In the subway the other day, I was walking behind two women, each pushing a stroller. They had some parcels and a child walking beside them. We got to the stairs. One woman put the child's hand on the railing and told her to walk down slowly. Then the two women each adjusted their bags, picked up their strollers, and made their way down the stairs. Because there were two of them, they took up the whole stairwell.
Another woman came up beside me. We walked behind the women with strollers quietly, each of us braced to catch them if they stumble.
Then a man came rushing up from behind. He pushed his way past us and saw the holdup was the women with strollers. As he pushed his way pass them, the two women stopped, waited for him to pass before continuing. Then the man realized what he had just done, so he turned around, put his hand on one of the stroller and said, "Do you need any help?"
The woman said, "No, no thanks. I can manage."
The man refused to let go of the stroller and tried to drag it and the woman down the stairs, no doubt trying to atone for his sin. The woman was too polite to protest, so she adjusted her balance to accommodate the man's "help".
But I couldn't stand it. I said to the man, "You've never carried a stroller down the stairs, have you? You make her lose her balance by pulling on the stroller like that."
By this time, everyone made it to the bottom of the stairs. The man turned and went away. He looked back at us, smirking, either to cover up his embarrassment or he really thought he had helped despite what I said.
I walked away too and glared at him. I wanted to tell him to carry a few strollers down the subway staris before budding in to ease his own conscience. Women who bring their strollers into the subway have got it figured out. They have their parcels, kids and balance all fine tuned. You lay a hand on them during the descent and you could tip the delicate balance cause some real damage. I wanted to tell that to the man.
But as we all walked further away from each other, the urge to lecture dissipated, and I left us all to stew some more in the befuddlement of subway etiquette.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The Hotness
Driving home the other day, I saw two of The Boy's former friends. These boys' parents and I are also friends in the neighbourhood. I've been seeing these two boys for years. They are usually together, on their skateboards.
The last time I ran into them, I was walking. They are always friendly and polite with me, inquiring after The Boy, telling me what they and their families are up to. I always thought, nice kids, gonna be real good looking one day.
That day has arrived.
So there I saw them again, after almost a year, still skating on the sidewalk. But they were different. They weren't boys. They were young men. Really good looking ones. Cool and wholesome, one after the other, minding their own business, skateboarding to wherever they were going. They looked like young gods, whizzing by my car window, tall and lean, with spendid hair, mischievious grins, sculpted arms and straight backs.
When I was in high school, they would have been the kind of boys I'd stare at, hoping against hope that they would look my way too. I wondered who the lucky girls are who get to go out with them. I wondered if they still play soccer. I thought about the young gardener and Gabrielle on Desperate Housewives. Then I slapped myself. They are my friends' children.
The last time I ran into them, I was walking. They are always friendly and polite with me, inquiring after The Boy, telling me what they and their families are up to. I always thought, nice kids, gonna be real good looking one day.
That day has arrived.
So there I saw them again, after almost a year, still skating on the sidewalk. But they were different. They weren't boys. They were young men. Really good looking ones. Cool and wholesome, one after the other, minding their own business, skateboarding to wherever they were going. They looked like young gods, whizzing by my car window, tall and lean, with spendid hair, mischievious grins, sculpted arms and straight backs.
When I was in high school, they would have been the kind of boys I'd stare at, hoping against hope that they would look my way too. I wondered who the lucky girls are who get to go out with them. I wondered if they still play soccer. I thought about the young gardener and Gabrielle on Desperate Housewives. Then I slapped myself. They are my friends' children.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
How We've Changed
There was a time when giving a present of a household appliance to your wife was the most insensitive thing a husband can do. What am I thinking of... The Honeymooners, Jetsons, Flintstones? The picture in my mind is of a husband giving the wife a blender for her birthday and she hits him over the head with it.
I guess back then, in the sixties and seventies, to show your wife appreciation and recognition as a woman, a husband would give jewellery, lingerie, trips away - the exciting and glamorous things a wife supposed was missing out on at home.
When I looked at the gifts one can get online today, I saw mostly household appliances - coffee makers, waffle irons, toaster ovens, irons, even washers and dryers. So here's the question. Are marketers trying to sell us stuff by telling us it's okay to give household appliances to a spouse for a present? Or have our values and needs changed so much that we now really appreciate household appliances?
Because family time is so precious now, maybe we want homey stuff that improve the quality of time we spend at home as a family. Kind of like getting married or moving into a new home. You give and get items that say togetherness, at home safe and sound, doing homey things like getting nourished and cleaned.
Which makes me look at The Boy. When we had our Thanksgiving dinner a few weeks ago, we set separate tables for adults and children. I set a place for The Boy at both tables so he could hop between his young cousins and the adults. But I forgot to tell him I had set a place for him at the adult table. After dinner, he said he was miffed that he had been treated as a child.
This weekend, when we set the table for another dinner party, we had everyone sit at the same table. After dinner, the younger kids ran off to do their own thing. The Boy, who enjoys being with his young cousins and friends, stayed mostly at the table with us, removing dishes and taking part in the conversation. Sometimes, he went away to set up games for the younger kids, then he'd come back to the table.
The next day, I told him it was a pleasure having him with us after dinner. He didn't know what I was talking about; he was just doing what felt natural and hadn't noticed he was spending more time with the adults. I left it at that.
But I remember The Boy's older girl cousins, who are in their twenties now. They used to play with younger kids until they turned 13 or 14. Then they starting preferring adult company and gradually hardly spent any time with younger kids. No denying it. The Boy is changing.
I guess back then, in the sixties and seventies, to show your wife appreciation and recognition as a woman, a husband would give jewellery, lingerie, trips away - the exciting and glamorous things a wife supposed was missing out on at home.
When I looked at the gifts one can get online today, I saw mostly household appliances - coffee makers, waffle irons, toaster ovens, irons, even washers and dryers. So here's the question. Are marketers trying to sell us stuff by telling us it's okay to give household appliances to a spouse for a present? Or have our values and needs changed so much that we now really appreciate household appliances?
Because family time is so precious now, maybe we want homey stuff that improve the quality of time we spend at home as a family. Kind of like getting married or moving into a new home. You give and get items that say togetherness, at home safe and sound, doing homey things like getting nourished and cleaned.
Which makes me look at The Boy. When we had our Thanksgiving dinner a few weeks ago, we set separate tables for adults and children. I set a place for The Boy at both tables so he could hop between his young cousins and the adults. But I forgot to tell him I had set a place for him at the adult table. After dinner, he said he was miffed that he had been treated as a child.
This weekend, when we set the table for another dinner party, we had everyone sit at the same table. After dinner, the younger kids ran off to do their own thing. The Boy, who enjoys being with his young cousins and friends, stayed mostly at the table with us, removing dishes and taking part in the conversation. Sometimes, he went away to set up games for the younger kids, then he'd come back to the table.
The next day, I told him it was a pleasure having him with us after dinner. He didn't know what I was talking about; he was just doing what felt natural and hadn't noticed he was spending more time with the adults. I left it at that.
But I remember The Boy's older girl cousins, who are in their twenties now. They used to play with younger kids until they turned 13 or 14. Then they starting preferring adult company and gradually hardly spent any time with younger kids. No denying it. The Boy is changing.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
The Practice Of Being Awake
After months of planning and waiting, I finally made it to an all day meditation retreat. These all day sessions take place about every two months. The timing for this month's was right so I went to it.
