Meat Attack

I'm so looking forward to tonight's first Christmas party of the year.

Nearly every year, my sweetheart's company Christmas gathering starts with dinner at the beloved and venerable Rockdell on Highway 26. It's a festival of meat.

We spouses, who see each other twice a year come along with 'the boys' and we all gather in either one long or two shorter tables, usually in the 'new' room at the back and what follows is a veritable meat explosion.

No one does meat like the Rockdell. Sure, there are vegetables, but they're so very secondary, you might call them an afterthought. While my sweetie mmmms and ahhhhs over his lobster, I generally share the meat platter with someone, since it's designed for two people. Cabbage rolls followed by two schnitzels topped with two sausages, several pieces of bacon, two steaks and two pork chops. There might be some coleslaw in there, but who's got room for that when there are a few fries, a baked potato, roll and if I remember right, a wee bowl of corn?

We will leave with full bellies, enough leftovers for two lunches and quite a few laughs.

I'm not sure how we manage to pack away all the salty snacks as we play a big euchre tournament, but we do it every year. Merry Christmas boys, and whoever winds up my partner: I'm sorry for trumping your ace. I just can't seem to help it.

Ms Bean Lives at My House

My own private Mister Bean moment tonight after hitting the magic number on my scale in this fall's Hunting Weight Challenge:

I simply could not wait to try on my wedding dress after losing the pounds I thought necessary to squeeze back into it, seven years after The Big Day.

It was a very fitted dress with a lot of boning and support built-in, so there was no need for me to wear anything under it that day, and there I was yesterday, quite chilly, desperately yanking on a zipper that did not want to pass my waist.

Complicating matters is the fact that I'm alone and the zipper is up the back of the dress.

So, I turned it around, and after several frustrating moments of battle, I managed it! Seven years later, I can still get into the dress! Woo Hoo! I win!

But would that blasted thing spin back around my oh-so-squeezed ribcage to sit where it's supposed to? No, indeed.

Breathless and frustrated and yet still somehow elated, I spent several difficult minutes heaving and wiggling and struggling until I caught a glimpse of myself in the spare room mirror, red-faced and awkward, with twin boned bulges that are supposed to be at the front of the dress, teasing me from the back. Boy, am I glad I don't have security cameras.

Rose Coloured Glasses?

November 22nd brings us stories every year about a late and lamented time in politics, when leaders were glamorous and people believed in ideals of government making lives better. It was a halcyon time before John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Or was it?

In 1963, humans hadn't yet set foot on the moon, and children were still crippled by polio. We hadn't yet heard of the 'invisible hand' of the markets.

Race relations were terrible; segregation was still in full force, and the book, To Kill a Mockingbird had been out for three years, but hadn't changed much yet.

A little band calling itself the Beatles released an album that day, in the UK and Canada, but they hadn't been heard yet in the US.

In 1963, the USA was involved in a disastrous overseas war fighting a near-invisible guerrilla army of insurgents. It wasn't going well and would only get worse.

As for fashion, 1963 was skinny ties for men and skirts for women-skirts that hit just above the knee along with twinsets and pillbox hats.

In 1963, there were only 6 teams in the NHL, The Toronto Maple Leafs played 70 games that season and went on to win the Stanley Cup, beating Detroit four games to three.

Ah, so I'll take the hockey and the fashions, but not much else, and I'll keep my laptop and Ipod, and hope we somehow get out of Afghanistan.

Our Accelerated Culture

It was at least three days after Princess Diana's death that I heard the first tasteless joke about it.

Something about dandruff and how she kept her head and shoulders under the front seat. A later, funnier joke was about Christmas gifts-- what was Diana getting for Xmas that year? The queen mum! ba-dah-dah!

But, fewer than 24 hours since the engagement announcement for Kate Middleton and Prince William, and we already have what's not likely the first tasteless joke.

Ready for it?

Kate Middleton- first woman to fit into Diana's ring since Dodi.

We're faster, but not funnier.

Assume and I'm a What?

