Anyone who knows me knows I reached the peak of my athletic prowess in Grade 8 and it's been downhill ever since. I remember taking a fitness class and learning the routine "Three more, two more... " well enough that I could lift my head and look around in the class. In the mirrors, I spied an awkward, red-faced, odd looking woman and I thought, "Wow, that chick needs to work on her co-ordination..." before realizing the puffing weirdo, half a beat off the music, was ... me! I never went back.
I thought this year I had found my athletic stride with a team of women curlers who have played like champions all winter. We played the entire season undefeated. Until last night.
It was the championship games, and my game was ugly with a capital UG. I made, I think, two shots the entire first game. My teammates played really well and I called the right shots, but I just couldn't get my weight or line right. We lost the first of two possible games in spectacular fashion: 9-2.
In the second game, while we were behind the whole time we came very, very close to winning in the end; down one but sitting three without the hammer when it came to the last shot. That's when Debbie O'Reilly made a beautiful 'in-off' to sit one and take the Club Championship.
Now, I have been fighting a particularly nasty cold, and the way the playoffs worked this year, we hadn't played as a team for three weeks, but I think in the end, it was good old fashioned nerves that did me in. We were alone on the ice, with a packed house in the lounge above. My heart was racing right through both games, and at one point, I nearly passed out. I had been thinking about the game for days, and Oh, how I wanted my name on that trophy, especially after an undefeated season.
Amazingly, my team members say they'll stick with me next year.
Here's hoping we lose a game early in the season, so the 'undefeated' thing does become such an albatross around my neck. It would have been better to lose sooner rather than later.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Election Fun On the Way
If you thought the battle to become the Conservative nominee for Simcoe Grey was interesting, just wait for the battle over Simcoe Grey among conservatives split between those who are in the party and those who aren't.
Kellie Leitch's impressive win in the Conservative nomination last night, taking an overwhelming majority of the vote, should have anyone in the Helena Guergis camp mighty concerned.
Leitch's organisation was superb, the candidate made few mistakes and if no one in Creemore seems to care about how long she's been in the area or whether she actually lives in her great big house on the hill, will anyone else in the riding?
I suspect it will be very tough sledding for the ousted former Minister of State. I'm hard pressed to figure out what advantage she can claim over a well-connected surgeon. I expect many voters will consider it a good move to mark their X for a potential Health Minister, knowing that goodies flow to ridings with cabinet members.
But, as in many an election, you just never know until voting day. Here's to watching the fireworks.
Kellie Leitch's impressive win in the Conservative nomination last night, taking an overwhelming majority of the vote, should have anyone in the Helena Guergis camp mighty concerned.
Leitch's organisation was superb, the candidate made few mistakes and if no one in Creemore seems to care about how long she's been in the area or whether she actually lives in her great big house on the hill, will anyone else in the riding?
I suspect it will be very tough sledding for the ousted former Minister of State. I'm hard pressed to figure out what advantage she can claim over a well-connected surgeon. I expect many voters will consider it a good move to mark their X for a potential Health Minister, knowing that goodies flow to ridings with cabinet members.
But, as in many an election, you just never know until voting day. Here's to watching the fireworks.
Friday, March 25, 2011
InCon-nito II
They didn't kick me out, and I even ran into a couple of cousins while at the big Conservative meeting last night. Of course, it's hard for me not to run into a couple of cousins pretty much anywhere I go, there are so many of them.
My first political rally was not exactly what I'd expected, if you can call a large meeting hall 2/3rds filled with people who politely clapped at all three speeches a rally. There was no Koolaid to drink, no blood sacrifices. Just folks, and plenty of them I knew from curling, school or other parts of my life. Also, the median age, I'd say was about 60. Something all political parties might pay attention to.
From what I could see, none of the three candidates hit it out of the park, but none fell flat on their face, either. It's too bad the mics and sound system became such an issue for all of them.
Chris Carrier talked first, with substantial energy, his speech focused on what he believes it will take to win the upcoming vote, considering the situation involving the previous nominee, Helena Guergis. He was the only one to mention her. He said with Guergis running as an independent, the possibility of a split vote among the conservative-minded is a real threat. Carrier also addressed some of the ongoing criticisms he's faced from his very vocal detractors. Frankly, I am surprised he hasn't reacted sooner and stronger to what might be called cyberbullying.
Kellie Leitch opened her remarks talking about the 60,000 kilometres she's put on her car during the campaign. The rest of her speech was similar to the one she gave at the kick-off to her campaign six months ago, stressing that that as an MP, she can help 'millions of kids' rather than just one at a time. That said, she then offered an anecdote about the help she and a team of other doctors provided to a kid who had been hit by a transport truck.
