Happy New Year!

Dear Friends,
Year after year, I welcome the New Year by resuming my commitments, since I always have something that I need to do less or more of. But this first day of January, instead of making the same old new promises and plans, I decided to empty my bucket list, as soon as possible, before my determination and enthusiasm waltz down the slippery road of idleness.  
As silly as it sounds, I'm giving up my "unalienable right" to pursue happiness because now, I know for sure that I'll never be happy, although I'm adept at having a good time (I'm not even American, what was I doing following their constitution, FGS)! 
An important component of happiness is peace. Unfortunately, due to certain kismet malfunction and personal failure, I will never be at peace with myself, but I'm willing to reconcile with my lot.
From now on, my independence consists of Life and Liberty! I'm leaving the right to chase dreams to those who have strong legs and clear visions. 
Let the good times roll, is my resolution for the next twelve months, might as well remain in my comfort zone! 

Holiday Insight!

Dear Friends,

I can't believe I stayed away from my blog for so long! Not that I didn't have anything noteworthy to say, I simply didn't have the time to share. Or, as a wise man once said, it's not a matter of time, but priority. 

Opération Décoration - done! 
Housewarming and Birthday Parties - done! 
Chanukah, Christmas and Kwanzaa Cheers - done! 

Last night, I returned to my solitude by the lake, not only to detox my body, but also to reset my mind. 
God Bless all the traditions and celebrations, they do take a toll on me. 
Aside from a few unwelcome pounds and hangovers, I also gained a valuable insight; I will never be a full fledged, published author, because I'm definitely a social animal.

Lonely must be the life of real writers! 

It is a Wonderful Profession!

Dear Friends,  
Last week, I saw a charming play called, It's a Wonderful Life. Could never sit throughout the movie, but thoroughly enjoyed VOS production in Cobourg. It made me think of my own purpose in life. Unlike George Bailey, I haven't saved anyone's life, altered the course of anyone's life, or helped anyone make a life-changing decision. Unless my granddaughters do one of the above, I'll say my birth has been to no purpose. For the past sixty years, I've been an extra, in the background. 
Today, however, I arrived at a different conclusion. As tired and stressed as I am, as absent-minded and irritable as I am, I can't help but marvel at my students' progress, socially, emotionally and academically. Every piece of work they produce, every little problem they solve, every "Bonjour Madame" in the morning, and every hug at the end of the day proves to me that it is a wonderful life! After all, grade one is a big adjustment. My purpose in life, is to make it easier and merrier, both for my students and their parents! 
Of course, with only 12 days left to the finish line (with two weeks Christmas break in the middle), the tunnel is inundated with light, or as we say in Farsi, my quail is singing like a rooster!

Amen!

Dear Friends,
As I'm watching the bare, flat landscape that lies between Cobourg and Toronto rush by me, I can't help but compare the speed at which the train is moving to the passage of time, in general. Already into the eight day of December, already 6 weeks of teaching behind me! So much has happened in the past few months; sell one property, only to buy another; retire, only to go back to work, go to the lake, only to return to the city. Suddenly I realize that it's still my year — the year of the Wood Horse! I have two more months to make my mark, as if I haven't already done enough! I made us proud, worked hard at "running free, changing directions with small shifts in the wind and switching gears quickly".
Did I design my life to live up to my sign's characteristics, or did the ever shifting nature of Wood Horse ran my life? Either way, I should stop believing in astrology as the year of Wood Ram promises to be "a demanding and challenging year for the horse," full of intensity, quick changes and adversity!
As we say in Farsi, may God take pity on me!  

Life Under Duress!

Dear Friends,
Finally this morning, I got to see my new neighbourhood in the daylight, as for the past few days, I've been going to work in the dark, returning home in the dark. The tour of the village set me back $$$! This is my rationale, and I'm sticking to it! 
As a general rule, I try to stay away from public transportation. Since for number of years, I used my legs, the faithful number 11, to take me to work and beyond, I had forgotten what moving with the masses looked like; yawning, eating, spilling coffee, reading, sleeping, farting, knitting, applying foundation and mascara, and fiddling with electronics. All we need to make public transportation a real home away from home, are a few toilet bowls. I'm old-fashioned, I sit and stare at people, unless there is an unstable person on board, yelling and swearing, in which case I close my eyes and start praying! On numerous occasions I had to get off the train, or the bus, to shield myself from someone's insanity. My commute is always followed by NOISE! Noisy students in the morning, noisy fridge, fan and train that passes by my window, at night. 
Now, if this body-under-duress doesn't deserve a few new outfits, I don't know what does!

Liberty Village

Dear  Friends,
Thirty-four years ago yesterday, I woke up in a strange bed, in unfamiliar surroundings, just like I did yesterday morning. Except, this time, it was by choice. Since my first night in Canada, November 28, 1980, I've lost my softness, faith, innocence and trust. In the process, I've gained two degrees, a career, two divorces, a pension, and two properties. Nothing to grieve, nothing to celebrate, merely an exchange of goods.
As much as waking up far from my revolution-ridden homeland meant deliverance, waking up in Liberty Village, over three decades later, felt more like real freedom. In order to honour the cosmic coincidence, for a year, I'm going to live as if I have only one year to live. Of course, such insane modus operandi will justify extravagance and excuse out-of-character behaviour, such as giving up making promises or commitments. I'll be a mood worshiper, I'll go where my mood takes me, I'll eat, do and buy what my mood tells me.
According to an ancient Turkish folk character, Nasr-Al-Deen, good judgement comes from experience, experience comes from bad judgement. So, let the games begin!

