of the low-income people do and squander my money on necessities and three lottery tickets a week instead of one, thereby vastly increasing my odds from one in a billion to perhaps one-and-a-half in a billion. We who inhabit the low income zone are a feckless lot and frequently give in to our need for possible immediate gratification.

I'm also not going to whimper about the fact that my daughter will turn 44 on Monday. I'll save my sniveling for when she turns 45 - then she'll be what people refer to as middle-aged and we can get together and grumble about it.

It's time to shop for a birthday card and a present for N. Something frivolous, of course.

They're Off and Running - I am too.

The Canadian election campaign has officially started. Of course, it started ages ago, but never mind. All the horses are out of the gate and on the track now. We will likely see all the major party leaders visit this part of Ontario more than once. I note that Smilin' Jack has Calgary as his first stop. That should be tons of fun.

I hope the coverage of the campaign will be fair to all the parties, well, I can hope, And, I hope that the Liberals keep to the high road and don't fulfill Harper's predictions.

This week, I have a lot of different chores and appointments jammed into a few days, so I'll be running too.

Pass the Hot Potatoes

Here an election, there an election, and in both places - there are hot potatoes. Canadians can look forward to, or dread, an election on October 14. That's not a surprise because the Conservatives have been campaigning madly for weeks, or is that months? I think the two hot potatoes are the environment and the economy. Harper, he of the rigid hair and attitude, will focus on the economy and will denigrate the Liberal's plans for the environment. It appears that Dion will continue to present the Green Shift as his major platform plank. I hope he can manage to convince voters of its validity and its sanity. If our environment becomes more and more toxic, the effects will be far worse than a dip in the national economy.

It could be argued that calling an election now is illegal, but it's unlikely that there will be much focus on that particular issue. The PM says that Parliament was not working, meanwhile his party generated a booklet that was all about how to obstruct the business of the house and stall committee work.

There is also the money-in money-out scandal and the Chuck Cadman problem.Of course, the Conservatives will do their best to ignore all this. They will likely to continue to refer to Dion as ineffective and to Harper as a 'strong leader'.

I believe we should be wary of that 'strong leader' rhetoric. Even Harper's method of increasing funding for the Armed Forces could be criticized, if Dion wanted to. Dion's partner/wife, Janine Krieber, is an renowned expert in anti-terrorism who teaches at RMC. She believes that Canada's military can do its best when thoroughly and expertly trained and prepared etc. Might - in other words - is not the definitive answer to terrorism. History proves that's true, but, alas history has been ignored by Harper, who prefers to theorize on the virtues of unrestrained capitalism.

Meanwhile, south of the border, there are also hot potatoes. The Republican presidential candidate has chosen a woman to run as the VP candidate. She is much younger than McCain and has far less experience. That could be a problem, but the bigger problem, which no one is addressing, is her belief system. One important example: abstinence is the only sex education that should be funded and taught. How unrealistic! As a mother, I sympathize with her and with her teenage daughter who is now pregnant. But, I am also concerned for the young man who is the father of the child. Yes, he should admit responsibility and do his best to provide for the child, but must he marry her? It would tidy up the situation, but what does he want to do? I suspect we'll never know. As a side note to all this, the rate of teenage pregnancies in the U.S., which had slowly fallen for several years, has now risen again. Does abstinence only sex-education have anything to do with this? I think it may. We are all fallible, and promises made in good faith are sometimes broken.

Mrs. Palin took on the 'old boys club' in Alaska, but now, she wants to become a member of the most powerful old boys club in the world. Irony abounds.

Defeat the Conservatives Before They Ruin Canada

The political junk mail from the Conservative party which arrives in my mail box on a daily basis has thoroughly pissed me off. I was already angry with Harper and his minions, but now the pot is really bubbling. Therefore I created a facebook group - Defeat the Conservatives Before They Ruin Canada. Maybe I'm returning to my radical, shit-disturbing roots. We'll see what happens. I know I will post a manifesto on the page. I know I'll ask friends to join the group. I'm not sure what else I'll do - yet, but I will take other actions.

In family news, my son-in-law's mother passed over to a better world. She was a very loving person and her children adored her. On a brighter note, I'm happy that I've been able to get some writing done, send a story out and postpone cleaning my apartment. And now, back to work.

I'll Always Remember The First Time

I'll always remember the first time my grandsons attended a major live outdoor rock concert (without an adult family member), and I rather think they will too. The concert took place in Downsview Park on Friday afternoon and evening. On Saturday night there was a major propane explosion just south of the area.

The drive to Toronto took well over two hours, though there were no closed lanes, the problem was simply volume of traffic. Of course, the boys were anxious to arrive. Nancy dropped them off at the park entrance and, according to Frankie, they had to stand in line for two and a half hours before they could get admitted to the concert area. They had tickets - they also had sealed bottles of water and sealed snacks, and cell phones. The water and the snacks were confiscated and thrown on the ground. Frank said he saw hundreds of water bottles in the pile. Does the fact that the event was sponsored by a certain Energy Drink have anything to do with that? I suspect it does.

The boys had a great time. Frank was able to get into the mosh pit and he has the bruises to prove it. He almost caught a thrown drum stick too, but when he dived for it, it turned out to be a straw.

While the boys were in the midst of the throng of thousands, Nancy was cruising the Yorkdale Shopping Centre and I was at the Taste of The Danforth event. I met a friend there and we had a leisurely lunch and then checked out the street vendors. I took the subway back to Yorkdale and went on a search for a pay phone. It's harder than you might think to find one. There was a whole bank of them near the entrance and none were in service. I finally found one that worked and called Nancy on her cell phone. She was sitting in the car and described her location. It's a good thing she got out of the car and waved her arms, or I would never have spotted her.

We had dinner at the mall and checked on the boys again via cell phone. Then it was time to move the car to the Downsview subway station parking lot and wait. We could hear the thump of the band and I can vividly imagine how loud it was in the park. The boys had to walk from the park to the subway and they finally made it to the car just a little after midnight.

Frank told us that lots of people had weed and alcohol. I guess the security guards were not all that efficient. He also told us that the whole thing was like, like, awesome, eh, especially when Slipknot's drummer kept playing as his drum set turned upside down.

Someday the boys will be singing "wasn't that a time."

The Naked Writer, The Form, And Earl

I have been reading, The Courage to Write by Ralph Keyes. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. The naked in my headline does not refer to a literal state of undress and although I often write in my pajamas, I haven't tried writing in the nude - yet. Instead, it refers to a writer's fear of revealing too much and suffering failure, censure or fill-in-your-worst-fear, as a consequence. The best fiction comes from peeling away the layers and getting as close as we can to the truth of the characters. Here's one quote I especially like -

"writers who hold their readers' attention are the ones who grab them by the lapel and say, 'You've got to listen to what I'm about to tell you.' It's hard to be that passionate. It means you must put your whole poke on the table."

And that, as they say - ain't easy because "the fear of revealing ourselves tends to be repressed." But, if we don't go into the dark places of the mind and soul and illuminate them, our writing will only feebly scratch at the surface.

I'm in one of those dark places at the moment, and maybe someday that will serve me in my writing, but right now I'm too pissed off to see that. In June, one of the staff at Service Canada assisted me with my application for the G.I.S. benefit. However, thanks to some sort of error, I've been judged ineligible. The income they say I'll get this year is almost twice what the true amount would be. So, I have to launch an appeal. I'll write all the information in a letter as well as filling out the parts of the form that I can decipher. Maybe that will work.

