When Going Gets Tough, The …uh Well I

When the Going Gets Tough ….I think I’ll

Wait.  That’s right my friends.  I find just waiting it out works most of the time.  None of this ‘the tough get going’.  I suppose when I was younger and had more energy the  ‘get going’ part was easier.  Inspiring and energizing even.  But oh my, now just waiting it out seems smarter.

 

The saying is attributed by some to Joseph Kennedy, legendary father to President John F. Kennedy (1888-1969) and to Knute Rockne who was a football player and a pretty smart man (one of his most famous sayings was, ‘Win this one for the Gipper which was famously used throughout early era movies.)

 

Now the idea is that when difficult situations arise, people of strong character don’t just lie around and complain but get going to solve the problem, which is fine for all you energy sodden folk.

 

I used to take the need to get going rather seriously but with the wisdom that comes with years I have discovered most things either resolve themselves or at least present a clearer easier solution when considered.  Sometimes old-fashioned ‘pondering’, which, is pretty low energy requirement, works much better.  Leaves the mind open to possibilities.

 

Getting going is such an aggressive approach, even more than the mighty oak which is less aggressive but more resistant, and I prefer to act more like the willow tree gently bending in the winds of life.

 

See there I go again making it sound like I know what I’m doing; that in the spice rack of life I am sage (get it? Get it?  Sage/wisdom/smart)

 

Sometimes it is a wait and ponder situation, and sometimes when events are moving quickly and you fear you have lost control, just picture yourself in a tiny round silver saucer sleigh, hanging on firmly to the handles flying down the slippery slope of life, eyes closed, waiting to stop and having faith that you will survive the journey.  No point in worrying after all there is more than one way to win a battle, be the victor, skin a cat,…well you get the idea.

 

 

Hackers, Scams, and I Think I Love You – please send money

Hackers, Scams, and I Think I Love You – please send money
I have read a couple of blogs lately that have dealt with hackers getting into your email and or Facebook to send messages to your contacts saying they are in trouble, usually on a foreign trip and everything has been stolen and are bereft left with nothing and please send money to help them out.
That got me thinking about dating site scams I have encountered but never fell for.  Ah yes, before your brow crinkles in puzzlement and surprise, I rode that train for awhile.  Two or three yeas as I recall because it wasn’t that long ago.  Anyway I had fun and made a couple of life long friends.
The online chats were pretty good and the people for the most part were decent enough.  What I did find is that most people go on line in hopes of actually meeting someone, but then something changes.  They find a smorgasbord too tempting to resist and then end up becoming serial daters always checking out the next one just in case.
But I digress.  One chap, whose picture was nothing short of gorgeous started a chat.  How charming and refined!  Wealthy.  He lived not too far from me but not too close either.  He seemed quite content to get to know me over time.  He travelled brokering gold and diamonds and as a matter of fact happened to be in Ghana right now but was looking forward to meeting on his return.  He would recount his adventures of the day in detail.  This went on for several days and then the tone of his messages changed.  He felt in his heart and soul that we had something special.  This baffled me because I was content but harbored no great feelings for him.
Then one night he messaged that something had gone wrong with his credit card and his company was trying to get it straightened out but could I please send him money.
Well I read this to the girls in the office, more experienced than I who filled me in, as it were.  I had already told him no anyway.
Within twenty-four hours I get another email from an equally handsome chatee I had been corresponding with who guess what!- had exactly the same situation in exactly the same country.  Well what could I do?
I responded immediately to send me his exact map coordinates and I would send my private jet to retrieve him.  Then alas, I had suddenly realized my jet was on loan to our Prime Minister but I had the perfect solution.  I gave him the name of my other poor love, who happened to be in the same city.  Perhaps they could get together and figure a way out.  This particular scam is called the Nigerian/Ghana Emergency Scan.
Sadly I have to report I have met women, needy and wanting to believe someone could love them that fell for this and sent large amounts of money they could not afford.
There is a link below to an excellent site which discusses all kinds of scams.  Wouldn’t hurt to look them over.  Better to ne prepared!

http://www.onlinedatingsafetytips.com/Top10Scams.cfm

Canadian Black Friday

 

Canadian Black Friday


There is no Canadian Black Friday, and really who would want one.  I keep seeing blogs about the horror of it all but obviously there are some dyed-in- the-wool shoppers who actually get a high from the thrill, the challenge, the adventure.

