Skin And Bone

I still feel sad for the very young women I saw in The magazine, walking the latest  fashions down the ramp of a famous designer. Their pathetically thin upper thigh, knee and collar bones were poking out of the skin tightly stretched over them caused spontaneous groans of sadness from me. How could anyone enjoy the fashions, no matter how gorgeous, they carried draped loosely on their hauntingly death camp  thinness. Every one of the girls, because that's what they were, made up girls, showed dangerously underweight bodies. One young woman looked near death. Their unsmiling faces although prompted to be so, made the whole effect even more frightening. And all I could feel was  tragedy. The magazine, that displayed this feature, lauded the event as being the top of the year.  Male models also live with this kind of measuring tool that makes anorexia look normal but I suspect that these models are close to their own demise or will be if they continue starvation. What concerns me is their influence on future generations of fashion lovers and those who make their living by its profits. It seems to me some years ago, the industry stopped this insane quest for bone thinness. There was a move toward more rounded shapes in models and decent dietary modes. I suppose over the next few years, it segued back to this foolish need to be skinny and the false claim that skinny is beautiful. It's not. Take a certain very rich Canadian singer of an age who looks gaunt and terribly ill. She, an entertainer was always slender but now she is ugly thin.  There is a difference between thin and skinny. Neither are attractive or natural. It is fair to say that the closer clothing models appear to be a wire coat hanger, the more the fashion mavens want to snap them up. They go to great lengths to hunt for the young and vulnerable who are tall, long boned and skinny luring them with tales about the riches and fame of becoming a top model. They don't warn them of the hazards that include long hours, intense travel and time frames. The whole move toward being skinny, has caused a society that focuses on thinness under the guise of health. Thus the rise of jogging, gyms and yoga. Healthy eating is having a balanced diet with plenty of fresh food from a wide range. It includes fats and sugars in moderation and not extended protein-only eating or any other kind of unnatural habit to lose weight instead of simply watching what we eat. What I saw in the pages of this magazine were young people, women and men, caught in the bondage of modeling fashion.  Media influences almost every aspect of modern life and fashion dictates are major in a "me" society. How we look is what we are and how we feel about ourselves and others. A healthy body glows with a good diet and appropriate exercise. And it has nothing to do with measuring tapes and scales. Thin and skinny are not beautiful, healthy is.

Between The Lines

Today in my professional magazine for retirees, I read an article by a doctor concerned with geriatrics. She cited in each of the pertinent paragraphs, statistics on the matter of retirees getting out and about and how healthy it is. She said that doing so denies the depressions occurring with aging and that it even fends off illnesses. Each of the statistics she quoted did not seem to include me. While I am not agoraphobic, I am also not a gadder. My mother was and my sister was and so were most of my female relatives save a few. The gadders went out almost every day, had vast numbers of  friends they visited frequently and were intensely involved in groups that had regular meetings and events. When I saw them, they spoke of how much they enjoyed their jobs, jaunts and jollities. Not once, did I, a stayathome, feel badly when they recounted their craft sessions, card games and tea times. I was happy for them but never did I want to join them or aspire to their lifestyles. When I was a wife, it was most delightful to do travel, socializing and nature exploring with my spouse but most of the time we both preferred our happy home times. It was fun to go out, but nicer to be at home. We saw our friends at times but not steadily. When we saw them or had them over, we very much enjoyed their company. It was the same with community activities. We participated more when we were younger but the older we became and those we loved died or moved away, the circle grew smaller. Never did it make us feel lonely or sad or bored. We liked reading and using the computer. As a widow, a term I dislike because it defines women in terms of loss, I missed my former spouse but I also came to discover the me that is me and not a half of a marriage. It made me appreciate all the more the man I spent much of my life with, but in terms of his own true self also. What I did not appreciate about the article is that it stated that if you don't join organizations, get out and exercise almost every day or socialize a good deal, you are not going to live as long. Well, excuse me, doctor, I must be one of the souls who slipped between the numbers. I love being in my home and doing such as reading, sewing, computer use and yes, watching television and listening to music and I remain in better health than most of my contemporaries. Some of my neighbours with dogs and a ton of friends,  say to me regularly with a concerned knitting of brow, "I never see you." I thought of many responses to that observance other than the mind-your-own-affairs choice,  but I would answer politely, "We must get together sometime." Many of them had little yappy dogs that needed to go out on the lawns numbers of times a day when they didn't use the carpet surreptitiously. Their card games and club meetings I found latterly, boring and repetitive and at times, vicious. Being at home was far more interesting than listening to agendas, political and religious discussion and putting up with some folk intent upon winning rather than play a game. When I do visit or go to a meeting of choice now, or out to an event or play a game, I enjoy it immensely. It feels special. I am never depressed or bored or restless. Guess, happily, I fit between the lines.

