White Rabbit
Jefferson Airplane
When I was small my parents provided us with daily vitamins. I'm not sure if they intentionally sourced these out for us or, my father, being a physician, brought them home from the office each month. Regardless, I took the vitamins dutifully, for no reason other than I was asked to do so. Besides, rejecting the vitamins and trying to convince a medically trained mother and father that you knew more about the human body's needs than them was pointless.
The vitamins that entered our home came in one size and type - large, dry, horse size pills. Probably beige in colour with chalky flavour and hard edges. I may have had to choke down the first few of these but eventually learned the knack of letting them float down my throat with a good swig of water. I remember a few that may have gotten 'stuck' and needed a bit of extra dousing but then more water is never a bad thing.
Little did I know at the time that this early training forced upon me as a child would be to my benefit in my later years. Forget the one dry pill a day, not only have my years multiplied but also the daily pill count. I now toss down 7 pills on a daily basis. Two to manage different chronic medical conditions, 1 to manage hormone levels to keep a past medical issue at bay, 2 to keep my aging immune system strong, 1 because my sister said it was a good thing to do based on her discussions with a family friend who lived a healthy long life and finally a multivitamin as a catchall - just in case (or, if you are a fan of Love Actually than it's 'just in cases'). Sadly, no pill to make me taller nor one to make me smaller in areas I might desire. And yes, I can slog down these 7 wonder pills with one gulp of water - no gagging.
Recently as I watched my late teen, early twenties kids fall to colds and flu somewhat aggravated by poor eating and sleeping habits I supplied them with a bottle of daily vitamins. They were all quite amenable to the idea probably because I was footing the bill and delivering to their bedrooms. Despite the fact that these kids can quite skillfully snarf down large handfuls of a cake, chips or fries in one gulp they seem to struggle with the thought of one small, smooth-edged pill a day. My long diatribes about the 7 wonder pills has not boosted their confidence in their ability to negotiate this small lump down their throat but rather further added to their library of stories of how odd and unusual their mother might be. One child is convinced it is not a possibility to manage the task and I've had to resort to supplying her with sugary, fruit shaped chewables.
So were are now a family of vitamin takers, hopefully warding off the evils of viruses, iron deficiency and building muscle and strong immune systems. We are also likely a family peeing a large quantity of nutrients into our water system. There may be arguments against all this excessive dumping but it's probably better than letting our systems deteriorate and having to pump up with medicines.
In a small way I also consider this a long standing legacy from my parents to their grandkids. Had they been alive when my kids were born, I imagine my parents insisting they take vitamins (and keep their elbows off the table, hands away from their faces, blow their noses, etc).
Sometimes it's not about knowing all the science but just about trusting in the advice from our elders even if we might have to choke it back now and then.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Buddy Can You Spare a Dime
Buddy Can You Spare a Dime
Bing Crosby
When my kids were younger, we would always carry loose change in our pockets in case we came upon a street performer or someone with a hand out. Perhaps it was because the kids were small and closer to the sidewalk and visual of these people, that they saw them immediately and asked for some coins to give away. Or maybe it was because their eyes were open and had not yet become prejudiced by society's caution against scams and enabling the unfortunate to live unhealthy lifestyles. They gave freely. They danced with the performers. They looked into the eyes of the people on the street without fear
When did that all change? When did we stop carrying extra change? When did we adopt the attitude that beggars were scammers or sponging off society. When did we distrust everything we saw? When someone asks for change for a bus or a coffee...why do we automatically assume they are being creative with the truth?
I hear myself replying to these requests that 'I have no change'. When I know for sure that there are coins in my pocket or perhaps a snack that I can pass along. I don't like what I hear myself saying. I enjoy much of the music on the street and the sense that these performers share their gifts with such joy but yet, my purse strings remain tight. Worse than that, I see that my kids have adopted the same practice. What have I taught them? What am I afraid of?
I am now making an attempt to change. I consciously keep a few coins in my pocket when I go out for a walk. I'm not so reluctant to part with my 'spare change'. When someone asks 'Buddy can you spare a dime...or quarter, dollar, whatever, I hope that I will be there. I hope that it will brighten their day and perhaps mine.
