Past Deadline: If You Can’t Run, Bake Instead…

Here is the Nov. 29/12 edition of “Past Deadline,” published in The Perth Courier.

If you can’t run, bake instead

 I had spicy sweet potato soup at the cafeteria at the Perth campus of Algonquin College the other day. It was goooood soup and made me feel warm and cosy. Now I want to make soup.

This always happens in the fall/winter – I get into some sort of nesting mode and feel the need to stock our freezer with soups and stews and chilies and sauces, not to mention the requisite Christmas baking.

Unfortunately, autumn is also when my teaching and business schedules explode, so puttering in the kitchen is not a luxury I really have.

Still, I try to make time for it because it’s relaxing. Since I can’t run to relieve stress anymore (stupid foot and tailbone), cooking will do.

After Thanksgiving, Groom-boy was telling some of his co-workers at Lee Valley Tools that we had the family in for turkey dinner. We’re not a huge group – our four, both sets of parents and my brother, sister-in-law and niece – just biggish.

These days my Biggish Dinners aren’t overly fancy. I tend to stick to the traditional and the family favourites. I still haven’t gotten around to making my Grandmom’s oatmeal stuffing, which my Dad loves, because I really like the apple dressing I have been making for years. One of these days, Dad, I promise.

Anyway, Groom-boy was telling his co-workers about the festivities, and several of them were amazed to hear I actually like having Biggish Dinners. I was surprised – I figured everyone was hosting Biggish Dinners and I sometimes feel as if I should do more.

The one thing I loathe about the Biggish Dinners is shoveling through the domestic debris beforehand. I will never be profiled as a cleaning guru nor will my home be featured on a house tour. I am hoping to continue to evade being featured on the show Hoarders. (Shudder.)

Cooking a turkey doesn’t scare me, though.

They say if you give a task to a busy person, it’ll get done. It seems to be true. (I’m not sure how long the momentum lasts for the poor busy person…we’ll see, I guess.) That probably explains why my busiest times are also when I am most inclined to go on a baking spree.

That’s how the Christmas baking rolls out.

I am not likely to make one batch of a couple dozen cookies here and there. No, I am more likely to double the recipe and then double two more recipes and immerse myself in hundreds of cookies in one fell swoop. Or squares. Or tarts. Whatevs. It’s a production line.

Sometimes, when I am standing in my kitchen covered in flour, sticking to the floor and blaring Christmas carols late into the evening, I think about working in a bakery.

There is something so completely satisfying about preparing food. You work with your hands, let your thoughts wander and make things people love. Okay, they don’t always love it, especially when you try to sneak dates into cookies, but you get my drift.

One of my favourite all-time accomplishments was when I finally learned how my grandmother’s shortbread recipe should “feel” in order to be perfect. I also learned patience – they have to cook long and slow.

Even though I know it by heart, I pull out my Nan’s recipe card every time I make banana muffins because it is in her handwriting and it feels as if she is there with me. Same for Grandmom’s fruit cake.

Comfort food.

Now I’m seriously thinking I should snag some sweet potatoes and try to make soup…just as soon as I finish this column and write a media release and some articles and review some minutes and save the world, etc.

***Postscript: I did try making the soup. It wasn’t as good as the cafeteria’s, but it was quite yummy!

 

Past Deadline: Brought to You By…

Here is the Nov. 22/12 edition of “Past Deadline,” published in The Perth Courier.

Brought to you by…

This column is brought to you by my Facebook friends. And by the letter Q. (For question.) And the number one.

The hardest part of writing this column is coming up with the idea. Once I have a kernel of a thought, it’s pretty easy to pound out a few hundred words about it, but occasionally it’s a stretch.

Recently we were travelling into Ottawa and Groom-boy was driving, I like to take the opportunity to write my column on my phone when I’m a passenger, but was hindered by having no idea to expound.

That’s where the Wonders of Social Media™ kick in. (The Interwebs – such a mahvellous tool!)

I posted on Facebook as we drove: “I need a column idea. Stat.” My friends came through! (At least I think they did. You be the judge!)

The dominant theme was Christmas. Some of it was on the serious side, such as Canadian Armed Forces spending Christmas in Afghanistan (from high school chum Linda).