Romance

Dear Friends,
Many, many years ago, a refined, wise woman (God bless her soul) told a bunch of not-so-young, but green women, that the secret to happiness was to always have something to look forward to. 
The other day, I read an article in Psychology Today (November/December 2014) that touched on the same concept, calling it "anchoring yourself in the future."
As much as I look forward to spending weekends in Cobourg, and visiting my family and friends in Toronto, I've come to realize that tough times do indeed require desperate measures (we are still talking about me surviving my longterm teaching assignment in the heart of winter)! 
What I need, I believe, is a short-term, part-time Romance! Something to take my mind off my predicament, "an investment in, a distraction through, an excitement about something ahead".
Thus, tonight, I walked into my bar with shopper's eye, as we say in Farsi. The usual Sunday prospects were present; the gigolo wannabe with a criminal record, the retired schoolteacher with vulgar genes, the awfully young-looking old man with different kind of vulgar jeans, the needy dog-sitter with puppy eyes and the overweight bon vivant car salesman. 
Your chances of finding romance in this joint, I whispered to myself, is as much as finding a needle in a haystack. 
So, I went ahead, and bought myself a studio, in a vibrant, cool area in Toronto! 
Home decorating always makes me happy, especially when it presents challenges. The simple act of jotting down what needs to be bought, has reenergized this old body and mind. 
Fully understanding that by the time I put the finishing touches on my masterpiece, I'll have to rent it out and move back to Cobourg, for now, I'm anchoring myself in romancing my new 420 Sq. Ft. home!

Survival Kit

Dear Friends,
I'm not as strong and patient as I used to be, students are definitely not as attentive and complying as they used to be, and some parents are as unreasonable as ever! But, as we have already established, my word is my honour, even if it kills me! It's not about striving, making or saving money anymore, it's about surviving the "growing" pains, as painlessly as possible!
Please note the following alterations to my after-school activities:

Monday        drinks with friends (the night is young, no need to rush home to make supper)!
Tuesday        drinks with friends, shopping (Monday's leftovers for supper)!
Wednesday   drinks and dinner with friends (doggy-bag for lunch)!
Thursday       manicure, drinks and dinner with my son (can't make supper or wash dishes)!
Friday            drinks with friends (no need to get to the train station an hour and a half early)!

P.S. Adding weight-gain and dehydration to the list of Body's complaints!
       Foreseeing attending AA meetings in February!

The Million-Dollar Question!

Dear Friends,
According to Mark Nepo (spiritual writer/philosopher), "There are no wrong turns, only unexpected paths." Well, this hiker, is getting tired of exploring!
Tonight, when I left work, well after 7 pm (parents-teacher meeting), I had a heart-to-heart with my heart. I advised her to get out of the classroom because neither Body or Vanity like what they see; dark circles under eyes, unsightly cuticles, brittle nails, blotchy, flakey skin, grinding teeth at night, and many more wrinkles. Obviously, Pride and Integrity, foe to self-preservation, will not return to sanity. As a friend pointed out, at least now I know for sure that I made the right decision to retire. However, the million-dollar question remains, how to survive this unexpected turn of events (long term substitute teaching)?

Scale of Justice

Dear Friends,                   
As I'm getting ready to head back to Toronto, I realize that sometimes, you have to let go of little pleasures in life, like lavender bubble bath, comfortable room temperature, favourite TV shows, to experience the essence of life — spending time with loved ones, mending the past, weaving the future, or simply experiencing an incredible sense of accomplishment. Of course, it would be nice to have everything under the same roof at all times, but then, it won't be fair to the less fortunate. I certainly don't wish to add, tilting the scale of justice, to my long list of sins.

Never on Mondays!

Dear Friends,
Universe doesn't just work in mysterious ways, it also works in cruel ways! Everything that pushed me towards retirement (early mornings, cold winds, commuting, lunch on wheels, report cards), found its way back to me! I would be lying if I said I'm not enjoying being in the classroom again. I would be lying if I said I'm not enjoying doing what I'm good at; however I also would be lying, if I said I don't question my sanity, at least once a day!
Today, seven days into my Séjour in Toronto, as I'm sitting in my wifi-equipped coffee shop, longing for the lake, the farmer's market and my Sunday band, Phlo, I realize that the beauty of being a retiree, or a substitute teacher, is in having more options. 
Thus, I proclaim, never on Mondays! 
Henceforward, I shall be seen on the Friday-afternoon train to Cobourg, and the Monday-night train to Toronto. What I did during the week in Cobourg (yoga, photography, cross word puzzles, scouting different social groups), pleasantly engaged, only my mind. My heart, is still in the classroom, although my tired body says otherwise. Work in Toronto, party in Cobourg — a perfect lifestyle, as oxymoronic as it sounds!  
Most often, universe does work to accommodate us, if we let it! To contradict Virginia Woolf (A Room of One's Own), sometimes, the  need to hurry, the need to sparkle fulfill the need to be nobody else, but oneself.  

