Well, I'll be darned.

 Today is my birthday, so of course it makes me think of my mum. It's been years since my mum died. 18 years as a matter of fact. I can still hardly talk about her without welling up with tears. I can say things like "Oh, my mum used to do that/enjoy that/sing that....", and I'm fine, but I can't actually discuss her in anything longer than a sentence without becoming extremely emotional. I had always thought that eventually the pain would fade away, but holy cow, not in the least. So, rather than cry in front of people (eeeeek! A huge fear for us introverts!) I generally try to not talk about her too much.

But because I want her memory to live on, I feel the need to tell little stories and anecdotes about her, and writing them down is the easiest way. 

She was a minimalist before the term was ever bandied around like it is nowadays. Partially because we moved so often that it was near impossible to be any sort of collector at all, and the less you have the easier it is to pack up and move, and partially because she was just not very attached to "things".  She had a few ornaments that were special to her...a pair of ceramic ladies on horses that were a gift to her mum on her wedding day, some pieces of jewelry that were also her mothers, and a pair of cufflinks and a tie pin that her dad wore on his wedding day...that sort of thing. 

She did have a collection of books, not a whole lot, she was one of those people who would re-read a favorite book over and over. I didn't inherit that from her....I very seldom re-read a book. However, everywhere we moved to, my dad would build her bookshelves to display them in....built-in to fit whatever kind of a house we were stationed in, and she would add a few more, but mostly we were library folk. 

For someone who was a photographer by profession she didn't even have many photos stashed away. A few small albums of me growing up, some wedding pics of her and my dad and a few from her Airforce days.

So, after she died, there was very little to go through and to have to get rid of. I mean, all the furniture and that sort of stuff was still going to be in use by my dad, so it was only her personal items, and she didn't have a lot. It was still horribly painful to go through her clothes and to decide what I wanted to keep....some belts and scarves, a spring jacket, a few ornaments that my dad asked me if I wanted, all her awesome and eclectic jewelry and that's about it. Like I say, the other items were all things my dad would continue to use. I'll bet it didn't take me two hours.

Anyhow, to make a long story short, after my dad died, 10 years after my mum, amongst his things was a small silver box with "Ruth" written on it. I opened it once, probably 10 years ago, and quickly glanced through a few pictures, what appeared to be some cards (Birthday and Mothers Day cards from me over the years, I was actually surprised she even saved those... as I say, she was not into sentimental savings) It just made me too sad to look, so I just put it away.

However, today I was thinking, and I was pretty sure I had seen this in there....went searching, and sure enough, my birth announcement and hospital wrist band. Awwwwww......kinda means even more to me since I know it must have meant a lot to her.

It's a what?

Today I saw an ad for a Golden Doodle, for $950. "Wow", you say, "Is that a golden cheese doodle? An odd item for sure, but hey, gold is pretty pricey, and whatever floats your boat."

No. I mean a mixed breed dog. A mongrel. A mutt. But give it a fancy name and "Boom!" You now own a designer dog....worth mega-bucks.

My friend, let me explain,a fancy hyphenated name does not turn a mongrel into a purebred. But give a cute puppy a cute name and someone will pay big bucks.

It seems to mostly be oodles of poodles. Labradoodles, golden doodles and schnoodles, just for a start. Then there the oodles of poodles crossed with smaller dogs; malti-poo, cockapoo, Yorki-poo, , peke-a-poo.

....I don't know where it ends. Nor do I know how to spell the names, mostly because there is no official spelling because there is no real breed.  They are made up! I want to cross an Elkhound with a poodle and tell people my dog is elk poo.  That might make it funny, but it doesn't make it a breed. Would you spend $500 on Elk Poo? No? But on a Golden Doodle? Yes, please. Ai-yi-yi....

Here's a fun fact: These dogs have no breeding standards nor any standardized breeding records, no clubs, and no plan for any of that in the future. Which means, no AKC acceptance letters. So....what's the point? Why go to a pet store, or a back yard breeder or a stranger on the Internet and pay huge dollars when you can simply go to your local SPCA or animal shelter and find something that is just as adorable, just as loving, and SO much cheaper and will (most likely) have its shots and spaying/neutering all done? Plus, you are giving a dog a home.

Now, before you tell me that there are designer registries, let me tell you that those so-called registries are just as made up as the designer cross between a Bull Dog and a Shitztu....in other words, Bull-Shit. They are just fueling mill breeding and fooling the public into thinking they are getting a legitimate breed of dog, and a high quality dog. They say when you mix breeds deliberately to get the best qualities of each, you will get an exceptional dog. Well, they know the same as the designer cross between a Jack Russell and a Shitzu....in otherwords, jack-shit. You can easily end up with a dog that has the worst of both breeds, so their statement is pointless.

So you might get this...a "Canardly". As in "I can hardly tell what she is."

Or, you might luck out and get this: a bull pug. 

