Saturday, July 31, 2010
July 31, 2010 - The He-Be-Jee-Bees
When did we all start speaking in Ebonics? Have you noticed this annoying trend of inserting forms of the verb "to be" into any and all sentences? For example, "I will not be going there", "I will not be doing that". It's even infiltrated newspeak "Prime Minister will not be letting Guergis back into caucus". What's wrong with "I will not go", "I will not do", "Harper will not let". It's extra, extraneous verbiage, and I don't be understanding.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
July 28, 2010- Doggyworld
There are days I'm just the teeniest bit glad my dearly departed father is not with us, so I don't have to see his scowl when he finds out what I spend my money on.
For example, I don't know if I could put my dog in what appears to be the Taj Mahal of sleeping quarters if I had to tell him what it will cost.
The last few times we've had no one to dog/house sit while we were away, our dear darling bedhog of a pooch stayed at our vet clinic. It's a perfectly reasonable place and we know for sure she's being fed and watered and walked; she's just miserable. It seems she misses us so much and is so unused to being in a crate for long periods, she comes home exhausted and with bruising around her mouth from chewing on the bars.
So, we're trying something new, and something Dad would not approve of, not in a million years.
We're spending what seems to me to be a lot of money on very fancy digs the next time we're away overnight. No crate, no bars; it has ceramic tile walls and a glass door, like a shower door, instead. I got a tour of the facility, which even comes with a TV (sadly, a nicer one than we watch at home, tuned to Animal Planet, natch) and it's airy, clean and much bigger than any crate I've seen. It won't be as good as bedding down with mummy and daddy, but here's hoping she comes home happy, with no scars.
Sorry, Dad. I know she's 'just a dog'. But she's MY dog and if I can't take her with me, I want her safe and happy.
For example, I don't know if I could put my dog in what appears to be the Taj Mahal of sleeping quarters if I had to tell him what it will cost.
The last few times we've had no one to dog/house sit while we were away, our dear darling bedhog of a pooch stayed at our vet clinic. It's a perfectly reasonable place and we know for sure she's being fed and watered and walked; she's just miserable. It seems she misses us so much and is so unused to being in a crate for long periods, she comes home exhausted and with bruising around her mouth from chewing on the bars.
So, we're trying something new, and something Dad would not approve of, not in a million years.
We're spending what seems to me to be a lot of money on very fancy digs the next time we're away overnight. No crate, no bars; it has ceramic tile walls and a glass door, like a shower door, instead. I got a tour of the facility, which even comes with a TV (sadly, a nicer one than we watch at home, tuned to Animal Planet, natch) and it's airy, clean and much bigger than any crate I've seen. It won't be as good as bedding down with mummy and daddy, but here's hoping she comes home happy, with no scars.
Sorry, Dad. I know she's 'just a dog'. But she's MY dog and if I can't take her with me, I want her safe and happy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
July 27, 2010- Luddite
I'm swimming around a little lost, since my computer has fallen ill and has been in the shop for nearly a week.
It started with USB ports that started failing, then the SD card wouldn't work and now it seems there's something wrong with the Motherboard (whatever that is). At one point yesterday, I was receiving advice from the technician about what to look for in a new computer.
He was going to try a few more things (he said it had now become a challenge...), but it didn't look good. At the end of the day, however, it turned out reports of my computer's death were greatly exaggerated. Well, perhaps not greatly exaggerated, more like a titch premature.
So, I'm bringing it home today, carefully.
I'm really looking forward to paying my bills, finding out what my friends are up to in the afternoons reading international newspapers, and winning arguments with the random facts I find myself looking up. Everything's true on the Internet, isn't it? My sweetie is hoping to resume empire building on the game he plays.
I'll have lots of time to surf, too, since my laundry's done, the floors are clean, the weeds pulled and the lawn mowed. Where did all that time come from?
In case you're confused, I'm writing this at work, where the computers are still working, most of the time anyway.
It started with USB ports that started failing, then the SD card wouldn't work and now it seems there's something wrong with the Motherboard (whatever that is). At one point yesterday, I was receiving advice from the technician about what to look for in a new computer.
He was going to try a few more things (he said it had now become a challenge...), but it didn't look good. At the end of the day, however, it turned out reports of my computer's death were greatly exaggerated. Well, perhaps not greatly exaggerated, more like a titch premature.
