So Then...

I like these paintings. Not because there is great artistic merit or vision. It's because I did them. I'm still working on techniques. But you know, something about these two exercises says, Look, that's the Sylph's hand at work.

Wubba Wubba Wubba

As much as I am enjoying my pottery and painting classes, guilt sets in. It's as if I hear a voice saying, "Who do you think you are? What have you done to deserve this pleasure?"

Another voice rises to answer. It says, "What are you doing here? Where did you come from? Why are you saying these things to her?" I don't know where this voice comes from either. I secretly hope it's defending me, but I suspect it's just being contrary.

I told Dr. Noggins about this. He didn't say it, but he sounded puzzled by my feeling guilty. In my mind, I asked, Where is my voice of outrage? Outrage at my challenging whether I am entitled to have pleasure through art, outrage at my merely questioning where the challenge comes from and not quashing it in my defense. I am outraged by my not being outraged.

Then I stopped. I can see how multiple personality disorder sets in. I didn't want to call up voices in my head any more.

So I said to Dr. Noggins, I can never criticize anyone for listening to bubblegum music any more. This internal process is too much for me. All I can think is I am glad I am going home to listen to my lighthearted fun diddies from the 60's. Maybe it's all those people who appear so air-headed and listen to pop tunes who are trying hardest to escape their complex, mind-boggling issues.

Does escapism feed our entertainment and art industries? I think that's one of the feeds.

Am I Really Me?

It's ID theft season.

A little while back, I received a phone call from my bank - credit card fraud services. They received a report about my card so they wanted to verify recent transactions. But I hadn't used this particular card for over two months. But just to be safe, they verified all my information and said they wold cancel my card and issue a new one.

After I hung up, I thought, Wait, what if that was the fraud? The woman asked for a lot of private information and I just gave it to her. So I phoned the customer service number on the back of my card and verified that my card had been flagged. Now that I have received my new card, I feel better.

Then I received an email from myself! offering to sell me Viagra! C'mon, I am not in that business and I don't need the stuff. How did this email happen, that I am the sender and recipient? Are others receiving emails from me with Viagra offers?

This week, I received an email in my Bell account from Windows Live saying they want to confirm my request for password change to prevent fraud. But I don't have a Windows Live account and I made no such request. When I clicked on the link the email provided to cancel the request, the display looked like a Windows Live window. But when I clicked on the cancel button, I received a "link is no longer valid" message.

I sent Windows Live an email asking them about the email they sent, and to advise that if someone did try to create an account using my Bell email, to not let them. I have yet to hear back.

Up Over?

I can't believe The Man is having a good time in Australia without me. Sure sure, I turned down the opportunity to go with him and he phones to say he wishes I was down under with him. But it still feels like he's galavanting around the globe instead of being home with me.

This winter, Toronto is three degrees colder than last winter, according to Environment Canada. The temperature has been in the -12C to -16 range. With the windchill, it's been -20C to -28C. When it gets warmer, like today - it's only -4C out, it snows. We are expecting 15 cm to 20 cm of snow by evening. My luncheon with a friend is cancelled because she can't get off Toronto Island where she lives. Now she sent a note to say her French class tonight has been cancelled due to the weather.

All my neighbours and I seem to do is shovel the snow and complain about the cold.

Meanwhile, down under in the land of Oz, The Man's been to the beach. It's hovers around 30C during the day and 20C at night.

These opposites in our temperature and locale made me wonder where the hottest and coldest places on Earth are. This is what I learned.

The hottest air temperatures recorded were:

- Iran's Lut Desert at 70.7C in 2005
- El Azizia in Libya at 66C in 1922
- Death Valley in California occasionally reaches 56.6C

The coldest air temperatures recorded were:

- Vostok, Antarctica at -89.2C in 1983
- Oymyakon, Siberia at -71.2C. People apparently live here.

It's all relative, isn't it, how hot or cold a place is? -4C and snow in Toronto. Not so bad.

Don't Bank On It

A few years ago, my bank offered me a line of credit. I didn't want it but the bank teller talked me into accepting it. I haven't used the line of credit at all. Now I receive a letter from my bank telling me that due to the costs of lending in this economic climate, they will starting charging a fee for unused lines of credit.

That means, if I have a line of credit and I don't use it in 365 days, I have to pay the bank an inactivity fee! And the charge is retroactive to 2006!