However Canadians do take part – by the bus load, willingly.  Go figure.

If I am going to take part in a large public gathering I want it to be for a blues, jazz, rock, or country band, or.. or…nope cannot think of another thing that would get me out there.

I must say I admire those driven to Black Friday activities but it is admiration from afar. And the further the better.  

So while I sit here all snuggy enjoying yet another fall like winter day I hope everyone gets what they want.  For me, I don’t have a lot, but I cannot think of one thing I need, no matter how cheap or great a deal that would move me from this spot.

Hmmm now I find myself wondering if those brave warriors actually are buying things they need, or is it a contest for bragging rights on who got the best deal?

Mama Kat’s Thanksgiving Post

That Mama Kat

Mama Kat’s Thanksgiving Post

Naturally today being the most important holiday to our American friends all five of this week’s prompts are about Thanksgiving; favourite recipes, traditions, fav memory, poems and who is cooking the turkey.  There are a considerable number of us outside the festivities but this does not exclude us from participating or giving thanks.

Thankfulness is international.  That is, the celebration and appreciation of thanks.  We can all be thankful but of course we do not have to be either. And what we are thankful for depends on age.  When I was a child I was thankful for a new toy perhaps.  I tend to think children were actually more thankful back then, but I could be wrong.

Even though it is popular, not just today to express our thankfulness, I wonder if some of us are really capable of giving sincere thanks or if we just say it.  I have met people so embittered by life they could not see anything to be glad of.  I wonder if in spite of what we have if we are losing our ability to be thankful, if we are just becoming expectant.

I won’t give a list of the things I am grateful for today, I will just give thanks that I am grateful.  It takes heart to be capable of thankfulness and to have heart we must have the ability to feel for others not ourselves.  Thankfulness is not about ourselves, it is about all we are connected to outside of, which then becomes inside of us.

So no thanksgiving here, just a blessing:

MAY ALL TODAY, WHETHER ALONE OR WITH OTHERS, FIND THEIR HEARTS AND MINDS TOUCHED.

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Two Year Olds To Start School

 

Two Years Old?
You know sometimes I feel like a dinosaur.  Not the big purple dancing kind but the bones in the museum having left behind an oil field type.
It could be triggered by prepubescent fashion with excessive exposure of midriffs and upper thighs, or actions by our various Ministries in Government which more and more are resembling those wicked ones out of Harry Potter, or like today by idiots who do studies and then make recommendations that you just know those with power will embrace.
Now the interesting fact about studies is that they are often done to support a decision already made.  The ‘study’ is tailored to give a desired outcome.  That particular fact should not surprise anyone who breathes and understands words.
Last night’s broadcasts and today’s newspapers are giving a peek at what I figure is already a done deal.
Two year olds, our babies, should be in school and away from the control of parents and private care givers of choice.  Put our babies in the hands of the state.  It is assumed that all school staff are better equipped to raise our young
‘uns.
The next step I assume with my dinosaur spidey sense is that newborns will be wrenched from the delivery rooms and raised by the state.
Hmmm that is sounding more and more like the science fiction novels of the past were in fact more prophetic than imaginary.

http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/11/22/children-should-start-school-at-two-years-old-study/

11/22/63 ARGHHHH

11/22/63 ARGHHHHH!

I don’t know if it bothers Tabitha King very much that I spend long nights with her husband, but I do know recovery the next day is getting more difficult, but I get sucked into it every time.  Okay, truth be known I am sure Tabitha knows a lot of women spend nights with her husband – and probably men do too.

Stephen tends to be that way.

Now normally I can handle a few hundred pages within a few hours and scarcely notice my addiction until I am faced with what will probably be a very long night.  This was fine in my previous I can sleep as late as I want life, but now I have a cherished responsibility.  And Stephen, my dear frankly does not give a damn.

Ah Stephen

I had a free afternoon so got into 11/22/63, Stephen King’s new killer novel which I cannot put down.  I am 287 pages into it, and (no Rosalyn there will be no spoilers here) and there are a total of 849 pages!

