Happy New Year!

This round, The Man took a bit longer to adjust to being home and I have not had much alone time with him. I know he left an intense work situation in Kabul and he's in the process of giving up his house there. From that to home, where he is completely cut off from the things that occupied his time, energy and thought.

But now that we've had Christmas (several times), he's gone to the gym, and we've been out with Outrageous and Red, he's settling in. He told a neighbour today it feels like he went to Kabul for the weekend and now he's back. Well, that's better. This is where his home is, not in Kabul.

This being New Year's Eve, I can't carry my crime into the New Year. So here's where I unload my secret. I arranged many appointments for The Man through his doctor. Regular check up stuff. His doctor had clued in that he's over 50 so suddenly sent him to all kinds of screening tests. The Man went to an 8 AM abdominal scan on December 24. But the clinic sent him home. They never received a requisition for the scan from his doctor. On December 30, he went back to his doctor. It was an appointment to review the results of his scan. But because he didn't have the scan done, the doctor didn't see him. The receptionist said, "I'm sure I faxed them the requisition but I guess I'll fax it again."

Meanwhile, cleaning out my things today, I came across the requisition his doctor's office sent for the scan. They had mailed it to me. I forgot about it. I thought the receptionist had phoned me to tell me about the appointment. So The Man went to two appointments for nothing because I forgot he had received the appointment in the mail.

Is this my way of telling The Man? Maybe. But he doesn't read my blog when he is home, so maybe not. But I'm not going into the new year alone with this burden.

May 2009 bring you peace, prosperity, and happiness. May we take better care of the earth so she can take better care of us. May we tap into our inner goodness so we can be good to each other. Peace out.

Music On Steroid

For our Christmas concert this year, we went to see the TSO on Boxing Day. No, not the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

The last few Christmases, radio stations have been playing one song in particular by this group - Carol of the Bells. It's a fast, metallic, exciting rendition of the carol. I downloaded other songs by the group and liked quite a few. I surmised this TSO specializes in Christmas songs but puts a rock, metallic spin to the tunes.

I expected to see incredible instrumental and percussion musicianship. I expected the musicians to do incredible things with traditional orchestral instruments to give a new sound to traditional music. They did a bit of that.

The Man had never heard of the group before. He expected cossacks and fur hats. They didn't do any of that.

The Boy had heard of the band and their music but he knew nothing about them. He didn't know what to expect. The band surprised all of us.

By surprise I mean while the occasional play of a metallic carol was fun, a whole bunch within a short time was hard on the ear. Plus, we didn't expect a light show. The Boy joked that he expected to see in the headlines in the morning, Seizures Abound With Trans-Siberians. Really, I am sure the light and metal triggered many epileptic fits in the audience.

Despite all the noise and lights, we were bored by half time. It wasn't so much a music concert as a light show of retro glam rock, lots of poses and hair, raising of the violin, and fire. The vocals were mostly country and western with metallic instrumentals. They used every kitschy tactic and cliche in rock performance. It was like someone told them long hair is cool, so all the band members had long hair. I like this review of the show from 2004:

The whole production seemed like a Christmas pageant organized in 1978 by two 14-year-old boys with money to burn. It's easy to imagine their thought process:

"Hey, why don't we get a metal band to do Christmas songs?"

"Cool, and let's add a storyline about an angel who saves the spirit of Christmas. That'd be wild."

"And get someone who sounds like Darth Vader to narrate it!"

"Yeah, and a sexy, red-headed singer -- in a short skirt!"

"Lasers?"

"Strobe lights!"

"Power ballads?"

"Wicked!"

We have never walked out of a concert before, nor do the three of us usually agree on the same thing. But at half time, when the lead singer introduced the band members and said we have lots more to play for you in the second half, I gasped. What? There is more? The Boy and I nudged each other. We wanted to leave. A few songs into the second half, I thought, This is not pleasure I am feeling. This is pain. My stomach churned. All three of us got up and left.

So here are some pictures of the band in concert.

Merry Christmas

A Merry Christmas to all!

Thanks for the note, Fryslan. Lots of snow and rain in Toronto. Hope you have beautiful weather for your festivities.

How many feasts can one consume before one implodes? I'll tell you after New Year, if I haven't imploded or exploded. Here we go to our first one.

The Magic Car

This Christmas season, I rearranged our furniture to accommodate the tree in the living room. I cleaned house in preparation for The Man's homecoming. Then within half an hour of entering the house, The Man looked around and said, "I was thinking of rearranging the furniture." I put a stop to that immediately. He is not allowed to come home and fiddle with my settings in the first 30 minutes.

