Putting the fun in dysfunctional

I originally posted this about four years ago, but I think it bears repeating.

Let’s face it, Norman Rockwell wasn’t a documentarian, Martha Stewart likely dines alone over the sink, and Hallmark makes it all up. So, if you, like me, have a family gathering coming up in the next while in honour of Christmas, I offer the following tips (some of them tongue in cheek,) for getting through a day or a meal with some of your more… interesting relatives:

1. Focus on the children.
They have not yet been completely messed up by their messed-up parents so there’s actually hope for a decent conversation if they’re old enough to speak. Don’t ask a lot of questions- just get down there and play with them. Be the fun auntie or uncle who really takes time for them. Be warned, they might not realize that you’re using them as a diversion and may take to clinging to your leg. This also can be helpful, as it takes up tons of time that would otherwise be spent hearing from their parents about how marvelous or disappointing they are.

2. Focus on the food.
Being busy preparing things is an awesome way of not having to hear about how evolution doesn’t really exist, or how auntie so-and-so did cousin such-and-such wrong this year. Prepare complicated and difficult dishes so you’ll look like you’re putting a lot of effort into the family rather than avoiding them.

3. Have a project.
Bring a notebook or some paper and ask everyone for recipes or favourite memories of Christmases past or something like that. It provides a natural talking point and can help you avoid hearing the stories about this year’s surgeries and other disgusting medical issues.

4. Drink heavily.
Kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? Plus, it might have the added benefit of providing a distraction if your two uncles look like they’re actually going to have that long-threatened fistfight; you could provide a way for everyone to think about something else.

5. Be an anthropologist.
This one is handy only if you’re in the right mood, but it can extremely useful for the particularly difficult family. Pretend you’ve been dropped on foreign soil and must report back to your mother country on the attitudes and mores of the inhabitants with an eye to beginning trade talks or an invasion. Ask lots of questions, and do what you can to remember the answers as though you really were writing a report, because you are. When you’re telling your friends about the craziness you experienced at the Christmas dinner table, you’ll want to be well prepared with the inevitable details they’ll ask for.

6. Have some fun with it.
This is a tip only for the very, very brave or those who have taken tip #4 a little too seriously. Ask the crazy conservative about Sarah Palin, talk to the atheist about the vast void of nothingness that follows death, or even question the closeted about their love life. While asking the obviously closeted about romance might seem odd, it does the triple duty of a)providing a timekiller, b)giving the relative the chance to use the stories they’ve been making up for just such a situation and c)(bonus) provides assurance their secret remains safe.)

Here’s hoping your Christmas dinner is delicious and entertaining.

Vitamins and Hope

Goodbye, Ginko; see ya, C and it's a denoument for D.

Researchers at Johns Hopkins University have said formally and with research what I have believed for a long time: vitamins and other supplements are a waste of time and money. They do nothing for your health. Nothing. Actually, some of them have been proven to hurt your health, according to the researchers.

What a relief! I own vitamins, but I very rarely take them, not only because my memory is poor, but I have always just somehow figured they didn't really do anything. My sweetie faithfully puts an effervescent Vitamin C pill into his water each morning and while I wonder about it and I generally don't join him, I don't say much about it because his mom swears by it and who am I to argue?

We want to believe vitamins work, because it's so much easier in our minds to take a pill than to eat right, which is more veggies, less fast food, less fat and generally fewer calories. Many of us feel like we're OK to pig out on the burgers and chips: we're covered because we took a multi-vitamin this morning.

I don't exactly know why, but I was never convinced. Now I can feel safe throwing them out and I don't have to waste money buying new ones; the researchers have proven there's just no point.

But don't worry about the companies involved in the 20 billion dollar vitamin and supplement business. The people who believe in vitamins won't believe this news, no matter what pedigree of scientist says they're useless. After all, Mom said so.

And I vow to say nothing, except maybe under my breath.

Oprah and Me

It's not often I find myself in league with Oprah Winfrey, but today's one of those rare occasions.

