The Chain Letter Equivalency

I love Facebook, yes even with the new timeline. I love seeing pictures of my cousins' babies all the way over in the UK, and keeping up with the lives of friends who live around the country. Without Facebook, my connection with these people would be tenuous: a Christmas card, and an occasional phone call, at best.

But there is one thing that Facebook enables that drives me crazy and I call it the chain letter equivalency. You know what I'm talking about...a post that makes a comment or suggestion (often quite interesting) and then urges everyone to "repost on your status if you agree with it." Sometimes it goes even further, implying that if you don't repost, you are perhaps not the very good friend you assumed yourself to be.

I just want to get one thing straight for all my FB friends...If I didn't want to follow you, I wouldn't. Simple as that. So sorry if I don't post a word in the comments that describes you and starts with the third letter of my name, and then repost to my status because it will be fun. Sorry if I am one of the many who won't repost a disease or condition for only one hour on my status. Let me reassure you that I care about you, and about the disease, and about small chia pets in Egypt - I just don't want to repost the information.

Now, I am mocking just a little. And because I have a friend considering joining Facebook (Hi Julie), let me also say quite seriously that what I get out of this social media platform far eclipses this reposting nonsense. And many things that are reposted are fascinating, timely and entertaining, for example this one (thank you, Keitha!):

But one that circulated today started this rant because it, in particular, epitomizes all that is silly and annoying about these things.

It looks like this:

If you have a wonderful man in your life... A man who helps bring balance to your world... A man who is perfect for you... A man who would do anything for you....A man who makes you laugh and drives you crazy....A man who is your best friend and soul mate..... A man who you want to grow old with.... A man who you're thankful for everyday and is the one and only true love of your life.... Brag about him a little and repost this! I LOVE YOU (INSERT NAME HERE)=)


Seriously. Seriously!

If you do have a man like that in you life, by all means brag about him. By all means post about how you love and adore him (though too much baring of souls in a public forum is another form of Facebook abuse, so tread carefully). By all means tell us that he is the yin to your yang, that he brings you flowers for no reason, or that he picks up the kids and makes dinner without complaint.

But don't do it

• in a cut and paste post 
• that someone else created 
• because someone else told you to.

Not cool. Definitely not romantic.

Rule Rant

I had a call from the school bus company today. They were very sorry, but since Grace is currently on crutches due to a potentially cracked bone in her foot, they cannot allow her to ride the bus. Never mind the kids I've seen in the past riding the bus with crutches - we've had to tighten the rules this year, the pleasant voiced lady informed  me. And with this rain, it's slippery. And if she falls... And she can't take the crutches to her seat... And getting in and out is hard...

Spare me. I get it. I'll drive her.

I'm not fooled. This is not about Grace's inherent safety, though  obviously they prefer to couch it in language that implies otherwise. This is about their own fear of liability and about convenience.

The post office does the same. I've heard of mail failing to be delievered because the step up was an inch higher than the "regulation" allowed.

And school boards, always a bastion of rule establishment, have taken it even further: No home-made snacks. Indoor shoes must have white soles. Math must be in a yellow duo-tang. (Our board hasn't yet gone to the extent one Chicago board did recently-disallowing all packed lunches because they couldn't guarantee they were healthy enough-but the food police are no doubt rubbing their hands in glee at the prospect.)

Some rules are smart. Don't drink and drive. Pay taxes (I could quibble here, but won't). Don't eat raw chicken.

But so many of them, so many more of them it seems, are flimsy and stupid.

Sigh. Feeling rebellious - gonna have to break a rule. But which one?

Touch The Earth Lightly

There are so many beautiful churches in Glengarry, and St Andrew's United in Martintown has to be one of the jewels. The church is old, very old. It sits up from the road beside the river looking for all the world like it grew up there, and not (as so many churches today do) like it was foisted on its surroundings without thought to beauty or peace. Rough and weathered gravestones tumble around, at once reminding us of the fleeting nature of life and the paradoxical continuity of it.

