Meal In An Egg

If you're a single someone who doesn't like cooking or taking time to go to the trouble of fussing over a meal every day, try hard boiling up a half dozen eggs. That's the first step in this "recipe". When they are cool, peel them carefully and cut them in half, saving the yolks. Put all the yolks in a small bowl and mash them. Sprinkle with your favorite herbs. I love green onion, but finely diced sweet onion will do, too. I use a mayo as a base and make my own version of sandwich spread. I like my spread with a kick. In goes, Tabasco or my favorite, a sweet hot chili sauce. Toss in a good dollop of ketchup and your favorite kind of relish. Taste. Some tasters might like to add pepper or horse radish but hold the salt. Too much of it, doesn't help the body, and your other ingredients may have salt in them. You can always add some later if it's too bland for you. When you have a nice thick goop of egg yolk mixed with your sandwich spread, spoon a heaping glob of it into each egg white half. You can buy an inexpensive plastic holder for egg halves. I have fancy ones, but I prefer the quick-to -clean kind in cheap plastic. For every day, they're easy to handle and they clean up quickly under the tap with some soap. The dish of eggy delights will be housed in the fridge right where you can see them and enjoy the colour every time the door opens. When you finish your circle of "stuffed eggs", go hunting for what to pop into them. Today I had broccoli, carrots, snow peas and grape tomatoes on hand, but you can use bits of any veges you like - or fruit: a grape halved, pineapple, apple, pear, peach. They can be canned or fresh. Also, you can poke in some cheese or shrimp or meat. Have fun creating your very own every-day hors d'oeuvres. When you have finished playing and creating your beautiful food delicacies, put them in the fridge and don't bother to cover them up. They will dry out a little without covering, and be all the more delicious for snacking. Each little goody is loaded with healthfulness: egg, bits of fruit, vegetable or cheese or meat or seafood or all of the above. Who cares if the egg plate adds an exotic aroma in the fridge. If you are a single, you don't really have to worry  about what anyone else thinks. It's your fridge. When you are peckish, all you have to do it open your fridge, select an egg delight and pop it into your mouth. Or if you want to make a sandwich, mush it between two slices of bread, and voila. You have a tiny complete meal that tastes as good as it looks - and is wonderfully healthful.

Pitching Sales

What's a "sale"? I am told constantly by merchants what my "savings" are. They are printed in red  which turns out to be a good colour. The truth is, that the savings printed on the cash-out slip, are not savings at all. What the receipts really tell me is what I spent, not what I saved. Money you save is in your pocket or your bank account. And it stays there. It's not what's called "savings" in red, on the receipt. The truth about "sales" and "savings" is that once again, you've been drawn into the shopping game. It's one that, like gambling, makes you spend more that you planned to, but you leave thinking you have made money and you're happy as a result. The sellers make money, not you. When you go into a store that has a sale on, certainly, you might get a product at a cheaper price than usual, but when you leave the establishment, you probably spent more on the other "savings" that you saw in the store than you would have in paying the original planned budget price. You were lured into that outlet just as planned by the great demi-god, Sale.  The commercial ploys to get you to spend, are basically, a well studied cheat. While that word sounds too harsh, it is what it is. Many of the outlets for brand names will admit that they run cheaper lines that are copies of their top ones. They know that some shoppers don't care that the handbag they flaunt, isn't the real thing or the watch on their wrist has a logo that most people won't look too closely at. They're the targeted consumers who just love the game of pretending that they're as rich as Mr. T. or Paris Hilton or KK. And there's no sin in it. Speaking of which, when there is a giant sale such as Black Friday, the merchants don't lose money with the supposedly low price for the true quality item; they do it on huge volume. And advertising. Think about Black Friday nonsense happening this very day. Shoppers line up at ridiculously early hours, some even tenting out overnight on a sidewalk, to  scramble over each other, grabbing and buying items while the seller who ordered  a rail car load of this stuff, in the background, rubs two hands together in glee. No. There are no sales and no Black Fridays, wherever that idiocy came from. There is only you and your money and the wise, or not, spending of it.

Where Are The Dads?