So, I'm bringing it home today, carefully.
I'm really looking forward to paying my bills, finding out what my friends are up to in the afternoons reading international newspapers, and winning arguments with the random facts I find myself looking up. Everything's true on the Internet, isn't it? My sweetie is hoping to resume empire building on the game he plays.
I'll have lots of time to surf, too, since my laundry's done, the floors are clean, the weeds pulled and the lawn mowed. Where did all that time come from?
In case you're confused, I'm writing this at work, where the computers are still working, most of the time anyway.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
July 22, 2010 Over/Under
You pretty much know as soon as someone says, "I'm not a racist, but..." that they're going to say something completely racist. As soon as your boyfriend begins 'a talk' by telling you how great you are, you can count on being dumped by the end of it.
Similarly, when a CEO talks about how much they value their employees, you just know cuts are coming. And so it happened today at Collingwood's hospital. Five of the facility's highly valued nursing jobs are being eliminated.
The reason: the scourge of underfunding. It's a very prevalent and troublesome problem, especially in taxpayer-funded organisations like hospitals and schools, and in recent years, it has been a real challenge. (although there is a lot of talk about solutions, no one in taxpayer-funded agencies has problems anymore; they have challenges)
More of us need to talk to our lenders and employers about solutions for our underfunding. "I'm not in debt-I'm underfunded!"
The hospital says it was underfunded to the tune of 400-thousand dollars last year. The 'solution' to the 'challenge' which will be cuts to front-line nursing jobs, along with cuts to operating room time (more nursing jobs) and cuts to hours for clerks.
By the way, the CEO received a 20 percent raise last year. In dollar terms, that's a raise of 38 thousand dollars from 2008 to 2009. She's now paid 227-thousand of your tax dollars. I don't imagine she faces any challenges with personal underfunding, not like the nurses or clerks will.
---Full disclosure: I was an employee of the hospital in Collingwood for three years, from 2003 to 2006, spending much of that time wordsmithing for at least three CEOs, including the one who currently holds the job. My most commonly offered advice was, "Make decisions that are defensible. Then defend them." The position I held was eliminated in 2006, although I believe there is someone working there now with the same title.
Similarly, when a CEO talks about how much they value their employees, you just know cuts are coming. And so it happened today at Collingwood's hospital. Five of the facility's highly valued nursing jobs are being eliminated.
The reason: the scourge of underfunding. It's a very prevalent and troublesome problem, especially in taxpayer-funded organisations like hospitals and schools, and in recent years, it has been a real challenge. (although there is a lot of talk about solutions, no one in taxpayer-funded agencies has problems anymore; they have challenges)
More of us need to talk to our lenders and employers about solutions for our underfunding. "I'm not in debt-I'm underfunded!"
The hospital says it was underfunded to the tune of 400-thousand dollars last year. The 'solution' to the 'challenge' which will be cuts to front-line nursing jobs, along with cuts to operating room time (more nursing jobs) and cuts to hours for clerks.
By the way, the CEO received a 20 percent raise last year. In dollar terms, that's a raise of 38 thousand dollars from 2008 to 2009. She's now paid 227-thousand of your tax dollars. I don't imagine she faces any challenges with personal underfunding, not like the nurses or clerks will.
---Full disclosure: I was an employee of the hospital in Collingwood for three years, from 2003 to 2006, spending much of that time wordsmithing for at least three CEOs, including the one who currently holds the job. My most commonly offered advice was, "Make decisions that are defensible. Then defend them." The position I held was eliminated in 2006, although I believe there is someone working there now with the same title.
Friday, July 16, 2010
July 16, 2010- Hotel Angels
I met two angels this morning in a hotel in Michigan. Darci and Jessica, you are my new personal heroes in service and helpfulness and all-round good personhood.
You see, I left my wedding ring behind in my hotel room this morning. I had taken it off while putting on skin lotion. I didn't notice until my travelling companions and I were gassing up about 10 minutes' drive away, and just about to get on the freeway. Never yet in my life have I had such a sinking feeling of panic and gut-wrenching sickness. Yes, it's just a ring, no jewels in it, plain gold and not even an inscription. But still...it's a symbol of the magic I somehow got lucky enough to share. Frankly, I didn't know how much it meant to me until I thought I'd lost it. I desperately, fervently, shakingly wanted it back. If it were in the sewer, I would have dived in to get it. (well, a clean, dry sewer, anyway....)