We participated this morning - for the first time ever - in a Good Friday church service. It was held in St Andrew's United on behalf of the United and Presbyterian churches in Martintown. The Reverend Andrea Harrison cleverly wove an Earth Day theme into the Good Friday service, reminding us that we all cause great suffering to our planet and need to find ways to live in harmony with it. She invited us because Anna recently participated in a speech competition and spoke about the importance of standing up for the environment, and Andrea kindly asked Anna to do part of her speech again today for the combined congregations.

There are lots of things I could say here. About the service; the music (which was amazing); about how Earth Day isn't about saving our world which has been here for millenia, but is about saving ourselves from our own stupidity; about Anna, her siblings and friends and their "green" outlook (they just started a Going Green in Glengarry club) as they face an environmental crisis they are not yet fully aware of.  But I will save all that for another day, and leave you with words from one of the songs sung this morning, which I think captures the essence of the crucifixion of the earth theme.

Touch the earth lightly, use the earth gently
Nourish the life of the world in our care
Gift of great wonder, ours to surrender
Trust for the children tomorrow will bear

We who endanger, who create hunger

Agents of death for all creatures we love

We who would foster clouds of disaster

God of our planet, forstall and forgive.

Thanks to Rev. Andrea Harrison for the invitation, and to her and Rev Ian MacMillan (of another beautiful Glengarry Church) for the service.

Double Time

What's the right term? I "twitted" the elected debate last night gives off a casualness that is unfair. To Twitter. But that's what I did. Instead of tuning in to the radio which aired live coverage, I turned to Twitter and followed the action there.

But the debate is not what I want to write about. Though I will say that though the leaders themseves did not inspire - same old arguments, same old tirade, same old mud-slinging - Twitter, more specifically, the reactions of people on Twitter, did and for the first time in years I found myself feeling hopeful about the state of Canadian politics.

One of the funny things about Twitter is that although I was focused on the debate, other things kept popping up. Like the friend looking for a highland dance outfit for her daughter. Or like the discussion around Jamie Oliver's TV show. And just like at a cocktail party, I found myself participating in one conversation but being aware of numerous others happening around me.

That's not what I want to write about either.

What interested me this morning was another Tweet giving a link to the Jamie Oliver show for all those who had missed it because of the debate.

It made me think. So many of us are busy. We know it, we feel it, we say it. Yes, we sometimes complain about it. And I wonder if we aren't all part of the problem. If our technology, rather than saving us time, actually enables us to get busier.

Last night for example, people had the choice between watching the election debate and watching Jamie Oliver. You make a decision, and maybe you make the wrong one. The point is that during that hour long slot of time you pick one thing. But with the internet and innovative TV scheduling, we no longer have to pick one. And so we can watch Jamie Oliver this morning. On our own schedule. Good news, right?

Hang on, but that means another choice that has to be made (and hopefully it's not nutritious breakfast or Jamie Oliver because that would be deliciously ironic) .

I'm not being particularly articulate, but I am in a rush to get off to class. What I think I am trying to say that if we see events as things we can manipulate, push around, watch, do, or participate in at our own convenience,we are at risk of trying to fit too many things into our lives. If we didn't have the option to watch Jamie Oliver another time, we would have a whole extra hour today. Instead, we are trying to borrow time from the future to get everything done.

It's like a line of credit that you just can't ever pay back.

On My Own

What does a Saturday on your own look like? Here's mine:

• Drink coffee, kiss husband and kids goodbye and watch them drive away to camp.
• Check emails, twitter, facebook
• Drink more coffee
• Tidy kitchen, throw in laundry, load dishwasher
• Morning run, followed by hot shower and more coffee, on back steps, facing the warm morning sun
• Figure out what to wear to a writer's conference on a day that is neither cool enough for pants or warm enough for bare legs
• Writer's Conference, hang out at library
• Treat myself to a Cafe Latte and lunch, read a book on my kobo at the coffee shop before heading home
• Hang laundry, do a garden reconaissance, figure out what needs to be done, make a list
• Read on the deck in a lawnchair for a blissful, precious hour.
• Write
• Decide some work is in order so head back to garden to rake away some of last year's foliage and reveal new shoots :)
• Walk the dog through the fields, shout back at the nosiy snow geese, wish I had my camera
• Read
• Write
• Open Wine
• Listen to opera. Loudly. While having a long lesisurely bubble bath
• Eat scrambled eggs
• Blog
• Watch a chick flick - Eat Pray Love tonight. Will it hold up to the book (which I quite enjoyed)?