I gotta to be honest. There is something disquieting about these silent retreats. I am not comfortable being with a group of 40 where we all sit in silence and not make eye contact. When we do walking meditations, we walk in a straight line, back and forth, very slowly, like we are zombies.
But do I feel better for doing the meditations? I think I do, though I can't be sure. I know that my mind races so I am not exactly meditating. I know I fall asleep a few times during each session. When a session is over, I don't feel any more at peace or at one with myself. I feel rested, like I had a good nap.
Most of the time, I am not in my body. It's a practised art, keeping your attention in your body so you can live in the moment. Your body is soft but alert, your eyes are closed but you are awake. My mind wanders and I can't get used to meditating on my own, but I have to be mindful not to laugh when I am with the group.
Most of the participants today talked about their pain, real physical pain that is debilitating. I guess I am uncomfortable with the self-absorption of the meditation, and that you intentionally put time aside to do nothing. I can't get rid of the habit of measuring time and our usefulness by our productivity.
Still, I try to practise on my own and attend the day long sessions because the centre I go to is funded by the hospital. The clinic and its associates at Harvard and M.I.T. are providing scientific research that prove the ancient techniques of Buddhist meditation and metta, the art of wishing others well, really do improve health, well-being, and healing. I feel there is something for me both in the meditation and philosophy of the Buddha, even if I don't quite get it. Maybe I'll get better with practice.
I gotta to be honest. There is something disquieting about these silent retreats. I am not comfortable being with a group of 40 where we all sit in silence and not make eye contact. When we do walking meditations, we walk in a straight line, back and forth, very slowly, like we are zombies.
But do I feel better for doing the meditations? I think I do, though I can't be sure. I know that my mind races so I am not exactly meditating. I know I fall asleep a few times during each session. When a session is over, I don't feel any more at peace or at one with myself. I feel rested, like I had a good nap.
Most of the time, I am not in my body. It's a practised art, keeping your attention in your body so you can live in the moment. Your body is soft but alert, your eyes are closed but you are awake. My mind wanders and I can't get used to meditating on my own, but I have to be mindful not to laugh when I am with the group.
Most of the participants today talked about their pain, real physical pain that is debilitating. I guess I am uncomfortable with the self-absorption of the meditation, and that you intentionally put time aside to do nothing. I can't get rid of the habit of measuring time and our usefulness by our productivity.
Still, I try to practise on my own and attend the day long sessions because the centre I go to is funded by the hospital. The clinic and its associates at Harvard and M.I.T. are providing scientific research that prove the ancient techniques of Buddhist meditation and metta, the art of wishing others well, really do improve health, well-being, and healing. I feel there is something for me both in the meditation and philosophy of the Buddha, even if I don't quite get it. Maybe I'll get better with practice.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
One Fine Evening
The only bad thing about being stoned is that when The Boy phoned from his party to check in tonight, The Man said to him, Don't do drugs.
Then The Man's friends came over. A sort of reunion of three childhood buddies. Soon, one takes out a bag of marijuana, the other takes out rolling paper, and before you know it, the house becomes a party.
I had gone upstairs to read after dinner. I could hear them talking and hooting. I could smell burning weed wafting upstairs and thought thank god The Boy isn't home. I wanted to get ready for bed so I went downstairs to say goodnight.
I met The Man in the kitchen. His eyes were red and he looked sleepy. I said, "Hey babe, you feeling sexy?"
He started giggling so I left him to it and went into the dining room to say goodnight to his friends. I don't know how we started talking about the grow-ops that's been in the news. One thing led to another and Tall Friend said, "Might as well light that up, you're talking about the stuff."
Hefty Friend handed me a half joint and said, "Here you go."
"Don't mind if I do," I said to myself and took the joint. I lit it up and sucked. I inhaled. It's been 20 years since I smoked a joint. It's still dry on the mouth and lips. It hits me within minutes.
As Tall Friend was talking to me from across the table, his voice grew louder. Hefty Friend too seemed to be shouting. The Man joined in with equal sonority. I marvelled at their effortless emission of thunderous voices with such relaxed faces and droopy eyes. I could barely keep my eyes open.
I went into the kitchen for some tea. The Man was there again. He was munching on crackers. He looked at me and started giggling again so I asked him for peanut butter. He started choking so I patted a kiss on his nose and left him to it.
I can barely walk straight, I feel woozy and I may be having trouble breathing. Maybe I want to vomit. I am so surprised it's past 1:30 a.m. Didn't we start dinner at 7:00? I am going to bed. If I don't blog for more than a week, check to see if our bodies are decomposing. Please take care of The Boy.
Then The Man's friends came over. A sort of reunion of three childhood buddies. Soon, one takes out a bag of marijuana, the other takes out rolling paper, and before you know it, the house becomes a party.
I had gone upstairs to read after dinner. I could hear them talking and hooting. I could smell burning weed wafting upstairs and thought thank god The Boy isn't home. I wanted to get ready for bed so I went downstairs to say goodnight.
I met The Man in the kitchen. His eyes were red and he looked sleepy. I said, "Hey babe, you feeling sexy?"
He started giggling so I left him to it and went into the dining room to say goodnight to his friends. I don't know how we started talking about the grow-ops that's been in the news. One thing led to another and Tall Friend said, "Might as well light that up, you're talking about the stuff."
Hefty Friend handed me a half joint and said, "Here you go."
"Don't mind if I do," I said to myself and took the joint. I lit it up and sucked. I inhaled. It's been 20 years since I smoked a joint. It's still dry on the mouth and lips. It hits me within minutes.
As Tall Friend was talking to me from across the table, his voice grew louder. Hefty Friend too seemed to be shouting. The Man joined in with equal sonority. I marvelled at their effortless emission of thunderous voices with such relaxed faces and droopy eyes. I could barely keep my eyes open.
I went into the kitchen for some tea. The Man was there again. He was munching on crackers. He looked at me and started giggling again so I asked him for peanut butter. He started choking so I patted a kiss on his nose and left him to it.
I can barely walk straight, I feel woozy and I may be having trouble breathing. Maybe I want to vomit. I am so surprised it's past 1:30 a.m. Didn't we start dinner at 7:00? I am going to bed. If I don't blog for more than a week, check to see if our bodies are decomposing. Please take care of The Boy.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Crowded House
Last week, I acquired a 20 gallon tank for my fish. I had 3 adult platys with 2 babies, and 2 adult black mollys with 3 babies. The black molly actually gave birth first, followed by the red platy a week later. I moved the fish to a bigger tank because I could see the 5 gallon tank they were in will be too crowded for the adults and the surviving babies.
A few days ago, the red platy gave birth again, beating the black molly this time. She had a whole bunch of infant fish. They have not developed colour yet so they flit about the tank like little white specks. I counted at least 12. Strangely, the adult fish are not eating them. I wonder how many would survive and what to do with them.
Last night, the black molly gave birth too. I see 6 this morning. They are big at birth. They look about 2 weeks old, almost as big as the baby red platys from the last birth. They must have been born late so they got big in the mother fish.
It is definitely a crowded tank now.
The stupid fish will be giving birth every month or so. Already, the crazy male platys are chasing the female around to impregnate her again. Why did I get livebearers? What am I going to do with all the fish? What do other people do with them? Drown them? Flush them down the toilet? Fry up the fry?