When I'm not doing the things I should be doing, I occasionally amuse myself by watching a certain reality television show. I could justify this to my friends who watch little or no television by saying I do it to learn about pop culture and the younger generation. That wouldn't be true though. I watch when I'm too whacked or too lazy to read or do anything productive. So, I've seen a couple of Canadian Idol episodes and I've become an Earl fan. He's unlikely to win because he's well, odd - and he doesn't look the part, but he's, like, totally real eh! It's likely that Mookie will win, but my heart is with big Earl, the goofy guy who's a true original.

Family Birthday Bashes and other Amusements

My youngest grandson chose to have a Harvey's hamburger for his birthday dinner. After we had dined we returned to the house for the birthday cake ritual. The lights are turned off, the birthday honoree is sent out of the room and when the candles on the cake have been lighted he returns as everyone sings Happy Birthday to him. The ice cream cake was delicious and S. who is now fourteen said more than three words, which is unusual, and allowed his grandparents to hug him. He received a new dirt bike a couple of days before his birthday because there is a BMX track near the family campsite. Grandparents, uncles and aunts, gave him cash and as I understand it he wants to buy a better MP3 player, or whatever it is that has now replaced that gadget.

I received a surprise belated birthday present in the mail (a gift certificate). It was especially heartening to receive it during the week when I had to have a mammogram and a bone scan. I really hate having a mammogram, not only because it's painful but also because of my family history. I'm glad to say that nothing abnormal was found. The bone scan revealed that one side of my neck has more than the normal amount of bone loss. There are no problems anywhere else and that's weird. Pass me the cheese, please and of course, the calcium supplement. (I'm somewhat lactose intolerant, but cheese has an enzyme in it which helps - too bad ice cream doesn't).

Friday, I went down to King St. to watch all the classic cars cruise by. I was a bit early and looked for a place to sit. There are benches along King but all of them had been staked out. However, one bench was occupied only by a large rather intimidating man who was sitting right in the middle of it. So, I asked if I could share the bench. He turned out to be extremely knowledgeable about the cars and quite chatty. Agreeable company, nostalgia and gasoline fumes. What else could a woman who grew up spending her after-school hours in the Greyhound bus garage want?

And, in other people's news, my friend Lori now has her own website. You can find it here
http://www.lorihahnel.ca/

It's great!

G 8's Policies Suck. Org

So, the fearless G 8 leaders met in Japan. They had a great honking banquet. They chastised an African despot. They ignored pleas for more aid. They asked for more oil production. And, apparently Bush called out - "Yo Harper."

Oh yeah, and they agreed that somehow carbon emissions should be cut in half by 2050. It all makes me want to scream bloody murder. And oh - Canada - how could we have elected a man who believes that the state of the economy is more important than our very lives. It isn't Dion who would screw us if we adopted some of his ideas. It's the sorry excuse for a man who currently occupies the Prime Minister's office.

Yo - Harper. Get out and talk to people. Oh, wait - minor gods don't do that. They're too afraid of what they might find out.

The Birthday Blog

It was one of those birthdays, you know the kind. The ones that mark a decade or a half-decade or, in my case, the arrival of a new status at a half-decade. I'm now officially a senior and will look forward to whatever perks go with the title. But, it's a weird feeling. On Tuesday, I was officially young, or at least not classed as old; now I'm in a new category. Perhaps the fact that my youngest grandson's voice dropped overnight and he now sounds like a man should have given me a clue, but it didn't.

When a male friend who is three months younger than me called to wish me a happy birthday and ask me how it felt to be officially old (he enjoyed saying that), I said, I didn't know yet. And that's still true today.

I spent the day itself doing whatever came to mind and ignoring my chores. I had a healthy breakfast, chocolate mousse cake for brunch and potato chips for supper. Because, well, because I felt like it. Maybe I needed a small rebellious moment. I also finished reading a mystery and fooled around on the internet.

There's birthday loot of course. I have a brand new pair of walking shoes thanks to the marvellous Viking and a framed photograph of the Port Elgin lighthouse from my daughter. Today is just a regular day so I suppose I shall have to return to the land of responsibiities. Maybe I'll do that after lunch.

Madness in the Marketplace

My brain may only be firing on one cylinder at the moment. Perhaps that's why I fail to understand the cost of things.

My friend, the Bear, had a wheelchair that was chosen for him by the occupational therapist in Toronto. The chair also had a separate air cushion that fit on the seat. The wheelchair is a piece of crap but the cushion can protect my friend's bony rear end when he sits in the dining room. Because he is not using the wheelchair (and because it is a piece of crap) I called the company that had sent it and asked them to take it back. They suggested I rent it for $200 a month and I said no. However, the cushion has a mark on it and could not be returned. So, I asked the price - $541 dollars and that, my friends, is the Adaptive Devices Program price. A special deal indeed! I sent the company a cheque, but I also told them I hoped never to buy anything else from them, ever.

Not everything is as ridiculously expensive as that cushion. I cracked my small Melita coffee pot; the kind that can sit on a stove burner and has a removable cone on top. It's a simple thing. I boiled water and poured the water over the coffee filter and waited for the elixir. When the Viking was here on the weekend he noticed the cracked pot and said he would replace it. He tried, but they don't make basic things anymore. Instead, the inveterate shopper purchased a Black & Decker 12 cup automatic coffee-maker for me. When he delivered it, I wondered where I would put it, since I have so little counter space - but I was also concerned about the price. It cost $15.00. I'm afraid to ask how they do that.

I'm also afraid to look at current gas prices, though I don't drive. The Viking's old van, affectionately known as the green pig, is a very thirsty critter and so, we are unlikely to get out of town much this summer. All energy costs are bound to go up, but we have wise advisers to help us out. David Suzuki suggests we hang our clothes out to dry the old fashioned way. Well, yes, I would love to have a clothes line in the condo's back yard, but I fear the board will not agree.

Happily, sometimes people benefit from expensive purchases made by others. The Bear had an almost new $1800 double bed with an air bladder mattress in his apartment. It was totally unsuitable for his new abode. I didn't want it and it couldn't transport it. Fortunately, the bear's neighbour who assisted me during the final pitch-out day, knew of an older lady on the same floor who needed a bed. She's delighted to have it since she was sleeping on a very old futon, on the floor. And I'm glad to end this on a up-beat note.

The Urban Archeologist Retires

Late yesterday afternoon, I handed in the keys to my friend's Toronto apartment. A neighbour of his had agreed to remove the few pieces of heavy furniture that remained. The neighbour had a small moving dolly which was helpful, because each piece had to be taken from the top floor apartment to the elevator, then carried up the stairs from the basement level to the street and then towed along the street to the garbage disposal area. The process was time consuming and grit producing, but fortunately, the neighbour didn't complain and of course I paid him for his help. The bear's fairly-new and expensive aeropaedic double bed is now stashed in the hallway but the neighbour has agreed that if one of the elderly people on the same floor does not want it (the solution I'd prefer), then he and a friend will make sure it goes to the garbage disposal area. They may sell it instead of giving it away, but if there is nothing I can do to prevent that scenario.

Locking the door of my friend's apartment for the last time was a relief, but it was also a time of sorrow because my friend, the bear, will never see the place again and because, long ago, we enjoyed many happy hours there.