Rajan’s ideas included people celebrating Christmas for the first time, what Christmas means to people of other religions and what pains people away from their families take/undergo to be with their families on Christmas Eve. (Long-time Courier fans may remember Rajan – he goes back to the 1990s when I still worked there. He was one of our Canada World Youth students at the time – from India.)

A couple of people honed in on annoying things about Christmas – specifically stores starting to play Christmas music the day after Halloween (that one was from Jim), which can sometimes backfire – generating more cynicism than goodwill.

A couple of people (my Calgary friend Heather and our Murphys Point colleague from our student days, Jane) highlighted how annoying it is to hear of people who already have their Christmas shopping finished (agreed!).

The parental factor weighed in heavily with the topic (loosely paraphrased here) of “How many freakin’ gifts do kids today day really need??!!”

I hear ya! I could probably write an entire column on this subject. I used to be fairly creative with gifts, but now I am usually at a loss because it seems as if everyone already has everything. With my kids, it is sometimes hard to pick out something that will actually be appreciated, let alone beloved.

“What about the gifts and the amount of gifts kids ask for? It’s getting out of control,” wrote Jane.

My university friend Karen echoed the gift theme by asking if four-year-olds really need things like an iPod Touch. She said she knows people who do three gifts: one thing they need, one thing they want and one thing to wear (I like that) and others who only do homemade gifts. She also mentioned the “Advent Conspiracy,” which de-emphasizes consumerism at Christmas.

Moving away from the Christmas theme, another popular topic was “tin foil and its many uses, including millinery.” This was from Heather in Calgary, who then posted a picture of a cat wearing a tin foil hat with the slogan “I has consprcy thery.” Love you, babe.

“Think of what kids could do with a roll of tin foil…seriously!” added Karen.

I’m thinking I might give tin foil to my kids for Christmas.

My brother contributed a fabulous idea that I just might save for another column: “Are beavers plotting to take over the world?” Love it.

Meanwhile my bud Gary offered the following: “The best column ideas have been around for a while: Doric, Ionic and (Ricardo Montalban’s favourite) Corinthian.” Hehehe! Gary, you are such a support!

Then one of my besties, Sharon in Kingston, contributed: “I don’t think you ever capitalized on the dinner with murderers.” So true! Stay tuned, everyone. I’m outta space.

Thanks to all!

 

And the Winner Is….

One of the projects I have been working on over the last couple of months is election campaign material for a former colleague, Peter Wagland. Rack cards, signage, posters, a media release and ads were completed. The election was on November 19, and he won! Congrats, Peter!

Past Deadline: Hairy Lips for a Good Cause

Here’s this week’s “Past Deadline,” published in The Perth Courier.

Hairy lips for a good cause

I am finding it hard to take my husband seriously. I mean harder than usual.

See, he’s got this growth sprouting on his face and, well, at least it’s for a good cause!

Movember began in Australia and has become a global campaign to raise money and awareness for men’s health, particularly prostate cancer and male mental health initiatives.

The idea is to try to change established habits and attitudes men have pertaining to their health and to promote early detection, diagnosis and treatment.

In Canada, funds go towards programs run by Movember and Prostate Cancer Canada. Last year, more than 854,000 Mo Bros and Mo Sistas worldwide were involved and raised $125.7 million CAD.

On November – I mean Movember – 1, fellas show up clean shaven, register at www.Movember.com and spend the rest of the month growing and grooming a moustache.

For some guys the growing part is easier said than done, but it’s not a problem for Groom-boy. Within a week he already had a substantial caterpillar resting under his nose.

Now, the thing of it is, many of us girls are of the opinion that there are only a handful of men who can pull off a moustache.

Someone who springs to mind right off the bat is Tom Selleck. Whether he’s Magnum P.I. or Commissioner Regan, it would be just plain wrong for him to lose his moustache, in my opinion.

Jack Layton was another one. It was a trademark.

My Uncle Tom can do it, too. When I was a kid he always had a moustache, complete with handlebars, but he opted to go clean-shaven several years ago and I still haven’t gotten used to it.

I think that’s the whole point – it’s what you’re used to. I mean, if Tom Selleck had become a superstar as a clean-shaven dude, I’d probably still watch Blue Bloods and sigh a little.

Can you even picture such notables as Freddie Mercury, Gandhi, Charlie Chaplin, Burt Reynolds, Sir Robert Borden or Albert Einstein without moustaches?