Paul Throop had his elementary school teacher introduce him, which was touching but odd; first, since he's in his mid-60s, and also since neither of the other two candidates was formally introduced. He spoke from the floor, rather than the podium, and did not use his notes, impressive until he lost his train of thought when he spoke about his sister. Prior to that, he had focused on how he has worked behind the scenes in the federal government for years, and knows how to get things done.
Today's the day the Harper Government is expected to fall, with May 2nd the most likely date for the election.
Over six hours of voting today, Simcoe Grey's Conservatives will pick their candidate. It will be very interesting to see whether they offer up the local guy, the surgeon or the Ottawa insider for your consideration on voting day.
My first political rally was not exactly what I'd expected, if you can call a large meeting hall 2/3rds filled with people who politely clapped at all three speeches a rally. There was no Koolaid to drink, no blood sacrifices. Just folks, and plenty of them I knew from curling, school or other parts of my life. Also, the median age, I'd say was about 60. Something all political parties might pay attention to.
From what I could see, none of the three candidates hit it out of the park, but none fell flat on their face, either. It's too bad the mics and sound system became such an issue for all of them.
Chris Carrier talked first, with substantial energy, his speech focused on what he believes it will take to win the upcoming vote, considering the situation involving the previous nominee, Helena Guergis. He was the only one to mention her. He said with Guergis running as an independent, the possibility of a split vote among the conservative-minded is a real threat. Carrier also addressed some of the ongoing criticisms he's faced from his very vocal detractors. Frankly, I am surprised he hasn't reacted sooner and stronger to what might be called cyberbullying.
Kellie Leitch opened her remarks talking about the 60,000 kilometres she's put on her car during the campaign. The rest of her speech was similar to the one she gave at the kick-off to her campaign six months ago, stressing that that as an MP, she can help 'millions of kids' rather than just one at a time. That said, she then offered an anecdote about the help she and a team of other doctors provided to a kid who had been hit by a transport truck.
Paul Throop had his elementary school teacher introduce him, which was touching but odd; first, since he's in his mid-60s, and also since neither of the other two candidates was formally introduced. He spoke from the floor, rather than the podium, and did not use his notes, impressive until he lost his train of thought when he spoke about his sister. Prior to that, he had focused on how he has worked behind the scenes in the federal government for years, and knows how to get things done.
Today's the day the Harper Government is expected to fall, with May 2nd the most likely date for the election.
Over six hours of voting today, Simcoe Grey's Conservatives will pick their candidate. It will be very interesting to see whether they offer up the local guy, the surgeon or the Ottawa insider for your consideration on voting day.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
InCon-nito
I'm not much of a 'joiner'. Most journalists aren't; we're observers, interested in the people who do join stuff, who take a stand and who hold strong opinions.
This winter though, I joined. I paid my ten bucks and joined the federal Conservative party.
I haven't suddenly become a fervent tax-cutter; joining is the only way to get into the Simcoe Grey nomination meeting, since the party is pretty strict about not letting members of 'the press' in. (note to the CPC: journalists are members of "the news media" now. I'm not sure even the newspapers use presses any more. Haven't since, like, the 90s...)
Now, I'm not the only journalist in the area to join up in Simcoe Grey just to get into the nomination meeting. At least one of my colleagues in the local media has also joined, also strictly as a way of getting in. Based on the neverending online chronicles of his disdain for and disgust with Chris Carrier, I'm guessing he's likely to cast a vote, too, but not for the former Collingwood mayor.
All three candidates have substantial strengths as far as I can see, and based on the huge number of 'phone calls I'm getting, all of them have good organisational skills.
I had to sign off on believing in the party's founding principles before I could write that cheque, and actually, I can get behind them, as long as they're not code for something. Seriously, how could I NOT believe in universal health care, living up to the constitution, freedom, ethics and accountablity? There's no mention of motherhood or apple pie, but I'm for them, too, as long as the pie's pastry is made with lard and the mother teaches their children good table manners and kindness.
We'll see whether it's good enough to get me into tonight's meeting.
Of course, if I'm kicked out of the meeting because of the job I hold, that might be a bit of a contradiction in the 'freedom' provision of those founding principles, wouldn't it? Plus, that would be a fun story to tell, too.
This winter though, I joined. I paid my ten bucks and joined the federal Conservative party.
