This time last year, I had some things I wanted to do. I wanted to learn to run, lose some weight and get more fit. At the very least, I wanted to be able to tie my shoes without getting out of breath.
Check.
I'm down a dozen pounds, ran my first-ever race and I feel pretty good.
For me, the trick was to set a goal with a firm date, and never to take my eyes off it. It helped to be able to measure my progress, 1/10th of a pound or one extra minute of running at a time.
This year, my resolutions might be a bit trickier, as they're less less concrete than a number on a scale.
First off, I resolve to keep my fitness and slimness, a measurable and therefore manageable goal. But the other two will be tougher to figure out.
I want to become a better listener and a less-frequent complainer.
But how? But how do you measure such nebulous resolutions?
When I wanted to lose weight, I started by keeping track of everything I ate. Every calorie was counted, so I could understand what I was already doing, and from there, what I needed to change. It was pretty easy to figure that popcorn and beer for lunch four days a week do not make for a flat tummy.
But how do I measure how much time I spend bitching? How do I measure how much time I spent in active listening? I'm not sure there's an app for that.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
The Year that Was
I'm not sorry to see the end of 2011 and I bet you're not, either.
This has been a tough year, from natural disasters like the tsunami in Japan,to man-made ones, like the ongoing financial tsunami that continues to rock the world.
For me, it's been a year of growth and setbacks. In the growth department, I found out I could run, not fast or gracefully, but long enough to, as my brother puts it, "take a layer off" and reveal a healthier, stronger body and I like to think, a calmer mind. But in the setback area, I again repeated a distressing long-term pattern in my social life, getting a bruised heart from a friend who has turned out not to be a friend after all. Mostly, I am disappointed in myself for not seeing the tell-tale signs a whole lot sooner. It's that "fool me once" thing which is so embarrassing.
I've learned a lot in 2011 and I remain grateful that I get to do what I love for a living. I'm also grateful that I remain healthy and well-loved. Now, if only I can figure out a way to avoid repeating this year's mistakes...again.
This has been a tough year, from natural disasters like the tsunami in Japan,to man-made ones, like the ongoing financial tsunami that continues to rock the world.
For me, it's been a year of growth and setbacks. In the growth department, I found out I could run, not fast or gracefully, but long enough to, as my brother puts it, "take a layer off" and reveal a healthier, stronger body and I like to think, a calmer mind. But in the setback area, I again repeated a distressing long-term pattern in my social life, getting a bruised heart from a friend who has turned out not to be a friend after all. Mostly, I am disappointed in myself for not seeing the tell-tale signs a whole lot sooner. It's that "fool me once" thing which is so embarrassing.
I've learned a lot in 2011 and I remain grateful that I get to do what I love for a living. I'm also grateful that I remain healthy and well-loved. Now, if only I can figure out a way to avoid repeating this year's mistakes...again.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Poison for Pooches
I spent the afternoon at a vet clinic with my doggie, who had a bad case of chocolate breath. She was pretty happy, maybe even proud of herself when she arrived. She was less enthusiastic about her visit after being given the drugs necessary to rid her of her stolen treats.
While I was out, my beloved pooch gobbled down 50 bucks worth of chocolates. Not the cheap boxed-up kind from the department store, this was the good stuff. Dark and Belgian, from the lovely shop on the main street of Collingwood.
The thing about chocolate is, the better the quality, the worse it is for your puppy. The very very good stuff is basically poison for pooches. The vet said to bring her in immediately for a purging.
I wasn't there for the... shall we say, emptying, but I'm told it was a dark and disgusting mess, and the vet techs were shocked at the sheer volume of it. Further, my doggie had also managed to gulp down, seal-like, a package of wee rawhides meant for my sister in law's new puppy. Some of the knots at the ends were intact when they, ahem, saw the light, but some were missing, which means they might still need to pass.
And so, lucky me, I'm to inspect her backyard .... packages for scary rawhides for the next few days.
Before you think I'm a negligent doggy parent, be aware the chocolates and other goodies were not actually under the tree. They were behind the closed door of the spare bedroom. At least, we sure thought it was closed. How she managed to get in, I have no idea. The replacement chocolates are now in the closet of said bedroom, whose door swings out. So unless the dog is going to remove the hinges, I think we're safe.
One surprise from the adventure: my puppy doesn't like the booze-filled chocolates. Each of them was squished but left dripping on the duvet. Even doggies have their preferences, I guess.
A huge Thank You to the lovely owner of the chocolate shop who gave me a discount on my replacement goodies when she heard my tale of woe. Also thank you to Drs. Bell and Gilpin at Bellbrae Animal Hospital. Sorry for the mess.
While I was out, my beloved pooch gobbled down 50 bucks worth of chocolates. Not the cheap boxed-up kind from the department store, this was the good stuff. Dark and Belgian, from the lovely shop on the main street of Collingwood.
The thing about chocolate is, the better the quality, the worse it is for your puppy. The very very good stuff is basically poison for pooches. The vet said to bring her in immediately for a purging.