Just to shoot holes in the “what you’re used to” argument, though, my dad sported a moustache from the time I was born until after he retired. Then one day several years back he shaved it off and, if I remember correctly, he had to point out the fact it was gone. Despite his white hair, his understated moustache had a tiny tinge of red in it and blended in with his skin tone, so its loss wasn’t dramatic.

With Groom-boy, though – yeesh! It’s dark and noticeable and I laugh every time I look at him.

He tells me that’s the whole point – that it’s supposed to be uncomfortable (he hates it) and funny looking so that it’s a sacrifice to a cause.

Groom-boy does not resemble Tom Selleck, so there is no watching and sighing. (Sorry, dear.)

The kids are having a ball with it, and they keep running up to Daddy to feel his moustache. This is particularly irritating when we are all sitting together at suppertime and Daddy is trying to eat.

When we have a conversation, I have to look away in order to concentrate on what Groom-boy is saying. Possibly I will get used to the caterpillar and by the end of November I won’t even notice it, but I highly doubt it.

Fortunately, I don’t think I have to worry about it becoming a permanent facial feature, as it appears to be driving him batty.

It’s all for a very good cause, though, so keep fighting the good hairy fight, boys! If you want to learn more about Groom-boy and his Lee Valley Tools colleagues, check out the team at http://ca.movember.com/team/449269.

Happy Movember!

 

Past Deadline: A Woeful Tail

Finally caught up! Here is “Past Deadline” from the Nov. 8 issue. (I am pleased to report that I am feeling much better than I was when I wrote this.)

A woeful tail

This week, you will be delighted to know, I am going to write about my bum. It’s a good news/bad news story.

The bad news is, I took an unexpected fast trip down half a flight of stairs first thing last Wednesday morning, and my tailbone took the brunt of it. Bump bump bump bump bump. I nearly passed out.

If it’s not broken, it’s definitely very, very angry.

The good news is I didn’t fling my arms out to brace myself, so I didn’t damage my rotator cuff like the last time I fell down these stupid stairs. Hurray! The other good news is I have something to write about.

My house is very old – 1840s – and the stairs are fairly steep with narrow treads. Combine this with a klutz and it’s not good.

This is the third time I have slid down these stairs. The first was not too long after we moved in 13 years ago. It resulted in a bruised or broken tailbone (coccyx is the fancy name) and the injured rotator cuff. The second was about seven years ago when Girlchild was a baby. I was carrying her at the time. We were both fine – just terrified.

Honest, I treat these stairs with the utmost respect, but I still don’t have the hang of it.

There’s not a lot you can do for a tailbone injury. After all, the coccyx is the tiny little hooked bone at the base of your spine, so it’s not as if you can put a cast on it. I know this from experience.

Whether it’s bruised or broken, the treatment is basically the same: rest, ice and anti-inflammatories such as ibuprofen.

So, I am on ice. Literally. It’s a huge thrill. I mean chill. Sometimes I just shove the ice pack down my pants to save time.

I have learned how to sit in order to alleviate pressure on the rear. One method is to use a doughnut cushion. Normally this lovely device prevents pressure from being placed on the tailbone, but right now there is so much tenderness in the surrounding area the doughnut isn’t feeling so wonderful.

Instead, I sit with one foot tucked under my thigh so there is no direct contact with the coccyx and the chair.

The other sitting option is to lean forward. I attend a lot of meetings. I am sure I look as if I am listening eagerly as I employ this sitting method. Of course I really am listening eagerly, but now I look convincing.

The “rest” part of the treatment isn’t so easy. See, the tailbone appears to be connected to, well, almost everything. I can’t bend, I can’t walk very well and I can only sit in those aforementioned modified positions. Sleeping hurts. Sneezing and coughing hurt. Lifting things hurts (especially if it involves bending.) Getting in and out of chairs is no fun and the car is probably the worst.

If I drop something and one of the kids is nearby, my plaintive call for help goes out (they have been very helpful, and they enjoy mocking me as I groan around the house).

Really, the only time things feel improved is if I have an opportunity to sit in my modified positions for a couple of hours. That seems to constitute “rest.”

Standing (i.e. when I am teaching), is pretty good, too, as long as there isn’t much movement involved.