Darci got it the minute she saw my face. " IjustcheckedoutafewminutesagoandIthinkIleftmy weddingringinmyroom." was one breath and before I was done, she had a key card in her hand and was asking my room number. I did not refrain from running down the hall once the Slowest Elevator in the World had reached my floor.
I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the cleaners had already been at work in my room.
The sheets were gone. My ring was not on the bed. My ring was not on the bedside table. Or the floor under the bed. Or the floor near the sink. Or the floor under the desk. Or the floor in the bathroom. Or in the tub. Or the sink. Or the closet I hadn't even opened. Not in the fridge. Or the microwave. Or under the cushions of the couch. Or the cushions of the chair. Or the cushions of the other chair. Or the floor beside the bed. Or the floor on the other side of the bed. Or any of the aforementioned places when I checked the second time, trying to choke back tears.
The workers' cart in the hall was not the one that had collected my sheets. The workers in the hall were not the workers who had collected my sheets, but they could direct me to the person who had. One of them accompanied me to the lobby, handed me off to another worker, who knew where the girl was who had taken my sheets. She, too, took one look at my face and said in her nasal Michigan drawl, "Honey, I'll see what we can do, come with me." She didn't stop moving until she tipped over the enormous basket of the sheets and wet, dirty towels she had collected and which were waiting for the washing machines in the back room. Together, Darci, Jessica and I sifted quickly through the spilled linens, and we weren't having any luck when Jessica left to go to a second bin. Darci and I were at the bottom of the first bin when Jessica stood next to me, my wee ring on her index finger, "Is this it?" My knees buckled and my arms were around her neck in a nanosecond. It's actually lucky I didn't knock the ring off her hand in my enthusiasm to hug and thank her.
There was no question these two women were going to help a woman in distress. No questions about whether I had checked my luggage, no musings about how stupid a person has to be to lose their wedding ring. Just help. Simple, kind, willing help for a stranger and a guest. I won't forget it, and I will pass it on.
You see, I left my wedding ring behind in my hotel room this morning. I had taken it off while putting on skin lotion. I didn't notice until my travelling companions and I were gassing up about 10 minutes' drive away, and just about to get on the freeway. Never yet in my life have I had such a sinking feeling of panic and gut-wrenching sickness. Yes, it's just a ring, no jewels in it, plain gold and not even an inscription. But still...it's a symbol of the magic I somehow got lucky enough to share. Frankly, I didn't know how much it meant to me until I thought I'd lost it. I desperately, fervently, shakingly wanted it back. If it were in the sewer, I would have dived in to get it. (well, a clean, dry sewer, anyway....)
Darci got it the minute she saw my face. " IjustcheckedoutafewminutesagoandIthinkIleftmy weddingringinmyroom." was one breath and before I was done, she had a key card in her hand and was asking my room number. I did not refrain from running down the hall once the Slowest Elevator in the World had reached my floor.
I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the cleaners had already been at work in my room.
The sheets were gone. My ring was not on the bed. My ring was not on the bedside table. Or the floor under the bed. Or the floor near the sink. Or the floor under the desk. Or the floor in the bathroom. Or in the tub. Or the sink. Or the closet I hadn't even opened. Not in the fridge. Or the microwave. Or under the cushions of the couch. Or the cushions of the chair. Or the cushions of the other chair. Or the floor beside the bed. Or the floor on the other side of the bed. Or any of the aforementioned places when I checked the second time, trying to choke back tears.
The workers' cart in the hall was not the one that had collected my sheets. The workers in the hall were not the workers who had collected my sheets, but they could direct me to the person who had. One of them accompanied me to the lobby, handed me off to another worker, who knew where the girl was who had taken my sheets. She, too, took one look at my face and said in her nasal Michigan drawl, "Honey, I'll see what we can do, come with me." She didn't stop moving until she tipped over the enormous basket of the sheets and wet, dirty towels she had collected and which were waiting for the washing machines in the back room. Together, Darci, Jessica and I sifted quickly through the spilled linens, and we weren't having any luck when Jessica left to go to a second bin. Darci and I were at the bottom of the first bin when Jessica stood next to me, my wee ring on her index finger, "Is this it?" My knees buckled and my arms were around her neck in a nanosecond. It's actually lucky I didn't knock the ring off her hand in my enthusiasm to hug and thank her.