Whoa. They talk me into taking a line of credit I didn't want and don't need, and now they want to charge me for it? That's just like they talked me into having overdraft protection on an account I never write cheques on. You don't get charged if you don't write cheques, the teller said, You only pay in the month that you need the protection. So I said okay. Now I am seeing a monthly charge of $3 for overdraft protection.

This is the same bank that years ago we had our mortgage with. They were supposed to take payments every second week. But one time, they withdrew two weeks in a row. That made all my cheques that week bounce, for which the bank charged me $25 for each bounced cheque. I complained. But they would not reimburse me. A few months later, they did the same thing. So as soon as our mortgage was up, we switched banks.

I phoned the bank to cancel my line of credit and kill my overdraft protection. I am tired of this bank's unscrupulous practices.

They are quite incredible. Before cancelling my line of credit, the phone rep said, You have a balance. I felt my blood stirring. But I could tell he was reading from a script. He summed up with, You have a balance of zero so we will be paying off your line of credit from your chequing account with a transfer of zero dollars.

I took a deep breath and said with gritted teeth, Okay.

Then I asked him to take out the overdraft protection on my chequing account. He transferred me to another department.

This new phone rep offered to change my overdraft protection to a different kind, one where I get charged only if I use it. I said, That's the one I thought I had until I started seeing the monthly charge. He said, No, but that's what I switched you into now.

Thing is, on the phone, these reps are very helpful, so you can't get too mad at them, especially because you know they didn't make the policies and administer the errors. And I can't quit them because I hold joint accounts at this bank with Mom. But do you think I would seek out this bank if I actually needed credit? Not on your life.

It's Some Kinda Groovy

I've been listening to Jay and the Americans. They were a group popular in the 60's...cuz I'm on this retro music nostalgia kick. I listen to the voice as an instrument and marvel at the range and mood a human voice is capable of conveying.

Jay and the Americans is on their third Jay. There really is a Jay. The first two had to change their names to Jay and now they finally got a lead singer whose real name is Jay. Of course these guys are in their 60's. But they still sing. In some of their earlier songs, I can't tell the difference between the band's Jay singing and Roy Orbison. Roy did not record with them. Only in some of the high and fast notes that Jay hit could I detect a difference. Their songs are so much fun.

And there is The Animals. A truly marvellous performing group because of Eric Burdon's voice and expressive stage presence. Again the voice! In some of their songs, I can't tell the difference between Eric Burdon and Mick Jagger. They both produce that gravelly baritone howling sound when they want.

My favourite Animals song is Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood. The lyrics are so human.

Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad.

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a joy that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that, all I have to do is worry
And then you're bound to see my other side

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy, I want you to know,
That I never mean to take it out on you
Life has its problems, and I get my share,
And that's one thing I never mean to do

'Cause I love you,
Oh

Oh, oh, oh, baby - don't you know I'm human
I have thoughts like any other one
Sometimes I find myself, Lord, regretting
Some foolish thing, some little simple thing I've done

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Yes, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

The song was written for Nina Simone and I'm trying to find her version to hear how she sings it. But I love how Eric pleads he's only human in a love song. There's such strength, self-awareness and vulnerability at the same time.

I am surprised that most of The Animals' songs are more bluesy than rock. You wouldn't know they were a British band.

So here's my unsurprising confession I hope. When The Boy is not home, I turn up the music and sing along with all these old bands. But here's the surprising part. I told my next door neighbour what I've been listening to. She said on nights when her husband is away, her daughter is asleep, and she knows I'm out, she goes down to the basement and cranks up music from the 70's and dances to it!

Got It!

First time in my painting class and I learned something. In all the drawing classes I attended, I never understood what the instructors meant when they said you have to darken the background and lighten the foreground to bring out contrast and give your object depth. I muck about my drawings and sometimes come up with something not too bad without ever knowing what I did right.

So in Painting today, the instructor said the same thing - darken the background and lighten the foreground, highlight the object and work in the details, etc. I said, "I don't know what you mean. I don't see details. I see everything in 2-D."

He said, "Let me demonstrate. If you don't see the details, make them up." Then he put dark colours around my objects and white dabs where the light reflects off the object. I stood back. It was amazing. My bottles and balls suddenly popped off the canvas in 3-D vitality.