Bing Crosby
When my kids were younger, we would always carry loose change in our pockets in case we came upon a street performer or someone with a hand out. Perhaps it was because the kids were small and closer to the sidewalk and visual of these people, that they saw them immediately and asked for some coins to give away. Or maybe it was because their eyes were open and had not yet become prejudiced by society's caution against scams and enabling the unfortunate to live unhealthy lifestyles. They gave freely. They danced with the performers. They looked into the eyes of the people on the street without fear
When did that all change? When did we stop carrying extra change? When did we adopt the attitude that beggars were scammers or sponging off society. When did we distrust everything we saw? When someone asks for change for a bus or a coffee...why do we automatically assume they are being creative with the truth?
I hear myself replying to these requests that 'I have no change'. When I know for sure that there are coins in my pocket or perhaps a snack that I can pass along. I don't like what I hear myself saying. I enjoy much of the music on the street and the sense that these performers share their gifts with such joy but yet, my purse strings remain tight. Worse than that, I see that my kids have adopted the same practice. What have I taught them? What am I afraid of?
I am now making an attempt to change. I consciously keep a few coins in my pocket when I go out for a walk. I'm not so reluctant to part with my 'spare change'. When someone asks 'Buddy can you spare a dime...or quarter, dollar, whatever, I hope that I will be there. I hope that it will brighten their day and perhaps mine.
Night Moves
Night Moves
Bob Seger
What you shouldn't do if you wake up in the middle of the night and can't seem to get back to sleep:
Bob Seger
What you shouldn't do if you wake up in the middle of the night and can't seem to get back to sleep:
- NEVER look at the clock. If it's dark and there are no birds singing then it's too early to get up. Well for most people. Morning radio hosts may beg to differ.
- Don't look at your phone or tablet to check e-mails. First off the light itself will throw your brain into wake up mode and it will take even longer to shut it down to allow you to get back to sleep which is likely what you want; to sleep that is. Second, who the heck is e-mailing you in the middle of the night? If it's a time zone issue then if you respond they will read your note while thinking why the heck are you responding to my e-mail in the middle of the night? No one is expecting a response nor feeling extra special because they think you got up in the middle of the night to respond. More than likely they are thinking you are crazy for even reading the note at that hour.
- Don't consider killing the time doing all those things on your to do list. Like - what a great time to work on my finances or sort out my sock drawer. Try again. Maybe a great time to count those socks as you lie there visualizing them leaping over fences - you know - counting sheep.
Do:
- If you aren't already wearing them. Put on a pair of socks. Proven - by me- that if I wear socks to bed, I sleep soundly. It works. I dare you to try it. But don't sort your sock drawer while you are picking them out.
- Stay in bed. Except to get your socks. Even if you don't fall asleep you are getting rest and maybe a bit of nap if you nod off a bit. But don't get up and get your body and brain thinking that it's morning. The two of them can work together into making you feel like it's ok and you don't need any more shut-eye but the big crash will hit you most likely at that time when you would normally just be getting up. Then it will be come altogether clear that they were leading you on....but you put them up to it in the first place.
- Drink water. Not gallons because then you'll be up again to get rid of it. Just enough to justify in your mind why you woke up which will keep you thinking of all the other things that might be the cause of that. .
- Breathe deep and long. If you do it right you could just pass out....not the best approach but might get where you want to be. You are already lying down so what's the problem?
- Let go of the thoughts that keeping you up. Visualize them floating away. I kind of sort of just made this one up. But sounds pretty good to me. Or quickly write it down so it's not in your head anymore but on a piece of paper on your bedside. You can write in the dark you know. Remember, it's not about being able to read it in the morning but rather getting it out of your brain.
In case you hadn't mentally logged it, that means you need to keep beside your bed: socks, water, paper and pencil. No cell phone or computer unless you have mastered the art of ignoring them.
Good luck and sleep tight - no talk of bedbugs. How did anyone ever get to sleep with that as their nightly send off?!
I've got no strings to hold me down
I've Got No Strings
Leigh Harlline and Ned Washington (from Pinnochio)
I have been walking around with this song in my mind....blasting at times for the past 18 months. It keeps me up, keeps me bouncing, keeps me smiling.
In order to understand the relevance of this tune, it is important that I tell you that I am a breast cancer survivor and that I elected in my treatment to proceed with a double mastectomy. In non- medical terms that means I gave the doctors permission to remove both my breasts...even though there was only cancer cells evident in the one.