Or this: a pitsky. (Pitty-husky)

Now, most of today's purebred dogs were indeed developed from careful combing of different breeds for specific purposes, and there have been amazing results. But we are talking about many decades of careful work, and to deliberately market a "breed" to an unknowing consumer who may not realize that spending hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a mongrel is inexcusable. 

I don't want to offend those of you who own these designer dogs, but come on, your local shelter is filled with these "designer dogs" that are desperate for a home. Go and pick your pet and give it a designer name of your own.

My favorites:

Collie and Lhasa Apso: a Collapso.....- dog that falls down a lot.

Collie and a Malamute: a Commute. Take this dog to work.

Malamute and Dalmation:  a Mutation....a homely dog.

A pointer and a Setter: Pointsetter, good for an Xmas gift.

Bloodhound and Labrador: a Blabrador...a dog that talks too much.

Deerhound and any Terrier: a Derrière...a dog that sits all the time

Keeshond and any Setter: a Keester. Gets along well with Derrières.

Chihuahua and Whippet: a Chiapet. Order them from TV, 3 for $19.99 plus shipping,

And we mustn't forget:

Cocker Spaniel and a Rottweiler: .....well,  a CockRot. (A good gift for a philandering ex)

How about a Cocker Spaniel and a Maltese Terrier? Figure it that one out yourself.

.

(I've heard these over the years...I can't take credit for making them all up, even though I'd like to.)

So dont brag to me about your designer multi-named dog that you take for walks with your designer duds and designer coffee cups. Instead, show me that you genuinely care, and get your adorable mixed-mutt from a shelter.

There is a difference.

The whole situation taking place in Syria (and taking place in the media) is making my head spin. The situation is bad enough, but it's the refugee "problem" that saddens me.

There seem to be basically two schools of thought about Canada letting refugees into our country:

1. No. We have our own hungry, jobless, and homeless to take care of first. 

2. Yes. They are human beings....human beings.....that need help.

And wow, people get extremely vitriolic about it. I actually get an upset stomach when I read some of the comments and then I get angry and I try to voice my own opinion, but I'm just so...so....angry and upset that I can't speak in a calm and sensible manner. I just want to shout "What is wrong with people? When did we become so cruel?  So greedy? So uncaring?" But, having said that, I can also understand the opposing views....a little bit. But wait, read the rest of this before you judge me.

What do I mean by that last statement? It's hard to look at news reports of Canadian citizens that are going hungry, children that are going to school without breakfast. Kids without dental care and decent medical care. Elderly people who are doing without the necessities of life. The thing that upsets me the most: veterans who can't survive on their meager pension. Not enough homes. Not enough food. Not enough....not enough....not enough....

"We need to take care of our own first." 

I get that. I do. But the thing is, if the government doesn't let any refugees in, will they spend that money that they "just saved" on the above mentioned problems? No. They won't. It's not like we have to choose: "hmmm....a few million dollars on Canada's issues, or a few million dollars on refugees?" It's not an "either or" situation. I think a lot of people who are against letting refugees in are not fully cognizant of that fact. If we do not let the refugees in, the money that would have been spent on them will not go towards the issues that Canada is having with their own citizens.  It's not Sophie's Choice. (Google that if you don't get my reference)

And I know that this is an old and tired argument, but it's still valid: Almost every one of us is here in Canada because our ancestors came from somewhere else. Some of us have been here 200 years (and yeah, some have been here 10,000 years, but I'm not getting into that argument) but that does not give us the right to consider ourselves owners of the land. "My family has been here x amount of years, so it doesn't count that we originally came from somewhere else at one time, the point is we don't want you here at all." Where is the logic in that?  And I don't care if your family were immigrants (mine were immigrants from Ireland), not refugees. The point is, they came from another country to make a better life for themselves in Canada.

And you know what? I agree that it's not Canada's responsibility to save the world. But you know what else? No one is asking us to.  Why is everyone saying that? People that are desperate for help are asking us to help them. No one is asking us to "bring them all...bring everyone...open the doors and let the masses in." Stop saying that it's not our responsibility to Save the World. No one said that it was. But you can still help save some.

The general consensus in the reports I've read today is seem to be using the amount of 10,000 refugees. The naysayers seem to think that that is an amount that is going to ruin our country. This is a simplistic breakdown, and I get that it's not statistically sound, but think about it. There are approximately 4000 cities and towns in Canada. I actually thought there would be more than that, but regardless, letting in 10,000 refugees is less than 40 people per town. That's a drop in the bucket. And yes, I know it wouldn't work that way, but it lets you see what a tiny amount of people that is. A few hundred new people in Vancouver? Toronto? Montreal? Ottawa? Calgary? Regina? Winnipeg? That's  nothing.  In a country of +35 million, ten thousand is a paltry amount.

So what is everyone so afraid of?

1. It's going to overcrowd our already broken system.

~Not true. That amount of people is not enough to make a difference.

