Christmas

It's two days before Christmas and I am in my happy place.  It took a mental boot in the butt to get me here, and it was definitely worth it.  I'd have been upset with myself if I'd allowed a Christmas season to go by without enjoying it. 

And there's so much to enjoy.  The kid is home for longer than just a few days, my sister arrived yesterday and we've already had one family gathering - I'm looking forward to at least one or two more. 

I am not known to be a social person; in fact, I can be downright un-social.  Give me alone time and I am at my happiest.  Give me my small family and no one else and I'm happy.  Or that's the case most of the time.  The two notable exceptions are Thanksgiving and Christmas.  They are family-and-friends time, time to gather with others around a table or in the living room and enjoy each other's company.

A few years ago, it was just the three of us - Jim, the kid and me - for Christmas.  It was nice, but it didn't feel like Christmas.  There should have been more people around the table; there should have been more people coming and going.  It was a little sad.

But this year I have family around; they have friends they are bringing around, too.  It feels good.  It feels like Christmas. 

So here I am in my happy place.  All the trappings of Christmas are present and accounted for - the tree, the lights, the music, the food.  But even better than that, the people are here.  My family is here. 

May you find yourself in your own happy place this Christmas. 

Getting into the spirit

It’s been awhile since I posted anything here and when I look back I realize I have been very quiet this second half of the year.  Truth is, I really haven’t felt very chatty.  I had some fun things to talk about – a vacation in BC and a visit with a favourite cousin/friend, a long weekend in Ottawa with my Buds, time with the kid at Thanksgiving – but even those haven’t roused me from what has become a year-long funk.  And the funk continues … it’s nearing Christmas and I have yet to get enthused about the season.

And it’s not just me.  It seems everyone I know is having a crummy year.  Prolonged and/or serious health issues, major financial problems, deaths, damaged relationships … it’s a bad year for everyone.   And it’s not like it’s a single event in the year – it’s issue after issue; scare after scare.

For me it started in January and I’m really hoping it ends in December.  I’m not going to bore anyone with my litany of complaints about what has felt like an unending string of health and personal issues this year.  I just hope there really is an end to it.   

This has been a topic for conversations I’ve had with various people, and we all are coming to the same conclusion – it’s just that time of life.  These middle aged bodies have become strangers to us and we are left to figure out what the new regime is.  We are experiencing what we always thought were old people’s problems.  We are dealing with almost-grown and grown children and changes in relationships, aging parents .. the list goes on.  I may be naïve to think my bad year will end at December 31: none of the conditions that seem to be related to it are going away any time soon – I’m still going to be middle aged next year.

So now what?

Well, I have decided it’s time to move on.  Enough of this.  I’m tired of having a crummy year and part of what makes it crummy is that I’m identifying it as crummy.  If this is the new normal, I’m going to live with it and deal with it.   I know I said earlier this year I needed to get back on track and I meant it, but then things went sideways and … well, here I am at the end of the year, wanting to get back on track.

I’ll start again, now.  Christmas is coming.  I love Christmas.  The tree is going up on the weekend.  I have lists to make, baking (ugh) to do, rooms to prepare, gifts to buy and wrap.  I’m going to look forward to Christmas, dammit! 

You gotta love all those mod cons

We have just experienced the far-flung effects of Hurricane Sandy – a night of high winds, rain and, for our neighbourhood, nine hours without power.  It was interesting trying to get ready for work in the dark this morning; the flashlight just doesn’t give adequate light for applying make-up.  I’ve heard from a neighbour that the power went back on awhile ago, so we won’t be facing a defrosted freezer or spoiled food in the fridge. 

These kinds of experiences make me wonder how I would fare if we had a prolonged power outage.  Today was easy – it was an adventure.  It didn’t take us long to grab our car keys and head out for breakfast.  The outage was very localized so there were lots of places to go.   

But a widespread, long-lasting loss of electricity – what would that look like?  I can’t even look back to the time, a few summers ago, when much of eastern Canada and the northeast States went black – some places for days.  We happened to be on vacation in Central Canada at that time and just heard the news reports.  Even if we had been at home we would have been only mildly inconvenienced – the power was back on in less than a day. 