Unfortunately, there is only so much sitting still or standing around a working mom can do.

So, really, my best advice is prevention. Kids, stairs are bad. Don’t fall down the stairs.

I am thinking of having the stairs removed, actually.

 

Past Deadline: Heading for the Bunker

Here is “Past Deadline” from the Nov. 1 issue of The Perth Courier.

Heading for the bunker

As I write this on the last weekend of October, the east coast is evacuating and shutting down in light of a conglomeration of weather systems around Hurricane Sandy.

Forecasters are saying it will affect tens of millions of people right into Ontario, particularly our southern neighbours.

The weather system is being called “Frankenstorm.”

How appropriately Halloweeny! I am inclined to dress up as a Terrified Person™ and build a bunker.

We have lots of canned goods and stuff in the pantry. We bought batteries on the weekend (although that was more related to Girlchild’s birthday party) and our large water jug is at the ready.

I never worry about having light as we are armed to the teeth with myriad flashlights and battery- and solar-powered lights of various descriptions. Groom-boy has a serious light fetish. It’s quite weird, actually.

I once proposed in this space that Groom-boy be hired by some independent third party to perpetually cruise the landscape at night and report burned-out lightbulbs. Over the years I have heard more than my fair share of stories about missing letters in store signs and extinguished street lights.

I tell you, he would be a bright shiny star at this. Burned-out lightbulbs cause him a surprising amount of angst and Must! Be! Stopped!

But I digress. We have food, water, batteries and lights. No bunker…but that could be overdoing it anyway.

I have also used this space to wax rhapsodic – not that long ago – about exaggerated weather stories.

Don’t get me wrong – I am in no way belittling the intensity of Hurricane Sandy and the fact it has killed dozens of people and affected countless lives. But I do worry when newscasters start labelling systems with terms like “Frankenstorm” and “Storm of the Century.” If it doesn’t live up to the hype, which has been known to happen, it’s like crying wolf.

How many times have we in eastern Ontario cancelled buses and headed for shelter based on weather warnings and news reports, only to be met with a skiff of snow or, worse, a bright sunshiny day? (Not that I have anything against bright sunshiny days. Besides, I am That Mother™ who takes her kids to school even when the buses are cancelled.)

I understand it’s risk management and that if warnings aren’t issued and heeded and something happens and someone gets hurt then it is a big deal.

There is a case to be made for the fact that forecasters are merely that – forecasters – and they can’t really tell exactly what is going to happen, but I wonder if we should all toughen up a little so that we know how to cope in bad weather rather than running scared? Especially in this rather sedate part of the world.

Think of this. In the spring or summer when it rains (assuming there is no drought), forecasters call it rain. It’s not “Rainmageddon.” We are not advised to take cover.

A “summer storm” involves thunder and lightning, which tends to be more threatening than plain old rain. That’s when you don’t want to be standing in a field with a metal pole or even an umbrella. Danger!

In the winter, however, it seems that every time it snows we call it a “winter storm.” (Snow is just frozen, slippery rain, remember.) It could be a smattering of light, fluffy flakes, but we are advised to proceed with caution as it is a “winter storm.”

If it’s more than a centimetre and a half – egad! It’s “Snowmageddon.”

What’s up with that? I mean, it’s Canada! It snows here! Get some winter tires! Wear a toque! Don’t wear stilettos – wear snow boots! Grab a coping mechanism and get on with life!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a bunker to stock with chocolate. Just in case.

October Activities

Things were busy last month with Lanark County activities. The official opening of the expansion of a beautiful hiking trail in Lanark Highlands – the Baird Trail – was held and this media release was issued. The fourth article in our ongoing series about Lanark County’s Community Forests was also released, and you can find it here. Don’t forget to read about the latest Lanark County Council meeting – right here. Last month and into November I have been helping with Lanark County Tourism’s 2013 Festivals and Events guide – stay tuned!

Past Deadline: Let’s All Prorogate!

Here is the Oct. 25 edition of “Past Deadline” from The Perth Courier.

Let’s all prorogate!

Prorogation. Everybody’s doin’ it. You should do it, too!

I have to admit, a few years ago I did not know what “prorogation” meant. Possibly this is because it is generally a fairly non-controversial thing in parliamentary cycles and, up until a few years ago, it was just one of those routine procedures that did not make the news.