2. They won't assimilate.

~How do you know that? Some will, some wont. I know an awful lot of people who have lived here for years and years and still speak poor English and celebrate their own culture. So what? They work hard and are proud of living here. Hopefully any refugees who are lucky enough to be able to live in Canada will feel the same. You can't not let someone have a safe life because there are others who have taken advantage of the system.

3. They will take our jobs.

~Which jobs do you mean? Oh, the doctors, teachers, engineers, bankers, scientists? The university educated white collar jobs? Those ones? Oh, no, you mean the tradesmen....all the journeymen carpenters, mechanics, electricians, computer techs. Those ones? Oh, I see, you are referring to the menial jobs that Canadians are clamouring for...the hotel cleaners, chambermaids, fast food workers. Yeah, there are so many Canadians that are just dying to have those jobs. That's why no one is on welfare anymore, everyone is scrambling for those jobs. I hope you hear the heavy sarcasm in my voice.

Face it. Most, most, I'm not naive enough to say all, but most of the refugees who will be allowed in will happily work hard at many low paying, crummy jobs, simply to be able to live a free life. The majority of them will be, as the saying goes, productive members of society. They will be no more of a drain on our society than the tens upon tens of thousands of "real" Canadians who are already sucking the system dry. 

Why wouldn't you be willing to give them a chance?  And you do understand don't you, that our government doesn't just send a plane over and let them run willy-nilly to wherever they want to. Nor do they toss them a Care Card and keys to a furnished apartment along with a pre-paid Visa card. There are steps to take.

How does Citizenship and Immigration Canada decide whether a refugee can be sponsored and resettled?

The decisions are based on:

• documents sent by the sponsoring group, showing that it can adequately support the refugee,
• supporting documents sent by the refugee about the claim for refugee protection,
• other information available to the officer (such as details of conditions in the country the refugee is fleeing and in the country the refugee has taken temporary asylum), and/or
• an interview with the applicant.

To be accepted for resettlement in Canada, the refugee must also pass medical and security checks. In addition, a visa officer will assess the refugee based on whether he or she:

• is likely to establish themselves successfully in Canada,
• has relatives or a sponsor in Canada,
• is able to learn English or French, and
• is likely to get a job.

When a family unit is applying, the officer assesses these factors for the family as a unit.

In some cases, the officer may decide that refugees urgently need protection. In that case, they are not assessed on their ability to establish themselves in Canada.

For sure, it's a possibility that a criminal might get in....someone evil and nefarious...but I don't believe we should ban everyone because of a "what if?". I mean, what if your next door neighbour is right now making a bomb? Planning to go on a mass shooting? Looking at child porn? What if? 

My opinion is, we should not turn everyone away. I think we have a moral obligation to help people who are in such dire straights. Everyone? Of course not, that's foolish. Ten thousand? Why not? Seriously, why not?

I've been asking lots of my friends and acquaintances about this, and again, it saddens me to hear so many of them say "Dont let them in" and yet these are the same people who pretend to be so globally aware, eco-friendly, "it takes a village", and Karma, everyone blathers on and on about Karma and "what goes around...", anti-bullying proponents, eat organic to save the planet, save the whales, save the dolphins, save the burrowing owl, save the fucking sea turtles, but save a fellow human being? "Hell no, it's not our responsibility to save the world......"

It's just sad. 

 

Stuff.

I've been reading a lot lately about minimalism. Becoming a minimalist is described as this:

"It's simply getting rid of things you do not use or need, leaving an uncluttered, simple environment and an uncluttered, simple life. It’s living without an obsession with material things or an obsession with doing everything and doing too much. It’s using simple tools, having a simple wardrobe, carrying little and living lightly."

There is also a great deal of talk about "simple living", which some people say is the same as minimalism, some people disagree. I think it doesn't really matter. You shouldn't live your lifestyle according to labels and titles. 

If you are removing clutter from your house, buying as few material goods as possible, living as self-sustainingly (is that a word?) as possible, yet you take a holiday to an all-inclusive resort, leave a huge carbon footprint, drink yourself silly and buy ridiculous souviners once a year can you call yourself a minimalist? I say, "Sure why not?" We all have different ways to relax and let loose. It's what you do for the rest of your year that counts. 

I consider myself a transitioning minimalist. I've always had a simple wardrobe, I've never had more than two pair of sneakers at a time, I can't tell you the last time I bought dress-shoes ( I'm dead serious....it's been maybe 20 years? I don't wear dress shoes. Or dresses.) I love shopping at thrift stores. My furniture is replaced only when it gets too worn. My carpets are "vintage"....ha, read: "original". I don't feel the need for brand name items. I don't want new stuff if the old stuff is still good.

Although before I eschew all brand name items, I will say that quality over quantity sometimes trumps not buying expensive shit. I spent a ridiculous (for me) amount of money on a pair of good, brand name summer sandals, but they've lasted me over five years so far. They've walked the Malecon in Havana, beaches in Mexico, been inside a giant Redwood in California, tiptoed through sea-lion shit on the Oregon Coast and most recently, wandered through Machu Picchu. Worth every penny. I don't need to have the new, the, trendy type of sandal every summer. I like to look at my worn soles and think of the places they've been.