Who wants fish?
A few days ago, the red platy gave birth again, beating the black molly this time. She had a whole bunch of infant fish. They have not developed colour yet so they flit about the tank like little white specks. I counted at least 12. Strangely, the adult fish are not eating them. I wonder how many would survive and what to do with them.
Last night, the black molly gave birth too. I see 6 this morning. They are big at birth. They look about 2 weeks old, almost as big as the baby red platys from the last birth. They must have been born late so they got big in the mother fish.
It is definitely a crowded tank now.
The stupid fish will be giving birth every month or so. Already, the crazy male platys are chasing the female around to impregnate her again. Why did I get livebearers? What am I going to do with all the fish? What do other people do with them? Drown them? Flush them down the toilet? Fry up the fry?
Who wants fish?
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Checking In
The Boy pulled his first all night last night. He had an essay due today. He'd been working on it for a couple of weeks. But due to wanting skills in time management, he was behind in his work and he forgot he had a concert performance last night. I asked him whether he could get extra tiime for the essay because of the performance. Surprisingly, he said, "I can't really ask for more time. The essay was assigned a few weeks ago. I could have planned better for it. I'll get it done. School doesn't start till 10 tomorrow."
I stayed up as late as I could but I conked out before midnight. The Man stayed up a bit longer. At 3 am, when I got up to use the washroom, I heard The Boy still pounding away at the computer.
I woke up this morning to the sound of the Libera Boys Choir on the radio. This is the renamed St. Philips Boys Choir. So in the still of the house this morning, I downloaded some songs and drew up my Christmas list to include the choir. Then I put on Il Divo as I feed my fish and tidy up the house.
It's these quiet mornings I cherish, knowing The Boy and The Man are safely tucked in their beds. I feel like I am watching over their sleep to safeguard them. I sip my coffee, look around the house, and say to myself, There are things I still want to do, but I've done well so far.
When The Boy got up, I drove him to the subway. I made him admire my Christmas array of greens outside the house. In the car, he told me about the good grades he's received lately for tests and assignments - 95 for music theory, 90 in math. He hadn't expected to do so well as he doesn't like the teachers, but he's not complaining.
Driving back to the house, the sun is brilliant, there is little traffic on the road. My life is good. I guess angel voices in the morning makes you appreciate everything more.
I stayed up as late as I could but I conked out before midnight. The Man stayed up a bit longer. At 3 am, when I got up to use the washroom, I heard The Boy still pounding away at the computer.
I woke up this morning to the sound of the Libera Boys Choir on the radio. This is the renamed St. Philips Boys Choir. So in the still of the house this morning, I downloaded some songs and drew up my Christmas list to include the choir. Then I put on Il Divo as I feed my fish and tidy up the house.
It's these quiet mornings I cherish, knowing The Boy and The Man are safely tucked in their beds. I feel like I am watching over their sleep to safeguard them. I sip my coffee, look around the house, and say to myself, There are things I still want to do, but I've done well so far.
When The Boy got up, I drove him to the subway. I made him admire my Christmas array of greens outside the house. In the car, he told me about the good grades he's received lately for tests and assignments - 95 for music theory, 90 in math. He hadn't expected to do so well as he doesn't like the teachers, but he's not complaining.
Driving back to the house, the sun is brilliant, there is little traffic on the road. My life is good. I guess angel voices in the morning makes you appreciate everything more.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Deal Or No Deal?
It's a funny hood I live in. I try to shop local but shopkeepers don't seem to want my business.
I keep trying to buy fish paraphernalia. But the pet store on St. Clair that specializes in aquariums either doesn't have what I want in stock, or their stock just arrived and yes, they have what I want but they can't find it. After a few attempts to get my supplies from them, I gave up and went to the mall.
For the last two days, I've been trying to order flowers to send to a friend. The local florist was closed yesterday in the middle of the afternoon. I went again today. The shop was still closed, the mail had been hung on the door handle, a co-op student was outside waiting to get in to work. She told me the shop opens at noon and the owner should show up any minute. It was 1 pm. Later, I phoned them and was assured they were open. I went in again and browsed around for five minutes. I went through the flowers in their fridge, didn't like them, and left. There was no staff or anyone in the store the whole time. They left the shop open but unattended.
So I went home, picked up a vase, and headed to the local supermarket's garden centre. I consulted with the staff, who helpfully recommended flowers that suited the size and height of the vase I brought, worked with me to select the colour scheme, and told me how to arrange the flowers. I asked them to put the flowers in the vase. They said,
"If we do that, we have to charge you 25% more for the flowers."
"Because I want you to put the flowers in the vase instead of wrapping them? I am saving you the labour and wrapping material and you want to charge me more?"
"Yes. Because we have to charge for flower arranging."
"You don't have to arrange the flowers. You've already told me how to do that. I'll arrange them when I get home. I just want to put the flowers in the vase so I don't have so much garbage."
"We still have to charge 25% extra. We can't sell you flowers in your vase."
"Fine. Wrap up the flowers so I can throw the paper out when I get home."
I also started buying Christmas greenery for the house exterior today. I rejected the expensive prepared urns and wreaths at the garden centre and opted for cheaper green stuff at the local Chinese grocery store. I bought two swags of pine and a bunch of red branches. As I am paying for them, the shopowner said,
"You shouldn't be buying these, you know."
"Oh?"
"You should grow them. Then you can just cut them from your tree instead of spending money on them."
"I won't be able to grow a tree in time for Christmas."
"Put these in water and see if you can grow from these. And these red branches? If you put them in water, they grow white leaves. Grow them for next year."
Maybe my money's no good in this hood.
I keep trying to buy fish paraphernalia. But the pet store on St. Clair that specializes in aquariums either doesn't have what I want in stock, or their stock just arrived and yes, they have what I want but they can't find it. After a few attempts to get my supplies from them, I gave up and went to the mall.
For the last two days, I've been trying to order flowers to send to a friend. The local florist was closed yesterday in the middle of the afternoon. I went again today. The shop was still closed, the mail had been hung on the door handle, a co-op student was outside waiting to get in to work. She told me the shop opens at noon and the owner should show up any minute. It was 1 pm. Later, I phoned them and was assured they were open. I went in again and browsed around for five minutes. I went through the flowers in their fridge, didn't like them, and left. There was no staff or anyone in the store the whole time. They left the shop open but unattended.
So I went home, picked up a vase, and headed to the local supermarket's garden centre. I consulted with the staff, who helpfully recommended flowers that suited the size and height of the vase I brought, worked with me to select the colour scheme, and told me how to arrange the flowers. I asked them to put the flowers in the vase. They said,
"If we do that, we have to charge you 25% more for the flowers."
"Because I want you to put the flowers in the vase instead of wrapping them? I am saving you the labour and wrapping material and you want to charge me more?"
"Yes. Because we have to charge for flower arranging."
"You don't have to arrange the flowers. You've already told me how to do that. I'll arrange them when I get home. I just want to put the flowers in the vase so I don't have so much garbage."
"We still have to charge 25% extra. We can't sell you flowers in your vase."
"Fine. Wrap up the flowers so I can throw the paper out when I get home."