 

So what would happen if we had no electricity?  I like to think I could adapt.   I used to camp and learned to do without electricity for a few days or weeks – sort of.   There was always electricity and hot water in the washrooms and showers.  Okay, so it wouldn’t be like camping.  It would be like … I guess the way my great- or great-great-grandparents lived.  

 

There would be a big difference, though.  Back before electricity was a given, life unfolded just as it always had – that was the norm.  To give up electricity now would be giving up something I’d always taken for granted.  It would be a backward step instead of the norm.  I don’t know how long it would take to realize that it was the new normal.

 

Jim and I had to really think about what we were doing this morning – we were automatically flipping on light switches that weren’t working, going to open the fridge door, closing a door and blocking out the street light that was inexplicably still burning on the other side of the street, turning up the thermostat that wasn’t even recording the temperature – everything was automatic.  How long would it take to unlearn all those automatic gestures and learn new ones that are so much lower tech?

 

Personally, I’m in no hurry to find out. 

Happy New Year (yes, really)

Summer is pretty much over.  Or it is for me – once Labour Day hits, I’m ready for warmer clothes, fall foliage and comfort food.  That’s what I want.  What I get is quite different – we still have days of hot, humid weather and the summer flowers are blooming brighter than ever.  It’s too soon to get that pot of soup bubbling on the stove.

I know the calendar says we are finishing up the third quarter of the year, but in my mind, Labour Day signals the beginning of the new year.  After two months of summer casual, it’s back to the rhythms and routines of the other ten months.  It’s back to school and back to work; back to business as usual. More importantly, it’s the time for new beginnings:  a new class, a new hobby, or even a whole new routine.

 

This is why the calendar new year isn’t very meaningful for me.  That’s just a date on a page with no break between the old year and the new.  My new year begins at Labour Day, when I feel refreshed after a summer of more casual living.  That’s when I feel there are new opportunities, wider horizons and anything seems possible.

 

Happy new year to all you like-minded folk.

Scenes from a morning's walk

I’ve been getting more serious about walking for exercise in the mornings and am gradually increasing my distance and speed. 

While I’ve been out and about walking the neighbourhood, I’ve observed a couple of things I think are interesting.  They aren’t necessarily significant but I thought I would share them. 

First of all, there are some people who are absolutely dedicated to having a green lawn, even though we’ve had no significant rainfall for I’m not sure how long - I believe it’s more than a month.  It’s bone dry where I live.  The last rain we had was a brief – and I mean brief – downpour a couple of weeks ago, and that was the first rain in weeks.  Yet there are some lovely green lawns out there.  

What is so important about a green lawn that people waste water by watering and watering and watering?  They have underground sprinklers that run every day or every second day.  Not only is this not good for the grass, but because the sprinklers are automatic, they are running even on the few occasions it is raining.  This has been a pet peeve for me for a long time.  Even in wetter years, those sprinklers will be running rain or shine, whether the grass needs watering or not. 

C’mon, folks!   Let’s not waste water on the grass – it’ll come back next year.  Or if you must water, treat your lawn to a good dowsing once a week and then let your grass get stronger and send its roots deeper so it can survive better when it’s dry. 

Secondly, I have yet to have a young person look at me or greet me in the morning.  I regularly pass kids – high school age, I’d guess – heading off to work, headphones on, feet dragging.  They do not look at me, they do not smile, they do not acknowledge that another living being is passing them on the sidewalk. 

I’ve occasionally had an adult act the same way, but for the most part, others will say “good morning” or “another hot day” or something appropriate to the morning.  

Is it that the kids are plugged into their own little world and don’t notice anything around them?  Have they been so indoctrinated to not speak to strangers that they never grow out of it?  Do they not care to speak to anyone over 30?  Are they so tired it’s all they can do to move one foot in front of the other?   It’s a mystery to me.

Will the kids be alright?

