She's Baaaaaack!!!

OMG, Blogger is back for me!!!

I've been pathetically checking every day to see if the Big Mysterious Error has been unerrored, and lo! today it has been.

Seven days (or more) without blogging makes one weak.

That's my story and I'm sticking with it until tomorrow.

What really matters...according to me

I find myself, unusually for me, very distressed by the news. What I hear, and see online, about Iran: the internal repercussions, the reaction of both individuals and organizations, the seemingly clear heads on both sides, the passion, the senseless violence, unnerves me.

In my youth, even my middle age, there were sources that I trusted to tell me the truth. I won't mention them in case you scorn my naiveté, but I did have faith that if I heard it from so-and-so, it would be the truth.

I love that you can see all the sides of an issue now if you care to look, and that challenges are being laid out there but I have to say I miss the security of knowing that my source has it right.
How comforting it would be if after listening to all the takes on the issue of the election in Iran, I could know that despite how compelling X was, Y was telling the truth.

Maybe this inability to filter the media is what's leading to so many stories about Jon and Whats-her-name plus 8, the series about 23 people living together in a loft, or The Manhunter
---it doesn't really matter if it's true or not.

It matters about Iran.

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Creamy

Got Milk????

Struck to the shallow soul

When I was in my teens, most girls looked to Seventeen magazine for their best clues on how to be cool. I know I did. Month after month.

My daughter Sarah had all kinds of magazines she could have drawn on, none of which seemed to influence her the way Seventeen had impressed me, but she did have "Square Pegs" on TV to help her see how cookie-cutter was not the best role model; Emily had "Blossom".

All my kids were grown when "Freaks and Geeks" hit the scene, but I didn't let that stop me from watching it. I loved how unsalvageable, from the point of view of their peers, those kids were.

Something has happened to me. Tonight I saw with delight that one of the channels was running "F & Gs", but after 10 minutes, I knew I couldn't watch it. It made me cry. Really cry. And I was so angry at the manipulative "cool" kids and so pained by the vulnerability of the central characters that I had to turn it off.

I still think that being able to look at things from a distance, as you can with magazines, books, TV shows and movies, is a great way to figure out how you want to live and be seen to live. I just don't seem to have the backbone for it any more.

Is it nostalgia or good genes?

When you're young, and I was young when I met the people in this photo, you think that the friends you love at that time will always be your friends.

Sorry to break it to you, but that's not true. For good or bad reasons, friends drift apart.

That just isn't the case with these folks: Jolene and Gary, whom I met when I was 24 or so, and who stayed in my heart for the last 43 years, whether I was seeing them or not.

When I first met them, they had 3 kids; Garry (my first husband) and I had none. When we adopted Chris, these two, along with my mum and dad, brothers and sisters and another set of really good friends were waiting at the house to welcome Chris into their hearts, and from what I could see earlier this week, when they came to visit, they kept him there.

Now their kids have kids, and I'm in a different marriage, yet it was like being with family to be with them again. It's not that I'm surprised---more like I'm grateful. As an Army brat and an Army wife, I never really expected to have lifelong friends, and I do.



And so does Dave. But let's face it---he's more lovable than me.

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Lock

LORNA! LOCK THOSE LIPS AND THROW AWAY THE KEY....

A THOUGHT-LESS POST( and I mean it)

this is how sad I am that I can't seem to find time to write or read posts.

this is how tired I am because I'm trying to work and to one-up my sister, who's way younger than me.

this is how self-indulgent I am. No excuses.

Some things I've approached in a higgledy-piggledy way

Merriam-Webster’s
Word of the Day

June 6

higgledy-piggledy

\hig-ul-dee-PIG-ul-dee\

adverb

Meaning

: in a confused, disordered, or random manner

Example Sentence

Maya and Sandra looked in disbelief at the hundreds of photos of their father and mother scattered higgledy-piggledy across the floor, wondering how they were ever going to find the ideal ones for a photo collage.

panicky-soundingP

Did you know?

We really have no idea where "higgledy-piggledy" came from, but we do know it's a perfect example of English speakers' fondness for reduplication; that is, for forming new words by repetition of a base word with just a slight change of sound. In this case, the "base" word might actually be the second term, which is loosely reminiscent of "pig" and calls to mind the possible association of pigs with disorderliness. (Nathaniel Hawthorne, at least, noted a connection: "pigs, on a march, do not subject themselves to any leader among themselves, but pass on, higgledy-piggledy, without regard to age or sex.") We also know that the word has been around since before 1600; it appeared as a translation of an Italian word in a 1598 Italian-English dictionary. According to that dictionary, the Italian term could also be translated as "pell-mell" or "helter-skelter" — two other examples of reduplication.