Room & Board

Dear Friends,
Recalculating! Recalibrating! Readjusting!
In order for me to cover the cost of my frequent visits to Toronto ( and my winter wardrobe), I need to work more than couple of days a month. Thus, when the opportunity came up to work in the same classroom for a few weeks, I jumped at it. In order to be able to work day in, day out, I had to make my living conditions more pleasant. As they say in the business world, gotta spend money to make money! Cleaning products — $$, Laundry card — $$,  small appliances (kettle, coffee maker, humidifier, iron, alarm clock) — $$$. I didn't go as far as painting or remodelling, but I washed, scrubbed, polished and filled the fridge and the cupboards with good wholesome food.  It was a freshly baked pie short of a feel-good movie, where the protagonist, finally, finds her suitable, but shabby place, and makes it her own. Everything has a price, some people like to call it compromise. My son provides room, I provide board. As long as we continue to communicate with each other honestly and respectfully, we will be just fine, whether living part-time under the same roof, or apart.
Best of all, my neighbours in Cobourg offered to look after my plants, and my two-year-old goldfish, Su (Shi passed away in August).

 

Love Me, Love Me Not?

Dear Friends,
Far from me to try to solve the mysteries of human behaviour. However, I've come to conclude that there are only two types of people out there; the self-preservers and the self-destructors. It doesn't really matter wether you are a left brainer or a right brainer, an extrovert or an introvert, a taker or a giver. What matters is whether you live to preserve, or to destroy yourself.
As cliché-ish as it may sound, if as a child your emotions and ideas were taken into consideration, you learned that you are valuable. On the other hand, if you were ignored or disparaged, you learned that you are dispensable. Of course, once you grow up and gain control of your life, you can always move to the greener pastures. It's difficult, but not impossible. So many miserable children managed to deprogram their inner voices and become self-assured, self-loving adults.
We should all start our day by asking ourselves this, "What is my objective today, to preserve or to destroy myself? Will my thoughts, feelings, activities, diet and interactions enrich my soul, or impoverish my spirit?" 
I'm still walking around with poison in one pocket, antidote in the other, but I'm learning to recognize the signs. Although my mind continues to play tricks on me, I've learned that my body never lies. And then, right when I think I've behaved self-destructively, I realize that sometimes, self-preservation comes in disguise. 

Lessons Reinforced!

Dear Friends,
As an avid pupil of school of life, I've acquired the wisdom to treat my experiences as learning, growing opportunities. After three days of substitute teaching, in three different schools, I have the following to report:

Substitute teaching is not as easy as everyday teachers believe it to be. Being responsible for a group of unrecognizable faces and unfamiliar names is challenging! 
Lesson reinforced — walk a mile in someone else's shoes before passing judgement!

Thinking it would be nice to go by my first name this time around, I asked students to call me Lili, but then, the entire day, I referred to myself as Madame! 
Lesson reinforced — old habits die hard!

From west to east to north, all schools have sour pusses, all classrooms have rebel rousers, and all offices have at least one insecure authority figure who wouldn't mind ruining your day! 
Lesson reinforced— wherever you go, God's sky is one colour (Farsi saying). 

I spent half a day with 20 first graders, reached for the wine as soon as got home. I will definitely eliminate Kindergarten from my list of classifications. 
Lesson reinforced — always keep a bottle of Merlot handy!   

Faulty GPS

Dear Friends,

The GPS inside my head is worse than the one in my ex-husband's car, it keeps recalculating and recalculating! Finally, an hour ago, the little voice was able to take me where I needed to be, at the corner of understanding and acceptance. 

I realized that I definitely wasn't going to get rich on substitute teaching pay, thus no need to stress over finding assignments. One day here, one day there (with plenty of advanced notice), planning or executing other teacher's plans will suffice to keep my creative mind on her toes.

The last few days have also taught me that my son doesn't need 24-hour supervision. He just wants my support, and maybe a couple of home-cooked meals. Thus, no need to take his pulse every two minutes.

As far as "vacationing" goes, Oprah says, you have to look after yourself, before you can take care of others. Thus, today, sitting on a massage-chair, getting a pedi, followed by a long-overdue visit with a friend, was exactly what the guru had advised.

Tonight, in my home away from home, adorned with wifi, I believe that what I thought would be "the best of both worlds" can still be. I feel calm, confident and positive. It could be the cheap white wine talking, or the thrill of returning to the lake tomorrow.
I'm sure my faithful faulty GPS will be only too happy to recalculate, if need be.

Vagabond in Toronto

Dear Friends,
Sometimes when I write, I get very confused. For the longest time I didn't know why. One day, as writer's block led to frustration, and frustration to serious self-criticism, I realized that I have the tendency to squeeze too many ideas into the same post. Eventually, recognizing the signs, I learned to sit back and ask myself, Lili, what's exactly your angle?
This evening, as I dragged my tired feet to the neighbourhood Coffee shop, to connect electronically with the world outside of my head, I had an epiphany! My presence in Toronto, had way too many angles! No wonder I felt as miserable as I did last night! Was I vacationing, looking after my child, or making money supply teaching? Each of these purposes entails a separate set of properties. Of course, it would be great if I could do all the above and remain sane, but I can't. Next time I pack my bags for Toronto, I will have much clearer objectives. Until then, I shall have another cookie!