Once you recover from the surgery it is hard to adjust to the idea of feeling feminine without the one physical trait that identifies us as such. It takes a while to get let go of the programming we have gone through growing up - the images that we have in mind of what it means to be a woman. Once you get past that part, then the struggle is finding clothes that work. But once you get beyond that it is the best thing in the world. So freeing, so fun, so liberating.
Ok, speaking to the women here....just imagine, waking up, throwing on a t- shirt and going out for the day. No concerns about feeling exposed or loose. Ok, if that doesn't do it for you, imagine a hot summer day, you are going to a wedding....imagine just throwing on a dress and underwear and you are done...no straps, no binding, no 'I can't wait to get home and rip off this bra!!!'. Ok, I had to go through cancer diagnosis and treatment but I consider it my reward for a job well done.
One day I woke up fully accepting my new persona... and the song came blasting in my brain.
I've got no boobs to hold me down
To make me fret
To make me frown
I've got no boobs
But now I'm free
There are no boobs on me.
Catchy tune. It has become my mantra. If you know anyone going through breast cancer treatment and considering treatment options, throw the song their way and see if it fits. It might just help them in the decision making process.
Leigh Harlline and Ned Washington (from Pinnochio)
I have been walking around with this song in my mind....blasting at times for the past 18 months. It keeps me up, keeps me bouncing, keeps me smiling.
In order to understand the relevance of this tune, it is important that I tell you that I am a breast cancer survivor and that I elected in my treatment to proceed with a double mastectomy. In non- medical terms that means I gave the doctors permission to remove both my breasts...even though there was only cancer cells evident in the one.
Once you recover from the surgery it is hard to adjust to the idea of feeling feminine without the one physical trait that identifies us as such. It takes a while to get let go of the programming we have gone through growing up - the images that we have in mind of what it means to be a woman. Once you get past that part, then the struggle is finding clothes that work. But once you get beyond that it is the best thing in the world. So freeing, so fun, so liberating.
Ok, speaking to the women here....just imagine, waking up, throwing on a t- shirt and going out for the day. No concerns about feeling exposed or loose. Ok, if that doesn't do it for you, imagine a hot summer day, you are going to a wedding....imagine just throwing on a dress and underwear and you are done...no straps, no binding, no 'I can't wait to get home and rip off this bra!!!'. Ok, I had to go through cancer diagnosis and treatment but I consider it my reward for a job well done.
One day I woke up fully accepting my new persona... and the song came blasting in my brain.
I've got no boobs to hold me down
To make me fret
To make me frown
I've got no boobs
But now I'm free
There are no boobs on me.
Catchy tune. It has become my mantra. If you know anyone going through breast cancer treatment and considering treatment options, throw the song their way and see if it fits. It might just help them in the decision making process.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Nobody knows you when you're down and out
Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out
Jimmy Cox
It's amazing how we operate in our own little social bubbles. Only seeing those who seem to fit into our world - everyone else in the outlying fog - not in our view. We walk down the street and somehow don't see the panhandlers or those living on the edge - outside our edge. We quickly forget that those individuals have stories, families and lives of their own.
I was in my own little bubble the other day taking the garbage out to the lane I saw a man on bicycle collecting bottles from another house and called out to let him know that I'd have a few collectibles for him to pick up. We met up in the alley a few minutes later and he began in sort through my recycling. Then he broke the bubble ' Hey, you are the family that lived here a long time ago'. I acknowledged that we had been living in the same house for years, fully prepared just to move back into my yard and seal up that bubble. But I looked him in the eye and there he was our former neighbour, now no long living in the neighbourhood and more likely closer to the street level. My kids played with his, they slept over regularly and spent hours in our yard. It was clear that his kids weren't living with him any longer but he proudly told me of their school successes and their lives - beaming while he did.
His life has taken him on another path, one that takes him outside my bubble world. He's obviously seen some hard times but he's still the same neighbour - a good conversationalist and a very proud father. And, even though I had to ask him to remind me - his name is Gary and he has reminded me that my bubble world is too small and perhaps needs to break.
Jimmy Cox
It's amazing how we operate in our own little social bubbles. Only seeing those who seem to fit into our world - everyone else in the outlying fog - not in our view. We walk down the street and somehow don't see the panhandlers or those living on the edge - outside our edge. We quickly forget that those individuals have stories, families and lives of their own.