I wasn't there for the... shall we say, emptying, but I'm told it was a dark and disgusting mess, and the vet techs were shocked at the sheer volume of it. Further, my doggie had also managed to gulp down, seal-like, a package of wee rawhides meant for my sister in law's new puppy. Some of the knots at the ends were intact when they, ahem, saw the light, but some were missing, which means they might still need to pass.
And so, lucky me, I'm to inspect her backyard .... packages for scary rawhides for the next few days.
Before you think I'm a negligent doggy parent, be aware the chocolates and other goodies were not actually under the tree. They were behind the closed door of the spare bedroom. At least, we sure thought it was closed. How she managed to get in, I have no idea. The replacement chocolates are now in the closet of said bedroom, whose door swings out. So unless the dog is going to remove the hinges, I think we're safe.
One surprise from the adventure: my puppy doesn't like the booze-filled chocolates. Each of them was squished but left dripping on the duvet. Even doggies have their preferences, I guess.
A huge Thank You to the lovely owner of the chocolate shop who gave me a discount on my replacement goodies when she heard my tale of woe. Also thank you to Drs. Bell and Gilpin at Bellbrae Animal Hospital. Sorry for the mess.
The Christmas Gamble
I've been struggling this Christmas with charity, and I don't think I'm alone wondering how it's possible so very many people could possibly need as much stuff as is being donated to food banks and toy drives.
I don't mean to be all Scroogy, but seriously, I saw turkeys for a $1.49 a pound at one of the grocery stores this week, which translates to only about 10 bucks for a decent-sized bird.
If they're that cheap, how is is possible there are people lining up at 7 this morning at Chris Dopp's mortgage brokerage to get a free one? And (OK, this IS a bit scroogy...) if you can get up at 7 am to get a free turkey, why can't you get up at 7am to go to a job?
I am confused, wondering whether some of the people receiving all our donations might not be simply cheap, perhaps lazy or maybe even scamming the system.
Before you think me a big meany, let me tell you I know for a fact there are people in assisted housing who use whatever welfare is called now for huge plasma TVs, iPhones and $10-a-day cigarette habits. No, not all of them, but they do exist and let's not pretend otherwise.
I put these uncomfortable facts to some lovely friends of mine at a gathering this week and their reply was, "I'm OK with that."
"How?" I wanted to know.
They explained how they see their Christmas giving: It's a gamble. Yes, there are cheaters and liars and thieves. But there are also people in genuine need, who are working hard but somehow just not getting their chunk of the pie. My friends said they are confident SOME of their giving gets to those people, so it's worth it.
That's the conundrum of giving, isn't it: is knowing you're being ripped off OK if you also know at least a bit of your largess is going where it belongs?
Come to think of it, we wrap up those gadgets and geegaws and put them under the tree for our loved ones trying, but never really knowing if the present is going to be appreciated. But we give anyway, gambling that we will hit the mark and make someone's day.
I don't mean to be all Scroogy, but seriously, I saw turkeys for a $1.49 a pound at one of the grocery stores this week, which translates to only about 10 bucks for a decent-sized bird.
If they're that cheap, how is is possible there are people lining up at 7 this morning at Chris Dopp's mortgage brokerage to get a free one? And (OK, this IS a bit scroogy...) if you can get up at 7 am to get a free turkey, why can't you get up at 7am to go to a job?
I am confused, wondering whether some of the people receiving all our donations might not be simply cheap, perhaps lazy or maybe even scamming the system.
Before you think me a big meany, let me tell you I know for a fact there are people in assisted housing who use whatever welfare is called now for huge plasma TVs, iPhones and $10-a-day cigarette habits. No, not all of them, but they do exist and let's not pretend otherwise.
I put these uncomfortable facts to some lovely friends of mine at a gathering this week and their reply was, "I'm OK with that."
"How?" I wanted to know.
They explained how they see their Christmas giving: It's a gamble. Yes, there are cheaters and liars and thieves. But there are also people in genuine need, who are working hard but somehow just not getting their chunk of the pie. My friends said they are confident SOME of their giving gets to those people, so it's worth it.
That's the conundrum of giving, isn't it: is knowing you're being ripped off OK if you also know at least a bit of your largess is going where it belongs?
Come to think of it, we wrap up those gadgets and geegaws and put them under the tree for our loved ones trying, but never really knowing if the present is going to be appreciated. But we give anyway, gambling that we will hit the mark and make someone's day.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Alphabet Ransom
My O is safely home, and no ransom was needed.
Earlier this week, a manilla envelope marked, 'Occupant' arrived at my door, and inside wrapped in tissue, was the O stolen from my Christmas decoration set of letters spelling out NOEL.
Also inside, a note from the Alphabet Shelter for Wayward Vowels, which explained how my errant O had been dropped off at the door by a woman with Collingwood on her breath and regret in her heart.
It was very, very clever.
And now that I'm more sure of the culprit, I'm already planning the payback.