I haven't suddenly become a fervent tax-cutter; joining is the only way to get into the Simcoe Grey nomination meeting, since the party is pretty strict about not letting members of 'the press' in. (note to the CPC: journalists are members of "the news media" now. I'm not sure even the newspapers use presses any more. Haven't since, like, the 90s...)
Now, I'm not the only journalist in the area to join up in Simcoe Grey just to get into the nomination meeting. At least one of my colleagues in the local media has also joined, also strictly as a way of getting in. Based on the neverending online chronicles of his disdain for and disgust with Chris Carrier, I'm guessing he's likely to cast a vote, too, but not for the former Collingwood mayor.
All three candidates have substantial strengths as far as I can see, and based on the huge number of 'phone calls I'm getting, all of them have good organisational skills.
I had to sign off on believing in the party's founding principles before I could write that cheque, and actually, I can get behind them, as long as they're not code for something. Seriously, how could I NOT believe in universal health care, living up to the constitution, freedom, ethics and accountablity? There's no mention of motherhood or apple pie, but I'm for them, too, as long as the pie's pastry is made with lard and the mother teaches their children good table manners and kindness.
We'll see whether it's good enough to get me into tonight's meeting.
Of course, if I'm kicked out of the meeting because of the job I hold, that might be a bit of a contradiction in the 'freedom' provision of those founding principles, wouldn't it? Plus, that would be a fun story to tell, too.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Right Ratio
I've finally found it- the perfect balance, and just in time for the arrival of spring.
I have finally found the perfect number of cheap sunglasses to balance off my terrible memory.
I wear sunglasses outside all the time; in sunshine and cloud, hanging laundry, walking in the rain, always. I don't know if I have particularly sensitive eyes or what, but I just can't leave the house without them.
The problem is the several minutes I spend searching for a pair to wear every single time I go outdoors. I don't know where they all go, but it's usually troublesome trying to find a pair of the blessed things in whatever purse, bag or coat I have.
This week, I figured it out. I lost several pairs last summer and bought three new ones this fall, but still spent a lot of time looking for a pair to wear. In the rain one day, headed out to walk the dog, I donned my slicker, and found in the pockets not one, not two, but three pairs of sunglasses. Yes, in my raincoat. Don't even ask, I say.
I've put the 'extra' glasses into rotation, and suddenly,I am never searching for a pair.
Whenever I come across a pair on the kitchen counter, by the back door, in the car, my shoes, the dog's crate or even on the back of the toilet, I make a point of dropping them off in the 'staging area' by the front door.
Then, when I go out, there's always a pair there and I'm not wasting so much time.
The magic number? It's eight. I think. They're never in the same place at once, so it's hard to tell.
I have finally found the perfect number of cheap sunglasses to balance off my terrible memory.
I wear sunglasses outside all the time; in sunshine and cloud, hanging laundry, walking in the rain, always. I don't know if I have particularly sensitive eyes or what, but I just can't leave the house without them.
The problem is the several minutes I spend searching for a pair to wear every single time I go outdoors. I don't know where they all go, but it's usually troublesome trying to find a pair of the blessed things in whatever purse, bag or coat I have.
This week, I figured it out. I lost several pairs last summer and bought three new ones this fall, but still spent a lot of time looking for a pair to wear. In the rain one day, headed out to walk the dog, I donned my slicker, and found in the pockets not one, not two, but three pairs of sunglasses. Yes, in my raincoat. Don't even ask, I say.
I've put the 'extra' glasses into rotation, and suddenly,I am never searching for a pair.
Whenever I come across a pair on the kitchen counter, by the back door, in the car, my shoes, the dog's crate or even on the back of the toilet, I make a point of dropping them off in the 'staging area' by the front door.
Then, when I go out, there's always a pair there and I'm not wasting so much time.
The magic number? It's eight. I think. They're never in the same place at once, so it's hard to tell.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Libya and Us
Here go our soldiers to another dry, dusty, far-off country to battle desperate people whose reasons for fighting aren't really clear to us. Could it be, ten years from now, we'll find ourselves debating whether to extend the deadline for our troops being in Libya?
How is it that this hideous dictator has been in power for longer than I've been alive, and yet only now we're urgently trying to oust him? How was the Locherbie bombing not reason enough to go after Moamar Ghadaffi?
The thing is, the battle for Libya certainly didn't start as a quest for democracy. It's a fight over food.
