It is Sunday night, we are about 12 minutes in to the Oscars.
Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are not only not funny, they are offensive.
That is all.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Full Circle
Indulge me for a moment, let's all take a look at a post I wrote in August 2008.
My ex-husband and I have brought Son up as well as we can. I'm sure we have made mistakes, the same way all parents do, but we also know we have imprinted our deepest values on him.
Son and I are currently staying in a hotel. This evening, I sent him down to the vending machine to get himself a Diet Coke. Before he got back to our room, I could hear his footsteps thundering down the hall as he ran back. (Running in hotels is something he knows not to do.)
"Amah," he panted when he arrived, "I put in the money for my Diet Coke but THREE came out. I only took one, I left the other two because I'm honest."
I told him to go back immediately and GET the other two, otherwise his honesty would be wasted by the next person to walk by. When he returned to our room, I called the front desk and explained the situation to the manager: my son had paid for one Coke, he had received three, and he wanted to return the other two to the appropriate department. The manager (who happens to be a good friend of mine, and knows Son's moral character very well) thought this was wonderful, and offered the suggestion that the hotel was so impressed by his honesty that they wanted to give him the other two Cokes as a reward for reporting this.
And I was all, "Dude, but then what the hell am I going to do with three Diet Cokes??" And, really? Why should he get a reward for doing the right thing, the obvious thing?
My child may not have had the benefit of a religious education in his life, but he does know the Cardinal Rule: Don't take anything that isn't yours.
Don't steal, because it's not yours. Don't defame someone's name, because it's not yours. Don't write graffiti on rocks, or carve things on trees, because it's not yours. Don't lie, as anything that happens because of that lie is not yours.
It's really not such a difficult concept.
But I am still filled with such, such pride when Son lives as he has been taught to live.
So, back to 2010. About two weeks ago, I strolled in to the grocery store to get a cart, immediately saw a folded wad of money on the floor, scooped it up without changing my stride, and took it to the Customer Service desk.
"Here, I found this on the floor by the carts."
"Oh, thank you, how much is it?"
Me, literally bewildered, "I don't know."
Her, counting, "Wow, it's $90.00"
"Yes, and I bet the person who lost it will be glad someone found it."
And she looked at me funny.
She said that if no one claimed it, the money would be mine, and asked for my name and phone number, which I provided, all the while hoping a phone call would never come. I mean, c'mon, ninety dollars is a lot of money.
And so here I sit on March 5, I have ignored three separate voice mails from the grocery store, all saying, "Hey, the cash is yours,come get it."
I CAN'T.
That ninety dollars might have been nothing to the person who lost it, but it might have been a lot. And in MY experience, people who aren't worried about money tend to carry debit or credit cards, not bills folded tightly in to a small rectangle.
Could I use an extra $90 that suddenly fell out of the sky and landed in my lap? Damn right I could.
But for me to keep this particular $90 would be a curse.
I do not believe that every day honesty and courtesy should be rewarded. It should be an EXPECTATION we have of each other, and NOTHING MORE.
And so, to ensure I live by my beliefs, tomorrow I will go to the grocery store, and I will claim "my" money, and I will immediately place it in whatever "please give" box they have by the cash register. Money which would be cursed in my life will become a blessing in theirs.
My ex-husband and I have brought Son up as well as we can. I'm sure we have made mistakes, the same way all parents do, but we also know we have imprinted our deepest values on him.
Son and I are currently staying in a hotel. This evening, I sent him down to the vending machine to get himself a Diet Coke. Before he got back to our room, I could hear his footsteps thundering down the hall as he ran back. (Running in hotels is something he knows not to do.)
"Amah," he panted when he arrived, "I put in the money for my Diet Coke but THREE came out. I only took one, I left the other two because I'm honest."
I told him to go back immediately and GET the other two, otherwise his honesty would be wasted by the next person to walk by. When he returned to our room, I called the front desk and explained the situation to the manager: my son had paid for one Coke, he had received three, and he wanted to return the other two to the appropriate department. The manager (who happens to be a good friend of mine, and knows Son's moral character very well) thought this was wonderful, and offered the suggestion that the hotel was so impressed by his honesty that they wanted to give him the other two Cokes as a reward for reporting this.
And I was all, "Dude, but then what the hell am I going to do with three Diet Cokes??" And, really? Why should he get a reward for doing the right thing, the obvious thing?
My child may not have had the benefit of a religious education in his life, but he does know the Cardinal Rule: Don't take anything that isn't yours.
Don't steal, because it's not yours. Don't defame someone's name, because it's not yours. Don't write graffiti on rocks, or carve things on trees, because it's not yours. Don't lie, as anything that happens because of that lie is not yours.