However, before I start to sound too sanctimonious, let me assure you that this isn't the way I've always been. I used to like stuff, and I wanted stuff. My parents were such minimalists that I suppose I rebelled by being the opposite. As a result, I have shitloads of stuff even though I'm not a "purchaser". I guess I'd have to call myself more of a "saver". I hang on to stuff. Not in a hoarder sort of way though, let's be clear  about that! 

So now I have decided to start getting rid of stuff. That's where the "transitioning" part comes Into play. And I've gotta say, it's not that easy. Well, it's easy once you get started, it's the Getting Started that's hard.

I find it best to do when I'm in a bad mood. It's therepeutic to rip into a closet or spare room while cursing under your breath "Fucking  shit. Look at all this fucking shit.  Garbage. What the hell do I need this crap for??" If you have a big green garbage bag in your hands, it makes it that much easier. Just grab & toss, grab & toss. Don't think....just grab & toss. Haven't worn it in two years? Grab & toss. Keepin it "just in case"? Grab & toss. Ugly gift you don't like? You know what to do.....

Books were the hardest. Anyone who knows me knows that I only want to read. That's all I want to do. (Well, travel too. Read and travel.) I spent an exciting afternoon last winter counting my books. Boxes in closets. Boxes under the stairwell. Boxes under beds. Books shelves inside closets. Dresser drawers full of book because I don't buy clothes. I had well over 1,500 books. Literally. It was very hard to cull them. And I say "cull" because that's what it was like for me. I think I now have about 400 or so, maybe less, and they're all important to me. I'm not at that stage yet (probably never) where I can give up all my books.

As a result I have a spare room chock full of stuff to recycle/take to dump/drop off at a thrift store. Lots of it is Good Stuff. New Stuff. Some Expensive Stuff.  And you know what? I feel fantabulous!  I feel lighter and I want to get rid of more! It's addictive, this cleansing business. I feel happy going downtown and seeing all the stuff for sale and truely not wanting any of it. But I still appreciate looking at stuff. I enjoy browsing through clothes, and going to the jewellery store and looking at sparkly things, I love furniture stores. And oddly enough, for a woman who dispises the thought of weddings. I could spend a whole day looking at weddiing gowns. if you ever want someone to watch you model wedding gowns, I'm your girl! But I genuinely don't want to buy any of it. I'm genuinely happy just to look. And that's really true. And it makes me so happy that I feel that way. 

Then we need to talk about recycling and being more self-sustainable and earth friendly. Yikes, that's a whole other ball game, and I'm slowly learning to play. You really have to choose your battles here though, you can't do it all. At least I can't. Plastic water bottles. Who actually spends money to buy water when it's 2 feet away from you in your tap...and it's free?! Ummmm.....me. I do. I know I shouldn't, and I try to at least buy it from local companies and as seldom as possible and I recycle the bottles again and again. We rinse out and refill each bottle quite a few times, probably enough times so that deadly chemicals have leached through and are coursing through my body. And then we do this:

And we do this:

And we even do this:

Well, ok, no. No, we don't do any of those things. But I might someday. Meanwhile, I do recycle the bottles, and I do use my own cloth bags for shopping and try to buy as much GMO free food, and HFCS free food as I can. I try to walk instead of drive when possible. I try to buy bulk and I try to buy items without excess plastic packaging. I try to conserve water. I could do so much more, but I'm trying.

So while I still have a ton of stuff to get rid of, and many eco-lessons to learn, I'm slowly getting there. I saw a picture the other day of a passport and the caption was: "I'd rather have a passport full of stamps than a house full of things"  and that is my new mantra.

It's "Dominion" Day, dammit.

Feeling a bit on the patriotic side today, it being Dominion Day and all.....

Why is it called Dominion Day? Here's why: It's the day that Canada became a dominion,  July 1, 1867, so the day is called Dominion Day to commemorate the formation of Canada as a dominion. Pretty straightforward, no?

What actually is a dominion? According to Webster's:

Dominion : a country that was part of the British Empire but had its own government.

There are other definitions as well, but that's the one that defined the Dominion of Canada. And still does, for that matter.

So why the change from a name that defines what our country is, to the bland and everyday Canada Day?  Here's why: (I didn't write the following, it's from a newspaper column)

"It was a case of identity theft, an act of historical vandalism. A quarter-century ago, 13 members of Parliament hastily -- some say indecently -- renamed the country's national birthday in a swift bit of legislative sleight-of-hand.