Some things I've approached in a higgledy-piggledy way:

• my education
• my first marriage
• my career
• my retirement
• my bike ride last night

You must have known there would be a segué....

Last night, I looked down at what I was wearing and determined that it was reasonable for a bike ride, having no fluttery parts that can get caught up in a chain or parts that would suffer if I were too hot or rode through a sprinkler. So it was off to the parking garage to get my bike, put on my helmet, take a few tentative turns around the stay-at-homes' cars and head out for one of the many bikepaths and safe rides in the neighbourhood.

When I got out on the path that runs in front of my house, I heard this noise every time my right leg went through the pedalling cycle, and noticed that I'd headed out in my sandals, one of which was bent over the pedal and scraping along the ground.

No big deal---went back and got cycling-appropriate shoes and headed out---with no destination and no route in mind. I would never get past the garage door with my car if I did that, but it seemed, if not wise, adventurous.

I'm still at odds with my handlebars. I think they're rock-steady; they think they're free to go wherever they want. This makes for a new level of adventurous, but I know it'll get better.

It didn't get better last night. After poking around the neighbourhood and cautiously, then joyfully, coasting down a hill, I thought it was time to get back home. I headed up a service road to the bikepath and somehow came to a parting of the ways with my bike---first I slid along the gravel on my knee and wrist, then I bounced onto my back. I just lay there for a minute, eyes closed, glad I had a helmet on. I knew it was a service road and it was unlikely that something motorized would bear down on me, but unfortunately, the two young women who were taking an evening walk didn't. I opened my eyes to the scaredest faces ever, and a stream of panicky-sounding questions in what I think was Vietnamese.

I really was all right, just scraped and bruised, but it was difficult to make the young women believe that. Amongst us, we had "OK? OK! and Thank you" which we repeated back and forth at each other, until I hobbled off, holding up my bicycle, bicycle holding me up, making a higgledy-piggledy decision not to ride.

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Advertisement

I Get my come-uppance

It’s finally a fine day---sunny, warmish, not much wind. A fine day to walk to work.

As I was leaving the apartment building, I noticed a woman about 50 yards ahead of me, strolling along with a briefcase, and the thought jumped into my head that if we were both going the same way, I would probably stride past her and have to acknowledge her as my neighbour since we were both leaving from the same building. Since I didn’t recognize her that might be difficult.

After mulling it about in my head for a bit, I decided I would give her a nod and a “Lovely morning” when I passed her, then I settled down to serious walking-to-work thoughts like, “Cranberry or corn muffin?”, “Why did I think this shirt looks nice with these pants?” and “Damn, could you come any closer, Mr Cyclist?”

About half-way to work, I realized I hadn’t passed the stroller; in fact, she was now about 75 yards away, and still strolling.

By the time I got to work, by now feeling like a lame little old lady, she was out of sight. For now, I prefer to think that she ducked out to avoid my passing her.

Collage, collage

A family-intense weekend, with lots of loved ones around---it doesn't get better. clockwise from top left:
my sister Kathy and my daughter Emily, my daughter Sarah, Em again, my brother Pat, Emma Rose, and Sarah, Chris and Julia. ( Click to embiggen.....OMG!!! I've been waiting to say that)

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Books

Old dog learns....

I think I made a reasonable transition to the digital age.

I was born during the Second World War, so I personally experienced the introduction of the electric typewriter, the photo copy machine, the end of the rotary dial, the extinction of the Princess Phone, the frighteningly quick development of the home computer, the internet, the electronic agenda, the PDA, the Palm, the Blackberry and the I-Phone. The last is something I crave with whatever passion is left over from my family, books and chocolate. And blogging.

So it is with both shame and horror that I tell this story:

Yesterday I was having dinner with my dear sister Kathy, who normally is in Calgary, but was in my neighbourhood, and hungry. We chose what looked like a normal 4 on a scale of 5 restaurant, and sat down to be met with the perkiest, chattiest, fawningest, most accommodating server I've ever wanted to throttle.

That didn't do anything but give us the giggles because I see my sister once a year if I'm lucky and we were feeling magnaminous.

Partway through dinner, I could hear my cell phone ringing. It's old, it's creaky and worn, but it's serviceable; I'm old, creaky and worn so it's a reasonable match. I smartly opened the part of my bag where I keep the phone, having been told numerous times by my family how annoying it is that I can never find it when they call.

No phone. But the ringing continues.

I have an Ameribag. It's ergonomically correct, especially for someone with neck issues, and has cunning little pockets both inside and out. And most importantly, although not for this story, it's a gorgeous shade of olive green. I searched all its pockets, I searched inside the bag, I laid the bag down on the banquette and withthrew everything in it, frantically tossing things I really don't like to share with others.

