I never thought the day would come when my skirts were too long. I've listened to my mother complain about the brevity of my skirts for most of my life.
But there I was in a wee sundress Saturday night, at the 'buck n doe' for one of my nieces, my well-above-the-knee skirt about a foot longer than the skirts and shorts worn by her girlfriends and bridesmaids. I was actually a little bit nervous in case the girls started dancing, moved too much and revealed more than they intended. However, perhaps the possibility of letting it all hang out was their point. After all, their contemporaries and fashion guideposts are Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton et al. and while they may not be able to point out Brazil on a map, they certainly know how to ask for a Brazilian.
Killer shoes, though. The girls at this shindig were evenly split between sparkly flip-flops and awesomely high gladiator pumps of every color. I noticed that even as skirt lengths go up and down, there are some fashion tips that hold true now, just like they did in the 90s. Here's one: white pumps look like canoes on your feet, even if you're a size three. Add a hidden platform and make the white patent, and you've got yourself a war canoe there, sister!
But again, maybe that was the point.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
May 28, 2010- What's in Your Trash Bag?
What does a cancelled landfill project in Simcoe County have to do with the way you buy your cookies? Maybe more than might be obvious right away.
Site 41, the contentious landfill site in Tiny Township is a dead deal But the fight over it got a lot of people thinking about what we do with our trash and where it comes from.
Of course, we take not only trash but also blue and grey and green bins to the curb, But have you looked at what's really in your garbage bag? I'll bet you about 80 percent of what's in your trash bag is packaging.
Do your cookies really need a clear plastic cover, then a plastic-coated wrapper, followed by little plastic trays inside that hold the cookies in neat rows? Maybe not.
Whose problem is all that packaging? Should we subsidise the companies that make our goods by paying for the landfills full of the packaging, or, if they had to pay for its disposal themselves, would they find a way to reduce what they wrap around their stuff?
Those are some of the questions people in groups like Zero Waste are asking, and they're starting to get some interesting answers. They're groups who've spent time thinking about the garbage we make and how less of it could be put at the curb, if it never makes it to your house.They've been thinking and lobbying and pushing for several years now.
Legislation that's coming to Queen's Park in the next week might be a first step to shift the burden for things like packaging to the people who create it, so you might find site 41 and your Fudgeos to be more connected than you thought.
Site 41, the contentious landfill site in Tiny Township is a dead deal But the fight over it got a lot of people thinking about what we do with our trash and where it comes from.
Of course, we take not only trash but also blue and grey and green bins to the curb, But have you looked at what's really in your garbage bag? I'll bet you about 80 percent of what's in your trash bag is packaging.
Do your cookies really need a clear plastic cover, then a plastic-coated wrapper, followed by little plastic trays inside that hold the cookies in neat rows? Maybe not.
Whose problem is all that packaging? Should we subsidise the companies that make our goods by paying for the landfills full of the packaging, or, if they had to pay for its disposal themselves, would they find a way to reduce what they wrap around their stuff?
Those are some of the questions people in groups like Zero Waste are asking, and they're starting to get some interesting answers. They're groups who've spent time thinking about the garbage we make and how less of it could be put at the curb, if it never makes it to your house.They've been thinking and lobbying and pushing for several years now.
Legislation that's coming to Queen's Park in the next week might be a first step to shift the burden for things like packaging to the people who create it, so you might find site 41 and your Fudgeos to be more connected than you thought.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010- Patios!
Oh, you know you clicked on this because you have an opinion.
Everyone in Collingwood and everyone who has passed through Collingwood and everyone who votes in Collingwood has on opinion on where the patios should go.
And to a man, every single person I have spoken with, with the exception of the chair of the BIA, says the patios on the main street should be next to the building. Oh, and of course, a majority on town council. This is not an attack on the decision made, but merely my observation. Seriously, not one person I've spoken with is in favour of the patios going next to the curb.
I have been repeatedly assured that it will all be fabulous once it's done, and we'll all be the happy beneficiaries of a wonderful streetscape. Certainly, First to Second street looks very fine, indeed.
Man, I sure hope this issue winds up being worth all the chewing, voting and complaining.