At 4 o'clock on Friday, July 9, 1982, the House of Commons was almost empty. The 13 parliamentarians taking up space in the 282-seat chamber were, by most accounts, half asleep as they began Private Members' Hour. But then one of the more wakeful Liberals noticed the Tory MPs were slow to arrive in the chamber. Someone -- exactly who has never been firmly identified -- remembered Bill C-201, a private member's bill from Hal Herbert, the Liberal MP from Vaudreuil, that had been gathering dust ever since it had received first reading in May of 1980. "An Act to Amend the Holidays Act" proposed to change the name of the July 1 national holiday from "Dominion Day" to "Canada Day."

In other words, out of 282 seats, only 13 people were there and they quickly decided to pass a law...without even having the legal amount of people there! What?

This wasn't the first time the change had been attempted. Between 1946 and 1982, there were some 30 attempts to push such revisionist legislation through the House of Commons. But there was always enough opposition to hold the postmodern crowd at bay. On this July afternoon, however, MPs seized the opportunity to rewrite history with all the haste of a shoplifter. Deputy Speaker Lloyd Francis called up the languishing legislation and, faster than you can say patronage appointment, sped it through to third reading without much more than a querulous murmur from the attendant parliamentarians. Tory Senator Walter Baker barely managed a befuddled query of "What is going on?" before Francis inquired whether the bill had unanimous consent. Somehow, according to Hansard, it did, despite Baker's apparent opposition. He later referred to Canada Day as "sterile, neutral, dull and somewhat plastic."

The whole process took five minutes. The MPs celebrated by declaring an early end to session at 4:05 p.m. "It is only appropriate that, in celebrating our new holiday called Canada Day, we should at least take a holiday of 55 minutes this afternoon," said New Democrat Mark Rose.

Such insouciance toward a long-held tradition was typical. The bill should never have been brought to a vote. At least 20 MPs were required to be in the House to conduct business. With only 13 members in the House that afternoon, there was no quorum to pass legislation.

- ot that Speaker Jeanne Sauve was troubled. When the procedural irregularity was brought to her attention, she said that since no one called a quorum count, a quorum was deemed to exist, and, ergo, no procedural rules were violated.

Can you imagine if the US government sneakily changed Independance Day to USA Day? Americans would revolt! But sadly, complacent Canadians don't care. There are movements to bring back Dominion Day, and I refuse to call it Canada Day, but we are a dying breed.

I know it's just a name, but it's an important name. And now people are wanting to change it to the closest Friday or Monday so they can enjoy a long weekend.  Eeeeek! 

However, any patriotism is better than none. We can still be proud Canadians without a government to tell us how to do it, or what to say. So, happy Dominion Day and may your thumbs not get blown off by a firecracker.

My Mother's Things.

I am desperately trying to become a minimalist and I am having a fair amount of success actually. The hardest things to get rid of, for me, are books and Xmas wrapping paper (I know....) It has never even occurred to me, in my wildest dreams, to get rid of any of my mothers things. However, today I decided that it's time. My mom died almost 18 years ago and I can hardly believe it. It aches like yesterday.

But anyhow, I have almost a dozen pairs of her shoes, some brand new, that don't even fit me. I couldn't get rid of them before because they seemed so much a part of her. (Plus they are super expensive) She loved to walk and explore her surroundings and I couldn't bear to have someone else's feet in her shoes, walking through dirt and dust and not being my mom, nor could I throw them away. So they sat in my closet for the last 17 years. I looked at them now and then and tried them on and sometimes even wore a pair when walking wasn't on the agenda (weddings, dinners and yes, funerals). But today is the day. I actually feel sick to my stomach, but I am taking them to the thrift store. Most of them. I'm keeping a brand new pair of Bass Saddle shoes and a nifty vintage dressy pair. And some Italian sandals that do fit. But that's all. And maybe the pumps...no, no the pumps. Maybe the...no....no more. Enough. 

And the loafers, can't forget the loafers.

Her jewelry of course stays, it's not expensive but she loved to scour the thrift stores and second hand stores and find brooches and pins, she had really eclectic taste and I love to wear her finds.

I also have her totally awesome trench coat that I've been wearing around the house today. Collar up. Belt tied. Very Mata Hari. Put my hand in the pocket and felt the crunch of paper....a secret note? An assignment? No, just a tiny shopping list that sort of broke my heart.  A dinner never made. 

My mom embroidered me this gnome when I was about 14 years old....hmmmm....did she have a premonition of who I'd marry? (Cause for those that don't know my husband....he kinda looks like this!)

Anyhow. Off to the thrift place before I change my mind. 

The Introvert and the Telephone.

I'm feeling really quite normal tonight. That is to say, I'm feeling very normal about my abnormalities. I know I'm an introvert, but I never truly realized what an introvert was. Another term for "shy"  I thought.

But I now know that they are two entirely different things, and my dislike of telephones fits right into the former. So I'm normally abnormal! Let me explain.

 

I completed the 200 question Meyer-Briggs test, as well as the C Jung humanetrics test and also a psychology test from a certain clinic. I'm assuredly an introvert. And that is no surpise to me.

My score was 12. Yikes.

This one? 100% introvert. Eek.

