drivers

How do you cope with the stressed drivers in our fair land? Not just the ones who are a little irritated... the ones who are really rushing mad about something! The last couple of "pre-game" drives home I've had have been exhausting; due to the absolutely necessary heightened state of concentration one needs to avoid a collision. Boy, some people are not at all willing to miss a single, solitary minute of the game, and take every action they believe is necessary in order to fulfill that need. Tailgating is my favourite pet peeve, especially when the drivers try to stare you down by leaning over their steering wheel and give you the evil eye as up-close as they can in your rear-view mirror. Driving an older, perceived slower car makes this a relatively frequent occurrence, on game night in particular.

But... I can drive! I carry a driver's licence and would only ever get pulled over if I've committed a driving infraction (happened once in my life) or was weaving in and out of lanes (never happened). I just heard that in Saudi Arabia, women STILL can't drive, along with a whole slew of other important "personhood" things they aren't allowed to do yet including crossing a border without your male guardian, voting and opening a bank account. Have I had my head in the sand? I know all about Afghanistan but I had completely missed this Saudi thing.

So, this past week I've taken a new tact to my road rage. I think about the women in Saudi who are trying to organize a march or protest of sorts on or about June 17th, to highlight this issue to the world. I think about Manal al-Sharif (pictured above) who had the temerity to post a video of her driving skills on youtube and is now spending her 7th night in jail. She has yet to be charged. I take a deep breath and enjoy the scenery, worry less about the drivers cutting me off, try to find just a little compassion for them.... they are way more stressed than me and must suffer in the face of that stress. I think about my cherished driver's licence, and remember it's a privilege, not a right. Protest. Drive. Breathe.

tupperware

How do you keep all that lovely recycled tupperware organized? At our house, it is the bane of my existence. I either ignore it or rage at it. I think because it's all stacked on a shelf just above my eye level. Requires a chair to assess size, type and to find a matching lid. I don't want to store it with the lids on tight, cuts down stacking possibilities, and besides, it gets a bit smelly.

It's been suggested I move the collection to a lower drawer. These drawers contain equally important and heavier items that could end up falling on ones heads in the midst of a rant filled searching expedition. Of course, maybe we have too much. I could give some of it away? But the day after I did, would be the day I would be looking for one particular double compartment with matching lid, and then I'd be bereft. Worse than losing my cell phone because it would have been a conscious decision.

Tupperware is an old (trademarked term) term for plastic containers with matching tight fitting lids. Truly revolutionary in my mother's era. It was also traded among friends, implied a trusted relationship, was loaded with baking and easy dinners when a friend fell sick, was home after a new baby or on bed rest for anything. I also just recently heard a touching story about the labelling of said tupperware so a friend could more easily pick up take-out for the tupperware owner who was post-op. Stacking and falling. Giving and receiving. Loving and caring. Pop. Hiss. Lock.

dads

How do you write something to say at your dad's memorial without crying? Not that I have anything against crying, but when I cry, people can't understand a word I am trying to say. There is also the crying that happens as you do the actual writing. I've given myself lots of time though, unlike my usual style, to procrastinate at EVERYTHING else in my life that could be construed as "paperwork". (Anyone who knows me should be at least chuckling by now). I can say with a straight face though, that I got this trait from my dad. The procrastination, not the crying.

He would stay up really late before a project was done. We wouldn't see him for days. He would only surface from his office in the basement to eat and then head right back down. I remember hearing him plunking away on his typewriter (yes, typewriter, you read right) and then racing over to his typist in the family car to get the final draft retyped. He had been a male secretary in a former life. 90 words a minute. That's not an inheritable trait though, domage.  That was his hard work. We never managed to convince him to switch to a word processor before he retired. Maybe he thought it would slow him down.

Another thing he taught me other than procrastination was to love hockey. It was the Montreal Canadiens at that time. Family and friends fondly remember one of his favorite hockey "screams"... "Shit, Schutt.... SHOOT!" (oh yeah, I guess that's how I learned to swear too) Two younger brothers and a hockey crazy dad (and mom), so I just had to learn, otherwise there was no TV for 4 long winter months. I finally decided to ask... "What's an offside?" and my training began. Now the Canucks are going to the Stanley Cup and Vancouver is gripped with hockey fever. I am sure my dad is around somewhere, reminiscing about Canadian hockey with Foster Hewitt. Enjoying how much I'm enjoying hockey. Sniff. Wipe. Cheers.

cold

How do you call in sick when a lot of your colleagues are going into work sick? Not only that, when I got in to work today, they had turned the heat off. Old building. It was so warm on Friday I left my window open in the office. I was cold all day, never warmed up. Dripping nose, much sneezing despite several doses of decongestant. Wait a minute... did I get this wonderful spring cold from... them???

