Tag Archives: Canadian

Snorting Eucalyptus

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The view from where I’m sitting.  Yeah, I know.  Gives a whole new meaning to “still life”  

Yes, snorting eucalyptus IS what I’ve been doing for the past twenty-four days, which WP was kind enough to remind me is also how long it’s been since my last post.  Even W noticed this strange silence in November, the month in which we are supposed to be writing our little hearts out.  I did the polite Canadian thing and kept my comments about the American election more or less to myself, except for sharing a few news stories on Facebook.  That’s been pretty hard.  Are y’all batshit crazy down there??  Well I know you’re not, and have faith that sanity will prevail.  You know, before we all die hating each other.

In the summer I was blaming my stuffed up sinuses and chronic cough on seasonal allergies, but I’m not sure what the heck is going on now.  Rather than complain (and rewire my brain for negativity) (seriously, that’s an actual thing) I tried allergy pills and nasal sprays and decongestants, and elevated my blood pressure in the process.  So I ditched all that stuff, but I still wanted to breathe, so now I’m using my little air purifier even though there’s already an air purifier on our furnace.  Our air is PURE, man.  And I’m shooting a eucalyptus based spray up my nasal passages more than the recommended four times a day.  It does not cause rebound congestion and it works very well, for about twenty minutes.  Then it doesn’t anymore.

My hematologist said my chest was wheezy, and suggested I go back to my GP for an inhaler.  So that’s next.  I’ve had pneumonia.  I don’t want it again.  I keep running out of tissues.  My life is hell.  No of course it isn’t.

Other than wheezy breath I’m healthy enough I guess, because the hematologist said to come back in a year.  Her pre-screener gave me longer than that. I think.  The first thing he said to me was “…so, you’re sixty-seven, you’ve got another ten or twenty years to go.  Because, you know, eighties….” I did not know what the proper response was to that statement but probably because of the blank look on my face he quickly changed the subject and went on to other things.  Weirdo.

And speaking of weird, W said if I had nothing to write about I could always talk about him.  Wow.  He should NOT be encouraging that.

I never had much of a love for Christmas when I was growing up (too much church and  too many crazy relatives) (although the food was good), but when I met W his enthusiasm for the holiday was infectious.  He still absolutely loves Christmas.   He puts up the outdoor lights in mid November.  This year he added two spotlights which sit on the front lawn and flash revolving red and blue lights all over our house.  And the snow. And maybe the sky.  When I’m sitting in the living room they also flash all over the ceiling and the walls.  I told him it’s a good thing neither of us is prone to epileptic seizures and God help our neighbours if they are.  He didn’t find that even remotely funny.

Maybe my eucalyptus spritz is hallucinogenic.  Because he loves the lights.  He found out they are now on sale so I suggested he go get a couple more and the sarcasm was completely lost on him.

I wonder when my brain got rewired for sarcasm.  There’s probably a doctor for that, hey?

In other news, I put shelf liner in my cupboards this week.  Our washing machine (age 22 years) died a noisy death and has been replaced by a newer but amazingly similar model (but this one is water efficient, so there’s that) which cost less than the price of repairing the old one.  W also loves a bargain.

And I love my ordinary little life with a husband who thinks it’s funny that I find him funny.  There’s always something to be thankful for.  Like eucalyptus being a scent that kind of grows on you.  That’s a big one for sure.

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Just Another Great Canadian Sunday

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It’s not every day I take a picture of my shampoo, so you know there’s got to be some kind of weird story behind it, right?

There’s a really good reason for me staying at home while W does most of the shopping. He is able to pick up all the items on a list, no more and no less. I admire that about him. Well, about anyone, really. The lists I take with me become vague guidelines once I enter a store. My cart fills up, and when the cashier wants to know if I found everything I was looking for I just smile and nod. Because explaining that I made six substitutions and changed my mind ten times and probably forgot at least three essentials but now couldn’t be bothered looking for them because I’m exhausted and don’t want to retrace my steps and just would like to be done with shopping and go home…..I don’t think she really wants to hear all that.

Anyway, back to the shampoo. I find it very hard to resist a good deal, even though I also firmly believe you get what you pay for. So I am one of those annoying shoppers with way too much time on my hands who will block an aisle while I check out ingredients and best buys and packaging and brands and on and on so you can see why the process is exhausting. And yes, the shampoo, I’m getting to that, I swear.  Although you can’t see it clearly in my photo, right at the top it says Proudly Canadian and underneath that, Fiers d’être Canadiens which roughly translated means proud to be (a French-speaking) Canadian.

And this bottle of shampoo cost One Canadian Dollar. OMG.

What in the world makes a shampoo uniquely Canadian? Being manufactured in Toronto? And why is it so CHEAP?? Is it complete Canadian/Canadien crap? Is this one of those instances where the store made a crazy deal and is passing the savings along to consumers? If I use this stuff will my hair turn to dandelion fluff and blow away in a high wind? Do I have any Advil at home for this headache? Better pick some up.