This test was a bit less professional, but it was based on Meyer Briggs, and I was still 85% introverted.

And this was my snapshot, which told me nothing I didn't already know, but it might explain to others who I am. And why I didn't show up for your wedding shower, bridal shower, baby shower, dinner party, possibly your actual wedding, your Tupperware and other home based party get-togethers.  It's not shyness, it's not rudeness, it's not any type of agoraphobia. Its just extremely stressful for me.

The amount of women who score an 8 is 0.8%. Most women are apparently more social than I am.

An introverted person is not lonely or sad or depressed. We love who we are. We're just not you.

Here's a good definition of an introvert:

 Opposite of extrovert. A person who is energized by spending time alone. Often found in their homes, libraries, quiet parks that not many people know about, or other secluded places, introverts like to think and be alone. 

Contrary to popular belief, not all introverts are shy. Some may have great social lives and love talking to their friends but just need some time to be alone to "recharge" afterwards. The word "Introvert" has negative connotations that need to be destroyed. Introverts are simply misunderstood because the majority of the population consists of extroverts.

And this is how we are at parties, and when I read this, I saw myself in every single statement. I've been known to take over bar tending at a wedding. I've curled up with the family pet. (On a couch, not in a doghouse or something....I'm not a freak.) I abhor small talk. 

• Zoning out
• Sudden quietness
• A desire to leave even though the event/party is just getting started
• Irritability
• A desire to stick closely to familiar people
• An intense interest in books or art in the room
• Special attention given to the house pet
• A desire to perform activities that don’t require conversation (i.e. helping to clean, serve, DJ, take photographs, etc.)
• Unwillingness to indulge in small talk.

Oh my god, the cartoon below even looks like me.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room. The telephone. I hate it. You know I hate it. This is how I feel when it rings:

And it's one of the most prominent traits of a severe introvert.

I find that the telephone is intrusive, especially for introverts, whose brains don’t switch gears all that quickly. When we’re deep in thought, a ringing telephone is like a shrieking alarm clock in the morning. And we often give bad phone—awkward, with pauses. We struggle without visual cues, and our tendency to ponder before we talk doesn’t play well on the telephone. Being stuck on a too-long call makes me want to chew off my own leg to escape. 

There were three people in my life that I could have long, enjoyable phone chats with. One was my mom, so now there are two. My friend, whom I adore, lives on the other side of the province and I don't see her enough. But, she gets me. I think she is like me. We can talk for hours, and we have, and we can travel together and share a room, and it's wonderful. We can be together 24 hours a day, and it's fine. There is a third one in our trio, but she's not a phone talker either. Which is why we travel so well together too, I guess. I have other friends who I love dearly, but to my dismay, I just can't do the phone thing with them....much as I sometimes feel guilty about it. Or if I do, I generally need to be the one to initiate the call.

The other is my son, who is as much of an extrovert as I am an introvert, but we are of the same blood and our phone conversations just work. They just do.

I see people with cell  phones pressed to their ears, chattering and chattering and chattering. What on earth do they find to talk about? I’m incapable of stringing that many words together at one time. Sometimes, I can’t even finish my own sentences, losing interest halfway through and trailing off. (Much to my husband’s irritation). 

I've always been a letter writer, and at first I found email almost as intrusive as a phone....it's too instant, but I've grown accustomed to it, however, don't expect an instant answer. I need to form a reply slowly.

So there you go.  Yes, let's unite indeed! No RSVP needed.

Oh yeah, I'm totes the Phrase & Slang Nazi.

"I love you to the moon and back." I dislike that expression almost as much as I dislike it when people call their pets their "fur-babies". 

It seems to me that people can't use their own minds anymore, to say what they mean. Both in a politically correct manner as well as in a descriptive manner. There are more and more expressions and phrases that I hear day in and day out that drive me crazy.

I understand that language evolves, and that new words are added to any live language quite frequently. I get that we don't speak a dead language like Latin anymore (est enfelix) and I know that young folks need to have their own lexicon...it's part of being young. As well as the fact that humans are social animals who like to imitate each other...."if that person, whom I admire so much, says/does/eats/talks that way, then if I  do it too, well then, I'll be as wonderful and admired as I think they are! And as cool, and trendy and with-it."

But, there is a limit to what I can handle, and luckily I have this platform where I can voice my feelings.

So here are 25 phrases and words that I heartily dislike.

1. My bad. Your bad what? Your bad kid? Your bad back? What? Finish your sentence.

2. No offense, but.... It's as if people think they get a free pass for being offensive if they begin their comment with those three words.  

3.It is what it is. Yes, I know that. You don't have to tell me. If that's indeed what it is, then don't be redundant. 

4.Don't go there...Don't go where? If there's something you don't want to discuss, then tell me what it is. And you'd better not be giving me the "hand flap" while you say it. Double annoyance.

