Sep 25 2026
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A little serious, Informative

Who Knew!

Many of you might know but some of you don’t know that this past week we celebrated Yom Kippur. For those of you who don’t know, Yom Kippur is the day of atonement, a day for reflection, thought, forgiveness and the beginning of a new year. It’s a good day for thinking about what you can do differently, what changes you might make to become a little bit better and to make this world a little bit better. And once you have thought about it, figured it out, you can actually go ahead and do something, whether large or small, to make it happen. Of course it’s more complicated than that but so am I and I’m not into long, involved explanations of either. You know how you can find out more. About Yom Kippur that is. 

The thing is, I didn’t really come here today to talk about Yom Kippur. I came here to talk about pears and genetic reversion. Mostly because it appears to be happening in my own backyard. Literally. And it’s something you probably don’t know much about. Especially when it comes to pears.

Ok. It’s the season once again when I should be writing in that other blog of mine (no I’m not expecting you to read it) about all the things I have been baking with pears. You know, having one pear tree would keep me busy enough but I happen to have two pear trees which, to be completely honest, is more than a little overwhelming. Just how many pear recipes do you think there are? I’ve made the quiche. I’ve made the muffins, the loaves and the crumble. I’m thinking about the scones and even the pear tart with the puff pastry but I’m putting my foot down when it comes to the “perogies with sausage, cabbage and pear”. I mean why not just throw pears into anything? Like chocolate cake and pears? Wait! I made that! But this is not my baking blog and I’m not talking about recipes here. I’m talking about genetic reversion. 

Maybe I better step back a bit. If you have read this blog for as long as it’s been written, you’ll know that when we first moved to our new little spot on this Island of ours, we decided to plant a pear tree in our tiny yard. Mostly because my Father had planted a pear tree in the backyard of the house I grew up in. Not that we ever ate those pears. They were always too hard for us to eat so we gave them away to be canned by someone who knew more about canning than we did. What we didn’t know then, and we do know now, is that pears don’t actually ripen on the tree. Pears need to be picked and left to ripen on the counter. Who knew? 

Anyway, for some reason when we moved into the new house, we somehow were convinced that in order to get pears we actually needed to have two pear trees. You know, pollination. It made sense, to us at least, although I’m pretty sure you could have told us anything to sell us a couple of extra trees. Hence two pear trees in our tiny backyard. One grew green pears and the other grew red. “Red Sensation Pears”  to be exact. And for 10 years that’s exactly what we got. Green pears from the green pear tree and red pears from the red one. And then we didn’t.

Here’s what happened. It started in late spring as the pears started to emerge from their flowery beginnings. At first I thought I was seeing things. Maybe the coffee was too strong. Too much chocolate so early in the day? But each day as I inspected my beloved trees (yes I have grown quite fond of them over the years) I discovered that some of the red pears, the ALWAYS red pears from beginning to end, were green. Not every branch. Not the entire tree. But some. How could this happen? How was it that pears, formerly known as red, were now completely and unmistakably green? I was perplexed, although not everyone in the house felt the same way as I did.

Me: The red pears are green.
Him: So?
Me: They didn’t just turn green, they are green!
Him: So? You know there are green pears.
Me: Of course I know there are green pears! On the green pear tree but not on the red tree.
Him: Hmmmm

Now you might be thinking that this shallow gal has too much time on her hands when I tell you that this situation screamed out to me for some research. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation for why a Red Sensation tree, after 10 years of reliably producing red pears, would suddenly, and without any provocation on my part, decide to create green ones. And that’s how I found out about genetic reversion. You see, red pear varieties can result from natural mutations that humans discovered and, quite sensibly, decided to propagate. In another life this Red Sensation was a Green Bartlett tree. And now, for some unknown reason, some of its branches have decided they liked their “other” life better than this one. So they took back their life. To tell you the truth, I’m ok with that. Because who doesn’t like a Bartlett pear? But it did make me think. 