Earlier this week, a manilla envelope marked, 'Occupant' arrived at my door, and inside wrapped in tissue, was the O stolen from my Christmas decoration set of letters spelling out NOEL.
Also inside, a note from the Alphabet Shelter for Wayward Vowels, which explained how my errant O had been dropped off at the door by a woman with Collingwood on her breath and regret in her heart.
It was very, very clever.
And now that I'm more sure of the culprit, I'm already planning the payback.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Christopher Hitchens Gets His Answer
A giant thinker is finding out today whether he was right. Wouldn't you love to know whether Christopher Hitchens will meet his maker or just turn to dust?
Regardless of whether you agreed with him, Hitchens made a powerful argument for atheism. He was part of a group of thinkers who came to prominence in the last few years arguing that organised religion, especially as it's practised in the world now, is more of an evil than a force for good.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali, whose body was mutilated in the name of faith and whose life is under constant threat because of her writings, Sam Harris, whose musings on Christianity are really a call to arms, Richard Dawkins and Hitchens are the four "riders of the apocalypse" if you will.
I read them all, all in a row, during a several-month period I spent doing some pretty tough questioning of my own beliefs.
A couple of things struck me during that time:
First, Hitchens' writing is smooth and beautiful and well-argued but in person, in interviews, he was snarky and rude. Harris is smooth and reasonable in person and in interviews but his writing is snarky and rude.
Second, many complaints about religion hinge on the argument that the faithful can be nasty and awful and cruel. It's true, but it's a silly argument. Electricity still exists whether the guy who's twisting the wires is nice or not.
And third, people are downright uncomfortable talking about whether they believe in God. Several otherwise thoughtful people whose opinions I sought were huffy and defensive as they told me there's simply no such thing as an atheist. And no, they didn't want to borrow the books.
Rest in Peace, Hitch. Not that you think the sentiment does you any good.
Regardless of whether you agreed with him, Hitchens made a powerful argument for atheism. He was part of a group of thinkers who came to prominence in the last few years arguing that organised religion, especially as it's practised in the world now, is more of an evil than a force for good.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali, whose body was mutilated in the name of faith and whose life is under constant threat because of her writings, Sam Harris, whose musings on Christianity are really a call to arms, Richard Dawkins and Hitchens are the four "riders of the apocalypse" if you will.
I read them all, all in a row, during a several-month period I spent doing some pretty tough questioning of my own beliefs.
A couple of things struck me during that time:
First, Hitchens' writing is smooth and beautiful and well-argued but in person, in interviews, he was snarky and rude. Harris is smooth and reasonable in person and in interviews but his writing is snarky and rude.
Second, many complaints about religion hinge on the argument that the faithful can be nasty and awful and cruel. It's true, but it's a silly argument. Electricity still exists whether the guy who's twisting the wires is nice or not.
And third, people are downright uncomfortable talking about whether they believe in God. Several otherwise thoughtful people whose opinions I sought were huffy and defensive as they told me there's simply no such thing as an atheist. And no, they didn't want to borrow the books.
Rest in Peace, Hitch. Not that you think the sentiment does you any good.
Monday, December 5, 2011
To Card or Not to Card
It's not exactly Shakespeare, but it is a question facing some of us this Christmas, as technology continues seep into every corner of our lives.
For a lot of us, the question of whether to send Christmas greetings in the mail has already been decided long ago.
I have 271 friends on facebook, and most of them are also on my Christmas card list, so why would I bother picking up a pen and buying stamps when I can send a Christmas greeting to every one of them with two dozen keystrokes and the click of a mouse?
But still, Bing Crosby didn't sing about status updates, did he?
While I debated whether to bring out the big box and start addressing Christmas cards I snap up at the Boxing Day sales every year, my first missive of the season landed in the mailbox, right there beside the hydro bill.
It was a hand-addressed wish for a happy end to the year from someone I care about, but rarely see. They had taken the time to write my name. In pen, and they even slipped in a picture of their adorable little kids with the sparkly silver card.
It made my day. So it only makes sense to try to make some other friend's day. I'm hauling out my pen, and looking for my address book, the one with with the postal codes.
Hey, what do stamps cost these days?
For a lot of us, the question of whether to send Christmas greetings in the mail has already been decided long ago.
I have 271 friends on facebook, and most of them are also on my Christmas card list, so why would I bother picking up a pen and buying stamps when I can send a Christmas greeting to every one of them with two dozen keystrokes and the click of a mouse?
But still, Bing Crosby didn't sing about status updates, did he?
While I debated whether to bring out the big box and start addressing Christmas cards I snap up at the Boxing Day sales every year, my first missive of the season landed in the mailbox, right there beside the hydro bill.
It was a hand-addressed wish for a happy end to the year from someone I care about, but rarely see. They had taken the time to write my name. In pen, and they even slipped in a picture of their adorable little kids with the sparkly silver card.
It made my day. So it only makes sense to try to make some other friend's day. I'm hauling out my pen, and looking for my address book, the one with with the postal codes.
Hey, what do stamps cost these days?
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