This posting will just be to catch everybody up on my activities this week. On Monday my daughter and I had lunch and went to see the movie, "Paris, Je t'aime." I already reviewed it in a previous posting, but it was worth seeing again.
Wednesday I went to a "Summer Madness Picnic," with my Walk-and-Talk Bereavement group. Everybody brought something and we all sat around, chatted, ate, drank a little wine. It was fun although it didn't quite live up to its name. The only possible "madness" was a fuzzy-haired dog being walked that was barking at us. I don't know why.
Saturday my sister and her fiance came downtown to watch the fireworks. It was the Canadian team's turn and they didn't disappoint. The show was loud and colourful. The head of the team was from Winnipeg! His company is called Archangel Fireworks. I remember passing it on Pembina Highway as I was driving home from the reh-fit centre. See, Winnipeg can be known for something other than mosquitoes.
My sister called the next day to tell me that they did not get home until 2 am even though they left my place about 11:00. The lineups at the Skytrain stations were several blocks long. Wow! I'm kind of glad I will be out of town for the other two evenings of fireworks.
On Sunday I hosted my friends, L. and B. for dinner. I made some of my world famous lasagna. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. But it was a hit.
Tomorrow I will be getting ready and packing for a trip to Victoria. My brother-in-law from Oklahoma will be there with his two sons. I hope there aren't any delays at the ferry. There was a bomb hoax a couple of days ago. Passengers were evacuated and delayed for a few hours.
As soon as I return from Victoria, I go to Surrey for the weekend to animal sit for my sister's menagerie. Buster and Dusty are the two dogs. I don't remember the three cats' names, but they are cute.
When I get back we will be going out to dinner to celebrate my daughter's birthday.
Whew! I really am pretty busy. I may not be posting for a week, but I will be back and posting regularly.
Tata...and Take care...and Peace.
We dare not trust our wit for making our house pleasant to our friend, so we buy ice cream. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Monday, July 30, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Bitterosity
This morning I read a great piece http://www.cbc.ca/news/viewpoint/vp_mallick/20070723.html written by Heather Mallick on the CBC news website. The topic fit so well with my last posting that I had to share. Food for thought.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Murphy, Grumbling, Strikers, Gelato
I see by the hit counter on my blog that I have had 948 hits. That's amazing considering I've only been writing it since the middle of April and it's basically being read by family and friends. This week I will probably top 1000! Yahoo! Mountain Dew!
On Wed. I went to visit my sister in Surrey and returned in the early evening. It was raining pretty steadily, but I was nice and dry on the Sky Train. The calm before the proverbial tempest. I got off at Burrard Station and walked a block to Robson. Normally that bus runs about every 5-10 minutes. I stood sheltering from the rain under a store overhang and waited for a Robson bus...and waited...and waited...and waited. I started to worry about the bag I was carrying. Murphy was on the pitcher's mound that day, because I was carrying a foil bag with two containers of gelato in it. I really like the chocolate gelato at the Great Canadian Superstore ( or as my friend, C., calls it the "Stupidstore") so I had taken advantage of my trip to Surrey to replenish my supply of gelato.
My arms were getting tired and my feet ached. Several of my fingers were white from the cold and I was shivering like someone fighting off a fever. I considered walking home. After all, I had walked that far before. But it was raining and I didn't want to ruin my leather shoes. After about 40 minutes I spotted a bus in the distance. Great, I thought, my gelato will still be edible. But Murphy stepped up to the plate once again. And hit a grand slam. The bus sailed on by. It was so full, the driver didn't stop. I said a bad word, a very bad word, a word my daughter would be shocked to hear coming from my mouth. Then, I startled the people on the sidewalk by loudly declaring that if the next bus looked like not stopping, I would throw myself out in front of it! I don't know why some of them moved away from the overhang.
After another 20 minutes of shivering and worrying about the gelato, another bus came along. I was going to complain loudly to the bus driver, but the look on his face said many others had been there before me and I decided discretion was the better part of valour. With the luck I was having that day he probably would have thrown me off the bus. I meekly took a seat and sighed deeply.
