Late to the Party

Recently, I read an article in the New York Times that in such diverse cities as Paris (50% of households) and Stockholm (over 60%) of the population live ALONE. Solo. By choice. They rambled off numerous other countries one of which surprisingly was China as among the fastest growing population of single people.

WHY?

Because of all the lovely technology we have today, we are able to stay connected and never feel alone or lonely. A person can live alone but still engage with others whenever or however it suits them. The opportunity to pursue various interests is limitless. Personal space, privacy and freedom are closely guarded advantages.

Mostly, I can figure things out for myself but in this new blogging environment, I’ve become more curious. As I mature, I tend to ask questions. When I was young, not so much, because we all know that the young know everything. Some of my most recent questions are:  Can you help me find my car? Where did I leave my keys? Who moved my coffee cup? Where the hell are my glasses?

HOW?

Here’s the rub. Seriously, how do bloggers who have spouses, children and jobs find the time to keep up with their blogging community? How do you manage to read, comment, write, take photos and generally beautify your posts?

I’m asking outright because I’m supposed to be retired. I’m supposed to have all this time on my hands to do whatever I want to do. I love reading everyone’s posts and enjoy picking up marvelous new ideas, thoughts, and frankly reading some darn good writing. However, it’s nearly impossible unless I’m at it every single day, at least a couple of times a day. How do you do that and still find time to do anything else? Read a book for instance? Find the time to go shopping other than a one-stop shopping centre? Find time to sleep? Go for a walk?

Either this can be up for open comments OR I’d be happy to hear from you at:

gettingreal@hotmail.ca

Lost My Place

Damn it’s cold. It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve errands to run. The weather is nasty and it’s starting to snow. I run into Walmart because it’s the closest store with one stop shopping in my neighbourhood. Saves gas, time and energy. I grab a buggy (a big mistake).

In the card department, I pick out a birthday card with infinite care. This is time consuming. Then I rush over to the cosmetics department for some moisture cream and face wash: both Nivea for Mature Skin. I’ll need some soon anyway so I might as well get it now. There’s the book aisle. I’ve read a borrowed copy of Stephen King’s latest novel: 11-22-63, but I want a copy of my own.  I’ll check out what kind of discount is being offered. Forget it; I’ll wait to buy a copy later.

Might as well wander over to the produce department while I’m here. Will there be any blueberries today, I wonder? Oh Great! Three pints for five dollars! Many other times when I’ve come looking for some, there was no hint of any. Then I remember that I‘ll be out of yogurt and milk soon. Look at that. Butter’s on sale today. Good idea to store extra in the freezer at this price. My buggy is starting to look pretty loaded. Better get out of here before I get carried away. I only came in for the birthday card after all so why did I grab a buggy?

While rushing back towards the cash registers, I notice a special on a two-pack of whole chickens for just $12.00. I’d be nuts to pass that up. In the refrigerator unit just around the corner from produce, I notice small plastic containers of baby spinach for only $2.00 each. Must get some for a change up in salad variation. The container says it’s prewashed too. Why don’t  I back track to the cereal aisle? Maybe cereal  of my sort is on sale? I’m only interested in Fibre 1 or Fibre First. Nothing. Can’t get lucky all the time, I suppose. Still, it doesn’t cost to take a gander.

The lineups are horrendous. When aren’t they, though? The shortest line I can find has people doing comparison shopping. They’ve produced other stores’ ads, which Walmart promises to match. I’m ready to dump the buggy and fly out of here. Wait, the lineup by the whatchamacallit is moving along pretty well. Few customers have overloaded buggies there and the mechanical female voice announces, “Proceed to Aisle (such and such) please,” at regular intervals. So I march into line. Fifty-five dollars later, I’m ready to escape but there’s MacDonald’s right in front of me. Heck, doesn’t that sound like a fabulous idea? A nice hot coffee to warm me in the cold? What, no lineup either? Don’t need to think twice.

* * *

WHERE IS MY CAR? Somebody stole it. It’s only a little Nissan, Cherry Bomb Red to be sure, but why would someone do that to me? How could they manage to steal it in broad daylight without my key? Oh dear. Where are my keys? Here they are. Safe! Sweat breaks out on my forehead.