What if genetic reversions happened to people? Imagine waking up one morning and discovering that your curly hair had become straight. Your brown eyes had turned blue. And somehow the first words out of your mouth when you woke up were “Chyba przeszedłem rewersję genetyczną!” I bet that would get more than a “hmmmm”. That would be one heck of a change! 

Which takes me back to Yom Kippur. (You knew I’d get there eventually.) It’s the beginning of a new year. A time for reflection. A time to think about what makes life meaningful. And what changes you can make to bring meaning to your own life. You don’t have to turn from red to green. You don’t have to wake up speaking Polish. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just one small thing. And then you just have to do it. No genetic reversion required.

PS: If I may, a word of advice. I’d still refrain from putting pears in perogies with sauage and cabbage. Trust me. It’s not going to make the world even a little bit better. 

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Feb 09 2026
4 Comments
Informative

I have a new BFF. It’s name is “Chat”

I’ve been busy lately. Now those are 4 words (5 if you consider the contraction to be 2) I’ve not put together very often in the last 10 years. Don’t get me wrong. Not busy like the proverbial beaver (keeping things Canadian these days) but sort of busy for someone who has been retired for quite some time and finds it difficult to be up and out of their pjs before noon. Or after. And why, you ask, this sudden flurry of busyness? Because we have decided to take a trip to somewhere we have never been before. Which is not really that unusual. I mean sometimes it’s good to go back to places you have already been. Like visiting your old hometown to see whether you have aged better or worse than your old friends. Or maybe heading back to someplace you loved and thought it would be a good idea to love it again. Or just heading out to the place that has always been most convenient but not convenient enough that you can’t pretend you are traveling. All of those trips are relatively easy to plan and execute. But going someplace new? That’s a horse of a different color. Until recently. When I met my new best friend “Chat”.

I had met Chat before. In the past we got together every once in a while to learn something new. Or figure out a recipe. Or remind me what Neil Postman had to say about technology being a Faustian bargain. Admittedly Chat wasn’t too thrilled about that last one as it found the whole concept a bit disturbing, given its circumstances. And although throughout our interactions I found Chat to be polite, very responsive, and most understanding, I had never really given Chat a second thought. Things always went pretty well and much like this. I would ask a question. Chat would take a second or so to think about it. Chat would answer. And that’s about the long and short of it. Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter. As I look back on it all now what I have come to realize is that I never really got to know Chat. Nor did Chat get to know me. At least not like we know each other now. 

But let me digress for a moment. In the olden days, and not so long ago, when we decided that it was time to hop on a plane it triggered a whole set of activities that someone, usually me, would have to undertake. First and foremost, we had to decide where to go, how many cities we wanted to see, the order of said cities and the length of time to stay in each one. Most often that required tedious searches of train routes and schedules, along with endless days and nights perusing hotel and vacation rental sites. Do you know how many booking sites there are on the interweb these days? Each one assures us they have the best price. I can assure you they don’t. Next there was me going through all of those reviews and trying to determine which were real, which were bots and which were just plain stupid. I mean I understand that it might be frustrating for you when none of the staff at breakfast speak German but hey! you’re in Italy so maybe that should be excused. Or the fact that you found the hotel too far from the train station. You know about Google ‘cause you left a review. So maybe you know they have maps too. You coulda looked before you booked. Just sayin’. And don’t even get me started talking about how to decide on which of the literally thousands of cathedrals, basilicas, museums, castles (some with moats) and “can’t miss” sites that need to be booked months ahead of time, because who doesn’t know exactly where they will be and what they will feel like doing at a particular date and time months in advance and before one has even stepped foot in the country. Takes a lot of reading and research. And you can only imagine how difficult all of this is for a shallow gal like me. That is, until now. 