Wheat prices are at their highest in a generation. Last summer's fires in Russia and floods in western Canada have been good news for Ontario's wheat farmers, who are making huge profits, some of them for the first time in their lives. But the connectedness of the world means when an Ontario farmer wins, a Libyan peasant loses. Ditto in Egypt and Tunisia. The Tunisian riots that ousted that dictator, the Egyptian uprising, the current battles in Yemen and Bahrain and Libya, too, are not because of people clamouring for the right to free assembly. All those rebellions began with people demading enough to eat.
Sudan's succession story is the same. Lake Chad has dried up, starving millions and forcing the survivors to fight over what's left. And get ready to hear more of these stories from around the world. Russia is on the brink, and India's failed onion crop has led to riots in the streets, too.
Of course, the presence of oil has a lot to do with the world's response in Libya.
And in that light, I find it less than stunning that we were so quick to commit to putting our soldiers in harm's way, when we here in the rich rich west won't commit to doing very much at all to protect the planet itself.
Oh sure, some of us will turn off our lights for an hour Saturday night and feel self-righteous about it, but come on, what changes have we really made to reduce our emissions?
Most of us aren't willing even to sacrifice a piece of the view out our backyard window.
How is it that this hideous dictator has been in power for longer than I've been alive, and yet only now we're urgently trying to oust him? How was the Locherbie bombing not reason enough to go after Moamar Ghadaffi?
The thing is, the battle for Libya certainly didn't start as a quest for democracy. It's a fight over food.
Wheat prices are at their highest in a generation. Last summer's fires in Russia and floods in western Canada have been good news for Ontario's wheat farmers, who are making huge profits, some of them for the first time in their lives. But the connectedness of the world means when an Ontario farmer wins, a Libyan peasant loses. Ditto in Egypt and Tunisia. The Tunisian riots that ousted that dictator, the Egyptian uprising, the current battles in Yemen and Bahrain and Libya, too, are not because of people clamouring for the right to free assembly. All those rebellions began with people demading enough to eat.
Sudan's succession story is the same. Lake Chad has dried up, starving millions and forcing the survivors to fight over what's left. And get ready to hear more of these stories from around the world. Russia is on the brink, and India's failed onion crop has led to riots in the streets, too.
Of course, the presence of oil has a lot to do with the world's response in Libya.
And in that light, I find it less than stunning that we were so quick to commit to putting our soldiers in harm's way, when we here in the rich rich west won't commit to doing very much at all to protect the planet itself.
Oh sure, some of us will turn off our lights for an hour Saturday night and feel self-righteous about it, but come on, what changes have we really made to reduce our emissions?
Most of us aren't willing even to sacrifice a piece of the view out our backyard window.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
A Cure for What Ails You III
I think I may have hit the motherlode when it comes to defeating the bug of the late-winter blues.
The next time you're in whatever shade of funk you're in, be it a blue funk, green, purple or pink, here's another surefire recipe for getting out of it:
Take two nieces and one nephew, ages 10, 8 and 4.
Add one grandmother and an afternoon at a fancy swimming pool.
Exercise patience and play every single game they want to play.
Praise their excellent deployment of creativity on the waterslides.
Indulge their desire for 'just another minute' in the hot tubs.
Leave before they're so tired they might get cranky.
Provide a sugary snack on the way home, again to avoid crankiness. Be sure not to give so much that you make them crazy.
Provide fun activities while you made dinner.
Feed the children well on homemade goodies, and listen as they tell the story of their day to your sweetheart.
Accept a gooey kiss from the four year old, accompanied by a spontaneous, "I love you, Auntie Missy."
Serves at least five days, maybe more.
The next time you're in whatever shade of funk you're in, be it a blue funk, green, purple or pink, here's another surefire recipe for getting out of it:
Take two nieces and one nephew, ages 10, 8 and 4.
Add one grandmother and an afternoon at a fancy swimming pool.
Exercise patience and play every single game they want to play.
Praise their excellent deployment of creativity on the waterslides.
Indulge their desire for 'just another minute' in the hot tubs.
Leave before they're so tired they might get cranky.
Provide a sugary snack on the way home, again to avoid crankiness. Be sure not to give so much that you make them crazy.
Provide fun activities while you made dinner.
Feed the children well on homemade goodies, and listen as they tell the story of their day to your sweetheart.
Accept a gooey kiss from the four year old, accompanied by a spontaneous, "I love you, Auntie Missy."
Serves at least five days, maybe more.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Public versus Private
There is such a thing as an unexpressed thought.
You might be surprised about that these days as so many of us tweet and update our facebook status and buzz and blog.
There are things I know about some of my facebook friends that I would prefer not to know. I'm certainly glad I'm not still a student posting my drunken thoughts as updates.