There was no question these two women were going to help a woman in distress. No questions about whether I had checked my luggage, no musings about how stupid a person has to be to lose their wedding ring. Just help. Simple, kind, willing help for a stranger and a guest. I won't forget it, and I will pass it on.
Monday, July 12, 2010
July 12, 2010- Missed It
I gave up on the Spain/Netherlands game at minute 112.
I just couldn't take it any more: no plays were being made, it was nil/nil after 112 minutes of play, I was late for a dinner party and it looked like they were headed to kicks. As far as I'm concerned, as soon as you go to the penalty kicks (or a shootout in hockey), you might as well bring out the scrabble board, bocce balls, badminton racquets or pool cues, 'cuz you're no longer playing the same sport.
But really, four minutes? I couldn't put in four more minutes after all those other games I sat through, trying desperately to find a reason to like soccer? Was it the vuvuzelas, or as we called them when I bought mine in the 1990s, long plastic annoying horns? Was it the sheer boredom of the football equivalent of 'the trap' in hockey? Was it the pompous British announcers? I'll never know. What I do know is that when that goal was finally scored, I was on my way to a swimming pool, refreshment and a four year break from soccer during which I will forget everything I've learned about The Beautiful Game over the last month.
I'm just glad I picked Spain to win. (and I'm not bragging, but I did pick them, from, like, day twelve. I was distracted by the Slovenian shirts and Ronaldo's abs, but then went with Spain. honest, I did.) Me and a German Octopus got it right. Now, that's a distinguished pair, and both of us have about the same level of knowledge of the game.
I just couldn't take it any more: no plays were being made, it was nil/nil after 112 minutes of play, I was late for a dinner party and it looked like they were headed to kicks. As far as I'm concerned, as soon as you go to the penalty kicks (or a shootout in hockey), you might as well bring out the scrabble board, bocce balls, badminton racquets or pool cues, 'cuz you're no longer playing the same sport.
But really, four minutes? I couldn't put in four more minutes after all those other games I sat through, trying desperately to find a reason to like soccer? Was it the vuvuzelas, or as we called them when I bought mine in the 1990s, long plastic annoying horns? Was it the sheer boredom of the football equivalent of 'the trap' in hockey? Was it the pompous British announcers? I'll never know. What I do know is that when that goal was finally scored, I was on my way to a swimming pool, refreshment and a four year break from soccer during which I will forget everything I've learned about The Beautiful Game over the last month.
I'm just glad I picked Spain to win. (and I'm not bragging, but I did pick them, from, like, day twelve. I was distracted by the Slovenian shirts and Ronaldo's abs, but then went with Spain. honest, I did.) Me and a German Octopus got it right. Now, that's a distinguished pair, and both of us have about the same level of knowledge of the game.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
July 8, 2010 Hot advice
"More tropical than the tropics," is how Environment Canada's Dave Phillips describes us these days as we swelter, sweat and sizzle through the first heat wave in what seems like a hundred years.
It's actually of course, only about three years since we've seen a sustained period of heat.
Every day this week, we're deluged with the latest oh-so-serious list of how hot it is, how hot it feels like and the things we should do or refrain from doing to beat the heat.
I hereby offer up my own personal list of things to do and to avoid during a heat wave:
Number one: Avoid driving to Toronto. This applies pretty much any time, but it is especially important to avoid the drive to the 'big smoke' during a heat wave if your air conditioning has suddenly conked out, like mine did. It's even more true if you arrive on University avenue just as a major power outage begins, like I did on Monday.
Number Two: Avoid walking distances greater than from the backyard pool to the fridge.This one goes without saying, really. Any exertion at any time is to be avoided, but during a heat wave, you have the excuse to sit really still and watch the football.
Number Three: Avoid Ironing. Even if you somehow think it might be a good idea to set up outside under an awning to avoid negating your air conditioning inside, it's just not. If it's so hot you're afraid of losing even one teeny fraction of your AC indoors, handling a hot appliance anywhere is just a bad idea. Go get yourself some knit tops and give up on the linen.
