Saturday, February 27, 2010

A really cool voice

I've been reading a book, and in the way that one little thing leads to another, I was lead to a singer, who I'd never heard before, but now I have, and her voice is just so very nice.

The singer is Dawn Langstroth, and the song is Tonight You Belong to Me. Enjoy.

Now, without g00gling, guess the title and author of the book that led me to this singer.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

My two cents on the Olympic coverage

Gross me out. I just did some channel surfing to find me some non-hockey Olympics to watch, and all those horrible tabloid shows are honing in on the skater chickie whose mom died a few days ago. Stay the hell away from her, you freaking vultures. Does she really need the tabloids circling her at this point? What's going on here?

You know what, it's tears p0rn. I actually hate the "normalization" of that word, and apologize for using it. But that's what it is. The media during these Olympics is fetishing tears, and they're on the hunt for them no matter what. Watch the medal presentations where they zoom in on each gold-medal winner's eyeball, hoping they at least for chrissakes well up.


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Toot and Puddle, meet Fleishers

Last night, I was sitting on the couch reading a book while Charlie watched TV. He was watching a show called Toot and Puddle. Gross, I know. Anyway T&P are cartoon pigs that go places and laugh a lot.

The book I was reading was Cleaving: a story of Marriage, Meat and Obsession, that describes (among other things) learning the art of butchery. The very page I was on as I looked up at Toot and Puddle had a pencil drawing of two pig's heads. The chapter describes what's done with them to make headcheese. I find Toot and Puddle irritating. Now, do the math.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Enough whining about the TTC

I'm still not well, however, I did attempt to get to work, after sleeping in to try to get some energy back. At 11, I got up, got dressed, got outside and got on the bus, which came promptly. By the time we got to the subway station I knew I needed to go back home to bed.

So I called my boss, and got on the bus going home. The bus driver, a big guy with a crinkly smile and a long, blond ponytail, said a friendly good morning to me - which reminded me that the other driver had also done so - as do most drivers every single morning.

Which reminded me that the TTC staff I've encountered every day over the 20-odd years I've lived in this city - with very few exceptions - have been friendly, courteous, polite and ready to joke about the weather (cold enough for ya? hot enough for ya?) or answer questions.

The friendly driver today also gave directions to two young fellows travelling with a Lonely Planet guide to Canada (whoa! that's pretty general, eh guys), and when I got off the bus at my stop, he said, "have a good day, darlin'". I seriously like being called "darlin'", especially when I'm feeling like hell and am going back to bed.

There's so much in the news these days about the TTC's failings, and I agree it's way dirtier than it was back in the 80s. But when it's so underfunded, you gotta cut somewhere.

And the improvements must be acknowledged - like elevators in many of the stations - let me tell you, it sure was nice having those elevators back when Charlie was in a stroller. And accessible buses also are much easier to get in and out of, again especially when you have a stroller. And, we forget about this in the winter, but the air conditioning on not just the subway, but on most of the buses is pure ambrosia on a humid summer day.

So there. Three cheers for the TTC. I'm going to try to get me one of these buttons.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Farmville 13 Mystery Box

Over the past week or so, Charlie's been working away at a tune on the piano. He does this with tunes he hears and likes, but with this one, M3I and I couldn't place where we'd heard it, or if we'd heard it.

So I asked Charlie what the tune was, and the reply was something like "Farmville 13 Mystery Box". I was like, huh? So he brought me over to the computer and we found it on ewetoob. Take a listen and a look-see.

It's Hey There, Delilah by the Plain White Ts, and it's lovely, isn't it? Catchy too. Also sounds very sweet when played on the piano by Charlie boy, who's expanding our listening horizons every single day.

PS: It's come to my attention that not everybody knows about the cool mystery boxes you can "gift" on Farmville. Or even what Farmville is. Farmville's a game on Facebook - Charlie and I do a lot of farming. And, if you value your spare time, you'll be happiest if I tell you no more about it. Stay away; and consider yourself warned.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

A sweet memory about two men on a plane

Out of the blue today I had a memory about two men who sat in front of me on an airplane years ago.