Something had to be done to commemorate the end of an era and so last night, after a long hot shower, I had some chocolate and a glass of wine. Slainte!

Reflections on Myanmar/Burma, China - and Tide Free

The events of the last few days have been extraordinary or, perhaps overwhelming would be a better word choice. A major typhoon struck Myanmar/Burma and a huge earthquake devastated parts of China.

It's difficult to comprehend. The number of lives lost boggles the imagination and the amount that I can give to help out is minuscule. Though I can't avoid the thought that if everyone responded much could be done.

I recall how the whole world pitched in after the tsunami hit Asia and wonder why these disasters have not yet received the same kind of response. Much is written about compassion fatigue, but is that really what's happening? Or, is the response less because the people affected live in countries whose governments we Westerners are less than pleased with?

For example: News coverage of the Myanmar/Burma disaster makes much mention of the regime's bad policies and yes, the facts should be reported, but I notice that media reports have suddenly began referring to the country as Burma again and I wonder who started that? It will not help improve relations with the junta and may make the rulers even more intractable. Isn't getting help to the people the most important thing? Oh, silly me, of course not. If the United States was not already over committed militarily and broke, and if Bush was not a lame duck president, the Americans could decide to help 'make' Myanmar a democracy.

Then there's China. Many parts of the disaster area are only now becoming accessible and the true extent of the devastation won't be known for quite some time. It looks like the government (such as it is) is doing the best it can and China has asked for help. Parts of China are controlled by war lords and not the central government. Regulations for building construction are few and likely were not enforced; and corruption is endemic. The Chinese government has persecuted people in Tibet. All these things are true. It's also true that China wields huge economic influence, unlike Myanmar, and whatever Western government's reservations are, they will no doubt pitch in with significant amounts of material aid.

A comment on nitty-gritty personal stuff before I return to the main subject, I have nearly reached the end of cleaning out the Bear's apartment. While I had promised myself and my daughter that I would not do any major cleaning, on every visit some clean-up was unavoidable because I couldn't move a step without being covered in dirt from the floor, from the furniture, from every object in the place (especially all the papers). There was a huge supply of paper towels, some half empty bottles of Lysol spray cleaner and a very dusty can of Endust which was unusable. There were also several pairs of rubber gloves and many J cloths and sponges. However; there were no other cleaning agents and I thought I'd have to buy something, until I discovered a half empty box of Tide Free laundry soap powder in one of the kitchen cupboards, along with about 30 light bulbs and 20 tins of salmon and some other unmentionable things. So, since it was available, I decided to use it on the tile wall and the cupboards in the kitchen and in the bathroom. It removed the heavy greasy dirt and left the tiles shining. Probably it's a mix of environmentally unfriendly chemicals. Mea culpa.

I'll end this comment by returning to my concern for the people of Myanmar/ Burma and China and referring you to an excellent article in this month's Harper's magazine: Turning Away from Jesus: Gay Rights and the War for the Episcopal Church by Garret Keizer. It is connected because it is about how we see and respond to other people ; though the last words in the article are not his; they sum up my thoughts and they are the most important. "Feed my sheep."

Near the Top of the Hill, Maybe

For the first time, I think I can see the top of the hill which represents all my friend's needs and wants. I'll never be able to satisfy all his wants, but I'm close to meeting most of his current needs. That's progress. Old skills have come in handy. For example, I've hemmed five pairs of trousers this week. The results are far from professional, but they are good enough. I've coped with weird demands that don't make objective sense, but do make sense to my eccentric and sometimes confused friend. Doing so reminded me of when I ran the Adult Day Program. Sometimes it was easier to fulfill a strange request than to argue about it. It still is.

There's been little time for other things, but I managed to return my overdue library books and take out one forgettable paperback mystery novel. It was soothing to read at night because I knew the culprit would be caught and all would be resolved. Perhaps that's why many middle-aged and older people read mysteries; we crave resolution but we know that real life seldom if ever works that way.

Fearless Cave Explorer Plumbs the Depths

The excavation continues. The Viking now refers to me as his dust bunny even though he hasn't seen me wearing the after effects of a cave episode.

However; other people have. On Wednesday, after a five hour shift in the dust palace, I decided to take a short break. I washed my face and hands and walked over to Church and Wellesley. The majority of the natty male people on the street looked askance at my dusty coat and jeans, while others made sure not to stare, lest I accost them for spare change. The proprietor of Baskin Robbins was pleased to serve me ice cream in a dish, and I watched other customers as I sat on a stool and consumed my treat. I noticed that there is a cool way to order ice cream and a non-cool way. You order your scoop of ice cream in a cup, not a cone, and don't refer to it as a dish. That tip is free - you too, can be cool, or bad, or, whatever the saying is today.

When I returned to the cave, it was time to take large garbage bags to the basement garage. The Bear's cave is on the top floor of a large old apartment building and the garbage chutes on each floor have an opening barely large enough for a pair of shoes to pass through, especially if said shoes are size 13. So, I took the elevator to the basement several times with large garbage bags, which I balanced on an old bundle buggy. On my second trip to the big bins, I encountered a garbage picker. He was going through a bag I had just thrown in. I'll admit, he was very polite and said he collected things for garage sales. It was tempting to invite him upstairs, but sanity prevailed and I didn't.

By Thursday evening I had 'had the biscuit' so, after sneaking back into my hotel and enjoying an extremely long hot shower, I treated myself to a salad, a club sandwich and a Rickart's Red in the hotel bar. The food was excellent and I watched some of the Masters Golf tournament while munching. The beer was also good, but, according to the bartender, next time, I should order a half-pint for a half-pint, because I couldn't finish my pint. Meanwhile, the two industrial salesmen at the table next to me both had three drinks, while talking on cell phones, talking to each other, and texting on their Blackberries. One thing is very clear, I do not have a future in sales.

The only other tip I can offer is of the Molly Maid type. I discovered that I could use the green stuff (it used to be called Dustbane and people used it on their garage floors ) and scatter it over places where the dust is the thickest, then very carefully sweep it into a pile. Dust still rose up to choke me, but it was not quite as deadly.

I'd better go and do my own cleaning because, I think I smell dust.

The Big Move and the Urban Archeologist

On Monday, my friend the bear, moved from Toronto to Kitchener. I had hired a wheelchair van and we left Kitchener at 7 in the morning and hoped to be in Toronto by 9 or 9:30. Of course it rained and of course the traffic was horrendous. The van driver entertained me with the story of his travel to Alberta for Christmas and the many breakdowns of his motor home. It was 10:30 by the time we arrived at the hospital and just after 11:00 when we loaded the bear and his wheelchair, his walker and his suitcase into the van. We arrived at his new Kitchener living quarters at noon. I did not watch the van's speedometer while we were on the return trip. I did pray that we would not be stopped by the OPP as we sped along the 401.

It's weird to be completely in charge of another person's life and it leaves very little time for leading my own life, at least at present. I'm still winding my way through my friend's very tangled financial affairs. I wonder if the tendency to hoard things is more prevalent in men. Suggestions for things to tear up and throw out, if you haven't yet: ten-year-old paid utilities bills, Olympic lottery tickets from 1976, fifteen-year-old credit card statements, very old bank books from closed accounts, expired insurance policies, stacks of old telephone books, expired drivers licences etc And believe me, there is a hell of a lot of etc..