Of course, there was an issue about how things were to look in downtown Collingwood just before the last election, if you'll remember. Back then, a lot of people were riled up, too. Similar to the story today, just about everyone I spoke to back then was of the same opinion, failing to understand why town council had made the decision it had. A citizen's group even sprang up around The Issue. The council we have now reversed the previous council's decision, and now we have a gaping hole at a prominent corner. Currently, there's not much water in it, but some people have been filling it with spite.
Let's hope this current row doesn't turn out quite as ugly.
Everyone in Collingwood and everyone who has passed through Collingwood and everyone who votes in Collingwood has on opinion on where the patios should go.
And to a man, every single person I have spoken with, with the exception of the chair of the BIA, says the patios on the main street should be next to the building. Oh, and of course, a majority on town council. This is not an attack on the decision made, but merely my observation. Seriously, not one person I've spoken with is in favour of the patios going next to the curb.
I have been repeatedly assured that it will all be fabulous once it's done, and we'll all be the happy beneficiaries of a wonderful streetscape. Certainly, First to Second street looks very fine, indeed.
Man, I sure hope this issue winds up being worth all the chewing, voting and complaining.
Of course, there was an issue about how things were to look in downtown Collingwood just before the last election, if you'll remember. Back then, a lot of people were riled up, too. Similar to the story today, just about everyone I spoke to back then was of the same opinion, failing to understand why town council had made the decision it had. A citizen's group even sprang up around The Issue. The council we have now reversed the previous council's decision, and now we have a gaping hole at a prominent corner. Currently, there's not much water in it, but some people have been filling it with spite.
Let's hope this current row doesn't turn out quite as ugly.
May 25, 2010- A few simple rules. Guidelines, really...
A few thoughts on 'who does what' (just a preliminary list, and only according to me)
If you take a dog for a walk, it's your job to pick up their poop, even if it's disgusting.
If you take the dishes from the table, it's your job to see they get into the dishwasher.
When you give birth to a child, it's your job to do what's right for the child, even if it's contrary to what's good for you.
When you clean the house, it's your job to dust the baseboards, too.
If you're someone's sweetheart, it's your job sometimes to simply listen, without trying to solve the problem, even if you know for sure you have the answer.
Also if you're someone's sweetheart, it's your job sometimes to just shut up about that same old problem already.
If we all would just follow some of these simple rules, the world would be a happier, tidier, more peaceful place, don't you think?
If you take a dog for a walk, it's your job to pick up their poop, even if it's disgusting.
If you take the dishes from the table, it's your job to see they get into the dishwasher.
When you give birth to a child, it's your job to do what's right for the child, even if it's contrary to what's good for you.
When you clean the house, it's your job to dust the baseboards, too.
If you're someone's sweetheart, it's your job sometimes to simply listen, without trying to solve the problem, even if you know for sure you have the answer.
Also if you're someone's sweetheart, it's your job sometimes to just shut up about that same old problem already.
If we all would just follow some of these simple rules, the world would be a happier, tidier, more peaceful place, don't you think?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010- Being There
One of my dear cousins had a terrible chore to do this spring: emptying the house she grew up in.
She's an only child, so at least there weren't any fights over an inheritance. Her father died quite some time ago, and it's been a couple of years since her mom passed, but she needed to wait to bring herself to start dispersing the house.
In the end, she held an auction, the old-fashioned 'countryside' variety, with tables on the front lawn and a church group offering hot dogs and pop and pie at a lunch table. It must have been a nasty job getting ready: not only dealing with the detritus of two lives and a marriage, but also sorting through her own grief and loss, and in a way, losing her family all over again, as items are discussed and bid on, then scattered to other peoples' homes.
I was there if not to bid on anything, at least to stand near my sweet cousin and just (boy do I hate this far overused phrase) be there for her. Eight other cousins made the trek to the farm for the sale, too, along with every remaining aunt and uncle well enough to travel. It was pretty fun watching two aging aunts, both of whom have a certain level of hearing loss, thinking they were being stealthy as they contemplated certain items at the top of their lungs. "That was Mum's, you know," one of them bellowed, pointing at a sturdy little rectangular glass measuring cup. The other one hollered back, "I remember she kept it in the drawer at the top of that dresser in the old kitchen..."