I also started buying Christmas greenery for the house exterior today. I rejected the expensive prepared urns and wreaths at the garden centre and opted for cheaper green stuff at the local Chinese grocery store. I bought two swags of pine and a bunch of red branches. As I am paying for them, the shopowner said,
"You shouldn't be buying these, you know."
"Oh?"
"You should grow them. Then you can just cut them from your tree instead of spending money on them."
"I won't be able to grow a tree in time for Christmas."
"Put these in water and see if you can grow from these. And these red branches? If you put them in water, they grow white leaves. Grow them for next year."
Maybe my money's no good in this hood.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Love And Faith
Over dinner with Outrageous this weekend, we got to talking about the crushes we have as married women. I often fall in love when I am happiest with myself and my marriage. My wandering eye was never because of anything wanting in The Man. But my crushes were passionate nonetheless, though existing solely as one-sided affairs on my part.
My first grand affair was when I went back to work after The Boy was born. The director in charge of the area I worked in had a playful air about him. I found myself looking forward to going to work just to see him. I found out where he lived. I envied his wife when he said they often play tennis together. At one point, I believed my marriage would be in trouble if he asked me out. Of course he never did. Not only was he married, he had two teenage children. And I never gave the air that I was available. In fact, part of the attraction for me was his dedication to his family. But these things didn't stop me from fantasizing about being swept up in his arms and us getting to know each other better. Eventually, I left my job for a better offer, my heart broke, but I was relieved too to have been released from an impossible entanglement that never happened. Not that I had ever exchanged more than a few sentences with him in the year we worked together.
The next time I realized I was smitten was when The Boy took skiing lessons at age six. His ski instructor was about 22. I'm not sure he was good looking, but he was good natured and had a good sense of humour. He liked The Boy and joked with him often. Back then, I was like a puppy, panting after whoever was nice to The Boy. I was falling for a lot of young men who had dealings with The Boy. For sure I didn't want to pursue anything with the ski instruction, ever so aware he saw me as an older woman with a family, which required him to behave politely and respectfully towards me. How much more matronly can a woman be made to feel than that? But nevertheless, I liked being around the ski instruction when he kidded The Boy.
When The Boy was in grade four, I fell in love with his teacher. All the boys in the class liked him, he was fun, into technology and environmental concerns. At our second teacher-parent meeting, he told me that even though The Boy had been tagged gifted by the school board, he didn't know what was so special about The Boy. The Boy wasn't getting good grades, his work was messy, he got in trouble all the time for distracting the class. This man was not appreciating my boy. My passion for him died right there and then, as suddenly as it had surfaced. After that, I didn't care much for his opinions about anything and kept an eye on him to make sure he was not disadvantaging The Boy in any way with his ignorance.
The last significant crush I had was a few years ago. He was a younger man and not my type. Oh he wore the rock star long hair. But he also wore polyester shirts and bell bottoms, often looking like a throw back to the 70's, like a geeky guy from behind the Iron Curtain trying to look cool. I wasn't interested. But he felt otherwise. I mean, I felt him staring at me all the time. Every time I looked over, he had that smitten smile. I felt him trying to walk pass me, looking over at me, looking for reasons to talk to people around me so I could hear him. When I talked to him, he was awkward and fumbling.
Slowly, I found myself reciprocating the attention. I started staring at him and looking forward to him coming my way. I blushed when he walked by and my heart fluttered every time I saw him. When he went on vacation, I missed him. What was with that? Still, we had few opportunities to talk to each other. Our projects never overlapped and we didn't sit near each other. It was the tension in the air that I felt.
There was no doubt I would not pursue anything with him. But I wondered why I was acting like I was in love. I had a good long think about this one. I decided this was a vanity kind of crush. I liked him admiring me. I was flattered. So I decided to be gracious and just be thankful someone's existence was making me feel so good about myself. My contract ended, I left the company, and that was it.
What was it that Jimmy Carter said? I have never been unfaithful, but in my heart, I have sinned many times.
I don't know if I ever told The Man about my crushes. I probably said in the most casual way, Yeah I love men, I fall in love with them all the time. And The Man being The Man probably said, Yeah I notice lots of attractive women too. But I do know that I don't pursue my crushes because when I weigh my priorities, The Man and The Boy are at the top. My attachment to The Man is real and he's pretty hot. And we have that marriage vow thing. I keep my promises.
My first grand affair was when I went back to work after The Boy was born. The director in charge of the area I worked in had a playful air about him. I found myself looking forward to going to work just to see him. I found out where he lived. I envied his wife when he said they often play tennis together. At one point, I believed my marriage would be in trouble if he asked me out. Of course he never did. Not only was he married, he had two teenage children. And I never gave the air that I was available. In fact, part of the attraction for me was his dedication to his family. But these things didn't stop me from fantasizing about being swept up in his arms and us getting to know each other better. Eventually, I left my job for a better offer, my heart broke, but I was relieved too to have been released from an impossible entanglement that never happened. Not that I had ever exchanged more than a few sentences with him in the year we worked together.
The next time I realized I was smitten was when The Boy took skiing lessons at age six. His ski instructor was about 22. I'm not sure he was good looking, but he was good natured and had a good sense of humour. He liked The Boy and joked with him often. Back then, I was like a puppy, panting after whoever was nice to The Boy. I was falling for a lot of young men who had dealings with The Boy. For sure I didn't want to pursue anything with the ski instruction, ever so aware he saw me as an older woman with a family, which required him to behave politely and respectfully towards me. How much more matronly can a woman be made to feel than that? But nevertheless, I liked being around the ski instruction when he kidded The Boy.
When The Boy was in grade four, I fell in love with his teacher. All the boys in the class liked him, he was fun, into technology and environmental concerns. At our second teacher-parent meeting, he told me that even though The Boy had been tagged gifted by the school board, he didn't know what was so special about The Boy. The Boy wasn't getting good grades, his work was messy, he got in trouble all the time for distracting the class. This man was not appreciating my boy. My passion for him died right there and then, as suddenly as it had surfaced. After that, I didn't care much for his opinions about anything and kept an eye on him to make sure he was not disadvantaging The Boy in any way with his ignorance.
The last significant crush I had was a few years ago. He was a younger man and not my type. Oh he wore the rock star long hair. But he also wore polyester shirts and bell bottoms, often looking like a throw back to the 70's, like a geeky guy from behind the Iron Curtain trying to look cool. I wasn't interested. But he felt otherwise. I mean, I felt him staring at me all the time. Every time I looked over, he had that smitten smile. I felt him trying to walk pass me, looking over at me, looking for reasons to talk to people around me so I could hear him. When I talked to him, he was awkward and fumbling.
Slowly, I found myself reciprocating the attention. I started staring at him and looking forward to him coming my way. I blushed when he walked by and my heart fluttered every time I saw him. When he went on vacation, I missed him. What was with that? Still, we had few opportunities to talk to each other. Our projects never overlapped and we didn't sit near each other. It was the tension in the air that I felt.
There was no doubt I would not pursue anything with him. But I wondered why I was acting like I was in love. I had a good long think about this one. I decided this was a vanity kind of crush. I liked him admiring me. I was flattered. So I decided to be gracious and just be thankful someone's existence was making me feel so good about myself. My contract ended, I left the company, and that was it.
What was it that Jimmy Carter said? I have never been unfaithful, but in my heart, I have sinned many times.