In an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, Oprah Winfrey, who single-handedly changed the broadcasting and publishing industry, who consistently makes the Forbes list of highest paid people, who is, well, OPRAH, still has to answer questions about why she doesn't have children.

Graciously, she deigns to answer those questions. But why should she have to? Why must a woman have reproduced to be considered whole? It's certainly not a question men get.

Many of the people like me, people without our own children, glory in our nieces and nephews, cousins and others and have plenty of love to give without feeling the burning need to bring another person into this crazy, mixed-up world. And yet, those among us who remain child-free continually get asked why we didn't get on the Mommy Train.

Somehow, people don't think it's rude to ask why I haven't given birth, but somehow I know it is not acceptable to ask a woman why on earth she -did- give birth: 'You know your husband is nasty, right? You don't have a job, you're emotionally a mess, you're not, um, very good at it...'

It's OK to admit it - there are actually crappy mothers out there, and you have met them.

Why can't we ask those tough questions of the mothers, but childless me is left stammering and red-faced at family gatherings trying to come up with a gracious answer to a rude question?

Just once, I would like to reply to a Judgy Questioner, "I love my children too much to put them in a playgroup with yours." But that would just get me into trouble, wouldn't it?

A Fall of Gratitude

I have been having a rather magical autumn filled with travel and some guilt-free self-indulgence.

My sweetheart and I took a sunshine getaway the first week of November, to a resort that was quiet but lovely with terrific food and a beautiful beach. Last week, I spent four nights with my best girlfriends in Jamaica, on a spur-of-the-moment trip so one of us could use up her (very generous) vacation time for the year. Tonight, I have a rather expensive ticket to a concert in Toronto. I think the last big concert I went to was The Grateful Dead in Hamilton in 1993, so I may not quite know how to 'do' a concert properly, especially since P!nk will take the stage well after my usual bed-time.

No, we didn't win a lottery, at least not in the way one usually thinks of it.

In the last seven or eight months, I have received pieces of news about friends and acquaintances that have led me to make some changes in my life. I'm being more careful about my time, and less worried about lot of other things.

First off, I looked up an old friend from my days in Toronto, only to find out he is going through a terrifying and horrible ordeal; his wife diagnosed with cancer as she gave birth to their first child. Imagine, the joy of a healthy baby and fifteen seconds later, whap! a five-year survival rate of about 20 percent.

Secondly, a woman I was friends with but with whom I had lost touch recently passed away at less than 50 years old. This girl was funny and fun and had survived some very serious health issues. Her marriage didn't survive, though, and some of the people I've been talking to say she died of a broken heart.

More recently, one of the most talented craftsmen I know, a man who saved my sanity when I was in big, big trouble a few years ago, was diagnosed with ALS. It's devastating to see him lose the use of his amazing hands and heartbreaking to imagine the conversations he is being forced to have with his wife and kids and the rest of his family.

And so, when I walk my dog, when I am stirring the sauce, when I am discussing my plans for Christmas, no matter what I'm doing, these people are nearby, their stories silently keeping me aware of how quickly time passes, how important it is to cherish the people you love. Their situations remind me to be sure I make the most of every day, to say YES (and NO), to give back, to be aware, to take the vacation. Because (and yes, I know this is a cliche...) you just never know what's next and you only get one turn in the game of life; best not to miss it.

Monday morning questions

I'm so torn on this whole Rob Ford thing: I feel a great deal of sorrow about the whole mess. It's 'fashionable' to feel sorry about it, according to one of many columnists I read this weekend, as though honest upset is impossible. That same columnist said it appeared as though Ford's 'catty' comments on Thursday had been rehearsed and Ford was pretty pleased to have said them, at the time at least. I thought the same thing upon my first watching, but dismissed my impression because really, who would be proud of such an utterance in front of a phalanx of reporters? The answer is, no one who would use the words utterance or phalanx.