Anyway, long story short, although it’s too late for that, I have used this shampoo twice now and am happy to report no disasters so far. My hair is clean and shiny and still attached to my scalp.  If the Daily Basics people would like to pay me for endorsing their product I would be perfectly fine with that.  Although perhaps with that retail price they don’t have much of an advertising budget.

So that was a rather successful impulse purchase, which I believe offsets this next one.

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When W is away I drink Tassimo coffee, because I can’t figure out how to get the other coffee maker to brew half a pot that tastes right, and although the Tassimo coffee is more expensive, it likely all evens out because I’m not dumping half a pot of coffee down the sink every day. By now, if you are still reading this I’m sure you are wondering where all this information is coming from, but, more importantly WHY I’m telling you all this shit in the first place. I wish I knew. Or maybe neither of us cares but there appears to be nothing much else going on for us at the moment, so what the hell.

What I wanted to buy was a double sized Tassimo coffee in a breakfast blend. There was none to be found on the shelves, and this was the only double sized there, and the midnight eclipse thing was very appealing to me. Midnight eclipse for breakfast. Why not? BOLD is not an exaggeration I’m here to tell you. This stuff will knock your socks off. Thank God I never wear any.

Okay, I’m going to paint something now to forget the trauma of shopping. After that coffee I will probably be awake for three days. With great Canadian hair.

Have a scintillating Sunday. If it’s not too late for that.

Time to Rest

Rest in Harvest - William-Adolphe Bouguereau
Rest in Harvest – William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Today is excellent timing for a day of rest.  Yesterday was one of those crazy work days that made me bone tired.  Only two of us working, no time for lunch breaks, lots of appointments, the requisite number of idiots to appease, amazing sales, and at the end of the day all I could think was – so what.  That’s tired.

“Every person needs to take one day away.  A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future.  Jobs, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence.  Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.  Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.”

―     Maya Angelou,     Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now

So today I am officially withdrawing from my cares.  Oh well, who am I kidding?  I do this every day possible even without any cares to withdraw from.

It’s also time for our Canadian Olympic athletes to sit back and relax and bask in how proud we are of them.

gold

Here’s to all the medal winners and all the participants.  Just getting there is also amazing.  Apparently bars in some cities opened this morning at 5:00 a.m.  We’re all crazy.

So I imagine this is how many people will be feeling tonight –

“My head aches, my eyes burn, my arms and legs have given up, and my face in the mirror has a grayish cast.  The bed, across the room, calls in its unmistakable lover’s croon, Come to me, come, only I can make you truly happy, oh, how happy I’ll make you, don’t resist, remember how you moan with pleasure the instant we touch…..

Laura Acosta”
―     Lynne Sharon Schwartz,     Fatigue Artist  

Ha – I love it.  Someone else who is madly in love with a bed.

Have a happy Sunday everyone.

Cin’s Feb Challenge Day 23 – Rest. 

Promises to Keep and Reasons to Weep

Man, sometimes my titles are about a hundred times better than whatever comes next!

Someone told me today that vacations are like a bunch of weekends all strung together.  I’ve been back from my holiday for just under two weeks and already I’m longing for another stretch of strung-together weekends.  But no one wants to hear a person whine about how badly they need another holiday. So I’ll just keep that to myself and enjoy my disconnected weekends like everybody else who has no more travel plans for the summer.

There are a couple of promises I’ve made to myself, meant to improve my attitude and my life.  One is to stop saying the F word on my drive to work.  And also on my drive home from work.  And at all other times of the day or night.  Well, two out of three isn’t so bad.  Anyway, I broke this promise to myself today.  Twice I think. Maybe three times, I don’t know, I can’t keep track of what slips out of my mouth in traffic.  Whatever, tomorrow is another day.

The other promise I’ve made to myself is to avoid like the plague talking about work or anything work related here, simply because I rarely have anything pleasant to say about it.  And nobody wants to listen to whining about that either.  However…. it appears to be a day for promise breaking.guidedog

Our optical office has recently acquired one of these giant dog statues from the Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind charity.  Notice the hole in his head for donations.  This is probably harder to walk off with than a coin box sitting on a counter, plus a lot cuter.

What I have a problem with is the “contest” that’s currently underway to “name our guide dog.” No one asked me for my opinion about this, because they’re all smart enough to know I would think it’s stupid. Which I do.  A big plastic dog doesn’t need a name.  So with no input from me they have made a big poster asking for name suggestions and promising a “prize package” for the winner.  All you have to do is write your dog name, your human name, and your phone number down on a piece of paper and drop it in the draw box.    Would it not make more sense to give out the ballots in exchange for a small donation, rather than for free?  Otherwise doesn’t it all seem just a tad pointless?  And kindergarten -ish?

It appears that no one put any thought into how the winning name is actually going to be chosen, or what the criteria is for submitting a winning entry, or even what the prize package will be.  This lack of planning is what drives me crazy. And then it turns out it’s not a random  draw at all, because now everyone (except me) has been asked to go through the ballots and choose their favourite dog name from the ones submitted, and then the draw will be out of those names only.  How is that fair?  But more importantly, why do I even care?