It's really not such a difficult concept.
But I am still filled with such, such pride when Son lives as he has been taught to live.
So, back to 2010. About two weeks ago, I strolled in to the grocery store to get a cart, immediately saw a folded wad of money on the floor, scooped it up without changing my stride, and took it to the Customer Service desk.
"Here, I found this on the floor by the carts."
"Oh, thank you, how much is it?"
Me, literally bewildered, "I don't know."
Her, counting, "Wow, it's $90.00"
"Yes, and I bet the person who lost it will be glad someone found it."
And she looked at me funny.
She said that if no one claimed it, the money would be mine, and asked for my name and phone number, which I provided, all the while hoping a phone call would never come. I mean, c'mon, ninety dollars is a lot of money.
And so here I sit on March 5, I have ignored three separate voice mails from the grocery store, all saying, "Hey, the cash is yours,come get it."
I CAN'T.
That ninety dollars might have been nothing to the person who lost it, but it might have been a lot. And in MY experience, people who aren't worried about money tend to carry debit or credit cards, not bills folded tightly in to a small rectangle.
Could I use an extra $90 that suddenly fell out of the sky and landed in my lap? Damn right I could.
But for me to keep this particular $90 would be a curse.
I do not believe that every day honesty and courtesy should be rewarded. It should be an EXPECTATION we have of each other, and NOTHING MORE.
And so, to ensure I live by my beliefs, tomorrow I will go to the grocery store, and I will claim "my" money, and I will immediately place it in whatever "please give" box they have by the cash register. Money which would be cursed in my life will become a blessing in theirs.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Welcome to Canada
I am watching the opening ceremonies for the Olympics as I type. Typical Canadian, I am self deprecating about both myself and my country, always feeling like I should apologize. "Gee, I'm sorry it's not quite good enough", that kind of thing.
Well, I TAKE IT BACK. Two hours in to it, I am amazed and humbled and brought to tears by these ceremonies. "I" have nothing to apologize for, you are looking at some of the finest talent my country has to offer the world, you are being moved by my First Nations brothers and sisters, you are somehow seeing on your TV screen my deepest patriotism brought to life.
Well done, Canada. Well done.
(But hey, I do still need to mention: if you ever go to a Bryan Adams concert? You can be guaranteed he isn't lip-synching, because he doesn't know HOW. I know this based on his horrifying "performance" tonight. He and Nelly Furtado opened the show, and it was sooo obvious they weren't singing live. My favourite part was when he started "singing", and his microphone was still at his waist. The look of horror on his face when he realized he had totally busted the illusion was priceless.)
And umm, Ashley MacIsaac just performed. Ashley Freaking MacIsaac. ASHLEY MACISAAC.
I need to go now...
EDITED TO NOTE: Jesus Christ, kd lang, people. kd lang.
Well, I TAKE IT BACK. Two hours in to it, I am amazed and humbled and brought to tears by these ceremonies. "I" have nothing to apologize for, you are looking at some of the finest talent my country has to offer the world, you are being moved by my First Nations brothers and sisters, you are somehow seeing on your TV screen my deepest patriotism brought to life.
Well done, Canada. Well done.
(But hey, I do still need to mention: if you ever go to a Bryan Adams concert? You can be guaranteed he isn't lip-synching, because he doesn't know HOW. I know this based on his horrifying "performance" tonight. He and Nelly Furtado opened the show, and it was sooo obvious they weren't singing live. My favourite part was when he started "singing", and his microphone was still at his waist. The look of horror on his face when he realized he had totally busted the illusion was priceless.)
And umm, Ashley MacIsaac just performed. Ashley Freaking MacIsaac. ASHLEY MACISAAC.
I need to go now...
EDITED TO NOTE: Jesus Christ, kd lang, people. kd lang.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Getting back to it
I have to admit, since I got back from Spain three months ago I have been somewhat indifferent to blogging, as evidenced by my sporadic posting.
I really DO want to get back in to it, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Maybe if I just post Inspiration will show up....? Who knows.
I have tentative and very fluid plans to hook up with Gina some time this summer. (I'd link to her blog but it's only open to invited readers....if you would like to read about a modern day homesteader, let me know; I'm pretty sure I can get you "invited".)
I went shopping in the US last weekend. One of the things I brought home was a set of flannel sheets. I have never slept on flannel in my life. And all I can think how is, "WHY NOT???" Holy moly I love tem, they are so warm and scrunchy and delicious.
Time to go make dinner....and I certainly acknowledge this post is lame to the Nth degree...but this is my life right now.
Happy.
