Category Archives: Informative

Tag, You’re it! And a bit of a rant.

Red and blue police lightsEvery once in awhile I recall the days of my youth and all of the many hours spent in laughter and play with the neighborhood kids. My admittedly selective memory paints an idyllic picture of boys and girls riding bikes down the steep hill that undulated in front of our houses, sharing penny candies bought with our nickels and dimes at the corner store and running wildly from one backyard to the next playing games like “Red Rover”, “Hide and Seek” and “Tag, You’re it”! It was a time of fun and frivolity with nary a thought to the lessons being learned and how they would profoundly impact our lives as we grew into the mature adults we are today. But impact they did and as I reflect on those times I have have come to the realization that it is as a result of those very games that I can proudly declare myself to be an upstanding and law abiding citizen.

For those of you who know me, and that would be most but not all, thank goodness, of the people who read this blog, it will come as no surprise that I was a rather small child. For some games that proved to be an asset. As you may well imagine, hide and seek was one of my fortes as I could fit into places that were otherwise unavailable to my larger playmates. But at other times my diminutive stature rendered me at a distinct disadvantage and in games like “Tag” I found myself being “caught” over and over again. In fact, I was caught so often that I sometimes defaulted to being “it” for an entire evening. And so it was from this rather daunting experience I came to internalize two “things I know for sure”. The first is that I don’t like getting caught and the second is that, however hard I try to avoid it, I almost always will be the one that does.

Now I know you are shaking your head thinking surely having short legs is not the best rationale for becoming a law abiding citizen. And isn’t it a little strange for her to think that a silly little game is the sole reason she has lived a life free of crime? Of course I know that there are moral and ethical reasons that should inspire one to adhere to the letter of the law. But as a shallow person I’m ok with letting fear alone be the motivation behind my good behaviour and, given my life experience, feel justified in doing so. If you are still harbouring some disbelief, let me tell you a story that will erase the doubts that are swirling through your minds.

As you may recall, I have a strong preference for small foreign cars so not surprisingly, that’s what I drive. It’s a peppy little thing that in its country of origin can grace the blacktop at 160 kph without a shudder and as a result, I am always careful to keep an eye on the needle so as not to exceed any posted limits. Which is why as I was driving through Idaho, for the sole purpose of returning to my country of birth, I was somewhat astonished to look in my rearview mirror and see the sparkle of red and blue lights rather close on my behind. As I pulled over to the side (at this point I had the border in my sights but aware of the extradition laws between our friendly countries made a hasty decision not to make a run for it), and watched the State Trooper amble towards my car, I continued to wonder what on earth I had done to warrant this rather unwelcome intrusion to my journey. Here’s how it went:

Trooper: Ma’am, did you notice the 45 mph sign back there?
Me: Yes sir, I did. But you know my speedometer is in kilometres and it’s a little hard to get the conversion just right.

He looks through the window at my dash and at that moment I think I have this one licked. Until he goes on to say:

Trooper: And Ma’am, did you happen to notice the 25 mph sign?
Me: Suddenly deflated I reply, Um no sir, I did not.
Trooper: Ma’am, you know I can cite you for excessive speed. Much too long a pause. But I’ll let you off this time with just a regular speeding ticket.

Are you kidding me! I was caught for excessive speed in a 25 mph zone! Me, who let’s the guy in the Chevy Cobalt whiz by on the highway knowing all the while that with a tap of my toe I could leave him in my dust. Me, who slows down at a stale green light while everyone else accelerates through the yellow and red, even though I know, in a pinch, I can stop on a dime. Me, who wouldn’t dream of answering a call while at the wheel yet sits patiently behind the guy at the flashing green who neglects to notice the light has changed because he is so engrossed in his seemingly “more important than actually driving” conversation? Me who has made obeying the law somewhat of a compulsion if for no other reason than not to do so will ultimately result in my capture. I think it is safe to say that I have made my case.

And so it is that I have come to accept my destiny as the “person who will always get caught” and for the most part, I’m ok with it. But once, honestly just once, I would like to have the chance to be the one that calls out “Tag, you’re it!”

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What chapter is this anyway?

BookshelfI like books. They have a multitude of purposes not the least of which is making people look good. How many times have you gone to someone’s house and, while they left the room to prepare a little something to “tide you over” as my Mother would say, taken a good look at the books they have so carefully and strategically placed on their shelves? The thing is, bookshelves are a lot like Facebook profiles, constructed to reflect the image that their owner wants to project. And it’s really not that hard. Let’s say you want people to think of you as “retro hip”. Add a few Hunter S. Thompson’s to your collection of Kerouac novels, pepper with a little Tom Wolfe and you’ve got yourself a persona. Perhaps radical politics is more up your alley. Place the three volumes of Marx’s “Capital” front and centre, surround with some Saul Alinsky, Noam Chomsky and “Plato’s Republic” just to show depth, and you’re set. Fancy economics as your claim to fame? To do this right you’re going to need some balance. Milton Friedman, Naomi Klein, Adam Smith and Marx (again) should do the trick. Throw in a copy of “Freakonomics” just to let people know you have a sense of humour. I could go on but honestly, this is not rocket science although if that’s your goal try some Sagan, Hawkings and Michio Kaku who, although born and bred in the USA will at least appear to add an international flair.