The End

(my plans to have dinner with a friend and then head to the arts evening fizzled after I raked my gardens and realized that what I really wanted was some down time. So lovely.)

Two Minutes

I know the value of managing my time. I know how to keep a pretty good balance between work, family, domestic chores, and downtime.

I say that with my tongue firmly in cheek. It might be true in the abstract big picture universal truth sense, but the reality is sometimes very different.

This I discovered Sunday morning.

I spent a big chunk of time the latter half of this week - and part of Saturday while the kids and Andrew were out at an insectarium with the cubs - catching up on work. A combination of factors really. Starting behind the eight ball when I first started full time freelancing, a snowball effect as manuscripts started to come in all together, a weekend away in New Brunswick coupled with a heavy cold that left me fuzzy headed and unable to focus...all of them meant that I had some looming deadlines that I needed to meet.

I finished it all. It felt really good. There was just ONE thing, a quick eyeball of a final chapter finished late in the afternoon. No problem, I told myself. I'll look it over really quickly Sunday morning and send it out to the author before she leaves for her cottage at noon.

There are a whole lot of "What if's" here that might have changed the way that worked out. But the bottom line is that we were leaving the house that morning for a special funtion with the kids and we had to be there for 11am. I had the manuscript done. I ate breakfast. I got the kids dressed, hair brushed. I got dressed. Heck, I even brushed my own hair. And then I took the five minutes before we left to connect to my email and send it...and the internet was slow. It wasn't working. It was taking forever.

The kids were waiting in the car, Andrew was pacing, the clock was ticking. I HAD TO LEAVE.

If I had two extra minutes, I'd have got that out on time. As it was, it had to wait until this afternoon when I got back.

Not a big deal really. I hate missing a deadline, but it was minor as far as it goes. But to me it was like the universe just gave me a big fat wake up call.

Two minutes!! If your time is at the point where two minutes can make or break it, it's NOT well managed.

It's like that some mornings getting the kids to the bus. A frantic rush to eat, make lunches get out the door with bags, homework and shoes on the right feet. Two minutes late and I have to drive them - a 45 minute round trip.

But get up half an hour earlier and it's a nice leisurely pace. Time for a song, a dance, a laugh, a revision of homework, a chat, a jump on the trampoline. We are all much happier.

And it's the same with work. Get ahead of it and you have time for things to go wrong, time for a second look, time to have a cold and just spend a couple of days in bed.

The two minute warning bell went off.

I hope I learned from it.

Yellow Wood

Just when everything is going along swimmingly - I love teaching, my classes are going well, I have a bunch of terrific novels in various stages of editing that I am thrilled and excited to be working on, the kids are doing well, and Spring is coming - change rears its head.

Not all change is bad, of course. This change isn't even a change. More the opportunity for a change. The question is do I want change at all?

I just made changes, leaving my corporate job for freelance editing and the life of a part time college prof. I am happy with them. All things being even, I'd leave it exactly the way it is.

But...

But change doesn't always come when you are looking for it. Sometimes it shows up when you least expect it. And like the "two roads diverged in a yellow wood" in Frost's poem, you will always wonder what might have happened if you took the other path.

And so I am thinking.


(Don't worry - I will still be writing, editing, teaching. Some things are too good to give up.)

Tonight

Tonight, I am in the house alone. Andrew took the kids to Cubs and afterwards to a friend's house where they are sleeping over.

Tonight, I am working late to make up for taking two unexpected days off. It's March Break, and we decided to head into our capital city for a mini break. I took my laptop, somehow convincing myself I would find time to do a bit of work, but seriously, who was I kidding?

Tonight, I completed final edits on a manuscript. Edits I will look at again tomorrow in the light of day to make sure nothing slipped past my tired brain.