Looking forward to meeting Gina.
Hungry for casserole.
Watching CNN.
I really DO want to get back in to it, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Maybe if I just post Inspiration will show up....? Who knows.
I have tentative and very fluid plans to hook up with Gina some time this summer. (I'd link to her blog but it's only open to invited readers....if you would like to read about a modern day homesteader, let me know; I'm pretty sure I can get you "invited".)
I went shopping in the US last weekend. One of the things I brought home was a set of flannel sheets. I have never slept on flannel in my life. And all I can think how is, "WHY NOT???" Holy moly I love tem, they are so warm and scrunchy and delicious.
Time to go make dinner....and I certainly acknowledge this post is lame to the Nth degree...but this is my life right now.
Happy.
Looking forward to meeting Gina.
Hungry for casserole.
Watching CNN.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Boys are such....boys
Two weeks ago, Husbandly One gave up on the snowblower we "acquired" last winter. In case you weren't here:
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Just sing, sing a song
So as mentioned, two weeks ago I joined a choir.
This past Tuesday was my first practice, and I must admit I was scared out of my mind. I am actually a very shy person...the idea of walking in to a group of people who already knew each other, and where I knew NO ONE....well, let's just say it took all of my resolve to walk in to the practice.
The director, Monette, immediately gave me a huge smile, a hug, a binder full of music, and a gentle push over to where the other sopranos were. I found a place to sit at the very end of the very back row, trying to both blend in and disappear.
After a few minutes of warm ups, she passed out a new piece of music to the choir. I could hear apprehensive moans and groans from the women around me, clearly something really difficult was coming my way. Eeeep.
Wir Eilen. A beautiful and technically difficult piece of music, never mind the fact that the words are German and most of the women in the room had never tried to pronounce German in their lives. They were scared, both by the funny looking words and by the score with its unending trills.
I learned this song when I was twelve years old. As Monette clearly remembers.
"Irma, I want you to get right in the middle of the sopranos and sing LOUD, you can help them learn."
Heads swivelled to look at me, the unknown New Girl. It was an awkward feeling, but also quite comfortably vain at the same time. Here, ladies, I'll help you.
And so I moved to the centre, and I sang loudly, and I helped the ladies around me with their pronounciation, and was just generally an overall STAR. I rocked the house.
And after almost an hour of being the star, we moved on to a different piece of music. A piece I did not know in any way, shape, or form. I thought I remembered how to read music, but other than being able to time the silences properly? Apprarently NOT. Oh man, I sucked sooooo hard, and was quickly removed from my position of honour, ha ha. Am mere mortal after all, dammit.
The whole practice was wonderful and confusing and chaotic and holy CRAP I'm out of shape vocally and I didn't really get a friendly vibe out of anybody and so maybe I will never know anyone's name and I will always be the chick at the end of the back row with no friends but I don't care because I had fun and it's a way for me to get out of the house once a week and I think I'm going to really like it.
(Nice run on sentence!)
In other news, I saw Jon Lajoie in concert Thursday, it was AWESOME. Granted, Jon Lajoie's comedy is filthy and sophmoric....but sometimes you just gotta. If you're not familiar, check him out on YouTube. Please remember that I DID warn you that it's filthy.
That's all I've got for tonight... I really must get back to telling you about my Camino soon, seeing how I've been back for two months!
"
This past Tuesday was my first practice, and I must admit I was scared out of my mind. I am actually a very shy person...the idea of walking in to a group of people who already knew each other, and where I knew NO ONE....well, let's just say it took all of my resolve to walk in to the practice.
The director, Monette, immediately gave me a huge smile, a hug, a binder full of music, and a gentle push over to where the other sopranos were. I found a place to sit at the very end of the very back row, trying to both blend in and disappear.
After a few minutes of warm ups, she passed out a new piece of music to the choir. I could hear apprehensive moans and groans from the women around me, clearly something really difficult was coming my way. Eeeep.
Wir Eilen. A beautiful and technically difficult piece of music, never mind the fact that the words are German and most of the women in the room had never tried to pronounce German in their lives. They were scared, both by the funny looking words and by the score with its unending trills.
I learned this song when I was twelve years old. As Monette clearly remembers.
"Irma, I want you to get right in the middle of the sopranos and sing LOUD, you can help them learn."
Heads swivelled to look at me, the unknown New Girl. It was an awkward feeling, but also quite comfortably vain at the same time. Here, ladies, I'll help you.
And so I moved to the centre, and I sang loudly, and I helped the ladies around me with their pronounciation, and was just generally an overall STAR. I rocked the house.