I have a pair of pants that my girlfriends and I call 'the miracle pants'. They are truly amazing; giving the illusion of a shapely yet still trim derriere in a place where many other pairs either struggled to stay up, given this Scottish girl has a complete lack of junk in the trunk, or worse, give an appearance of a butt that's wider than it is deep, again because of the lack of aforementioned junk. (over-forty aside: do people still say junk in the trunk, or has everyone moved on from that particularly unfortunate phrase?

My sweetheart calls them the 'good a$$ pants' and gives me a much-welcomed wolf-whistle whenever I don them.

Now, when anyone uses the word miracle to describe a part of my body, or if there is any kind of whistling, I'll wear those pants until they fall apart. So, you can imagine my happiness on a weekend shopping trip when I found "the pants", in my size, not only available, but ridiculously on sale! I bought two pairs; didn't even need to try them on.

And so, this morning, when I clipped the tags, so excited to have another pair of miracle pants, you can imagine my disappointment when they fit everywhere but my ankles. In my excitement, I had bought the regular leg, not the long I require.

No matter how great things look 'back there' I figure floods are not coming back into style any time soon. Is anyone going to the mall today?

Hockey Grudge

I was expecting hard feelings in the studio today, but instead, I just might be able to go back to watching hockey. Maybe. If I can find a team I like.

Kerry Fraser, NHL referee, was a guest on my talk show as he continues his book-promotion tour. I have wanted to talk to him for a while. 17 years or so. It's the Gretzky/Gilmour thing. I haven't been able to get over it, and wanted him to know my pain.

Before you say, 'SEVENTEEN YEARS?! Move On!" be aware there are some Canadians of Scottish descent who aren't yet 'over' Culloden or the Clearances. 1745. Look it up.

Back in '93, I was the proud recipient of a substantial award for a documentary I had produced at college. I was watching overtime in game six in the semi-final NHL series between Los Angeles and Toronto with the 'phone in my hand, ready to spend those hard-earned dollars on Stanley Cup final tickets for the series between Montreal and Toronto. You know the rest.

What Fraser told me Friday is that he does indeed feel bad for me and for all fans because of the missed call on Gretzky, but he feels worse for his parents, whose cars were vandalized that night by crazed fans, fans who had driven from Windsor to Sarnia to dispense some 'justice'. He says his mother has kept a whistle near the 'phone ever since, to fend off the crazies who call her to complain about her son.

I was angry and disappointed, but I simply cannot imagine doing anything violent against the parent of someone who made a mistake in a game. Some hockey fans are weird. That, and the Leafs are terrible. No wonder I don't watch any more.

Defeated

I feel so very sorry for John Millar today. He's the Clearview township Ward Two candidate who lost the municipal election two weeks ago by one vote. I'm not weighing in on whether Millar or the winner, Orville Brown would be a better representative, but the way it happened has got to be embarrassing. I bet Millar feels pretty bad about the whole thing.

Ward Two encompasses Duntroon, and when Millar filed his nomination papers, that's where he lived, although his house was up for sale and he was planning a move to Creemore. The way I understand it, the house sold and closed during the election campaign and Creemore is where the Millars voted, not in their previous home ward. Neither he nor his wife voted in Duntroon. He lost by one vote, when he could have won by one. That's got to hurt.

Undefeated

I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sorry I wrote this, since acknowledging a winning streak is a sure way to end it.

It's been a good season so far on the curling rink.

I'm ooooh, I'm worried to tell you this.... undefeated. (Unless you count a game in which I played for a team which wasn't my own. Which I don't.)

I'm giving the credit to my shoes. After being teased unmercifully the last several years for my footwear (what? winners isn't good enough for you?), I finally caved this summer and bought actual curling shoes, with a gripper and a built-in slider and everything. They're... well, they're just awesome, and like the proper pants I invested in last year, they have made a big difference to my game, insofar as I can concentrate on my shots rather than having to keep track of where my slider might be and rather than sitting down to install it after every end.

Please don't congratulate me on the five-game streak, though... I don't want to jinx it.