La Miserable

Dear Freinds,
Recently, Big Brother, whoever he is, whether sitting on the Facebook wall, or peeking through my choices on YouTube, has decided to post a variety of links on my behalf, like Tom Cruise watches one movie a day! Did I ever express interest in the pretty boy? No, not recently anyway! Every time I see something on my timeline that I didn't put there myself, I deleted with vengeance! Tonight, once again, my eyes befell on an unsolicited link. Except this time, the title spoke to me. It had something to do with feelings (I wonder whether Big Brother reads my blog). When I tapped on "read more", and ended up on a useless site about cars, I realized that Big Brother is not a competent spy, after all (I don't drive)! To make a long story short, I didn't get to read the article, but I gathered this much - feelings don't lie.
As I'm sitting here in a neighbourhood coffee shop with wifi, drinking gallons of cafeinated beverages, (my son doesn't have Internet), what I'm feeling puts to rest any doubt I might've had about retiring and moving out of Toronto.
I had a great day in one of the most organized classrooms. I felt needed, respected and liked, but right now, I feel tired, uncomfortable, out of sync and rather lonely. I don't think I will be good at commuting, or spending my evenings amongst strangers, looking for available assignments on line.
Back to the drawing board, what does Lili want to do when she retires?

Dead Reckoning

Dear Friends,
Our lives would be so much simpler, if we learned to live by our sayings, like, never say never, or, it ain't over till the fat lady sings! But no, we all have to take the road most travelled; dismiss popular wisdom in favour of firsthand experiences! 
I've decided to go to Toronto periodically, to spend time with my son, and to work as a substitute teacher. It doesn't mean that my life will go from good to better or from good to bad, it just means that I'm changing course. 
As much as I want to see my former colleagues and students, as much as I'll have plenty of working days at my old school, I can't really go home again. My perfect exit didn't leave room for a re-entry! Instead of eating my words or swallowing my pride, I rather cut off my nose (it's too big anyway)! In the process, I shall visit new schools and forge new relationships.

“Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep on going. Don’t freeze up.” 
― Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

Serendipity

Dear Friends,
Today's posting started as a quick e-mail to a friend, recounting my weekend, but somehow it developed a life of its own, and Voilà! 
A few days ago, contemplating a trip to Nashville, I googled Grand Ole Opry. Well, ticket prices, starting at 195 US dollars, sure dampened my interest! 
But then, last Sunday, Universe proved, once again, that it works in mysterious ways!
As part of my "keep busy productively" program, I had bought a ticket to a country music concert. With all my enthusiasm for hillbilly tunes, the last thing I expected was to be transported to Natural High Zone, where, as much as you feel your existence with utmost intensity, you don't really exist anymore. Seated at a small round table, surrounded by five strangers in their eighties, I felt my emotions climb up all the way from my gut to my eyes, not because I was sad or happy, but simply because I was capable of feeling. I was capable of letting the music, the lyrics, the voices touch me.
Although I'm neither christian, nor romantically involved, I keep humming the following two lines from two different songs, over and over:

If you are just making memories, you'll have to wait your turn, ...cause I've got memories to burn. (Memories to Burn)
... but now that I know that I've needed you so, help me Jesus, my soul's in your hand. (Why Me Lord?)

No need to sigh after Grand Ole Opry! The Sweet Water Band, in the heart of downtown Cobourg, will do just fine!
Of course I ran out this morning, and bought a ticket for the December performance. I believe I've developed a Crazy Crush on Dusty King Jr.! Strangely enough, he didn't sing either of those two songs!

Dusty King Jr.

Monkey see, Monkey feel!

Dear Friends,
This afternoon, I had an amazing revelation! I was watching a movie "On Demand," when all of a sudden I realized that I was sitting on the edge of my futon, with clenched hands and jaw, waiting in suspense, for tragedy to hit the protagonist. Scene after scene, nothing! My anticipation of disaster grew into disappointment. Is this all there is to this movie, I wondered, a simple story without death, violence, betrayal? Not even a missed opportunity, a handful of regrets? That's when I realized that what I watch regularly on TV has trained me to expect horrible twists at every turn, just like certain events in my life have taught me to expect more mishaps. As I drew a parallel between my reactions while watching the movie and my state of mind in general, I walked away from "Chef" with a two-fold message; what my eyes feast on at night contributes to my fears, and my newly acquired pessimism is merely a programming issue. 
As Oscar Wild put it so wisely, Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life. Most filmmakers imaginations are destroying vulnerable minds and emotions. This Monkey, will definitely practise more discretion, the next time she plants herself in front of the box!

BE HAPPY, DAMMIT!