Prorogation is, according to the Canadian Oxford, when you “discontinue the meetings of (a parliament etc.) without dissolving it.”

In the “way back” times, prorogation was a lengthy period (often about six months) between parliamentary sessions that allowed MPs to spend time in their constituencies. Faster travel and better communication technology mean such long breaks aren’t as necessary now.

These days prorogation between sessions usually isn’t a big deal. It happens when it is time for a new speech from the throne and, hence a new agenda.

In the last 10 years, though, it seems that when the going gets tough in parliament, the “tough” stomp away from the sandbox.

This handy dandy parliamentary tactic was used by former Prime Minister Jean Chretien in 2002 when it looked as if the sponsorship scandal was about to explode. (It caught up to him later.)

Prime Minister Stephen Harper used it in 2008 when his minority government faced defeat by a pesky coalition of two opposition parties. It was a seven-week distraction (“Hey! Look! Shiny things!”) that prevented his defeat.

When the Afghan detainees affair cropped up in 2009, Harper ran to the Governor General again. He said (conveniently) it was to recess during the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver (more shiny things!).

This newish take on an old procedure isn’t just a federal thing, the provinces are climbing on the prorogation train, too. Why, our very own soon-to-be-former Premier Dalton McGuinty surprised everyone last week by announcing he is resigning and that the sandbox will be closed until a new leader is chosen.

So all business in the legislature (which is a fairly busy place, I understand) is postponed, even though he will carry on as premier until the convention.

What? So, we all get to just sit around and watch a provincial Liberal leadership race until then? Fantastic.

There are some who say telling everyone to get out of the sandbox was necessary because no one would play nice – what with labour leaders threatening to throw sand all over the plans to freeze public sector wages and such.

Others suggest someone may have pooped in the sandbox – considering the Ornge Air scandal and the growing gas-fired power plant situation. Or maybe Dalton got some sand in his eye?

If tradition holds and the prorogation lasts long enough, it’s possible a) the opposition will have simmered down when the legislature resumes and b) the voting public will have forgotten or will have not cared in the first place about prorogation and will not see it as a questionable procedure worthy of turfing the government.

As for me, I am quite thankful for the reminder. First of all, I had forgotten how to spell prorogation, and needed that refresher. Secondly, I am now inspired to look around me for opportunities to prorogue things when the going gets rough.

People not seeing things your way at a work-related meeting? Let’s just walk away for a few months.

Children not cooperating at home? I hereby suspend procedures and send them to their respective ridings (rooms?) until we all forget about this and move on to other things.

Could be handy, don’t you think? I mean, why bother facing the music and doing your job when the going gets tough? That would be so grown up and role model-ish, and who wants that? Ew.

Past Deadline: Pretty Rocks and Geology Speak

From the Oct. 18 “Past Deadline” in The Perth Courier.

Pretty rocks and geology speak

 When I was a kid (oh here she goes again), I found a pretty rock. I loved rocks – I always looked for ones that had sparkly bits or interesting stripes or, if I was really lucky, I would find one that had tiny fossils in it.

I remember having this one tiny rock, though, that was predominantly white and pink but with many tiny specks of silver throughout.

I can’t remember where I found it, but I vividly recall how I lost it.

One day, I was playing with two sisters who lived down the street. They had a babysitter that day and I joined them for a walk downtown.

As we meandered down Wilson Street, I clutched my pretty rock. We had just crossed in front of what is now Metro (I.G.A. back in the day), when the babysitter asked if I would like her to keep my rock in her purse so I wouldn’t lose it.

Seemed prudent.

And then I forgot completely about it and never saw my pretty rock again.

I now know the little specimen was probably a piece of apatite or feldspar with mica sprinkled throughout. I also know there was a time when I wouldn’t have been the only one happy to find it.

Which brings me to the present. One of the coolest things about doing the freelance work I do is the opportunity to take on new and different projects. I am always learning – sometimes complex things that involve a whole different vocabulary.

A perfect example of this is geology. I was exposed to geology in a cultural history context when I worked at Murphys Point Provincial Park as a student, and this has continued on with my involvement with the Friends of Murphys Point Park. Hopefully you’ve heard of the amazing historic gem located at the park – the Silver Queen Mine – which is one of the Seven Wonders of Lanark County, you know!