Other things to get rid of - stacks of very old newspapers, socks that do not match ( it seems to me I've mentioned socks before - I am still finding more of them) clothes that do not and will never fit, or be usable again. That's only a partial list of course and I will be excavating at my friend's apartment again next week. I might even find the floor soon. It's there somewhere under all the stuff; I just know it.

Meanwhile, there is hope for better things. The sun is shining, the weeds are green and my tax refund has arrived. It's not a huge refund, so I don't have to be too practical about how I spend some of it. Besides, I'm so immersed in taking care of the practicalities of my friend's life that I need to do something frivolous, though of course I'll save most of it. Perhaps I'll buy something soft and silky, or some new sheet music (if I ever get to to Music Plus), or a new CD. Before that though, I have to find disposable masks for my next trip.

This is the urban archaeologist, signing out for now.

Snow Again Must Mean Travel, Again.

The snow is blowing past my windows so fast that it obscures my view. Maybe by tomorrow it will stop and the bus to Toronto will leave on time and arrive in the big smoke on time. I had considered leaving this afternoon but I continue to wait for people to call me back. My theme song of the moment is 'someday my call will come.' No prince required, when there's a Viking nearby.

Mild Mannered Reporter Not Hornswoggled or Bamboozled.

This just in from your mild-mannered reporter on the banking front. Some folk who work in banks believe that seniors can be hornswoggled or bamboozled by the flummery of brightly coloured papers. However, this getting-older-by-the-minute scribe was not impressed by charts, tables, market predictions, or any other flim-flammery.

Did you know that you could invest money in a GIC based on bank values that is, according to the person who showed me the information, 'not based on the stock market?" What twaddle! Of course the GIC has to be based on the value of the banks' stock. and furthermore, according to the fine print, if the index declines in value you receive no return though of course your principal remains protected. How on earth does it qualify as a GIC? That could have been your intrepid reporter's question, and she will ask it as soon as she recovers.

In the meantime, she may investigate the value of sock companies' shares because there's always a market for socks in colder parts of the world.

Tales from Behind the Snow Banks

It's official, Kitchener set a new record for snow. I don't know if it also set a record for accidents, but it would not surprise me if that was the case.

One has to edge out cautiously when accessing the road whether by car, or on foot. My daughter has had accidental guests three times in the last few days because she lives very close to a dangerous intersection. I almost escaped the after-effects of the storm. However, this morning while walking to the bank, I slipped and fell on my tush thanks to some black ice. Only my ego has been damaged, as far as I can tell. I have mended the damage by consuming a chocolate Easter egg. I recommend that solution

My daughter is also the only person I know who wants more snow to fall. I'm doing my best to help her out. I have not seen the long range weather forecast yet, but since I plan to go to Toronto on Tuesday, I'd bet on more snow that day. My record is consistent. It snows every time I get on the bus. So, put your money down now. The odds are excellent.

My Friend's Financial Career and other Rambling Thoughts

One of Stephen Leacock's best known stories is My Financial Career. It's about one ordinary man's encounter with the mysteries and hazards of banking. After my experiences of the last few days, I appreciate the story even more than I did when I first heard it on CBC radio.

I am acting on behalf of a sick friend and I have all the documentation the government says is sufficient. Nevertheless, almost every one of the big five banks wanted one of their own Power of Attorney forms signed and witnessed. Fortuately, I was able to prevail, thanks to my ability to conceal anxiety and present a stern school marm face. My passport has now been in more banks than countries. Also, I have so much paper that I will have to acquire another file box or three.

Now I understand why my friend had so many uncashed cheques in his apartment. It's a wonder he didn't keep them in a sock, like Leacock's protagonist did. My friend did the next best thing though, he put his money in accounts that earn almost no interest.

I've considered writing an article about how each bank has responded, complete with ratings, but I doubt any newspaper would want to publish it, because I would have to use a nom de plume. In any event, I have no time to write it because the next fearsome task looms.

Usually, I read for a while before I go to sleep but lately I've been conking out after three pages instead of twenty or thirty pages. I'm part way through Late Nights On Air by Elizabeth Hay and for me, one of the best things about the book is all the references to CBC radio - the old announcers and the programs I listened to when I was young. I need to finish the book before it is due back at the library because a neighbour took it out on her card and lent it to me after she read it. I might stay up late tonight and finish the book, since my weekend dance card is filled and next week I return to Toronto. But, before I do, maybe I'll buy more socks.

Joyful News

Let me get right to the good stuff.

My friend, Lori Hahnel, is currently making final minor revisions to her novel, Take Me Disappearing. It has been accepted by Oberon (subject to her revisions meeting their approval as I've no doubt they will) and it will be published this fall. That's right, amazingly enough, they will publish it this year. Usually literary novels take longer than that to go to press but not this time.

I am thrilled for her and plan to celebrate her success with a fine single malt scotch whenever I can make to to the LCBO. Heck! maybe I'll even go this afternoon, because if I don't get busy and celebrate, when will I have time?

But that story is for another blog.

This one is all about Lori.

Cheers!

Sandwich, anyone?

Recently, a friend's blog gave her thoughts on being a member of the sandwich generation. Normally this saying refers to adult children who care for their aging parents and for their own children at the same time. There are different kinds of sandwiches though and I'm the middle part of one now and I will be for some time to come.

I don't have aging parents to care for - heck, I'm the aging parent, but I do have an older friend with no family and he needs all kinds of help. Meanwhile, my adult child could use some help too. The Viking doesn't require my help, he but enjoys our time together as much as I do, and now there's less time for us.

In addition to dealing with several banks and trying to sort out a financial muddle (I'd call it something else but I'm being polite here.); I am gathering information on retirement living options, looking for an acountant, and tomorrow, my bum will no doubt be warming a seat at Service Canada for hours since I must sort out a pension snafu.

This weekend, I'll be making my grandsons mind me or offering them bribes, whichever one I'm in the mood for, while their parents take a break. And next week I'll be in Toronto for four days.

The Viking said, you have an interesting life. Isn't - may you have an interesting life - a curse according to some eastern philosophy?

I'd like to settle down and put the final touches to a short story that's almost ready to go out. I'd like to, but instead I have to recheck and then add up columns of numbers and see if I can get the same result three times in a row. Not so simple when you're me and have a tendency to reverse digits.

It must be time for coffee, with a pickle on the side.

Robert Weaver Remembered

Robert Weaver nourished and championed many outstanding Canadian writers through his work with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. He also published anthologies and was responsible for the creation of the CBC literary awards. Because of Robert Weaver, the CBC was the first venue for the work of many fine Canadian writers back when the CBC believed that presenting the best work of Canadian writers would be appreciated by listeners throughout Canada. It was.

Thank you Mr. Weaver. May you romp in the Elysian fields forever.

The Weather: External and Internal

We were only supposed to get a little snow today, but Mother Nature was not listening to the weather forecast on our local CTV channel. Instead, she decided to send a January-like amount of the white stuff and blow it in every direction.

The weather suits my mood as I feel like I'm being blown about too. My Toronto visit was exhausting and most likely I'll have to pay a return visit to my sick friend very soon since I am his only close friend and he has no immediate family. When I was working, I met quite a few reclusive seniors who had little or no contact with their families and I was able empathize with them and still be professional. It's much harder when the reclusive older person is someone I know very well. He is confused and frail now and may never be able to return to his home. Of course, he is only one of many older people who are in the same dreadful predicament. His situation reminds me to be grateful for having a loving family and cherished friends, and I am.

