Friday, May 2, 2014
And so it begins ....
Hard to believe that my last entry in this blog was two years ago. Where has the time gone?!
While the spirit was willing, life was calling, and there have been quite a few distractions that kept me focused elsewhere.
But that is all about to change.
I will soon embark on a new journey that will see some changes to my life and my work, and it's going to be very exciting. As part of that journey, I've decided to make a fresh start in the blogging world by officially retiring this blog and moving to a new home.
And so, in July 2014, "words at random" will shut down and words will begin again at http://jennygateswords.wordpress.com/.
Thanks for checking in and supporting my spontaneous reflections and contributions over the years. I'm looking forward to what the future will bring us all.
See you there and then!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Stay tuned ...
What to do when things don't look as they should? Bemoan? Complain? Or find another course?
In order to better serve my readers, I've decided to find another course. (Actually, I've already tried bemoaning to no avail, and complaining that absolutely fell on deaf ears.)
So stay tuned. We are on the move! And it will be oh, so much better!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Drive
It was a brisk start to the morning for my early drive to Steinbach yesterday. Honda, bless their little hearts, were finally installing the autostart for my new car - albeit a tad late for the chilly season. Still, as the service guy suggested, "Plenty of time to practise now for next winter." Yes, indeed.
I was looking forward to the drive after a very busy weekend that didn't include any travelling afar whatsoever. And the car was in need of a distant run, after spending most of its life thus far tootling around the city.
The sun wasn't long in the mostly dark cloudy sky, and the road was all but deserted - the benefit of driving early and against the traffic. I was in no hurry, and decided to enjoy the surrounds as they whizzed by at a slightly slower than others' expected speed of 100 kph.
For the most part, people adapted, but as I discovered, not everyone appreciates or understands a driver travelling at less than 20% of the limit - even if they are correctly motoring in the curbside lane.
There were some who looked sideways, as if expecting to see some reason for my snail's pace, comparatively speaking, or to glare in my direction and encourage me to put the pedal to the metal. Others drove right up behind me before suddenly veering left and overtaking - yeah, that works every time. Some sped past, presumably showing me how it's done, and the rest simply drove by as if I wasn't even there.
For my Honda and I, we made it there and back again without stress or speed, and we got to take in all the visual joys of the country life.
For those who seemed concerned or bemused about my decision to take my time, I suggest you try it on your next journey to wherever you are going. It's really quite fun and relaxing, and still gets you there on time - if you leave a tad bit earlier to compensate.
And for those trying bullish tactics, better luck somewhere else. I used to be a master at tailgating, intimidating, gesticulating, cursing, glaring and swerving, but I've given all that up, so your efforts fell short.
These days, I much prefer the slower pace so I can make the most of my drive in the country.
PS This also works in city driving - which is something we can all appreciate!
Monday, April 9, 2012
A 'good' Friday indeed
Right off the bat, it felt like we were wagging school or taking a sickie.
We awoke to the alarm, cooked an omelette to use up the orange capsicum, and watched Transformers to pass the time.
At 12:30, for want of something better to do, we headed out to see if Superstore was open. It was, after all, Easter, and thanks to a lack of planning on our part and some silly self-inflicted rule of no sweets or junk food or coffee from Monday to Friday, there was no chocolate to be found anywhere in the house.
This necessitated a hunt, but the odds were slim, given the date on the calendar. A quick look around the neighbourhood and we were out of luck on the chocolate front. So after hitting the bank, so to speak, we took a window seat at Starbucks, where we sipped and munched and read our way through the next two hours. At that point, we headed home to other projects and plans.
That venture on its own was not too remarkable, but it's what we saw when we were out that pleasantly surprised us.
You see, other than our coffee stop, the stores and streets were mostly people free.
It was peaceful and quiet, and reminded me of my youth. Those "more frequently than now" days when all shops were closed on weeknights (except for Thursday night), weekends (except for Saturday mornings) and public holidays (no exceptions). Which meant that people were home with their family and friends, catching up on the day's activities, the week's worries, and enjoying more time together.
I get that some of us need access to shops all day and every day, but I liked it much better when we didn't. When you could enjoy a stress-free wander along deserted streets, imagining and planning what you'd buy when the shops were open again. When we planned ahead. When we didn't have to shop, just because we could.
So for us, it was a 'good' Friday indeed. And as luck would have it, we had another moment that gave us an opportunity to enjoy time together without the usual distractions.
That Sunday night, the power went off at exactly 6:43 pm, and stayed off for two hours. We stayed sat on the sofa, and talked and read. It was wonderful.
Of course, we have a choice to not shop and to not watch just because. Problem is we don't exercise that choice often enough. But after this 'good' Friday and Easter Sunday, we might choose to do exactly that on a regular basis!
Monday, March 26, 2012
Dear Mr Blue Box collector
Strange conversation we had last week, eh? Me trying to get your attention, you ignoring me as much as possible. Oh well, I'm sure it was great entertainment for the neighbours, and it gave us the opportunity to air a few concerns.
If I remember correctly, it was a beautiful day and the sun was shining. I know you saw our two blue boxes because during the course of our conversation, you told me so. True, there were those two piles of dirt on the street in front of them, but we didn't put them there - and they weren't there when we put the boxes out early that morning.
From my standpoint, you had three choices.
1. You could have walked 6 feet around the back of one pile, pick up the first bin, keep walking to pick up the second bin, take both to the truck, empty them, and leave them right there on the curb.
2. You could have walked around the back of one pile, then around the front of the second pile, taking the bins one at a time and emptying them.
3. You could have walked through the middle of the two piles where there was a clear path, and picked up both bins before taking them to the truck.
Unfortunately, you decided the whole situation was our fault and chose to leave both where they were, even though they were easily accessible and full to the brim with recycled matter.
When I saw the situation, I had three choices.
1. Ignore you and let you go on your way, then take the bins to the local recycle spot.
2. Call the city and complain, even though it would have meant dealing with the ridiculous 311 line.
3. Run out into the street and insist you come back and do your job.
Unfortunately, I chose #3, replaced "insist" with "yelling", which led to a bit of name calling on both our parts, me apologising for name calling and yelling, you saying bins only get picked up if they're on the curb, me saying they were on the curb, you saying that missing a few bins wasn't your problem, me asking if you were paid to make it your problem, you complaining you had hundreds of thousands of bins to pick up and you couldn't go back for only two, me shaking my head as you tossed the bins to the ground, and you yelling "Have a nice day!" in the kind of voice that suggested you didn't really mean it.
The sad part of it all is that in our respective desire to win the conversation, neither of us noticed that the bins on the other side of the street hadn't been picked up yet. That would have given each of us an option:
1. I could have simply put them over there for you to pick up later.
2. You could have suggested from your position down the street that I put them over them for you to pick up later.
Unfortunately, we chose ignoring and yelling over civil and courteous behaviour. What a shame.
Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'd rather not do that again next week - the neighbours don't need the entertainment, and neither you nor I need or deserve the angst.
Signed, an otherwise grateful Blue Box user.
PS While I was writing this blog, a friend posted an appropriate sentiment on my Facebook page: "I am thankful for the difficult people in my life. They have shown me exactly who I don't want to be." Hmmm. To which one of us do you think this applies?!
If I remember correctly, it was a beautiful day and the sun was shining. I know you saw our two blue boxes because during the course of our conversation, you told me so. True, there were those two piles of dirt on the street in front of them, but we didn't put them there - and they weren't there when we put the boxes out early that morning.
From my standpoint, you had three choices.
1. You could have walked 6 feet around the back of one pile, pick up the first bin, keep walking to pick up the second bin, take both to the truck, empty them, and leave them right there on the curb.
2. You could have walked around the back of one pile, then around the front of the second pile, taking the bins one at a time and emptying them.
3. You could have walked through the middle of the two piles where there was a clear path, and picked up both bins before taking them to the truck.
Unfortunately, you decided the whole situation was our fault and chose to leave both where they were, even though they were easily accessible and full to the brim with recycled matter.
When I saw the situation, I had three choices.
1. Ignore you and let you go on your way, then take the bins to the local recycle spot.
2. Call the city and complain, even though it would have meant dealing with the ridiculous 311 line.
3. Run out into the street and insist you come back and do your job.
Unfortunately, I chose #3, replaced "insist" with "yelling", which led to a bit of name calling on both our parts, me apologising for name calling and yelling, you saying bins only get picked up if they're on the curb, me saying they were on the curb, you saying that missing a few bins wasn't your problem, me asking if you were paid to make it your problem, you complaining you had hundreds of thousands of bins to pick up and you couldn't go back for only two, me shaking my head as you tossed the bins to the ground, and you yelling "Have a nice day!" in the kind of voice that suggested you didn't really mean it.
