My Christmas Present

Photo: Have the happiest holiday season ever, eh?


I love the way the universe works. I am hooked on the intricate interconnections it interweaves when it wants to.
It happened again today.
I’ve been hugely busy stocking up on my netwriting so I can take time to be with the WGG, my two sons, thei r wives, in-laws and the whole famdamily. Also singing with my choir in holiday concerts. Also putting my photos on exhibit with the local Artists and Artisans Guild for seasonal shoppers. (Not a ton of room in there to blog, sorry!)
Of the several hundred artworks on display, I had five. This being my first exhibit, I messed up my first attempt and had to reframe them. The very kind folks allowed me leeway and I got them hung. Then waited for the great news of a sale. They were hung Nov. 27. I got the call Dec. 17 that one had sold.
It was a thrill like no other. The caller didn’t even know which one had found a new home. It was several days before I was due to “sit” in the gallery. This is how we artists pay for the display space (along with the commission); we sign up for three hour sessions to welcome viewers to the gallery, answer questions, take money, etc.
When I went in, I could tell right away which photo had sold since that information was listed beside the gallery door. It was a photo of mountain peaks seemingly floating on clouds. I peeked at the receipt and discovered a friend had bought it. Which is very nice, knowing a friend would have my photo hanging in their home. My artistic side, however, finicky as always, speculated on whether the friend bought it because we are friends. It whispered that real proof of talent is when strangers buy your stuff.
I know, I know, stupid to be fussing instead of enjoying the pleasure.
At three more three-hour “sittings,” I got to study both buyers and art. What did people seem to like and how was the art presented? The answer to the first is, “everything:” each person liked something different. The second was more helpful. I was the only one who had used oval mats to frame my pictures. I asked another photographer, and he agreed: “Oval is out.”
As well, the majority of mats were white. I had used colored ones, even double matting some. My mother had done this. Artists do not.
I had hundreds of examples to study, and concluded that square white mats look like...art. Colored oval frames look like...family photos. Thus I used my time in the gallery well.
With one hour left to go on my last shift, a woman walked in during a lull in a busy morning. She headed toward the wall next to my desk. I asked her if she was shopping for Christmas gifts and she said yes, her husband liked “that one.”
And she pointed to my big horn sheep photo. With its colored (but square) mat. I got goosebumps. I pointed out the head of a female sheep just to one side. She said they had not noticed it. I took a deposit and she said she would be back to pay the balance and take it with her.
The universe was already working , but I was too thrilled to notice. Validation from both a friend and a stranger. It didn’t get much better than that. I happily wrapped up my sheep and put it in the back room for pick up. My time ran out, my replacement arrived. I showed her the package, packed up and went next door to the library to get some books for Christmas reading. Grabbed several and was leaving the building when I held the door for a woman loaded down with packages. She smiled and looked familiar. I smiled back and watched her go into the gallery. My patroness! I decided what the heck, stuck my head in the door and asked her to thank her husband for buying my photo. She thanked me for taking it.
The Universe bringing things together like it does, to let me sell my own painting, savor the thrill, meet the buyer and thank her...it does not fail to amaze.
May it do the same for you. And bless us: everyone.
SLI

Do you hear what I hear?

(photo: All of us a week ago united in song)




The temperature was minus 33 on Sunday. I know because I was outside and it felt like it. I have tried to explain to those in San Francisco or other places unfamiliar with the concept of snow or freezing what it is like.
I can't do it very well. Yes, it's like walking into a freezer, but the thing is, the freezer has a door and you can go back to an unfrozen land. Winter in the Great White North has no door unless you are a Snowbird and decamp in October to Arizona. Or you fly off to Kauai for a holiday.
Yes, there are doors here. But the ones that lead outside lead to that endless frozen desert. Minus 30 on a ski hill is even colder, especially sitting on the lift with the windchill in your face. At least schussing downhill your muscles are warm.
I prefer snowshoeing for several reasons: safety, I've been run into by too many clueless snowboarders; cost, tickets and equipment strain the budget(especially when a boarder cuts your day short); and I like not having to stand in line (there aren't any when you shoe). I may try cross country this season, it shares many benefits of shoeing.
Sadly, I don't skate, but I might try that at the indoor rink if I can find someone to go with. They skate on the outdoor rink and have dogsled races and it looks like fun.
That said, once winter slammed the door on the lovely fall we were enjoying right up to November 30, I adjusted my garage-less life to getting into a car that is a frozen block and holding my breath until I can get the windows open to keep it from frosting up inside. Walking with shorter steps so my bare skin doesn't brush against frozen pant legs. Leaving 15 minutes early to bundle in parka, scarf, mitts and toque and dig my car out or scrape the windshield clear.
The joke on Sunday was that it was balmy compared to Edmonton, where the temp was minus 48 and with windchill, it was 57 below. I shivered through six winters there.
What has kept me sane through the deep freeze has been music. My choir of 60 men and women who started rehearsals in September performed three times, twice in concert, and OMG, it was...heavenly. We did it. Rose to the challenge, responded to the audience, sang our hearts out.
And I did it standing next to a Steinway piano.
WOW.
Worth every frosty day.
May your holidays be full of harmony