Has everyone read about the high school commencement address that said to students “You are not special.  You are not exceptional”?  I’d be surprised if there is anyone who hasn’t, but in case you missed it, here’s a link to a video of the address and a link to shortened version of it.

The headlines screamed “Students told they are not special” and an interesting thing happened.  Most people who commented on blogs or in response to the story agreed with what was said in the speech.   Young folks and older folks both – that surprised me.  There were of course a few unhappy people who thought the teacher was out of line but for the most part – a round of applause.

My first reaction was that it was a gutsy thing to say at a commencement, and a bit odd for the occasion.  Surely that couldn’t possibly have been the whole point of the address.  I read more about the speech and then watched the recording and found it to be more affirming that it was damning.  The graduates were encouraged to do things without regard to reward, achieve for the sake of achievement, find self-fulfillment in selflessness.  They were encouraged to go out and become better than special. It’s a powerful message. 

When I read through the comments in various places online, I expected there would be more finger-pointing by younger people – fingers pointed at parents (like me?) who over and over again told their children how wonderful and special they were; at schools that wouldn’t let kids fail; at sports leagues that made sure everyone got a ribbon or trophy just for showing up.  We all deserve fingers pointed in our direction – we are the parents who raised a generation of over-indulged, self-absorbed children.  We are the ones who marched down to the principal’s office when we thought a teacher was being too hard on our baby.  We are the ones who abused sports coaches and referees for imagined slights against our children. 

We, however, are not the ones paying for our actions – our children are.  It’s our children who are going out, unprepared, into a world with fewer and fewer jobs, with people who don’t care about past (non)achievements, with no interest in coddling anyone.  I fear we’ve done our children a great disservice.

It seems to me we started going wrong when the word “parent” became a verb.  Previous generations didn’t build their lives around their children the way we did nor tried to make life as easy as possible for them.  Previous generations – our parents, grandparents and their parents and grandparents - were more concerned about raising kids who were prepared go out in the world to take their places as responsible adults.  And that’s where we’ve failed – we haven’t allowed our children to grow up and take responsibility for anything, much less themselves.   

And now we have a commencement address that says, in the nicest way possible, that it’s time for young people to grab the reins and actively pursue their own lives.  It’s a message that should go out to every graduate.  And maybe to every parent as well.

A little break

Jim and I are on a short holiday and we are spending our last night in Savannah, Georgia.  It's a place I've wanted to see for a very long time.  I don't know exactly why I wanted to be here, but I'm sure it has something to do with the books Gone With the Wind (Margaret Mitchell) and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (John Berendt).

I am both vaguely disappointed in Savannah and enthralled by it.  I'm disappointed that, as wonderful as the squares and the mansions found in the historic district are, they lack the mood I was expecting.  I expected large squares surrounded by stately, distinctly Southern homes but found small squares with a few stately homes with bustling traffic.  Still lovely, but too much part of the modern world.

What has surprised me is that outside the historic district, I found the "historic" Savannah I was looking for.  We went to Bonaventure Cemetary, which figures in the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and found the most amazing place - old mixed with new, elaborate gravesites mixed with modern plain, spanish moss covered trees mixed with assorted palms.  Very distinctive, very moody, very "Savannah".

We've had some wonderful meals here - the best we had were in the Olde Pink House and Circa 1875.  What I enjoyed most?  Wet Willie's frozen strawberry daiquiris.  Really.  Frozen daiquiris available as quickly as a slushie, to be enjoyed as we wandered the streets, went up to the pool level in the hotel or as an afternoon treat after we'd been touring for most of the day.  My frozen strawberry daiquiri became my twice-a-day treat for the last three days - a late afternoon pick-me-up and an after dinner delight as we wended our way home.  Thank goodness for liquor laws that let you take booze off premises.

It's been a great holiday and it's not over yet - we start heading home tomorrow but still have a few days left to discover new things along the way.  There's nothing like a road trip to break up the monotony of everyday life.

Like an old friend ...

Man, I'm not doing much of a job keeping this blog up to date, am I?  Time slips away, as always.  And as I was telling a friend the other day, I am again writing so much at work that I barely look at the computer when I get home.