This morning on the news report, I listened to heart-breaking reports about single mothers and their poverty issues. With hundreds of thousands of children in poverty in this province, a thriving one in spite of complaints, we should do better. But how? Why do we have so many single mothers? Where are the fathers? Why aren't they part of the scenario of parental responsibility? Is it perhaps too easy for fathers to simply walk away saying " it's not my fault". Ahem, it is fifty percent "your fault", dads. Because you don't have baby bumps, you do share equally in every way, of the full burden in rearing the child you fathered. Or have you forgotten? It is your child, your genetic future and your human contribution to society. Parenting, whether it's with two parents living under the same roof or not, is still parenting. For men, leaving a union with children, however it has evolved, remains a vital need that they assist in supporting their offspring, not only financially but also, emotionally. While a woman cannot walk away from the children she bears, usually, it's a lot easier for a male to just opt out of a union and take up a new life for himself, conveniently forgetting that his own genetic little person exists and needs him. I realize that, all too often, fathers are the single parents and have the same feelings of frustration and loss. And while this may be true, it's not common. Men make more money doing jobs that are not designed for women and their biological forms. Women who have to work at lower paying jobs that do not meet the family need for food, rent, child care and all the other issues in having children, stay home and live on inadequate government assistance. It's not enough, and this Christmas, while "normal" families are running around planning holidays and gifts, other families in poverty are wondering how they can explain to their kids why they can't. There are food banks and public housing, but it's never enough, and why not when we have billionaires floating about cavorting their indulgences on You Tube? There are enough dollars on earth so that no children have to go to bed without sugar plums dancing in their heads. And you fathers who forgot your children, think about it. 

Place Name Changes

I also have a tradition in my country and respect it as I do that of others who have been here much longer. All I know are the place names my pioneer grandparents knew as well as those of my parents. I remember those names more than I remember most of the places, and I want them to stay the same. But, I wholly recognise that there are aborigines who desire to keep their names of places also. I hope that we can respect each other in these matters. What I am looking forward to, is that we can both keep the names that are precious to us. I fully support the placing of additional names to places so that we can maintain the histories of what we both remember and our children will be able to, also. I look at the photographs in old albums that have names written under them, names that were written by my people who will one day, be my ancestors. When they arrived one hundred years ago, they came to Canada and tilled the soil to make it their new country. They were not bad people who did bad things, but just people who should be recognised and respected as much as anyone who lived or lives here in this country no matter how long ago. Lands don't belong to people, they are there for human use and pleasure. What we name land, doesn't really matter. It is personal, not political. I would not recognise strange names to places that I love if they were changed, and I hope that the wishes of both old and newer comers, will be satisfied. The natives and the new natives of Canada should be able to cooperate to show that we can work together and appreciate our histories that are not separate, but ones that grew from each other. I want to know the original names and what they stood for, good and bad. It's part of what we are. We want to remember the bad times, too,  so that we can understand them, and not repeat them. I call the mountains I see in Vancouver, BC, The Sisters but some call them The Lions. What does it matter? Both names are deserving of placement. The legends should live and I would like to see everywhere, the aboriginal names placed with the newer ones, because they make me want to hear the stories from which they originated. I also want to see in the dual names, how we have grown together by having both on the signs and carved memorials and tributes. It shows how we worked and work together to make Canada a unique place where all who live here, belong.

Apple Sandwiches

I used to love eating a crunchy apple but these days, it's hard to find them. Most apples have been sitting around in a market for some time. They're still tasty and useful and full of good nutritional value, especially if we don't cook all the vitamins out of them. We use apples in many ways: apple sauce, pie, muffins and baked. This morning I looked at the apple bowl and although I wanted to eat one raw, somehow at eight o'clock AM it didn't feel right. I was having a home-made bread cheese sandwich and suddenly thought, why not put apple slices in, too. I always leave the peel on, not only for the crunch, but also because I hate waste and peel is edible. Often it's where the keenest flavours lie.  I sliced the apple from the top down. You get a nice profile that way and a big slice. If there's some core in the middle, it's easy enough to cut out. I like my oranges cross sliced, too. It simply looks better and food ought to be a treat for the eyes as well as the taste buds. I don't butter my home-made bread because it has butter in it already. I can tell you, the apple/cheese sandwich was delicious and talk about crunch? Oh my! Then, I looked at the broccoli and romaine and thought, why don't I put those into a cheese or meat sandwich, also. With a dollop of my mayo/relish/chili sauce mix, it would be yum. It made me think how much flavour we lose when we cook fruit and vegetables and how easy it is to have sandwiches full of raw, real fruit and vegetables. Easy to do, very tasty and fun to concoct a sandwich salad. Kids lunches could be fun and exciting if kids decide what combinations they like. Natural peanut butter or other nut butters combined with fruits and nuts would make something very nice. Why not cream cheese, grapes and walnuts together? Or perhaps peanut butter, bananas and celery? I find salads boring but put the same things between a couple of thin slices of good home-made bread, and suddenly, it's not boring any more. In fact a well constructed sandwich can make a whole meal if you build it with good sense. Using carbs and proteins along with vegetables can be a creative lunch project for both young and old. Easy to make and true food for your body.