But I let him drive our new car. We can't figure out how the lights work and how the car locks remotely. I think something is broken. I may be forced to read the car manual, unless he reads it and adjusts the car's settings...

Our new car is a magic car. Last night, we parked it on Bloor and went to dinner. We came back 8 minutes late, just as a traffic officer was standing behind the car and writing a ticket. The Man rushed up to the car. The officer said, "I usually give a 5 minute grace, but you are 8 minutes late so I am sorry. I've already written the ticket."

I said, "But geez, we rushed back fast as we could." I thought I heard The Man say, "Sylph, what time is it in Afghanistan?"

After a few more exchanges with the officer, he said, "Tell you what - forget about the ticket and Merry Christmas." He tore up the ticket. We thanked him. The Man and I looked at each other in disbelief. I am sure if it was the red Volvo, the officer would have given us the ticket, and on top of that, given us a second one for harassing him even though we weren't.

Creation And Destruction

Last night was Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. The hags were scheduled to sing. It's their job each year to serenade the sun and beckon it's warm return. But we hags got beaten by old man winter and his snowy and windy ways. The Festival of Lights got cancelled last minute. There were disappointed hag vibes throughout the city.

Sis and Kid2 were going to be new hags this year. They never debuted. But I loved how they came over, brought dinner, shovelled my drive, decorated my Christmas tree, and made my potted juniper into a Seuss tree.

Here's my Christmas tree this year. Every branch tells a story. There are three rooms in that tree housing a bird in each - the queen, the prince, and the baby. There is a nursery, a teddy bear row, an apple forest, a gift shop, and a candy-cane store. At the top, an angel cradles a baby unicorn who lives in a walnut shell.



Here's my potted juniper that Sis bent into a Seussian Christmas tree.


Kid1 even decorated my jasmine plant.


After they left, The Boy's friends arrived and had an impromptu party. One girl picked The Boy up on her shoulders and twirled around the room. One boy sat in a wooden chair and broke it. They put on music and sang along out loud. That's when I texted The Boy from my room asking him to keep the volume down. He texted back to say thanks for being subtle and moved the party down to the basement. I could barely ear them after that.

Photo Booth

The self is such a great subject of amusement. I just discovered the different features of Photo Booth on my computer. It takes videos as well as a quick succession of four photographs. I took these this morning and they made me laugh and laugh. I showed them to The Boy. He didn't think it was funny that his mother spent the morning making faces and taking pictures of herself.

How Do They Do It?

We are snowed in and out there, it's -23C with the windchill. That means there is wind and it's cold. To go outside, I bundled up.

Out there, I saw women stylishly put together. They have matching hats and coats. Their scarves complement their gloves and boots. They skip gingerly across the icy patches in their high heels boots looking cozy, snug and smug.

I am not one of those women. How do these smug women do it? Do they have better balance than me? Even the older ones? Did they excel in the balance beam at school? Do they still have strong inner core control? Do they read more fashion magazines than I do and buy new matching winter gear each year?

I am the frumpled bag lady you see skidding and sliding on men's robotic Sorel boots. I am the barrage of winter gear waddling across the snowy parking lot. I can't see out from under my oversized floppy baret with the front peak. Maybe it's a little box hat I need with my faux fur instead. Maybe other women spend more than $69 on their faux fur. Maybe they don't wear Sorels with their faux fur.

I speculate because I caught my reflection in a store window on St. Clair and gave myself a fright.

But you know, at least I can paint a heron on a plate and be darn pleased about it.

The Plunge

Okay, I took the plunge and bought a car this week.

I was principled about not owning a car. I rationalized that I didn't drive enough to need to own one, I didn't want to contribute to the degradation of our environment, I didn't want the hassle of taking care of a car.

At the same time, I also said things like, I don't drive much so what's the difference whether I own a car or not - I don't contribute to pollution by owning a car, I would contribute to more pollution if I drove when I don't have to. Owning a car would sure make life a lot more convenient.

At other times, I didn't like having to plan to use a car and always having to return it on time, curbing my spontaneity and sometimes not being able to complete my errands.

Most of all, I had stopped going to pilates because sometimes it took me three hours if I missed the bus connections on Christie. That's one hour to walk there, one hour for the exercise, and one hour to walk home. Every time The Man came home, I rented a car for him to use, and when he left, I returned the car. It's during those times that I felt the greatest discontent: I lose The Man and suffer the inconvenience of being without a car at the same time.