And Number Four: Freezies. Get yourself some freezies, the old-fashioned, plastic-wrapped frozen sweetened water treats. The bigger the better. If you're stuck in a Toronto traffic jam in a heat wave, are forced to walk several blocks after dropping your car off at the mechanic, or have foolishly thought linen really was the way to go this year, a freezie can make all those troubles somehow magically disappear.
It's actually of course, only about three years since we've seen a sustained period of heat.
Every day this week, we're deluged with the latest oh-so-serious list of how hot it is, how hot it feels like and the things we should do or refrain from doing to beat the heat.
I hereby offer up my own personal list of things to do and to avoid during a heat wave:
Number one: Avoid driving to Toronto. This applies pretty much any time, but it is especially important to avoid the drive to the 'big smoke' during a heat wave if your air conditioning has suddenly conked out, like mine did. It's even more true if you arrive on University avenue just as a major power outage begins, like I did on Monday.
Number Two: Avoid walking distances greater than from the backyard pool to the fridge.This one goes without saying, really. Any exertion at any time is to be avoided, but during a heat wave, you have the excuse to sit really still and watch the football.
Number Three: Avoid Ironing. Even if you somehow think it might be a good idea to set up outside under an awning to avoid negating your air conditioning inside, it's just not. If it's so hot you're afraid of losing even one teeny fraction of your AC indoors, handling a hot appliance anywhere is just a bad idea. Go get yourself some knit tops and give up on the linen.
And Number Four: Freezies. Get yourself some freezies, the old-fashioned, plastic-wrapped frozen sweetened water treats. The bigger the better. If you're stuck in a Toronto traffic jam in a heat wave, are forced to walk several blocks after dropping your car off at the mechanic, or have foolishly thought linen really was the way to go this year, a freezie can make all those troubles somehow magically disappear.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
July 4, 2010- Two friends and a Holiday
Can I offer up some thanks here, after bragging a bit about my weekend?
Two girlfriends from Toronto came up 'to the country' for their Canada Day, and I was pretty proud to show off the new Collingwood. One of my buddies lives very near the waterfront Lake Ontario, and I wanted to show off a lake you can actually swim in. The weather, the town's timelines and mine all worked together for a simply perfect time together.
They arrived the afternoon of Canada Day, and after an afternoon in the sunshine, we walked to our amazing waterfront for the terrific (although it seemed short at 18 minutes) fireworks. Both were impressed with the waterfront re-do, and surprised there had been no access to the water there for so long.
Friday night, we had some of the best service, best food and nicest ambiance we'd all had in a long time (an enormous amount of red wine notwithstanding....) at one of the downtown patios. Now, this isn't one of the patios that's being forced to move tomorrow, so next year, weather permitting, we'll do it all over again.
Thanks, Mother Nature, for serving up a great weekend.
Thanks, Server Cassie, for putting up with our 'Sex and the City' fantasies and louder-than average voices.
And thanks to 'the wood' for the downtown and First Street renovations. They look great. Please don't do anything more for a while, though, while we all get used to it.
Two girlfriends from Toronto came up 'to the country' for their Canada Day, and I was pretty proud to show off the new Collingwood. One of my buddies lives very near the waterfront Lake Ontario, and I wanted to show off a lake you can actually swim in. The weather, the town's timelines and mine all worked together for a simply perfect time together.
They arrived the afternoon of Canada Day, and after an afternoon in the sunshine, we walked to our amazing waterfront for the terrific (although it seemed short at 18 minutes) fireworks. Both were impressed with the waterfront re-do, and surprised there had been no access to the water there for so long.
Friday night, we had some of the best service, best food and nicest ambiance we'd all had in a long time (an enormous amount of red wine notwithstanding....) at one of the downtown patios. Now, this isn't one of the patios that's being forced to move tomorrow, so next year, weather permitting, we'll do it all over again.
Thanks, Mother Nature, for serving up a great weekend.
Thanks, Server Cassie, for putting up with our 'Sex and the City' fantasies and louder-than average voices.
And thanks to 'the wood' for the downtown and First Street renovations. They look great. Please don't do anything more for a while, though, while we all get used to it.
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