The sad part of it all is that in our respective desire to win the conversation, neither of us noticed that the bins on the other side of the street hadn't been picked up yet. That would have given each of us an option:
1. I could have simply put them over there for you to pick up later.
2. You could have suggested from your position down the street that I put them over them for you to pick up later.
Unfortunately, we chose ignoring and yelling over civil and courteous behaviour. What a shame.
Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'd rather not do that again next week - the neighbours don't need the entertainment, and neither you nor I need or deserve the angst.
Signed, an otherwise grateful Blue Box user.
PS While I was writing this blog, a friend posted an appropriate sentiment on my Facebook page: "I am thankful for the difficult people in my life. They have shown me exactly who I don't want to be." Hmmm. To which one of us do you think this applies?!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Learning the hard way
I can do things. Tie my shoelaces, drive a car, edit books, keep deadlines, remember birthdays, write, take photos, and deliver interesting speeches.
There are lots of things I can't do. Cook, graphic design, and brain surgery, to name just a few of the many I could put here.
And there is one thing I do do that, as I learned the hard way, has major repercussions.
It's called overtasking - when the list of duties becomes so overwhelming that you wake up one day simultaneously wondering and panicking, "What the hey? How did this happen? And what do I do now?"
To be sure, this is a slow creep, occurring over time and without anyone actually noticing. In my case, and in this particular situation, it was brought about by picking up tasks left wanting because the people doing them either moved, took another job, retired or burned out, or were in fact never told it was something they should or could be doing in the first place.
And that's not all. It's also the result of me being a little too protective of my charges, overenthusiastic about my responsibilities, quick to take on new tasks to fix a particular situation that has arisen or might arise at some point down the line, and/or doing more, way more, than the situation required.
As a result, there is now, quite simply, too much on my plate, most of which I probably shouldn't even be doing. And because I'm focused on moving in a new direction and succeeding in some different pursuits, I need to take back much of the time otherwise committed to the repercussions of that slow creep, and thereby regain some control over my today.
In other words, it's time to let something go.
Exactly what had to go became obvious after tracking time spent on everything over a two-month period. With the answer staring me in the face, and the realisation slowly sinking in, it was nevertheless a tough decision, albeit definitely the right one. For better or for worse, it will take some time to stick, but it is already in play.
I learned the hard way that allowing slow creep to monopolise your time and ambitions doesn't get you anywhere. So, look at it from my point of view and stop the creep before it stops you.
Now, that's something we can all do!
There are lots of things I can't do. Cook, graphic design, and brain surgery, to name just a few of the many I could put here.
And there is one thing I do do that, as I learned the hard way, has major repercussions.
It's called overtasking - when the list of duties becomes so overwhelming that you wake up one day simultaneously wondering and panicking, "What the hey? How did this happen? And what do I do now?"
To be sure, this is a slow creep, occurring over time and without anyone actually noticing. In my case, and in this particular situation, it was brought about by picking up tasks left wanting because the people doing them either moved, took another job, retired or burned out, or were in fact never told it was something they should or could be doing in the first place.
And that's not all. It's also the result of me being a little too protective of my charges, overenthusiastic about my responsibilities, quick to take on new tasks to fix a particular situation that has arisen or might arise at some point down the line, and/or doing more, way more, than the situation required.
As a result, there is now, quite simply, too much on my plate, most of which I probably shouldn't even be doing. And because I'm focused on moving in a new direction and succeeding in some different pursuits, I need to take back much of the time otherwise committed to the repercussions of that slow creep, and thereby regain some control over my today.
In other words, it's time to let something go.
Exactly what had to go became obvious after tracking time spent on everything over a two-month period. With the answer staring me in the face, and the realisation slowly sinking in, it was nevertheless a tough decision, albeit definitely the right one. For better or for worse, it will take some time to stick, but it is already in play.
I learned the hard way that allowing slow creep to monopolise your time and ambitions doesn't get you anywhere. So, look at it from my point of view and stop the creep before it stops you.
Now, that's something we can all do!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Did you hear the one about ...
... the truck and the car?
It all happened one snowy Tuesday morning while I was driving to a very early meeting. There weren't many others on the road, and the snow had all but obliterated the lane lines. Conditions required patience, understanding and common sense, all of which were clearly lacking for one character in this story.
Without traffic ahead to guide anyone, the car found itself driving in both the second and third lanes. The truck, which had already demonstrated its poor winter-weather coping skills by speeding out from a red traffic light, skidding on the road, and now making haste down a four-lane road, found itself in the second lane partly behind the car.
Apparently unhappy at not having a clear way through, the truck began to tailgate the car, blast the horn, and incessantly flash highbeam headlights. After about 15 seconds, the car found its way into the actual third lane. And with its path now clear, the truck floored it and skidded off, clearly victorious in its efforts to make a point.
You might ask, "With open lanes on either side of the car for the truck to overtake, why did it bully instead of pass?" Good question.
But that's what happens when you're impatient, insensitive and idiotic while driving on snowy roads in the very early morning on a Tuesday.
I'm just saying ....
It all happened one snowy Tuesday morning while I was driving to a very early meeting. There weren't many others on the road, and the snow had all but obliterated the lane lines. Conditions required patience, understanding and common sense, all of which were clearly lacking for one character in this story.
Without traffic ahead to guide anyone, the car found itself driving in both the second and third lanes. The truck, which had already demonstrated its poor winter-weather coping skills by speeding out from a red traffic light, skidding on the road, and now making haste down a four-lane road, found itself in the second lane partly behind the car.
Apparently unhappy at not having a clear way through, the truck began to tailgate the car, blast the horn, and incessantly flash highbeam headlights. After about 15 seconds, the car found its way into the actual third lane. And with its path now clear, the truck floored it and skidded off, clearly victorious in its efforts to make a point.
You might ask, "With open lanes on either side of the car for the truck to overtake, why did it bully instead of pass?" Good question.
But that's what happens when you're impatient, insensitive and idiotic while driving on snowy roads in the very early morning on a Tuesday.
I'm just saying ....
Monday, February 13, 2012
TEDx-cellence in Manitoba
That I was invited to attend TEDx Manitoba was a big and thrilling surprise!
Of course I'd heard about TED - lots of friends and colleagues have been fans for years - and I'd watched many of the videos and been motivated by the ideas. However, the possibility of attending an event did not seem, well, possible.
So, when I found out that TEDx Manitoba was coming here on Thursday February 9, and that three people I knew - Brad Tyler-West, Getty Stewart, and David Zinger - were speaking, I thought, 'What if?'
I had to be part of that audience. And one online application later, I was up for consideration.
To be honest, the process of applying was so much more than responding to a few questions. It gave me time to think, to consider my ideas, to figure out what really inspired me, and to look deep and find the keys to who I am now and how I got here. It also confirmed that I wanted to attend TEDx for many more reasons than simply bearing witness to the three people I knew.
In the days between getting the official invite and attending the event opener, I thought about how to approach the entire experience.
Given the credentials and celebrity of all the speakers, it would be easy to become overwhelmed by their success. So, I made the decision to attend the event without guilt or remorse for my own unrealised ideas and projects. I chose to listen and be inspired without comparing myself or judging myself for not being as creative or as productive, or, as I had hoped would be the case by now, as known as all those on stage.
Not that I haven't had successful ideas and projects, or proven to be creative and productive, or even known in some circles, but I was in the audience and not on the stage. I wondered if that would affect what I got from the experience.
Given my perched perspective of the proceedings, I then opted to assume, and react as if, each person on stage was talking directly to me, as if the two of us were in deep, focused conversation. It made me feel connected - to the speaker, yes, but more so to the idea, the process, the story behind it all, the possibility, and the impact.
So, what did TEDx Manitoba do for me:
- it made me realise I know more than I thought I did
- it helped me identify my 'x' - a few of them, actually
- it confirmed that I have been on the right track all along
- it connected me with a lot of thinkers and doers, each of whom gave me something of value
- it loaded me up with ideas for projects, speeches, blogs and opportunities
- it provided new links and information avenues
- it amazed and inspired, shared and encouraged, promised and delivered, and yes, even brought me to my feet on two occasions
- it had me wondering, "What if ...?"