Reno Realities

As I write, I sit in my Lady Lair (my den) in the "furniture waiting room". The furniture has been piled here for the last three months because I am in a reno mode. My LL is where I live mostly these days. I moved to this older but bigger place to get some space rather than the urban squash of new tower life. The major part of the reno job is only over a smallish kitchen latched onto a living room but its shelves sit empty and bare without cupboard doors and there is no counter top. The new sink sits in a void and a large piece of cardboard protects the stove top. In the living area, piles of cardboard boxes amongst my furniture as yet unpacked are surrounded by  items that should be in the kitchen but that are currently collecting dust on whatever surface is available. My reno manager is a great guy and it's not his fault that the job clock is slow. Apparently, the rest of the lower mainland is also having renos done and the back-up is horrendous. Those of us who dreamt of the fabulous make-overs like they create in a couple of days on television shows, have made me jaded and for good reason. At least, I tell myself, after three months of limbo, I can use the fridge and stove. No wait.  At one point, I did have to empty the fridge so that it could be moved when a new piece of floor was installed and that took an afternoon. But now, week after week goes by when all that happens some days is a tradesperson with a measuring tape or some kind of electronic thing beaming. My dear manager person kept my ire from getting out of hand after the first two months, but I really do have a reason for impatience. My bathroom sink is currently my only source of water. Like many in third world countries, I have to walk some distance for it. When my eleven evergreen deck trees need sustenance as they do every three days, there is a lot of travelling water. I would love to learn the art of carrying it on my head. The matter of dish washing is another problem. I could use the dishwasher but I have of necessity only enough cutlery and dishes for one. The stove top cardboard serves as my kitchen. When the workers have gone home to meals done in real kitchens, I need to cook my dinners. I slide the cardboard to one side onto the gap that used to be the countertop and proceed. I have great respect for the kitchen sink since bathroom sinks, even nice big ones that I have in the already reno-ed ensuite, are just not made for kitchen ease. On the nice stone bathroom vanity, the all important coffee machine sits next to the toaster oven that I have yet to submit to. My friends ask "Is it finished yet? When can we come over and look?" The answer is "Not yet" and then I disappear quickly so not to answer the "Why?" that I know is coming. "Why?" is that suppliers are booked and I am not first in line. Also, it seems that there is a chain of command in renovations. Certain things have to be done before, after or in the middle of others. You have to wire for lighting before the countertops and then do the wiring and then do the cabinet doors and then do the plumbing. And if you want a list of reasons or excuses as to why a trade cannot show up, I have a thick list of them for you but I can say that the word "mother"comes into it frequently.  My poor manager used to be blond but is now turning a kind of silver grey and talking about retirement.