Speaking of cherished friends, my friend Lori Hahnel has had more success. One of her short stories, Leading Men (published in Prairie Fire) has been nominated for the Journey Prize, and another of her stories has been accepted by Room of One's Own. Said story was rejected many many times before ROM chose to accept it. Lori is on a streak, and long may it continue.

Now, if I could stop thinking about my sick friend, maybe I could rewrite something.

Ten Degrees of Separation - One Thousand International Units of Frustration

Over the last few days, I've had the distinct impression that I am either a non-person, or a person who may commit a crime at any moment. I'm pretty sure I'm a person and I haven't committed any crimes, or at least none that I can recall. But at first people were distinctly unhelpful.

It all started when I became concerned because I couldn't contact a dear old friend. I tried and tried, since we had agreed I would visit him last Wednesday, but I couldn't get an answer. So, I went to Toronto and discovered that he had fallen and had been taken to hospital. I visited him there. I know that am his one and only contact and that he had given my name to his doctor and others (including the CCAC), I tried to get information on his status. I pestered the nurses and the hospital social worker for his unit. No one would tell me anything. Privacy laws protected him and that's fine, but I knew my name was down on the list somewhere, only no one would bother to look. I was in Toronto for two days and then had to return home and try connecting with the people in charge via long distance calls. Yes, now I am ranting, sorry about that.

After a lot of calls to Toronto, including several to the CCAC whose whole computer system was down for hours, I was finally able to confirm that I was listed as the 'consent' person. That allowed me to pry a little information from the nurse responsible for my friend's care. She tells me he is making some progress toward recovery and he wants to know where his shoes are. I can't help with that, and no one seems to know where his personal things have gone.

I guess more long distance calls will be in my future, and I know I'll be making sure my daughter is still aware of where to find my Will and my Power of Attorney. My friend has not made a Will or chosen a substitute decision maker and should he not recover his wits, there will be a huge mess. So, if anyone reading this has postponed making a Will, or enabling someone to act for you, should you not be able to make decisions, then - DO IT NOW!

The Day After Christmas

It's a quiet sunny day, the trees are cloaked in ice and there is very little traffic in this part of town. The Boxing Day bargain scavengers are no doubt scurrying through the malls and snapping up things they may regret buying later. As for me, I prefer to stay home and I need time to recover from all the Christmas events. I had a four day Christmas this year.

It started on Friday, when D. and I went to his daughter's place in Embro for Christmas lunch. And while she referred to it as lunch, it was really a full-scale dinner and we didn't need to eat anything else for the rest of the day, or the next day, but of course, we did.

Saturday, D. arrived carrying a new microwave oven for me. On Sunday D. and I opened gifts and had a peaceful day.

Nancy and her family arrived home Monday evening and so we were able to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day together. Nancy and Gary and the boys went to Christmas eve midnight mass, but I was knackered and went to bed. However, I was awakened by the fragrance of home-made spaghetti and joined them for a snack at 2 a.m. Christmas day didn't start until about 9:30, when I got up and turned on the coffee maker, the rest of the crew emerged shortly thereafter and we had brunch and Nancy and Gary prepared the turkey dinner.

There is always at least one snag in every Christmas Day, at least in our family. Gary's mom lives in a long-term care facility in Waterloo, but the plan was to bring her to the house for Christmas dinner and then take her back afterward. Gary and his brother went to pick her up, but she decided she wanted to stay put. So Gary drove back to the house to pack up dinner for his mom and his brother and take it to them. Gary needed someone to drive up with him in a second car so that his brother would be able to come back after eating dinner. Are you confused yet? Well if not, you are the only one who understands what was going on. Frank senior (my former husband) volunteered to follow Gary. So, Gary set off in the family car, and Frank tried to follow him in his car, Alas, Gary forgot that Frank was following him and he forgot that Frank had never been to the facility. Frank got thoroughly lost. Fortunately he had his cell phone with him and he called Nancy for directions. It was dark and the long-term care home is in a weird part of Waterloo that is only accessible by taking a roundabout and then backtracking. Are you lost yet? Frank still was. I'm still not sure how he was able to follow Nancy's directions, but somehow he managed and things worked out. Dinner was delayed by over an hour, but it was still mighty delicious.

Frankie and Sam are ecstatic because, between them, they have enough money to buy an Xbox 360. In fact, Frank might be at the mall right now, checking out prices. I don't know what is so enticing about the Xbox and probably never will, but then, I don't need to know.

I do know it was a very special Christmas and I have the Minnie Mouse to prove it.

Happy New Year to all of you.

Snow, Snow, Snow, Shop, Shop, Shop. Stop

We have snow. There is enough of it to go over my boot tops, should I happen to step off the sidewalk and into a snowbank. The effects of the storm were still here on Monday, so I stayed home, and of course by today, I thought of more things I needed to buy for Christmas. It always works that way for me. Sure, I do advance planning and the presents I ordered from the Avon guy have arrived as have a couple of other things. Christmas cards and a present to a far away friend have been mailed. But there is nothing like the urgency of the last few days before the holiday to put me back into a shopping frame of mind. And besides, it snowed.

So, I took the bus to the little mall at Bridgeport and Weber. It's not as horrendously busy as the big malls and I can usually find a bargain or two. The bus arrived almost on time and the driver was letting people off at shoveled driveways rather than at snow-burdened bus stops. It didn't take me long to spend almost $100 between Zellers and the grocery store. And it could all be carried in two very heavy bags. I still haven't found another something special for Frank and Sam, but that may happen when I go to the Highland Hills Mall on Thursday. I have to go there, the dentist's office is in the mall. But that may be another story.

I mentioned heavy bags, because when the bus came to take me home, it didn't stop in a more or less snow free area. And, there was an older (older than me) woman attempting to get off the bus with her walker. The driver did at least lower the bus. The woman took one step backwards off the bus and her foot sank into the snowbank. The young man who was waiting for the bus with me just stood there. I transferred both my bags to one hand and assisted the woman with the walker to reach the sidewalk safely. I don't blame the young man, he probably was not sure what to do, or how to do it safely. I do blame the bus driver, at least a little, for not stopping in a better spot. If I had had more foresight. I would have handed my grocery bags to the young man, then I would have had the use of both hands. My shoulder is a bit sore now, so it's time to stop shopping, for today.

I think I'll wrap presents and put them under my little green plastic tree while listening to Christmas music. That's a better way to spend the rest of my afternoon. As the song says, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

Merry Christmas to all, and Merry Xmas too!

The Mortimer Bus Gang and The Murder

On Monday, I went to Toronto to get together with four people I hadn't seen in about five years. We originally met on the Mortimer 62 bus. We all lived in the same neighbourhood at the time and it turned out that we had, and still have, some things in common. Mostly, I think we share a belief in what I'll call the Canadian ideal.

We are a disparate group in some ways. We come from different parts of the world. Three of us chose to become Canadians, two of us were born here, and of those two, one is aboriginal. Our skin colours range from pale and somewhat pink after one beer, to very dark brown. Our religious beliefs and lack of belief, also vary. We all have children who were born in Canada.

When we reunited and shared some of our stories, there was much laughter and then some serious discussion of what should be expected from people who are Canadian. The discussion was prompted by the very recent murder of a young Muslim girl. Her father is said to have murdered her because she did not follow the rules of his culture and she would not wear the head covering. We were all appalled and saddened by the event, though some of us were less shocked than others.