My guess is that every person in that room on Thursday approached and then walked away from TEDx Manitoba with something unique. Certainly, they'll be motivated to aim higher or differently, or to continue down the path they are already on. And I suspect they'll also reflect on the inspiring speakers, the passionate organisers, the outstanding volunteers, the smooth running of events, the superb location, the fabulous food, and the idea of a repeat performance in 2013!
For sure, I'll be vying for an invite next year. But for now, it's back to bringing my own projects into the light of day and drawing all manner of inspiration from all and sundry on TED stages everywhere.
What a day! Thanks, everyone!
Of course I'd heard about TED - lots of friends and colleagues have been fans for years - and I'd watched many of the videos and been motivated by the ideas. However, the possibility of attending an event did not seem, well, possible.
So, when I found out that TEDx Manitoba was coming here on Thursday February 9, and that three people I knew - Brad Tyler-West, Getty Stewart, and David Zinger - were speaking, I thought, 'What if?'
I had to be part of that audience. And one online application later, I was up for consideration.
To be honest, the process of applying was so much more than responding to a few questions. It gave me time to think, to consider my ideas, to figure out what really inspired me, and to look deep and find the keys to who I am now and how I got here. It also confirmed that I wanted to attend TEDx for many more reasons than simply bearing witness to the three people I knew.
In the days between getting the official invite and attending the event opener, I thought about how to approach the entire experience.
Given the credentials and celebrity of all the speakers, it would be easy to become overwhelmed by their success. So, I made the decision to attend the event without guilt or remorse for my own unrealised ideas and projects. I chose to listen and be inspired without comparing myself or judging myself for not being as creative or as productive, or, as I had hoped would be the case by now, as known as all those on stage.
Not that I haven't had successful ideas and projects, or proven to be creative and productive, or even known in some circles, but I was in the audience and not on the stage. I wondered if that would affect what I got from the experience.
Given my perched perspective of the proceedings, I then opted to assume, and react as if, each person on stage was talking directly to me, as if the two of us were in deep, focused conversation. It made me feel connected - to the speaker, yes, but more so to the idea, the process, the story behind it all, the possibility, and the impact.
So, what did TEDx Manitoba do for me:
- it made me realise I know more than I thought I did
- it helped me identify my 'x' - a few of them, actually
- it confirmed that I have been on the right track all along
- it connected me with a lot of thinkers and doers, each of whom gave me something of value
- it loaded me up with ideas for projects, speeches, blogs and opportunities
- it provided new links and information avenues
- it amazed and inspired, shared and encouraged, promised and delivered, and yes, even brought me to my feet on two occasions
- it had me wondering, "What if ...?"
My guess is that every person in that room on Thursday approached and then walked away from TEDx Manitoba with something unique. Certainly, they'll be motivated to aim higher or differently, or to continue down the path they are already on. And I suspect they'll also reflect on the inspiring speakers, the passionate organisers, the outstanding volunteers, the smooth running of events, the superb location, the fabulous food, and the idea of a repeat performance in 2013!
For sure, I'll be vying for an invite next year. But for now, it's back to bringing my own projects into the light of day and drawing all manner of inspiration from all and sundry on TED stages everywhere.
What a day! Thanks, everyone!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Dear Clavius Dell Andronicus
And so my Facebook posting read:
And by the end of the day, not only did I have lots and lots of work to show for my efforts, but I also didn't have a single email or Facebook response - or phone call, for that matter - until late in the afternoon.
Seems that by distancing myself from Clavius, I ceased to exist for the entire technological world. Might have to try that again - certainly makes for a very productive day!
Dear Clavius Dell Andronicus, you know I love you, but you are too much of a distraction. So, I've decided to turn you off and go work somewhere else today. I might need one of your files at some point, but for the most part, I am reverting to my pencil and paper days, and relying on my own resources. Don't feel slighted. I still love you, and you know I won't be able to stay away forever. If you're at a loss for something to do, why not take a leaf out of my digital experience and read the online news, or FB with some e-friends, or take a virtual vacation? Just a few ideas that are guaranteed to quickly pass the time. For sure, the break will do the both of us some good, so enjoy. Later, mate. Signed, me!
And by the end of the day, not only did I have lots and lots of work to show for my efforts, but I also didn't have a single email or Facebook response - or phone call, for that matter - until late in the afternoon.
Seems that by distancing myself from Clavius, I ceased to exist for the entire technological world. Might have to try that again - certainly makes for a very productive day!
Monday, January 30, 2012
Every man and his dog ...
Yes, this also relates to every woman and her dog, but I'm making a point here.
Last Saturday morning I was up early for a meeting. Not as early as during the week, but early for a weekend. Anyway, got dressed, got all my stuff ready, had breakfast, and headed out to the car.
It wasn't snowing or windy or particularly cold, so I wasn't rushing. I looked around, at least I thought I looked around, and then piled me and my stuff into the car. It's possible that I wasn't all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but I did think I had my wits about me.
So, it was quite the surprise, after reversing into the back lane, that I spied a man and his dog walking in the opposite direction to which I was now headed. I hadn't seen them before I got in the car and they weren't that far away from me - nor were they wildly gesticulating. I looked up to see my guy calmly waving goodbye from the window - no panic there, and the man and his dog seemed fine. I assumed all was well and drove away.
When I got home, I asked about the man and his dog. Apparently, unbeknown to me, I had almost squished them into the neighbour's back fence. "What?" I responded incredulously. Yep, they had seemingly come out of nowhere and, as was their right (although quite possibly not the best decision they could have made), continued to walk behind my car as I was reversing, hence their almost squishedness. "But I never saw them, not before I got in the car, and not while I was reversing. Only when I was in the back lane." My declaration drew a gently smiled, "Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!"
And well deserved. I felt bad that I had been blind to the goings on in my own back lane. I like dogs, people, too, and I was particularly concerned that I might have traumatised the beautiful black lab, which, by the way, I had never seen before in our neighbourhood, or perhaps a different neighbourhood altogether.
Hopefully, the man understood my sleepy state and didn't simply label me a thoughtless or careless driver. And if I see him again walking his dog at 8:10 am, I will be sure to apologise, although I suspect they've seen the error of my ways and are now traversing some other part of our neighbourhood.
My point is that at the end, and the start, of the day, every man and woman and his or her dog should be free to walk safely down our back lane. I, for one, will be sure to double and triple check so I don't ever again squish any unsuspecting traveller into our neighbour's fence.
My other point is that it’s tempting to judge others too quickly without knowing their intent or their mindset. Sometimes it’s all a simple mistake or a misunderstanding. I hope that the man and his dog presumed exactly that, and there’s no need for me to apologise for anything.
Last Saturday morning I was up early for a meeting. Not as early as during the week, but early for a weekend. Anyway, got dressed, got all my stuff ready, had breakfast, and headed out to the car.
It wasn't snowing or windy or particularly cold, so I wasn't rushing. I looked around, at least I thought I looked around, and then piled me and my stuff into the car. It's possible that I wasn't all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but I did think I had my wits about me.
So, it was quite the surprise, after reversing into the back lane, that I spied a man and his dog walking in the opposite direction to which I was now headed. I hadn't seen them before I got in the car and they weren't that far away from me - nor were they wildly gesticulating. I looked up to see my guy calmly waving goodbye from the window - no panic there, and the man and his dog seemed fine. I assumed all was well and drove away.
When I got home, I asked about the man and his dog. Apparently, unbeknown to me, I had almost squished them into the neighbour's back fence. "What?" I responded incredulously. Yep, they had seemingly come out of nowhere and, as was their right (although quite possibly not the best decision they could have made), continued to walk behind my car as I was reversing, hence their almost squishedness. "But I never saw them, not before I got in the car, and not while I was reversing. Only when I was in the back lane." My declaration drew a gently smiled, "Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!"
And well deserved. I felt bad that I had been blind to the goings on in my own back lane. I like dogs, people, too, and I was particularly concerned that I might have traumatised the beautiful black lab, which, by the way, I had never seen before in our neighbourhood, or perhaps a different neighbourhood altogether.
Hopefully, the man understood my sleepy state and didn't simply label me a thoughtless or careless driver. And if I see him again walking his dog at 8:10 am, I will be sure to apologise, although I suspect they've seen the error of my ways and are now traversing some other part of our neighbourhood.