I don't know if I ever told The Man about my crushes. I probably said in the most casual way, Yeah I love men, I fall in love with them all the time. And The Man being The Man probably said, Yeah I notice lots of attractive women too. But I do know that I don't pursue my crushes because when I weigh my priorities, The Man and The Boy are at the top. My attachment to The Man is real and he's pretty hot. And we have that marriage vow thing. I keep my promises.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Bizarre
And then there is Rival.
Rival is another bizarre matter altogether. At the all-candidates debates, he told the audience, "Problems? What problems? Toronto has no problems. When I am elected, I will give everyone ice cream and we will dance in front of the church. That will fix everyone's problems."
When Incumbent accused MyCandidate of a smear campaign, Rival said, "She knew about this problem and didn't say anything till now? She should go to jail." Nevermind that everyone suspected misconduct but could provide no proof, nevermind that MyCandidate did not conduct a smear campaign. Let's shoot the messenger, but if she's not the messenger, let's shoot her because she knows the messenger. But by all means, let the criminal free.
When asked what could be done in the ward to re-engage youth, he said, "Send them to my garage and I will train them to be mechanics. The youth get in trouble because they are lazy. If they want a trade, I will train them." Right, he will take care of the youth problem single-handedly and turn them all into car mechanics.
And he said other things like, Vote for me and I will make you millionaires the way I made myself a millionaire. Vote for me and what you want is what you get. Vote for me and I will give you the money that is marked for councillors' salary increase. You do what you want with it.
Where's the vision for making a better community? He also owns many properties in the ward. He was quoted once as saying the reason he wanted to run for council was because he wanted to know what contracts are coming up.
But he thinks he's running for office in a small European village, not the large, most culturally diverse ward in Canada. The man lives on his own planet. Thank god he came in a distant third. Yet, this man was appointed interim councillor when the last councillor stepped down mid-term. He held office for nine months. Incumbent worked for him at that time. As the appointed interim councillor, he was not allowed to run, so he made a large donation to Incumbent's campaign.
This all in addition to Rival and Incumbent attacking MyCandidate for being a woman, for abandoning her children to run for office, for not working to pay her bills. They are so in cahoots.
The Man says if you wrote a TV series about the shenanigans of The Crooked and The Bizarre, studios would reject it for being too cliched. They are quite surreal.
Yes, it was important I backed MyCandidate.
Rival is another bizarre matter altogether. At the all-candidates debates, he told the audience, "Problems? What problems? Toronto has no problems. When I am elected, I will give everyone ice cream and we will dance in front of the church. That will fix everyone's problems."
When Incumbent accused MyCandidate of a smear campaign, Rival said, "She knew about this problem and didn't say anything till now? She should go to jail." Nevermind that everyone suspected misconduct but could provide no proof, nevermind that MyCandidate did not conduct a smear campaign. Let's shoot the messenger, but if she's not the messenger, let's shoot her because she knows the messenger. But by all means, let the criminal free.
When asked what could be done in the ward to re-engage youth, he said, "Send them to my garage and I will train them to be mechanics. The youth get in trouble because they are lazy. If they want a trade, I will train them." Right, he will take care of the youth problem single-handedly and turn them all into car mechanics.
And he said other things like, Vote for me and I will make you millionaires the way I made myself a millionaire. Vote for me and what you want is what you get. Vote for me and I will give you the money that is marked for councillors' salary increase. You do what you want with it.
Where's the vision for making a better community? He also owns many properties in the ward. He was quoted once as saying the reason he wanted to run for council was because he wanted to know what contracts are coming up.
But he thinks he's running for office in a small European village, not the large, most culturally diverse ward in Canada. The man lives on his own planet. Thank god he came in a distant third. Yet, this man was appointed interim councillor when the last councillor stepped down mid-term. He held office for nine months. Incumbent worked for him at that time. As the appointed interim councillor, he was not allowed to run, so he made a large donation to Incumbent's campaign.
This all in addition to Rival and Incumbent attacking MyCandidate for being a woman, for abandoning her children to run for office, for not working to pay her bills. They are so in cahoots.
The Man says if you wrote a TV series about the shenanigans of The Crooked and The Bizarre, studios would reject it for being too cliched. They are quite surreal.
Yes, it was important I backed MyCandidate.
Friday, November 17, 2006
The Crooked
Now that the election is over, I can detail the peccadillos of Incumbent and Rival. Not that I couldn't talk about them before. It's just that I wanted to focus on MyCandidate's positive qualities rather than the opponents' negative ones.
Incumbent, aside from having held office and been in City Hall for 27 years, has done nothing for us. He rides on our ward's immigrant loyalty to the Liberal Party. And that he arranged for personal, dedicated parking spots in front of the houses of some people by getting them handicap permits, whether they were handicapped or not.
During his time, he's collected 30 properties, made a sweet deal with a chartiy to fund his office, extorted payments for facilitating restaurant licences and home expansion permits, got his assistant pregnant, got thrown out of the house by his wife.
He rarely shows up for council meetings, and when he does, he votes against the community. He voted against the streetcar right of way, he voted to cut millions in funding to our ward, and he almost lost our park to developers either because he wasn't paying attention or because he was expecting a kick-back.
He tried to channel millions to create 17 parking spots for a little business strip instead of fighting to use the space for a community centre. He takes credit for things that council does by masking his election literature with "We did this...", the "we" being city council even though he voted against the project.
When asked if he would post his donations and expenses for the election, he said to the audience, Yes, I will do that. When asked in private when he would post the information, he said, Whenever I damn well feel like it. He has yet to post the information. That's because he doesn't want to show he accepts funding from developer and businesses.
He doesn't even live in the ward. He's proven useless to the community over and over again.
Incumbent, aside from having held office and been in City Hall for 27 years, has done nothing for us. He rides on our ward's immigrant loyalty to the Liberal Party. And that he arranged for personal, dedicated parking spots in front of the houses of some people by getting them handicap permits, whether they were handicapped or not.
During his time, he's collected 30 properties, made a sweet deal with a chartiy to fund his office, extorted payments for facilitating restaurant licences and home expansion permits, got his assistant pregnant, got thrown out of the house by his wife.
He rarely shows up for council meetings, and when he does, he votes against the community. He voted against the streetcar right of way, he voted to cut millions in funding to our ward, and he almost lost our park to developers either because he wasn't paying attention or because he was expecting a kick-back.
He tried to channel millions to create 17 parking spots for a little business strip instead of fighting to use the space for a community centre. He takes credit for things that council does by masking his election literature with "We did this...", the "we" being city council even though he voted against the project.
When asked if he would post his donations and expenses for the election, he said to the audience, Yes, I will do that. When asked in private when he would post the information, he said, Whenever I damn well feel like it. He has yet to post the information. That's because he doesn't want to show he accepts funding from developer and businesses.
He doesn't even live in the ward. He's proven useless to the community over and over again.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Still The One
Both The Man and Bro echoed similar thoughts: we backed losers.
Not at all. Not in the case of MyCandidate. Elections are not about whether we picked a winner or loser. It's about whether you've backed the right ideals, whether you've set the right motions in gear for higher social good, whatever that good means to you.
I still believe MyCandidate is the best woman for our ward. Her vision for our city and our community best reflect mine. We want to build a cooperative community where we look out for each other, have access to services that improve our quality of life, revitalize our streetscape so we can reclaim our streets, engage our youth and elderly in life activities where they feel purposeful.