I wonder around, then stop and slowly rotate. Maybe I’m mistaken. Could happen. Not often but sometimes in parking lots. Especially when I park in a different area / aisle I don’t usually frequent.

Oh, there it is! I’m sure that’s not where I parked it before I went into the store. Consternation.

The Impossible Dream zzzzzz

Winter is officially here but hasn’t made much of an appearance yet. Oh, it made another windblown visit last weekend, but like the wolf that tried to blow the little pig’s house down, soon lost steam. This is the time of year I find it hard to get out of bed. Mostly it’s the cold when I throw the covers off. I shiver till I find my slippers and hope they’re where they should be so my feet don’t touch the freezing wooden floor.

It wasn’t cold this morning nor have I been especially tired lately. Neither was I escaping reality because of what today is. I had coffee with a friend later on who said that it’s Valentine’s Day every day at their house. They don’t need a special day to remember.  Neither do I.

No, it was something else. I only read until midnight last night yet slept like the dead. Though I’m supposed to be retired, I set the alarm to get up a little earlier today.  I had things to do and wanted to get an early start. I punched my alarm clock half a dozen times when it howled at me, coming closer to the surface each time. But it took an hour to truly wake up. I felt Dracula’s slumber in his crypt as the sun rose.

I think it was the dream. A particularly disturbing one.

An estimate arrived from a garage I’d never been to. Something to do with the electrical system in my car needing repairs. A diagram was included. It pointed out wiring in the ceiling that had to be replaced (ceiling? hmm). It was confusing but the punch line was the cost was a mere $8000.00. Even at $800.00 the whole idea was a stretch. What kind of larceny was this? The overhead light must have some wiring up there but…

While I was mulling over these sketchy threads of surreal chicanery, enter the boyfriend. Boyfriend? Where did he come from?

“What’s the matter? You look confused,” he said.

I tried to make out his face. Who was this faceless wonder? “I got this estimate…”

“Oh yeah. Last week when I took your car out it was acting up. I asked my buddy to have a look at it.”

That’s when the first alarm went off. I punched the snooze button but already I couldn’t get back to the dream. What a way to start my day. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Truths, Lies and Wishful Thinking (not necessarily in that order)

I had a friend in a similar living arrangement as I’m in: daughter / husband / no children plus MOM living in granny suite downstairs. “Mom” met someone and moved OUT to live with new beau upsetting the status quo of the household. I got to thinking. Hmm. What if I met someone who got my mojo going? I’ve been abstaining virginal for a couple of decades—but, if I met someone now, which way was I likely to swing?

I’m no longer a nubile female. So, I suddenly realized I wasn’t. I freely admit that. OK, I’ll come clean—I’m a little older than that—over forty and then some. Well, maybe just a touch and a little bit.

If I think about it, some of the reasons I like living alone is that I’ve picked up habits over the years I’m not sure I can change. Also, I can get cranky, eat you out of house and home and drink all your fruit of the vine—on some days.

How does a body move in with her kids and then move OUT into a beau’s abode? What about the capital investment? Frankly, would I be the super granny to accept more change? Let’s see how things stack up in the sharing / living together department in my neck of the woods. What are my chances?