"My god, that's a completely different painting," I said.

"No, that's your painting. I just showed you the technique to give it depth," he replied.

I love my painting class already.

They're Out There

My friend and I went to a Reggae Fusion dance class this week. I liked it much better than the Street Ballet class.

When we arrived at the studio, a group of squeegy kids (although some of them surely can't be kids any more) hovered at the entrance to the studio stairs. That's where they keep warm between traffic light changes.

We were early. So we stood in the stairwell at the front of the building where there was a big window and looked out onto the corner of Queen and Spadina. The squeegy people had a routine. One of them always stayed in the shadow. Only one went to work on a car at a time, while the others hovered over a little brown puppy wrapped in a coat. They cleaned a car's windshield whether the driver wanted them to or not, even if the driver waved no to them. Despite that, almost all of the drivers gave the squeegy kids something - usually money change or cigarettes.

Today, I went to my pilates class. Parking is always a problem at the pilates studio. I nabbed a parking spot and rushed into the building to evade the wind and cold. Then I looked out the glass windows and saw a man ride up on his motorcycle. He parked and came running into the building too.

As he hurried, he took his helmet off. He had short, white cropped hair. It looked like he usually shaved his head but hair was coming in now. He was roundish, but in that way that doesn't look fat on older people. He must've been over 60. Then he took his leather jacket off. He had on a dark T-shirt under and his arms were fully tattooed. I couldn't make out what was on them as I didn't want to seem too intent on examining his arms in the elevator.

The man could have been a film producer, an artist, a window washer, or a bike gang member.

He followed me into the pilates studio. There in the foyer, he greeted several people and took his pants off. Whew, he had a pair of stretch shorts under. I went into the pilates class after I got changed. The man came in too. He was in my pilates class!

When you don't work during the day, you meet all sorts. But good on him.

Musically Challenged

I am on a nostalgic music row.

I caught a tune by Hall and Oates recently and couldn't get it out of my head. I came home and downloaded a file, hoping it contains that song in my head. It contained all their songs! All 16 albums of them. Now I can't stop listening to them and I think, Yeah, they're really good, even though one of the guys can't sing. And I would go see them if they ever come up my way, 'cause apparently, they are still touring. I bet they've been to Casino Rama.

I'm like three decades behind in music. When Hall and Oates was popular back in the 80's, I didn't care much for them. Snappy tunes, I thought, no substance. Can't even dance to their beat. Never mind that I couldn't dance and was not in the habit of going to dance parties, or that I liked Abba because they were even snappier. But they also were savvy business musicians who never pretended to produce anything but bubblegum music. And look how popular their songs are now.

Being stuck in time must run in the family. I mean, like Bro, who tries to show me how he still rocks it with John Denver when we are in his car. Or Bro Bro, whose fondest memory of a concert is still the one of Jerry Vale at the Royal York Hotel when the Royal York was an exclusive place to go. I wasn't at that concert, but I heard that even back then, there were only senior citizens in the audience. Or Sis, who made me download her favourite song one day. It is still Charlene's I've Never Been To Me, which first reached the charts in 1977.

So I have to admit that The Boy didn't inherit his musicality and rhythm from my side of the family, just his good looks and brains.

Blast From The Past

My goodness. Today, I relived my youth. I found on YouTube videos of some of the songs that I liked in my teen years. I've never seen them performed before. But YouTube had clips of the original bands singing those songs. Here they are. Most of these guys, in their sixties now, are still touring.

The Archies doing Sugar Sugar
Ron Dante is the singer for The Archies. How adorable he was. He also sang for The Cufflinks, which churned out a hit song called Tracy. He sang commercial jingles in his day. He went on to produce Barry Manilow tunes and the broadway show Ain't Misbehavin'.

Vanity Fare doing Hitching A Ride
This band is touring for sure. But I think the singer struggles a bit now to sing.

Edison Lighthouse doing Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)
Here's tidbit I didn't know. The singer for this "band" was a session singer. He fronted five hit songs under different bands all within five years. These were all one-hit-wonders. When he appeared on TV with the band, he looked completely different for each one!

Climax doing Precious and Few
Sonny Geraci was the singer for Climax. He too was sort of a session singer. He sang with The Outsiders before Climax. Precious and Few was apparent written especially for him to showcase his vocals. But he quit the music business after Climax.