Tonight, I am preparing for classes tomorrow. I want to discuss the influence of Russian writers on 19th and 20th century fiction, and my memory is a little rusty. But as I get into it, it comes back to me, and I remember. It makes me sad and happy. Sad that so much of what we learn gets lost, but happy that it isn't really lost and if we dust it off, it's still there somewhere.

Tonight, I am ignoring the detritus that is my house after a hasty dinner, a bunch of unpacked and repacked suitcases, and a rushed evening, not to mention a week of kids being home.

Tonight, the only sound is the thrum of the washing machine, and the faint strains of Sergei Rachmaninoff's piano playing on the stereo (inspiration for the Russian literature).

Tonight, I am feeling a bit chilled, and am drinking hot tea.

Tonight, I am looking forward to a good night's sleep in my own bed.

Coffee shops

I am sitting here at The Grind, a downtown coffee shop that, incidentally sells great panini lunches and conveniently has wireless internet. I just finished making grammar fun (I hope - did you know ghoti spells fish?) for my college comms class, and normally I'd be heading home to edit. But Anna won her class speaking competition and is participating in the school competition today at 1:30, and she has invited me to go. Since I am not going home only to turn around and come back (the joys of living in the country), I thought I'd spend an hour editing here instead.

Except....that's not what I am doing, is it.

And why not? Because I am nosy, and I'm far more interested in the people around me than I am in working. It's very distracting. Those three in the corner...business colleagues, or old friends out for a long-overdue lunch. And the man by the fireplace...in for a coffee because he's retired and this is a nice place to get away for an hour, or because he has nowhere else to go? The two young girls in thigh high leather boots and short skirts...trendy entrepreneurs or best friends skipping class?

Oh, I don't eavesdrop - I am above that - but snippets of conversation do float across the rom from time to time, and it fascinates me, probably more than it should, to hear what people are talking about, and to try and piece together not who they are, but who they could be. There is potential in everyone. It is no wonder writers write in coffee shops.

I've always had this fascination with cafe's. The Green Bean in Halifax was the first one I was introduced to back when I first spent summers in that amazing city with the navy. People played chess in the corners, and there was organic fair trade coffee way, way, WAY before it was mainstream. And artsy or subversive student newspapers full of idealism. Loved that spot, though I was never edgy enough to really fit in. The Cave too - for late night coffee and cheesecake where we talked about philosophy and politics deep into the night by the light of dripping wax candles in ancient wine bottles. Do people still do that? It seems so long ago.

Or the little coffee house (can't recall it's name) on Duckworth STreet in Saint Johns, NFLD, where I went every morning for two weeks to drink their strong house blend, eat a blueberry muffin, and write while I was in the city on an exercise.

Cafe Du Monde in Quebec City. The Bagel place in Kitsilano, Vancouver (where I first had bagels covered in baked-in asiago cheese - Mmm!) So many great coffee shops. So many great places to sit and people watch.

And write.

This and That, Part II

One thing that being pressured for time does is force you to focus. I gave whatever I was doing - turnover work briefs, edits, making presentations for the literature class I am teaching - my complete attention. The down side is that some of the other things I love to do - blogging, reading, long walks with the dog, writing - didn't get done.  I had small chunks of time- long enough to update Facebook, or comment on Twitter, and about 24 minutes a day (the 12 min drive to and from the office) to think. It was in these 24 minutes that I came to a realization:

On Joy
So many of the things I do - you too probably - I do because they have become part of my routine. What I found was that some of the things I temporarily gave up were not things I missed. In addition, during the activities I did make time for, I became hyper-aware of how much pleasure they gave me. Or didn't give me.

This gift of clarity is not without complications. One of the things in particular grieves me when I consider not doing it, and I need to figure out whether it is something that the joy can be salvaged from, or whether I am in mourning for what was once wonderful and now need to accept that it/I has/have changed and move on.