In the end, after a half hour on the Sky Train, an hour waiting for the bus and the fifteen minute ride home, by the time I got the gelato home it was like soup and I had to trash it. I could have walked home and back in the time I waited.
People can be such whiners, can't they. (Not me, of course. My complaints are completely justified.) It seems every time I get on a bus, the vitriol starts. Complete strangers assault each other with unsought opinions. The big news this week is the civic strike. The city workers are members of CUPE and they started with work to rule and have now moved to full-blown strike.
I heard some people discussing it on the bus. They all agreed that the $20 an hour being sought by the strikers was way too much. Is $20 an hour too much? Or is it a decent wage? This is a pretty expensive city. I read in the paper that the average person in Vancouver spends 70% of income on shelter. I wondered if someone had offered one of the complainers $20 an hour for a job, would they still think it was too much? People get so incensed when they think someone is getting more than they are, but I venture to guess not one of those people would have turned down such a wage. One man said they should fire all the workers and hire some out-of-work people. He'd be the first one to complain when those untrained people couldn't do the job.
Another man opined that bus rides should be free. What this has to do with the strike issue, I don't know, because the bus drivers are not in the same union. But some people have to take every opportunity to express their opinion. One woman said, if riding the bus were free, taxes would go up. At that point the debate degenerated into stupidity. The free rider said bus rides should be free with no increase in taxes. You're dreaming, buddy. To call him stupid would be an insult to stupid people everywhere.
Hey, bus riders, stop bitching on the bus. Get yourself a blog. Then you can rant to your heart's content. Har dee har.
Last night I went to dinner at my daughter's restaurant. Well, she works there! Some friends were celebrating a birthday. A fine time was had by all. Happy Birthday, Lori!
Bye all. Take care now. I'll keep you posted on the stink from the uncollected garbage!
Oh, wouldn't the world seem dull and flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at? ~W.S. Gilbert
On Wed. I went to visit my sister in Surrey and returned in the early evening. It was raining pretty steadily, but I was nice and dry on the Sky Train. The calm before the proverbial tempest. I got off at Burrard Station and walked a block to Robson. Normally that bus runs about every 5-10 minutes. I stood sheltering from the rain under a store overhang and waited for a Robson bus...and waited...and waited...and waited. I started to worry about the bag I was carrying. Murphy was on the pitcher's mound that day, because I was carrying a foil bag with two containers of gelato in it. I really like the chocolate gelato at the Great Canadian Superstore ( or as my friend, C., calls it the "Stupidstore") so I had taken advantage of my trip to Surrey to replenish my supply of gelato.
My arms were getting tired and my feet ached. Several of my fingers were white from the cold and I was shivering like someone fighting off a fever. I considered walking home. After all, I had walked that far before. But it was raining and I didn't want to ruin my leather shoes. After about 40 minutes I spotted a bus in the distance. Great, I thought, my gelato will still be edible. But Murphy stepped up to the plate once again. And hit a grand slam. The bus sailed on by. It was so full, the driver didn't stop. I said a bad word, a very bad word, a word my daughter would be shocked to hear coming from my mouth. Then, I startled the people on the sidewalk by loudly declaring that if the next bus looked like not stopping, I would throw myself out in front of it! I don't know why some of them moved away from the overhang.
After another 20 minutes of shivering and worrying about the gelato, another bus came along. I was going to complain loudly to the bus driver, but the look on his face said many others had been there before me and I decided discretion was the better part of valour. With the luck I was having that day he probably would have thrown me off the bus. I meekly took a seat and sighed deeply.
In the end, after a half hour on the Sky Train, an hour waiting for the bus and the fifteen minute ride home, by the time I got the gelato home it was like soup and I had to trash it. I could have walked home and back in the time I waited.