Do Gooders

Doing good isn't about money. Attending these gala dos and dropping a few hundred bucks you won't miss, while glugging champagne and wearing a tux and designer garb is not all that it takes. First, the latter kinds of folk have a keen eye on the income tax deductions available for such "generosity". Second they get their jollies often via the Press. I guess what galls me is that while they are busily out-donating each other, it's mostly done for publicity and getting one's gym-toned body into the visual social sections of the papers. Apologies to those who do donate, however, even if in this way, but let's not forget about the most important donors. They are the people who really do sacrifice, in giving. They do without, to give. They don't receive tax breaks for their gifts, true generosity, but their generosity goes beyond that of a cheque book. They find in their cupboards what they can do without to give to others who need it more. The people I speak of, are those who serve at charity dinners, who lean over food bank counters or bring jackets and blankets to those who live on the streets. They don't receive anything more than a grateful grin from those who reach out and say "thank you". These are the men and women and yes, children, who give of their time and meager funds and caring smiles, without any idea of recognition or the need for it. Included in this kind of anonymous generosity, also, are the very rich who don't use their huge donations to satisfy their places in the golden society or to impress their images. They give what they have taken from their successes and do it because they know that there are terrible inequalities in our beautiful world. But everyone can be a do-gooder. It doesn't take a lot. Dropping a tin of nutritious food or a carton of pasta or grains into a food donation box is one way. Adding a couple of bucks to your grocery haul when you go to the super market, helps a lot. And what's the harm in adding a coin or two to the grimy hat you might see in front of another human being sitting or lying out on the sidewalk. As someone said to me, sure it may seem to go to drugs or drink, but eventually that person needs to eat, too. We are all one kind, and for whatever reason we see ourselves in some kind of sad condition, we the ones whose lives are not the same, can give or use a smile or a word or two of outreach toward our fellow creatures. Christmas, yes Christmas, just like Hanukkah or Ramadan or any other special day dedicated to ones spiritual beliefs,  is coming up and however you plan to celebrate it, don't forget that it's all about giving and loving each other. Everyone. 'Tis the season.

Old Guys/Old Girls

There are lots of old people out there who are lonely and want a companion who could be a lover or at least a very good friend of the loving kind. But how do you access this likely-to-be pool of quietly desperate people of upper age who, other than the fashion restrictions of measuring tapes or weigh-in scales, have great mental and physical possibilities but feel too young for Senior Centres. They are intelligent, well-educated and informed men and women who can't see themselves doing jolly floor exercises for their joints or permitting themselves to be hunched over low cost, low tasting lunchtime soups and sandwiches at those kinds of places that bore them to ... well enough of the negatives. What most old chaps are looking for is a swinging young woman who will cling to them as Sugar Dad and put up with their snoring and bad hearing and other bodily functions that aren't palatable. Those fellows are dreaming, and when they come to realize that young women want young men or old men who are filthy rich, they settle into looking around at what's available close to their own  age. What they will find is not your shapely lithe old chick who is pretty, but mostly rather plain ladies who are kind and decent and affectionate and who fully understand who and what you are, men. Women have their ideal man in mind, too, but most of them are too practical to dream of a grey Prince Charming. The women who are old don't dream the same way as old fellas. They just want a nice man around, one who keeps himself groomed and isn't an old crank. They don't mind if he limps a bit and if he snores, does it in another room. All she wants is a nice companion who has good manners and treats her sweetly, who appreciates her cooking and doesn't mind her few extra pounds and wrinkles to match. Both of these old people have put their dreams of Mr or Miss Ideal out of their minds and are ready to simply enjoy the company of someone around to banish their lonely days. Meeting each other is the big problem. On-line dating might seem as easy as it costs, but it isn't. There is the awkward part such as meeting each other for coffee somewhere cheap. That, in itself, is embarrassing when, in your lifetime, you shunned such places as gauche. But you promise to try.  After duding up to meet the member of the potential old partner-to-be game, there is the nervousness and fear of rejection and the seeming silliness of it all. Most of these "dates" just don't happen for these reasons. We sit and hope and wait. In the meantime, there's always Netflix. 