SLI

SOWing

(cartoon: thanks, Cuz, for sending the jpeg. So much better to see it!)




(photo: Like this snow "possum" I'm having trouble getting excited about winter.)





I admit it, I'm in a funk. The weather is minus 30 plus and I am holed up in my place and do. not. want. to. go. out.
This has been going on for a week. I can do it because I'm a netwriter and work at home.
But it isn't healthy. I need people. The kitties are not enough.
It stops tonight when I go to the tech rehearsal for my choir. Gotta go. The concerts are Friday and Sunday. Have other things to do as well. Life intrudes on my funkiness.
My poor Prezzie sits frozen in the street. Those of you south of the 49th parallel can not imagine the depth of the cold. That said, millions live here, more millions come for the skiing and winter activities, time to stop being a baby, missing California and get cracking (like ice: Ho, ho, sob)
Here is a funny my cousin sent. I appreciate all forms of humor these days, it is getting me through. Like SOWing good cheer. Hear. Hear.
Enjoy please.
SLI

SOW time

(Smile of the Week)



(Photo: Peli can laugh, can U?)




The snow has fallen, the temperatures, too,
now we have winter to slip-slide through.

A thing of beauty when sun sparkles the hills,
I grow weary scraping windshields and braving windchills

To brighten the day I share a warm winter SOW ,
The best route to spring is to frequently howl!


http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=2d3fb517a3&view=att&th=1256a84ca60018e9&attid=0.1.1&disp=attd&zw

(I sincerely hope you can cut and paste the above URL and get the Why email was invented.wmv This is its address, but I can't get the blog to let you just click on it. Mea culpa, or maybe Google or Blogspot - good luck, it's worth it. SLI)

Who Gains from Brain Games?

(Photo: Mazes clear mental hazes for both creators and players.)

I really swallowed the hook with online “brain” games.
Playing on the terror of senility apparently not restricted to seniors, such sites promise to keep mental faculties sharp simply by sitting at a computer playing games that are, they claim, “scientifically based.”
Based on what? Once I got my mind out of the euphoria of keeping it compos with gamesmanship, I started to search for the basis for those claims. I looked for scientists, docs or anyone credible (who wasn’t conflicted by a vested interest in one of the gazillion brain gain sites) whose opinion was that they do anything to stave off senility.
Not that the sites mention dementia. This is Mad Avenue at its slickest. They don’t call the 800-pound gorilla by name. They don’t have to. They just play on the fears of losing our minds. The stakes are enormous: all the current seniors and the tsunami of Boomers set to become official seniors next year.
And all future seniors. Some subscribers, by their own description, are in their 30s.
If it sounds too good to be true...
Some sites are beautifully constructed. They include the credentials of the founders and directors. Some of them have a medical background. More of them have backgrounds dealing with creating similar websites. I’ll repeat that: their expertise is in creating websites that attract subscribers.
Studies show challenging your mind builds new neural pathways (which means you have more brain to lose, it's always good to have plenty of spare synapses.) Activities that train baby braincells include crossword puzzles and learning Chinese, anything that makes you think hard.
Brain games are like a diet pill. The only way to lose weight is eat less and exercise more. The way to keep a brain sharp is to challenge it with new stuff. Doing crossword puzzles and consulting the solution on the tough ones doesn’t count.
One of the sites I tried (and I only scratched the surface of the iceberg on these brain gain sites)is British or Australian. They use different names for things like fish and garden tools. I didn’t do well since I’d never heard of the words.
That is troubling. Were I truly paranoid about dementia, that site could deepen the despair, especially for one who lives alone and doesn’t have friends to tell them they’re OK.
But these folks aren’t in it for our peace of mind. They’re in it for a piece of our fortune.
For a piddling $14.50 a month, you can play them all you wish, get comparisons of how you’re improving, compare your scores with...well, who knows who you’re comparing your scores with. One site advises that your scores are matches with others on the site, not the general public. That changes the dynamic hugely, but it’s a small notice and easily overlooked.
Another suggests playing games that make your eyes move at most 8 inches from the centre to the edge of your computer screen will keep you from having car accidents.
The AARP has games, but with a disclaimer that that is only what they are: games. They do not claim to improve mental acuity or retention.
Bless the Internet: it giveth and it taketh away. Play the games, sign up for the trials, join, if you get a kick out of it. For sure it beats TV. Just don’t buy their comparisons and scales and assessments.
RSVP. If you’ve found games at a certain site to be a head boosting trip, I’d love to know the details. And if you have proof of disinterested studies that show positive results, we would all love to know those.