People can be such whiners, can't they. (Not me, of course. My complaints are completely justified.) It seems every time I get on a bus, the vitriol starts. Complete strangers assault each other with unsought opinions. The big news this week is the civic strike. The city workers are members of CUPE and they started with work to rule and have now moved to full-blown strike.
I heard some people discussing it on the bus. They all agreed that the $20 an hour being sought by the strikers was way too much. Is $20 an hour too much? Or is it a decent wage? This is a pretty expensive city. I read in the paper that the average person in Vancouver spends 70% of income on shelter. I wondered if someone had offered one of the complainers $20 an hour for a job, would they still think it was too much? People get so incensed when they think someone is getting more than they are, but I venture to guess not one of those people would have turned down such a wage. One man said they should fire all the workers and hire some out-of-work people. He'd be the first one to complain when those untrained people couldn't do the job.
Another man opined that bus rides should be free. What this has to do with the strike issue, I don't know, because the bus drivers are not in the same union. But some people have to take every opportunity to express their opinion. One woman said, if riding the bus were free, taxes would go up. At that point the debate degenerated into stupidity. The free rider said bus rides should be free with no increase in taxes. You're dreaming, buddy. To call him stupid would be an insult to stupid people everywhere.
Hey, bus riders, stop bitching on the bus. Get yourself a blog. Then you can rant to your heart's content. Har dee har.
Last night I went to dinner at my daughter's restaurant. Well, she works there! Some friends were celebrating a birthday. A fine time was had by all. Happy Birthday, Lori!
Bye all. Take care now. I'll keep you posted on the stink from the uncollected garbage!
Oh, wouldn't the world seem dull and flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at? ~W.S. Gilbert
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Coffee Grounds, Tappy, Happy and Casino
I love my coffee. Sometimes I make my own. Often I go to a coffee shop. Since I now have vascular issues, and an irregular heartbeat I should not be drinking coffee. So now I usually order half decaf and half regular coffee. Shhhh. Don't tell my doctor. Of course there are an infinite number of coffee shops here in the city that never sleeps. Probably can't sleep. Drinking too much coffee.
There is the ubiquitous Starbucks. They are everywhere. There is even one corner, Robson at Thurlow, which boasts two Starbucks kitty corner to each other. The tourist buses point them out as a tourist attraction. I have heard various stories about why there are two at the same corner. The two businesses have mated and spawned several urban myths.
I counted six Starbucks on Davie Street, a street that is about 12 -15 blocks long. That's almost one every two blocks! And do they know their business! They know how to keep the customers coming back. Their people are so cheery. Their tables and chairs are inviting. Their tops never leak!
The other day I ordered my usual "tall" (which is really the smallest size) half decaf, half dark. I noticed grounds floating along the top, probably because it was the last cup in the pot. This has happened to me before but until that day I never said anything. I just drank it and picked the grounds out of my teeth. Well, this time the Prairie Crocus decided to speak up. No more Ms. Nice Gal. "There seems to be a lot of grounds in this cup," I stated firmly.
The baristo (is that what you call a male coffee maker?) peered into the coffee, made huge eyes, poured it in a sink and apologized profusely. He requested that I sit down and read my paper while he made a fresh pot. Not only did I get a grande (large) fresh cup, but he also gave me a coupon for another coffee. "I'm so sorry," he said, "That your experience here was less than perfect." Well, la-di-dah. Sounds like a prepared speech. I wonder if they have to recite The Speech back to the manager. Still, it is nice to be treated so well. And when I went back the next day and ordered my usual tall, half-decaf, half-dark, flashing my coupon, the barista said, "Keep the coupon for a special, more expensive order. This one is on me."!!!!!!! It's not hard to figure out why I keep going back. Treating the customer well: what a concept!
I am embarrassed to admit I have never ordered anything at Starbucks except coffee or hot chocolate. It just seems so confusing. Latte, cappucino, mocha frappucino, strawberry machiatto etc, etc, etc...!!!! And they all seem to be full of caramel, chocolate, and mountains of whipped cream. Oh, yeah, that's just what my arteries need.