So when I ran into my mechanic last week and he asked if I was still looking for a car, I said, Yes. The swiftness of my affirmative answer came as a bit of a surprise. Immediately, I said to myself, I want an inexpensive car that is reliable, that doesn't attract attention and parking tickets, that has excellent mileage, that I don't have to keep paying through the nose to repair and maintain. Toyota Matrix, I answered myself. So that's what I asked my mechanic for.

The next day, he went to a dealer show and bought me one. The day after that, the car was mine. I went to see the car yesterday. It's is beautiful. I petted it and stroked it and told it to behave well for us, to keep us safe on the road. Then I asked the mechanic to get me snow tires. Monday, I pick up the car.

Je Suis Etudiante

Where to begin? I love my French class. I sit beside a very nice woman with three adult children. She looks to be in her fifties. Funny how we older women seem to gravitate to each other even as we are friendly to everyone and let things deflect off us rather than reflect who we are.

We have three teachers, each rotating to take a morning or afternoon session with us. Amazingly, they are well-organized and know exactly where one teacher leaves off and what homework was assigned. They are also good natured, appreciating the errors we make and laughing with us. If they are laughing at us, then they are very good actors.

For example, in our reflective verbs, we use verbs to describe how we get ready in the morning, such as I wake, I get up, I wash, I brush my teeth, I comb my hair, etc. In one of the exercises, we had to fill in the blank. The phrase went like this:

You are big now, you can ______ and ______ by yourself.

Now, women immediately understand this is a mother talking to her child and fill in words like dress, wash, brush your teeth, get ready for bed, etc. But the young men in the class either misunderstood how the reflective is used or have no idea what it takes to parent a child. They fill in words like shave, order a beer, drive.

Another time, my neighbour and I came across the word demenager - to move to a new home. She confused it with manger dejeuner - to eat lunch. The teacher said, which will you choose, to move or to eat? We both said, To eat, always eat. It was funny. You had to be there.

There are ten of us in class. Some have taken the week off work to do the course. Some are not working so they are taking the course while looking for work. I avoid the question of what I do by saying I am a writer who works from home. Funny how no one asks what I write.

There is a Somalian man in class who speaks five languages, none of them well I think, including English. Maybe it's just difficult to understand him because I pick up a Portuguese accent in his French. The first time each of the teacher taught us, he or she immediately asked him what languages he speaks. I love this man. Every time his name is called, he shouts "Oui!" so loud you would wake up if you had been drifting off. One of the women decided he has the most beautiful, unusual grey eyes she's ever seen. So that made several of us gather around him to peer into his eyes, which made this black man blush and giggle with glee.

The administration office thinks I am a rebel rouser, but in a good way. Because they cancelled last week's class, I went to ask for a refund. The receptionist said, You are the fifth person to ask for a refund. I said, I don't have to have a refund, you can apply the money to my next course. She looked up the schedule and said I would need to attend class twice a week in January, one and a half hour each time. I said, No I prefer to do a one-week intensive. But the intensive course isn't offered again till Spring. So I said, What if I note my preference, and maybe if enough people show interest, they would offer it. She said, Okay, and gave me a piece of paper to write on.

So in class, I told everyone about the opportunity to do an intensive course for the next level in January. By now, seven of us have signed up. They only need five to hold the class. The administrator came in to talk to us today to say they will offer the course. Then she shook her finger at me as she left the room. The receptionist winked at me when I left the building today.

And I am actually learning. I had forgotten what all the verbs are that use etre in passe compose. I am surprised you have to make the ending of the past participle agree with the subject. To tell time? I was never good at telling time in French, because I could never figure out the numbers to say the minutes. I think I'm getting good at the numbers. At least enough to tell time with.

It's been great fun.

Culture Clash

At my last book club meeting, we decided we need to have a holiday dinner together with family members. After bouncing around a few ideas, we picked a date, decided we would have a potluck, and that it would be at my house.

Last week, I sent a reminder to my book club to confirm the arrangements. In my note, I said I would provide a main dish, a salad, and a dessert, and others could bring whatever they like rather than organizing who brings what.

Yesterday, I met some of the other women at another dinner party. They said - It's very nice of you to do all the cooking for us next week.

I said - It's a potluck. You'll be bringing food too.

- No we won't. You said you were providing a main, a salad, and a dessert.

- Yes, but that won't be enough for 12 people.

- What else can we bring then if you are doing the main, the salad, and the dessert?

- But how is it a potluck if I am doing the full dinner?

- We were confused about that - why you still called it a potluck when you were doing everything.

- Surely we'll need more than one main, one salad and one dessert for 12 people.

- You better send us another e-mail to clarify that. We thought we were getting off scot-free.