I had my eye on a few things, and sadly missed out on a gorgeous old 8-cup glass mixing bowl because I was in a laugh-fest with a cousin about an old blue enamel drinking cup we all remembered from the shelf at the top of Grandma's wood cookstove. It was the cup designated for thirsty grandchildren to use on our regular Sunday afternoon visits. It was never washed, just rinsed and put back on the shelf for the next kid to use. There was a chip in the rim that I can feel even now. It turns out, each of us asked our parents about that cup when they went through the divesting process twenty years ago at my grandparents' house. One cousin was texting her sister about it, joking that 'THE CUP" had just sold to a stranger for 2 bucks. We were laughing at how quickly she would get back to us, when I missed my chance and the auctioneer sold 'my' bowl, right into the hands of another cousin! Oh, well, it would have been awkward to have gotten into a bidding war with her, anyway.
Plus, just a few minutes earlier, I had snagged another, very cool glass measuring cup. I had been my grandmother's, and apparently, she stored it in a drawer at the top of a dresser, in the old kitchen.
She's an only child, so at least there weren't any fights over an inheritance. Her father died quite some time ago, and it's been a couple of years since her mom passed, but she needed to wait to bring herself to start dispersing the house.
In the end, she held an auction, the old-fashioned 'countryside' variety, with tables on the front lawn and a church group offering hot dogs and pop and pie at a lunch table. It must have been a nasty job getting ready: not only dealing with the detritus of two lives and a marriage, but also sorting through her own grief and loss, and in a way, losing her family all over again, as items are discussed and bid on, then scattered to other peoples' homes.
I was there if not to bid on anything, at least to stand near my sweet cousin and just (boy do I hate this far overused phrase) be there for her. Eight other cousins made the trek to the farm for the sale, too, along with every remaining aunt and uncle well enough to travel. It was pretty fun watching two aging aunts, both of whom have a certain level of hearing loss, thinking they were being stealthy as they contemplated certain items at the top of their lungs. "That was Mum's, you know," one of them bellowed, pointing at a sturdy little rectangular glass measuring cup. The other one hollered back, "I remember she kept it in the drawer at the top of that dresser in the old kitchen..."
I had my eye on a few things, and sadly missed out on a gorgeous old 8-cup glass mixing bowl because I was in a laugh-fest with a cousin about an old blue enamel drinking cup we all remembered from the shelf at the top of Grandma's wood cookstove. It was the cup designated for thirsty grandchildren to use on our regular Sunday afternoon visits. It was never washed, just rinsed and put back on the shelf for the next kid to use. There was a chip in the rim that I can feel even now. It turns out, each of us asked our parents about that cup when they went through the divesting process twenty years ago at my grandparents' house. One cousin was texting her sister about it, joking that 'THE CUP" had just sold to a stranger for 2 bucks. We were laughing at how quickly she would get back to us, when I missed my chance and the auctioneer sold 'my' bowl, right into the hands of another cousin! Oh, well, it would have been awkward to have gotten into a bidding war with her, anyway.
Plus, just a few minutes earlier, I had snagged another, very cool glass measuring cup. I had been my grandmother's, and apparently, she stored it in a drawer at the top of a dresser, in the old kitchen.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010- Staycation
I'm enjoying an extra-long long weekend this week, using up the vacation time I just didn't manage to take over the last year. I certainly never thought I'd be one of those people forced to take their holidays, but when you love what you do, it's not hard to find several months slipping by.
It's tragic, really, how the weather has turned, leaving me basking in sunshine and 20s, just in time for the week off. Now, don't tell 97.7's Garden Guru, Heather Ritchie, but yesterday, I went ahead and planted the tomatoes I had grown in a sunny south-facing window this spring. I'm pretty sure we're safe from any more freezes. We now enter watering season.
My plans for this week were simple: I was going to read. I was going to sit in my backyard and read the big stack of magazines and books that have been growing and growing on my bedside table. Haven't cracked one yet. First, there was a rather full weekend, then a Toronto visit with a girlfriend for an awesome dinner and much giggling. That was followed by a morning at the St. Lawrence Market, where there are still a few things for sale that I can't get up here; not many any more, but just try to find Wakame for miso soup anywhere "north of nine".
Today, I really will sit down, I swear - just as soon as I return the wrong-sized cushions for our outdoor chairs and replace them with the right-sized ones. Oh, and walk the dog and hang some laundry and move those plants that are crowded by the rhubarb, and while I'm at it, make a rhubarb pie and mow the lawn and .... I think I know why people wanting a rest actually leave town!