5.His head literally exploded. Or any use of the word "literally" used in the wrong way. I might literally spit in your eye if I hear you use it incorrectly. Which brings me to:

6. Irregardless. Just look it up.

7.I just threw-up a little in my mouth. That might have been funny and a bit shocking when Monica said it in "Friends" fifteen years ago, but it's just annoying now. And speaking of....

8.I just peed a little. See above.

9.Put on your big girl/big boy panties/undies. I find that condescending.

10. Baby Daddy. You're not from an inner city ghetto. Don't talk like it. 

11. Push Present. As in a gift from your partner for having a baby. "Look at the fantastic ring my husband got me as a push present for birthing this baby." Every time I hear someone say that I throw up a little in my mouth.

12. Awwwwkward. Said in that long drawn out tone. You sound like an idiot.

13. Years young. As in "Myrtle is 79 years young." It's not cute. What's more, it's not true. She is 79 years old. And what's even more....she knows that. You don't hear kids saying "Hey, I'm 10 years young today" 

14. Really? Really? Said twice, eyes large, in combination of sarcasm and disbelief, said when things are really quite believable, as in a poor play in a sports game and a fan will turn to strangers and say "Really? Really?"  That goes hand in hand with:

15. Seriously? Are you kidding me right now? I always want to say "No, I'm not kidding you right now. I'll be kidding you later, and I've kidded you before, but right now? Not at all"

16.Totes. Adorbs. Delish. Peeps. Obvi. Ridic. Convo. Vacay. I'm curious as to what youre going to do with all the time you save by not finishing your words. Either that, or are you two years old and haven't learned the correct pronounciation yet? Try talking to your boss this way. "Hey, I think it's obvi that I totes need a vaycay." Or your Doctor. "Hey, my peeps told me I  should have a convo with you about this ridic mole. Personally, I find it totes adorbs." "Whaaaaat? It's cancer? Seriously, are you kidding me right now?" 

17. Cray-cray. Almost goes with #16, but it's so annoying that it needs a number of its own.

18. First world problems. I've written about this particular phrase before. Search for it.

19.Nuff said. Enough said.

20.Passed. As in "Mr. Single suddenly passed". Passed what? Passed a test? Passed gas? Passed a kidney stone? Passed me on the street?  Oh...he died? Ooh. Aaaaaakward.

21.Of. Well, this is more of a grammatical error, and I shouldn't judge, but I do. I hate when people say things like "I might of watched too much TV" Excuse me, you might have watched too much TV. It's not "I might of bought the wrong size." You might have bought the wrong size.

22. Hash tags. I can't even discuss them. The worst is #yolo. Yolo is bad enough, but with a hashtag in front...well, I could totes slap you.

23.Much.  Used in asking a question, in a snarky manner. "Jealous much?" ("Snarky" Yikes, I'll bet there are people out there who hate that word)

24. Blessed. Well, this is a tough one because some folks really believe that they are blessed. I don't like the thought that your god blesses some folks and not others. I'm not going to discuss my lack of belief here, but everyone sure seems to feel blessed these days....it's one of the most overused and cliched expressions out there...so tell me why you think you're blessed and not all the others...,you know who I mean...the poor, the sick, the impoverished and on and on and on.  If you've moved into a new home, or have a lovely family sitting around your dinner table....why do you feel the need to tell us that you think your god has blessed you with that whilst he has forsaken others? 

25. Any and all New Age-y touchy feely stuff. 

However....there are words that are overused that I like, and probably overuse myself. Three of my particular favorites are:

1. Amazeballs. For some reason that word amuses me to no end.

2. Adorable. Its just such an adorable word, it conjures up cuddly and sweet and cozy and warm. 

3. "I'm not a fan of...."(insert word of choice, like cailiflower or The Vancouver Canucks)

Apparently people really dont like that phrase, and I don't understand why.   I think not being a fan of something is a nice, gentle way to explain why you hate/dislike cauliflower. Or the Vancouver Canucks.

I'm going to add awesome to my list because I do use it a lot, but I try to use it in the Webster's Dictionary kind of way: inspiring, an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, awe or fear. I can't say I always use it correctly, the other day I called the garbage man awesome because he backed his truck up so that I didn't have to walk down the street to meet him.  Machu Picchu was awesome, the city garbage truck...not so much. 

I tried to find out what new words and phrases are upcoming so that I could use them first.  These four seem to be becoming popular. 

1.Buttcrutch. Chair or any place to sit. "Grab a Buttcrutch and let's chat."

2. Squee. An expression of joy. I hate it already. " OMG, The new Housewives of Whatever City starts this week, squeeeee!"

3. Jumpy-claps. An even bigger expression of joy. "OMG. The new Housewives of Whatever City starts this week, squee.....jumpy-claps!!!"

4. Omnishambles. Ok, I'll admit I love this one. When a series of disasters happens. "We went on our vacation....everything went wrong, it was an omnishambles."  

So now that I've made myself sound pretentious, I'll let you decide what words and phrases you want to use. The most important thing this, use the words that you enjoy and that make you happy. Just remember, the pen really can be mightier than the sword, so use your words with care.

