Just Can't Fix Stupid!

This is a follow up to a blog I did about a month and a half ago about a major (as they say) Department Store processing and mailing me a check (or up on Yonge Street that would be cheque) for one penny.

At the time it did remind me of the old joke where the person takes a check for one penny into the bank to cash and the teller asks him if he wants it "heads or tails".

Now, the one cent represented an overpayment from Hubby guessing the upcoming bill when paying online. A credit of one penny would have been just fine.

Hubby suggested ripping it up, but well, I don't do anything that simply . . . you know that.

Seems like I took it to the credit union and they said they could not process it. So, today, Hubby was going to the ATM with a government check for me and I suggested he add the penny check with it. He was going to a fancy new-style ATM where you insert the check into the machine. (Over my dead body, isn't that what Charlton Heston said?) I have a policy with bank machines and it is simply, that if the machine is giving me money - okay. But me give the machine money . . . oh, no . . .

So, the machine took the government cheque (ah yes, check) and that went well. Then Hubby deposted the one penny check and the machine didn't not want to do business with him.

So, Hubby had to go into the Lobby of the bank (yes, you folks up on Yonge, that is what they call it when you go inside the bank here) and hands the check for one penny to a live teller who hands him a penny.

"Does this happen very often?" (Hubby)

"Yes, all the time." (Teller)

Oh, man . . . and how much does it cost to mail that check? And how much does it cost to process it? Why does the store not just put the one penny toward the person's account as a credit?

Is this the mentality in the business world now?

We thought it was bad when they would centralize a company and then a few years later de-centralize it!

Well, now, since they are sending checks for one cent or de one cent - I guess they have de-sensed their company!

Sorry . . . just could not pass that one up, folks!

Oh, yes, since I am feeling a little like saying this,

If you are still wondering what company would do this . . . well, it is a large department store chain that rhymes with . . . not cent . . . but penny.

Yup, the same chain that back in 1977 in Miami, Florida, would not accept a Visa card from a Canadian couple trying to do a little Christmas shopping.

Christmas - Perhaps The Hardest Time Of The Year . . .

Christmas season, which should be the most beautiful time of the year, is probably the most difficult. Everything is accentuated. There are more things to do and more money to be spent.

Each group you belong to seems to have a dinner or get-together of some kind. Some of us still send cards so they have to be written. There are presents to be bought and then wrapped.

When I was a young girl - you know where I was (up in Toronto) - we had an aunt who used to climb up the steps and ring the bell. Mother would answer and the aunt E would shove three packages at her and say,

"We are just on our way to the West End."

Mother would ask Aunt E to wait and go fetch two packages for them and hand them to her. They never came in to visit.

Every year, Mother would be upset over this and then my Father suggested that she just say,

"Merry Christmas" and let the aunt go back down the stairs empty-handed if they did not want to visit with us.

Over the years I have thought about this and all the things some people do at this time of the year to truly spoil it.

One of the grandchildren quickly learned that I keep a basket of "generic" gifts for someone who might stop by during the holidays. I always have chips and dips, cookies and candies and all of those fattening things people like to eat. That's just in case someone would like to visit.

Our Christmas is centered around Christmas Eve Church service. Here it is at 7:00 p.m. Up north it was at 11:00 p.m.

Every year I enjoy seeing all the families home at Christmas time. Since I have been here 14 years, I have watched many of them grow into adults.

I love the music, the candles and especially singing Silent Night by candlelight. I think of how many people in how many places (including foxholes in war zones) have sung this beautiful carol in many languages.

We have a huge tree at church and there is a creche beside it. Actually, this year, we have a creche hand made by our Pastor. When I look at that cradle, I cannot help but think of that young couple who could not find a place to stay when the Baby Jesus was born. What a time they had on their way to being counted for the tax system . . .

The birth of our Lord is the one story we learned from when we first attended church. People who were not raised in the Christian faith still know who Jesus Christ was and they do know about Christmas.

So, if Christmas is so fundamental and so many people know about it and everyone likes to celebrate it, why is it a time when so many people have such a sad time?