SLI

The Down Side Slide

(photo: A hug at the right time is a life line)
I got a call yesterday out of the blue from a new friend inviting me to tea.
It was a life line.
Since Monday, when the balmy temperatures of last week dropped to the negatives and kept going, I’d been slipping into a depression. Like an avalanche, once started, the Down Side Slide gathers momentum. Little things go awry and spilling the milk gains import. I know this, but it hasn’t happened for a while. I slipped onto the slide before I knew it.
The handrails are hard to grab, especially when you’re in a new place just making friends and without an office job to get you up in the mornings. In the same way as blowing a small ache up into cancer or arthritis, it’s what depression is really good at. By Tuesday I was convinced I had Alzheimer’s and life as I knew it would just cease to exist--although I would not.
I was researching an article and ran into a site that offers brain games to improve your cognitive powers with a free trial to measure your progress. If you like it, you can keep your brain nimble; for a fee. I tried it. My scores were so low as to be alarming. OMG, did I have it and not know? How would I know? I was convinced my future was to watch the world close in and reduce my joy to the next meal.
The universe sent this dark, jagged, negative energy back. Car pool partners who may have brought fresh air into my gloom cancelled. Bills arrived with no cheques. It took 15 minutes to scrape the ice off my car so I could see to drive. The open road became a black tunnel.
Then the phone rang. My friend explained she’d arranged to have a mutual friend over and my name just popped into her head. She always listens to her inner voice.
That’s the same voice that tells me to take an umbrella when I leave the house on a sunny morning—and means I will come home soaked 12 hours later if I ignore it. Of course it’s connected to others, I just didn’t think about that. There have been times in my life when the depression was so strong I retreated instead of grabbing the life line. Thanks to a very special therapist, lots of help from friends and soul-searching, I am thrilled to say I welcome help. I can’t do it alone. And I have friends.
Today, the temps are still below freezing, but I hopped on the treadmill, got the blood pumping, speculated that the website could, perhaps, adjust the results to make folks on the trial score very low to, maybe, encourage (or scare) them into signing up. I have my list of Things I Must Do, which includes a Thank You to my two friends.
Depression can hit at any age, but I think the older we get the more susceptible we are. Threre are a whole bunch of very real scary things that might happen to us, the very biggest being we will die. The trick is to keep living—and enjoying life—until that happens.
One good way is to help others stay off the slide.
Cheers
SLI

WOW

Photo: Happy Holidays!




WordsOfWisdom




Some Grates sent me some WOWs: stuff that hits home in a good way. Thought I would share the joy today. One's mine, the others are off the Net. If you have some, please share here!




The secret to happiness is a good sense of humor and a bad memory.




Old age is mostly mind over bladder. (SLI)