It is now 12:30 am and I have been having discussions with myself about regaining my sanity and putting the book aside until tomorrow evening.  I have tried berating myself, pulling the mother/child self-scolding approach and thought I had actually succeeded when I shut the light off half an hour ago.  But to no avail.

Since these thoughts keep running around my brain, and I blame Tabitha for not being able to control her husband’s attraction for others, I thought I would feel better if I just did this one post.  Something to clear my mind, put things in perspective (NO Chris, once again you cannot possibly complete another 562 pages by daylight!)

Between you and me – if there was even the teensiest possibility I would give it a go.

Now I feel better, have my urges in control and will not, will not I repeat pick up this book again until tomorrow – er – today at 5:30 pm.  I am an adult.  I can do this.  I can.

It is now 12:50 am and I am gong to bed.  I am.

 

11/22/63 The Book

 

11/22/63 The Book


Today most people are thinking about the approaching Thanksgiving thinking, planning, cooking and getting ready to celebrate with family and friends.  It is my experience that this holiday is primo, better than Christmas, or what ever your major day of the year is.  It’s a day where commercialism has no hold, no gifts except that of appreciation.

Unless you were born prior to 1960 you will not have a memory of the events of 11/22/63.  You know I did not appreciate this fully until a day long ago,when I made a comment about Jack Kennedy and my  sons asked, “Who is Jack Kennedy?”

That got me thinking about perception and the things that shape our world.  Now I don’t mean our world in the broad sense, I mean our personal internal world and all the things or events that help shape who we are, that touch us in some way.

For some of a more current generation it might be 9/11, or the assassination, or….?  For my parents generation who lived through the second world war it may have been an event for that, the Holocaust, the loss of friends, sons, fathers, mothers,…well you get the idea.  For my mother who served in the WRENS in Britain, it was the memory of working in a command center and when a submarine went down off the coast of Britain and while radio contact was maintained there was no way to rescue those men and all she and her people could do was listen to them die.

Stephen King, my greatest inspiration, although I cannot read some of his books, has published 11/22/63 and in that magnificent King way of his has given the events a twist – of course.  What if the assassination could be prevented?

I cannot comment on the story as I have just begun to read it, but it does make me wonder – if we could change the outcomes, would we or even should we?

Our growth as human beings depends on our ability to adapt and learn and move forward.  There comes a time when, I believe, most of reach a point of acceptance, liking who we have become and are comfortable in our own skins even though, by that point our skins seem to hang loosely on out bones.

Fall Feelings of Futility

Fall Feelings of Futility

I had a thought today on the cozy heart warming pleasure there is in taking a fall walk through rustling leaves.

I find the sound of shuffling my feet and kicking up the russet carpet to be a very satisfying one as listening somehow takes me back to childhood. Not to any one particular event mind you, just a feeling of youth.

That gentle comforting thought lasted through the first step into the yard as G2 and I headed out for a little fun bagging leaves. As I gathered piles to scoop up he did just the opposite. I tell you that child got lots of exercise and fresh air and I got a healthy dose of frustration until finally I got into the fun of it by developing a sense of humor and so in our own way we worked away and I found I just needed to work faster than he to make headway.

But there is a question that crosses my mind now and then, generally at this time of year. Why do we even have to pick up leaves? It seems to me that leaves provide a warm blanket, a sort of protective layer between the lawn and snow.  Is that not one of natures natural fertilizer?  That the leaves will rot and provide nutrition to the lawn?

It will be obvious to all of you by now that I am not a gardener of any sort, and I hope my question doesn’t sound too silly, but really doesn’t it make sense?

Thoughts on Reusing the Reusable

Thoughts on Reuse

I was looking at pill bottles the other day.  You know, the little round ones the pharmacists put your medications in.

It wasn’t the bottles themselves that first caught my attention, it was the labels that are stuck on with cement and cannot be removed with heat, water or a force of nature.  It occurred to me that when man is done with life on this planet, when all other plastic finally disintegrates, those little brown bottles with a two inch piece of paper stuck to them will still be floating around.