People Phone Booths

We used to have phone booths. You may smile. Those were the days before we became enslaved by cell phones taking up space on our bodies and making us one-handed humans. There are more cell phone addicted people than there are opiate addicted ones. "You," they say to those like me who have a cell phone but also a land line and make no excuses for it, "are a dinosaur. We modern individuals need cell phones for security, business, and socializing. Don't be silly, we couldn't live without our cell phones."  Nope. You don't think so, but you actually can live without a cell phone. You can live better. You can be in a work place with, certainly, phone equipment of all kinds in all sorts of places, but when you go out the door on home,  you can re-hab without a cell phone. You will find that  if you must for some reason, phone someone, phones can be found.  If you use them instead, you prove that you are not addicted to having every moment of your stressful day, controlled by that little flat thing that never leaves your hand. You know, the small one that you defy the law and safety with, when you get in your car, use it and hope you won't get caught? And kids do not need cell phones either. They don't need to be in contact with their friends and parents every second of their little lives which they are trying to build to become independent humans. Parents used to be at home at some point during the day, with their kids. Their daily relationships did not centre around cell phone checks but at the family dinner table. Families used to reality talk to each other. Cell phones are stupid little communicable communication diseases  that are worse than germs.  We get them, but we don't need them. They are a dependency. They are the enemy, however, not our friends. They do nothing for us nor do they care about us. There is no respect for privacy when those using them, need to report every aspect of their personal selves every minute of the day into their cell phones. They are used on the sidewalk, stores and public places such as transportation. But no one greets anyone any more. Is there any reason in the world why a young adult needs to be in constant cell phone touch with their peers? They, thus subject themselves to constant emotional side effects leaving no independent thinking time There is no time taken to contemplate the effect of what one texts. Cell phones have caused damage in what often leads to unintentional or perhaps deliberate cruelty.  In their social settings kids can hurt each other without thinking. Suicides amongst the vulnerable young happen and the weapon is the cell phone.  Also, some youngsters, unaware of the dangers and in spite of warnings, through peer influence think it's cool to send nudity or sextual messages. Gutless parents who can't keep track of how their kids in truth use the cell phones, allow them access all day and night. And kids can be demanding. The most famous reason they use is: "all the other kids have them and I don't want to be left out". Hey parents, the word "no" is part of your job as a good parent. To sit at the family dinner table with, not just forks and spoons, but cell phones, is grossly unhealthy. Just say "no" works and is just. It's time to get a grip, folks. Talk to each other, don't text. Talking is sharing with other people who can see your expressions and hear your voices.  Cell phones, add to our daily stress. You can't get away from life's busyness with that little beast in your hand. There is no white space to go to if you need a break. At gyms, church, schools, pools ( there are waterproofers) and yoga, you can't escape. Some have a basket fortunately, to drop the "drugs" into so that there is time-out from the cell phone. Thinking outside the box for a moment, why not try one day without the cell phone drug. Call it a cold turkey run. Could you? If you say no you can't, it's too late, you are hooked and cooked.

It's Time

We are all grown up as a society. Why do we continuously regard aging as something vile and unnatural and sad? When we accept such as global warming, God is deaders, weird politicians and professional protesters in our midst, do we still think of old age as bad. Everyone, without exception, regardless of anti-aging surgeries, cosmetics and replacements of joints will become old, wrinkled and live with pain. It is not unusual. It is natural. Recently, I read an article about a well-known singer who was to be placed, for health reasons, into an assisted living facility. The tone of the article made it seem a great tragedy. It's tragic to learn of those who are young having debilitating problems but hey, almost all people who age, as one woman put it, "have to put up with something". Amongst my aging companions, I hear tales about their sore joints, loss of hair, mobile issues and the effects of stroke and or disease. They joke about their problems and do their best to overcome the natural symptoms of their bodies beginning to falter and thus cause discomfort. They take medications for pain or therapy for ease. They try to appear pleasant and even if they talk about their situations amongst one another, most of them don't consider their plights unfair or unnatural. Aging is  perfectly natural. There is nothing shameful about it or distasteful or ugly or sad. Death is inevitable and no one escapes it: not the highest or lowest on the social scale. We get old, we die. We don't have to dwell on it, but truthfully, everyday everyone gets closer to it. It's not something to worry about any more than the coming winter or spring. Life is a journey. When we come to the end of it, we can look back and recall all of the best parts. Or not.  And how we do that is entirely a choice. Some go down the dark trail while others stay on the bright side. It is a personal matter and no judgement can be made on who and how that should work. I like the bright side and revel in the long life I have been fortunate to enjoy. Do I want to remember the bad times? No. We should honour, not ridicule or criticize or grieve about old age. It belongs to all of us. What the young see as distasteful seeing an  elder struggling along in a walker is not what the walker user is thinking. He or she is happy to have the walker or wheelchair or cane. Without these helps, it would mean taking to a bed and that presents all sorts of other health issues. As an elder, you don't have to jump up in the morning and do push ups or run the marathon or swim the channel to feel young. I know some elders who think that if they push themselves hard, they will stay "young" forever. That can lead to falls and broken bones. Try, but don't be foolish. If it works for you, do it but sorry, you still will not live forever. What you do in life, might live on. The secret is to do the best you can with the life you have.  Life, even old age is not evil. It can be a joy if we, young and old, accept it as natural and beautiful in its own way.