Server, sister and assorted diners watched in fascination; I struggled to keep from shouting x-rated comments about cellphones and bags. The phone stopped ringing.

"I'm so sorry---I don't know what happened---this always happens to me," I mumbled, red-faced and trying to restuff my bag while remaining invisible.

To make things worse, my cosmetics bag opened as I was moving it from where I'd thrown it to where it lives, and mirror, really great lipstick and something I can't remember how to use fell on the floor.

I jumped up to retrieve them. No, I gracefully jumped up to retrieve them, and discovered my cellphone in the front pocket of my jeans.

Gotta have it?

Ever since I heard about them, I have longed, looooooonged for a Kindle. I couldn't imagine being able to justify the price, and I'd heard they weren't trouble-free so even though I longed, it was akin to longing for the ability to teleport. Numbers one and two on my list....

You can't order one from Canada, or so I hear.

That helps.

However, just in case it ever becomes possible for me to own a Kindle, especially the Kindle2, I'd love to hear what you think of them, especially if you own or use one.

I'm not worried about the reading part; I know I can read for hours from a screen, but I do wonder how it affects a person's relationship with books, and whether using a Kindle makes you more voracious a reader. I have so little room for books, but I love them. Still the physical parameters of life are real, and the Kindle seems like a good way to balance my need to read and my inability to absorb one more book into this apartment.

If I could teleport, I wouldn't need your advice.

But we know the answer to that one, so give me your best thoughts.

Second Thoughts

Some things I wish I hadn't done this weekend:

• decided to streamline my underwear drawer while watching TV resulting in severe loss of positive self-image
• bought that delicious chocolate frozen yogurt with the dark chocolate chunks adding to loss of positive self-image
  
• painted my knees and my palms with nail polish
• stayed up all Saturday night reading and drinking Zinfandel spritzers
• brought home fresh pineapple in an unopenable plastic box
  
• thrown that box onto the patio, forgetting about it overnight
• gone out to get the still unopenable box this morning while still in my nightgown
• had chicken for breakfast
  
• said something nasty under my breath in french to someone who only looked like an anglophone (I know, don't give me grief about that)
• heard something fall inside one of my kitchen cupboards while I'm sitting in the dark
• stepped on my cat a few minutes ago---stepping on cats is bad enough but it's extra worse when they're blind
• placed a large online order of the Ohmigod! kind
• started on the sixth of five books I'm reading simultaneously
• put on a toe-ring that both blackened my toe and bit through the underside of it
• started to think about things I wish I hadn't done
  

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Plastic

SO WRONG IN SO MANY WAYS!!

Using Antique Things Unwisely

Today, I have spent an inordinate amount of time in my bathroom---no, not too much information. I have taken to ironing in the bathroom. For those of you with sense or those of you under 30, ironing is a way of taking wrinkles out of your clothes by applying a steamy heavy thing to the garment stretched over the arrow-shaped table thing.

I personally don't mind ironing; I used to do it to "Wayne's World", then to " So I Married an Ax Murderer", then to Turner Classic Movies, which are easier to start than old videos, but in this apartment, I can't plug the iron in where I can see the TV.

Ironing in the bathroom is stupid though, because there you are in all your sweaty glory, watching yourself in the mirror. Even people who love ironing can't really do that without slouching out for a beer, or cursing the fact that no one has invented an affordable working wireless iron. The other thing I do while ironing, which drives me crazy, is running my hands over my nose to see if age is really giving me that same little red ball my Nanny had. I only do that because the mirror is there--I usually manage not to think very much about my nose.

Of course, now that I've written that, I can't stop thinking about my nose, so I have to go distract myself with some music I bought at a bar from the artist the other night, which will go very well with the book I'm reading: Christopher Moore's "Lamb", which is the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Friend.

I seem to be in a precious mood tonight.

An Unexpected and totally unwarranted thing happened on my way to Monday night

I was given an award.

This is the rationale and the rules:

The Noblesse Oblige Award

Details of Noblesse Oblige Award

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:

• The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervade amongst different cultures and beliefs
• Their Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions
• There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Cultures, Sciences and Beliefs
• The Blog is refreshing and creative.The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following:

• Create a post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award
• The Award Conditions must be displayed at the Post
• Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older posts as support
• The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions- Blogger must display the Award at any location at their Blog.

********

Having received and agreed to bask in this award, I should tell you about the person who presented it. This woman, surprisingly, calls herself NitWit 1 but belies that by being a woman of culture, public service, piety and charm. She loves dogs, which to me is a bit of a detriment, but to each her own.