These are our goals whether MyCandidate holds office or not. She could have facilitated our goals if she won a seat on city council. But we don't give up because she doesn't hold office.
Would I still have worked for MyCandidate if I knew she would lose? Yes, I would have. I might even have worked harder.
Not at all. Not in the case of MyCandidate. Elections are not about whether we picked a winner or loser. It's about whether you've backed the right ideals, whether you've set the right motions in gear for higher social good, whatever that good means to you.
I still believe MyCandidate is the best woman for our ward. Her vision for our city and our community best reflect mine. We want to build a cooperative community where we look out for each other, have access to services that improve our quality of life, revitalize our streetscape so we can reclaim our streets, engage our youth and elderly in life activities where they feel purposeful.
These are our goals whether MyCandidate holds office or not. She could have facilitated our goals if she won a seat on city council. But we don't give up because she doesn't hold office.
Would I still have worked for MyCandidate if I knew she would lose? Yes, I would have. I might even have worked harder.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The Loss
MyCandidate lost by 281 votes. Rival trailed a distant third. That means Incumbent is Incumbent again.
In the 2003 election, MyCandidate lost by over 800 votes. She's made progress this time. I still say it's not her or that we didn't work hard enough. It's more that the Liberal stronghold in our ward is hard to shake. But MyCandidate sure made a good crack. And that the demography in our ward consists of older European immigrants who want to vote for an older European man. There are still people in our ward who have trouble accepting that an attractive, intelligent mother should hold office.
Nor are votes related to community issues in our ward. Prove: Incumbent's supporters said they were against the TTC St. Clair right of way. Incumbent ran hand in hand with Jane Pitfield. They supported each other and took on each other's colours for their signs. Pitfield said she would stop the TTC right of way on St. Clair from advancing if she got elected. Yet, the poll results I saw showed voters voted overwhelmingly for David Miller, and marginally for Incumbent. These older voters gave their vote to the men they are familiar with.
And then there is the low voter turnout.
I wouldn't put it past Incumbent to pay people to vote for him.
So he's is back in.
He won despite the Star calling him ineffective, the Globe saying he's the most dispensible politician on council and people would know that if he attended council meetings more often.
Next time, MyCandidate will win. The fact she's an unknown and has had so much support means people are unhappy with Incumbent. The demographics in our ward will have changed as more progressive thinking, younger families move in. We also need to give people a reason to come out to vote.
But for now, things stay the same.
In the 2003 election, MyCandidate lost by over 800 votes. She's made progress this time. I still say it's not her or that we didn't work hard enough. It's more that the Liberal stronghold in our ward is hard to shake. But MyCandidate sure made a good crack. And that the demography in our ward consists of older European immigrants who want to vote for an older European man. There are still people in our ward who have trouble accepting that an attractive, intelligent mother should hold office.
Nor are votes related to community issues in our ward. Prove: Incumbent's supporters said they were against the TTC St. Clair right of way. Incumbent ran hand in hand with Jane Pitfield. They supported each other and took on each other's colours for their signs. Pitfield said she would stop the TTC right of way on St. Clair from advancing if she got elected. Yet, the poll results I saw showed voters voted overwhelmingly for David Miller, and marginally for Incumbent. These older voters gave their vote to the men they are familiar with.
And then there is the low voter turnout.
I wouldn't put it past Incumbent to pay people to vote for him.
So he's is back in.
He won despite the Star calling him ineffective, the Globe saying he's the most dispensible politician on council and people would know that if he attended council meetings more often.
Next time, MyCandidate will win. The fact she's an unknown and has had so much support means people are unhappy with Incumbent. The demographics in our ward will have changed as more progressive thinking, younger families move in. We also need to give people a reason to come out to vote.
But for now, things stay the same.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Election Eve
The municipal elections are tomorrow. I am scheduled to help set up at the celebration hall, then go to a poll and be a scrutineer. We are braced for victory, though we can't be too optimistic about the election outcome.
I found out today that both Incumbent and Rival use paid volunteers. There are organizations that contract out students and people learning to speak English to deliver campaign literature for low low wages. They are paid by the number of pamphlets delivered so they are actually working below the minimum wage. It's cheap labour for the politicians, there's pocket money for the workers, and no laws are broken.
MyCandidate has not had to resort to paying for labour. That tells us her volunteer base, and therefore her support, is larger than both Incumbent and Rival. So I am optimistic that she will win.
But it's hard to say. Who know what dirty tricks the others will be up to. As scrutineer, I will be looking for unusual goings on, like people voting more than once, like the same person accompanying many voters to the voting booth on the pretext the voter can't read.
Yet, we could be on the verge of a great dawning.
I found out today that both Incumbent and Rival use paid volunteers. There are organizations that contract out students and people learning to speak English to deliver campaign literature for low low wages. They are paid by the number of pamphlets delivered so they are actually working below the minimum wage. It's cheap labour for the politicians, there's pocket money for the workers, and no laws are broken.
MyCandidate has not had to resort to paying for labour. That tells us her volunteer base, and therefore her support, is larger than both Incumbent and Rival. So I am optimistic that she will win.
But it's hard to say. Who know what dirty tricks the others will be up to. As scrutineer, I will be looking for unusual goings on, like people voting more than once, like the same person accompanying many voters to the voting booth on the pretext the voter can't read.
Yet, we could be on the verge of a great dawning.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Vampant
Not having cable means I don't watch a lot of the home shows that are a precursor to the cursed reality shows so vampant today. Like that? Vampant: vapid and rampant, vamp-like in appeal, vampire-like in that the thing sucks your soul. I just made it up.
But when I am not home, I get to tune in to a show or two. So tonight, I watched something called Relocation, where two people helped a young man in London, England give up the bustle of the city to buy a seaside property and a crash pad in town. Viewers follow the hosts as they show housing finds to the man. Those seaside properties in Margate, England were all beautiful. So were the crash pads in London.
I'm thinking, how does this designer guy do it, buying two properties like that? It seemed so easy. He's 37 and had $330,000 pounds to work with. He gave the show hosts a list of requirements - original features, fire places, tall ceilings, bright, studio use. The hosts managed to find him two properties under budget.
We don't know what other assets this guy has. We don't know where his funding comes from. Does he really live in a different stratosphere than I do or did the program show a lifestyle many aspire to but few can actually afford. And I'm thinking, it's no different from fashion and beauty ads. The model is always skinny with flawless skin. We don't know how the model got that way. But looking at the ad, we all think we want to be that model, living the lifestyle the ads suggest while posing in that way.
Is that what mass marketing is about? Persuading us how we could be different than what we are? I guess it's just not entertaining and people don't want to spend their money if marketers show us it's discipline, hard work and sometimes luck and circumstance that get us what we want.
Despite that, would I like to have a seaside property and a crash pad in town, be young and skinny with flawless skin? In a New York second.
But when I am not home, I get to tune in to a show or two. So tonight, I watched something called Relocation, where two people helped a young man in London, England give up the bustle of the city to buy a seaside property and a crash pad in town. Viewers follow the hosts as they show housing finds to the man. Those seaside properties in Margate, England were all beautiful. So were the crash pads in London.