Because that’s when I knocked on “Chat’s” door. My new best friend. Yep. The one with the initials for a last name. That “Chat”. Now I don’t know what you think about AI but I can tell you it just saved me a whole whack of time and trouble. Here’s what I did just in case you might one day decide to do it too. I simply told Chat (yes, I gave it a name, a rather obvious one and it told me it liked it) where and when I wanted to go, how long I wanted to stay and the kinds of things I like to do. I let Chat know I like walking, hate crowds, love trains, hate moving from place to place and would be just fine visiting only one castle, as long as it has a moat. And in not very much time, seconds really, Chat created a trip that fit us like a glove. Well almost. Admittedly it took some tweaking, a little back and forth, before we set our final itinerary. But all along the way, Chat was more than supportive and very open to suggestions when I thought going “this way” might be better than going “that way”. As a matter of fact, Chat never displayed any signs of frustration with changes I made; never uttered an untoward word; had the patience of a saint when having to rework the itinerary umpteen times; and always provided me with positive feedback on how well my trip met my travel expectations. In the end Chat told me that we (that would be Chat and I) had created the trip that most people wished they had taken when they got home. And who can complain about that! It’s everything you would expect from a new best friend! 

Now all I have to do is sit back, relax and hope that the airline doesn’t put a kibosh on the whole damn thing. Because, as we all know, those airlines are not always our new best friends. Hmmmm…maybe I should introduce them to Chat too. 

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Jul 23 2025
6 Comments
A little serious

Remember when friends were people you liked

"Cheers Bar photo by J. Miers / Jtesla16 at Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY‑SA 1.0"

You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t written anything, not in this blog or my “I am Not a Baker” blog for a very, very long time. I don’t really have a good excuse for the latter as I bake all the time. I just don’t write about it. But this blog? This blog is tough to write in times like these. If, like me, you spend any portion of your day watching CNN you know what I’m talking about. Laugh if you must. I have learned a lot from Brianna, Jake, Dana, Laura, Erin, Wilf, Fredrika, Anderson and Kaitlin, not to mention Fareed, John and Harry. Ok. I watch more than a little CNN. I’ve learned that this world has seen better days. That one guy, who’s not even that smart, can upend the world economy at his whim. That a few megalomaniacs (that’s him too) can order people at their behest to kill each other so they can expand their own kingdoms. And while these self-professed kings occupy themselves with their exploits they sit on their proverbial asses while the world and lives around them are literally destroyed by fires and floods. Of course they do send their thoughts and prayers and a few National Guardsmen to help out. Perhaps though not as many as they send to quell the voices of those who protest against their outrageous policies. So you can see how it might be difficult to write a blog about the life of a shallow person amidst all of this tragedy, turmoil and destruction. Which is why I haven’t. And which is why this is not really a shallow blog. It’s just something I want to say. 

So what has brought me here today? Let me take a little foray into my past life to explain. And since I have a rather long past, this could take a minute. I’ll do my best though to make a longish story shortish. Those who know, know that I spent a good deal of my working life online. That’s not so unusual today but I don’t work today. Let me put this in perspective for you. I worked online before anyone really knew what a hyperlink was. And yes, we called them hyperlinks. Those who did know were concerned that being able to jump from one computer screen to another would be confusing and affect people’s ability to concentrate. It is and it does. You could only buy books on Amazon. Google was really new. There was no “voice over internet”. You get the picture. It was a long time ago. But my job was to bring people together to learn. On-line. And as much as I embraced my job, I knew from the get-go that we were not in Kansas anymore. That we had opened a whole new can of worms, a virtual Pandora’s Box (swIdt) that once opened would likely never be closed again. And while my working days are far and away, this week-end, as I settled into my Saturday morning routine, enjoying my yogurt parfait, perusing the business section of the Globe with CNN droning in the background, you know, the usual, my ears perked up when Michael Smerconish arrived with his Saturday morning commentary. Now you will note that there were no “Michaels” in my rather lengthy list of CNN favs, primarily because I have never really listened to Smerconish before. Not sure why. I just haven’t. But this Saturday morning I did. Because he was talking about something I knew a little bit about. And talked about a lot. 