Some people here don't ever go to Starbucks as a matter of principle. I remember a stand-up comedy routine by Ron James in which he talks about the shiny, scrubbed, cheery, uber-youth of Starbucks. He says it's a reminder of what life might have been like had we lost the war to the Nazis.
The competition includes the franchises of Blenz and Tim Hortons and there is even a locally-owned coffee shop on Denman Street called Delany's. I have sampled the coffee at all these places, and like the coffee at all of them. I used to go to Delany's most often until the day I ordered a decaf. With a sneer, the coffee maker told me, "Delany's doesn't do decaf." I got out of there before he carded me or asked for a note from my mommy saying I'm old enough to drink real coffee.
Friends of mine will only drink coffee certified as fairly traded. I tend to agree with this stance, but I'm just too lazy to ask. There's a brand here called "Saltspring Coffee," which is certified organic and fairly traded. You get to feel smug about two issues for the price of a cup of coffee.
I went to my first tap dance class on Saturday and I'm loving it. Harbour Dance on Granville; I dragged myself up three flights of stairs. Talk about the Grouse Grind! Once I got there I thought I might have to ask for the defibrillator. But the class was fun. Jennifer, the instructor was great.
After class I had a few sore muscles in my calves and my feet, but nothing requiring medication, so I think it's going to be all good. I bought a t-shirt that reads "NO TAPPY, NO HAPPY" on the back and the text on the front is: "Hit the wood!" Okay, for those non-dancers out there, "the wood" refers to the wooden floors on which one does tap dancing. I think. Although it could be interpreted as a double entendre. I think. Oh, Crocus, you are so naive.
This week the Red Hat group, the Hollyberries, are having lunch at the River Rock Casino. Row-di-dow-dow! The Prairie Crocus will be let loose in a casino!!! Stay tuned to see whether Prairie Crocus has to go out panhandling on the street.
Take care...and ta ta...and Peace.
I bought a decaffeinated coffee table, you can't even see a difference. ~Author Unknown
This coffee tastes like mud! Well, it was ground this morning. ~Author Unknown
There is the ubiquitous Starbucks. They are everywhere. There is even one corner, Robson at Thurlow, which boasts two Starbucks kitty corner to each other. The tourist buses point them out as a tourist attraction. I have heard various stories about why there are two at the same corner. The two businesses have mated and spawned several urban myths.
I counted six Starbucks on Davie Street, a street that is about 12 -15 blocks long. That's almost one every two blocks! And do they know their business! They know how to keep the customers coming back. Their people are so cheery. Their tables and chairs are inviting. Their tops never leak!
The other day I ordered my usual "tall" (which is really the smallest size) half decaf, half dark. I noticed grounds floating along the top, probably because it was the last cup in the pot. This has happened to me before but until that day I never said anything. I just drank it and picked the grounds out of my teeth. Well, this time the Prairie Crocus decided to speak up. No more Ms. Nice Gal. "There seems to be a lot of grounds in this cup," I stated firmly.
The baristo (is that what you call a male coffee maker?) peered into the coffee, made huge eyes, poured it in a sink and apologized profusely. He requested that I sit down and read my paper while he made a fresh pot. Not only did I get a grande (large) fresh cup, but he also gave me a coupon for another coffee. "I'm so sorry," he said, "That your experience here was less than perfect." Well, la-di-dah. Sounds like a prepared speech. I wonder if they have to recite The Speech back to the manager. Still, it is nice to be treated so well. And when I went back the next day and ordered my usual tall, half-decaf, half-dark, flashing my coupon, the barista said, "Keep the coupon for a special, more expensive order. This one is on me."!!!!!!! It's not hard to figure out why I keep going back. Treating the customer well: what a concept!
I am embarrassed to admit I have never ordered anything at Starbucks except coffee or hot chocolate. It just seems so confusing. Latte, cappucino, mocha frappucino, strawberry machiatto etc, etc, etc...!!!! And they all seem to be full of caramel, chocolate, and mountains of whipped cream. Oh, yeah, that's just what my arteries need.