Dear Friends,
To say that I have a strong desire to find peace and happiness, is definitely an understatement. For the past twenty-five years, I've been reading, digging, questioning and examining, tapping into optimism, listening to the wise and subscribing to the school of positive thoughts, surrounding myself with meaningful objects and encouraging affirmations. Heck, from October 2011 to June 2012, I published 166 postings on my gratitude blog. http://www.lilisgratitude.blogspot.ca  
Recently, I've adorned my timeline with uplifting pictures, messages and links. Slowly, but firmly, I've changed, finding joy in insignificant daily activities, such as holding a hot cup of tea between my fingers, on a rainy day, or a hot shower at the end of a long day. Even now, caught between two generations of whiners, I try to battle my demons by finding pleasure in watching the tides chase each other, in turning down my bed an hour before joining it, or in solving crossword puzzles. 
If you happen to be a member of the Sandwich Generation Club, you know, as well as I do that,  
"No one is in charge of your happiness, except you," or "... you are the author of your dream... " are simply beautiful lines. My new mantra comes from Haruki Murakami's 13th novel, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, "You can hide memories, but you can't erase the history that produced them." I can attest to that, every hour of every day. Nonetheless, may I just shout, from the top of my lungs, BE HAPPY, DAMMIT, so I can stop feeding my guilt — literally!

In-Between

Dear Friends, 
Fall has officially arrived, with very little consideration for Miss Summer who is having trouble gathering up her skirts and leaving. 
I, personally, feel in-between seasons, in every sense of the word. I don't know what I'm getting into tomorrow, as much as I don't know what I'm going to wear. If it's a warm sunny day, I shall be light, if it's a cold rainy day, I shall bring out the umbrella, the gloves, and make the best of it! 
In-between has a "dangling" property, an unsettling sense of being neither here nor there. 
In-between jobs, cities, sizes, and in my case, in-between phases of life. But in reality, in-between is an unappreciated present. We have the tendency to fill this cradle of opportunities with complaints, doubts and impatience. While we are not here, nor there, we might as well enjoy our suspension, because either here or there, is definite, entailing rules, routines and commitments that tie us down. 

birds in-between destinations

The Party at the End of the World!

Dear Friends,
As much as I hate dying, and leaving behind a body for people to visit, I've made lovely plans for the after-viewing.
One summer evening, many, many years ago, I realized that my favourite dance spot in Toronto was dead smack in front of a funeral home. Looking for any excuse to philosophize, I kept saying to myself, 'Lili, enjoy life, death is across the street!' And then I thought, what a brilliant idea, after visitation, mourners can come straight to the reception. I leaned forward and told my friend to make sure that a spoonful of my ashes is spread somewhere in the vicinity of the dance floor, where I feel the freest. 
Tonight, as I was tapping my feet to Jimmy Buffett's The Party at the End of the World, I noticed that my favourite joint in Cobourg, is also dead smack in front of a funeral home!
Far be it from my little brain to solve this cosmic puzzle. I'm just happy that whether I die in Toronto or in Cobourg, my ashes will end up at the feet of some musician. 

"You surely must attend

                                The party at the end of the world"

LIFE

DEATH

Truth Be Told!

Dear Friends,
Taking a page out of Oprah's magazine, I know for sure that:
1. I will never act my age because I don't feel my age.
2. I will never reach Nirvana because I'm incapable of just being.
3. I can do crossword puzzles in English
4. If I don't get fully dressed in the morning, putting on a brassiere later in the day proves to be very challenging.
5. Parenthood is like Hotel California, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave!
6. There is a blurry line between relaxation, laziness and depression.
7. People with stupid notions shouldn't be allowed to talk because they influence impressionable minds!
8. Dancing gives me temporary amnesia (what a blessing)!
9. Water has mood elevating properties, whether before my eyes, on my skin or in my body. 
10. I will never fully like, or accept myself.

Trouble in Paradise!

Dear Friends,
Cobourg and I are not getting along!
The local free publications don't need another opinion-piece-writer. The neighbourhood school hasn't called yet, and we all know what happened at the art gallery. Most importantly, my small-town romantic fantasy remains sterile. No handsome out-of-towner, no prominent local, not even an inappropriately younger country boy! Only a few rejectee barflies who return the following week with women half-my age, just to prove a point! I certainly have picked the wrong season to raise my standards!
So, when a friendly neighbour invited me to check out Probus, I agreed. Not in the hope of meeting someone, but in order to find out what else I could do with my time, aside from taking pictures, eating and cursing at the TV. 
Probus is a large social group that meets twice a month, at 9am, in Cobourg Lion's Community Centre. It has a board of directors, a few committees, a treasurer, a monthly newsletter and a vast calendar of events (lunches, brunches, dinner-theatres, concerts, trips). Most members are in their seventies, but they are astonishingly fit and chic. No signs of stretch pants or polyester. I'm talking designer frames, colour coordination, accessories, decent haircuts and quite a bit of makeup!
The meeting started with the singing of the national anthem, which reminded me of school, and then went on and on, which also reminded me of school! It seems that reading off handouts is a common practice, at any meeting. Right before reaching the edge of boredom, I heard the words "decorating" and "Halloween". My raised hand was met with applause! The lady in charge, happy to have found a juvenile volunteer, took down my name and number!
The meeting ended with a long, dry presentation, to raise funds for a charitable organization. That also reminded me of school.
Except for the picture of Queen Elizabeth, who kept looking at me disapprovingly, the white tablecloths and fresh danishes, it seemed as if I had sat through a staff meeting at school.
Do I really want to join another institution?

Sexy, invisible or eccentric!