Shoo Shoe

There is something about having to remove one's shoes on entering a home, that is ugly. Most people have door mats inside and out and unless their shoe soles are of the clumpy sneaker kind with cavernous abysses that collect mud on their revered plastic undersides, there is no need to take them off. Why then must one feel obligated. In some countries, it is traditional and expected, but in North America, removal is likely a tribute to the host's floor coverings rather than a deity. Therein lies the problem. Why put on floors, things like white carpets, mirror polished wood or scratch-able tiles? A floor is a floor and floors are meant to be walked upon unless one has wings. As a visitor who seldom complies with the current demand for shoe removal, I use the excuse while smiling broadly and pointing south, that these are my indoor shoes. After all, I wiped my shoe bottoms well on the little carpet item outside and inside, and there should be no undue offending substances remaining. Furthermore, why should I, after donning my best outfit to honour my host's invitation, go about in stocking feet to ruin the whole aesthetic effect. Nothing is more pathetic than a guest, desperately trying to hide mended socks under the couch ruffle or tablecloth edge. I have known during my travelling days, certain persons emphatically refusing to remove their shoes thus missing the most beautiful spiritual centers in the world. It indicates the limits of how embarrassing it is for some of us to go about padding around in our bare feet or lumpy socks when we paid for worthy and expensive foot coverings. I realize that there are the most elegant cabinets for one to plant in their foyers for the sole (couldn't help the pun) purpose of storing their shoes. There are styles for antique, contemporary and quirky shoe port shelves upon which you may sit while struggling to undo laces, un-velcro, unzip and unstrap. Tall boots are yet another situation. This kind of  foot attire needs a device of the kind that horse back riders without mates, have on hand to do the task for them. They are not pretty, but with the advent of tall boot fashion, floor worshipers should address this at some point. I don't know about you, but I  boycott the removal of shoes or boots when I visit. I have been invited into someone's home, not to strip down but to come on in and enjoy. And I am not lugging along a sack full of slippers either, thank you very much. Love me, love my shoes.

It's All That We Have

In an infinite place, there is among countless billions, a relatively small orbital ball of matter that continues to spin about its mother orb, a ball of fire, fearsome but benevolent to its flung off pieces remaining as its "children". The one blue, if that's what colour it is, planet, once it cooled, made itself home to life. The life became as we know it in many different ways that please us to believe. The life is varied in millions and billions of ways but all the life on this small piece of the sun, depends on this only unique place to survive. All of the creatures, wise and wonderful, breathe and creep and walk and swim and slither and fly and eat and drink and shelter on this small round, rotating, revolving bit of matter that is the only thing we truly know. There is nothing else for us, but here on what we call earth. There is only one earth and one creature of higher intelligence that allows itself the maintenance of the planet's  continuation. That creature has taken on the responsibility in its marvelous powers, to think and plan and feel in ways that other living creatures on earth it thinks, apparently, do not. It sees itself as superior. It is human and comes in all shapes and colours and thoughts. It calls itself beautiful. And it is, because of its abilities, developed over time, to survive in using what the "blue" planet offers. It gathers others to garner from the very elements of the place from which it rose, to nurture itself. It learned many things of earth, over time, eons of it, and named the lands among the waters and put imaginary lines here and there to separate into groupings. It found ways to use this earthly home of matter and devised structures and mechanics and the use of the invisible-to-it elements of the planet to make its life seem easier and wiser and better. None of the elements used could, under the thin blanket of air, be destroyed but they could be and were, changed and some became dangerous to other like creatures. But this wondrous, smart creature also learned how to mend its mistakes. It continues on and on, in its great intelligence to do so. And while the one two legged, intelligent creature of the earth, no matter its degree of intelligence, its shape or shade of colour, its thoughts, it often makes decisions that harm itself. And others. But no matter what the creature does, or how it goes about on this small planet in the vast universe that it will never know the end of, it does know that the earth is all it has, or ever shall.