My point is that at the end, and the start, of the day, every man and woman and his or her dog should be free to walk safely down our back lane. I, for one, will be sure to double and triple check so I don't ever again squish any unsuspecting traveller into our neighbour's fence.
My other point is that it’s tempting to judge others too quickly without knowing their intent or their mindset. Sometimes it’s all a simple mistake or a misunderstanding. I hope that the man and his dog presumed exactly that, and there’s no need for me to apologise for anything.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
It's just a car
The time has come. I knew it would. Every four years. And still I'm sad.
I've had a long and interesting history with cars. My almost first was a red Mazda 808 that never came to live with me because a freak hailstorm smashed it to smithereens before I even got the keys.
I then waited six weeks for my first official car, another red Mazda 808 that stayed with me for 13 years until I shamelessly and inexplicably traded it in for a new Holden (Aussie car). Got $5,500 on the trade-in, the same price I paid all those years before.
Silly me. That 808 was a keeper, but I was seduced by the new, white, slightly larger Holden, which I sold for much less than I paid for it when, two years later, I moved to Canada.
Here in this winter wonderland, I leased a metallic blue Ford Aspire. Nifty little vehicle that was written off two years into our relationship when it ran into the back of a truck. Oops!
After two more years of renting cars on occasional weekends, the decision was made to lease another vehicle - for four years. Other than needing one to get to and from my freelance contracts, we had plans that required access to transportation on a more regular basis.
Several brands and models were up for consideration, and after much test driving and viewing from rear windows, we finally settled on a Honda CR-V. We, as in the two humans and the two canines - definitely a family decision. And what followed was a love affair with the 2000, 2004 and 2008 models - black, black, and glacier blue, respectively.
The 2008 is the one Sydney liked the most, although not for the colour, since dogs are colour blind. She wasn't all that fussed about the other cars as a result of two bundles of newspapers falling on her while we were delivering the local paper when she was only a young pup. She wasn't hurt, just spooked, but it scarred her car days for life.
Until this one. For some reason, she was relaxed and content, happily sitting and watching the world pass by. Quite the contrary to her usual tense, anxious, pacey and chatty demeanour. Tragically, Sydney died one month after we got the car, and driving it for a while afterward was heartbreaking.
But now the time has come. That lease is up. A new car is on the horizon. And although I've tried to dismiss my angst associated with the imminent separation by saying to anyone who will listen, "It's just a car", I know in my bones that it's not ... and I think I know why.
I think that at the end of the day, it's both just a car and more than.
True, the car has been good to us. Never stranding us on the roadside, never breaking down in the dead of night or the dead of winter, never buckling under the weight of all that home reno stuff, always keeping us safe and warm while taking us from point A to point B, and always looking good in the process.
But it's also been an integral part of our lives for the past four years. The comings and goings, the ups and downs, the people we've met, the places we've been, all the shopping, the presents, the dreams, the work and the adventures. And yes, there is a tinge of sadness that it was the car Sydney liked the most.
Thank you and farewell, 2008.
So, now it's time to embrace and experience another four years in a different car. This time a luxurious grey Honda CR-V 2012. Smart, sassy, safe, technologically advanced, and equipped with bonus and practical bits and pieces. Yep, looking forward to another great relationship.
As a footnote, we are thinking about extending these four years into a lifetime by making this one our own from here on in. That decision will be made in 2016, and who knows where we'll be then and what we'll be doing, or who else will be part of our more than.
I've had a long and interesting history with cars. My almost first was a red Mazda 808 that never came to live with me because a freak hailstorm smashed it to smithereens before I even got the keys.
I then waited six weeks for my first official car, another red Mazda 808 that stayed with me for 13 years until I shamelessly and inexplicably traded it in for a new Holden (Aussie car). Got $5,500 on the trade-in, the same price I paid all those years before.
Silly me. That 808 was a keeper, but I was seduced by the new, white, slightly larger Holden, which I sold for much less than I paid for it when, two years later, I moved to Canada.
Here in this winter wonderland, I leased a metallic blue Ford Aspire. Nifty little vehicle that was written off two years into our relationship when it ran into the back of a truck. Oops!
After two more years of renting cars on occasional weekends, the decision was made to lease another vehicle - for four years. Other than needing one to get to and from my freelance contracts, we had plans that required access to transportation on a more regular basis.
Several brands and models were up for consideration, and after much test driving and viewing from rear windows, we finally settled on a Honda CR-V. We, as in the two humans and the two canines - definitely a family decision. And what followed was a love affair with the 2000, 2004 and 2008 models - black, black, and glacier blue, respectively.
The 2008 is the one Sydney liked the most, although not for the colour, since dogs are colour blind. She wasn't all that fussed about the other cars as a result of two bundles of newspapers falling on her while we were delivering the local paper when she was only a young pup. She wasn't hurt, just spooked, but it scarred her car days for life.
Until this one. For some reason, she was relaxed and content, happily sitting and watching the world pass by. Quite the contrary to her usual tense, anxious, pacey and chatty demeanour. Tragically, Sydney died one month after we got the car, and driving it for a while afterward was heartbreaking.
But now the time has come. That lease is up. A new car is on the horizon. And although I've tried to dismiss my angst associated with the imminent separation by saying to anyone who will listen, "It's just a car", I know in my bones that it's not ... and I think I know why.
I think that at the end of the day, it's both just a car and more than.
True, the car has been good to us. Never stranding us on the roadside, never breaking down in the dead of night or the dead of winter, never buckling under the weight of all that home reno stuff, always keeping us safe and warm while taking us from point A to point B, and always looking good in the process.
But it's also been an integral part of our lives for the past four years. The comings and goings, the ups and downs, the people we've met, the places we've been, all the shopping, the presents, the dreams, the work and the adventures. And yes, there is a tinge of sadness that it was the car Sydney liked the most.
Thank you and farewell, 2008.
So, now it's time to embrace and experience another four years in a different car. This time a luxurious grey Honda CR-V 2012. Smart, sassy, safe, technologically advanced, and equipped with bonus and practical bits and pieces. Yep, looking forward to another great relationship.
As a footnote, we are thinking about extending these four years into a lifetime by making this one our own from here on in. That decision will be made in 2016, and who knows where we'll be then and what we'll be doing, or who else will be part of our more than.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Zip it!
Man, it's brisk out there today, but we've been spoiled. After enjoying several weeks of way-above-normal temperatures, we are now fully immersed in below zero double digits. More the norm than the other stuff, so no big surprise, and it's only lasting for a week and a bit until the minus single digits return, albeit temporarily.
All of which is fine with me. I am okay with whatever weather we get and can cope quite nicely with the real cold. As I've always said, the key to happy warmth is 50% clothes and 50% attitude. Got both? Warm as toast.
As a cold-weather girl who loves to rug up and experience the wild whims of winter, I pride myself on my sense of attire for the chilly season, choosing practical and comfortable over fashionable and underdressed when it comes to guarding myself against the elements - although if I can look fashionable as well, then bonus!
Preparation is simple. Before leaving the house, take a moment to look out the window, read the paper, listen to the radio and tv weather reports, check the internet, stick your arm outside for a few seconds, or/and all of the above. Then select the applicable number, design and R-factor of coats, gloves, scarves, toques, boots, and multiple layers, although not necessarily in that order.
Commonsensical, don't you think?
So, why, when it's so brisk outside, do a significant percentage of the 'choosing' population opt for decidedly non-winter-like combinations? I say 'choosing' population because not everyone has a choice in such matters. And for those who do, why wouldn't they gear up in an effort to keep the winter elements at bay? Trying to look cool, perhaps? Tough? Don't want the toque to flatten their hair?
Doesn't matter to me, of course, except when they act all surprised and feel compelled to publicly and cursatorially complain about how cold it is. No toque, ears freezing ... um, hello?! Coat not done up, feeling windchilled ... well, duh?! No gloves, fingers frostbitten ... seriously?! No boots, can't feel your feet ... what did you expect?!
We all like to complain about the weather, even though we know it's coming, we know what to expect, and we can't do anything about it anyway. But if we choose to underdress, we really ought to refrain from walking around and telling anyone who doesn't want to hear it about how "F@!#^%& cold!" it is out there.
Zip it, people! And I'm not just talking about your coats!