Nail Polish Secrets

Those of you who frequent nail salons, know that there are as many colours available for fingers and toes, as there are colours in nature. Even some that change! Where I go, there are often sales of these tiny bottles of paint for our digits. I used to bypass these, but not any more. I went through a phase of having my nails done in shades of white, navy, grey, black and so on and bought the sale polishes for repairs such as chipping. One day, I noticed my white leather watch strap had turned dark. Rather than toss it out and get another strap, I used some of my white nail polish and voila, no more unsightly streaks. After all, paint is paint and the little bottles are seldom used up. My white sneakers get a dab here and there when there is a serious scuff mark and so do the white woodwork doors and baseboards. China repair and other small scuffs and scrapes of any objects can be fixed the same way. Like you, I have a collection of inexpensive earrings that are ignored as the old ones are forgotten until donation day comes around.  I needed some grey ones recently to go with something and couldn't find the right shape or colour in the shops. You have already guessed what I did. Yes; I got out my grey nail varnish and painted an old pair of silver earrings. They are now grey and just the right colour. For painting the earrings, I use a glass plate that I can clean easily, lay the earrings on it and proceeded to paint them with nail polish. I tried it this method on another pair that was glass based and it covered beautifully. Nail paint doesn't seem to mind being put on smooth glass or metal finishes. If after use, a bit chips off, which is seldom since earrings don't get hard wear, I just dab a little more on. In fact, on some of my earrings and pins that could use a newer appearance and shine, I use clear gel polish. I thought of it in out of something from my past. Many decades ago during the Second World War ending, my new Aunt Hannah invited my mother to her little first house to tea and to see our new baby cousin. In her kitchen she had a series of jam and other jars on her counter and they were charmingly decorated with red nail polish. There were tiny red flowers and leaves and vines to make the series of her humble cannister sealer jars appear delightful. Unfortunately it wasn't fashionable then, to wear other colours on your fingernails or she would have made them spectacular.  There are lots of ways to use up your old nail polish, even mixing shades, and it's fun to use. The paint dries fast and other brushes can be found to create finer lines. Of course, it won't do for large surfaces or ones that have wear, but for creating small fancy box decor or other decorating tricks, it works perfectly. The children might enjoy fancying up their favorites while helping to  recycle your old nail varnishes. Best of all nail polish remover takes care of spills and mistakes. Just another way to recycle.

Lazy Fun Jam

I gave up buying a lot of silly things such as jam and made-up dips. I am too old and wise to put things that are called "healthful"but taste dreadful, into my mouth as well. Don't hand me glup such as kelp smoothies. Ugh. My body knows what it's doing and more or less tells me what works and what doesn't. And horrid tasting things are not good no matter who says so. You do learn to trust these wisdoms the older you get, and if you are lucky and careful, you will live a long time and yes, get old and love it as I do. Getting old teaches many lessons and one of them is to stop buying things that you can do yourself. No, you aren't too busy and if you have kids, all the more reason to let them get in on the secrets of using fresh foods instead of prepared ones with hosts of additives in them. No wonder there are more "allergies"! Today after tasting some bland non-local raspberries and strawberries from afar, I got out my favorite and most used wok with the slippery finish and flat bottom and wonderful two handles. The berries were not going to be tossed out. I dumped the tasteless fruit into it and added water and let it come to a boil. After that, I put in as much sugar as berries, and stirred to enjoy the pungent aromas that happen when the fruits cooked. I squeezed a lemon's juice and tossed a few fresh mint and sage leaves into the mess bubbling gently and continued to stir. It took a lovely long meditative time while I thought of all the wonderful days on my grandparents' farm where we were welcomed to have as many strawberries and raspberries as we could pick and pop into our mouths. I remembered the delight of finding small and large blackberries, huckleberries and wild raspberries in the woods there. Landing back down from the reveries, I found it was time to think about putting the small amount of now thicker boiled-down jam into a container. Why would I want to make eight jars of jam as some do, when any time I found some fruit I loved, I could do it this way. That's how easy it is. I use the jams as garnish on fowl, pork, lamb as well as sometimes stirring in a little vinegar and calling it sweet and sour with my stir fry vegetables and seafood. Children with supervision should learn how to do such things instead of scooping out chemically flavoured water called jam from stores. Any fresh fruit makes lovely jam and so easily. If you are terrified of sugar, go ahead and buy the weird white chemicals instead. It's your ... , well, whatever. Fear of sugar is having too much of it and often that comes of not having any. At the same time you are showing your children or children's children and beyond, how to do things with ease and pleasure, throw away the measuring cups and show them how to use their hands for that purpose. They will find out how much on their hand is a quarter cup, a teaspoon and tablespoon. The measuring cup amounts were designed long ago in the first place from hands. You can make your own mayo, peanut butter and a host of other delicious condiments from local foods. We have mint to pluck and other savory herbs as well in our woodlands. Don't buy if you can make. Moving back in time, is moving ahead in both mental and physical health.

