I recently got some news that I didn't much like. It has thrown me for a bit of a loop. (I don't feel badly, though: don't get me started on the old bad versus badly debate- it's sure to end badly!)
Instead of wallowing in a blue funk, I'm trying to focus on things that make me happy, even if sometimes, I feel like I'm grasping at teeny tiny straws for something nice to contemplate.
Here are the five things that made me feel better this week:
Monday: Jamie Oliver's Southern Indian fish and rice soup. wow wow wow!
Tuesday: Finding five bucks in the pocket of a coat I hadn't worn since spring- morning coffee for my co-host and me!
Wednesday: My piano students actually practised!
Also Wednesday: I got to see a wee bunny scurry across my driveway and under my neighbour's deck; a cute, fuzzy white-tailed brown juvenile. I hope to see it again.
Today: I already own all the ingredients for a delicious dinner tonight, so I don't have to go to the store.
Small steps people, small steps.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
My Plan B
I have my second husband picked out.
No, I'm not done with my first (and hopefully only); I just want to be ready.
The man I've chosen doesn't know that I have wee crush on him. We've only met twice. I truly hope he never finds out my plan because even typing it right now, it sounds a little creepy. Here it is: if my husband passes away and I find out that the man I'm eyeing has become a widower, I'm definitely going to make a move. Number two, as I call him, seems like a pretty good mate: friendly, funny, good looking, sporty and seems like a good dad. I'm sure he's a good husband, too.
I ran the tragic plan past my current husband to get his approval, but for another reason, too, and here's where a funny little story becomes a lesson in how to stay married: I told my husband that I had a teensy crush on another man as a way of diffusing the power of the crush. Put another way, I revealed myself to my partner to turn what might otherwise be a harmful secret into something to bring us closer together, through laughter.
It worked brilliantly: if this guy's name ever comes up, instead of me blushing about my secret feelings, my sweetie and I get to share a joke.
I think if more people would share their silly feelings before those feelings become serious, and if more spouses would respond with kindhearted laughter and understanding, we might just see fewer broken hearts and maybe fewer broken marriages.
No, I'm not done with my first (and hopefully only); I just want to be ready.
The man I've chosen doesn't know that I have wee crush on him. We've only met twice. I truly hope he never finds out my plan because even typing it right now, it sounds a little creepy. Here it is: if my husband passes away and I find out that the man I'm eyeing has become a widower, I'm definitely going to make a move. Number two, as I call him, seems like a pretty good mate: friendly, funny, good looking, sporty and seems like a good dad. I'm sure he's a good husband, too.
I ran the tragic plan past my current husband to get his approval, but for another reason, too, and here's where a funny little story becomes a lesson in how to stay married: I told my husband that I had a teensy crush on another man as a way of diffusing the power of the crush. Put another way, I revealed myself to my partner to turn what might otherwise be a harmful secret into something to bring us closer together, through laughter.
It worked brilliantly: if this guy's name ever comes up, instead of me blushing about my secret feelings, my sweetie and I get to share a joke.
I think if more people would share their silly feelings before those feelings become serious, and if more spouses would respond with kindhearted laughter and understanding, we might just see fewer broken hearts and maybe fewer broken marriages.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Ward Four, er, Three
New experience number 10,302,983 this weekend: Moderating a candidates' meeting. I was invited to host both of two such meetings in my old stomping grounds of Dunedin, and Singhampton.
So there I was at a lectern, having comandeered an old-fashioned schoolteachers' bell, the four men vying for office having to shut up when I rang it. The very first words out of my mouth were to say, 'thanks for coming to this candidates meeting for ward four...' only to be corrected by my old 4-h leader, who was in the front row.
After that initial stumble, it became a terrific afternoon, and not because of anything the candidates had to say, or my job as ringleader. It was terrific because both community halls were filled with the members of the community, there to hear what their neighbour had to say and what those neighbours had to offer for the job. I thought it was tremendous to hear respectful, thoughtful and for the most part, good natured questioning.
The four candidates are vastly different, and yet each of them would do a bang-up job. I don't envy the voters of Ward 3.