And after almost an hour of being the star, we moved on to a different piece of music. A piece I did not know in any way, shape, or form. I thought I remembered how to read music, but other than being able to time the silences properly? Apprarently NOT. Oh man, I sucked sooooo hard, and was quickly removed from my position of honour, ha ha. Am mere mortal after all, dammit.
The whole practice was wonderful and confusing and chaotic and holy CRAP I'm out of shape vocally and I didn't really get a friendly vibe out of anybody and so maybe I will never know anyone's name and I will always be the chick at the end of the back row with no friends but I don't care because I had fun and it's a way for me to get out of the house once a week and I think I'm going to really like it.
(Nice run on sentence!)
In other news, I saw Jon Lajoie in concert Thursday, it was AWESOME. Granted, Jon Lajoie's comedy is filthy and sophmoric....but sometimes you just gotta. If you're not familiar, check him out on YouTube. Please remember that I DID warn you that it's filthy.
That's all I've got for tonight... I really must get back to telling you about my Camino soon, seeing how I've been back for two months!
"
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Greenest Loser - HELP ME
Things you must know...
1) in the past, our hotel has held our own Biggest Loser competitions, we have held up teams of three to the whole "percentage of weight lost" challenge.
2) this TOTALLY discriminates against people like me joining. For example, if I , as a 5'3" woman who weighs 130 lbs? If I lose 13 lbs, ie, 10% of my body weight, I end up at 117 lbs. And I think we can all agree I should NOT weigh any less than that. EVER.
3) So obviously nobody would ever want me on their team, especially if you have at least one REALLY heavy person on your team who can AFFORD to lose 30% or MORE of their body weight.
4) so, once again? I have no friends.
BUT.
What if, in addition to weight loss, you included a Local Diet Challenge? Say maybe, you would earn one point for every percentage of weight lost, PLUS you could also earn a point (half a point? I'm still working this out in my head...) for every pound of meat or produce you could prove you bought locally?
What I'm thinking is that we could issue our employees some kind of card, that they could take to the local farmers' market. And the vendors could sign off on anything you bought, record the amount of produce purchased. And you could get points for the Food Miles Saved.
Using myself as an example, I can't lose much more than 15 lbs (14% of my body weight) before it KILLS ME. As opposed to some of my more generously endowed colleagues, who could probably lose 100 lbs ( or 30% or more of their weight) and beat the crap out of me, even though the idea of me losing 30% would mean me ending up at 74 lbs. Sorry, that's just not fair.)
But add in the food miles thing? All of sudden, the playing field is equal. YOU can lose 100 lbs eating things that come from California. But If I lost ten lbs eating things that are local? I WIN.
Please please PLEASE point out the good points and the pitfalls in the above. Please, DO, seeing how I am trying to get my head around a program I can suggest to forty four hotels all across Canada.
(And yeah, I may potentially get some official work recognition for this...please help me!!)
1) in the past, our hotel has held our own Biggest Loser competitions, we have held up teams of three to the whole "percentage of weight lost" challenge.
2) this TOTALLY discriminates against people like me joining. For example, if I , as a 5'3" woman who weighs 130 lbs? If I lose 13 lbs, ie, 10% of my body weight, I end up at 117 lbs. And I think we can all agree I should NOT weigh any less than that. EVER.
3) So obviously nobody would ever want me on their team, especially if you have at least one REALLY heavy person on your team who can AFFORD to lose 30% or MORE of their body weight.
4) so, once again? I have no friends.
BUT.
What if, in addition to weight loss, you included a Local Diet Challenge? Say maybe, you would earn one point for every percentage of weight lost, PLUS you could also earn a point (half a point? I'm still working this out in my head...) for every pound of meat or produce you could prove you bought locally?
What I'm thinking is that we could issue our employees some kind of card, that they could take to the local farmers' market. And the vendors could sign off on anything you bought, record the amount of produce purchased. And you could get points for the Food Miles Saved.
Using myself as an example, I can't lose much more than 15 lbs (14% of my body weight) before it KILLS ME. As opposed to some of my more generously endowed colleagues, who could probably lose 100 lbs ( or 30% or more of their weight) and beat the crap out of me, even though the idea of me losing 30% would mean me ending up at 74 lbs. Sorry, that's just not fair.)
But add in the food miles thing? All of sudden, the playing field is equal. YOU can lose 100 lbs eating things that come from California. But If I lost ten lbs eating things that are local? I WIN.
Please please PLEASE point out the good points and the pitfalls in the above. Please, DO, seeing how I am trying to get my head around a program I can suggest to forty four hotels all across Canada.
(And yeah, I may potentially get some official work recognition for this...please help me!!)
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