Some people here don't ever go to Starbucks as a matter of principle. I remember a stand-up comedy routine by Ron James in which he talks about the shiny, scrubbed, cheery, uber-youth of Starbucks. He says it's a reminder of what life might have been like had we lost the war to the Nazis.
The competition includes the franchises of Blenz and Tim Hortons and there is even a locally-owned coffee shop on Denman Street called Delany's. I have sampled the coffee at all these places, and like the coffee at all of them. I used to go to Delany's most often until the day I ordered a decaf. With a sneer, the coffee maker told me, "Delany's doesn't do decaf." I got out of there before he carded me or asked for a note from my mommy saying I'm old enough to drink real coffee.
Friends of mine will only drink coffee certified as fairly traded. I tend to agree with this stance, but I'm just too lazy to ask. There's a brand here called "Saltspring Coffee," which is certified organic and fairly traded. You get to feel smug about two issues for the price of a cup of coffee.
I went to my first tap dance class on Saturday and I'm loving it. Harbour Dance on Granville; I dragged myself up three flights of stairs. Talk about the Grouse Grind! Once I got there I thought I might have to ask for the defibrillator. But the class was fun. Jennifer, the instructor was great.
After class I had a few sore muscles in my calves and my feet, but nothing requiring medication, so I think it's going to be all good. I bought a t-shirt that reads "NO TAPPY, NO HAPPY" on the back and the text on the front is: "Hit the wood!" Okay, for those non-dancers out there, "the wood" refers to the wooden floors on which one does tap dancing. I think. Although it could be interpreted as a double entendre. I think. Oh, Crocus, you are so naive.
This week the Red Hat group, the Hollyberries, are having lunch at the River Rock Casino. Row-di-dow-dow! The Prairie Crocus will be let loose in a casino!!! Stay tuned to see whether Prairie Crocus has to go out panhandling on the street.
Take care...and ta ta...and Peace.
I bought a decaffeinated coffee table, you can't even see a difference. ~Author Unknown
This coffee tastes like mud! Well, it was ground this morning. ~Author Unknown
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Dance Class and An Amazing Coincidence
When I lived in the small city of Winnipeg, I used to say that I could stand on any street corner for an hour and someone I knew would pass by. But who knew that could happen here in the city where you can see palm trees and snow from the same vantage point. Granted, the snow is at the top of the mountains, but still...The world is full of the most amazing coincidences and I experienced one today.
Those of you who know me will know how much I enjoy my dance classes. I started ballet classes when I was about ten, and throughout my teenage years I took ballet, jazz and tap dancing classes. From about age 15 to about 19 I aspired to be a professional dancer. But it was not to be. I met the love of my life, my husband, Dennis, and not for one second did I ever regret giving up my dream and moving to Winnipeg to be with him. Right about now, most of you are thinking, right, but what does that have to do with amazing coincidence. Be patient, I'm getting there.
Off and on through my adult life I took dance classes. (See picture above from 1977)
I took jazz dance classes right up until my seventh month of pregnancy. So, my darling daughter, I danced you into life. In recent years I have taken hip hop dance classes and I have enjoyed them tremendously. Some of my readers have seen the video of my friend Deborah and I doing our hip hop routine. I am not a great dancer, never have been, but I think I am pretty good for a soon-to-be-sixty-year-old. Dance class was a form of therapy that helped me cope with the grief of losing my love, my husband. Dancing gets the endorphins flowing, those happy hormones of the natural high.
So it won't be a surprise to learn that I signed up for a set of dance classes. Today I put on my dance clothes, packed my tap shoes in my bag and headed off to the West End Community Centre. The woman at the Information Desk informed me that I was the only registrant for the class. Oh, oh, I thought, looks as if the class might be cancelled. Sure enough, when the instructor showed, she said she would not conduct a class for just one dancer.