All of which is fine with me. I am okay with whatever weather we get and can cope quite nicely with the real cold. As I've always said, the key to happy warmth is 50% clothes and 50% attitude. Got both? Warm as toast.
As a cold-weather girl who loves to rug up and experience the wild whims of winter, I pride myself on my sense of attire for the chilly season, choosing practical and comfortable over fashionable and underdressed when it comes to guarding myself against the elements - although if I can look fashionable as well, then bonus!
Preparation is simple. Before leaving the house, take a moment to look out the window, read the paper, listen to the radio and tv weather reports, check the internet, stick your arm outside for a few seconds, or/and all of the above. Then select the applicable number, design and R-factor of coats, gloves, scarves, toques, boots, and multiple layers, although not necessarily in that order.
Commonsensical, don't you think?
So, why, when it's so brisk outside, do a significant percentage of the 'choosing' population opt for decidedly non-winter-like combinations? I say 'choosing' population because not everyone has a choice in such matters. And for those who do, why wouldn't they gear up in an effort to keep the winter elements at bay? Trying to look cool, perhaps? Tough? Don't want the toque to flatten their hair?
Doesn't matter to me, of course, except when they act all surprised and feel compelled to publicly and cursatorially complain about how cold it is. No toque, ears freezing ... um, hello?! Coat not done up, feeling windchilled ... well, duh?! No gloves, fingers frostbitten ... seriously?! No boots, can't feel your feet ... what did you expect?!
We all like to complain about the weather, even though we know it's coming, we know what to expect, and we can't do anything about it anyway. But if we choose to underdress, we really ought to refrain from walking around and telling anyone who doesn't want to hear it about how "F@!#^%& cold!" it is out there.
Zip it, people! And I'm not just talking about your coats!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sweet resolve
Never been a fan of new year resolutions. My philosophy is if you need to change something, change it. Don't wait for some arbitrary resolution start date.
Of course, I speak from a position of resolution failure, having gone down that particular road a handful of times before and never stayed the course. As a result, my only resolve thus far has been to never resolve again.
So, it was quite the surprise when I accidentally made a resolution on January 1st this year, and even more of a surprise that one week later, I'm still on track.
It all began when, over a very busy two-week period trapped at my desk, I somehow embarked on a full-blown addiction to chocolate, as evidenced by an appointment with the food of the gods at 9:15 every weekday morning. (9:15? Go figure.)
I'd be working away, totally focused on the task at hand, when suddenly, I was out in the kitchen, breaking off a row or three of some delicious hazelnut or plain dairy milk Australian-made Cadbury chocolate, many blocks of which I picked up on my last trip down under.
When I finally realised what was happening, I stopped to wonder if I might be in trouble - or, more importantly, if my stash of chocolate was destined for the endangered supply list.
Clearly something had to be done, and lo, a resolution was made.
Motivated by the fact that I was already taking a break from coffee (the coffee maker up and died on Boxing Day and is still unreplaced) and sugar and half 'n half (both of which I only have in coffee), I made the difficult yet obvious resolution to refrain from consuming chocolate - but only from Monday to Friday. Even resoluters need a reprieve.
By the way, that time frame was inspired by my friend Miriam who is already leading the way by making desserts a weekend-only option. Good one, Miriam!
Now, this has nothing to do with counting the calories denied - I'm way too lazy to bother with that! But given the circumstances and the original source of my addiction, I think that by restricting chocolate, as well as dessert, half 'n half, sugar and coffee to the weekend only (even when the coffee maker is replaced), I might be onto a good thing - for me, my wallet, and my chocolate stash.
I'm still not a fan of resolutions, but I have to say that I like this one, which, with a bit of resolve, has the potential to stay the course for the long term and steer me clear of 300 gm (at least) of chocolate, 2+ desserts, 10 or more cups of coffee, approximately 250 ml of half 'n half, and 20 or more teaspoons of white sugar every week. Imagine what that will equal in a year from now.
And despite my current success, I'm not likely to start down the "must make new year resolutions" road. However, if I think of any others that will save me money, not hurt at all, not require a lot of sacrifice, and perhaps inspire others to follow suit with their own consumer challenge, then it's quite possible I might at least consider the possibility - although I suspect I will need some chocolate to help in that consideration.
Of course, I speak from a position of resolution failure, having gone down that particular road a handful of times before and never stayed the course. As a result, my only resolve thus far has been to never resolve again.
So, it was quite the surprise when I accidentally made a resolution on January 1st this year, and even more of a surprise that one week later, I'm still on track.
It all began when, over a very busy two-week period trapped at my desk, I somehow embarked on a full-blown addiction to chocolate, as evidenced by an appointment with the food of the gods at 9:15 every weekday morning. (9:15? Go figure.)
I'd be working away, totally focused on the task at hand, when suddenly, I was out in the kitchen, breaking off a row or three of some delicious hazelnut or plain dairy milk Australian-made Cadbury chocolate, many blocks of which I picked up on my last trip down under.
When I finally realised what was happening, I stopped to wonder if I might be in trouble - or, more importantly, if my stash of chocolate was destined for the endangered supply list.
Clearly something had to be done, and lo, a resolution was made.
Motivated by the fact that I was already taking a break from coffee (the coffee maker up and died on Boxing Day and is still unreplaced) and sugar and half 'n half (both of which I only have in coffee), I made the difficult yet obvious resolution to refrain from consuming chocolate - but only from Monday to Friday. Even resoluters need a reprieve.
By the way, that time frame was inspired by my friend Miriam who is already leading the way by making desserts a weekend-only option. Good one, Miriam!
Now, this has nothing to do with counting the calories denied - I'm way too lazy to bother with that! But given the circumstances and the original source of my addiction, I think that by restricting chocolate, as well as dessert, half 'n half, sugar and coffee to the weekend only (even when the coffee maker is replaced), I might be onto a good thing - for me, my wallet, and my chocolate stash.
I'm still not a fan of resolutions, but I have to say that I like this one, which, with a bit of resolve, has the potential to stay the course for the long term and steer me clear of 300 gm (at least) of chocolate, 2+ desserts, 10 or more cups of coffee, approximately 250 ml of half 'n half, and 20 or more teaspoons of white sugar every week. Imagine what that will equal in a year from now.
And despite my current success, I'm not likely to start down the "must make new year resolutions" road. However, if I think of any others that will save me money, not hurt at all, not require a lot of sacrifice, and perhaps inspire others to follow suit with their own consumer challenge, then it's quite possible I might at least consider the possibility - although I suspect I will need some chocolate to help in that consideration.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
"Tick tock!"
While watching Neverland on Space over Christmas last year, I was reminded of the famous line from Hook - the movie with Dustin Hoffman in the starring role. And for some reason, it inspired me to check all the clocks in our house and see what time they were tick tocking.
I started with the timer on the television, which said 7:16 pm. And compared to that, not one of the timing devices in our house, upstairs or down, has the same time as another.
In the kitchen/back room area, the stove clock, microwave clock and clock radio were out by +4, +3 and +9 minutes, respectively. In my office, the cardboard clock from Ikea was out by -2, the cell (mobile) phone by +2, and the computer by -4 minutes. (BTW, I thought computers got their time from the mysterious world of gremlin timekeepers that peddle their wares in little boxes somewhere in the universe. Or is that monkeys? Hmmm.) Upstairs, the clock radio was out by +25 minutes - how does that happen? Time creep, perhaps? Or our combined psychological powers driving the clock to tick tock faster so we can get up earlier in the morning?
Of course, the exactness of the time differences did depend somewhat on how quickly I got from one timing device to another, but you get the gist of the fact that time is out of whack in our place. And I got to wondering what it all meant?
Actually, it doesn't mean anything at all. Except for the fact that we have somehow, and apparently unbeknown to us, managed to survive very well thank you with a variety of time settings that are working together to successfully direct us to our respective commitments with plenty of time to spare. As far back as we can remember, we have not been late for anything - not for work, or movies, or breakfast, or meetings, or anything else we like to do.
So, the point of this blog? None whatsoever. Just an interesting observation about how time moves when you aren't actually watching it.
Now, back to work. Tick tock!
I started with the timer on the television, which said 7:16 pm. And compared to that, not one of the timing devices in our house, upstairs or down, has the same time as another.