More wag
less bark

Mono-polize

The mono drags on. Guess that’s part of the When I’m 64 deal. Live this long and you don’t shake things off like you used to. But at least it’s mono and not the dreaded Old Age.
It took a couple of months to get my energy back after the doc checked the blood test last spring. If I’d been tired of being tired before, I really got sick of it then. Every time I felt a burst of energy and ran out the door to enjoy it, I had a setback.
But I got over it. Then the season for building up the excitement for a Santa arrival arrived. Hours spent twisting balloons or maintaining a line up waiting to see Mr. C are fun and profitable. I used to do three Santa arrivals a day. I could keep a line of folks waiting for photos with Santa entertained for hours and get pleasantly tired. This year I found could barely keep the giggles and hugs coming after four hours. I blamed it on not eating and no breaks. I find it hard to stop and stuff my face in the face of a line-up of folks and kidlets who have been waiting 40 minutes to see me.
When I get fatigued, my fingers get stupid and balloons break or my paints smear. The kidlets and I were having less fun.
I feared I was Getting Old. I did a Santa arrival/loons gig yesterday, got home and crashed in front of the boobtube. For the night. Didn’t call the granddaughter to say aloha (she’s taking her folks to Hawaii for two weeks). Closest I got was to look at the clock and see I still had time, if I could get myself out of the chair.
I couldn’t. Fortunately, being Saturday night, there were some great movies I had not seen. Unfortunately, the WGG didn’t get a bon voyage call from GrannnyT.
Fortunately, the collapse felt familiar. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until today that I recognized it.
Mono. I was deflated like my balloons, absolutely limp. BTDT. The disease that keeps college kids out of school up to a year was not gone, I’d just forgotten I had it.
Unfortunately, mono may monopolize my energy reserves for another 6 months. Fortunately, it won’t last forever.
Woo Hoo!

The WGG and Me

Publish Post

Photo: Watching the WGG grow

The WGG (World's Greatest Granddaughter)and I had a movie night Saturday while her parents had laugh date with a comedian.
She is such a weed, way over the top in height for her age. It throws me off when I twist balloons for kids, I keep expecting them to be two -and -five-sixths when they are four or even five. I wonder how the world looks to someone who is that much taller than her peers? As in gymnastics class or her BFF next door, who is a year older and a couple inches shorter.
She is so serious, watching the world calmly from bottomless (and gorgeous) brown eyes, yet can burst into dance or a huge grin or giggles in an instant. She must finish one thing before starting the next. This is unteachable (totally genetic from her dad and his dad) and as her daddy says, it is best to just wait until she’s ready because not allowing her time to dot her i’s will come back to haunt you.
She has a relish for life, a healthy curiosity, is not afraid to try anything new and watches me—no, not like a hawk, not as if her life depends on it, but she misses very little, and I am often startled to hear my exact words come out of her mouth. I forget I am teaching her everything she has not done before.
Oh sure, the big things like the climbing wall at the park, I know about teaching her that (and have the pictures to preserve it) but she copies tons of little things I don’t think about. I didn’t know I go “um hum” when I finish something—until I heard her do it.
Actually, she is teaching me about me about as much as I am teaching her.
I love to see her smile and hear her giggle, which is why we go to the park where the swings are. Swings were my favorite thing well into grade school. I pumped as high as I could and dreamed of doing a 360. Whenever monsters loomed in the night, I got myself to sleep with the sensation of swinging back and forth, back and forth.
She is friendly but can play alone happily as well. Smart as a whip, she’s at the stage of saying things like “The sky is not yellow. The fog has lifted.”
Heck, I don’t say things like that now!
She has tons of gorgeous chestnut hair that is curly and the bane of her mom because it doesn’t tame well. Hard even to get a comb through. It’s been thinned and layered and pony- and pig-tailed. It has natural bangs. I always wanted bangs but my hair isn’t suited for them. Doesn’t grow forward and isn’t thick enough to not be flyaway. I hope the WGG loves her hair. It’s popular to bemoan being “too” tall or having “too much” hair, but I sense she is grounded enough to just be...her.
It took me decades to get to that point. I am thrilled she’s way ahead of me. It’s going to be fascinating, this journey we’re on together. Can’t wait for the next chapter, which, right now, is every time I see her. They are going to Hawaii for two weeks just before Christmas. Just before her third birthday. She will have changed.
Bet on it.
I can’t wait to see how.
SLI

Busy vs Bored

(photo: Cheeky racing to stock up nuts for the winter)

I knew a woman once who complained of boredom. She was beautiful, had two children, a house I adored, a husband and, I believe, a dog or two.
I did not then, nor do I now, understand how she could possibly be bored. OMG, I rarely have time to do everything I want and need to do and seem always to have conflicts when one night of the 30 or so in that month will be multiple choice for where I go or what I do.
That said, I see it’s been a while since my last post. Work, committees (love ‘em and hate ‘em) getting my stuff ready for the Holiday art exhibit, twisting balloons at the Christmas Fair and, two nights ago, a call from my son for a babysitter for the WGG tonight.
I love my blog and feel a connection to those who read my ramblings, but the WGG comes first—always.
The lady I mentioned died quite young from cancer. If being bored has any connection, and I suspect our minds have quite a lot to do with that scourge—I don’t have to worry about it.
Cheers
SLI