Good thing I didn't try to get hockey tickets. At least this way I am firmly ensconced in from of my TV watching the Canucks work their magic. (oh yeah, don't read the rest of this blog if you're watching the game later on tonight on your PVR) A bowl of soup in the micro, a hot hockey beverage in hand. (back east they are called "hot toddies") Hockey rinks are too cold when you're under the weather.

Hockey rinks in cold weather climes... now that's worthy of another paragraph. Atlanta Thrashers are rumoured to be heading back to Winterpeg... good chance I think. But they'll stay in the Southeast Division? Winnipeg in the Southeast Division? A rose by any other name I guess. At least it cuts the number of NHL rinks that are melting under the hot southern May sun by 1. Puts another team back in Canada. May in Vancouver and I'm freezing in my office. Hot toddy in hand and the Canucks are up by one at the end of the first. Shit. Schutt. Shoot!

grammar

How do you write a blog when your knowledge of grammar is suspect? When I re-read my first 2 blogs, I just know, in my heart of hearts, that there are lots of grammatical errors. I was always a "B" in English type... "A" for Creativity, "C" for Grammar and Spelling. I did better in French grammar than English grammar.  They say that English is the hardest language to learn. It is my first language though. Sigh.

Someone who really seems to know his grammar is Stephen Harper. I am sure he was an "A" in English type. And now he even has speech writers! I bet HE proofreads his own speech writers speeches.  How embarrassing would THAT be... "Harper found another grammatical error in one of the speeches I wrote for him today" Those poor people. Harper would NEVER hire me to write a speech for him. Not that I would accept. I would be too tempted to plagiarize passages from other important speeches, and we all know how that has gone for him in the past.

Then there is Obama. I am sure he has speech writers, but I have heard rumours that he helps write speeches too. Plus he's a great orator. Obama strikes me as the kind of person who may even puts grammatical errors in his speeches on purpose... just because they would be common ones that the public could connect with. He does have this way of connecting to his listeners in a way that Harper just doesn't. Obama is on TV right now, connecting to the Irish. Including the Irish in his ever widening sphere of friends. Did you know he has Irish roots? An Irish 8th cousin? Me neither. He spoke to the adversity that the Irish have overcome... potato famine, war, finding democracy. Important areas of connection that Americans and Irish have in common. Potatoes. Friendship. Peace.

connection

How do you spend an evening with friends after watching the movie "Bridesmaids"? The movie over, a hand was thrust between myself and my girlfriend, a fist full of a ten dollar bill waved to attract my attention... the husband of someone in line I had given an extra ticket to earlier in the evening. Unbeknownst to me this lovely couple had ended up in the row behind us. Wouldn't take no for an answer.

As it turned out, the "found" money came in use later in the evening during my mad dash cab ride to find my cell phone. During the movie, I fought the urge to be distracted by the "who, what, where, when-ness" of my mental search. When had I last held my phone in my hot little hand?

Movie over, the game's afoot. As I used my friends' phones to call home, call the cab company, call my phone, it dawned on my how important this lost phone was to me. Not for the ease of connection with friends and family, not for the very pretty cover I bought to match my ski-jacket, not for the sense of security carrying it around gave me.... no, it was the loss of those 129 photos I had taken over the past 2 months. The loss of the moments you can connect to through photos.

An hour later, and all the searching that could be done... done, (no phone), I settled into a energizing evening of good bread, wine and connection. Our friend found us, despite not being able to text me. Amazing how that happens.We shared our moments of connection to characters in the film, to themes in the movie, moments of reconnection with our lost selves and each other. Traded knee surgery stories, shared about the responsibilities of work and children. No earthquakes, no rapture... only genuine people enjoying moments together. More photos were taken. Flash. Click. Saved.

rapture

How would you spend your last day on earth?  I heard about Rapture today on CNN... they were asking viewers to call in and let the TV audience in on how they would spend their final full day on earth as we know it. Turns out, people have given it some thought! One young man expressed gratitude that his partner had not paid their charge cards. Another wanted to tell his girlfriend she was the most wonderful woman on earth. Sigh.

Rapture parties seem like a good option to me. Get together with your nearest and dearest, tell them how you really feel, brace yourselves at 600 pm (Rapture is time zone dependent) and try to enjoy the ride! Oh... no signs of Rapture in Fiji yet.

Still, carpe diem and all that. Good wine, good friends, good music, break bread, see a funny movie, move away from your desk and get outside, ask yourselves big picture questions. Rest. Plant. Savour.