The flight was to Vancouver from Beijing, and had 44 babies included on the passenger roster, which was mostly filled with the new parents of the babies, with a small number of business men. All of us on the plane knew this, since the priority call for "passengers with small children" left only a small group of men (all laughing at what lay ahead) to wait for the final call.

I was on the flight with a dear friend and we indeed had a beautiful baby stretched out on our laps (a story for another day).

The man directly in front on me was on his own (no spouse or helper travelling with him) with his tiny mite - she was cute as a button, until takeoff when she started crying at top volume, as did many of the babies. Once the plane reached altitude and the seatbelt light went off, the new dad was starting to look very uncomfortable and apologetic. Beside him was an older Chinese man wearing a business suit. The older man spoke no English; the young new father no Mandarin.

Roughly an hour later, when "our" baby was asleep on our laps and we could smell the food beginning to be served, the baby on the lap of the man in front of me continued her crying, with the giant O of her crying mouth taking up her entire little face.

Eventually, someone from the dad's travelling group came by with an antihistamine for the baby - he didn't have any and it was clear the baby needed something, most likely for her ears (and his... and ours).

At last, the baby fell asleep over her dad's shoulder. Then his meal was served, the attendant putting it on the tray in front of him - and seeing his predicament, she cut it up for him so he could use one hand. The older man beside him got his meal too, and started to eat.

It was soon clear to us that the dad couldn't eat; the way the baby was slung on his shoulder made it impossible for him to even reach his fork. And no way was he going to move her now that she was asleep. Poor guy, we thought.

The older gentleman picked up the young dad's fork and very nicely fed him.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Be smart. Get the flu shot.

If you haven't already done so, and if it's available to you, I beg you, for the love of Pete, get the G.D. flu shot.

Because I've got it and it's nasty, and it's probably not even H1N1. Maybe it was a terrible cold that turned into the flu, I dunno. But I can't get warm, and then finally when I do get warm, I'm pouring with sweat, and nope it ain't menopause this time around. I'm extremely fatigued but I can't even sleep right now because every time I lie down, all the horrid "flu"-id drains into my lowest nostril and then runs like a tap. I turn over, it all drains over to the lower side again. And if you don't like the sound of that, then get the flu shot.

In addition, I'm having trouble clearing my lungs, which means breathing - and if none of this speaks to you, get this: I've now been sick since Jan. 20.

Which means this horrid bug has taken up a lot of my personal and professional time. This is my seventh sick day this year. My husband is sick too, as was my son (he's still coughing, but seems to have bounced back otherwise).

Last fall there were numerous impassioned - and very polarized - debates in our office kitchen about whether or not to get the shot.

I say get it.

To get the shot, call your doctor's office or nearest walk-in clinic, and go get that precious jab.

Thursday, February 4, 2010


So now I'm sick as a bear. I finally got to see a doctor, via a walk-in clinic at the Ph@rma Plus nearby. There were only three people ahead of me, and the doctor was nice and even gave me a bunch of sympathy, saying "Whoa, that throat looks really sore". She tested me for strep, which came out negative. But she said my lower right lung sounded back. So I'm on antibiotics, I bought some acidopholus, and I got her to write me a note for work.

Why didn't I go to my regular GP? Every time I called her office (she shares space with a bunch of other medical folk), the line was either busy or the voicemail said they were closed (sadly, the voicemail doesn't take messages). I know she's quite distressed about the admin sitation there, and well she should be.

In other news:
On Monday, I saw an ad for a new (I think it's new) radio station, based in Hamilton, called Vinyl 95.3 - which is right up my alley. Actually what attract my eyes to the ad was the font - check it out:

So I'm streaming it live right now, playing Innocence by Harlequin! I actually saw them at a high school dance in Gravenhurst - I even had a date (right, Kim?). Hearing that tune just makes me giddy.

OMG, they even take requests!