On Facebook
One thing that I really enjoyed during this brief but insane period was the connection Facebook provided. I didn't have time for long phonecalls with friends or drinks out with the girls, but through social media I was able to feel like I was still part of the human race. I knew what was going on, even if I couldn't participate. And I love how easy that is. Facebook as a communications tool is fantastic. Through it I keep in touch with family in the UK, friends around the world, navy pals across Canada, and - even though I never expected this - it's even super helpful for local friends. I can't tell you how many play dates, get togethers, and invitations I have given/received through this medium.

There is always a dark side though. Communication can get twisted and assumptions made. I found that out this past week and without going into details, may I just remind everyone that Facebook messaging is not the place to air a grievance. Also that psychological warfare doesn't work on me.

On Health
Two weeks ago I woke up with a terrible neck pain. Too many hours at a computer, no doubt, coupled with the stress of doing too many things. It has only just healed - two weeks of carefully watching my posture, sleeping so my spine is straight (as opposed to the little ball I normally curl into), and gentle stretches. It made me very much aware of how valuable health is. We take it for granted, but during my two weeks of agony all my activities were marred by the pain, and I was even crankier and more cynical than usual (those of you who knew me in my Deximenes days will not be surprised; everyone else - to whom I am no doubt sweetness and light embodied - just needs to take my word for it)!

On Spring
I love winter and we've had a fabulous one on the slopes or snowshoing through the forest. But spring is around the corner.

Don't believe me?

See for yourself:

The first lamb has arrived, a true harbinger of Spring, even among hardier sheep stock. And like every year when this happens I am filled with a sense of wonder and a feeling of cheerfulness. Nothing is so cute as a lamb. Absolutely nothing. It's put a huge smile on my face.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Why Christmas?

I don't want to get into a debate about Christianity, but I do wonder what it is about the season that makes even non-religious people participate with such enthusiasm.

It could be that the Coca-cola version of the holiday - buy presents, get together, eat, drink and be merry - has taken over. But I don't think so.

Personally, I think it's because the message at Christmas is essentially one that is universal. Christmas is about Peace on Earth. Love and Goodwill to Man. Comfort and Joy. And yes many people find that in religion. But many people find it without religion as well.

In the messages of hope that abound this time of year;, as we light up our homes to ward off the dark days of winter (or metaphorically, if you prefer); and as we open our homes and hearths to friends and neighbours, there is something special about the season that brings happiness to those who embrace it.

One of my favourite Christmas songs is actually a poem written by American Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1836. In it he talks about hearing the bells, and their song of hope and joy. He questions that, despairing: And in despair I bowed my head/there is no peace on earth I said/For hate is strong and mocks the song/Of peace on earth, goodwill to man.

He was thinking of the civil war when he wrote about that hate. We can just as easily apply it to any one of a hundred situations around the world today. Despair, under these circumstances, is easy.

But the bells continue, refusing to give in to that. And in the end, Longfellow could not resist: Then pealed the bells more loud and deep/God is not dead nor does he sleep/the wrong shall fail, the right prevail/In peace on earth, goodwill to man.

For a short time, at Christmas, it is easy to believe that the world is in harmony. That there can indeed be peace on earth.

It's a promise of hope that we can all relate to.

We interrupt this Christmas spirit....

...to talk about Festivus.

Actually, to find out more about Festivus, check out my friend Laura's blog. It sounds really fun. One of the things I particularly liked was the idea of airing grievances, so I thought I'd take advantage of the Festivus tradition to air a few grievances of my own.