Laughtermanship

I just watched a clip from the old Carol Burnett Show sent to me by my sister. It’s the one with Tim Conway as the dentist and I’m still wiping tears from my cheeks. Harvey Korman couldn’t stop laughing, either, and he was in it.
Here’s the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9T8i4FkNVo

This is the light side of the Internet. SOS personified. Someone had to find the clip, save it and start sending it on so I could start my day with a guffaw and a tissue.
Thank goodness I'm old enough to call those the good old days of television and not care what it sounds like to the kids. IMHO they should be envious of having creative, clever, insanely funny (and untargeted, unpolitical and unscrofulous) entertainment to laugh at. Different times, yes.
Better? Blinder? Binding? I feel lucky to have had both. What do you think?
I’m just supremely pleased to start my day on a high positive charge.
Which got me thinking about kinds of laughter. Audiences are influenced by the loudest member. Actors in a comedy approach the first joke never knowing if there will be a laugh (and prepared for them in unexpected places). If there is even a titter, you’re home free. It gives permission for others to make noise. If you can hear a pin drop, you’ve got your work cut out to get them to start laughing.
But I know people who can hear a joke, keep a deadpan face and say they loved it. Others laugh so hard they bend over double and cry .
Who’s to say one gets a bigger kick than the other? (Actors, who universally agree a laughing audience generates more laughter).
Some days no emails are funny. Other days I get caught unawares and burst out in a belly laugh. Or in tears, as with the terminally crazy Conway.
Lately I’ve taken to showing I am a friendly, harmless, good natured person by adding a Hee Hee to statements that might be taken as too direct. As in, “I was just running out the door, I promise to read/mail/send it, OK? Hee hee” when someone is eating up my phone minutes. They respond well to it.
There are all kinds of laughtermanship (OK, laughterfolkship).
And that’s a good thing.
Thanks, Sis!
SLI

SLI's First SOW

You don't stop laughing because you grow old,
You grow old because you stop laughing!!!


I dearly love the way this happens, but no sooner had I posted the very first SOS blog than I got an email from a friend I seldom hear from that made me, as the NetGeners say, LOL. I so wanted to share it that I thought: I'll put it on the Blog!
Then thought again. It's not a website, it's a piggybacker. Exactly what I started SOS for, those forwarded smiles meant to float around the Net spreading cheer and blown by the good wishes of good friends, not a website you can go to or link to.
So: since these are not copyrighted, and I couldn't post a link, I've decided to include a Smile of the Week on the Blog. If I don't get enough, I may have to make it the Bi-Weekly Smile (BWS) but I'm going for SOW for now.
That said, here's the first. You don't have to pass it on to anyone. You don't even have to laugh. A smile will do.
Even a small one.
Enjoy (and my thanks to Geoff!)
SLI

Tips For 2010




1. Stay out of trouble.





2. Aim for greater heights.




3. Stay focused on your job.




4. Exercise to maintain good health..




5. Practice team work.




6. Rely on your trusted partner to watch your back.
Take your time trusting others.




7. Save for rainy days.





8. Rest and relax.





9. Always take time to smile.





AND



10. Realize that nothing is impossible.




This should make you smile:





SERENITY


Just before the funeral services,
the undertaker came up to the very elderly widow and asked,
'How old was your husband?'
'98,' she replied, 'Two years older than me'
'So you're 96,' the undertaker commented.
She responded , 'Hardly worth going home, is it?


Reporter interviewing a 104-year-old woman:
'And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?' the reporter asked.
She simply replied, 'No peer pressure.'

The nice thing about being senile is You can hide your own Easter eggs.

I've sure gotten old! I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement,
New knees, fought prostate cancer and diabetes.
I'm half blind,
Can't hear anything quieter than a jet engine,
Take 40 different medications that
Make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts.
Have bouts with dementia ..
Have poor circulation;
Hardly feel my hands and feet anymore.
Can't remember if I'm 89 or 98.
Have lost all my friends. But, thank God,

I still have my driver's license.



I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape,
So I got my doctor's permission to
Join a fitness club and start exercising.
I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors.
I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour..
But, by the time I got my leotards on, The class was over.


My memory's not as sharp as it used to be.
Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.


Know how to prevent sagging? Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.


It's scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.