Shocking Blue doing Venus
I didn't know the singer of this song was a woman!

The Doors on Ed Sullivan doing Light My Fire. The band was told just before they went on, to change the lyrics from "Girl we couldn't get much higher" to "Girl we couldn't get much better". The show felt "higher" sounded like an endorsement of the casual drug culture. Jim sang "higher" anyway.

I see why The Doors have such staying power. Jim Morrison was young, good looking, a cool cool dresser, had a powerful voice, and wrote most of the lyrics to their songs. Apparently, he was charismatic too. They really were something. Their sound and lyrics are relevant even today.

La Fin Du Debut

Now I remember. I was a browner at school. When I wasn't distracted, I did well in all my classes. But when I was pre-occupied with finding my way in life, I floundered and failed at school. That happened in later years. But I did find a life and got pretty good at it.

Now in French class, I am a browner again. I am on time, I understand the lessons, I do my homework, I am keen. I even talk to the teachers in French! during break time. I make mistakes and I am glad I make them, because those are the grammatical points and vocabulary that I remember.

So today ends my week of being a French student full time. It was exhausting and I am glad to stop. I need to absord and practise all that I've learned. But I miss the class already. As the class ended today, we sat there waiting for our homework assignment. The teacher shooed us out of the room.

Before we left, he said our school uses the new language methodology established by the European Council to set the language requirements and levels for our courses so that we can be assessed on an international academic standard. Our class has undoubtedly catapulted into the intermediate level no matter where we continue our French from this point on. We are no longer beginners.

Coming home today, I had trouble adjusting. I had to sort out my English words to ask the TTC server whether trains were running. When he answered, I tried to translate what he said into English, only to remember English is my best language and I understood him fine. But for about an hour after, I expected people in the street to speak French, and I did catch two people speaking it! They wondered whether they should walk or wait for the bus that wasn't coming!

I feel like I have a secret superpower.

And I lost four pounds this week. Yeah, French is good for me.

The Audacity!

I am in French class all this week. We finished a lesson on making inquiries after a new born baby. The very next day, I received an email from a friend in France who had a baby a few months ago. So I immediate put my lesson to use and made inquiries after her baby in French!

I made mistakes of course, but she was too polite to point them out. She just answered my questions in French and told me more about her new baby.

Now I have signed up for another French course. Not an intensive full time one. They are not offering them again till July. So starting next week, on Fridays, I will be a full time student for the day. French in the morning and painting in the afternoon!

Old People

A friend and I decided we didn't want to go into a gym for our exercise. We wanted something more fun, like modern dance. So I found us the Street Dance Academy at Spadina and Queen.

I phoned the dance studio before going in. Yes, they said, even around 50, we are not too old to do their dances. True, most of their students are university students and working adults, but some of their students, though none as old as the two of us, have even given birth and they still come to class.

So my friend and I thought, What the heck, let's give it a go and see what happens. Tonight, we showed up for a class called Street Ballet.

The instructor was a pretty young woman and a good dancer, obviously classically trained in ballet. There were ten of us in class. Except for my friend and me, all the students were in their 20's. Half were men, which is unusual. Men don't usually take dance classes. Not that the students were particularly graceful or coordinated dancers. It was just that my friend and I were particularly bad.

Physically, there was a huge difference between us and the others. I mean huge. We had visible, round, blubbery middles and chests. The others had none. There were moves we just couldn't do because of our knee pains. The others mimicked all of the instructor's moves. There were step sequences that didn't register with us. The others followed through. I did every move with one hand on a wall. Everyone else could balance on their own. At one point, I took a long time to get off the floor for fear of snapping a bone. Everyone else was up and moving. My friend fell. No one else did.

Every time I looked in the wall mirror, I said to myself, There are the dancers and the two old people.

At the end of the class, my friend and I rolled out of the studio and collapsed laughing into a couch. We decided that because physically there is more of us to turn, it just takes us longer to turn than the others. And the other thing is, if we could actually do some of the moves, we would have less trouble doing several of those moves in sequence.

You'd think after an experience like that, we'd learned our lesson and keep to people our own age. But nope. We are going back on Monday for a class called Reggae Fusion.