But I am here, now.

Quick update on my last post - the line of the song is indeed "It's been a long time since I've been grateful" but I've forgotten the name of the artist.  I will check again next time I hear it.  What was interesting is that almost as soon as I wrote my post, the song left my head.  Gone.  Within minutes.  Weird.  It's almost like I had to write about it.

And here I am, almost a month after I last wrote, and I've got music on the brain again. It's different this time, though - it's making me a little nostaligic.
 I'm listening to Gordon Lightfoot's "All Live" CD - it's his newest.  It is, I believe I read, the CD he intended should be released after his death.  He's not dead yet, and for whatever reason the CD is out.  It's wonderful.

I'm usually not that keen on old guys releasing new CDs of either their old material or new material - the voices aren't what they used to be and  rarely improve with age.  It's almost painful hearing some of them.

Gordon' Lightfoot's voice certainly isn't what it used to be, either - a little thin on the higher notes, although still nicely rich - nicely, recognizably Lightfoot - on the lower notes.
 What's so great about this CD is how it makes me feel.  Lightfoot's music is the music of my late teens and early 20s.  When I hear it, I'm right back there in my room at home, headphones on, eyes closed, with the music taking me wherever the songs led.

Gordon Lightfoot's storytelling is superb.  "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" - I can see the storm and the ship.  "The Canadian Railroad Trilogy" - who would have thought the story of the building of the railroad across this country - the railroad that tied the country together - would make an amazing and haunting song?  And "Christian Island" - as soon as I hear the opening notes, it is summer and the breeze is light and the sun is shining off the water.

No one does love songs - or even lost love songs - like Lightfoot.  Just the right tone, the right words, the right touch on the guitar, and .... lovely.

Now I have to go dig up whatever I can find of Lightfoot's music - I'm sure we have some old LP's (and we still have our turntable!) and we might even have a CD or two.  I just have to hear more. 

It's been a long time ....

Do you ever get part of a song stuck in your head, and have it live there for a day or so?


I've had one line of a song running through my brain for almost a week.  It's a song I hear at work when I'm half-listening to an online radio station.  I don't even know if I've got the right words - I just googled the line to see if I could find the lyrics, song or artist, and found nothing.  


Yet the line of the song - or what I think it is - runs through my head incessantly:  "It's been a long time since I've been grateful."


I have no idea in what context the line is used - it could be anything.  And it might not even be the right words.  Yet those are the words I hear - "It's been a long time since I've been grateful".  I feel like someone is trying to tell me something.


Maybe that's because there's some truth in it for me - it feels like it's been a long time since I've been truly grateful.  Yes, I'm grateful at Thanksgiving and on special occasions, just as anyone would be.  But truly, honestly, deeply grateful ... well, not so much lately.  Since the new year I've been focussing on the not-so-great things in my life - the loss of my pooch, what seems to be an endless number of health and physical ailments, how difficult a year it is at work, things I don't have.  I won't say I wallow in misery, but I can't say I've tried very hard to rise above.

And now I am haunted by the words "it's a long time since I've been grateful".  It's like a kick in the pants to start seeing all the good in my life - there is plenty of it and plenty to be grateful for.   It's definitely time to turn things around.  Maybe if I do, I'll get rid of that line running through my head and I get different background music for my thoughts.  

Happy anniversary to me

I just looked back through my blog and noticed that I wrote my very first post on March 30 of last year - almost exactly one year ago.  Wow - time passes very quickly.

In my first post I said one of the reasons I started this blog was to talk about what I'm learning as I grow up into the world as it is now.  Hmmm.  I'm not sure I really did much of that.  I railed against new technology which is now, to me, pretty ordinary.  I may be a late adopter, but I adopt.

I have learned things I haven't written about here.  I've learned about how differently business runs now than it did 20 years ago.  I've learned that people, on the whole, are always plugged in in some way.  No one is "off" anymore - smart phones have made people accessible 24/7, and it seems no one wants to be inaccessible.  (I am an exception, of course.  Why would I want to be available all the time?)  I'm learning to let go of "the way we used to do it" and now become impatient with people saying "but that's how we did it last year".  I've learned that I can't sit at my desk - or anywhere else, for that matter - for an hour or two and expect to get up without some complaint from stiff joints.  