MY TASKS AS RECIPIENT:

Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older posts as support

Some of the things my blog has achieved to date include:

• redefining some of our best-known occupations
• giving me a chance to both discover something and share it with others
• pushing me to decide which would be my 3 wishes if I ever had the chance

and occasionally, allowing me to rant

I have used my blog to tease my sisters, highlight my ability to speak french, be really, really nostalgic and squooshy, and to make friends I treasure. Equally I have inadvertently used it to annoy my children, expose my darker side, shock my acquaintances and fool some people into thinking they were just checking out a porn site.

The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions- Blogger must display the Award at any location at their Blog.


I am making this award to the awesome Laurie, for the following compltely acceptable reasons:

1. she was the first person to ever read my blog, in August 2004
2. she exemplifies most of the qualities celebrated by this awrd, and
3. she's stayed with me.
   

Noblesse oblige, indeed.

Lorna and Dave Manage Sunday

Today, Dave made bread. Good bread. He made breakfast. Good breakfast. He cleaned the kitchen counters, spread sand over the patio tiles (don't ask), arranged the patio furniture, re-arranged the patio furniture, trimmed the lobelia, managed the cat litter and kept my feet warm while we watched a PVR version of 24.

I did nothing except eat breakfast, eat bread, and manage the re-arrangement of the patio furniture. It's been a good day.

True confessions, picayune true confessions

Lorna hasn't been blogging much lately.

Lorna has been doing some of the following:

• wobbling around parks on her bicycle scaring other cycylists, errant geese and baby chipmunks
• having her worst day ever at work, doing everything to persuade people that crotchety, impulsive, brain-drained grannies are not fit for intellectual pursuits
• trolling Chapters.ca for books she can't afford, has no place for and has probably already read
• pounding the pulsating treadmill in her building trying to make up for having two kinds of cake on Sunday and 6 kinds of chocolates on Saturday
• watching the grass being sprayed onto the hillocks, nooks and crannies of the park being built outside the front of her building
• grouchily searching through baskets of look-alike connector thingies looking in vain for the one that connects her camera and her laptop
• listening to the glass things on the baker's rack beside her chinking, clanging and otherwise noisily reacting to the giant roller that is preparing the path that goes through the park
• uselessly trying to figure out why her 60 year-old copy of The Inferno of Dante has someone else's name printed in different-coloured pencils on the flyleaf, and equally uselessly trying not to name her sister Mary as the culprit.

Actually, I have been doing all of these things rather than sit down and compose a post that might allow me to ease my frustrations.

Seriously, except for the work thing, I should have no frustrations in my life. And I could always stop working if the shame becomes unbearable.

Star Trek! Star Trek!

Loved it! Loved it!

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - In Memory

In Memory......Out Memory

sigh! things I've had to handle before 11 a.m.

• this morning, I was down in our mini-gym, walking on the treadmill, and lamenting the fact that the TV component has not yet been connected, when I realized that the treadmill makes one sound: tapitty tapitty taboom, and the elliptical cross-trainer makes another: whoooosh slap slap. This totally distracted me from closing my eyes and planning my post for the day.
• I googled Kellogg's Chocolatey Delight and found that even though Loblaw's doesn't seem to carry it anymore, Kellogg's still makes my favourite cereal. Whew!
• I am primed for first day attendance at StarTrek tomorrow with some of my loved ones, when I find out that someone sneaky is running it Thursday night.
  
• Salon.com has an eerie picture of President Obama as Spock, and a fascinating backstory---I could follow the links for the rest of the day.
• my precise haircut only lasted in its pristine precise fashion for 2 weeks; I think this means that parts of my scalp are working harder than others.
• I finally faced up to the fact that I hate, nay HATE, acid-free pulp-free orange juice and will consider negotiating with Dave for 2 kinds of OJ in the fridge
• I can't figure out why Vista is always picking up pieces of text and moving them around with my cursor until I click on them and they go away---but finally, I don't care
• riding my bike in the basement parking garage is unsatisfying and probably unsafe, but I don't have a helmet yet and it's raining so I'll just continue to amuse the guys that should be fixing my patio tiles but are languishing in the basement instead
  

Yes, it's time for

Merriam-Webster’s
Word of the Day

May 6

embonpoint

\ahng-bohng-PWANG (the "ng" is never pronounced, but the vowels are nasalized)\

noun

Meaning

: plumpness of person : stoutness

Example Sentence The judge was a man of stately embonpoint who walked with a heavy step as he entered the courtroom.

Did you know?