Weight Of Words

During English class many years ago, a certain frustrated student stood up unexpectedly and asked loudly "Why do we need to learn all this Grammar stuff for?" It was a valid question even though the rest of the class laughed since they found, as I did, that the question, which did become an ensuing debate topic, answered itself. Words and their arrangement when spoken or written, do matter. Recently, a certain word that a group came up with to identify their cause, upset a great many people who took offense at its connotation. They felt that the term used was not only  misleading but incorrect. What interested me is that the word took on, in the media, far more importance than the outcome of the group's findings themselves. The word constituted a very heavy weight for the entire country who struggled with what its true meaning is. The controversy became enormous nationally and globally, in fact, over this one word. Other words to do with gender, for example, have taken on powerful forces in their use or non-use. Politically insensitive terminology often becomes the cause of violence. In some places accents and inflections and coined words and so on, denote one's social standing or employment opportunity or educational history. The way we use words is often an indication of how we are judged socially. The scope of one's vocabulary indicates, amongst most academics, the level of intelligence and wisdom in a colleague. Poets use words as artists use paint. Novelists using their words take us to places and into people we meet in their pages and go where we cannot. Writers of factual material choose terms with precision so to make their presentations more readily comprehensive and comprehending. All of us use words that flatter, offend, comfort, demand, question, and a host of other feelings. We do it to elicit certain reactions by others. We all use words sometimes, we wish we hadn't and want to "take back". But words are not take-back-able. No amount of apology can wipe out a word spoken. It's not possible to strike a double line through words you have spoken. The less known or lost languages that are being given new life, are to be honoured. To argue an adage, words are so much more elusive than actions, and they DO speak louder. The way we put words together, or usage as it is called in some quarters, tells something about ourselves and our backgrounds. When we are born, our first words are what we hear and attempt to parrot. We learn, when infants, from the basic senses of hearing and seeing. The two fit together. We put the words together as we listen, repeat and see the reactions to those words. Undeniably, our ways of speaking stem from our beginnings. These beginnings are crucial.When we are school age, we take this home learning with us and build on it. Lessons during our basic twelve grades at school, show us other words used by writers and learned folk in various subjects taught, who set out to enhance our word history. Language, both home and schooled, is vital to our individualistic place in the world. It should never be denied or suppressed or ridiculed. It is what and who we are. That is, in  every society, "why we need to learn all this Grammar stuff for".

Same Difference?

These times have democratized some of our human societies in the "free world" to the point of confusion. While I outwardly embrace the belief that all people are equal, I hear and see that this is not actually happening the way it should. Individual freedoms it seems are not as important as group freedoms. Groups have the power of volume, thus value in terms of their many voices in the media and funding due to their numbers. Politicians listen to those who are in groups under one title. For them, they are "votes in a bag". But special group democracies, sadly, fly in their own face. If all Men, meaning individuals,  are equal, are groups weighted beyond this tenet? If so, is it. therefore, a true democracy? Are those in the  group swayed by the group dynamic or are they truly committed to a personal, well-considered choice? And if the group in which they locate, asks for and takes more power than an individual outside the group, is it right? Is it democracy? It seems that certain groups see themselves as being above and beyond what others are and have, and expect more. They give reasons why they are "special".  Not only that, they petition from the taxpayer already burdened, to scrape the tax barrel bottom and hand over funding to their power group. I find this a confusing, and often sickening aspect of present day small "p" politics. When I hear/see media reports of huge groups of people getting their ways and successfully making big changes as to where the tax money goes and how, it concerns me. It's not because I don't agree with them, it's because I have one vote and I consider it very important. I don't vote based on what a group wants; I vote trying to weigh my personal decision based on what makes sense from where I sit and how much actual value there is in what my tax dollar gets. It may not be the popular choice that the pollsters predict, and it may not be what my neighbours think, but it is what I think and it is my right to cast my vote where I believe it should go. That is democracy. Our tax dollars are never enough and unfortunately, there are some citizens who rant that they should be funded more generously than others. If we are all "one" why should some receive special treatment?  And where does the money come from? It comes from our individual pockets, from ordinary hard-working people who earned it, not from some mysterious thing called "The Government". Everyone deserves justice and all of the other many points in our Constitution. If we are Canadian citizens, we are equal, not special. Same difference? At times, I wonder.