This is the season when there are more deaths suicides, more accidents, and more fires. Many people are depressed - especially those who have lost loved ones during the year.

It is a time when we want things to be "perfect" but that is just the problem. There is no planned perfect. We can only do our best to have things as nice as possible for people to come and visit and enjoy them while they are with us. (Just ask all the brides who planned all those weddings we attended this past year how much planning an event takes!)

Once you are older, you start to realize what "perfect" is. Perfection is very rarely planned.

I guess for me, "perfect" are the moments I think about from all the years that can bring a smile or maybe a tear as well. The older I get, the less I think about in terms of "perfect". I think about how intense some moments were and how I just never forgot.

I think about my friend, B, and her Louisiana accent when she used to kid about, "The bright city lights" . . . and she could string that line so it became a paragraph. That still brings a smile to my face.

I think about my Grandmother who made her delicious cookies - you already know about those!

I think about my son, Robbie who was born before Christmas and died just after. Since that is 44 years ago, had he lived, he would have long ago had children of his own. I do not even have one photo of that child. I just have the image of him in my head. That makes me so sad, still, all these years later.

I think about Shih Tzu puppies playing with the cardboard cores from wrapping paper. (I think if I look hard enough I might have a photo or film of that.) There is so much fun - once you know they are healthy and progressing as they should - with a litter at playtime. I used to give them about 30 minutes in the evening to run lose in the family room. The humans had as much fun as the puppies.

I think about the year my husband, John was so ill and how he had pneumonia. I remember when they told me there was nothing more could be done and I went to the York Super Pharmacy and bought a jar of Metholatum. I took it back to his bed and put some just below his nostrils in hopes he could breathe a little better. Then I went home in the dark ice and snow and drove too fast up the driveway. (That would be the dent we hammered out before we sold the house.) That was the year my neighbour, Brianne put the decorations on a little tree for me. They had been stored in a little pink tote box. Then, on New Year's Eve, the day John died, Brianne's mother placed those decorations back in the pink tote.

To be honest, I think for me there are as many sad memories from the holidays as happy ones.

This year, I have two friends who have lost their husbands this year. (I know what that is like and how blessed I am to have found life again and married Hubby.) I think about the hospices and mortuaries here who have special services to help those survivors. Those are very special!

Right now, we are putting the finishing touches on my sister-in-law's Christmas box. She has had a hard time this year, especially adjusting to losing her eyesight.

We had the perfect present, and Hubby set it up and it was ready to go about a month ago. But you know, since 9/11, we have to think different, and it might not get there if the postman juggles the box and it says,

"9:45 p.m. . . . 37 degrees."

Yes, it would have been down that low because my sister-in-law - actually, the sister I never had - lives in Cleveland where the weather is much like it is up on Yonge Street. So, we will take the talking clock when we visit her next in the spring or summer!

So we found her something else that talks . . . on a CD.

When we have such high expectations for an event, it puts major pressure on us. Perhaps we should just do our best - have a little food ready - have a few gifts on hand.

I hope some very nice people drop by your house this year and make smiling memories with you!

As the jolly rotund fellow says,

"Merry Christmas to All . . . and to All a Goodnight!"

Being Nice To Everyone - Is There An App For That?

BFF, originally uploaded by Ronaldo F Cabuhat.

This morning I read a column by a woman I have not read before. Although I did not care for her epitaph to Elizabeth Edwards nor her picky comment about John Edwards' white shirts being too large, it did trigger some thoughts.

Have we come so far, technologically that we are now robots rather than humans?

People do things for various reasons. In the case of Elizabeth Edwards, I believe she led with her heart. (My own father used to say I wore my heart on my sleeve and he warned me about that till he died when I was 22.)

I did not know Elizabeth Edwards personally but I did know my old friend, Belinda very well. She lived to reach out to others, to make the other person feel good about themselves. She always wanted to stop and sit down with the person who was not doing so well. She was as close as it has come in my life to knowing an angel here on earth. She also died much too young and I miss her every day. (Her husband always calls me "Belinda's old friend" so I have to think that B used to tell others about her "old friend". ) We are very lucky if we have such friends in our life: non-judgmental, listening, reaching out . . . special.