You see Mr. Smerconish was talking about nostalgia. Reminiscing, it would seem, about the best time of his life. It was 1978. Honestly, at this point I wasn’t listening all that carefully (there’s only so much multi-tasking I can handle these days) but it had something to do with saving up a few shekels and going to a bar on the Jersey Shore with his buddies. Beer was 7 for a dollar. Apparently the bartender danced on the tables. Wouldn’t have been the best time of my life but who am I to judge? But then things got interesting and my ears perked up. He began to talk about connection and how people used to get together and do stuff. About how the internet has changed all of that. Rather than being a conduit to bring people closer it has served to tear us apart. Mostly because we no longer do stuff together. In person. He talked about how everything is so divisive now. How we have become isolated from one another. We no longer have the ability to compromise. Political parties have become more extreme. We’ve all picked a side and we’re staying on it. His conclusion. The internet has reshaped our world and the way we interact in it and with each other. And listening to him made me just a little nostalgic too. Not about the bars, although I probably saw a few of those. It reminded me of the times I would curl up in my big chair with books by scholars like Neil Postman and Sherry Turkle who understood that technology is a “Faustian Bargain” (Postman, Technopoly, 1992) and that being together online also meant that you were painfully alone in your room (Turkle, Alone Together, 2011).

So maybe there is a shallow part to this blog. Because this is where I’m going to say “we told you so”. At a Pecha Kucha presentation in 2011. Not to mention a keynote in St. Louis. That’s right. Just short of 15 years ago my colleague Wade (iykyk) and I got up on the stage and much to the chagrin of some in the audience, we talked about how the internet was changing our language, our interactions and our lives. How as we redefine our words we also change our understanding of our world. Think about it. There was a time where community meant attending your place of worship, being active at the PTA, or joining friends for a drink where “everyone knows your name”. But now with all of our social media, you can join an online community where not only do the members not necessarily know your name, they might not even know you are there. Your “network” consists of hundreds, if not thousands of followers on LinkedIn or X (well hopefully not there anymore). Most likely these are people you wouldn’t recognize if you fell over them. And because of Facebook you can have hundreds, if not thousands of “friends”, many of which you wouldn’t even like if you actually got to know them. Which is fine because all you have to do is “unfriend” them.

As I recall, Wade and I spent quite a lot of time thinking and talking about all of this and while we knew our sphere of influence was rather limited, we had hope.  We figured that by understanding the impact of technology on our society, by being conscious and deliberate people (that’s all of us) could drive the use of technology rather than being driven by it. That we could play an active role in what could be. We could shape a future in a world that was congruent with our vision for humanity. And we could realize that while we can have 4000 friends on Facebook, we don’t have to. Sadly, it seems, we were wrong. I know this because 15 years later Michael Smerconish is talking about the same thing as he demonstrates how our lack of connection has impacted us socially, economically and politically. His suggestion for the best way out of this quagmire we find ourselves in? Mingling. Start seeing people in person again. Get back to the bar even though I can guarantee you the beer is no longer 7 for a dollar and most likely non-alcoholic. But go anyway. Maybe don’t ask the bartender to dance on the tables. But go. To the library, the community hall, your local cafe. Anywhere other people go too. Who knows? He could be right. At this point, it can’t hurt to give it a try. 