Sobering Up

The new year is a sobering time. One of my neighbours is clearly depressed. He shovels the snow and says hello to me. But I detect a distracted grimness in his greeting. Another is honing in on her chores. She shovels the snow too and says hello when we see each other. She seems tired. Her movements suggest if she didn't focus on her shovelling, she'd forget what she was doing outside. That's how I meet with my neighbours, shovelling the snow out there.

Most of my friends seem focused on work, or are nesting.

I don't feel sober. I feel...ill. Not because of gluttony (maybe just a little) or hives (sure, a little of that too), but because I am so disappointed in The Boy. He didn't get the grades he needed to get into downtown U of T. Despite being told if he showed up for class everyday and handed in all his assignments, he would do well, he didn't. Now he will be in school again next semester.

With his current grades, he can be accepted into other universities or colleges, but he's determined to get back into downtown U of T.

The second school semester hasn't started yet. He's already talking about loopholes. I'm thinking outside the box, he said. He figures that if he gets 90's in the new courses at the beginning of the term, he will be accepted at U of T. The stipulation for acceptance is he must complete high school. But since he's already completed high school, he can drop out of school after the first term grades are submitted, without completing the courses. That way, he can still spend the rest of the semester and the summer doing other things.

What things, I asked. Whatever, he said. I am all for thinking outside the box and the entrepreneurial spirit. But The Boy sometimes borders on snaky behaviour in my mind. I can't help but ask, Where did I go wrong as a parent?

I have to keep reminding myself, nothing, I did nothing wrong. There are parental expectations and there is what one has to learn for oneself in the process of maturation. Aren't the things I value most the things I fought hardest for?

But as a parent, I still feel it is my duty to issue advice and warn him about the potential pitfalls of his plan. I told him he would be cheating himself out of learning, creating a bad record, setting a pattern of looking for loopholes and shortcuts, forfeiting his chance at being an Ontario scholar, and disqualifying himself from scholarships to fund his university. What not maximize the benefits of this fifth year in school? Maybe I am sober after all.

He said what I say makes sense, but he still has too look for that loophole and know that it exists. Whether he goes through it will be another issue. I can't nor do I want to quash his outside the box thinking. And he may have to learn the hard way that he actually has to apply himself to get what he wants in the adult world. Life has been too easy for him. Maybe he will sober up if he fails at what he wants a few times. But how can I wish for failure for my son? I don't. But he's a young man now. His successes and failures and how he sobers up are his to determine.

Into January

So that's it. It was a whirlwind stay. The Man came, we feted, he left. Immediately, the house feels empty.

The Man spends two weeks in Kabul to wrap up his work, then heads to Australia to visit his cousins. I would love to go with him, especially since he can get me there on points. But I said no to it. I feel it's more important that I stay put and tend to some of the activities I had put in place for this new year. It's not often I look forward to doing something. Right now, I look forward to my activities and I don't want to be derailed.

Next week, I start another full time French course. I also start painting. I am giddy about this. My pottery class starts the week after. I missed it so. Several times over the holidays I wanted to go into the studio to get my hands dirty. My pilates classes have already started though I have yet to go to one. Now that I have ready transportation again, exercise will be a regular part of my week again. Sis put the fear of morbid obesity in me.

Tomorrow, I have a book club meeting. I have yet to read the book. This weekend, I am visiting a friend up north but I have a compulsion to clean the house and take down the Christmas tree before doing anything. Maybe I am more of a Befana than I thought.

The Power Of Drugs

One night after dinner, my face broke out in welts. The next morning, my face started itching. I was having an allergic reaction to something, though who knows what.

In the afternoon, I went to the pharmacy. The druggist recommended I took a 24-hour non-drowsy dose of antihistamine, then follow up with another dose at bed time. Because I'd be double dosing, I would sleep through the night, plus get a stronger treatment for my allergy.

So at 2 PM, I took my first pill. At 11 PM, I took my second. I slept like a baby through out the night. But in the morning, I was groggy. I stayed in bed. Then at 1 PM, I woke up refreshed. It was exactly 23 hours since my first dose of antihistamine. The double-dosing effect was over.

It also reminds me of years ago when I fell skating and broke my wrist. The Emergency doctor said he would knock me out for half an hour and reset my wrist. He gave me a shot. I looked at the time. In the blink of an eye, I woke up, exactly 30 minutes later. My wrist was in a cast and I had no memory of the 30 minutes that passed.

I marvel at the exactness of drug dosing.