1. When it gets cold out (or in), I get phlegmy. It’s not a nice word, I know, but I use it because I don’t know any other that says it like it is. There are times I have to work it out and sound like a sailor who’s choked up his gob of tobacc-y. Not lady-like, but this is my life.
2. Not often, but at sporadic intervals, certain foods don’t agree with me the way they used to. I’m not fit for company. Why make someone else suffer just because I can’t be social? I don’t have a need to die of embarrassment even if I could find it in my heart to share those moments. I don’t want to do share-zees either. Phe-w!
3. I’ve finally gotten in touch with myself and found I’m an OK old gal. Somehow, I’ve become greedy with my time and don’t want anyone to feel left out or ignored just because I have lots of plans that new beau might not be interested in. Well I AM and I’m going for it!
4. I need to read to live. I can’t sit and watch football, baseball, hockey or golf as I’ve never been into sports before. Why would I change now at my ripe old age? It would upset me to hurt anyone’s feelings but on the other hand, I can’t keep changing all the time either. What about ME? If I can’t, he can’t either?
5. I have only one bathroom. We would need to have two if you were to come on board. They would have to be far apart—I like my privacy. Also, I like to read in there so I don’t want anyone knocking on the door to tell me to hurry up. Some things take time. And, I don’t want anyone within shouting distance anyway.
6. My bathroom time is sacred. Since I am not twenty forty plus and a little bit, it takes three times as long to get ready to face the world than ever before. I do not intend to share my secrets with anyone either. These have taken a long time to perfect and they are all mine.  I intend to keep them to myself. Forever. Especially the before part.
7. When I shower, I might not feel like shaving. At my age I mostly need to shave in the summertime. In winter, there doesn’t seem to be a problem. Unwanted hair seems to thrive when there is heat. Still, should I not feel like shaving, it should be my choice, OK?
8. I enjoy the company of other women. Why is that so strange to you? There are more women in my age group than eligible men. I’ve never been in a cat fight over a man in my whole life. Why would I want to start one now? I’d be outnumbered by all those other women, you see, vying for your attention. I’m just not willing to die this young—even in the name of lust or what have you. Do I even remember what that is?

There are lots more assumptions to examine. These are just a few but it’s a start. What a crazy world I live in now. Things aren’t as clear as they once were. I’m still able but am I willing or interested in any MORE changes in my life?

I need to sit down right about now. Maybe I could sip a glass of wine while I’m—you know—thinking about the possibilities. It could happen; I’m not sure I’m ready though!

THE END.

(until next time)

Let Me Count the Ways

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed. This morning was one of them. There’s a certain order to my day usually. I start out by reading our skinny local newspaper. It’s what I’ve been doing for six or seven years with breakfast and the habit is hard to kick. In all that time, I’ve actually missed receiving my paper only once. The other two times, well . . .

I ran up the stairs to the front door. No paper. I looked to the right of the stairs and then to the left. We haven’t any snow so it wasn’t buried. I called out to my daughter to check her bathroom. Nothing. I called the newspaper. It’s all automated now. After I punched in my phone number and then my house number as directed, a mechanical voice informed me that another paper would be out to me later the same day. It arrived in less than half an hour!

I didn’t know what to do with myself while waiting. Having this extra time at the wrong time of day didn’t suit me. It upset my schedule. I couldn’t even eat breakfast without my paper—I was out of sorts.

Why do I mention my daughter and son-in-law?  We’re all in the same house. I live in the granny suite down stairs. Since I have only one daughter this is a win / win situation for both parties. For the most part. As least so far.

My only child, a daughter, was gone from home. I’d hosted ESL students but quit after ten long years. It was a waste of money living in that big house all by myself. The property taxes alone were making me cringe once I’d been retired two years.

I thought it was a good idea if both my daughter and her husband and I sell our houses and buy one for all of us? Bear with me here. This was her inheritance, only earlier than usual. It was also about my golden years. Get the kids used to having me around and when the time came that I needed help, well, I’d be handy and so would they. Right? Sort of.  It’s a good thing I’m patient. I know they are a busy young family but what’s convenient for me is sometimes the opposite for them. Like the newspaper this morning.

After lunch I went upstairs to babysit my four-year-old granddaughter. She took one look at me, ran down the hall and came back with today’s paper in its plastic bag, “You forgot your newspaper,” she scolded.

“Where did you find it?” I asked stunned. (I’d forgotten…?)

“It was in my bathroom,” she informed me dramatically, handing over the paper like the miss-know-it-all  she is.

Sometimes my son-in-law likes to check out the paper before he leaves for work. It seems in his hurry to get out the door, he used the other bathroom (today) and forgot that it’s my paper and that I’d be looking forward to reading it. With breakfast. Same as the last three years. Like the weekly flyers he forgets to save for me instead of trashing when he’s finished. Also weekly.

Luckily the day got better as it went along.

Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?

I LOVE the new features on appliances nowadays, especially my washer, dryer and dishwasher. Where was my head last night? Am I really starting to act like a  OLD broad? I didn’t say I was one. Not yet.