Disappointed, I began to negotiate for a refund. Behind me I heard a voice say, "Catherine?!" Then I heard a scream as I turned around. There was petite, dark-haired Lena the hip hop instructor from Winnipeg. Words can't express how happy I was to see her. She was such a good teacher and it is due to her understanding of how I learn best that I was able to do as well as I did with hip hop. I knew that she had been planning to move to Vancouver and I often thought how great it would be to meet up with her here, but Vancouver is a big city and I never thought I would run into her just by chance. After hugs and promises to get together for coffee, we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. She recommended a dance school downtown.
If I hadn't signed up for a dance class I wouldn't have been in the Community Centre at that precise time. And if the class hadn't been cancelled, I would have been in the auditorium when she went by and we would have missed each other. What a precise sequence of coincidences!
Take care, everyone. Keep dancing.
Dance till the stars come down from the rafters
Dance, Dance, Dance till you drop.
~W.H. Auden
Sunday, July 8, 2007
1965, Ben Kingsley, Job Hunt
Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I met Dennis. July 9, 1965. It doesn't seem possible that is 42 years ago. It feels like yesterday. Thanks to brother Gary I have video of us in 1965 and 1966. We were unbelieveably young and good-looking, weren't we?
Yesterday I went to a movie with my sister. We went to see "You Kill Me," with Ben Kingsley and Tea Leoni. It's a dark comedy about a hit man with a drinking problem that starts to affect his job, so he goes to AA. Much of the movie was filmed in Winnipeg and one of my friends has a part in it. I recognized the Forks and the train station and other places in Winnipeg, standing in for Buffalo. My friend Lorraine plays a member of AA, Brenda. It was a most entertaining movie. Just the kind of wry humour he loved. It's worth seeing. Congrats to Lorraine. Hope you get lots more work.
I have been out making the rounds of some retail stores on a job hunt. I decided I needed a part time job to keep me busy. One can only do so much working out and walking on the beach. I wouldn't have room for any more furniture so the assembling and painting are finished. Now that I am pretty settled in I have lots of free time. Too much free time, really! Never thought I'd ever say that.
So, I updated my resume, went to my daughter's hair stylist for a new hair cut, donned my Calvin Klein suit and boldly walked into most of the designer stores in Vancouver. I left resumes at Ferragamo's, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Tiffany's, Holt Renfrew. Which might be a mistake. If I do get a job at one of those places, I'll probably want to buy all the things I'm selling. I'll keep you all posted on the job hunt. Wish me luck.
Tata and take care...and PEACE.
Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. ~Samuel Ullman
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
A Stinky Story: Eagles, Kilts and The Decline of Hunters
News flash: there's been a sighting of a rare and wonderful pseudoscotbird in its urban environment. I spotted a six-foot-something man yesterday swaggering down Howe Avenue in its summer plummage: a kilt. Okay, that's not too bad. I'm sure we've all seen pipers or certain soldiers wearing a kilt and a sporran. But no uniform jacket, and no sporran! Scandalous. A slight breeze could have exposed his gaucheries. And call the fashion police. On his very shapely legs he sported black stockings! With seams! Now, I know what most of you are thinking - YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO WEAR ANYTHING UNDER A KILT! Well, at least he was wearing shoes that were a cross between Mary Janes and those funny round-toed shoes they wore in the Renaissance. And he did have on a hat that approximated a scottish tam. Such a colourful bird!
Here's a really stinky story. The BC government is trying to encourage more people to hunt. Hunters are now an endangered species!!!! It seems over the last couple of decades, the number of registered hunters has dropped from six percent of the population to 2 percent. Well, I'll be hornswoggled, what a crisis!
And in order to "meet a provincial goal of generating 20 000 new hunters by 2014" the government is going to allow people to keep any roadkill they decimate!!!!! Jumpin' prairie dogs, I didn't know it, but formerly roadkill was legally the property of the Crown. I'll bet you didn't know that either. I'm sure most of you are just as excited as I am at the prospect of sinking one's teeth into that skunk splattered all over the highway! How in the name of holy hopscotch is that going to encourage hunting? Why would we want to encourage hunting?????