Is it just me and my excess food culture, or is it the waspiness of my book club friends and their small-eating ways? Had I, in my personal gluttony, assumed that 12 people would need more than one main, one salad, and one dessert? Is that why another friend wrote back to say she'll bring wine and I quietly thought, What about food?

So I sent out another e-mail to correct any misinterpretation of my previous e-mail.

At this point, one week of my French class has been cancelled and I have not lost 10 lbs. Next week, The Man comes home. I am still fat and I still can't speak French. I will have to return that French maid's outfit and forget about playing games with The Man.

Pieces Of Me

Life isn't perfect and neither am I. But my gosh, sometimes I like the imperfect me, because look at the imperfect but beautiful things I churned out.


Round serving plates.


Moose plate.


Large floral bowl.

End Of The Line

When I was younger and worked downtown, there were days when I came home from work exhausted. If I went shopping after work, I came home and collapsed right into bed without undressing.

It's been a while since I've spent time downtown. I went yesterday and roamed around the shops for an afternoon. By 4 PM, I was exhausted and desperate to get home. It wasn't crowded, but people were shopping for sure. Every shop had short line-ups of two or three people at the service counter.

I felt foul in the midst of all that consumerism. It must've made me invisible or hostile-looking. Several times, and this is in the same day, the service person simply skipped over me and offered to help the next person in line. Or shoppers walk past me and laid down their request for service even though I was in line ahead of them. Each time, I raised my hand and said, "Excuse me, I was here first." Each time, the offending party turned to look at me and were surprised to actually see me there.

I bought three things and decided to return two of them within half an hour of purchase. How bitchy was that? I don't think I can be downtown everyday or even for a few hours any more.

So I came home and did all my Christmas shopping online.

Here I Come

The temperature was above 0C yesterday. Warm compared to recent days. But it snowed and rained. I trekked through the snow, slush and wet for over an hour hoping I'd be hit with an inspiration as to how to make better use of my time in the next few months. None came while I was out. I had hoped for a Trudeau kind of walk in the snow.

Reading at home, I came across a reference to the Toronto School of Art. When it's the right time for a good idea, it's the right time. I have been looking at the Toronto School of Art for three years now. Last night, I just said, It's time.

Today, I phoned them up and registered for a course. I was so keen I forgot to ask about the age of the student population. I hate being an old lady in a room full of younglings. I am also scared. Of what I don't know. Maybe I dread being a stereotypical art student. They have a tendency to be dipsy. Oh but I am anything but stereotypical. So right now I am not going to give in to fear and anxiety. I start painting in January!

Freeze Frame

Only early December and it's -12C outside. -20C with the windchill. Over the next 14 days, the forecast calls for snow every time the temperature reaches above -5C.

I came home from Orlando to find the glass and screen on our back screen door broken but duct-taped together. My neighbour came in to feed my fish and take in the mail each day. While away, we missed a furious wind storm. The next day, Neighbour discovered our patio umbrella had fallen and crashed into the screen door, ripping the screen and breaking the glass. That's what I get for not putting away the umbrella. Neighbour duct-taped the window and got rid of the broken glass for us.

The first week of my full time French class has been cancelled due to insufficient enrollment. There is hope for the second week though.

I've had some really good meals since being home.

Sis, Kid2, and Waif agreed to be singing hags with me this year at the Winter Solstice. We are such pagans.

The pottery studio believes my artistic niche is painting on plates. The studio doesn't know that I draw and that I have a good sense of colour and composition.

At Christmas, The Man will be home for three weeks. Woohoo!

Dreams

Orlando bills itself as the city where dreams come true. I don't know if mom ever dreamed of swooshing down a water slide. But we made her go down a water raft with us. She kept her eyes shut. I told her it's less scary (it wasn't scary at all) if she had her eyes open. She slid down laughing all the way. How many 72-old-year women have swooshed down a water slide with her adult daughters? I hope she boasts to her friends about it.

I think she sometimes does dream of living with her children again. Not that she really wants to. She's complained that we have different habits, schedules, and preferences so we would not live harmoniously together. But our week in Orlando, we were in sync. We were there for the common purpose of having a good time, the accommodations were beautiful, mom had some of her grandchildren with her, she accepted that Sis and I would plan the excursions, and we knew Sis and I would take care of everything. Mom said she slept well all week. I think that's what vacations are about - you live out a dream for a while.