The worst of it is the private information that cannot be destroyed; your name, your medication, your doctor.  You can shred your mail to keep information private but your life sustaining secrets cannot be destroyed.

So that got me thinking about reusing those little brown bottles.  Why can’t they be reused?  Why do  we have to throw them out after one use?  It strikes me that it is a waste to the millionth degree.

Just stop to think about how many bottles we are talking about.  I have one prescription a month, a minor medication but a necessary one.  So for me that is twelve wasted bottles a year and in the last fifteen years there are 180.  That still may not seem like much to you, but I did an informal survey among my friends and acquaintances and the people that I know get three to eight bottles filled a month.  Never mind the exorbitant cost of the medication itself, just think about the container cost.

Now I bet that if all these wee bottles were recycled and reused we could save money on the over all cost.  And if for some reason these particular bottles cannot be reused then surely there are some bright bunnies out there that could design a reusable bottle.

The fact that I can use a permanent marker to obliterate personal information is of no consequence.  Somebody must be able to explain why the waste, why the clutter?

The Nothing Saturday AND A Spontaneous RAK

I had looked forward to this day for more than one reason.  It was going to be the first day with truly nothing to do.  You know there was lots that could be done but this day was to be a nothing day by choice.

When I awoke sans alarm at 8:30 am I lay for a while trying to get my head around the idea of nothingness.  I knew I would work on my book for a bit and do a little shopping but the when of it all was pretty vague.  I considered a morning in bed just reading having started Linden McIntyre’s ‘The Bishop’s Man’ the night before.

Then while out shopping I came across Stephen King’s 11/22/63 on a book shelf and could not pass it up.  This means I now have 2 books to read.  Decisions, decisions.

Prior to going out shopping I got a call from my sister in law asking if I wanted to get together for coffee tomorrow.  She was tied up today taking her grandchildren to the Christmas Parade in Cambridge.  Well immediately I thought…that’s something G1 and G2 should see, first because it is a night parade which I always think is nicer than day parades and because my brother was in the parade manning The Kitchener Ranger float and one of their grandfathers was also marching.

Well my day now had direction.  A little voice said but this is the nothing day..the nothing day.

‘Stop!’ I commanded, ‘a nothing day is nothing until something comes along, and really what could be better than a parade?’

So, at 3:50 pm we, the boys and I, were on the road.  It takes about 35 minutes to reach Cambridge while the boys tried to figure out exactly where we were going.  I had arranged to meet SIL at the McDonald’s on highway 24, otherwise known as Hespeler Rd.  We got there early and I decided the boys should eat.  Oh Lord, standing in line in a packed restaurant, with a million children and attached parents trying to make sense of orders, and nowhere to sit.  Gotta give the staff credit.   They handled it so well.  In addition outside the resident a huge trailer had been set up giving free hot coffee.  I have to tell you I have become very impressed with McDonalds.  Some people scoff that they are trying for a different market with their lattes and McCafes but I have to say I am impressed. (I have always felt their coffee was far better than Tim Horton’s – for those of you familiar with Timmies.)

Now this is where the RAK comes in.  We took our food to set up on the curb – best seats ever for a parade.  When we took our food, since there was no room in the inn for dining, we got a spot at the curb.  G1 asked how we were going to get our chairs (which were in the trunk of my car a block away).  I said I could not leave two young children in a crowd to get chairs at which point he said, ‘It’s okay Grandma I’ll get them.” And off he went through intimidating crowds, retrieved said goods and returned. There was an older couple who told me they were just out shopping and once they realized there was a parade they decided to stay.  Since the children were on the curb we had extra chairs which I offered to them.  The lady decided to sit and he stood behind her.  As the evening got cooler I took the blanket to wrap around her.  I never did get their names, but it doesn’t matter as they got to see the parade in relative comfort and my boys got an experience they did not expect.

My sister and I have become avid advocators of RAK’s and seek every chance to perform one.

The boys got to spend time with cousins they normally would not have, and I must say there is nothing like a wide eyed blue eyed cousin  2 years older to make G1 reach new heights of valor, sudden vision of sophistication and of course to call to Santa….all in all the best nothing day ever!

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