1. Folksy Softeners: I saw a sign in the mall by Santa's workshop that read Folks, no private cameras and it got me wondering about that word Folks, and how it gets used when you want to soften the message you are about to impart. As if prefacing with Folks makes it acceptable to get away with saying something people won't like. As if saying it makes you avuncular, hearty, one of them. You're the jovial uncle saying put those cameras away for now - we don't need them here instead of the hard nosed business wanting to scrape every nickel it can out of Christmas shoppers and children eager to sit with Santa for a moment.
2. Nothing for Christmas: When I ask you what you'd like for Christmas and you say nothing, that just having your friends and family around is enough, I smile. I get that. We all do. But assume for a moment that if I am asking you, it is because I am going to buy you a Christmas present and have no clue what you would like. If you absolutely refuse to help me out, you are going to get something you don't want which doesn't make sense for either of us. What I really want to hear is Having my family and friends around is enough, but I'd really like the new Tom Clancy book out in paperback or a chocolate orange. Thank you.
3. Holiday Trees: No, no, no, no, no. It's a Christmas tree. Always has been. Don't try to change it. And while we're on the subject, why does political correctness always take the fun out of everything. It takes the sublime (whether it's Christmas, Hanukkah, Ramadan or Kwanzaa) and reduces it to a bland mass of homogeneity with no heart or soul. We shouldn't live in a world where we're afraid to say Merry Christmas for fear of offense. Crazy.
4. Advertising: I know this is the biggest season for stores. And they need to make money. But honestly, does Christmas advertising have to be so abrasive and in-your-face. You want. You need. You should have. You must buy. Buy $100 now and we'll give you a free coupon for $5 off your next purchase of $100 or more. Wow. Thank you so much. Now I love Christmas shopping - buying the right gifts for people. But the ads drive me crazy. They start early, ramp up to a pre-Christmas frenzy, and then - in case that's not enough - start in on Boxing Week (and when did Boxing Day expand to 7!). My least favourite ads - the ones that really make smoke come out of my ears - are the ones that air right after Christmas. Didn't get what you want? Auntie Ida send you another boring scarf again? You deserve more. Come in and buy ....etc. Um, isn't Christmas about other people, not yourself? And Aunt Ida probably put thought into that scarf (or you told her you wanted nothing, see point 2 above), so making fun of my relatives who tried to do something nice for me is just going to tick me off.
5. Gift Cards: This kind of ties in. And I know they have a purpose, especially for those far away. I often tuck an I-tunes or Subway gift card in for those who will use them. And I have one child who loves gift cards because they can put them in a wallet and carry them around (like Mommy's credit card). But really, gift cards are a cop out. If you don't have the time or inclination to sit down and really think of something someone will love, maybe that person should not be on your Christmas list at all. I know gift cards are convenient, but they suck the soul out of the joy of Christmas giving. Why not just give cash? Or - easier yet - we all keep our own money, and go out on Boxing Week and buy ourselves the things we really want.

Wow. I feel better already. This Festivus thing really has something going for it. Kind of a release of the inner Grinch.

Now. Back to that Christmas Spirit!

Ocular Migraine

Last week, sitting at my computer in the office, jagged shards of light started to flicker across my line of sight.

It has happened once before, about 18 months ago, at which time I rushed myself to emerg, sure I was having a stroke, only to be told I was having a migraine. A migraine with an aura (someone once told me I had an auro. I dissed them, but it turns out I do after all). The hospital did sent me for cat scans to be sure, but the lights went away, there was no pain, and life returned to normal.

Until last Friday. Of course, I was less worried this time. Oh, I thought. It's one of those migraines. And it's not like I can complain - I get no pain with them, like so many migraine sufferers. And two in 18 months hardly constitutes something to worry about, even to a hypochondriac like myself.

Naturally, I googled it. I found out that it can also be called Alice in Wonderland syndrome, the thought being that Lewis Carroll suffered the same thing and that the flashing lights inspired Alice. I'm cool with that.

I also read up on what causes them, and discovered that possible triggers include caffeine, chocolate, aged cheese, rich meat and red wine.

But if I cut them out of my diet, what will I eat?

Think I'll take the migraine.

Exhaustion

Do you ever start the week more tired than you were on Friday?

That's me today. Despite the fact that I said No to going to Toronto for a family Christmas get-together on Saturday because I wanted needed to have some down time (and didn't think an 8 hour round trip drive would count: as an aside, this was one of the only times in my life I have actually said "No" to something that I am expected to attend, and I have mixed feelings of guilt and relief); despite the fact that I turned off my computer and did zero work on the weekend - not even reading; despite the fact that I spend Saturday idly cutting back my gardens; despite the fact that I stayed Saturday night at my in-laws in Ottawa and slept in until 10am on Sunday (the difference dark blinds make to a room: my bedroom at home has no curtains at all - which is how I manage to get up at 6 every morning); despite ALL THIS, I am still tired today.