It can be extremely difficult for first generation Canadians to accept the choices their children make, especially when the children break cultural or religious rules. Two of our gang told us of the ways their own children had rebelled and of their reactions as parents. They were angry, yes, but that anger was tempered by their belief that they needed to act in accordance with the Canadian ideal.

I don't think we defined what the Canadian ideal is, but perhaps we defined what it isn't. Tolerance of difference does not include accepting differences that are harmful or discriminatory to a person, whether the intolerance has it's origin in culture, in faith, or in race, it makes no difference. It is simply wrong.

If the Canadian ideal ever becomes a wide spread reality, and I'd like to think it can; it will happen slowly, over generations. I am an optimist, but as my friends have proved, I am not alone. If sixty years ago, a small and very disparate group like the Mortimer bus gang had met at a bus stop, would we all have immediately started chatting with one another? Probably not, because it would have seemed too strange, too threatening, both for the brown people (including a large very fit, dark brown man) and for the one pink person. I remain cautiously hopeful and "as Canadian as possible, under the circumstances."

How Do I Avoid Thee. Let Me Count The Ways

It is the last week of November. If I could, I would get rid of November altogether. November is far too dreary with its short dull days and long dark nights. There is no hope of weather that would require shorts and tee shirts, but my summer wardrobe didn't get packed away until yesterday. Was I hoping for a summer day to appear in November? No, I was just avoiding the task. I'm good at that.

For instance, it took me about a year to decide to contact O****d magazine about a submission for which I had received no reply. I sent the magazine an email and then two weeks later another email. After no response to my emails, I sent them a letter. It, too, has not been answered. It occurred to me that perhaps I should send them an - I withdraw my submission - letter. But that would be pointless, so I can avoid doing that. Instead, I decided to revise the story, and I started to do that, but other events interceded. It's on the work list, but not yet completed.

I needed a new coat last year, and the year before that, but I postponed shopping for one and by January, all the medium size coats in my price-range had disappeared. Avoiding things has its benefits. I saved money and finally, two weeks ago, I did find and buy a coat. It was a close call though. If D. had not been with me I might have resisted because I didn't want to carry the coat home on the bus.

I have quilts that I need to take to the laundromat since they are too large for my small washer/dryer. But now, there is snow and ice on the ground. I think I'll wait.

There is a flu shot clinic today and I can't avoid that since it is the only one in my area. However, before the day is over, I'm sure I'll find something else to avoid. As I said, I'm good at it.

My Work/Play Ratio Might Need an Adjustment

Maybe it's the grimness of November, although we had sun yesterday, or maybe its simply the arrival of my second childhood, but in any case, I spend much more time at play than at work.

Yesterday was a productive time. I finished final revisions to a story, wrote three letters, sent the story to three places and finally showered and dressed at noon. I could feel virtuous about that, except; I goofed off all weekend and so far today, I've played Scrabulous, ordered Christmas gifts, bought a lottery ticket, surfed the Internet and had two cups of coffee. I am also reading a Quintin Jardine mystery and Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes. Evidently, I have a lot to learn in that department.

D. will be here for tea and a chat this evening so now I must find the top of my desk and tidy my apartment. How did I generate so much mess in one day of work? Would I ever be able to find anything if I worked more often?

Play has it's benefits-- I've learned that qat is a valid Scrabulous word. But now I must make a list of things I have to do. Drat! Second childhood interrupted.

Remembrance Day Thoughts

Sunday is Remembrance Day.

I wondered what I could say as the day brings so many people to mind. Let's remember those Canadians who are currently serving in Afghanistan and around the world, as well as all the veterans.

A few people from the many I'll always remember.

My grandfather, John Wesley A. who served in World War One in the British Expeditionary Forces (from Canada) and never revealed the horrors of his four years in the trenches to us.

The men and women who lived in the Veterans' Wing at Sunnybrook Hospital.. I knew so many of them but some stand out in my mind.

Allistair H captained a destroyer (WW II) and liked to paint silk scarves.
Fred LeF volunteered before he was of age (WW I) . He had the world's biggest smile and adored I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles
Connie, nurse (WWII) couldn't talk but could sing as loudly as Ethel Merman.
Fred K (WW II) loved to work on the potter's wheel, though he had Parkinson's disease and sometimes got stuck in one position for several minutes.
Arthur B. (WW II) the shortest man in his regiment. He wore the biggest hats and spent his time building beautiful doll houses and drinking smuggled-in wine, when he could get some.

The veterans I worked with at the community centre and through the CNIB.
Vi (WW II Women's Army Corps) lost almost all her vision but none of her memories.
Claire H. (WW II) a gentle man who reminded me of my grandfather and who coped with his infirmities with infinite grace.

The list in my head is much longer, but I cannot write all the names down,

"We'll Meet Again"

Great News and Grumbles

It's always best to start with good news and I have better-than-good news to report. It's terrific news! My friend Lori Hahnel's short story collection, Nothing Sacred, will be published in autumn 2009 by Thistledown Press. I'm delighted for her and know how long and hard she has worked. Talent, luck and pluck (bug the people who have your work) have finally paid off. This is her first book and there will be others. I plan to buy every one. Lori has also kindly said that I'll be named in the acknowledgements. Actually, she said I'd have a whole page, but that decision will likely rest with her publisher. I plan to have my own celebration when the weather obliges and I can walk to the store and purchase a small libation.

I'll try to make the grumble shorter than the good news. Why the heck is Mr. Harper running negative ads about Dion already, and who is funding the cost of those ads? What is he afraid of? The Liberals aren't chomping at the bit and ready to run another race. Maybe Harper thinks that he should call an election while the Liberals are still locked behind the starting gate. He'd better think twice about spending our money on that. And furthermore, a reduction in the GST is not the best way to give us folks on the bottom rung of the economic ladder a break.

That is more than enough about federal politics and although I have many more complaints I'll save them for another time.

In the last little while, I've acted as first editor for a friend who is writing restaurant reviews for Real Women Canada.(Although the review that is probably posted on the site by now was not seen by me due to a mysterious email glitch.) That means I'll be treated to lunch soon. I'm planning to have something decadent and be unrepentant.

That's about it for this post, except for this.

Three cheers for Lori!

Gary's Art

My son-in-law has recently returned to drawing. It's something he did earlier in his life and now he's taking lessons and drawing frequently. One of his drawings has won a prize and he has also sold a commissioned piece.

You can see his work here.

http://www.fanartreview.com/listart.jsp?forsaleonly=0&contest=0&id=0&edt=0&bookid=null&usercontest=null&createpoem=&keywords=&author=76382&category=-1&photos=0&sort=0&fsView=0&art=0&dart=0&forsaleonly=0&recstatus=0&page=1

Books

I was thinking I ought to make more room on my book shelves, maybe by selling or giving away some of the books I already have. I was thinking that before I went to Toronto on Thursday and came home with another book. It's a small paperback so I can probably fit it in somewhere. Then, on Friday, a friend gave me a huge Oxford Dictionary of Canadian English and two large art history books. I'm delighted but the books are still on my kitchen table since there is no room for them on the shelves.



I may have the solution though. There are big sets of shelves in my bedroom and one set holds clothes that I have no room for in my closet. It's time to do a clothes purge so that I have more room for books. Wouldn't you do the same thing?

Rejoicing for My Friend

Late yesterday, I heard from my friend Lori Hahnel. Her story, Art is Long, will be published in that Holy Grail of Canadian literary journals, The Fiddlehead.