I was in my own little bubble the other day taking the garbage out to the lane I saw a man on bicycle collecting bottles from another house and called out to let him know that I'd have a few collectibles for him to pick up. We met up in the alley a few minutes later and he began in sort through my recycling. Then he broke the bubble ' Hey, you are the family that lived here a long time ago'. I acknowledged that we had been living in the same house for years, fully prepared just to move back into my yard and seal up that bubble. But I looked him in the eye and there he was our former neighbour, now no long living in the neighbourhood and more likely closer to the street level. My kids played with his, they slept over regularly and spent hours in our yard. It was clear that his kids weren't living with him any longer but he proudly told me of their school successes and their lives - beaming while he did.
His life has taken him on another path, one that takes him outside my bubble world. He's obviously seen some hard times but he's still the same neighbour - a good conversationalist and a very proud father. And, even though I had to ask him to remind me - his name is Gary and he has reminded me that my bubble world is too small and perhaps needs to break.
Monday, June 13, 2016
School's out forever
School's Out
Alice Cooper
In the next few weeks I will be graduating from high school....for the fourth time. My last child will be leaving the high school system and moving on to the next stage. It brings me to the end of, I hate to say it, an era. Three kids, multiple high schools, junior high and elementary school, pre-school, tutors, school trips, plays, concerts, PAC meetings, ceremonies, school BBQ's, fees, lost library books, photos, sports days, PD days.
No more onslaught of forms and more forms in September. No more reminders from teachers about lost or late assignments. No more fund raising requests. When I answer the phone at 6pm I will no longer hear "This is such and such secondary calling, please hold. A child named....was absent from in the following blocks .....".
While I am very much looking forward to the change, I will miss being connected to the school community, the feeling that I was still part of my childrens' lives, that I still had some control of where there were and what they were learning; some influence over their day. I was able to speak directly with the teachers about their work. All that is over. They are all now in the position where the control is handed over to them. Any information that I might feel I need or want would have to filter through them only at their permission.
Happy, sad, nostalgic, feeling triumphant. I am so very proud of my kids. They showed up. They did me proud. We made it. We all made it despite all the shit thrown at us over the years. Way to go kids! Let's celebrate! We've earned it!
Alice Cooper
In the next few weeks I will be graduating from high school....for the fourth time. My last child will be leaving the high school system and moving on to the next stage. It brings me to the end of, I hate to say it, an era. Three kids, multiple high schools, junior high and elementary school, pre-school, tutors, school trips, plays, concerts, PAC meetings, ceremonies, school BBQ's, fees, lost library books, photos, sports days, PD days.
No more onslaught of forms and more forms in September. No more reminders from teachers about lost or late assignments. No more fund raising requests. When I answer the phone at 6pm I will no longer hear "This is such and such secondary calling, please hold. A child named....was absent from in the following blocks .....".
While I am very much looking forward to the change, I will miss being connected to the school community, the feeling that I was still part of my childrens' lives, that I still had some control of where there were and what they were learning; some influence over their day. I was able to speak directly with the teachers about their work. All that is over. They are all now in the position where the control is handed over to them. Any information that I might feel I need or want would have to filter through them only at their permission.
Happy, sad, nostalgic, feeling triumphant. I am so very proud of my kids. They showed up. They did me proud. We made it. We all made it despite all the shit thrown at us over the years. Way to go kids! Let's celebrate! We've earned it!
Friday, January 8, 2016
Sign, sign everywhere a sign
Signs
Five Man Electrical Band
Signs, signs everwhere a sign. Yup they are everywhere. We just have to take the time to notice. And I'm not talking about stop signs like the one I saw a driver blatantly ignore the other day. I'm talking about those little signs from the universe that help to point us in a direction.
I have always relied on these signs or hints. They come in all shapes in sizes and usually when you aren't really looking for them. Usually when I'm at my whits end, I usually can find something that I consider a sign to help me get to the next stage.