Each of us is only a small part of this huge universe. If we live in the Big City (as I did in Toronto), we quickly learn that we have to get along with all kinds of people - from many walks of life, many religions, many races. Where I live now, there is not that diversity and so there are not perhaps as many ways of looking at life.

Each person counts. No matter whether you practice Christianity or some other mantra, if you sit back for a moment, you can see that.

If we were all the same, life would be very boring and in fact, there would not be much to talk to any other people about.

It is fundamental to respect other people. We don't have to agree with how they live; how they do things or what they believe. We just have to respect their right to live as they wish.

We seem to have a generation now in their late teens and twenties who feel us older folks are simply technologically challenged and unable to "get it".

Our grandparents made Canada and United States. Yes, with their hands, they toiled the soil; worked five and a half days a week; helped those less fortunate and still made time to sit down with their children at a dinner table groaning with homemade food.

There is no application (app) on your cell phone or ipad to truly connect with other human beings and their feelings.

Generations before me have thought this way and I hope generations following me will come to the realization that we must reach out to other. When we sit down and give some time to those who may be different from us, we always learn. We always benefit. We always come away feeling good about ourselves and leaving them feeling good about themselves.

It is extremely hard to understand the harassment - or bullying as they are calling it today - that is going on particularly among students.

In our area, we just lost another student to suicide this past week. How bad is that? How bad is it when my young friend on Facebook posts that this was his worst day ever?

We are only young once and it should be a great time for learning, for experiencing, for making memories that last a lifetime - and I mean GOOD memories.

Let us not judge the other person lest we be judged. (I know that has been said many places, but I am saying it today.)

Let us live and let live - again, as we used to say - and have respect for every other person to have their own ideas, their own ways of doing things.

Most of all, let us be kind to everyone - because everyone has something that is troubling them. Everyone has something they don't like about themselves. Let us not remind others of their weaknesses but encourage their fine qualities.

Let us respect all human beings. Let us remember that everyone struggles with something.

The attractive people - like John Edwards - struggle with their magnetism just as those of us with weight problems struggle with food addictions.

In high school - a girl's school - I admired several girls who were (or so I thought) prettier, smarter and trimmer than I. One girl I really felt had it all married her sweetheart who also seemed to have it all. They made the perfect couple, didn't they? Yes, perfect enough that when her sister died very young, to adopt her children into their own family and raise them as their own. All these years later, when I go back for reunions, that "girl" and I have a lot more in common than we ever had back in school.

Everyone has problems. We have them at different stages of our life.

Teaching children and friends to respect the other person helps them as much as anything else we can do for them.

. . . and there is no app for that!

Grandma's Shortbread . . . but that was in the 50s!

Homemade Shortbread Cookies, originally uploaded by mooshee85.

Mary Maude Bell Croome was her name and she was born in St.Mary's, Ontario, Canada in about 1872. She baked beautiful shortbread cookies. She only made them at Christmas time. I guess she thought they were a lot of work as well!

That was then and this is now.

Over the years, I have made the recipe and it never really comes out the same every time . . .

So, here I am in my lovely large and modern kitchen trying to replicate what Grandma did in a tiny kitchen in the High Park District of Toronto in the 50s.

We are having a Cookie Swap tomorrow at Scrapbooks & Memories running concurrent with our Scrapbooking Crop. The idea is that each of us bring some homemade recipes and a batch of the cookies. Now, I guess I was busy . . . or nervous about how well they would turn out, but here I am at the "midnight hour" with a kitchen in shambles and three cookie sheets of absolutely delicious homemade shortbread cookies.

Actually, they taste VERY good. Now, if I just adjust my printed recipe to reflect the oven temperature and put a few disclaimers about different ovens taking different times . . . I should be all right.

The other problem will be to clean up the kitchen which kind of looks like a tornado hit it. I used several cookie cutters, many spatulas, knives, three cookie sheets, a rolling pin, many knives, etc., etc. Yup, I used about 30 to 40 pieces of equipment for this project.

