Halloooooween

You know that Fall is well and truly here, and the freezing hands of Winter cold on its tail by the time Halloween comes round.   This year we have foregone the gutting of a giant pumpkin in favour of a lightweight styrofoam look-a-like that lights up at the flick of a switch - safer, cleaner, and far less energy draining.  The black cat - all arched back and fangs, the huge black spider dangling down, and the scary wreath deck the porch in anticipation of bunches of munchkins trailing pillow cases and garbage bags for all their goodies.  


As soon as the sun sets, the weird, wonderful and wackily dressed, trot up to front doors in the neighbourhood with a chorus of "Trick or Treat".  Of course, never expecting anything other than handfuls of candy plopped into ever growing sacks.  Little ladybugs, bees, princesses and Elmo's eyes grow wide if you challenge with "Trick".  On the other hand, vampires, soldiers and zombies eyes roll up in the teenage signal for the bored "whatever".  In all cases, loot bags are thrust forward anyway and all beat a hasty retreat once the prize is in their possession.  Be sure to give the teenagers a nice load of chocolate or candy - the more satisfied they are, the less likely you will wake up to eggs drooling down the brickwork and toilet paper wrapped creatively around your trees.
This year, we bought two boxes of chocolate bars well ahead of time.  Big mistake! It was far too easy to sneak a bar every time you walk past the offending enticement.  The pounds were settling in on the hips before I asked husband (he of much greater discipline and willpower) to hide the loot far enough away that the "Eat me, eat me" voices could not be heard.  Still had a hard time resisting, and spent some fruitless nights tiptoeing around with a torch peering under couches, opening drawers, lifting pillows and crawling under beds.  Felt like the Pink Panther!
Ah well, voodoo children have been fed, the house is thankfully left intact, and the last of the candy has been donated to more worthy causes than my tastebuds.  November is here and we are now officially close to Christmas....
Have a BOOOtiful night! 
     

The Scourge that is Vanity.

I'd like to think that I am stepping gracefully and elegantly into my senior years, but I've come to realise that that probably means different things to different people.  From my perspective, it doesn't mean embracing matronly conservative pant suits, I won't be wearing polyester nylon anytime soon, and birkenstocks are far into my future.  On the other hand, baby doll sandals and spaghetti straps have gone the way of the dodo.  After all, there is reality to face... or is it gravity?  Those upper arms flap just a little bit more, and going bra-free would just scare the neighbours.  Still, I like colour - vibrant colours for some of my shirts, a great pair of red stilettos, rainbow scarves, hi-lites and colour to mask the gray, coral and aqua jackets.  Can't say that I have ever mastered 'chic', but I try to keep up.
A conversation that hardly ever comes up in genteel or regular conversations, however, is the topic of extraneous hair.  No-one tells us at 21 that at 51 or 61, the invisible down fleetingly seen in occasional sunlight when you're young, turns into black, wiry tensile cable visible from three yards (to all those under 40, with their pristine vision).  We stand, bespectacled and squinting, in front of mirrors that magnify, painstakingly plucking the offending wire from our chins and upper lips.  As hormones dwindle, we become frequent flyers at the local beauty parlor, where we willingly and desparately undergo the torturous delights of facial waxing, leg waxing and that other waxing in the nether regions - although most of us oldies usually forego that pleasure unless we are off on the annual vacation, where we can anonymously and inconspicuously don the ubiquitous full piece bathing suit, which hopefully rides low enough so that no eye popping may occur from the younger set. 

And woe betide that you should have daughters - at least they're honest and actually tell you that you have black hairs sprouting and curling from your chin.  Three growing close together allows you to contemplate braiding as a statement, but convention usually dictates otherwise.  Not to speak of the humiliation as she tells you to go get the tweezers and then proceeds to pull away, all the while lecturing about "you shouldn't have let it go this far!  But what is one to do? Even with glasses the little beggers are hard to see.

The aha moment swept me up with excitement - off to the electrolysis lady - who is sure to wave her magic wand and rid me of my problem forever.    Oh, the shock and terror when I finally lay down for my 30 minutes of problem solved.  No fairy godmother waving her magic wand for me! She might as well have been dressed in leathers and carried a whip - does anyone know the pain of having a needle jabbed through seven layers of epidermis, down the hair follicle to the root, and at the end of which experience the hair-raising jolt as electricity buzzes the poor hair in such a manner so that it jumps right out of its skin.  The worst part - some of those little hairs have no intention of budging, so dominatrix lady zaps you a few more times for good measure.  Now that is one hair follicle - imagine another hundred of the little soldiers! 