Just the other day I was trying to decide between two different fabrics for my living room couch. I don't do this couch shopping regularly, unless you call every 15 years regular. Anyway, I narrowed it down to 2 which is a long process for someone who needs to consider all the options. I was back and forth between the two for a good 1/2 hour but wanting to finalize the order and get on with the next 15 years of my life. While reading the details on the fabric classifications, there it was, a sign from above in more ways than one. The name of the fabric was Winston - my Dad's name. That was it. Decision made. Dad had tapped me on the shoulder and given me the signal. I rest easy with the decision knowing that my father would approve. My father who probably never went couch shopping.
Another one I'm considering right now is that all the plants in my office are dying. Same office for 15 years, but they have both decided to cash it in at the same time. They came into the office at different times, from different sources. Ok, what does this mean? It's something. Yes, could be as simple as the plants realizing that after many years they are actually living plants who need to nourish themselves by photosynthesis and they have not seen a spec of sunshine in all the time they've been in my company. Well, all I have to say is - it took them long enough! Or, is it some greater sign that I should be packing it in as well and hitting the old retirement bandwagon? I'll keep monitoring that one. Not sure that I should go so far as making financial decisions based on my plants.
On the theme of retirement - is it a sign of some sort that my favorite number all through my childhood was 55? I work in the pension world and that's one of the key numbers - while not as magical as some insurance companies might lead you to believe. Was this the kick in the pants in my youth to tell me of my career direction? Well, like the plants it took me a long time by trial and error to pick up on that. Not that they teach pension in high school at all.
You know when everything seems to be going wrong, you're butting heads with the world and you can't seem to get out of it. There are tons of signs out there. Just sit back and look for them. It feels so good when you let the universe in to help guide you through life. Yes, sounds flaky but it is true. Leave the decisions up to someone/thing else. Step back instead of butting heads. Just do what feels right and most importantly trust yourself and the path you are on instead of pushing yourself to come up with the right answer.
Oh, in case you are still wondering. The couch will be brown, but the perfect brown cause my Dad told me so.
Five Man Electrical Band
Signs, signs everwhere a sign. Yup they are everywhere. We just have to take the time to notice. And I'm not talking about stop signs like the one I saw a driver blatantly ignore the other day. I'm talking about those little signs from the universe that help to point us in a direction.
I have always relied on these signs or hints. They come in all shapes in sizes and usually when you aren't really looking for them. Usually when I'm at my whits end, I usually can find something that I consider a sign to help me get to the next stage.
Just the other day I was trying to decide between two different fabrics for my living room couch. I don't do this couch shopping regularly, unless you call every 15 years regular. Anyway, I narrowed it down to 2 which is a long process for someone who needs to consider all the options. I was back and forth between the two for a good 1/2 hour but wanting to finalize the order and get on with the next 15 years of my life. While reading the details on the fabric classifications, there it was, a sign from above in more ways than one. The name of the fabric was Winston - my Dad's name. That was it. Decision made. Dad had tapped me on the shoulder and given me the signal. I rest easy with the decision knowing that my father would approve. My father who probably never went couch shopping.
Another one I'm considering right now is that all the plants in my office are dying. Same office for 15 years, but they have both decided to cash it in at the same time. They came into the office at different times, from different sources. Ok, what does this mean? It's something. Yes, could be as simple as the plants realizing that after many years they are actually living plants who need to nourish themselves by photosynthesis and they have not seen a spec of sunshine in all the time they've been in my company. Well, all I have to say is - it took them long enough! Or, is it some greater sign that I should be packing it in as well and hitting the old retirement bandwagon? I'll keep monitoring that one. Not sure that I should go so far as making financial decisions based on my plants.
On the theme of retirement - is it a sign of some sort that my favorite number all through my childhood was 55? I work in the pension world and that's one of the key numbers - while not as magical as some insurance companies might lead you to believe. Was this the kick in the pants in my youth to tell me of my career direction? Well, like the plants it took me a long time by trial and error to pick up on that. Not that they teach pension in high school at all.
You know when everything seems to be going wrong, you're butting heads with the world and you can't seem to get out of it. There are tons of signs out there. Just sit back and look for them. It feels so good when you let the universe in to help guide you through life. Yes, sounds flaky but it is true. Leave the decisions up to someone/thing else. Step back instead of butting heads. Just do what feels right and most importantly trust yourself and the path you are on instead of pushing yourself to come up with the right answer.
Oh, in case you are still wondering. The couch will be brown, but the perfect brown cause my Dad told me so.
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