Dear Friends,
Recently, I saw a program on the subject of female sexuality. The speaker claimed that today's beauty and youth crazed society has given its female population only two choices, to be sexual or to remain invisible.
Since sexuality bade farewell while ago (the ingrate), and I don't do invisible very well, I tried my hand at writing, decorating, even taking a small town by storm! Alas, no public recognition, only my friends'. What is an obscure, moneyless single older woman to do? Become eccentric, in her looks, behaviour, and pictures she takes.
If you run into a speedy woman with large cat-eye sunglasses and hot pink sneakers (and devil knows what in-between), smile, it's me, playing being seen! If you see a relatively short pair of legs wrapped in a long bright red skirt, hanging from a bar stool, smile, it's me, playing being seen!
What you think of me, doesn't really matter. As long as you smile, smirk or laugh, I'm visible.

Joan Rivers

Dear Friends,
The first few days of my sixties went something like this; detox, detox, detox and live vicariously through my friends who are still working teachers. And then Joan Rivers dies! 
I get very attached to celebrities who visit my living room on a regular basis. Losing one of them is like losing a part of myself. 
Joan Rivers was one of the most politically incorrect women of my time and I loved her for it. She always said what we only dared to think. Most importantly, she used humour to deal with her own mortality and imperfections. Me too, I like poking fun at myself. 
Best of all, she gave her daughter the finest gift a parent can give her children; she claimed she had an amazing life and made light of her death. I admire her for that!
Rest in peace, Joan Rivers, and thank you for restoring my right to bare legs :-)!

September Blues!

Dear Friends,
Although I have done a few idiotic things in my life, putting myself in some pretty strange situations, I do have a strong survival instinct (just like any other middle child). There is in me a certain stubbornness, almost an obsession that doesn't let me accept defeat. As Kenny Roger's Gambler advises, I know when to hold em, when to fold em, when to walk away, and when to run, be it from toxic relationships or strenuous circumstances. Thus, I retired and moved to Cobourg.
As much fun as it is to watch movies at midnight or live without an alarm-clock, I felt the September blues sneaking up on me. If I were an artist, I would've painted in colours of nostalgia, if I were a composer, I could've written a melancholic sonata. I tried my hand at versing my blues, but it didn't come out right. I'm still a teacher, and I need to be where I'm needed, in the classroom, at least for  a while longer. Since I haven't forgotten about poor management, difficult parents, last minute changes, untimely deadlines or unwelcome initiatives, I have no desire to belong to the institution. However, I found the secret to my survival - sailing across classrooms without having to drop anchor.
Tomorrow, I will cross the threshold of a school near me, to volunteer my services for the upcoming academic year. I feel energized, purposeful.
I wish all teachers and learners, especially my friends, former colleagues and students a rewarding year, full of purpose, patience, and positivity. May your uniqueness be noted, your contributions recognized, and your achievements celebrated!

Damn Sixties!

Dear Friends,
Ten years ago today, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, damn I look good for fifty! Perhaps it was grief of losing my father in the spring talking, or my deteriorating eyesight. But, I kept repeating Gloria Steinem's famous line to everyone who complimented me that year, "This is what 50 looks like!"

This morning, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, damn, my face looks like a raisin, brownish and shrivelled! I rushed to google Gloria Steinem's quotes. "Sixties are better!" She had claimed. Clearly, my reflection in the mirror was saying otherwise. None of the catchy phrases that I had so gullibly lined up for this decade of my life (the sexy sixties, the sultry sixties, the seductive sixties, the slutty sixties, the serene sixties) matched my face body or mood! 
I can understand gravity, wrinkles, pigmentation, but where did the eyebrows and eyelashes go? And who told the ears to grow? Scary Sixty! 

 

Crimes of Fashion!

Dear Friends,
Certainly, I can't afford most of what makes the pages of fashion magazines, nonetheless I buy them , to look at the colourful, glossy pictures, particularly in September issue of Vogue  and Instyle, to get ideas for my modest fall and winter wardrobe. However, this season's "warm and fuzzy," splattered across the pages (raccoon, coyote, mink, snake, rabbit, fox) has left me cold and flat. How can anyone justify killing so many animals? It's not bad enough that they kill them (surely they were not lying dead, on the roadside, waiting to be skinned), but they also have to paint them! 
Although I would have issues with faux-meat, I really don't understand what can possibly be wrong with faux-fur or faux-leather. And, as my friends can testify, I'm not even an animal lover. I can only imagine, how humane society feels about these crimes of fashion!
If animal fever is contagious, only god knows how many more have to be bred and sacrificed so some women, who don't even walk in the cold, can make a Fendi statement, at $3.500 a hood!  

Fragile Toes, Sharp Claws!

Dear Friends,
Nothing ruffles feathers of a small town folks more than an arrogant newcomer! The overzealous new kid in town, moi, have stepped on a few very fragile toes, at the art gallery.
"You may dust the shelves in the gift shop, but are not allowed to rearrange the merchandise!" I was accosted on the street, by one of the Mayflower descendants.
All I had done was distance mass produced "Made in China" items from local artists' objets d'art!
"The gift shop is ours, we merchandise, and need to know where things are." She added as she continued walking. I bet she lives behind one of these signs!