I knew there was a reason there are about three bakeries in town in addition to the supermarkets.

Necessity Is The Mother Of Invention

BUDDY, the Lhasa CAN LISTEN VERY WELL!

The longer I live, the simpler some things become. Bet you have not heard that too often from too many of your "elders"! (It is very true that many things become harder and the days seem shorter and energy is less.)

The other day, I found out that our granddaughter, Kyla was doing very well in school but is having trouble with reading.

As you might know, I have been a student of purebred dogs - and dogs generally - for about 39 years now. I have been seeing news on children reading to dogs to improve their reading skills.

Dogs are not judgmental and in fact, most of them are very sympathetic to their human's needs.

So, it was only minutes before I thought of writing some simple pieces for Kyla to read to her dog, Shiloh. Shiloh is a Labrador Retriever which makes her one of my favorite breeds for children. Labradors are fairly big but generally, they love children and are very patient with them.

When a child reads to their dog, the dog will just sit and listen. When a child reads to an adult, the adult often corrects them as they go. When a child reads in a classroom, well, now we are talking major scarey. All those people listening: it is like adults feel when they have to give a speech.

I thought about it and then took it one step further. I think there are lots of children who are trying to learn to read and it does not come easily. It is a major struggle. So, I thought,

"Hey, I could perhaps make it easier by doing a special blog for children to go to and read to their dogs." Most will likely print out the simple story and I envision their "Rover" listening to it over and over until the child is ready to read it to an adult.

I practice a little with our Buddy, but I can tell you that every dog I have had would sit down with me and listen while I talked or told a story. The right dog paired with a child will pay rapt attention to his or her young master.

This is a new and experimental project to me. I would appreciate your productive input and ideas you may have.

Happy reading, children and if you can read even some of this, you are on your way to being confident in your reading.

Reading skills help us every day in everything we do!

Happy Reading!

Link to Children's Reading Blog "Reading To Rover" is in the right column on this page or go to

http://Read-To-Rover.blogspot.com

Some Advice for Denise . . . And Other Parents of Teens On Being In The Know!

cookie monster texting on blackberry...?, originally uploaded by starrfall on Flickr

I know some people on Facebook might not be the same as lifelong friends, but it is nice to be connected to various people with differing views. It also lets me keep up with people very easily in these days when there is so much to do and social skills (and time) are not what we knew, say even 20 years ago.

Today, one of my friends, Denise, wrote a column in our paper about how her teens make her feel less than smart some of the time.

I like Denise although I don't know her well. I first met her when she was interviewing people coming out of the Charlie Wilson's War premier showing here. Charlie lived here and it was so fun that the theater at the mall was full of people who knew him.

Another time, Denise was at a park where we were releasing balloons for a charity.

She is a busy gal now that she does Charm Magazine, a weekly column and several articles each week, particularly for the Sunday edition.

Denise came here when her hubby was transferred by a department store chain and got on the local paper right away. It seemed a plum assignment that she got to go to Hollywood to cover the main premier of Charlie Wilson's War and meet Tom Hanks and be part of "the scene" even if only for a while. That assignment certainly bettered the ones I was given in a small Ontario town where I covered local township council every week and my stories included, "Is Your Water Safe" and another on a company who makes hood ornaments for cars. By the way, Denise, I was paid by the column inch. That's how old I am.

Ah, but I sat down to give Denise . . . and her counterparts a tip or two. These are the the mothers of those young people who seem to know so much more than we do. As I write this, it is shaping up to the format of, "Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus", but here goes, regardless.

You have a source, Denise - and all of you in your forties and fifties who think you are too old to be "hip"- to converse with your kids. Sorry, perhaps they don't use the word "hip" anymore, so perhaps you could start there.

"Well, Tonya, that sure is a really hip cell phone you have there . . . "

"Hip?"

"You know, very in, very with it! You don't know that word?"

Now, this is where you have to be REALLY careful, Denise and all. Do not proceed to say,

"Well, this is what we USED to say." See, there is the mistake we make. We must convey to the young people that, in fact we created these clever expressions and sayings.