Virtual champagne is now available to all readers of this blog in honour of Lori's success. I've happily been the first reader for some of her stories including this one and hope to read more in the future.

Here's looking at you kid! You are indeed, In Like Flynn.

Cheers!

Got Guilt?

If you don't have enough guilt, please let me know and I'll send some to you because I have plenty.

Guilt about not writing - guilt about not cleaning - guilt about not responding to facebook questions and friend's emails - guilt about spending too much money - guilt about not looking for a job. Need I go on? Probably not.

Therefore; let me talk briefly about the Ontario election and the very divisive issue of "faith-based school funding." I think John Tory was mistaken in choosing to emphasize that issue and now he has discovered that most Ontarians didn't agree with his stance. I certainly didn't agree. The next step in dealing with the issue will require a government with enough courage to phase out the separate (Catholic) school system, as Quebec has already done. That may not happen for a while but I think, eventually, it will.

Why not have one school system for all? It makes sense in this most multicultural society and then, it would also be possible to fund schools properly. That's extremely important for all our children.

Election Weirdness

The Provincial election takes place on October tenth. I wonder how many people will foget that due to Oktoberfest shenanigans?

I received a flyer in my mail box today from the P.C. candidate for my riding. There's a picture of McGuinty on the front, he's the face on the Wanted for breaking promises poster. The picture does not look any worse than my passport picture, and I suspect that Ontario still wants McGuinty and the Liberals. I looked at the local P.C. candidate's website in order to be fair, but it contains little except a couple of other pictures of him.

I'm not sure if Ontario wants to continue with first-past-the post election winners or choose the new and confusing system. I'm not even sure that I understand the proposal, but that could just be me.

And, interestingly, no one is mentioning Toronto's huge financial problems. Mr. Harper didn't mention them either, when he was in Toronto making a speech. He did however tell everyone that he is going to apply the $14 billion surplus to the debt.

All elected parties tend to break promises sooner or later and those that keep some of their promises sometimes keep the wrong ones. Thus sayeth the cynic.

Passport to Where?

At last, I have acquired my passport. It was a long struggle to find someone who was eligible to swear I was 'real' but I did. After submitting all the documents and the outrageous fee to the local office, I was told the passport would arrive in a couple of weeks. In fact it took only ten days to get here. Colour me astonished. I'm totally prepared now for a big lottery win. When that happens I can go anywhere I want, even to Calgary. (I hear the rest of Canada might soon need a passport to enter the Oil Kingdon).

The long process involved in getting the proof which shows world I'm a 'real' Canadian made me wonder how I got this far in life with so little documentation - no drivers licence, no employer card, no picture health card and so on. A few years ago, I didn't even have a social security card, or a birth certificate, thanks to a purse snatcher. Now, in addition to my new passport, I have a picture health card and a few years ago I replaced my SIN card and my birth certificate. I have lots of ID now. It will be all too easy for people to find me when I win the lottery. I'd better make a plan.

Speaking of plans, sometimes all the planning in the world won't prevent weirdness from happening. For instance, my daughter's lawn care company is required to post signs on the day before they use any herbicide/pesticide/product on a lawn. Naturally, she has this done by area, or neighbourhood since that is the most efficient way to do it. Earlier in the week, every posted sign in a certain neighbourhood was removed by person or persons unkown. Everything had to be reposted, jobs had to be rescheduled, time was lost, money was lost, but there's nothing she can do about it and that hurts. I wish I could fix the situation for her, but I can't.

I'd better go fix the story I've been revising, instead.

What are You Reading?

This morning, I read my friend Lori's blog and she mentions Nora Ephron's current book. As it happens, I've dipped into that book too, while at the library. I wonder if it would have been published if it wasn't written by a 'known' writer. It's slight and somewhat amusing in places, but that's all. On the other hand, The Blue Hour of The Day, Lorna Crozier's collected poems, is worth reading more than once. I hated to return it to the library

I'm in the middle of reading Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures by Vincent Lam. A couple of weeks ago, I read Thirteen by Evanovitch. It was far more entertaining than Ephron's very minor epiphanies.

What are you reading?

What Category are You?

On Saturday, I went to a workshop for writers sponsored by the Toronto chapter of Romance Writers of America.

I had to take the 7:30 a.m. bus. There were a lot of other people on the bus, but only one held any fascination for me. She was in the seat directly in front of me. I'd been looking elsewhere when she sat down and all I could see was the back of her head. An amazing feat of hair architecture. Before seeing that, I'd assumed that teasing hair to such an extent had died and was not mourned. I was wrong. While the bus navigated the bumps on local roads, the hands of the woman in front of me were busy. One held a small mirror and the other one was used to apply makeup. I recognized some of the tools she used but not all of them - there were so many. Thirty-five minutes later she appeared to be finished and all her tools had clinked back into the box. Next came an assortment of pill bottles. She swallowed ten different pills then settled back in her seat, perhaps to gain energy for what would happen next.

As the bus arrived at the terminal, she popped out of her seat like a Jill from a box, and pushed her way to the front door. I never did see her face. Was she going to a job interview, or the film festival, or was she an alien among us? Only the shadow knows.

The workshop itself was good and the presenter was very professional (aside from a few personal digressions that were a tad on the long side) and interesting. Since I arrived after she started to talk, I had to sit at the back of a the room. That usually means that any power point presentations will be impossible for me to read, but her slides were clear, large and readable.

There were about 80 women in the room and one man, who of course received special mention. I didn't have a choice of where to sit and my table companions seemed to know each other very well. They weren't the least bit interested in adding to their list of acquaintances. Too bad.

At lunch time I spoke briefly to the women at the table behind me. They were both working on romance novels and they asked me what I was writing. Mainstream or literary I answered. What's that? What indeed. I tried to explain and probably didn't do a good job because I'm not sure how to define it, except to say that it isn't genre fiction.

It did make me think about the way that books are slotted into categories. Romance has a lot of subdivisions - romance Harlequin style, bodice rippers, erotic romance, paranormal romance, romantic suspense, fantasy romance (okay, maybe all romance is fantasy to some extent) perhaps there is even science-fiction romance.

When the presenter mentioned one famous writer of horror, Stephen King, and asked how many of us had read his fiction, only about 5 of the people there raised their hands, and I was one of them. That startled me. I do read genre/category/ call-it-what-you-will fiction of many different types as well as reading 'fine' or literary work. I like to think I'm an omnivorous reader, though others might say I'm a print addict. Each to their own addiction.

What category are you?

Home Again and travels with Google Earth

It's been an out-of-this-world week. D. and I went up to the family trailer on Tuesday and returned on Friday. While were in "the Bruce" the weather was fair and we did a little exploring. We went to see the Saugeen Falls and discovered that the river was so low that people were walking across and sliding down parts of the falls. Of course there are signs warning of slippery rocks but no one was reading them except older folk, like us. We also drove to Owen Sound, which is across the peninsula on the Georgian Bay side and walked the path beside the channel. It wasn't the part of the path that had been gentrified by the city,somehow we failed to locate that area, but there was a cool breeze and sunshine to enjoy.