In the kitchen/back room area, the stove clock, microwave clock and clock radio were out by +4, +3 and +9 minutes, respectively. In my office, the cardboard clock from Ikea was out by -2, the cell (mobile) phone by +2, and the computer by -4 minutes. (BTW, I thought computers got their time from the mysterious world of gremlin timekeepers that peddle their wares in little boxes somewhere in the universe. Or is that monkeys? Hmmm.) Upstairs, the clock radio was out by +25 minutes - how does that happen? Time creep, perhaps? Or our combined psychological powers driving the clock to tick tock faster so we can get up earlier in the morning?
Of course, the exactness of the time differences did depend somewhat on how quickly I got from one timing device to another, but you get the gist of the fact that time is out of whack in our place. And I got to wondering what it all meant?
Actually, it doesn't mean anything at all. Except for the fact that we have somehow, and apparently unbeknown to us, managed to survive very well thank you with a variety of time settings that are working together to successfully direct us to our respective commitments with plenty of time to spare. As far back as we can remember, we have not been late for anything - not for work, or movies, or breakfast, or meetings, or anything else we like to do.
So, the point of this blog? None whatsoever. Just an interesting observation about how time moves when you aren't actually watching it.
Now, back to work. Tick tock!
Sunday, December 25, 2011
A Winnipeg Christmas story
Early one morning right before Christmas, I awoke to the sound of angels singing. I stayed quiet for a few minutes, searching the darkness for possibilities and letting my eyes adjust to the immediate surrounds.
“Nothing here to explain the sound,” I thought to myself, and began to settle back toward sleep. Then I heard it again. The sound of angels singing. Without further ado, and as quiet as a mouse, I climbed out of bed and went to the window.
Down below in the street, all was calm, all was bright, all was snowy, all was white. The only things on the sidewalk were tiny critter prints, and there was a gentle fog that barely hid the streetlights and neighbourhood decorations. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year.
I was about to give up and go back to bed when a car came into view. Now, I knew Santa usually arrived by sleigh, and even if he had changed his mode of transportation, he was a tad early, so this was clearly someone else. Confident that I would not be seen from my perch, I peered through the frosted pane and watched and listened for what I expected would come.
The car stopped right in front of our house, and a moment later, a man climbed out the driver’s side. Although inside the car was probably warm and outside probably not, he left his door slightly ajar, allowing the most beautiful sound to fill the air. “Oh, Holy Night.”
With our morning paper in hand, he walked all the way to our door and back again, accompanied by the sound of angels singing. When he climbed into his car and closed the door, I could still hear, not the angels, but him finishing off the chorus in the safety and solitude of his own company.
The silence that followed gave me pause for consideration.
I watched a lone squirrel scamper across the neighbour’s snowy drive, and then looked around our room, taking note of everything cosy and warm.
I couldn’t help but think how lucky we are to have a roof over our heads, protecting us from the cold, in a country where someone brings you a paper every morning. I felt truly blessed.
Like a cheeky Cheshire cat, I felt a yawn, a stretch, and then a grin coming on. I looked once more outside our window. Our wintry neck of the woods was still mostly fast asleep, but the sun would soon be up, the snow would stop, the moon would disappear along with the fog, and morning would stir us into our day.
I climbed into bed, and as I laid my head on the pillow, I heard a familiar sound — “Oh, Holy Night” — but it was neither the angels nor the newspaper carrier I heard singing. It was me. And with that realisation, I lulled myself off to sleep as winter waited patiently outside.
“Nothing here to explain the sound,” I thought to myself, and began to settle back toward sleep. Then I heard it again. The sound of angels singing. Without further ado, and as quiet as a mouse, I climbed out of bed and went to the window.
Down below in the street, all was calm, all was bright, all was snowy, all was white. The only things on the sidewalk were tiny critter prints, and there was a gentle fog that barely hid the streetlights and neighbourhood decorations. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year.
I was about to give up and go back to bed when a car came into view. Now, I knew Santa usually arrived by sleigh, and even if he had changed his mode of transportation, he was a tad early, so this was clearly someone else. Confident that I would not be seen from my perch, I peered through the frosted pane and watched and listened for what I expected would come.
The car stopped right in front of our house, and a moment later, a man climbed out the driver’s side. Although inside the car was probably warm and outside probably not, he left his door slightly ajar, allowing the most beautiful sound to fill the air. “Oh, Holy Night.”
With our morning paper in hand, he walked all the way to our door and back again, accompanied by the sound of angels singing. When he climbed into his car and closed the door, I could still hear, not the angels, but him finishing off the chorus in the safety and solitude of his own company.
The silence that followed gave me pause for consideration.
I watched a lone squirrel scamper across the neighbour’s snowy drive, and then looked around our room, taking note of everything cosy and warm.
I couldn’t help but think how lucky we are to have a roof over our heads, protecting us from the cold, in a country where someone brings you a paper every morning. I felt truly blessed.
Like a cheeky Cheshire cat, I felt a yawn, a stretch, and then a grin coming on. I looked once more outside our window. Our wintry neck of the woods was still mostly fast asleep, but the sun would soon be up, the snow would stop, the moon would disappear along with the fog, and morning would stir us into our day.
I climbed into bed, and as I laid my head on the pillow, I heard a familiar sound — “Oh, Holy Night” — but it was neither the angels nor the newspaper carrier I heard singing. It was me. And with that realisation, I lulled myself off to sleep as winter waited patiently outside.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Why I love winter
In case you were wondering ....
It 'fit's in with my lifestyle. Plenty of opportunity to shovel and sweep, scrape the windscreens, walk in a wonderland, and stave off the results of too much eating, slothing and lounging.
It makes me feel more charitable. I think of those who find it more difficult to navigate the ice and the snow and the very chilly conditions. I think I'm actually nicer to people this time of year, and that sets the tone for the rest of the year.
It cleans everything up. Junk and rubbish left lying around, doggie poo that owners won't clean up, derelict in all its multiple forms, and people who should have curfews are somehow invisible, or white, and we forget about them - for a while, at least.
The clothes are amazing! Stylish coats, colourful toques, toasty-warm gloves, gorgeous boots, long comfy scarves, thick jumpers (sweaters), long skirts and fabulous pants. I'd wear them all year round if I could.
There's always the chance of a snow day. I've only ever been snowed-in once - and I chose to go outside to video and photograph the blizzard. Duh! Pining for a day or three when I can stay inside and do nothing except read, watch and relax.
Family back home think I'm nuts - but now they have a new reason. Well, it is hard for them to consider minus 30, or indeed minus anything, as fun and enjoyable when they are used to plus double digits for most of their year.
It makes me less homesick. It's the only season I don't experience back home, unless I head to the Snowy Mountains in August, so I know I am away from family and friends, and I'm somehow okay with that. Not so much in spring, summer and fall.
If there's enough of it often enough, then re-meeting neighbours in the spring is a wonderful surprise! Enough said.
It means Christmas is either coming or going. Personally, I like both. The anticipation and the festivities are thrilling, the opportunity to share good wishes with family and friends here and there is heartwarming, and the lamb roast on Christmas day is worth surviving all that rush. On the other side, the slower pace is appreciated, the return to work is welcome 'cause I got some interesting stuff on the go and am keen to get back to it, and the knowledge that there are at least three months of winter to go is exciting and exhilarating.
I get to say thanks ... to each and every one of you for so many reasons. Being my friend, my family, my colleague, my neighbour, my mentor, my partner, my sounding board, my whatever I need when I need it. You for me, and me for you. It works both ways, you know.
And with that, I wish a very merry Christmas to you and yours, safe travels wherever you may go, and all the very best for the new year.
And here's to winter in all its glory for as long as it deems us worthy of its blessings!
It 'fit's in with my lifestyle. Plenty of opportunity to shovel and sweep, scrape the windscreens, walk in a wonderland, and stave off the results of too much eating, slothing and lounging.
It makes me feel more charitable. I think of those who find it more difficult to navigate the ice and the snow and the very chilly conditions. I think I'm actually nicer to people this time of year, and that sets the tone for the rest of the year.
It cleans everything up. Junk and rubbish left lying around, doggie poo that owners won't clean up, derelict in all its multiple forms, and people who should have curfews are somehow invisible, or white, and we forget about them - for a while, at least.
The clothes are amazing! Stylish coats, colourful toques, toasty-warm gloves, gorgeous boots, long comfy scarves, thick jumpers (sweaters), long skirts and fabulous pants. I'd wear them all year round if I could.