I hear and read a lot of stories of corruption, graft and trouble in politics, and I've seen crooks and would-be crooks get into in office. But yesterday, my hope for democracy was renewed, and I was proud to help it along with my little bell.
Funny aside about Singhampton-I had quite a discussion with a certain airborne traffic reporter when I worked on the radio in Toronto. One snowy Friday afternoon, he said on air that 24 highway was closed from Shelburne to SING-um-tun. I corrected him, and he insisted it was pronounced that way, and he should know since he had "friends with a farm house up there for several years!" "Well," I replied to this very crusty fellow, "I grew up two miles away, and so did my father and his father, and none of us have heard anyone say anything but sing-HAM-ton. But, hey, you do what you like." He got it right in the next report.
So there I was at a lectern, having comandeered an old-fashioned schoolteachers' bell, the four men vying for office having to shut up when I rang it. The very first words out of my mouth were to say, 'thanks for coming to this candidates meeting for ward four...' only to be corrected by my old 4-h leader, who was in the front row.
After that initial stumble, it became a terrific afternoon, and not because of anything the candidates had to say, or my job as ringleader. It was terrific because both community halls were filled with the members of the community, there to hear what their neighbour had to say and what those neighbours had to offer for the job. I thought it was tremendous to hear respectful, thoughtful and for the most part, good natured questioning.
The four candidates are vastly different, and yet each of them would do a bang-up job. I don't envy the voters of Ward 3.
I hear and read a lot of stories of corruption, graft and trouble in politics, and I've seen crooks and would-be crooks get into in office. But yesterday, my hope for democracy was renewed, and I was proud to help it along with my little bell.
Funny aside about Singhampton-I had quite a discussion with a certain airborne traffic reporter when I worked on the radio in Toronto. One snowy Friday afternoon, he said on air that 24 highway was closed from Shelburne to SING-um-tun. I corrected him, and he insisted it was pronounced that way, and he should know since he had "friends with a farm house up there for several years!" "Well," I replied to this very crusty fellow, "I grew up two miles away, and so did my father and his father, and none of us have heard anyone say anything but sing-HAM-ton. But, hey, you do what you like." He got it right in the next report.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Candidates versus Buttertarts
I went cooking crazy this week, getting ready for a winter that's going to mean a lot of frozen dinners at my house. Starting next month, on the three nights a week that I'm at the curling rink, feel free to drop over for dinner- I can guarantee you'll get either squash soup or chicken pot pie. I've made about a thousand batches of each for re-heating through the long months when I'm not going to be at home to cook.
I feel a bit like a pioneerwoman, putting up preserves for the winter. I also managed to bottle up all tomatoes from the backyard, using my mother's 'tomato squeezer'. (it's really just a juicer, but a very cool kitchen gadget, with lots of power and noise!) I'm not sure if the juice will become pasta sauce or Bloody Marys. I guess that will depend on how well I do at the rink...
Sadly, I will have no time to hold on to my championship at the Collingwood fair when it comes to butter tarts. I simply ran out of time yesterday, and today, instead of baking, I'll be at the all-candidates meeting at the Legion, trying to figure out who to vote for in the local election.
I will also gather sound so you, too can hear from the candidates - on my talk show. So if you're baking instead of attending, be sure to tune in tomorrow and Friday for the candidates for council, and Monday for the candidates for Mayor and Deputy Mayor.
97.7 FM or www.977Thebeach.ca
I feel a bit like a pioneerwoman, putting up preserves for the winter. I also managed to bottle up all tomatoes from the backyard, using my mother's 'tomato squeezer'. (it's really just a juicer, but a very cool kitchen gadget, with lots of power and noise!) I'm not sure if the juice will become pasta sauce or Bloody Marys. I guess that will depend on how well I do at the rink...
Sadly, I will have no time to hold on to my championship at the Collingwood fair when it comes to butter tarts. I simply ran out of time yesterday, and today, instead of baking, I'll be at the all-candidates meeting at the Legion, trying to figure out who to vote for in the local election.
