Our Complicated Relationship

I get a little tense when I see a police officer, no matter what the circumstances.

Don't you?

It's almost never a good thing to be dealing with the police: you're in trouble, getting a ticket, have just been in a car crash, or horror of horrors, are getting hideous news at your front door. We who work in the news media have a particularly fraught relationship with police since they generally don't want to give us information we would like about cases or situations they're handling.

Last spring was particularly tough, with the violence of the G20, and the embarrassment that has followed for many officers accused of being, shall we say, too diligent in their work controlling the unruly crowds.

But with some of his final words, York Region Constable Garret Styles did more to repair the reputation of police than seven hundred inquests and inquiries into the G20 could have done.

As he lay under that minivan yesterday morning, trapped and mortally wounded, he worried to a dispatcher about the children in the car on top of him, the teenagers who had no drivers' licences and no business being on the road at five in the morning. Even as he asked for help for himself, his concern was also for the kids who killed him. That's the epitome of service to the community, in my mind.

Today, I'm thinking about the (admittedly few) police officers of my acquaintance, and about the fact that every day, they go to work with the knowledge they could be killed on the job. I'm thinking about my buddy Trevor, one of the kindest people I've ever known, my high school friend Paula, my OPP colleagues Mark and Martin and my new friend Terry who serves with the RCMP. Thank you for your work, and yes, I promise, I'll slow down!

Serve, protect

A police officer died in the line of duty not far from here last night.

Regardless of the circumstances of what happened near Newmarket, a man who went to work last night is not coming home today.

Sometime in the next five or so days, thousands of police officers from across North America will converge on the area to pay their respects.

During those pomp-filled ceremonies, I always wonder whether the families of the fallen were truly prepared for being a mourner. Is there some training for it? And, if they had an idea of what it would be like to be in that procession, would they ever have let their loved one of of the house?

Movie Review: Bridesmaids

I wasn't expecting to cry at a movie that's been talked about as ''Hangover' for women'. I certainly wasn't expecting to be astonished. But I was.

Bridesmaids has been billed as a raunchy romp that finally lets the girls show that they can be just as gross as the guys. And it is, but it is much more, too.

So often, the entertainment media treat women's relationships as magical, life-long and deep, (Beaches), or as shallow, vain and competitive, (pretty much any situation comedy). Worse, female characters in general are are often silent eye candy or worse, merely the murder victim.

It was refreshing to see fraught female friendships explored in a way that felt frank, fresh and honest. As someone who has been hurt by the death of deep friendships which just didn't stand the test of time and trouble, it was satisfying to see situations similar to mine play themselves out through the movie makers' imagination.

I'll see it again, if any of my girlfriends want to come along.

Physiow!

If there were anyone who could get hurt trying to get up off the couch, I guess I'm it.

As I get ready for this blasted 5K race in October with my niece, brother and sister in law, I thought I was taking it easy. I'm using a program that is supposed to slowly build up my strength and endurance. I actually thought it was, well, wimpy when I started. Eight minute-long runs interspersed with brisk walking. Ha - I laugh at you, trail!

Well, the joke's on me when I can no longer take the stairs at my house.
It seems my knees need to be eased in even more easily. They were screaming so much last week, I figured my shoes were wrong, I needed orthotics, had ripped something or needed a knee replacement.

Nope. I just run wrong.

Of course, the physiotherapist I hired to do a 'gait analysis' was far too polite to use words like awkward freak, weirdo, pigeon-toed, knock kneed or ridiculous as we looked at the video of my run on her treadmill, but I'll tell you, it was an eye-opener. Let's just say I'm not quite the graceful gazelle of my imagination.

It also turns out that I have weak hips and a weak core, and both need strengthening to save my knees. So, now, before and after my six or so minutes of running, I'm doing about 20 minutes of warming up and stretching and strengthening so I don't have to collapse on the trail in tears any more.

Also while running, I can't just look around at the trees and birds. While taking smaller steps and landing in the middle of my foot, I need to focus on brushing my hips with my thumbs while carrying imaginary eggs, keeping my shoulders far from my ears and thinking about the muscles in my butt, which, by they way are almost non-existent.