There's always the chance of a snow day. I've only ever been snowed-in once - and I chose to go outside to video and photograph the blizzard. Duh! Pining for a day or three when I can stay inside and do nothing except read, watch and relax.
Family back home think I'm nuts - but now they have a new reason. Well, it is hard for them to consider minus 30, or indeed minus anything, as fun and enjoyable when they are used to plus double digits for most of their year.
It makes me less homesick. It's the only season I don't experience back home, unless I head to the Snowy Mountains in August, so I know I am away from family and friends, and I'm somehow okay with that. Not so much in spring, summer and fall.
If there's enough of it often enough, then re-meeting neighbours in the spring is a wonderful surprise! Enough said.
It means Christmas is either coming or going. Personally, I like both. The anticipation and the festivities are thrilling, the opportunity to share good wishes with family and friends here and there is heartwarming, and the lamb roast on Christmas day is worth surviving all that rush. On the other side, the slower pace is appreciated, the return to work is welcome 'cause I got some interesting stuff on the go and am keen to get back to it, and the knowledge that there are at least three months of winter to go is exciting and exhilarating.
I get to say thanks ... to each and every one of you for so many reasons. Being my friend, my family, my colleague, my neighbour, my mentor, my partner, my sounding board, my whatever I need when I need it. You for me, and me for you. It works both ways, you know.
And with that, I wish a very merry Christmas to you and yours, safe travels wherever you may go, and all the very best for the new year.
And here's to winter in all its glory for as long as it deems us worthy of its blessings!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Going off the rails
The past week has been interesting, to say the least. Busy, busy, busy, and we are still nine days out from Christmas. My shopping is essentially done and the lamb roast is still a mere temptation, but my rule of no late mid-week nights, or only one if absolutely necessary, has proved to be my undoing and sent me completely off the rails.
No need to go through each day, but suffice to say it got out of control on Monday and went downhill from there. Too many meetings, too many appointments, and three very late nights that left me craving for anonymity and my "no" voice.
It wasn't so much the "do" list that did me in, but the accompanying, or perhaps more exactly, the resulting failure to eat - properly, and in some cases, at all.
Before I go any further, let's be clear. I'm not a fan of diets, and I eat lots of chocolate, love desserts, and consume coffee on a regular basis. But, I have made a concerted effort of late to eat more fruit and veggies, and drink more water and tea. Yeah, I know; sounds boring already.
Anyway, as the saying goes, you don't miss something until you go without ... or, whatever. And I have to say that living on fries, lattes and Maltesers - not all at once, but the easiest fast-food options available at the time - made me miss oranges, apples and blueberry tea more than I could have imagined.
So, today, being a Friday free of anything on my schedule, saw me back on the rails - especially after I caught up on some of that long-lost sleep. And I feel quite rejuvenated, inspired even, and happy to be missing that interim menu of little substance and only relatively short-term joy.
It's okay to take a different track every now and then, just as long as there's a plan for recovery. For my money, the best thing about going off the rails is living to tell the tale and then getting back on. In fact, I think it should be a periodic requirement - a gift that allows us to consider ourselves with as little judgement as possible.
Can't want to see what the silly season brings and how I navigate my way through it. I have high hopes for success, as long as no one gives me fries, lattes or Maltesers.
It is too early to cook up that lamb roast, honey?
No need to go through each day, but suffice to say it got out of control on Monday and went downhill from there. Too many meetings, too many appointments, and three very late nights that left me craving for anonymity and my "no" voice.
It wasn't so much the "do" list that did me in, but the accompanying, or perhaps more exactly, the resulting failure to eat - properly, and in some cases, at all.
Before I go any further, let's be clear. I'm not a fan of diets, and I eat lots of chocolate, love desserts, and consume coffee on a regular basis. But, I have made a concerted effort of late to eat more fruit and veggies, and drink more water and tea. Yeah, I know; sounds boring already.
Anyway, as the saying goes, you don't miss something until you go without ... or, whatever. And I have to say that living on fries, lattes and Maltesers - not all at once, but the easiest fast-food options available at the time - made me miss oranges, apples and blueberry tea more than I could have imagined.
So, today, being a Friday free of anything on my schedule, saw me back on the rails - especially after I caught up on some of that long-lost sleep. And I feel quite rejuvenated, inspired even, and happy to be missing that interim menu of little substance and only relatively short-term joy.
It's okay to take a different track every now and then, just as long as there's a plan for recovery. For my money, the best thing about going off the rails is living to tell the tale and then getting back on. In fact, I think it should be a periodic requirement - a gift that allows us to consider ourselves with as little judgement as possible.
Can't want to see what the silly season brings and how I navigate my way through it. I have high hopes for success, as long as no one gives me fries, lattes or Maltesers.
It is too early to cook up that lamb roast, honey?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan
For starters, let's confirm a few things. It's porridge, or more precisely, porridge with banana. And yes, it is lunch, not breakfast, although, to be honest, I could eat porridge any time of the day or night, especially if it has banana in it. And not simply on the top, but cooked right along with the porridge. Got that idea while dining at Stella's in Winnipeg - they used to put the banana on the side, but now it's cooked in and, I have to say, is stunningly delicious!
But I digress.
So, why do I eat my lunch out of a saucepan?
1. Easy peasy. Thirty seconds to gather tools and ingredients, three minutes to cook. And if I can do it, anyone can.
2. Less washing up. The saucepan is the only item of note, other than the measuring spoon (which technically only needs to be rinsed) and the eating spoon (which definitely needs to be scrubbed clean for the benefit of future users).
3. Consistent temperature. If you pour porridge from a warm saucepan into a cold bowl, you end up with 'Mama Bear temperature' porridge. And if it's not good enough for Goldilocks, it's not good enough for me. This method guarantees Baby Bear temperature.
4. Time on a budget. Quick and easy to go from stove top to couch, which is where I usually eat my lunch.
5. Budget on a budget. Banana $0.40, milk $0.12, porridge $0.07, water $0.01, satisfaction of a meal well cooked ... priceless!
6. Left hand knows what the right hand is doing. The left hand always holds the saucepan handle, leaving the right hand to operate the stirring spoon, the remote, and the eating spoon - in whatever order is required.
7. Virtually spill proof. Medium-size saucepan, enough porridge for one. So unless I trip on the way in, there is no danger of spillage en route from kitchen to living room. However, from saucepan to mouth is a different matter entirely.
8. High "Mmmm!" factor. Nothing more needs to be said - or added.
No, I'm not the only person in the world who eats out of a saucepan, nor the only one in our house. But I can tell you that once you go down that proverbial road, you, too, will be hooked on the perfect combination of fast, easy, cheap and delicious.
And that, my friends, is why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan.
But I digress.
So, why do I eat my lunch out of a saucepan?
1. Easy peasy. Thirty seconds to gather tools and ingredients, three minutes to cook. And if I can do it, anyone can.
2. Less washing up. The saucepan is the only item of note, other than the measuring spoon (which technically only needs to be rinsed) and the eating spoon (which definitely needs to be scrubbed clean for the benefit of future users).
3. Consistent temperature. If you pour porridge from a warm saucepan into a cold bowl, you end up with 'Mama Bear temperature' porridge. And if it's not good enough for Goldilocks, it's not good enough for me. This method guarantees Baby Bear temperature.
4. Time on a budget. Quick and easy to go from stove top to couch, which is where I usually eat my lunch.
5. Budget on a budget. Banana $0.40, milk $0.12, porridge $0.07, water $0.01, satisfaction of a meal well cooked ... priceless!
6. Left hand knows what the right hand is doing. The left hand always holds the saucepan handle, leaving the right hand to operate the stirring spoon, the remote, and the eating spoon - in whatever order is required.
7. Virtually spill proof. Medium-size saucepan, enough porridge for one. So unless I trip on the way in, there is no danger of spillage en route from kitchen to living room. However, from saucepan to mouth is a different matter entirely.
8. High "Mmmm!" factor. Nothing more needs to be said - or added.
No, I'm not the only person in the world who eats out of a saucepan, nor the only one in our house. But I can tell you that once you go down that proverbial road, you, too, will be hooked on the perfect combination of fast, easy, cheap and delicious.
And that, my friends, is why I eat my lunch out of a saucepan.
Monday, August 8, 2011
On the shelf
Occasionally I notice in the paper important people talking about the books they are currently reading. I think I'm important, although obviously not as well known as the people being asked. So, I decided to start up my own occasional post about books I am reading and why.