I was also going to use this blog to write, and not have to use anyone else's voice but mine.  I've found that because I write so much at work, I often can't face writing even more when I get home and have the chance to write here.   I have no intention of changing jobs so that will continue to be a problem for me, but I really do want to post more often ... this is a great outlet for me.

What I didn't want this blog to be is a place to just complain, complain, complain.  Oh, I know I've gone on about a few things, but I never want to get to the point where that's all I do.  It's easy enough to get into that rut especially as I'm turning positively grouchy and more intolerant as I get on in years.

Now I'm going into my seond year with this blog.  Here's what I want to be writing about in the next year.  I want to write more about food.  I love food.  As I've been going through recipes, I've been getting more interested in trying new things again.  I also want to touch more on what's happening in the world.  There is so much to talk about - crazy things, important things.  And I'd really like this to be a place where readers would feel free to comment or add to the discussion.  It would be nice if this was more a conversation than a monologue.

So happy anniversary to me, and thanks for checking in.

Darkness returns for another few weeks

Thanks to Daylight Saving Time, my morning walk is once again done in darkness.  Until this past Sunday, it was almost light when I left the house for my 6 a.m. walk and pretty much completely light when I returned at 6:30.  It was lovely.  I heard the first birdsongs of the day;** I felt the first stirring of the breeze.  It was the best part of the day.

Then the clocks were changed, and now it’s dark and quiet and makes me feel as though spring is months away rather than just a few weeks.

I was reminded this morning, as I saw a streak of white disappear under a bush, that in my concern over seeing Ralph the coyote in the dark, I had completely forgotten to watch for skunks.  There seem to be fewer skunks than there used to be (do coyotes eat them, I wonder?) so they’ve been totally off my radar.  Until this morning.

Luckily the skunk saw me and decided retreat was the best option, and I was thankful he did.  My mind wasn’t at all on where I was walking and what was around me, so it could have been an unhappy meeting if we had surprised each other.

So – now I must watch out for skunks again.  Somehow, after the worry about Ralph and my old dog, the occasional skunk doesn’t seem like such a big deal.  I’ll just have to be more watchful and give the skunk wide berth so we can both happily go our separate ways.

Speaking of Ralph, I haven’t seen him for a long time, and now that our pooch has gone to doggy heaven, I don’t even worry about him – I have no fear for myself.  I haven’t heard of anyone meeting up with him lately, either.  I wonder if Ralph is still lurking, or if he’s gone to happier hunting grounds…or the final happy hunting ground.

** Note for anyone who knows me and knows I don’t much care for birds:   while I’m not a fan of their beady eyes, long skinny claws and impossibly light little bodies, I do appreciate their songs.  I will ignore the fact that it’s mostly the boy birds doing their territorial thing and just appreciate the variety and loveliness of the sounds they produce.   Oh yes, I like their feathers, too.

Hallelujah!

On Saturday, Jim and I watched YouTube videos for a good part of the evening.  It started because I was looking for a video of the Notting Hillbillies “Feel Like Going Home”.  It’s one of the saddest songs I have ever heard – not the sad story songs of country music, but an achingly sad song from someone totally beaten by life.  It’s wonderfully done on the album, and I wanted to see a performance of it. 

Then I wanted to see if there was a video of Patricia O’Callaghan’s rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”.  I remember seeing a video of it a long time ago, and it was what turned me on to the song (long before the song became “the” song) and Patricia O’Callaghan.  We found a few videos (one of which I really liked), and then we started watching other artists’ versions of the same song.  There are so many versions of the song, but few really good ones.  Here are the ones I liked best, in no particular order.

Patricia O’Callaghan - love her voice.  Her version is perhaps a bit pristine and over-controlled, but it’s the voice that does it for me.  I could listen to her over and over again.  (And did!)