I will also gather sound so you, too can hear from the candidates - on my talk show. So if you're baking instead of attending, be sure to tune in tomorrow and Friday for the candidates for council, and Monday for the candidates for Mayor and Deputy Mayor.
97.7 FM or www.977Thebeach.ca
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
September 15, 2010 - Dear Fellow Sticklers
I need your help and advice, fellow stickers.
Please advise me on the best technique to employ as I attempt to refrain from violence when confronted by the most annoying pet peeve.
There could be some bad hurt coming if I ever again hear anyone say they "feel badly" about something.
You sticklers and I all know you can't feel badly unless you're touching something and doing a lousy job of it. Like a doctor, say, who is not good at palpating. That doctor would feel badly.
But if you're upset or expressing pity, you feel bad. You don't feel gladly or sadly or madly, why would you feel badly?
I can see how the mixup happens. It's an adverb versus adjective thing and when added to the verb feel, it can certainly get tricky. For me, though, it's the screaming that's going to be troublesome; screaming that's either mine or that of the next person near me who gets it wrong.
Thank you for your kind advice on this matter,
M
Please advise me on the best technique to employ as I attempt to refrain from violence when confronted by the most annoying pet peeve.
There could be some bad hurt coming if I ever again hear anyone say they "feel badly" about something.
You sticklers and I all know you can't feel badly unless you're touching something and doing a lousy job of it. Like a doctor, say, who is not good at palpating. That doctor would feel badly.
But if you're upset or expressing pity, you feel bad. You don't feel gladly or sadly or madly, why would you feel badly?
I can see how the mixup happens. It's an adverb versus adjective thing and when added to the verb feel, it can certainly get tricky. For me, though, it's the screaming that's going to be troublesome; screaming that's either mine or that of the next person near me who gets it wrong.
Thank you for your kind advice on this matter,
M
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
September 14, 2010- Yesterday
I suddenly understand what those geezers are getting at when they're quoted in those 'married 50 years!' news articles saying, "It seems like yesterday". I've always thought it seemed like yesterday to them, because, well, they've been married fifty years and their memories might not be quite as good as they once were.
But if fifty years flies past as fast as seven, we're in pretty good shape to be those geezers.
It really does seem like yesterday we failed to plan out when 'the boys' would come into the church from the vestry and so Sweetie didn't actually see me stride down the aisle.
It actually seems like yesterday I was using my calligraphy pen to address envelopes for the invitations, oh-so-carefully lettering the paper that would be in recycling bins across Ontario mere moments after they were opened.
It sure feels like yesterday my sweetie was being given (given!) three fingers of scotch at a bar down the street from the fancy china shop in Toronto where we spent several hours picking out our 'good' china and crystal. He had collapsed on a couch and the server felt sorry for him when he discovered where we'd been.
It seems like yesterday I could fit into my wedding dress.
Thankfully, my feet are the same size and my very expensive wedding shoes will never go out of style. Wow, I'm glad I didn't pick white.
But if fifty years flies past as fast as seven, we're in pretty good shape to be those geezers.
It really does seem like yesterday we failed to plan out when 'the boys' would come into the church from the vestry and so Sweetie didn't actually see me stride down the aisle.
It actually seems like yesterday I was using my calligraphy pen to address envelopes for the invitations, oh-so-carefully lettering the paper that would be in recycling bins across Ontario mere moments after they were opened.
It sure feels like yesterday my sweetie was being given (given!) three fingers of scotch at a bar down the street from the fancy china shop in Toronto where we spent several hours picking out our 'good' china and crystal. He had collapsed on a couch and the server felt sorry for him when he discovered where we'd been.
It seems like yesterday I could fit into my wedding dress.
Thankfully, my feet are the same size and my very expensive wedding shoes will never go out of style. Wow, I'm glad I didn't pick white.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
September 9, 2010 - Kooks with Books
I'm not planning to burn any books, religious or otherwise, although I must admit thinking a few harlequin romances might make some good kindling. But if I wanted to burn a book, religious or otherwise, whether making a point or a cosy fire, I'm pretty sure I should be allowed to, even if you don't want me to. I shouldn't have to worry about whether you're going to kill me for it, or if you're going to kill my family or friends.