Let me tell you how this worked for me last night at Catfish King. Yes, you Canadians up on Yonge Steet . . . it is sort of the Swiss Chalet of Fish.

A young lady was working the cash register, bringing out orders, replenishing the salad bar and filling the sugar and sweetener containers. Then I noticed - just about the time that we were leaving - that she was using a push broom to sweep the floor.

So, as I got up, I just had to say to her:

"Well, you are a Jackie of all trades?"

"Huh?"

"It actually is 'Jack of all trades' but I changed it because you are a girl."

"Huh?"

Now, this is the part I always hate:

"Well, since you are a girl, I changed it. It means you are doing a lot of different jobs. 'Jack of All Trades'."

"Oh, oh, that is very good. I like that!"

Of course, the expression really is,

"Jack of all trades, master of none", but you know that would get you nowhere today in an era of multi-tasking.

My grandmother had a few quaint sayings and you will have a few stored in your head from your own parents and grandparents.

How about,

"The world is crazy except me and thee; and sometimes I wonder about thee."

So, the method I am suggesting to you is so simple. You quote some of these old expressions you have known all these years, but you . . . and this is the hard part . . . you must not give credit to someone else. Make it seems like you created it and stand back for a few days to see if they make it their own and pass it on to their friends.

Now comes the disclaimer. Results are not guaranteed and what do I know? I do not have teenagers in my household.

Happy parenting in this world that is probably no stranger than my Grandmother thought it was when I was a teen!

Thinking About Yonge Street - Ian and Sylvia - Four Strong Winds (CBC TV 1986)

If I am feeling nostalgic, homesick, whatever it really is when you think about the past and where you came from, music might be part of the trip back.

[The video above courtesy You Tube includes the song YOU WERE ON MY MIND and the clip is from an Ian & Sylvia reunion concert in the 80s. All you have to do is click on the very left - or replay - and you will be able to hear this melodic duo.]

They began as Ian Tyson and Sylvia Fricker in the coffee houses that dotted Toronto's Yorkville District in the late 50s and early 60s. He was from British Columbia and she was from a small Ontario town. They married and lived in Toronto-Willowdale near Yonge & Sheppard for many years. Eventually, the marriage fell apart and Ian went to Alberta.

Yes, even people with a harmonious sound like this can grow apart and apparently that is exactly what happened.

I think about the coffee houses where we would go around 10 or 11 at night and pay a couple of bucks for a coffee upstairs in an old warehouse and listen to Ian and Sylvia before everybody Canadian and American knew them.

I have said before that one of Canada's greatest exports over the years has been entertainers. These two really stayed in Canada but their songs have been sung by artists all over the world. Ian was a very prolific writer but sometimes it was Sylvia who wrote.

One time at church, our then Pastor asked Hubby and me to sing Four Strong Winds . . . "I know you know it because it is Canadian"! I thought that was funny at the time but I think that Canadians do not realize how much of an impact they have had on American culture.

When I first came to Texas I was always delighted to see Canadians on TV but after a while I realized it was pretty common. (The reason Canadian entertainers come to United States is because the market is about ten times.)

I have kidded that Anne Murray is pretty much as Canadian as it gets, but Ian & Sylvia bring back fond memories and their songs have been sung by many other entertainers worldwide.

When we were in Toronto this summer, we came up from the West End where the wedding was, very carefully wending our way left and left and north up to see the house where I grew up. It still looks much the same even though there are a lot of "No Left Turn" Signs as you go.

One thing quite different is that the street is now paved. It used to be made of bricks, presumably so the horse drawing the milk wagon would have a surer grip.

Oh, you are so young that you never had your milk delivered? And there is no milkbox in your house now, is there? There was a little wooden box in the outside wall by the back door. It had two doors - one outside and one inside. You left your milk tickets and the milkman left your glass bottles of milk and perhaps some cream.

Hmm . . . the milkman is out of a job, and the horse not only is out of a job, he left the city . . .

Memories . . .