Well of course even though I think the whole idea is dumb I’m a little miffed that I wasn’t consulted about any of this and thus didn’t get the chance to tell everyone they’re nuts.  And when potential dog namer customers ask me what the prize is I want to tell them I have no F’ing idea.  But I’m not saying that word.

Anyway, tonight, left on my own with the ballots, I decided to go through them and choose one for the bowl of finalists.  Seriously, we have a yellow cereal bowl for the blank ballots.  Professional is a word we don’t appear to understand.  But anyway, that’s beside the point.  The point is I ended up with twelve names that I think deserve consideration.  But they won’t get it, because I like them, and I don’t take this whole thing seriously enough and I’m just making fun of everything.  All true.

Here they are, in random order:

1.  Moneydog

2.  Blindy

3.  Princess Glitter

4.  Seesaw

5.  Barky

6.  Taxicab

7.  Cat

8.  Batdog

9.  Fluffy

10.  Cheezie

11.  Melonhead

12.  Woofy

The ballot I snuck into the pile of finalists was “Seymour” because I think that one might actually have a chance.  But these other dozen?  Priceless.  All deserving of a prize package for originality if nothing else.  Perhaps I’ll suggest that we hang each of these names in turn around the plastic dogs neck at hourly intervals throughout the workday.  See, if anyone would just bother to ask, I do have some really good ideas.

Moody Weather

How much does the weather influence my mood?

Well, first off, this is a great question to ask any Canadian, because we wouldn’t even have moods if it wasn’t for changes in the weather. We would have nothing to talk about and nothing really to do. We are a nation of people who have evolved with the seasons.

We all complain bitterly about winter because it’s cold and white and bleak and makes our cars run funny. (Well except for those insane winter sports enthusiasts who pretend to love the ice and the snow and skiing in the mountains and who go trotting off to hockey games all the time.) (There’s also the ones who go flying off to Mexico for six months every year and no longer care, although once there I’m pretty sure they will complain about the heat instead.)

In the spring we either get far too much rain or not nearly enough. The snow goes away too fast, or it refuses to go fast enough. This puts all farmers and gardeners and lawn enthusiasts into foul humor, one way or the other. The rest of us either pity them or remain thoroughly confused as to why it makes any difference.

In the summer the weather is either unseasonably cool or ridiculously hot. It is too humid or it is too dry. There are too many bugs and there’s not enough sunshine, or there’s way too much sunshine, and all those harmful rays can’t possibly be good for us. Perfect weather would stun us speechless. Most of us are confined to windowless workplaces and temperature controlled buildings and we miss it all anyway.

In the fall it gets much too windy, much too soon, and we get burried in leaves before we’re ready for it. Everyone decides to get everything winterized all at once and we’re all surprised and miffed when the people who do these things are very busy and we have to wait our turn. We live in constant dread of that first snowfall and fret for weeks about whether or not it’s the right time to put the snow tires on.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that about 90% of my time is spent indoors quite happily disconnected from whatever impact the weather would like to have on my life. Of course this doesn’t stop me from being bored and irritated because I’m cooped up inside, or annoyed with whatever is going on out there, even if I haven’t experienced it yet today first hand.

There’s always somebody wandering around from building to building who is happy to drop by and let the people inside know what kind of hell they’re being put through weather-wise. The rest of us adjust our moods accordingly.

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Ancestors

What I know about my family’s ancestry is all on my blog; that was the original reason for writing it. It’s branched out into a lot of strange stuff since then.

In a nutshell:

my maternal grandmother had ancestors from Germany and England

her husband was Irish through and through

paternal grandparents were both of Scottish ancestry.

my husbands mother’s roots are Swedish

his father’s English, Metis, and predominantly French

just for fun and after no one in particular, we gave our daughter a Danish and a French name; our son got Swedish and Scottish.

which makes our children

really and truly

authentically

Canadian.

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Canada: 243,000 km of Coastline! (and other things to love)

Never heard of Canada, eh? Pity. It’s BIG and BEAUTIFUL and FREE. A multicultural, peaceful democracy, often stunned by its own success. (think Winter Olympics, for an example) A land of equal opportunity, diversity, and a strange obsession with regionalism, although hockey can bind us all together. Normally just a quietly magnificent nation. But once in a while we’re LOUD and proud.

THE “I AM CANADIAN” RANT

Hey,

I’m not a lumberjack, or a fur trader,

and I don’t live in an igloo,

or eat blubber

or own a dogsled.

And I don’t know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada,

although I’m certain they’re really, really nice.

I have a prime minister… not a president,

I speak English and French, not American

and I pronounce it About, not A-boot.

I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack,

I believe in peacekeeping, not policing,

diversity not assimilation,

and that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal.

A toque is a hat,

a Chesterfield is a couch,

and it IS pronounced Zed,

not Zee… ZED!!

Canada is the 2nd largest land mass,

the 1st nation of hockey,

and the best part of North America.

My name is Joe…

and…I……AM……CANADIAN!

Thank you.

I’ve often thought we should put that to music and make it our national anthem. It’s also a pretty good beer.

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