At this moment, I am juggling two books. The first is Bill Bryson's "I'm a Stranger Here Myself - Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away". Interesting that it was originally titled "Notes from a Big Country" when it was released in Britain.
Published in 1998, the book is essentially a collection of articles written for The Mail on Sunday's Night and Day supplement during the 1990s, and discusses Bryson's views on relocating to Hanover, New Hampshire, after spending two decades in Britain.
Most people refer to Bryson as a "travel writer". Not such a surprise given his other books, most of which involve travelling in various places. Nevertheless, I prefer to think of him as a real-life revealists - someone who notices the odd and the entertaining and shares it with us in a very revealing way.
My fascination with Bryson began many years ago when I was asked to review "In a Sunburned Country" for the local paper. His humour, wonder and unflagging curiosity caught me off guard, and revealed an Australia that was simultaneously familiar and foreign to me - surprising, given that I lived there for 35 years!
When I came across this current title for a pittance in a discount bookstore, I simply had to find out if all his writing would get me laughing, or only the one about my homeland. Yep, Bryson is one funny guy!
The other book on my shelf is a Aussie read called "Stiff". A fast-paced, fresh and funny murder thriller, Shane Maloney's debut novel "... pokes fun at almost everything, revelling in words that showcase ludicrous events and behaviour" (Library Journal). Main character Murray Whelan's wry social commentaries and ironic observations are natural and hilarious, and surprisingly normal, given everything that's going on.
I have to admit that the only reason I picked up this book is because I saw the fabulously brilliant David Wenham on the front cover. Seems two of Maloney's books have been turned into major telemovies, with Wenham in the lead role. Whatever my reasons, I'm so glad I did because so far, this book is a rollicking ride!
By the way, I'd like to take a moment here to thank Maloney for his "rich, ridiculous and tawdry" voice (Melbourne Age), which kept me riveted and sustained, and distracted me from total boredom during several hours recently spent in a walk-in clinic.
Not sure what I'll read when these two are done, but "Let the Right One In" by Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist definitely looks promising, and Maloney's second book "The Brush Off" is a must.
Anyway, that's what I'm reading, in case anyone's wondering.
At this moment, I am juggling two books. The first is Bill Bryson's "I'm a Stranger Here Myself - Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away". Interesting that it was originally titled "Notes from a Big Country" when it was released in Britain.
Published in 1998, the book is essentially a collection of articles written for The Mail on Sunday's Night and Day supplement during the 1990s, and discusses Bryson's views on relocating to Hanover, New Hampshire, after spending two decades in Britain.
Most people refer to Bryson as a "travel writer". Not such a surprise given his other books, most of which involve travelling in various places. Nevertheless, I prefer to think of him as a real-life revealists - someone who notices the odd and the entertaining and shares it with us in a very revealing way.
My fascination with Bryson began many years ago when I was asked to review "In a Sunburned Country" for the local paper. His humour, wonder and unflagging curiosity caught me off guard, and revealed an Australia that was simultaneously familiar and foreign to me - surprising, given that I lived there for 35 years!
When I came across this current title for a pittance in a discount bookstore, I simply had to find out if all his writing would get me laughing, or only the one about my homeland. Yep, Bryson is one funny guy!
The other book on my shelf is a Aussie read called "Stiff". A fast-paced, fresh and funny murder thriller, Shane Maloney's debut novel "... pokes fun at almost everything, revelling in words that showcase ludicrous events and behaviour" (Library Journal). Main character Murray Whelan's wry social commentaries and ironic observations are natural and hilarious, and surprisingly normal, given everything that's going on.
I have to admit that the only reason I picked up this book is because I saw the fabulously brilliant David Wenham on the front cover. Seems two of Maloney's books have been turned into major telemovies, with Wenham in the lead role. Whatever my reasons, I'm so glad I did because so far, this book is a rollicking ride!
By the way, I'd like to take a moment here to thank Maloney for his "rich, ridiculous and tawdry" voice (Melbourne Age), which kept me riveted and sustained, and distracted me from total boredom during several hours recently spent in a walk-in clinic.
Not sure what I'll read when these two are done, but "Let the Right One In" by Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist definitely looks promising, and Maloney's second book "The Brush Off" is a must.
Anyway, that's what I'm reading, in case anyone's wondering.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Why is everybody so angry?
News last week out of Norway hit hard. So many dead, so much devastation, so much anger.
Days after the attacks, the world was still reeling and Norwegians were still in shock, albeit vowing to rise above the tragedy and stand strong. In the words of Khalid Hussain, a Norwegian of Pakistani descent, "This is a tragedy for the whole of Norway. Whenever anyone tries to harm democracy, it doesn't matter what skin colour you are or what nationality, it's every person's duty to show solidarity."
Given all the mayhem and madness of late, it might seem that the entire world is going completely bonkers. Deadly natural disasters, man-made tragedies, self-inflicted pain, violent intimidation, intrusive and insensitive computer hacking, poisonous name calling, and incessant silliness and juvenile behaviour from our 'leaders'. And that is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
On a local scale, there are other problems that co-exist with us on a daily basis in our communities - drugs, gangs, theft and worse. That's all bad enough, but for me, the real sign of seething unabridged anger is "no rhyme or reason" vandalism. Most crimes are targeted at specific individuals, but vandalism is purely because it's there.
Just last week, one of our neighbours woke up to find his new shed trashed - in Oz, one never trashes a bloke's shed! - and another was confronted by foul language spray painted in big letters on his otherwise well-kept lane-accessed garage. Walk around any neighbourhood, especially on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and you will see evidence of deliberately lit fires, torn-up gardens, pushed-over mailboxes, smashed windows, and an inordinate amount of litter. And that, too, is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
Maybe I'm just a bit sensitive after reading about and personally witnessing so much bad news, but it does seem that people are getting angrier and angrier. Indeed, communication, discussion, common sense, respect for others, respect for self, and - my favourite - counting to 10 have all gone out the window, replaced by yelling and cursing, verbally abusing and insulting, gesticulating and throwing things, fighting and bullying, ignoring and ridiculing. And yes, spray painting garages.
There are so many reasons for and degrees of anger and its delivery, but for those of us who prefer to curse in private, talk things through, think before acting, and paint inside, it's hard to connect with the kind of anger that debilitates, denies and destroys.
I'm not sure why everybody is so angry, but maybe that's something we can talk about when we all calm down a bit. If ever ....
Days after the attacks, the world was still reeling and Norwegians were still in shock, albeit vowing to rise above the tragedy and stand strong. In the words of Khalid Hussain, a Norwegian of Pakistani descent, "This is a tragedy for the whole of Norway. Whenever anyone tries to harm democracy, it doesn't matter what skin colour you are or what nationality, it's every person's duty to show solidarity."
Given all the mayhem and madness of late, it might seem that the entire world is going completely bonkers. Deadly natural disasters, man-made tragedies, self-inflicted pain, violent intimidation, intrusive and insensitive computer hacking, poisonous name calling, and incessant silliness and juvenile behaviour from our 'leaders'. And that is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
On a local scale, there are other problems that co-exist with us on a daily basis in our communities - drugs, gangs, theft and worse. That's all bad enough, but for me, the real sign of seething unabridged anger is "no rhyme or reason" vandalism. Most crimes are targeted at specific individuals, but vandalism is purely because it's there.
Just last week, one of our neighbours woke up to find his new shed trashed - in Oz, one never trashes a bloke's shed! - and another was confronted by foul language spray painted in big letters on his otherwise well-kept lane-accessed garage. Walk around any neighbourhood, especially on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and you will see evidence of deliberately lit fires, torn-up gardens, pushed-over mailboxes, smashed windows, and an inordinate amount of litter. And that, too, is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
Maybe I'm just a bit sensitive after reading about and personally witnessing so much bad news, but it does seem that people are getting angrier and angrier. Indeed, communication, discussion, common sense, respect for others, respect for self, and - my favourite - counting to 10 have all gone out the window, replaced by yelling and cursing, verbally abusing and insulting, gesticulating and throwing things, fighting and bullying, ignoring and ridiculing. And yes, spray painting garages.
There are so many reasons for and degrees of anger and its delivery, but for those of us who prefer to curse in private, talk things through, think before acting, and paint inside, it's hard to connect with the kind of anger that debilitates, denies and destroys.
I'm not sure why everybody is so angry, but maybe that's something we can talk about when we all calm down a bit. If ever ....