I was talking to my sister the other week about being tired. It's kind of an occupational hazard, being a parent. We do run all week - from karate on Mondays to Cubs on Thrusdays and swimming lessons on Friday, it's pretty hectic. I have an amazing husband who does most of the running round right now because I am busy with work, with editing and with teaching, but he also works a 60 hour week, so is it any wonder we get to the end of it and feel exhausted?

To be fair, we are usually better at the balance. We pack a lot into five days and then spend the weekend lollygagging around, reading, cooking, relaxing. But the past two months for one reason and another have been even more full than usual.

Time to step back. We have no going away plans between now and Christmas. No travel with kids. Oh sure we have plans over the next few weeks- a dinner party next weekend with friends, taking the kids to see Tangled some time, and I am looking forward to meeting some blogging friends in December. But these things rejuvenate and restore. 

As for being tired today, I have a plan to fix that too. After grocery shopping and karate tonight, I am going to have a long sudsy bath, a hot cup of tea, and an early night.

It's coming...

For the record, I love Christmas. True, I don't get giddy about decorating right after Hallowe'en, and in fact get downright stubborn about not shopping in stores that insist on trying to woo me with Christmas baubles too early. And we don't go and get a tree until December is well underway, preferring to draw out the anticipation.

But when I heard Elvis' White Christmas while shopping in The Bay last weekend, it bought a smile to my face, and I have started thinking about gifts.

That was about as far as I got until today when two things happened to remind me that the season is almost upon us.

First a friend who has three daughters sent an email to see if we would be up for a Christmas craft afternoon with the kids. Sounds great, I thought, and checking my calendar, was a bit shocked (as always it creeps up)  that there are only five weekend left before December 25th.

Wow.

Secondly, Andrea from A Peek Inside The Fishbowl twittered about her 25 days of Christmas tradition, which involves taking the commercializaion and rush and crazyness out of the season (well, as much as possible, anyway) with some fun, gentle, family time activities. I don't do it exactly as she does, but one of the first things I do every early December is make a list of things we can do together that maybe, just maybe, take the rush and hustle out of the weeks leading up to the big day.

Lessons From My Weekend

I spent a fabulous weekend in Toronto with some friends I've known for, oh, twenty odd years or longer, ever since university. We don't see each other very often, though I mentioned them here last year, and I came away from my weekend having learned some very important lessons.

1. I have no (as in zip, zero, zilch) sense of style - though after catching some show about how not to dress on TV late Friday night, I do know that feathers in your hair are taboo, and so are skintight catsuits. Not that I ever wore feathers or skintight catsuits.
2. I drink way more wine than either Leanne or Julie.
3. I like eating at gourmet restaurants such as Far Niente.
4. Having seen how much people buy and what the prices are at some shops, I realize I am in the wrong tax bracket.
5. Shopping in the right company can be fun although I find it hard to buy (see #1 and #4).
6. Books are still more important to me than clothes, which probably explains #1. Also I don't find it hard to buy books. Quite the opposite in fact.
7. I have willpower. Despite desperately wanting a Kobo, I know it is on Andrew's Christmas list for me, so I resisted. I did not however resist picking up The Exile. So limited willpower might describe it better.
8. I would like someone to turn down the covers and leave chocolates on my pillow every night.
9. I should probably at some point consider having my hair styled and/or wearing makeup so I can look as polished and sophisticated as my friends.
10. Despite my fear of city driving, I was able to navigate my way into the heart of downtown Toronto and back out again with ease, with aplomb, with - dare I say - grace. And without a GPS. And I am remarkably smug about that small feat (though was very happy to see country roads again).

Wicked

Short and sweet... I am writing this at 11pm on Saturday at the Business Centre of the downtown Toronto hotel where I am staying with two university friends for the weekend. We just got in from seeing this play:

And it was wonderful.