Amazingly, I willingly submitted myself to this procedure and even paid for the privilege.  But it's kind of like the childbirth phenomenon - you forget about the pain once it's over.  I have to say that the end result was worth the effort and I will take myself off to the 'chamber' a couple more times to be finally rid of the problem.

The joys of growing old gracefully!

Backyard Bandits

For a garden that is far less than half an acre, we sure do attract a lot of wildlife.  Squirrels and chipmunks have set up apartments in the tree trunks.  We have blue jays, cardinals, juncos and chickadees who empty our bird feeders daily.  There are a few pigeons, and a duo of wood doves who had a pair of beautiful babies this last spring.  We have skunks who wander by, and bunnies who hop in for a munch every evening.  They all love the watering hole, the feeders and the fresh food we leave out for their dining pleasure.

By far our biggest residents are the two raccoons who have built their home in our pergola, well camouflaged by a flourishing wisteria.  These nocturnal animals swish down like firemen on poles in the evening, and waddle off to try their luck dining at our local restaurant.  Unlike the chipmunk who shoots up the vertical iron pole on which the feeding station hangs and successfully gobbles up seed, these lumbering creatures are destined to fail.  Pretty persistent though - they try acrobatics from the tree branches, only for gravity to kick in and head them tumbling to the ground.  Then they try climbing the 2 cm diameter pole, hanging on with fingernails locked - to no avail - they just can't make it to the feeder.  In the end, defeated and still hungry they climb the fence to, hopefully, greener pastures.  They must do ok, because they return to their perch to forage another day.   

Let's hope they don't become pesky pests.

Thanksgiving

Here we are at Thanksgiving again.  What a wonderful long-weekend we had.  Temperatures up in the mid-twenties giving us an extravagant excess of summer.  Children back in the fold for a warm family get-together.  Friendships renewed around festive tables of plenty.

I am thankful for:

My children and our continuing relationships

A husband who cares

Friendships old and new

Health - ours, our family's, and our friends

Then jobs - at least we have them - when I see gray haired old men with placards round their necks pleading for work... I am happy we have ours.

A roof over our head ....even if it is mortgaged.

Plenty of food on the table - imagine being a child in Haiti, a mother in Sudan.

I am grateful for:

The opportunities that have presented themselves  

A thinking brain - the ability to question, debate, recall, inform and listen

The ability to read

I appreciate:

The birds who visit our feeders

People who help me

Vacations that come round every year

Warm summer evenings outside on the patio and cosy winter nights round the fire

A car that doesn't break down - touch wood

A sense of humour

A caring attitude

Thanksgiving - lots to be thankful for.

Think Pink

 October has become known as the month for communities across Canada to get into the swing of raising money for cancer research.  We have the annual Terry Fox Run - a wonderful human being who set across Canada on one good leg and one prosthetic to raise awareness and cash for research in the 80's.  Unfortunately, he died at about 20 years old, but left a legacy that has continued to raise millions in donations each year. 

And then we have Run for the Cure - this one is especially for breast cancer - for the survivors and for the fallen.  It's an annual event in towns and cities across Canada.  Participants run or walk 5 kms on a brisk and early Sunday morning in early October.  Their faces mirror everyone in our midst - young and old, male and female: infants in strollers, exuberant 10 year olds, competitive runners in the front of the pack, grannies huffing along and all of us in between. 

Over the years, I have always stood on the sidelines - donated to others to do the running and then watched the newsrooms tot up the money total at the end of the day. This year I took up the invitation to do the real thing.  

And it was fun - dressed up in the gear, the runners and a pink boa, joining the throngs to walk 5kms.  Everyone wore the uniform: white t-shirt with bright pink Run for the Cure writings.  Instead of a runner's number, we wrote the names of those who we were running for - past and present.  It was inspiring to see the names: for 'mom', for 'aunt Sarah', for Granny.  Runners and walkers as far as the eye could see - thousands in each town.  Wellwishers along the way waving us on, waterbowls set out for dogs and bottled water for us - just like the real thing.  The finish line came all too quickly.  All very exhilarating and such a wonderful cause.

Till next year.  
We run in remembrance and in hope.