"Embonpoint" is most often used to describe people of heavy, but not unattractive, girth. It derives from "en bon point," a phrase from Middle French that means "in good condition." The word was first used as a noun in English in the 17th century. It has subsequently appeared in works by Charlotte Brontë ("a form decidedly inclined to embonpoint" — Shirley), James Fenimore Cooper ("an embonpoint that was just sufficient to distinguish her from most of her companions" — Home as Found), and George Eliot ("as erect in her comely embonpoint as a statue of Ceres" — Adam Bede), among others.

This is just a warning:

Never, NEVER, use the word "embonpoint" in my presence.

It's 4 a.m.; do you know where your sisters are?

Over the last couple of days, my two sisters have had birthdays; one a significant birthday of the Oh,no! kind; the other probably just a blip on the radar.

It wasn't the birthdays that made me feel saddish---it was the thought of our being so far apart. I have a strong wish to believe that time is a river you can just jump in or out of, so somewhere, we're together.

My sister Kathy is telling me with great relish how she made her boyfriend cry, or she's reminding me yet again how lucky I am to have straight hair, while she's ironing her beautiful red curls, or she's just made up a Dickensish story about having been adopted and forced to live in the attic.

Mary, my younger sister, is crying at my wedding because I said "Till death do us part..." (I'm crying too, but only because I know I'm doing a silly thing with which I'll have to live the rest of my life, damn it!), or she's regaling my friends by repeating the name of the president of the Congo while simultaneously learning to walk, or she's selfishly stealing my glory by having her baby 10 days before I have Emily, or we're making dinner together in the kitchen while our kids are dropping rubber miniature mermaids down the toilet.

Somewhere, we're having a weekend in Winnipeg with Mum, trying to make her buy expensive clothes at the airport boutique after eating copious amounts of perogies washed down with white wine. Oh wait, the perogies and wine thing was only me.

It would have been nice to get together this year, just the sisters, to celebrate our May-June birthdays, but instead, in celebration, I'll just pull the Big Sister thing and try to make them feel guilty for having moved so far away.

Guess What I Got....

It folds up!

It's white with black trimming

It's a one-size-fits-everyone-because-it's-so-adaptable

It's something I've wanted since I was eight, but keep making bad decisions about

It's an acquisition everybody in my family wanted for me

It will stay in the parking garage until I'm comfortable with it

It will soon be fitted with a wicker basket

It will change how I get around town

It's my new bike:




The Dahon Speed D7! YaaaaaaY!

PHOTOHUNTER -Theme - Walking

Dead Cat Walking

A THOUGHTLESS POST

If, this morning, I had read my mail in order, instead of cherrypicking, I would have been aware, when I wrote my silly 'national day" post (next post down) that Bloggers Unite had called for action today against World Hunger.

Action against world hunger is a far more important thing to celebrate than first sip of hot coffee---in fact, I wish I hadn't trivialized, by implication, something I care about.

Back in the 60's, I wouldn't have been so thoughtless.

Of course, back in the 60's, if I remember rightly, I was totally compos mentis.

Help Me Celebrate

In a moment of inspired gratitude, I name this day:

National First Sip of Hot Coffee Day

Coming up:

National Kissing Day
National Sleeping-in Day
National Seville Orange Marmelade Day
National Cat Snoozing on Your Chest Day
National 30-minute Shower Day(to be immediately followed by National Green Guilt Day)

Feel free to internationalize any of the above.

It never rains, but it pours

When we moved into this apartment, we had already done the big cutting back that was necessary when we moved from our 4-storey house---it was painful, but we got used to it and eventually started feeling liberated.

Except about me and books. We have never had enough bookshelves and moving here didn't change that, so it didn't surprise me to have to cart off books I'd enjoyed, but could bear to get rid of. I knew that eventually I'd run into trouble though, because I actually got to "none of these books are going to go" time and our bookcases were stacked. I am not a person to never buy a book again, just because I have no room.

In the nine months we've been here, I've added book baskets and book stacks; Ive hidden books under the daybed and under my chair in the bedroom. I've even tried to turn books into tables for more books, but today, I was up against it. I had to take a deep breath and look at my books again, to find out what could leave without making me cry.

What I found when I examined my stash was that there were things missing from it: I only have 3 of the 8 or 9 Charles Todd books; two books by A.S Byatt---only 2, what's up with that? A couple Jasper Fforde books are missing, I've hardly got any Christopher Lamb and Greg Malone books. There are authors writing new work every day, there are books I only just heard of, and people always give me books for gifts. Someone made off with most of my science fiction and all the children's books are for kids under three while my grandchildren are 4, 6 and 13.

Oh, I'm going to be busy!