I'm thinking, how does this designer guy do it, buying two properties like that? It seemed so easy. He's 37 and had $330,000 pounds to work with. He gave the show hosts a list of requirements - original features, fire places, tall ceilings, bright, studio use. The hosts managed to find him two properties under budget.
We don't know what other assets this guy has. We don't know where his funding comes from. Does he really live in a different stratosphere than I do or did the program show a lifestyle many aspire to but few can actually afford. And I'm thinking, it's no different from fashion and beauty ads. The model is always skinny with flawless skin. We don't know how the model got that way. But looking at the ad, we all think we want to be that model, living the lifestyle the ads suggest while posing in that way.
Is that what mass marketing is about? Persuading us how we could be different than what we are? I guess it's just not entertaining and people don't want to spend their money if marketers show us it's discipline, hard work and sometimes luck and circumstance that get us what we want.
Despite that, would I like to have a seaside property and a crash pad in town, be young and skinny with flawless skin? In a New York second.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Secret Vices
Here I thought my secret vices were truly my secrets. But The Man just sent me an article that the Globe and Mail picked up from Associated Press about my favourite celebrity gossip blogger, Perez Hilton. How did he know?
I read about the break up and hook up of Brad, Jennifer and Angelina, and saw all the photographs of the baby Brangelina, relished in all details of crazy Tom and zombie Katie, and devoured the photographs of their gorgeous baby, Suri. And now I can't get enough of the divorce about Britney and FedEx, formerly K-Fed. It's just such dirty fun.
The other celebrity gossip sites I go to? The main ones are:
They are all trashy, but I think these may be the trashiest, but still coherent.
And I really like Spam meat. I buy a can once in a while. The Man and The Boy won't go near the stuff. Snobs. That means I get to eat the whole can, which I did this week. Sure, you feel sick after, but it's really good eating, like chips, only fattier.
I collect books on housekeeping. Sure it's a vice. That's like buying all kinds of exercise equipment without actually using them. I mean, owning the equipment doesn't get you fit. What more can you do with a house that my first book on housekeeping doesn't already cover? The rest of the books are just variations on the same theme. I know, buying housekeeping books doesn't make my house any cleaner either. Martha Stewart has a new one out - Martha Stewart's Homekeeping Handbook. I want it.
But at least I am not on drugs. Oh I am. I don't drink. Not often. And I don't smoke. Not regularly. I am overweight and unemployed. Shaddup and stop writing. Stop writing already and don't act like a crazy person.
I read about the break up and hook up of Brad, Jennifer and Angelina, and saw all the photographs of the baby Brangelina, relished in all details of crazy Tom and zombie Katie, and devoured the photographs of their gorgeous baby, Suri. And now I can't get enough of the divorce about Britney and FedEx, formerly K-Fed. It's just such dirty fun.
The other celebrity gossip sites I go to? The main ones are:
They are all trashy, but I think these may be the trashiest, but still coherent.
And I really like Spam meat. I buy a can once in a while. The Man and The Boy won't go near the stuff. Snobs. That means I get to eat the whole can, which I did this week. Sure, you feel sick after, but it's really good eating, like chips, only fattier.
I collect books on housekeeping. Sure it's a vice. That's like buying all kinds of exercise equipment without actually using them. I mean, owning the equipment doesn't get you fit. What more can you do with a house that my first book on housekeeping doesn't already cover? The rest of the books are just variations on the same theme. I know, buying housekeeping books doesn't make my house any cleaner either. Martha Stewart has a new one out - Martha Stewart's Homekeeping Handbook. I want it.
But at least I am not on drugs. Oh I am. I don't drink. Not often. And I don't smoke. Not regularly. I am overweight and unemployed. Shaddup and stop writing. Stop writing already and don't act like a crazy person.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Being On Drugs
I told some friends recently that I was on Prozac. Two of them have since inquired about how I am doing, because they now know I take an antidepressant. The reason they are concerned, they say, is I don't seem the type that needs to be medicated. I always seem so light-hearted and so put together.
I am not sure what to say. I never thought I was the type to be on antidepressant either. But then I never thought I'd be overweight, or not working, or have a spud I adore, or have a husband I continuously feel smitten with, or that my father would die, or accept my crappy childhood as another rite of passage.
Since I've been on Prozac, I've been reading a bit more about what antidepressants do. Apparently, a lot more than treat depression. For one thing, it treats neuropathic pain. I am not debilitated by my shoulder pain, neck pain and headaches any more. There were days I would writhe in pain and not be able to move or think. Not having to suffer this any more is worth being on Prozac for. I still get the pains, but not as often, not often at all. And when I do get them, I can almost pinpoint a cause.
I still feel sad, anxious, angry or lost about the things I used to feel sad, anxious, angry or lost about. But I am getting closer to these things, to accept them, experience them and process them instead of putting them at bay and emoting in the fog. I have not had bouts of inexplicable tears where I feel so sad I just lie there and cry. After which I would ask, What was that about? I haven't done that once since I started Prozac.
In fact, many days, I feel energetic and optimistic.
I met one of my brothers' batminton partners a couple of weeks ago. She phoned today and we're having lunch this week. I never thought I'd be so easy-going and sociable either.
I don't think Prozac makes me more outgoing. I think it lets me be more me. At the least, it helps me cope with whatever hurdle I need to get over in this segment of life.
I am not sure what to say. I never thought I was the type to be on antidepressant either. But then I never thought I'd be overweight, or not working, or have a spud I adore, or have a husband I continuously feel smitten with, or that my father would die, or accept my crappy childhood as another rite of passage.
Since I've been on Prozac, I've been reading a bit more about what antidepressants do. Apparently, a lot more than treat depression. For one thing, it treats neuropathic pain. I am not debilitated by my shoulder pain, neck pain and headaches any more. There were days I would writhe in pain and not be able to move or think. Not having to suffer this any more is worth being on Prozac for. I still get the pains, but not as often, not often at all. And when I do get them, I can almost pinpoint a cause.
I still feel sad, anxious, angry or lost about the things I used to feel sad, anxious, angry or lost about. But I am getting closer to these things, to accept them, experience them and process them instead of putting them at bay and emoting in the fog. I have not had bouts of inexplicable tears where I feel so sad I just lie there and cry. After which I would ask, What was that about? I haven't done that once since I started Prozac.
In fact, many days, I feel energetic and optimistic.
I met one of my brothers' batminton partners a couple of weeks ago. She phoned today and we're having lunch this week. I never thought I'd be so easy-going and sociable either.
I don't think Prozac makes me more outgoing. I think it lets me be more me. At the least, it helps me cope with whatever hurdle I need to get over in this segment of life.
Monday, November 06, 2006
The Waking Hour
I am sitting in the dark, reading, with a spot light on my book. The Man is upstairs, working, with the door closed. It's gone dark out. We have not turned on the lights.
Then The Boy walks in the front door from school. He says, Hey parents! and flicks on the living room lights. I get up and turn on the kitchen light. I see a sinkful of dishes and turn on the light above the counter so I can do the dishes. The Man comes downstairs. I turn on the hall light so he can see. He turns on the radio in the kitchen. The Boy is singing to himself, opening a parcel that arrived for him earlier. The phone rings. It's for The Boy. He turns on the TV. The Man and I talk about what to make for dinner.
I guess often, the house comes alive when The Boy gets home.