So, if you  want to use tired old phrases....you go right ahead. Just, please, don't use them simply because everyone else does...just because a Kardashian or a Jayzee or a Beyonce or (insert any rap artist/reality star) does...doesn't mean you should. (Unless its  Angelina Jolie. She can do no wrong. Excuse me? I said no wrong.) 

As for me, imma start using words from the 20's and 30's.  And if you don't like it, well, don't cast a kitten, just use your getaway sticks and skedaddle.

Calgary Getaway.

We had to go to Calgary in January...the dreaded month for travel. You just never know what Mother Nature is going to spring upon you, and I was pretty nervous before we left, especially since we seemed to be having much more snow than usual. I packed extra mitts, touques, scarves and sweaters. A cooler with water, Gatorade, peanut butter sandwiches, chocolate and fruit. Blankets. Pillows. A lighter to start a fire. Books. A journal. After all, we were going through Banff....a person could skitter right over a cliff and not be found until spring. It could happen. And if I should go over, I'm determined to still be there when the snow melts. Alive, that is.

Weather was great and we got there in the usual amount of time. But it never hurts to be prepared.

Gas was amazingly cheap in the city. It was $1.06 a liter when we left home, but in Calgary it was this:

The next day, the same gas station had it at 76.9. I didn't think I'd ever see gas less than $1.00 a liter in my my lifetime, never mind this much less than a buck. We happily filled the tank.

We got to our hotel, and settled in.  Steven was there for a test that required fasting, so we couldn't go for dinner. My peanut butter emergency ration sandwich and snacks came in handy after all, she said smugly. Plus, the weather had decided to turn around and snow...and snow and snow some more. We had travelled at a perfect time to miss the downfall. And it was ok because it was the evening of the WORLD JUNIOR GOLD MEDAL HOCKEY GAME!!! As IF we would be going anywhere else but in front of a TV. Canada vs Russia...once again, a bitter rivalry. For my US and Aussie friends who are reading this, Canada won. After, it is our game. We  sent the American team home last week, and that's another bitter rivalry. There are no friends in hockey. 

Any TV is ok in a pinch, but we recorded it at home so Steven could rewatch in crispy-clear detail.

So, he had his test Tuesday and we went for a light dinner since he had to fast again the next day for another test, and was only supposed to eat light. But after that days test, he was allowed to eat normally again. We planned all day on where to go. 

We stumbled across a little hole-in-the-wall rib joint that smelled sooooo good. It only had about 12 small tables and a tiny bar that had about 6 barstools around it. Some sort of zydeco music was playing, and if I wasn't standing in a foot of snow in -21 degree weather, I'd have though I was in New Orleans.

Who can resist slow roasted ribs? Not Steven. So we stepped inside....I knew right away it was my kinda place, clean but worn tablecloths, wooden floors, warm and cozy, a blues-y feel.

So, I didn't order ribs (I know, I know) but Steven did. 

I have to tell a back story for a second:

Last week we were watching Family Feud and one of the questions was "Name a food that is shaped like a ball." One of the answers was "hush-puppies", and Steven asked me what they were. I told him, and it occurred to me that I'd never had a hush-puppy, and I felt a bit sad. 

Then, a day later, I was watching a movie "Beasts of the Southern Wild" and the main character, a little girl, was  named Hush Puppy.

So, then, when I saw "smoked chicken breast and hush-puppies" on the menu....well, it was a no-brainer.

And, ohhhhh....so good. The baked beans were homemade, with molasses and bacon, the coleslaw had the celery seed/mustard/ vinaigrette dressing, the "real" kind, not that mayonnaise slop that is every where these days. This stuff was like the kind that Stevens dad used to make. The chicken was tender and moist inside, sticky and smokey on the outside. And I think the maple syrup for the hush-puppies was the real stuff. It was one of the better meals I've had in a long time.

The place filled up in no time and there was a line of people waiting to get in. I figured we should hurry and let our table go to some other starving soul so I decided to have a slice of bourbon pecan pie instead.

Our server brought two spoons and extra ice cream. All I can say is...mmmmmm.

Our waitress told us that everything, including the sauces, breads and beans are all homemade from scratch, and the meats are all slow roasted (there was brisket and beef ribs too). So if you have eaten here and happen to know that it all comes from Costco....don't tell me, and I won't believe you anyhow. Let me live in my foodie-fantasy world.

Next day we headed home. The weather was gorgeous for traveling, leaving the city looked like this:

Driving through Banff and area looked like this:

But at the summit of the park, and into Radium, the radio was playing "a hazy shade of winter", which was appropriate as the weather turned to this:

We pretty much were alone on the highway, so we could travel at a speed comfortable to us, and soon we spotted our good old Canadian standby, pulled in and had this:

 

We filled up with Timmy's classic soup, coffee and maple Danish, headed home, and that was that. You take your holiday when you can, and make the best of any situation.  Happy New Year!