Oh, the stuff we'll do to make a memory...

The Fun Police

I remember the bad old days when everyone tried so hard to be 'politically correct', and I kind of thought those days had ended. After all, it's exhausting being perpetually indignant. And while social media provides lots of fodder for people to indignant about, not all of the upset is deserved.

Now, I get the issue with the unfortunately named US congress member, Anthony Weiner. He is very appropriately having his last day on the job today because he sent pictures of his member to women he'd met on facebook and twitter. That's just rank stupidity and frankly, very creepy.

But I really think we should let off the hook the Toronto city councillor who tweeted yesterday that he loved his job because he got to hang out with hot chicks at a plaque unveiling ceremony. Have you been to a plaque unveiling? While it's very nice for the folks being honoured, you must admit they can be hokey and boring. Often, there's a dearh of snacks. Having someone good looking nearby would certainly help pass the time.

So I agree with Rob Parker's refusal to apologise after he removed the tweet. Here's what he had to say to the Toronto Sun when asked he'd learned a lesson: "If the lesson of the day is you can’t have any fun around here, then no one is going to have any fun. If people are going to look for ways to take offence in circumstances where no offence is intended and no offence has been taken and third parties insist in finding offence on their own, that’s a bad day for all of us."

He's right. No offence was intended, and none was taken. Let's let go of the gotchas and look for real things to talk about. Who was being honoured on those plaques, anyway?

Junk Mail Junk Male?

I'm happy to say no one has ever sent me a lewd photo, digitally or otherwise. I'm not sad about this and believe me, I'm not soliciting your photos.

But I just can't stop thinking about (and giggling about) the unfortunately named US congress member who sent pictures of his underpants to women he'd met through text messages, on Twitter and on facebook. The guy's name is Weiner, for heavensake! Seriously. You couldn't make this stuff up.

Weiner (insert chortle here) refuses to resign amid the scandal, proudly claiming he didn't actually have affairs with these women, at least not any real, physical contact. Apparently he got married to a very accomplished woman during the same time frame that he was sending these missives, an aide who works for Hillary Clinton, and the wife is now pregnant.

I'm completely gobsmacked by the whole thing. Why on earth would anyone imagine that sending photos of your privates would get you anywhere?
Have these social networking sites changed us so much that this is now considered courting?

Flowers, buddy. Jewellery. Never, never never a picture of your package. I don't need to know if you're left handed until we're better acquainted, and we can discuss your religion at dinner.

My Hockey Top Ten

The Canucks' run for the cup has reminded me why I don't watch hockey.
Don't get me wrong- I love it. And I'm not about to have my passport confiscated for saying otherwise.

But there are so many reasons to hate NHL hockey on TV that I just can't watch, at least not through the regular season.

The Leafs, for example.
They're numbers one through four on any top-ten list of reasons not to watch hockey. Not just because it's so patently obvious the owners don't give a skunk's hindleg whether the team ever wins again, or even Makes the playoffs, but also because there should be a team to give them a run for their money in their own neighbourhood.

And that brings us to reason number 5: Gary Bettman. For any Canadian who wants more teams in Canada, Gary Bettman is a good reason to give up on hockey, because it's patently obvious not only that he doesn't give a skunk's hindleg about Canada, but also that his expansion plan to the U.S. is silly and doomed.

So those are reasons one through five not to watch hockey. Here are the rest:

6: the crazy, humiliating sounds that come out of me when Vancouver's on a breakaway, or there's a big hit.
7: the crazy, humiliating suspension given on a clean hit to a guy who had his head down.
8: the sore muscles in my rear end from sitting on the edge of my seat through the past four games. (well, period three of game three was a less edge of the seat and more edge of night, but still...)
9: listening to the folks who say there's no such thing as a Canadian team, YES YES I heard you when you said that all the teams are Canadian if you look at the hometowns..

And the final reason on my top ten list of reasons not to watch hockey... Did I mention the leafs?