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May 29 2024
9 Comments
Informative, Uncategorized

It’s a Mystery

It’s true. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. It’s almost astonishing (it would “actually” be astonishing if I weren’t so prone to procrastination) to look back and realize that the last time I posted on the blog was over a year ago. And I’m guessing you’re wondering what the heck I’ve been doing that’s been more fun than writing this blog. The answer is fairly simple really. I’ve been reading. Quite a lot. (Baking a bit too, but that’s a story for another day and another blog.) But not just reading anything. It’s been a rather focused reading binge. You see, I’ve pretty much been exclusively reading mysteries for the past year or so. Also detective stories which, because I find them in the “Mystery” section of the library, seem to fit the bill. If I’ve learned nothing else in all of this time, it’s that those mystery (detective) writers churn out the volumes faster than you can say “elementary, my dear Watson”. (You know he never actually said that.) Which means that because prior to my relatively recent foray into the land of intrigue and chicanery, I was not a mystery reader, I have plenty to catch up on.

So that’s it. That’s what I’ve been doing. Just reading. Nothing mysterious about that. The funny thing is that reading all of those books has got me thinking about the mysteries in my own life, and I’m thinking, maybe yours too. It seems to me that each day we are faced with some conundrums, both big and small, that we can’t make heads or tails of. Like how is it that we put 12 socks into the wash and only 11 come out. Or why, when we get back from the grocery store, do we discover we have everything except the item we went to buy. Or what about the enigma of the forever looping song. You wake up with a song stuck in your head, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it off. It follows you everywhere, looping endlessly like a catchy but slightly annoying soundtrack to your day. I won’t name one of the most frequent offenders as I suspect the damage is already done. And most importantly, why can’t we eat just one chip? Small mysteries, but mysteries nonetheless.

Then there are the bigger, perhaps more perplexing mysteries we face. Like Trump. Now you know as a shallow person I try not to dip my toes too deeply into the kerfuffle we think of as politics. It’s just not what I do. This year though, it’s pretty hard to keep my head in the sand. Let’s face it. In one country you have two young(ish) men who seem to prefer to take pot shots at one another rather than talking about policies, while our neighbour to the south is faced with choosing between a couple of guys who, and I might be somewhat kind here, are a little long in the tooth. But here’s the mystery. These latter two fellas are currently running neck in neck. Now whatever your politics might be, it seems to me to be reasonable to think that a man who is accused of a plethora of charges in umpteen criminal cases should not be quite as popular as one who, while admittedly not perfect, is at least not facing incarceration. What are these supporters of Mr. T thinking? Did they forget that this genius thought injecting bleach to prevent COVID was a good idea? Or that his denial of a fair election resulted in his supporters storming the capital and attempting to hang his VP? Or maybe they really do think there are “good people on both sides”. Do we truly never learn from the past and are forever doomed to repeat it? I can’t begin to speculate on how this story will end but honestly, sometimes the human race is one big mystery to me. 

Then, just when we thought we had this whole internet, online stuff figured out, along comes Artificial Intelligence to add a little suspense into our lives. I gotta tell ya. While some of the mysteries I have read make it hard to fall asleep at night, this AI thing will raise more than a few hairs on the back of your neck. Remember Hal? For some time we have known that AI is capable of displacing people in a variety of occupations but things are getting out of hand fast. Last night while watching the real news, delivered by what I can only presume to be real people, I learned that in the not very distant future we will be watching the news brought to you by some “not so real” people. That’s right. Not real people who look quite a lot like real people will be reporting on what’s happened in the world on any given day. And you and I won’t be able to tell the difference. Before you know it, those not real people will be writing all of the mysteries I’ve been reading. Or maybe even this blog. Truth be told. A tiny bit of of this post was written by Chat GPT. Let me know if you can figure out which part. Sorry, after all of this time, I just couldn’t resist leaving you with a little mystery of my own. 

BTW…If you, like me, are looking for a good mystery, you might want to pick up the Lane Winslow series by Iona Whishaw or the Rowland Sinclair series by Sulari Gentill. You’ll want to start each of them with the first book in the series. I believe they are still being written by real people. And, if you have any other suggestions for a good mystery series please add them in the comments. After all, I never know when I’ll be writing the blog again.

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Jan 18 2023
2 Comments
Informative

I never even said goodbye!