Writing things down, talking about them with friends, expressing yourself, these can all be very healthy pursuits. Perhaps, though, there are limits to what should be in the public realm.
I've been writing recently about the winter funk I found myself in this year, and having recently read Gretchen Rubin's excellent book, The Happiness Project, I think I know where it comes from. I get grumpy when living with secrets or holding back truths, and I've got a couple of doozies percolating in my background. Oh, they're nothing illegal immoral or even fattening, but still, I don't think these particular troubles belong in this space. The things I want to say might get me arrested or sued. Or worst of all, divorced.
For years, I kept a journal of my thoughts, faithfully writing in longhand in various and sundry books, some cloth-covered, some leatherbound and most recently, a quite elegant moleskine. I have the collection squirreled away for safekeeping. For whom I'm saving them, I don't quite know.
But when I started blogging and voicing commentaries for my radio show, I stopped writing in the journals. I had slowed considerably after the death of my father, it being too hard to go back to the nearby pages filled with anguish at his passing.
But today, I think I need to re-start, to put some of my ideas and musings in a private space, where I can look at them later and marvel at my naivete, or insightfulness.
I think the world would be a better place if Charlie Sheen got a journal, too, because really, some things are just not suitable for publication.
You might be surprised about that these days as so many of us tweet and update our facebook status and buzz and blog.
There are things I know about some of my facebook friends that I would prefer not to know. I'm certainly glad I'm not still a student posting my drunken thoughts as updates.
Writing things down, talking about them with friends, expressing yourself, these can all be very healthy pursuits. Perhaps, though, there are limits to what should be in the public realm.
I've been writing recently about the winter funk I found myself in this year, and having recently read Gretchen Rubin's excellent book, The Happiness Project, I think I know where it comes from. I get grumpy when living with secrets or holding back truths, and I've got a couple of doozies percolating in my background. Oh, they're nothing illegal immoral or even fattening, but still, I don't think these particular troubles belong in this space. The things I want to say might get me arrested or sued. Or worst of all, divorced.
For years, I kept a journal of my thoughts, faithfully writing in longhand in various and sundry books, some cloth-covered, some leatherbound and most recently, a quite elegant moleskine. I have the collection squirreled away for safekeeping. For whom I'm saving them, I don't quite know.
But when I started blogging and voicing commentaries for my radio show, I stopped writing in the journals. I had slowed considerably after the death of my father, it being too hard to go back to the nearby pages filled with anguish at his passing.
But today, I think I need to re-start, to put some of my ideas and musings in a private space, where I can look at them later and marvel at my naivete, or insightfulness.
I think the world would be a better place if Charlie Sheen got a journal, too, because really, some things are just not suitable for publication.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
No More Purple Hats
My sweetie and I are off to the curling rink this morning, desperately hoping not to come home with a purple hat. It's the annual bonspiel in support of Breaking Down Barriers, and I have a terrible history with the silent auction table.
Three years ago, I spotted a lovely purple hat, and another lovely set of purple hats and gloves. I bid on both, thinking there was no chance I would get both items, and trying to hedge my bets. Of course, by the end of the day, and several bids later, I had bought all of them.
The team I played on also won our draw, and the prize was...you guessed it, a hat. Orange with purple trim, which I wear often, like a bullrider would wear the beltbuckle they won.
Two years ago, I bid on a lovely set of sheets, thinking I needed a nice new set of white sheets for our bed. They were queen size, and I was happy to win them at the end of the day. Only to discover when I tried to install them, that there was a very good reason I was the sole bidder. They were incontinence sheets! Arrak!
So, my head is well covered, and if the day comes I need some coverage for my mattress, I'm good there, too.
Wish me luck today as I try to avoid embarrassment, both on the ice and the auction table.
Three years ago, I spotted a lovely purple hat, and another lovely set of purple hats and gloves. I bid on both, thinking there was no chance I would get both items, and trying to hedge my bets. Of course, by the end of the day, and several bids later, I had bought all of them.
The team I played on also won our draw, and the prize was...you guessed it, a hat. Orange with purple trim, which I wear often, like a bullrider would wear the beltbuckle they won.
Two years ago, I bid on a lovely set of sheets, thinking I needed a nice new set of white sheets for our bed. They were queen size, and I was happy to win them at the end of the day. Only to discover when I tried to install them, that there was a very good reason I was the sole bidder. They were incontinence sheets! Arrak!
So, my head is well covered, and if the day comes I need some coverage for my mattress, I'm good there, too.
Wish me luck today as I try to avoid embarrassment, both on the ice and the auction table.
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