At 8:00 pm, I was just going to start my dishwasher but remembered to set a two-hour delay start because utility costs are cheaper off-peak from 10:00 pm until 7:00 am (my mistake). About two minutes to magic time, I couldn’t figure out why the darn thing hadn’t started. I opened the door. Everything was still dry—and DIRTY. The cycle hadn’t begun. Hmm. I closed it again. Looked at all the buttons and pushed Start again. Nothing. Horrors. An oh-oh moment. What if it’s broken? What already? It’s only been in use half a dozen months since installation. I started to pace. What could be the matter? I mean, really the matter? Dollar signs kept flashing in my head. Panic was setting in. I decided to leave well enough alone. Time for a cool-down. Maybe a glass of wine.

Who is working for whom?

The clock struck ten. A soft mechanical humming made me pause. And turn. I looked at the darn dishwasher in amazement. What just happened here? Then I had an epiphany. Oh damn. I had it set to start at 10:00 pm. and it knew what to do. What had I expected? That the computerized component should read my mind OR just start at the time set? Senior moments. Ugh! I HATE them. I wouldn’t want to compete with a 5th grader. Been there. Done that. Anyway, I hate studying.

To add insult to injury, this whole scenario could have been avoided had I been paying attention to ‘time of use’ energy conservation new hours. We have on-peak, mid-peak and off-peak time choices. Without my noticing, off-peak had been changed from 7:00 pm to 7:00 am. Duh.

My next thrill-seeking venture will be the new elliptical machine I bought recently. I’ve been waiting for a five-year-old to come along—but I don’t know any—to put the darn thing together for me because you KNOW only THEY can understand the instructions.

Them’s Fighting Words

I don’t know if it’s maturity, experience or just plain crankiness. It appears I’ve become a nitpicker!

In the past few years, I’ve been noticing sloppy publishing in our local newspaper, which is skeletal compared to say The New York Times, and in the novels I love to devour as rapidly as I can. No matter how quickly I zip through some of them, I can’t seem to miss glaring typos. I recently read Stephen King’s tome 11/22/63 and except for the overuse of the word obdurate, I found no glaring typos. Do they even edit his books anymore?

I can’t speak about magazines as I rarely read them. Is it just me or are the proof-readers slacking off? Is this another job class that has disappeared from the workplace?

Our local newspaper, for instance, seems to have MORE corrections to sales advertising than I’ve been aware of in recent years. Daily. And it varies. Then there are the news items, some of which are printed from other papers from across the pond. This is a small sample I found on just two separate occasions because they JUMPED out at me. Maybe I noticed them because my glasses were clean.

• …Michael minds the net during a friendly against the…(on the front PAGE!)
• The man later retreated to home on…
• In icons had intended to start shipping the…
• Obama pointed point out that…
• What some say is still is biggest problem…

Probably there is no use making a big deal about it and I’m not sure that I am, but why is this happening more rather than less? Is everyone in such a hurry to publish that the thought is: “Oh well, who’s going to notice anyway?”

I keep noticing and I don’t like it! What are standards for anyway?

Inky Dinky Spider

I thought I was dreaming; perhaps in another dimension…

When’s the last time anyone you know opened up a jar of moisturizer to find a daddy long legs all curled up inside, looking as comfy as a snail in its shell? It happened to ME!

This was a new jar, used less than half a dozen times. Of course I SCREAMED and almost dropped it but being a frugal person, I realized haste would be waste. A good moisturizer that appears to be doing its job cannot be so carelessly tossed away just because some leggy intruder decides to take up residence. The question is: how did it manage to ’squat’ without my noticing? Where did it come from? Had it been there all that time, just buried beneath the surface without my noticing? It moved in at the factory, you say? Not a good enough reason!

I grabbed a Q-Tip, gritted my teeth, scooped the sucker OUT and flung it into the waste basket. Then, I scooped some more and managed to remove a broken off spider appendage (I think). I was even mindful—MINDFUL— not to waste more cream than I had to. And I don’t think I touched it with my finger. Yuck!