These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says,
"For fast relief"




THE SENILITY PRAYER :
Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway,
The good fortune to run into the ones I do,
and the eyesight to tell the difference..

Announcing SOS: The Society of Smilers

(Photo: Look before ewe leap!)


Ladies and Gents of all URLs and persuasions, I take enormous pleasure in announcing the formation of the Society of Smilers (SOS), hereinafter known as Grates, a grinning group of goodhearted folk who are the polar opposite of the Sect of Grouches (SOG), to be known as Ingrates.
Let it be known now and foreverafter that the Grates, of whom I am a proud member, are indeed thankful to those unknown, unsung and ungrouchy folks who conceive, create and disburse—without pay or personal gain, purely for the pleasure of people they will never meet, never see and never collect a thank you from—such materials whose sole purpose is to produce a grin via the anonymous vehicle of that mysterious megalithic connector-of-all: the Internet.
SOS salutes these faceless jokesters, caption writers, toilers-in-the-night who put together screensful of mirth, hilarious mayhem and madness merely to share...a smile.
As it is impossible to thank them in person, not knowing who they are being the first, but not only, obstacle to that task, we Grates salute them as a group.
They are the Creators of Laughter, and those who pass their attachments along are their Cohorts.
We salute both because a smile unshared is a sinful waste. And that’s what these humorous creations are: virtual smiles.
Far from frowning when we see an email from an efriend known to pass along such friendly stuff, we Grates pounce on it, a grin already breaking out on our solemn faces.
SOS honors the Creators, those who spend their time, their lives and their skills to collect and create infectious humor from jokes, quips, cartoons, photographs, printed passages, bloopers, practical jokes and other such smile-making materials. We honor them, wish them a hearty Hear! Hear! and Long Life! and hope, selfishly, that they live long and prosper so they can continue to produce Smiles for the rest of us.
Be it Known that SOS knows and is sympathetic to, those folks who do not want to smile. They belong to the informal and as-yet unformed Society of Grouches (SOG), known as Ingrates. That they are unable to appreciate the innocent joy of a shared smile or allow themselves to lift their hearts with the pleasure of a perfect punny story is difficult to understand but most certainly honored as their choice of bedding. With no rancor or ill feeling at all, we Grates salute the Ingrates and wish them well.
Also Let It Be Known that SOS is to honor those who make and forward funny and entertaining facts and figures. It does not openly condemn forwards so aptly labeled by the Beatitudinous Barbara of Snopes.com fame as Glurge: those warning of horrendous calamity if not forwarded to everyone you know in ten nanoseconds, of computer viri that will emerge from your hard drive, send your personal info to evildoers who will then own you and then eat your computer, that promise to save dying children or hand out free computers if you send them to every eaddress you have, tearjerkers, moral lessons and impossibly syrupy coincidences. SOS does not include Glurge makers on their Grateful list. Let them make their own, with sparkles.
The sole duty of a Grate is to weed. Assiduously. Ruthlessly. To forward only the finest mirth-producing, belly laughing guffaws. We pledge to pass on only giggles and groans.
We the undersigned are proud members of the Royal, Exalted, Grand and Glorious Order of the Society of Smilers, and proud to be known as Grates. We will aid and abet the Creators by circulating around the Net, the Globe, and the Human Race, those anonymous, amazing Smiles solely for the purpose of lifting the lips, the spirits and the soul, if only for an instant, of whomsoever sees them.