War Stories....Part II

In honour of Remembrance Day I am writing a series of war stories that I have been told about mine and Andrew's grandparents and family who lived, fought, and sometimes died in World War II. War is not just about battle. It's also about living - the everyday survival of those left behind.

Today: Andrew's Grandparents

In World War II, young Betty Hamer left her rural English home to join the army. When she walked into the mess hall the first day - one of the first wave of British women to do so - she was met by a chorus of boos from her countrymen: men who would now be off to war, their jobs on the muitions line taken by these women. Amongst the soldiers there that day was a group of Canadians. One of them - a young handsome Newfoundlander named Tom, made his way over to the women. "You're welcome to sit with us," he said.  They did and the rest was history. Betty married Tom and at the end of the war, baby-in-tow, Betty came to Canada as a war bride. 

Note: A few years ago, Betty and my mother-in-law, Liz were able to travel back to Halifax for the War Bride Reunion.

And a Special Shout Out:

Soldiers are not the only ones who are heroes. I think of all the women and children who lived through the world wars, waiting and hoping, and making do when food was short, and worrying. Sometimes it's easier to be doing something - even if it's dangerous - than it is to be sitting at home knowing your loved ones are in danger. I have always been amazed at the courage and resilience of those who lived through the world wars whether on the fighting fields, or keeping the home fires burning. I am no less in awe today. While I am one of those who appreciates all our soldiers do for us overseas and am proud of them, this shout out is for the spouses, parents, sons and daughters of those who serve their country. I'm proud of them too.

Andrew's Uncle Eldon, WWII

Torpedoed on the Shawinigan and lost at sea

War Stories ...Part I

In honour of Remembrance Day I am writing a series of war stories that I have been told about mine and Andrew's grandparents and family who lived, fought, and sometimes died in World War II. War is not just about battle. It's also about living - the everyday survival of those left behind. My grandparents lived in Liverpool, England, a city devastated by the Blitz. Andrew's grandmother joined the army, met and married a Canadian, and came to Canada as a war bride.

Today: Snippets of my grandparents.

I.
One night during World War II, Eric Callister walked Daisy Lewis home through the streets of Liverpool when the night was disturbed by the sound of the air raid sirens. The nearest shelter was minutes away, but Eric and Daisy were young and the night to that point had been so beautiful. They took their chances, and Eric walked her home. The bomb fell, as so many did, one of them directly on the air raid shelter they turned their back on, decimating the air raid shelter and everyone in it. Eric and Daisy lived to see another day, marry and raise four children, one of them my father. An example of hope and optimism during wartime.

II.
Walter Thomas Deane crawled across the dessert during the war, was captured, and spent years in a POW camp. He had two daughters, the younger of whom - my mother - was born just after the war ended and who grew up on the rubble and grime of post-war Liverpool. He survived many losses, but greatest of all perhaps to him, was the day in the 1980's when someone broke into his home and seeing nothing of real value, made off with all his war medals. An example of loss and desperation during peace.

Philosophy Dinner Party

I like dinner parties. I'm not taking about the spontaneous, casual get together dinners with friends and their kids that happen on a fairly regular basis (although they are fabulous and fun), but rather the planned, organized-in-advance, coordinated, sophisticated, formal dinner party.

Except we live in Glengarry, so nix the formal. We don't do formal round here.

And nix the sophisticated - I don't do sophistication very well either.

I like polishing glassware, setting the table, planning food, greeting guests. Eating, drinking, talking,. Catching up with friends we don't often see. Meeting new people.

Andrew and I hosted one of these on Saturday past. A party that got its start at another event years ago when I got talking to Abel about philosophy and we decided we should start having a regular themed dinner party. We've got together about four times a year since then, a small group of philosophers who have grown into a larger group. Sometimes we meet here, sometimes at Abel's under-construction log home on the river; sometimes at Catherine and Roger's beautiful brick art and antique filled home, or Louise's place north of here on the Ottawa river.

We always have a theme. This time, as Abel contemplates a trip to Egypt, it was whether or not we would or should go on vacation to a potentially dangerous spot.

But it's not really about philosophy. That's just an excuse.