I didn't bother telling her that, not only the acting director had given me permission to do so, but she also had a few things to say about her and her buyer accomplice.
The animosity didn't end at the sidewalk. The volunteer position that I was offered in June, upon my visit with my students (I have witnesses), was given to someone else, fresh out of the woodwork.
"It was out of my hands," the acting director conveyed her regrets, "the board voted for Barb to be the Chair of Education and Outreach Committee."
Guess who sits on the board of directors and with whom Barb and Barb's mother hang out!
My first reaction was to withdraw altogether, from the Education and Outreach program, as well as the gift shop. The beauty of volunteering is in being able to walk away. But then, I decided to rein in my middle eastern temper and pride, and stick around to stick it to the board and its members!
Barb, a working itinerary teacher with some background in art, was patronizingly polite, full of ideas, chatty and definitely in control. She reminded me of my last French consultant who never sat through one of her ideas in a classroom.
The Chair of this small meeting this morning, was a gentleman who's supposedly in my corner, but he hadn't even looked at my proposal. I felt invisible, useless, and out of sorts for the rest of the day. However, I did my shift in the gift shop, with a smile on my face, and rearranged more than a few items, without dusting!

RIBFEST!

Dear Friends,
If you have cowboy genes or cowboy fantasies, you should've been in Victoria Park, Cobourg, this past weekend, for the annual RIBFEST, organized by Cobourg Rotary Club.
Two days of country music, cholesterol and smell of barbecue, one day of pouring rain!
Fundraising events are always for a noble cause, even if they entail charging people astronomical prices for heart-attack friendly food! Rightfully, some of the proceeds go to Northumberland Hospital!
A pair of boots short of a cowgirl, I went all three days. Day one, out of curiosity, day two to listen to my favourite local band, day three to eat! Victoria Park wasn't as populated as I expected it to be. The pre-fall temperatures and persisting rain, might have had something to do with it, or in my opinion, the prices. Gravitating towards comfy foods myself, especially under somber skies, I wanted to try everything, the rib, the pulled pork and the chicken leg. I wasn't going to pass up the deep-fried onion or potato either. Before I had a chance to complain about my gluttony, I was out fifty dollars! 
Corn on the cob $4.00
Meat Combo - $23.00
Buttermilk Biscuit $3.00
Blooming Onion - $10. 00
Butterfly Fries- $8.00
Beer - $10.00 
Of course, what I bought could've fed a family of four, well perhaps a family of four with small appetites. Although everyone present, including myself, could've done with less fat and more veggies, it was worth every ounce of incoming grease and outgoing penny! 

The RIB Masters! 

PHLO - my favourite local band!

Yet Another Epiphany!

Dear Friends,
As I checked my bank account, I realized that I needed to get on with Sears' application. So, I put on my walking shoes and headed towards the mall. With the premature autumn wind blowing in every direction, it didn't take me long to become cold and grumpy. So, I took out my iPhone and called a taxi, not to go to the mall, but return home. I sat on my patio with a cup of tea, played peek-a-boo with the boats moving in and out of the marina, and allowed my mind to take off without a compass. 
It must've been somewhere in the vicinity of Home-hardware store that I had my epiphany! 
I don't want to walk 35 minutes to get to the mall. I don't want to punch timecard at Sears, or anywhere else for that matter! I want to be a grasshopper, frolicking by the lake, without reproach! 

Mostly, I've lived a regimented life. I was responsible, followed instructions and worked hard. Slowly but surely, I saved, built, and finally brought myself to where I am now — sixty, retired, in Cobourg! True, I had my share of escapades, splurges and indulgences, but since my misbehaving or  consumption was always accompanied by guilt and self-punishment, it doesn't really count!

Of course, coming from a culture that invented the rainy day concept, and being brought up by a mother who saved her best nightgowns in case she had to go to the hospital, I'll be always a bit worried about when I'm seventy, eighty or even ninety (Inshallah), but for now, let the summer rule! 

I can already hear my mother's anxious voice "You need savings!"

Oh well, since I've chosen to sing now, I suppose, I'll be dancing all the way to a third-rate, government-subsidized nursing home, when and if the time comes!
As I think of Robin Williams, committing suicide, it becomes clear to me that having joie de vivre, is the utmost blessing. I might not have much wisdom or money, but I sure have joie de vivre, and I'm planning to nurture it all the way to bankruptcy! 

Magic Waves

Dear Friends, 
Coming from a small town, I can see now how, a big bad flavourful city can seem intriguing, full of potential and promises. However, as I return home, a few pounds heavier and more than a few hundred dollars lighter, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I love everything Cobourg offers me in the summer; swimming outdoors, cycling, paddling (yes, I took up paddling), the sun, the sky, the lake, live music on patios, movies and concerts in the park. Even its thunderstorms have a certain 'Je ne sais quoi'.

But, as my memory hangs on tightly to images of my granddaughters blowing me goodbye kisses, I feel dissatisfaction rising to the occasion. 

 "Why can't I have it all"? I complain to the flock of ducks resting on the beach. My ingratitude offends them. They fly away, leaving me alone with my picnic. 
Luckily, rhythmic waves ending their journey at my feet, bring me peace of acceptance. Once a month is not as good as once a week, but it's much better than once a year, I hear the breeze whisper in my ear. And that's how one part of mind takes over the other, till the next time....

Two sides of the same coin!