Then The Boy walks in the front door from school. He says, Hey parents! and flicks on the living room lights. I get up and turn on the kitchen light. I see a sinkful of dishes and turn on the light above the counter so I can do the dishes. The Man comes downstairs. I turn on the hall light so he can see. He turns on the radio in the kitchen. The Boy is singing to himself, opening a parcel that arrived for him earlier. The phone rings. It's for The Boy. He turns on the TV. The Man and I talk about what to make for dinner.
I guess often, the house comes alive when The Boy gets home.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
The Couple That Cooks Together
Some years ago, when my friend was having trouble in his marriage, he confided that one of the things he had fantasized doing with his wife was cook with her as they prepare for a dinner party. They'd be drinking wine as they cook, there'd be music in the background, friends would be gathered around the kitchen island. That never materialized. They had different friends, his wife didn't like to cook, their apartment wasn't big enough. The few times they tried to cook together, they got into huge fights as one tried to tell the other what to do.
I think one of the reasons The Man and I are still together is because we've worked out a way to work in the kitchen together. It's true that you can't have two chefs in the kitchen. So we've learned to recognize when to yield to the other and how to share space and utensils. Often, one of us is sous chef. That is, one cooks whiles the other chops or cleans up so the kitchen counter and sink are not so messy to work with.
When I delegate a dish to The Man to prepare, he gets to do whatever he wants with it and incorporates whatever twists he feels in the mood for. Sometimes we work on different dishes at the same time so we don't have to time our steps to each other.
Tonight, we prepared a great dinner for my mother's birthday. It was fun cooking together. I hadn't noticed how often The Man and I actually cook together. Which is what made me think about what my friend said about his marriage. I wonder if they've worked out a way to cook together and stay together. When it's easy going, I overlook the flaws of the meal, the marriage, and ourselves. I hope they're more relaxed so they can overlook their flaws too.
I think one of the reasons The Man and I are still together is because we've worked out a way to work in the kitchen together. It's true that you can't have two chefs in the kitchen. So we've learned to recognize when to yield to the other and how to share space and utensils. Often, one of us is sous chef. That is, one cooks whiles the other chops or cleans up so the kitchen counter and sink are not so messy to work with.
When I delegate a dish to The Man to prepare, he gets to do whatever he wants with it and incorporates whatever twists he feels in the mood for. Sometimes we work on different dishes at the same time so we don't have to time our steps to each other.
Tonight, we prepared a great dinner for my mother's birthday. It was fun cooking together. I hadn't noticed how often The Man and I actually cook together. Which is what made me think about what my friend said about his marriage. I wonder if they've worked out a way to cook together and stay together. When it's easy going, I overlook the flaws of the meal, the marriage, and ourselves. I hope they're more relaxed so they can overlook their flaws too.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Business Uncultured
I have been trying to return to my gym, after an absence of...months and months. The gym has been taking a membership fee from my bank each month. When I went to the gym this week, the gym is not there any more. The building is covered up and underconstruction. I don't remember receiving communication from the gym that they were closing down.
In the last few days, I've been phoning the gym's corporate head office and have not been able to reach anyone, not their customer service line, their media line, nor their advertising line. They all ask you to leave a message. I left one on their members line. No one has called me back.
Finally, I called another club belonging to the same chain of gyms. They said my gym had been closed for at least three months. But a lot of the members from my old gym now go to theirs. They accept these members without problem, without additional fees. I just show up and show my membership card.
Do I feel better now? I am not sure. Why didn't my gym tell me they were closing down and that I could transfer my membership to another gym in the chain? Why isn't head office phoning me back? Theirs is a bad business practice, as if there isn't already a history of gyms shutting down and walking away with their members' money.
But now I can use another gym that's inside a mall and has free parking. I am pissed off that I'm all out of excuses for not going to the gym. I don't want to give my money to an organization that is so negligent in its communication to members. But I am only paying $15 a month, and I hadn't been going, so what does it matter whether I not go to the gym downtown, or not go to the one in the mall, as long as I have available access to one? It's feels like I'm facing some kind of personal dilemma. Oh god, I'm so slovenly.
In the last few days, I've been phoning the gym's corporate head office and have not been able to reach anyone, not their customer service line, their media line, nor their advertising line. They all ask you to leave a message. I left one on their members line. No one has called me back.
Finally, I called another club belonging to the same chain of gyms. They said my gym had been closed for at least three months. But a lot of the members from my old gym now go to theirs. They accept these members without problem, without additional fees. I just show up and show my membership card.
Do I feel better now? I am not sure. Why didn't my gym tell me they were closing down and that I could transfer my membership to another gym in the chain? Why isn't head office phoning me back? Theirs is a bad business practice, as if there isn't already a history of gyms shutting down and walking away with their members' money.
But now I can use another gym that's inside a mall and has free parking. I am pissed off that I'm all out of excuses for not going to the gym. I don't want to give my money to an organization that is so negligent in its communication to members. But I am only paying $15 a month, and I hadn't been going, so what does it matter whether I not go to the gym downtown, or not go to the one in the mall, as long as I have available access to one? It's feels like I'm facing some kind of personal dilemma. Oh god, I'm so slovenly.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Final Debate
We went to the final all-candidates debate for city council in our ward tonight. MyCandidate was spectacular. She was clear, specific, and articulated her vision for our ward and our city well. Incumbent was sleazy and defensive, never addressing any questions directly. Rival still lives on his own planet.
Towards the end, Incumbent's husky supporters came in. They wagged their fingers at MyCandidate and said, We're gonna get you.
As soon as the debate ended, MyCandidate's people whisked her out quickly. I had no doubt the husky ones were there to start a riot with the intent of injuring MyCandidate.
The Man and I did something rare during the debate. We heckled Incumbent. Not intentionally. Only when he went on and on yet still managed not to answer the question. We shouted, Time, time, which was meant for the moderator to cut off Incumbent's rambling.
Now that debates are over, canvassing will be more intense. We have an all-women canvass on Sunday. This is in response to Rival and Incumbent attacking MyCandidate with, Are you neglecting your children by running for office? If you do all the work you claim to do as a volunteer, how do you pay your bills? That she has a husband who works, that she has a supportive mother and mother-in-law, and that she's building a better community for her children to grow up in aside, we are living in the 21st Century. Why are those questions still being raised in a metropolis like Toronto?
Truly, Rival and Incumbent live with impoverished mindsets from the last century.
Towards the end, Incumbent's husky supporters came in. They wagged their fingers at MyCandidate and said, We're gonna get you.
As soon as the debate ended, MyCandidate's people whisked her out quickly. I had no doubt the husky ones were there to start a riot with the intent of injuring MyCandidate.
The Man and I did something rare during the debate. We heckled Incumbent. Not intentionally. Only when he went on and on yet still managed not to answer the question. We shouted, Time, time, which was meant for the moderator to cut off Incumbent's rambling.
Now that debates are over, canvassing will be more intense. We have an all-women canvass on Sunday. This is in response to Rival and Incumbent attacking MyCandidate with, Are you neglecting your children by running for office? If you do all the work you claim to do as a volunteer, how do you pay your bills? That she has a husband who works, that she has a supportive mother and mother-in-law, and that she's building a better community for her children to grow up in aside, we are living in the 21st Century. Why are those questions still being raised in a metropolis like Toronto?
Truly, Rival and Incumbent live with impoverished mindsets from the last century.
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