For another "stinky story" see The Prairie Dog Blog Tues. Aug. 16 and Wed. Aug.17 2005
I think they should just issue licenses for the hunting of the rapperplaying cruising adolescent and the foulmouthed pubcrawler. This city is full of them. That's a population that needs keeping down. I'm just saying.
And in other news, bald eagles are now off the endangered list. What is this world coming to when bald eagles are off the endangered list, but the government is worried about declines in the population of hunters? Well, folks, who voted these cretins into office? Don't blame me; I wasn't even a resident of BC at the last election. I feel as if I just channelled the old prairie dog.
Speaking of bald eagles, I guess the population must be up, because I saw two pairs of them this morning as I walked along Kitsilano Beach. One pair was at each end of the beach. Each pair had a humongous nest of very large sticks in a very tall tree. I hope they had a clutch of eggs. The birds were magnificent. I also saw a flicker on my walk. These species, of course, are routinely to be found in Manitoba. I remember fondly seeing bald eagles at Grand Beach, great blue herons on Hecla Island and ruby-throated hummingbirds at White Lake. We did a fair bit of bird spotting in the day. So far the only exotic birds(not seen in Manitoba) I have seen here are of the mammalian variety. Colourful birds indeed.
Summer has finally arrived in our fair city. Today it was about 28 degrees, hot and sunny. I guess that's why so many birds were out and about. My daughter and I went for pedicures in an air-conditioned spa this afternoon and we followed that up with a couple of episodes of "Sex and the City" and a glass of rose wine.
Congrats to Chelsea for her Humanitarian Award. Happy Fourth of July to our American friends. Love to all family and friends.
(Here's a bird quote to remind you of Papa - remember how he used to recite this)
A wonderful bird is the pelican
His bill will hold more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week,
But I'm damned if I see how the helican.
~Dixon Lanier Merritt
Monday, July 2, 2007
Canada Day, Usual Suspects, Weeping and Laughing
Let the bells ring out and the banners fly. Canada is 140 years old. I hope you all had a happy Canada Day, relaxing and spending time with your loved ones. I went down to Canada Place at the harbour here in Vancouver. There were lots of people there, mostly families, watching an "Idol" contest but it felt lonely so I came home and by the time they set off fireworks I was in my apartment baking biscotti. My son-in-law loves biscotti, so I put some in the freezer for him.
As I write, the usual suspects are out in the streets carousing. I have to keep the window open because it's too warm, and with an extra day off this weekend the young and the restless aren't letting it go to waste. The shouting and foul language floats up to my window and is punctuated by cars roaring by, sometimes with the reverberating boom of a car stereo. I hear the occasional police car siren as Vancouver's finest make the streets safe from crime.
Although I have been fairly busy this week, spending time with my sister, going shopping with my daughter and setting up my new TV, I haven't posted anything to my blog lately because I've been a little depressed. I'm thinking my readers have come to expect some amusing tale or other, but I just haven't found much funny this week. Into each life a little rain must fall...
Take care and TATA.....and PEACE
Those who do not know how to weep with their whole heart don't know how to laugh either. ~Golda Meir
As I write, the usual suspects are out in the streets carousing. I have to keep the window open because it's too warm, and with an extra day off this weekend the young and the restless aren't letting it go to waste. The shouting and foul language floats up to my window and is punctuated by cars roaring by, sometimes with the reverberating boom of a car stereo. I hear the occasional police car siren as Vancouver's finest make the streets safe from crime.
Although I have been fairly busy this week, spending time with my sister, going shopping with my daughter and setting up my new TV, I haven't posted anything to my blog lately because I've been a little depressed. I'm thinking my readers have come to expect some amusing tale or other, but I just haven't found much funny this week. Into each life a little rain must fall...
Take care and TATA.....and PEACE
Those who do not know how to weep with their whole heart don't know how to laugh either. ~Golda Meir
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