You’ll be proud of me because afterwards I just closed my eyes and slapped on that moisturizer before I could change my mind. You bet I wanted to scream but I pretended it all away. How cheap can a person be? All I can say in my defense is I took drastic steps for drastic measures…or something like that. Sometimes, you just have to grin and bear it. I guess I’m a grown up after all.

I used to think that darn children’s song was so cute. Well I don’t anymore!

Friday the 13th

There’s a picturesque little town on the shores of Erie Lake called Port Dover. It’s about a two-hour drive from Toronto, Canada. Best known for its shops, boutiques, hotels and B&Bs, in warm summer weather, throngs of people arrive from the surrounding area and beyond to lie on the beach or swim in the Lake. It’s also a popular destination for both Americans and Canadians with yachts, cabin cruisers and sailboats.

Popular must do visits are to the Erie Beach Hotel known for its Surf n Turf (perch + steak) and famous celery bread. Of long ago fame is the Arbor for its foot-long hotdog, with the freshest and most varied toppings and the absolute best French fries. Sadly, and in my humble opinion, these two eating experiences are a shadow of their former hay days but what do I know?

The most press and copy that Port Dover generates are Friday the 13th bike rallies. This year there will be three Friday the 13^ths: January 13, April 13 and July 13, all 13 weeks apart. That’s a lot of bikers and a ton of money in revenue. That’s a lotta beer too!  

These rallies began with a bunch of friends on November 13, 1981 and have grown to massive proportions since. The beer tents are setup despite the frigid weather and thousands of diehards are expected. It’s a tradition. Once you’ve attended one as a biker (or not), you’d be hard pressed to miss the event and all your biker friends. Don’t get me wrong, the event is open to anyone with or without a hog. In fair weather as many as 30,000+ people decend on this sleepy town.

Are you superstitious? Check these out if you dare:

http://communities.washingtontimes.com/neighborhood/i-see-saw-it/2012/jan/12/friday-13th-first-three-year/

http://www.citytv.com/toronto/citynews/news/local/article/180467–very-superstitious-3-friday-the-13ths-this-year

A Special Announcement

Yay. Many thanks to Kana Tyler, a most talented blogger—check her out—who passed on the ABC award to me January 2nd.  Am I tickled pink or what? I’m a little technically challenged, slower this year than last (who knows why?) and basically caught up with life around me. I know excuses don’t cut it but there you are. I just needed to get that off my chest because it’s a little more puffed out than usual.

Here are seven things you don’t know about me:

1. I LOVE movies, because I love STORIES and love being entertained.
2. I no longer enjoy driving long distances by myself—on the highways.
3. I use the speaker phone on my cordless so I don’t have to hold it (OK, my hearing might be going OR, my phone needs replacing).
4. I’ll read just about anything that isn’t nailed down.
5. I like cats rather than dogs but have nothing against dogs.
6. I don’t mind being housebound some days especially in cold weather.
7. If I don’t read every day, I get cranky

Bloggers I have chosen to share in this award are as follows: I enjoy and look forward to reading them all as will you. Do stop by their blogs.

Deidra Alexander

Sylvia Morice’s Blog

Today I think…

Have Bag, Will Travel

Indulge – Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

notquiteold

Stories of a Mom

***

Thank you  pamelazimmer for my Versatile Blogger award on January 4th. She’s another engaging blogger I enjoy reading. Go there now!

Official Rules of the Award

1. Thank the award-giver(s) and link back to them in your post.
2. Tell your readers seven (7) things about yourself.
3.  Give this award to up to fifteen (15) recently discovered bloggers.
4. Contact those bloggers and let them in on the exciting news.

Seven things you don’t know about me:

1. I like coffee to be hot when I drink it
2. I get exasperated when things don’t go smoothly
3. I like cooking, especially when I’m upset. Dicing and slicing is therapeutic.
4. I hate don’t like housework much
5. I’m all thumbs on my new notebook
6. I don’t have a sweet tooth
7. I like to be organized. Lists are where it’s at for me

The following fabulous bloggers to whom I’d like to pass the award are:

randomreasoning

Diane Henders

Tootlepedal’s Blog

singyourwayouttaboredom

I’d Rather Be In Iceland

earthstonestation

Today I think…

I hope you all enjoy receiving these awards. A great start to a new year!