I have been down in the mine a kazillion times to see its sparkly mica, feldspar and apatite, and each time I notice or hear about something new. The park staff are constantly learning about the site, which operated as a mine in the early 1900s.

In the Silver Queen Mine at Murphys Point. (Stephanie Gray photo)

Recently I had the opportunity to do some work for the Ontario’s Highlands Tourism Organization, which has a recreational geology component. I found myself working with terminology such as parallel glacial striae and foliated mafic rock and mosaics of calcite crystals and finding ways to tie it all into the human experience.

Rocks, after all, are everywhere. Murphys Point tells the story of how the first settlers struggled to farm the rocky Canadian Shield land only to come to embrace it during a small-scale mining boom, which is when they would have been happy to find pretty rocks like the one I had.

On the weekend I had the opportunity to take in the opening of the gorgeous new geology exhibit at the Perth Museum, featuring some exquisite examples from the collection of Dr. James Wilson (circa 1850) of Perth, who discovered and named the mineral “Wilsonite.” I then accompanied a group that included several geologists on a tour of the Silver Queen Mine.

They speak in tongues, those geologists, when a group of them gets together in a mine. Despite the fact I have visited the Silver Queen a kazillion times, seeing it with a group of geologists is a different thing entirely.

It’s really cool to watch people who have a passion for a subject when they are in their element.

As for me, I still love pretty rocks, even though I don’t know all the big words. And I love my job(s) for exposing me to such wonderful things.

Past Deadline: Watching for Picnic Areas

Here is the Oct. 11 edition of “Past Deadline” from The Perth Courier. (Still catching up!)

Watching for picnic areas

One day last week I looked up and it was October.

Whoa.

How the heck did that happen?

I am used to picking up the pace in the fall, but this autumn seems to be slipping by faster than ever.

We had a great summer. Work was manageable and we were able to take two weeks off and do some great family stuff near the end of August. We had such a good time that the transition back to school and the regular work routine was, well, abrupt.

As the September start line appeared before us, a voice in my head was shouting: “On your mark…get set….”

Accordingly, I scrambled to get as much advance prep done for clients and my Algonquin courses as I could. I have a heavier load than usual, and I knew if I didn’t have several weeks done in advance, I’d be off the pace from the start.

“Go!” the voice shouted.

Now, in October, I find myself catching up to my prep, so the voice is quoting a famous Disney fish: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming….”

Time is such a funny thing (funny haha or funny strange?). When you’re a kid and have, theoretically, tonnes of it ahead of you, time seems like a long, straight, boring road and you are inching and creeping along. You just can’t wait to get around the next bend or over a hill and be a bit older so you can see what lies ahead.

Then, you hit the point when that road is filled with twists and hairpin curves and bumps and steep hills and occasional dark valleys and you have to drive fast and you can’t see all the sights. There are just too many things to squeeze into the hours of the day, and you find yourself wishing either that you had a clone or that you could recoup all those wasted hours daydreaming when you were a kid.

(Actually, I only want the clone. Without all that daydreaming and cloud watching and star gazing I wouldn’t be who I am today. The clone would do the housework.)

It seems to be true that time speeds up as you get older. I’ve heard so many freshly retired people proclaim they don’t know how they ever had time to get everything done when they were working, given how busy they are now that they are retired. (I just smile and nod as I juggle meetings and work and dental appointments for kids and volunteer stuff and 17 minutes of sleep. If retirement is busier, then I’m never going to stop working!)

I wonder if it comes full circle when you get even older – if time stretches out again like a long, slow highway, with a destination not quite visible on the horizon. Or is it like a sloping, downward hill and you coast along? Or a steep, hard climb to a summit? I suppose it depends on how the earlier twists and turns worked out.

The hard part is remembering to pull into the rest stops now and again and have (literally or figuratively) a picnic or enjoy the view or take one of those naps you missed as a little kid when you were too busy running down the road of life to sleep.

Doing that seems to be more and more important as the drive gets faster and faster. You don’t want to run out of gas, after all. And because we don’t really know the route or have a map or GPS on this particular highway, you just never know where the proverbial gas stations and rest stops are going to be – so don’t skip them all!

Now…let’s see how well I practice what I preach. “Just keep driving, just keep driving….”