Amen and That’s All She Wrote

Sliding on the Ice

The WGG and Me

I feel like a leaf that's been lifted up by a breeze. Kind of floaty and light, happy and bright...OK, OK, corny...but it's true.
The light of my life, the reason I deserted San Francisco for the frozen north, my WGG (World's Greatest Granddaughter), had a sleepover on Tuesday.
We had a blast. I'm still getting used to the fact that you can't sit your grandchild in the passenger seat and look at all the interesting stuff going by together.
Nope, she's strapped in the back, in the dark and I can't tell what she can and can't see. Nor can she see my hand pointing out a star or the moon or beautiful lights or a bird or whatever.
I liked it better before when the boys were beside me.
This is safer. And the law. I know. And it didn't keep us from laughing and singing and yakking all the way to the mountains where I live.
A year ago when we did the trip with her folks, she giggled the whole way. She was a year and a half.
Now she's two and a half.
OMG, it has been quite a year. I remember leaving her one day and the next time I saw her she was speaking in complete sentences. Overnight, practically. She grows a foot (OK, another exaggeration, but not much!)every time I see her, is always in new clothes and cleans up very nicely, thank you.
She has gorgeous curly chestnut hair, a ton of it, has had it at birth like her daddy.
And is determined like her daddy. She must have things The Way They Should Be. As in putting on her boots. They must be firmly on her feet, with pant legs pulled down neatly over the tops, before she will leave. Her daddy tells me it's easier to give her the time to Get It Right than to hurry her...and I believe him, having been his mother.
Every visit I am reminded that she is still firmly in the What's New stage. That when I do or say something she hears or sees for the first time, I am setting a precedent. I know because I hear her parroting my words or actions back--and it's scary! I could have done that better, I tell myself, but I find I can't watch myself all the time. Oh dear.
She loves the park, the kitties, the books, throwing rocks into the river and exploring GrammaT's (that's me!) place and town. I love watching her.
We were up way late reading, ending with Don't Wake Up the Bear, The Paper Bag Princess and 10 Tiny Tickles.
It was swell.
We slept in the same bed.
It was swell.
I woke her up with 10 tiny tickles. She laughed.
It was Swell.
I'm still flying on the high.

Birth Announcements

I feel like a kid with a new toy--a satisfyingly complicated one that takes time to figure out and challenges my ingenuity. Blogs are supposed to be easy these days, heaven knows there are a gazillion of them, but there are tweaks and twists and furbelows and frills that can keep me occupied for hours (or days). I am a little slow, but I get there (like my tortoise friend here).
I got around to adding a visitor counter a couple of days ago. Before that, the only way I could tell someone had visited was if they left a post, a comment or became a follower.
I was a little shy about announcing the baby’s delivery until I was happy with how it looked, so not many friends knew about it. I’ve now learned how to post, upload photos and even bold and italicize, so have been telling folks about it.
John emailed back that he LOVED it, but couldn’t figure out how to become a follower. So I opened it up and played around and emailed him back my best guess. I asked him to leave a message next time, since no one had done that yet.
He emailed back that he had commented, so I whipped back to the blog, where it took me ten minutes to find the tiny (1) on my very first post, clicked on it and found a message—from someone called Apple who very nicely said I am a good writer and should continue.
My friend’s comment was via email, but I was looking for a comment on the blog site. Had this not happened, I may never have seen Apple’s comment. I love how things work out like that.
Now I see little ( )s all over, some with numbers in them. Turns out folks have been commenting all along, I just didn’t know where to look. Still have to figure out how to get the comments to show up on the blog.
But this is a complex toy that takes time. Goodie, or as the kids say: Bonus.
SLI

Cat Knack

It’s Sunday and partly sunny. I caught some rays in the yard when Cowboy demanded to be taken out. He’s getting old and doesn’t go on long walks anymore, but he likes to sniff around, see if the dog upstairs has been around lately, check on Cheeky the squirrel who spends his/her days moving pinecones to the pile the kids upstairs made.
It was chilly, so while C'boy sniffed, I took photos of bright red rose hips and snowflakes resting lightly on leaves from the morning dusting. He and Miss Kitty got their Sunday treat already; sat like regal statues looking at the cabinet where I keep the cans until I got the message and opened it. Wish I could fill my plate just by staring at it, but I lack the cat knack.
It’s Sunday, and not much is happening. Kind of the calm before the storm with a busy week/month ahead.
It’s Sunday so I cooked—a rare enough activity around here—eggs over easy, peppers, garlic, sausage, toast with raw honey and OJ.
It’s Sunday and a lovely day to rest.

Watch your P(eriod)s and Qs

I’m writing this listening to a lively piano concerto while I wait for a Canada Pension (CPP) agent to answer my call.
I’ve been here before. The first time, I tried to change my name from the married one CPP has to the maiden one I reclaimed. The government site didn’t like my browser and I gave up. Months later, I tried to apply for (early) CPP, but couldn’t get past the registration page. There was a notice I didn’t understand and an advisory to use Internet Explorer, not Firefox. I love my Firefox so I put it on the To Do pile.
Months later, I found a hard copy CPP application, filled it out and mailed it in. Months later I got a letter with a temporary access code telling me how to register online. I tried again today, got to the same place in the registration procedure where it wouldn’t accept my nonalphanumerical number. As before, I looked at what I’d typed and it all looked normal to me.
So I phoned. Which brings us to the music. To cut short the 24 minutes I spent on the cell and go right to the hint which could prevent others from the same frustrating glitch, I found out from a patient geek squader that the nonalphanumeric character that has frustrated my best efforts all this time was the period I put after the word Mrs. in one of my question hints. Who knew a period is not a character in the English language. * sigh *
I also found out from a nice man that my hard copy application had worked months ago and I would receive my first payment this month.
I am officially a presenior. Yahoo.