Dear Friends,
Since I will not be in Cobourg this Sunday (going to Toronto for my granddaughter's fifth birthday), I thought I check out my favourite local joint's Wednesday night band.
I loved the lead guitarist's voice. It was deep, husky, a cross between Isaac Hayes and James Brown! Very unusual for a white man. During the first break, looking into his blue eyes, I complimented him on his voice, he gave me his CD, I bought him a beer. During the second break, while sipping on my fourth glass of bubbly, I listened to him telling me that I was beautiful. I said he had a sexy voice. He gave me his card, said that he finds me interesting, would like to see me again. 
I left before the third set was over, right after he publicly dedicated a song to me!
At nine-thirty, walking home on a deserted boardwalk (off balance, I might add), swinging in the air my steak dinner to-go, I had an epiphany; maturity and fear are two sides of the same damn coin! 

Only if...!

Dear Friends,
I've lost track of my days in Cobourg. As I find comfort in establishing new routines, once again, the days of the week are starting to make sense. Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, volunteering at the gallery, Thursday, housekeeping, Saturdays, shopping at the farmers' market. Sundays, listening to live music at the local joint.
I love my work at the Art Gallery of Northumberland. At the moment, I volunteer in the gift shop. I fold and stuff newsletters in crisp white envelops, dust shelves, rearrange merchandise, sell a few items, greet patrons, answer calls, and my most favourite, shame visitors into making a donation. I wish I could do this a few days a week, and get paid for it, so I didn't have to look to Sears to support my vices (beautification, shopping, dining out, travel, art classes, personal trainer, cultural events). 
But, as Dr. Phil put it, ever so eloquently, you can't ride two horses with one ass, which I interpret as, you can't have everything!

On two feet maybe, if you are one of these, but not on one ass!

The Immigrant's ultimate Dream!

Dear Friends,
Tonight, I took myself out to dinner to the best restaurant in town - nothing ordinary there! However, the occasion was extraordinary! First, I raised a glass of bubbly to my health, wealth and happiness. Then, I accompanied the most delicious spaghetti and meet balls with a glass of Pinot Noir. Lastly, I toasted my cannoli with a shot of limoncello. When I deemed that the occasion had been honoured par excellence, I headed home, walking so ever slowly by the marina, taking it all in. Tonight, I was celebrating the end of a long affaire with The Toronto Dominion Bank. I'm debt-free! 
This morning, I paid off my mortgage and cleared my credit card balance! When I got home, I literally kissed my Visa card, thanked it for all services rendered and shoved it in the back of the bottom drawer of a well-hidden chest, right where all the hardships and anxieties belong.
Now, if realizing every immigrant's ultimate dream is not worthy of a celebration (both in cash and calories), I don't know what is!
The only flaw in the evening was that no one, but me, really cared - a price one pays for flying solo!

Five-dollar change!

Dear Friends,
Tall trees, rolling hills, a pond, a boathouse, a dock and an art exhibit— a scene out of a Hollywood movie.      
A travelling play, on a porch of a mansion in Canton, with two young actors — a page out of a romantic novel.
Neither the persistent mosquitos, nor the patchy drizzle could impede guests' enjoyment. The hosts were inconspicuous, patrons of art? Benevolent? Certainly not pretentious! Every lawn chair they had brought out, every umbrella they had passed out had genuine 'old money' written all over it!
Seated on a wooden bench, in the third row, I enjoyed every sip of my five-dollar Pinot Grigio and every word of David French's play. Although, a couple of times, my internal monologue interfered with the actors' dialogue. "How so gauche of you to ask for your change!" I reproached myself. But then, I thought, if I want to tag along with my new friends to all these fantastic fundraisers, well dressed and manicured, able to buy not one, but two glasses of wine, I better have the guts to ask for my five-dollar change!

Cobourg - Week One

Dear Friends,
One full week in Cobourg has entailed an afternoon at the art gallery (volunteering), thirty laps in the outdoor pool, a day at the beach with friends, lengthy walks, hours of unpacking and cleaning, ironing, shopping, shopping and shopping, listening to live music twice, and two thunder storms, one Hitchcock movie-worthy! It has been a very busy and educational week.

1. Down with minimalism! I don't like to look at bare walls (thus shopping)!
2. Power-walk by the lake — impossible! I simply have to stop and watch the ducks move so ever gracefully in the shimmering water.
3. iPad — a must companion, to take pictures and make poetic notes!
 4. Feeding myself — still a challenge, regardless of No-frills (at a good walking distance) or the Saturday farmer's market. Neither have the meat that I would like to eat!

Most importantly, I've learned that not everybody will appreciate or even acknowledge me, especially the blond, blue-eyed offsprings of the loyalists who founded the town! But, that's alright. I don't particularly like people who fence the beach and the lake, calling them their own! As if nature can be monogrammed!

Crimebourg!

Dear Friends,
Cobourg, Ontario's Feel Good Town, has turned into Crimebourg!
First, the thirty registered sex-offenders in the K9A postal code, covering Cobourg area (reported in May)! Then, D & W (drugs and weapons) bust in June! And now (July), the curator of Art Gallery of Northumberland charged with theft and fraud!
Busy little town, isn't it?! Can't wait to see what August brings about!