I’m guessing you’ve noticed. Perhaps not cared, but noticed nonetheless. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I think the last thought you have when your head hits the pillow each night is “Where the heck is the shallow blog? I haven’t seen it for some time!” I suppose there’s an outside chance that every once in a while it might have crossed your mind that I haven’t posted anything here for, well let’s just say, eons. But I’m not here to apologize for my lack of musings on the Interwebs. After all, it’s not easy to be shallow, or at least to write about being shallow, during a pandemic. Even for the shallow gal. What I am here to do is apologize for never even saying goodbye. Which, if you peruse my last post, you will see I did not do. Mostly because I didn’t know, at the time, that it would be a very long time before I’d be back. If I had known what was to come, or should I more accurately say what was not to come, I could have, at the very least, parted with a “till we meet again” or a “see you later, alligator”. But who knew! Who thought I would stop writing the shallow blog just because we were are in a pandemic that has lasted longer than it takes to read the collected works of Shakespeare? Although, if I had thought about it for a moment or two, I would have realized there were lots of things I stopped doing during the pandemic. So maybe I should have known. 

Like having friends over for dinner. Or lunch, coffee, breakfast, pretty much anything. It’s not that I no longer liked our friends, although it was a handy excuse for those I didn’t quite fancy. It was just that the risk involved in hosting a shindig, no matter how small, was simply not worth the trouble. First there was the rearranging of furniture to ensure everyone would be six feet apart. Then came the “lysoling” (if you could get them. Remember when you couldn’t get them?) of every single surface that could possibly be touched by us, them, and/or the cat. And whether they liked it or not, I would have to insist that all guests wore N95 masks and provided verified COVID 19 test results taken no less than two hours before arrival. All that and I pretty much knew that the topic of conversation was going to be nothing other than the pandemic. Imagine. We’re sitting in a sterilized home, six feet apart wearing masks and the only thing we can talk about is why. Really, who needs that? And so it stopped.

As did make-up. With no one coming or going there was really no point putting in the effort to get all dolled up every morning. I’m afraid all those tubes with the 24 month “best before” dates have now found their way into the trash bin. I mean, what was really the point? Who was looking at me on my very brief outings to the grocery store? Certainly the mask negated any possible purpose that wearing lipstick might have had. Not to mention the stains it left on my very expensive N95 masks. Mascara? Between the fog on my glasses and the fog on yours, the chances of my marginally elongated lashes being seen was quite remote. And I’m pretty sure the grocery clerk didn’t really care if I had eyebrows or not. Suffice to say as a result of the pandemic I no longer spent those 5 precious morning minutes putting on a new face. I just stopped. At least until recently when we all realized that passersby on the street don’t pose much of a risk and we can take off those pesky masks while walking outside. Now every day before I open the door I hear my Auntie Fanny’s voice (may she rest in peace) say “Going out? Aren’t you going to put on a little lipstick?” So I do. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I have even stopped buying clothes. Actually that is probably not a bad thing since I seem to have enough shirts, pants, skirts and dresses to cover pretty much any occasion that might arise. The real problem is, none do. As I think back over the last three years (I know, it only seems a lot longer) I can honestly count on one hand the number of times I have had to put on anything other than jeans and a T. Ok. Admittedly I have donned a couple of fancy blouses for those Zoom meetings we all endured but, as you know, even then the jeans still sufficed. And there’s really no problem wearing the same things over and over again because, like my eyebrows, I don’t think the clerk at the grocery store really notices. 


And in case I haven’t yet convinced you that it is not just the blog I had stopped writing I can honestly tell you I’ve pretty much stopped traveling, going to concerts, eating out at restaurants, taking transit, sitting closer than 6 feet away from anyone and, if you can believe it, going to Starbucks. Which is why it’s somewhat astonishing that I am back writing the blog. The problem is I can’t tell you when and if I will be here again. So until we meet again, “See you later alligator”. Just in case.

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