The right wrong number...

KUDOS TO VOLKSWAGEN: A tribute to the power of fun - Go VW! The link is below. Enjoy!

http://www.autoblog.com/2009/10/08/video-volkswagen-wants-you-to-have-fun-taking-the-stairs/#continued

OMG. Less than 24 hours and I have a “follower.” I am so excited. Welcome, you made my day!
That was yesterday. Today, what made my day was a wrong number. I was calling my walking buddy to confirm our starting time. And using my cell phone without my glasses, which should be illegal. I called the contact below the one I wanted and a croaky voice answered. I was instantly concerned, was she ill? I confirmed it wasn’t her, mumbled apologies and was about to hang up when the croak said my name.
It was my best buddy, my adopted Sister, my conscience and soulmate. My fragile friend who has been absolutely stalwart in her fight against the MS that wins some battles, but has not yet come close to winning the war. Carmen, my Carmen, was up at her kitchen table crocheting winter hats. She’d been up since 5 to take a pain pill, so I had not disturbed her, and she had wonderful news: her husband had gone to bat for her and gotten her an appointment to see a hip specialist 18 months earlier than the appointment she had. She will see him in December—this December—not in 2011. Before she let me go, she advised me to savor every step of my walk.
And I did.
I have some other friends like Carmen. Brave souls facing daily pain and an unknown, but certainly bleak, future who refuse to become bitter, who focus on each moment, who do not think they are brave, merely living their lives as best they can. Carmen’s hats are for refugees immigrating to a cold climate. It takes her mind off the pain at 5 in the morning.
I am so lucky to have friends who remind me of what’s important...and keep me humble. You go, girl. Warm hugs.

Pensions: The Driving Question: Wait or Go for It?

Like near beer, being a near senior doesn't have the rewarding kick of pension, health care, etc. I suspect that's because 65 isn't what it used to be.
Neither is 64.
Although I don't know any, some folks retired at 55, lured by those idyllic insurance company ads that shoved the age of old age back a decade. I don't know how they fared, but I expect to work til I drop, or droop or drool, whichever comes first.
Others applied for Social Security/Canada Pension as soon as they could, taking a hit in the monthly amount but enjoying a steady income they couldn't get laid off from. I dithered. And worked. And opted for the full amount at 65/6 rather than less now. Then my 13-year-old car got rear suspension jitters, which meant that she slid into passing traffic on snow, which meant I drove white knuckled and heart-in-mouth for a month before I let Carmine go. Which means I traded security for a car payment.
So I applied for my pension. Haven’t gotten it yet. Don’t know what it will be.

But I know where it will go.

Best intentions...

I started today with sunshine and the goal of starting this blog.
It is now dinnertime and dark. I ate breakfast at the computer, skipped lunch, have 14 windows open to various sites I either need, don't understand or am afraid to close. I write in the hope that this really is It - my blog, the one I've been meaning to start since August. If you're reading this, it is: Yahoo!
And that is as good an introduction to what When I'm 64 is about as anything. At my age, technology is something I work with as comfortably as a scorpion: as long as I don't make any sudden moves (or hit the wrong key or X a site I need), we get along pretty well.
This is my prequel year to senior citizenship and I expect I have a lot to learn. I hope to get advice from Those Who Have Gone Before as well as Fellow Travellers. I promise to share anything I learn. We are a strange generation of (some of us) post war babies but not-quite Boomers. I like it because were I a little older, the computer revolution might have left me behind completely.
Off the top of my head, we prequelers face applying for Social Security/Canada Pension (this is a North American site as I am a hybrid, aka dual citizen), the dynamics of becoming An Elder (a term I much prefer to senior citizen), the Granny Two Step with grandkids & their folks, What's Next and what others come up with/face/feel is important/find funny.
Funny is key. After all, if you're not having fun, what's the point?
I had a brilliant post about the media-fuelled panicdemic of Swine Flu vaccinations, but today's frustrations sapped my good will and I need to replenish it by practicing our holiday concert with my chorus and playing my egg. Music soothes...etc.
Signed (today only): The Savage Beast