Jeff Buckley – I was told that Jeff Buckley had the definitive version.  After watching his unadorned, emotionally raw performance, I can’t say I liked it best, but it certainly is a powerful performance.

K.D. Lang – love her voice.  The best video was of her performance at the induction of Leonard Cohen into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame and Leonard Cohen was sitting in the front row of the auditorium – talk about pressure!  K.D. Lang has such a fabulous voice - it seems so effortless. 

Jon Bon Jovi (unplugged) – a surprising performance.  Not great, but interesting and obviously emotional for him.  I first heard this version with the tv volume low and wasn’t too impressed – it really shines, though, with the volume higher. 

Those are my top four.  I’d be interested to know if there are others I didn’t get to that I should have.

By the way, here’s the link to the Notting Hillbillies’ “Feel Like Going Home” that started the evening – it’s worth watching even though the video recording isn’t very good.

Oops

Okay, so this isn't a real post ... I hit the wrong button when I logged in and ended up publishing a blank page.  It just looked weird, so I thought I would offer an explanation.

If this is any indication of how this day is going to go ....

The great cookbook cull

In an effort to get rid of the some of the clutter around our house, I have been going through the cookbooks and cooking magazines I have been accumulating over the years.  I have a ridiculous number of books - there's a bookcase in the kitchen, piles of magazines beside the bookcase and then a few shelves of books downstairs as well.  

I love cookbooks and recipes.  Everytime I bring a new one home, I go through each recipe and decide if it's something I would make.  I think about whether I have the ingredients or if I'd have to go out and buy ingredients I'd never use again.  I think about whether it's a week-day dish or something I'd save for a weekend meal - something that takes a bit more effort.  And I wonder why I bother buying new magazines because, lately, there's not much in them that's new or different or something I would make.

Time was, I would spend hours making dinner.  When we were first married and entertained a lot, Jim and I would spend an entire day getting ready for dinner - planning several courses, buying fresh ingredients, making bread to go with the meal, setting a more formal table ... the works.  We'd spend hours at the table over dinner, our guests were appreciative and we thought it was time well spent.  

Then came the kid.  Like most parents of picky eaters (and aren't most kids picky eaters?) I found it a struggle to put a meal on the table that would be eaten and enjoyed by everyone.  I refused to make a separate meal for said kid, but did provide different veggies that I knew he would eat, or a less spicy version of what I'd made.  I was spending an hour preparing a meal that would get wolfed down in 10 minutes.  That was not the most gratifying experience, so I changed the way I cooked.  I learned to throw things together in 10 or 20 minutes, and to spend 20 minutes putting something together earlier in the day so I could just throw it in the oven before dinner.  

This kind of cooking doesn't take a lot of thought or much in the way of recipes.  I would look at a recipe, decide what ingredients I needed or wanted to change and how to cook it faster or slower, depending on the dish.  The final product had a vague resemblance to the orginal recipe, but was usually something quite different. 

I started cooking that way for company, too.  If it took longer than an hour of my time to prepare an entire meal, including appetizers, I didn't make it.  I found out that our friends are just as happy to eat a stew or pasta or grilled meat, veggies and salad as they are something that takes much longer to prepare.  

Of course there are exceptions - every once in awhile it's nice to spend a good chunk of the afternoon on a weekend preparing something special, something new.  Sometimes there's a recipe that's calling out to be made, and I'll answer that call.  Special holiday meals are worthwhile, too - turkey and dressing, ham with scalloped potatoes; they are definitely worth spending the hours of preparation.  But those are all special cases.

Despite my pared-down cooking, I have continued buying and saving cookbooks and magazines through the years.  I'm always on the lookout for something that appeals. 

One of my favourite magazines is the LCBO's Food and Drink magazine - it's full of interesting recipes, and it's free.   I pick them up, read through them, identify a few recipes I'd like to make then put the magazine aside with the rest of the cookbooks.  Rarely do I go back and actually make one of the recipes.   Same with food magazines I buy at the grocery store, or the occasional cookbook I buy - I go through them, enjoy reading the recipes and imagine making or eating them, mark them then put them aside.