The Boy said he had a fantastic time. In retrospect, I am glad I took him with us. He shopped and I indulged him. He said he loves Kid1 and Kid2 but didn't want to share a room with them because they went to bed early and would wake him too early. I wouldn't have been able to keep them out of their own room to allow him more sleep so I let The Boy share my room and we slept in the same bed. He rolled up the bed spread and put it down the middle of the bed to separate us, and in case I had the cooties. It was like each of us having our own bed. He enjoyed all the outings because he was with Kid1 and Kid2. At times, he got frustrated with how slow it was to move everyone. At the end of the trip, he said he has a whole new appreciation for why Dad gets grouchy when there are too many people around.

Kid1 and Kid2...they were in heaven having The Boy all to themselves for a whole week. Kid1 improved his game at group Solitaire. He even won a round. Kid2 said her favourite part of the trip was seeing all the nature. Nature? In Orlando? Because there were birds, cranes, and raccoons roaming about at the resort, water animals at Sea World, land animals at Busch Garden, and really really bright lights all over. She thought some of the Christmas light arrangements looked beautiful, like they were part of nature. Kid2 is even more astute and fun to be with than I thought.

I don't know what Sis and her Fiance liked best about the trip. I think Sis liked having a break from work, that she didn't have to cook every night, and that her kids were having a great time.

I just liked being there in the warmish weather, spending time with everyone, seeing The Boy have a good time, and finally taking mom on a real vacation.

Okay, day-by-day highlights:

Day 1 - I ate cheese pizza and got sick. I guess being on vacation is not a good time to test if I am still lactose intolerant.

Day 2 - Sis discovered Kid2 had lice! They spent most of the day delousing. The rest of us sat around. The day was saved for The Boy when we went shopping in malls.

Day 3 - Kid1 had a melt down. He lost his DS Gameboy case containing all his games.

Day 4 - Sis' Fiance arrived.

Day 5 - Life got blurry from this point on...Sis and Fiance attended a timeshare presentation to save us 40% off our theme park tickets. I threw out the slab of vacuum sealed fresh salmon I smuggled across the border because we hadn't cooked it and mom already had a bout of runny tummy and Kid2 had lice. I didn't want to risk further health issues. We made Sis check The Boy and me for lice everyday even though we didn't have any.

Day 7 - Another shopping excursion for The Boy and me.

Day 8 - Homeward bound.

That was as fine a time away as I could hope for.

The Parks

Orlando was weird and wondrous. Weird in that high populous and excess affluence drove the creation of amusement theme parks that spawned the technology that created mind blowing multimedia sensory experiences to look at reality from an impossible perspective.

Weird in that these experiences are out of reach for many many people but were created for our amusement and someone is making a lot of money from it. I kept thinking of the solid gold toilet seat that belonged to the shah of Iran.

Weird in that we didn't mind it. We liked being in a safe, controlled, re-created world of simulated experiences even as I suspected we had put our brains on hold to take in a week of drone-like mindless existence. It was like we were drugged. I wanted to say, Yes master, yes master, but to who? That innocuous looking subterfuge with the ears?

Yet through it all, I couldn't help but admire the genius of the technology, the vision that went into building the parks, and the knowledge of what people need to unwind. I also felt the fish and animals were well taken care of, that their handlers and trainers cared about and were proud of their involvement with the animals.

So what did we get in exchange? A wonderful time with our family. We enjoyed being with each other. We appreciated the experiences simulated and real. There were no long line ups at any of the attractions. We had a good time.

First, we got on the plane and looked out the window when we flew above the clouds.


Here are The Boy, Kid1, and Kid2 perched in the window of the airport tram as it took us to the terminal to claim our luggage.


These crane-like birds and geckos milled about our resort at all times of the day.



Our motley crew under Mickey's hat at Disney's Hollywood Studios.


This is an all-stars boulevard, probably called the All-Star Boulevard. That tall building is the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. The Boy and I rode it and loved it.


A block party with performers dancing in the street.


Did you ever imagine mom at Disney wearing Mickey ears?


We visited Sea World. After my many attempts at capturing dolphins in the ocean on camera, I found them waiting for me at the dolphin nursery at Sea World.


These animals are trained to perform with humans. This is the Shamu Show with Shamu the whale.




There was a show called Blue Horizon. People, birds and fish performed together.



Real birds flew on command.


Of course we visited the penguins.


Under water view of duck feet for Kid1.


Photo op with candy cane. We are all in this photograph. So who took the picture? The other candy cane. The pair of them greeted visitors as they entered Busch Garden. The Budweiser beer people forked out for this park. It was very strange to see Christmas decorations and hear carols in warm weather, knowing the place will not snow on Christmas Day.


We saw lots of animals and pink flamingoes too.


Crocodiles lurking in the dark.


Here they are at Universal Studio.


Epcot at night.


Pooped party at the airport heading home.