Once I finally manage to sit, these are the books I'm planning to finish this week: I Am Hutterite, Making Toast, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Imperfectionists. Two memoirs, two novels. A nice balance. Better get to it.
It's tragic, really, how the weather has turned, leaving me basking in sunshine and 20s, just in time for the week off. Now, don't tell 97.7's Garden Guru, Heather Ritchie, but yesterday, I went ahead and planted the tomatoes I had grown in a sunny south-facing window this spring. I'm pretty sure we're safe from any more freezes. We now enter watering season.
My plans for this week were simple: I was going to read. I was going to sit in my backyard and read the big stack of magazines and books that have been growing and growing on my bedside table. Haven't cracked one yet. First, there was a rather full weekend, then a Toronto visit with a girlfriend for an awesome dinner and much giggling. That was followed by a morning at the St. Lawrence Market, where there are still a few things for sale that I can't get up here; not many any more, but just try to find Wakame for miso soup anywhere "north of nine".
Today, I really will sit down, I swear - just as soon as I return the wrong-sized cushions for our outdoor chairs and replace them with the right-sized ones. Oh, and walk the dog and hang some laundry and move those plants that are crowded by the rhubarb, and while I'm at it, make a rhubarb pie and mow the lawn and .... I think I know why people wanting a rest actually leave town!
Once I finally manage to sit, these are the books I'm planning to finish this week: I Am Hutterite, Making Toast, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Imperfectionists. Two memoirs, two novels. A nice balance. Better get to it.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010- Where the bunnies might be...
I think I might have a clue today to where the Missing Bunnies of Hume Street might be.
As I walked the beloved pooch the other day on the rail-side trail north of Collins street, a fellow dog-walker was still and staring up to the pine trees to the west of the tracks. She had found the Great Horned Owl family that has taken up residence in the area! I have been hearing rumours from the outdoors-minded around here of a developing rookery, but I had seen no evidence, in spite of clear instructions: "On the back of Sproule, just up the trail!"
But there they were, two of 'em and I realize now there's a reason they're named the Great Horned Owl, rather than the decent horned owls, mediocre horned owls or reasonable horned owls; they're enormous.
They don't move much, either, or didn't while I was there, staring. Although I'm pretty sure I got a whiff of bunny when I saw one burp.
As I walked the beloved pooch the other day on the rail-side trail north of Collins street, a fellow dog-walker was still and staring up to the pine trees to the west of the tracks. She had found the Great Horned Owl family that has taken up residence in the area! I have been hearing rumours from the outdoors-minded around here of a developing rookery, but I had seen no evidence, in spite of clear instructions: "On the back of Sproule, just up the trail!"
But there they were, two of 'em and I realize now there's a reason they're named the Great Horned Owl, rather than the decent horned owls, mediocre horned owls or reasonable horned owls; they're enormous.
They don't move much, either, or didn't while I was there, staring. Although I'm pretty sure I got a whiff of bunny when I saw one burp.
Friday, May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 Whither Buggs et al?
One of my favourite sights on the streets of Collingwood is the family of bunnies that live on several properties around Hume and Peel streets. I first started noticing them a few years ago and their population really seemed to swell in the last few years. They were reproducing like, well, rabbits.
Their little noses and funny ears make me smile every time I see them, which has been pretty much every day for the last couple of summers.
But the bunnies are nowhere to be seen this year, nor is there any evidence of their long-eared ways. Even my doggie doesn't seem to know where they've gone, and she always gets very excited to pass through their territory, sniffing wildly at their no-doubt cute smells.
It's a little distressing, not to mention dangerous, since I crane my neck in all directions when I go through that area of town.
Where'd they go?
Their little noses and funny ears make me smile every time I see them, which has been pretty much every day for the last couple of summers.
But the bunnies are nowhere to be seen this year, nor is there any evidence of their long-eared ways. Even my doggie doesn't seem to know where they've gone, and she always gets very excited to pass through their territory, sniffing wildly at their no-doubt cute smells.
It's a little distressing, not to mention dangerous, since I crane my neck in all directions when I go through that area of town.
Where'd they go?
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