So now that I've been going through all these accumulated books, I'm finding recipes I marked.  Sometimes I wonder what appealed to me at the time, because they aren't all that appealing to me now.  And sometimes I find other recipes that are appealing but on thinking about it, I probably won't make because I already make something similar or I'm already substituting ingredients in my head and it's turning into something different altogether.   I'm also finding recipes I passed over before but are now calling out to me.  I have ripped out a few pages and kept a few of the magazines because there are multiple recipes I'd like to try, but for the most part they are going out the door and to the curb.

I'm not sure how I'm going to handle the cookbooks when I get to them.  There are some I haven't touched in years and should probably turf right off the bat.  There are others from which I use two or three recipes ... is that enough to keep the book and assume or hope I'll find other recipes I'll use?  I'll have to be ruthless if I want to pare down this collection into something I actually use.  And of course I need to leave room for the books and magazines I know I'll be bringing home in the future.

Is it contagious?

There's something going around that's affecting drivers in the Golden Horseshoe and it's reaching epidemic proportions.  Whatever it is seems to render the left hand useless, with the result that drivers are unable to use that  hand to switch on their turn signal when they are changing lanes. 

What's that you say?  The left hand is being used to hold the cell phone or shove food in the mouth or is sitting on the driver's lap, unused?  It's not a dread disease?  It's just .... stupidity?  Disregard for the safety of others?  Lack of courtesy?  Poor driving habits?

Oh.  I'll put away my bottle of vitamins - I was afraid of catching something.  Luckily stupidity isn't contagious.

A very cool video

Just in case I am not the last person in the world to see this video - here's a link to "Someone I Used to Know" by Walk Off the Earth.  It's also known as "10 hands one guitar".  This is a cover done by a young Burlington, Ontario band.  They really hit it big with this video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9NF2edxy-M

Enjoy.

In the middle of winter, a surprise

I saw the most wonderful thing on my drive home on Friday. 

Near the end of a fairly uneventful drive through off-and-on rain and snow showers, I was stopped at a light.  I glanced up and saw a rainbow.  A beautiful, full, complete-from-end-to-end rainbow.   I rhymed off the ROY Good Boy IV I was taught in school to check for all the colours that a perfect rainbow should have - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet - and they were all there.  

It lasted only a couple of minutes, but that was enough.   After having a crummy start to the new year, I got to see something that was perfect and complete and beautiful.   Maybe things are starting to look up.

Everything comes at a cost

This might as well be titled "be careful what you wish for". 

In my last post, I said something had to change to move me to whatever I felt was waiting around the corner.   That turned out to be true.  Something changed but I'm heartsick and right now have a hard time believing that what is around the corner will be worth the cost.  

Earlier this week we had to put down our 14 1/2-year old dog.  He was a well-loved companion, the source of endless stories, and a welcoming, waggy tail when we came home.  The decision to put him down was both the easiest decision and the hardest.  It was the right time for him and the right time for us, but, oh, how do you decide that a loved one's life should be over?  I still don't know how we did it, but we made the decision, made the arrangements and lived through three days of knowing he was into the very last days of his life. 

I'm not going to say anything further about his end - right now it's a little raw and the heartache isn't over.  But I do have a point.

No matter how much we loved that dog, the truth is that we built our lives around him for the last few years.  We had to forego holidays for a couple of years because we could no longer leave him at a kennel.  Just last year we found a great dog-sitter so we could get away, but that came at a huge cost both financially and emotionally.  We had to be home at certain times to feed him, let him out, walk him.  We felt confined and unable to live the way we wanted to.  And now that he's gone, we can.

Is that what was waiting around the corner - the freedom to live like the empty-nesters we are - going away overnight if we want to, or not coming home until we want, being able to plan our own time?  If that's the case, it's come at a heavy emotional cost.  Oh, I know this had to happen - our dog wasn't going to live forever - but I find it sad that we are getting what we desired at the cost of our dog's life.

So yes, there was something around the corner.  I now have what I looked forward to.  The price, however, is living without the companion I loved for over 14 years.