All that said, just because I want to do something and have the right to do it, should I? Well, yes and no. If these people in Florida who are planning a 'burn your Koran day' are doing it to make a point about freedom of expression, that's one thing. If they're stoking up the fires to see what kind of reaction they might get, that's another.
If the people who are upset about the book burning plan condemn it because it's disrespectful, I can get behind that. But, if we're worried about the burning of the books because we're scared of the violence that might come from it, I can't. (The possibility of violence is real: at least 19 people were killed in the furor that surrounded those commissioned cartoons of Mohammad in Denmark. (Most of the cartoons weren't funny, by the way.))
One good thing has come from this controversy, though, which is the reminder that it's not just Islam that loonies can hide in. It turns out there are crazy Christians just like there are crazy Muslims. And before you exclaim, 'It wasn't crazed Christians flying planes into buildings!,' take a moment to think about these: abortion clinic bombings, residential schools, the Troubles, the Inquisition and The Crusades.
All that said, just because I want to do something and have the right to do it, should I? Well, yes and no. If these people in Florida who are planning a 'burn your Koran day' are doing it to make a point about freedom of expression, that's one thing. If they're stoking up the fires to see what kind of reaction they might get, that's another.
If the people who are upset about the book burning plan condemn it because it's disrespectful, I can get behind that. But, if we're worried about the burning of the books because we're scared of the violence that might come from it, I can't. (The possibility of violence is real: at least 19 people were killed in the furor that surrounded those commissioned cartoons of Mohammad in Denmark. (Most of the cartoons weren't funny, by the way.))
One good thing has come from this controversy, though, which is the reminder that it's not just Islam that loonies can hide in. It turns out there are crazy Christians just like there are crazy Muslims. And before you exclaim, 'It wasn't crazed Christians flying planes into buildings!,' take a moment to think about these: abortion clinic bombings, residential schools, the Troubles, the Inquisition and The Crusades.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
September 8, 2010 - Asking the Voters
While I don't write about it often, I am an avid follower of local politics and every time I'm out and about, I spend time asking people I meet where they stand on issues and what they think about what's going on in town. I have my own ideas, but I like to hear what other people are thinking, and quite often, the points others make are good enough to sway me.
While in some circles, it seems the municipal election is already decided, the people I've been listening to have certainly not made up their minds. Although some of my acquaintances are despairing over their choices, or what they see as a lack thereof.
One man I talked to at a party this weekend told me he didn't want to see a particular group of candidates get elected, because he was worried they were all connected to one another, either through family or business matters. While he said he didn't have a problem the candidates in this group as individuals, he felt it wouldn't be good for the town for there to be, as he saw it, a form of one-party rule.
He's got a point, but then again, maybe if a group that agreed on things were elected, there would be at least a semblance of collegiality at the council table. On the other hand, if everyone were in agreement all the time, what would happen if the group fell under the spell of a particular developer or set of ideas out of whack with the electorate?
It's worth thinking about, and I am heartened to know there are thoughtful people making careful decisions with their ballots.
While in some circles, it seems the municipal election is already decided, the people I've been listening to have certainly not made up their minds. Although some of my acquaintances are despairing over their choices, or what they see as a lack thereof.
One man I talked to at a party this weekend told me he didn't want to see a particular group of candidates get elected, because he was worried they were all connected to one another, either through family or business matters. While he said he didn't have a problem the candidates in this group as individuals, he felt it wouldn't be good for the town for there to be, as he saw it, a form of one-party rule.
He's got a point, but then again, maybe if a group that agreed on things were elected, there would be at least a semblance of collegiality at the council table. On the other hand, if everyone were in agreement all the time, what would happen if the group fell under the spell of a particular developer or set of ideas out of whack with the electorate?
It's worth thinking about, and I am heartened to know there are thoughtful people making careful decisions with their ballots.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)