On Thursday, we found a hidden treasure, at least that's how I've come to regard it. On the way back to Southampton we saw a small sign that said Amphitheatre and 'all welcome'. There wasn't much to see from the road, only a parking lot next to an old United Church and the location was just inside the Saugeen First Nations land. In any event, we stopped and parked because D. knew the river was close by. We found the amphitheatre and a lovely series of gardens in tiers with stone paths that led to a beautiful river outlook, there was also a nature walk which we followed until it became too steep for me. The whole place was peaceful and unspoiled by anything commercial. I assume that members of the Saugeen band tend the site and they don't ask for any donations. At the time we were both in that state of relaxation known to the family as 'camp head' and our visit to the gardens added to our spaciness. No man-made sounds disturbed our meditative state and we stayed until late afternoon.

There was food of course, and more food. Fresh picked local corn, new potatoes and strawberries from the best fruit and vegetable stand , a lemon meringue pie that somehow slipped into our cart when we were in the grocery store to pick up bottled water, milk, chicken and steaks for the BBQ. Excellent halibut fish and chips at a restaurant in Southampton. And, candied almonds D. had the foresight to bring in case we needed a snack, or two, or three.

D, had a grand time using his new digital camera and took at least 60 pictures. So we'll have green memories to enjoy when it's white and cold outside.

On the weekend we relaxed some more. I found Little Miss Sunshine on the Express DVD shelf at the library and we watched that and laughed ourselves into hiccups at the ending. I'd told D. that I'd like to visit the family cemetery which is located just outside of Highgate Ontario so he decided to see if we could find it using Google's Earth program. D. has a brand-new fast sophisticated computer and we found the area then zoomed in and zoomed in some more and then, after the fourth zoom. Poof! The computer cut out and rebooted. He tried again and the same thing happened. So I'm never going to download that program. We are reasonably certain of where the cemetery is since I have a map drawn by my mother, but it does not show up on Google earth, perhaps it is more heavenly than Earth-ly. Sometime in September we'll find out if my mother's map is correct.

Right now though, I have to begin de-relaxing (my new made-up word). It is, as D. says, time to do things.

Cheers!

Idol - atry Free

I was reading a blog on the CBC website titled - Stuff we’ve missed
The complete guide to missing out on major cultural phenomena. It mentions books and television shows like American/Canadian Idol. Summer television here in the one-channel universe makes me want to moan, stop, please stop. It isn't just a little 'pitchy' the Idol genre is bad verging on horrid. But lest you think I'm a complete highbrow snob, I'll admit I like watching So You Think You Can Dance; that is, I like watching the actual dance segments, but I could do without the other parts of the program.

I probably missed out on lots of major cultural phenomena since I didn't have a television for a number of years and there are lots of 'must read' books that I haven't read yet and may never get around to reading. Then there are books I started and never finished. I've also never attended a live rock concert that featured a major star, never been to a major league baseball game, or visited a major amusement park, but I have no desire to do any of those things.

Did you know that Gilligan's Island is now out on DVD as a 'classic' television series? My grandsons find it very funny. I don't. As for me, I'd buy a DVD of Dark Shadows, if I could find one -vampire soap opera, now that's classic TV. Okay, so it's not, but that Jonathan had charisma from his toes to his fangs. As for what will be a television classic, I vote for Corner Gas. Thank goodness CTV sticks reruns of CG on in prime time when it has a spare half hour between the endless Idol programs.

Now, I'm going to watch The Lavender Hill Mob on DVD, it's a classic movie that stands the test of time, and it has no bad singing in it.

Feelin' Hot, Hot, Hot - Or, How 93 Became 34

The weather forecast for today reminded me of that old Arrow song. Environment Canada's Website says it will be 34 degrees today, and when I press the convert to Fahrenheit key, 34 becomes 93 degrees. Maybe when Canada went metric it wasn't done to put us in synch with the rest of the world; instead, it was an 'evil plot' to make us think our weather is reasonable. We all know our weather is reasonable for only very short periods of time. I'd blame it on the Conservatives, but I'm not sure if they were in power then.

In the plans-gang-aft-agley department, I had planned to stay in Toronto for a couple of days this week. A friend invited me, then had to cancel when some of her family had to move in with her due to renovation problems. While I'd love to see her, I'm happy to wait for a more convenient time, and better weather.

O.V. finally replied to my query about an old story. So, now I know that both my contest entry and the old story need to be revised and sent out again. There are other writing projects to work on as well, but I've been lazy.My only recent accomplishment is the book review that's now up on http://www.seniorwomen.com/. My friend D. says I'm simply taking a short sabbatical. Thanks, D. I'll buy that.

Naming The Man in My Life and Other Matters of Importance

Maybe it's because I now have a thesaurus, or maybe it's because I'm avoiding revisions, but today, I've been thinking about how women my age should refer to the men with whom they are romantically involved.

Introductions can be a little tricky. Do I say- this is my friend- and use voice inflection to put quotation marks around it? I'm not comfortable with saying he's my boyfriend since he is obviously not a boy anymore and anyhow, that word is entirely too cute. When I refer to him informally on a Web forum, I often call him my significant other. But I don't like the expression much. I'd use partner, but D. is averse to that one since it's often used by gay guys. Companion is rather appropriate I think. Best of all is amoroso, which appears in my thesaurus, but it's probably not good for use in casual conversation. Perhaps I'll just say this is D. and let 'em wonder.

One important thing occurred today.I went forth into the marketplace and after many trials and temptations, I purchased a new pair of jeans. The bank loan should come through soon.

Summer Daze In My Electronic "Cottage"

The magical delight of a perfect summer day. A few small clouds to define the sky; a light breeze to keep the temperature moderate; a long walk in the sunshine this morning; a traditional Canadian breakfast. Bliss.

And when I thought the day could not be improved upon, a surprise arrived. My friend D. called and asked if he could come over for a while this evening. When he arrived, I had to open the door wide because he was carrying a big box that contained a 20 inch colour television for me. After he'd installed it, complete with the better aerial, he proceeded to install surprise number two, a cable that goes from my stereo to the aerial. Now, I have a very clear FM signal for the first time since I moved here and I'm enjoying listening to a great concert on CBC radio 2 with absolutely no fuzzy sound or other interference. I can listen to the radio through the computer too and have a version of surround sound.

I tell you, it's all more than a little overwhelming for me. But, I like it, oh yes, I like it very much. Maybe someone should pinch me to make sure I haven't gone to Oz or La La land. On second thought, cancel that. I'll stay in my happy daze for a while.

Cheers!

Conrad Black Found Guilty - Now what?

The verdict is in and Conrad Black has been found guilty of some of the criminal charges laid against him. I know at least one person who is dancing around his living room as I type this. My friend D. worked for an American company for many years and when it was taken over by Hollinger Internationl. the pension fund was gutted. Dancing won't give D. back his money but there is likely some satisfaction in seeing Mr. Black get his comeuppance - and jail time too I'd assume.

Black gave up his Canadian citizenship so that he could sit in the British House of Lords. I wonder if that means he will choose to serve his time in a British jail? Maybe Her Majesty could speak to him - It's all rather a frightful mess, isn't it old chap? One ought to consider turning in the ermine.

At the beginning of his trial Black made comments about getting his Canadian citizenship back. I'm not sure how far things have gone in that direction. If I were the one making the decision I'd say no to him, on the grounds that we already have a more-than-sufficient number of ruthless business people with no principles, but without ermine capes. Maybe Black should give his cape to the next contender, but she who used to write for the Sun might not like that.

I cannot abide his uber right-wing ultra-snobbish nut cake (won't even type her name) 'wife'.

Sic transit dubious gloria, and it's about time.