Therein lies the great divide: Rob Ford won in Toronto on the politics of division, pitting the car-driving suburbanites against the subway-taking downtowners. Tim's versus Starbucks, and he's a Tim's guy, just like you!

But -is- he just like you? Yeah, you have a few hangovers in your history and a few things you're not particularly proud of, but how many of your friends are in jail?

Sure, you have some stories on the wild side, but have you ever been in a house that police characterize as a crack den? How often?

Do you know anyone who has been shot in a drug deal? Killed in gang activity?

Did you get yourself into a drunken stupor this weekend and accidentally take a drag on a crack pipe that just happened to be available? Were you at the kind of party that has crack?

Did you have a few drinks and get behind the wheel?

Has your spouse ever called 911 with an allegation of spousal assault?

Have you been arrested in possession of pot? How about for DUI?

Were you ever asked by a major organization not to appear at a public event like a football game or parade?

No? Well, clearly you're one of the snooty downtowners, you snob.

Personally, I don't pick who I vote for based on whether I want to hang out with them or whether their exploits are more or less embarrassing than mine. I try to vote for the smartest person on the ticket because the job they're doing is a complex one. I vote for the candidate I think is honest, because I want honest people handling my tax dollars. When I fill out my ballot, I don't feel that attending the same high school automatically earns a candidate my vote. When possible, I pick the person who's the smartest, the most honest and here's one more thing: the kindest. Kind with my money, and also kind, as in thoughtful and, for want of a better term, good. If a potential representative seems smart but also mean, I hesitate.

Maybe I'm alone in this, but whether I could down a beer (or ten) with a candidate, or where they buy their coffee just never,ever comes into consideration.

The cat's out of the bag

Just when I thought it simply could not get any worse for Canadian politics, it gets a little worse each day, and that was months ago.

Did you see today's scrum at City Hall in Toronto? All of it? Unedited?

Well, if you're a voter in Toronto, you should.

So Proud I Think My Heart Might Burst

I was away on a cheapy sunshine holiday when last week's round of revelations came surrounding Rob Ford. We didn't turn our in-room television on until about day three, and there was good ole Toronto, front and centre on the BBC and CNN. It's been kind of funny the last few months, watching a loudmouth get his comeuppance, but watching Ford's humiliation was kind of squirm-inducing, actually. I was embarrassed to have lived in Toronto at one point, to see one of my favourite places turned into an international laughingstock.

During the trip, we made friends with a group of lovely people who had been to our resort more than a dozen times and who self-identified as members of Ford Nation. The admission from Ford that he had smoked crack was cracking their resolve to continue supporting him. One of the women said she was done with Ford although her husband remained unmoved. He was definitely buying into the 'Who among us hasn't sinned?' argument being put forward, sticking to his guns that it doesn't matter what Ford does on his off-hours since he's watching the cash and 'stopping the gravy train'.

I'd be interested to hear what Steve has to say today, with allegations in the newly-unredacted court documents that the 'gravy train' actually appears to have a fully furnished stop in Rob Ford's office. Ford is said to have given big raises (yes, in tax dollars) to staff members who stayed after the mass exodus in June. He's said to have sent workers to do chores at his house during work hours and also to have sent workers, during work hours, to the liquor store on his behalf. He's said to have been drunk at work and also to have brought prostitutes to his office.

Most of us have done things we're not proud of, and I think that's why Ford has sustained his support this long; people see a bit of themselves in him. However, I suspect most of Ford Nation has also had an abusive boss somewhere along the line, someone who has different expectations of their workers than of themselves, who asks for stuff he shouldn't and who bullies berates and bribes underlings.

I'm guessing that Ford is starting to look less like the colleague who has a few 'too many pops' once in a while and more like a mean, out-of-control boss unafraid to put his hand in the cookie jar. Then again, loyalty is a funny thing, and many of us can find ways to explain away even the worst behaviour in the people we have chosen to support.

Just look at Leafs Nation if you need an example.