Books can also make you look smart. Unlike those electronic reading machines, when you carry a book people can actually see what you are reading. Or at least what you appear to be reading because we all know that you don’t actually have to read the book to make people think you are smart. I mean when was the last time you actually walked up to someone to quiz them about the book they were holding? It’s just not going to happen. Of course if it does happen there are some stock responses you can use to maintain the illusion. If it’s non-fiction you’re holding go with “she presents a new and interesting theoretical perspective that really ought to be considered given how tired the previous iterations and approaches to [insert topic here] have become”. That should stop any further inquiry. When it’s a novel you’ve got I suggest “I’m afraid the character development is weaker than in his past work but I’m plowing my way through hopeful that some of his literary genius will become evident in the later chapters” which will not only demonstrate your ability to critically analyze the current work but will also let people know that this is not the first and only book you have read. So be as esoteric in the selection you carry as you want and make sure to keep the cover facing out.

But what I like most about books is that they have a beginning, a middle and an end. As you read them you know exactly where you have been, and where you are going. It also means that you have a pretty good idea of when you are going to be done. Which is why I look back somewhat wistfully on the advice my son (I have two of those) gave me when I first started to write this blog. He said (and I quote) “Mom, you should write a book about being shallow, not a blog.” Because unlike a book, a blog has no natural end. As I look back at my 27 posts I find myself asking “what chapter is this anyway?”. For all I know this thing could go on forever, an especially daunting conclusion to arrive at when your Grandmother lived to be over 100 and your Mother and her sisters are respectively 97, 94, 91 and 80 years of age. The thought is so overwhelming that this week I have sought refuge in my “one week at a time” mantra.

Looks like it worked. That’s another week in the bag.

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What’s in my bucket?

Red bucketThese days there’s a lot of talk about bucket lists. It seems to me that the concept became particularly popular after a movie about a couple of old guys who wanted to do a bunch of things that no one else wanted them to do. They wrote them down, hence the formation of the “list” and checked them off when they were done. More recently, on one of my frequent trips to Costco, I noticed that there are books being written about all of the things we need to do and places we need to visit before we die. I suppose they are relatively harmless, although I do wonder if identifying 10,000 “can’t miss” wonders of this earth might be a little excessive and a somewhat ambitious accomplishment to expect of anyone during one’s relatively short lifetime.

Even so, if that’s where it all ended I probably wouldn’t be writing about this today. But as I started to research the “bucket list” concept I was rather shocked to discover that the internet is chock full of instructive sites designed to not only help you build, but also track the completion of your list. As a matter of fact, and this kind of surprised me, there are sites where people share their lists to help others who I guess, can’t come up with stuff to do on their own. Seems to me that piggybacking on someone else’s list is a little suspect but, and I’ve said it before, who am I to judge? To top things off, tonight as I am writing this post, I am keeping one eye on a movie where a lovely, but of course dying woman, is managing to finish off her list in the face of a rather imposing deadline. Given the overwhelming evidence I am convinced that this whole thing has become rather ubiquitous and even so, I can’t seem to recall ever having put together such a list for myself.

I do have to admit however, that I was rather intrigued by the scope of “things to do” that my internet friends (I feel as though I can call them that since they are sharing some of their innermost, lifelong desires with me) want to achieve before they die. Certainly travel takes center stage on lots of these lists informed, I am sure, by those “10,000 places” books. Stonehenge, the Eiffel Tower and Niagara Falls are favourite, ultimate destinations for many. There are some rather mundane items, such as “learning to knit “or “eating a Pop Tart” and other more lofty goals like “donating to a women’s shelter” or “helping a homeless person”. Some people want to focus on improving themselves by “becoming more positive”, “running a marathon” or “quitting the insidious tobacco weed”, all commendable and likely realistic goals if you ask me. Unlike the person who wants to “meet a unicorn”, which I believe is much less likely to happen and can only end in disappointment and a sense of failure, leaving me to wonder why anyone would intentionally bring this upon themselves.

There are however, items on these bucket lists that I find a little confusing. Like the woman who wants to be “homeless for a week”. Seems to me that you are either homeless or you’re not. And if you’re not, well why would you want to be? My guess is that a real homeless person would never add this to their list. And what about the woman who wants to “jump off a moving train”? It wasn’t at the bottom of her list but I’m thinking that it should be because there’s a pretty good chance that it’s the last thing she is ever going to do.

After reading through all of the lists I’m beginning to think that I might be one of a very few who doesn’t have a bucket list, which probably isn’t so surprising since it’s just not the kind of thing that shallow people tend to do. Let’s face it, I have enough trouble writing this blog once a week so I’m certainly not about to commit to a whole whack of other things that I have to do. Nonetheless, I’ve thought about it and have come to the conclusion that there is one item I want to put in my bucket. And here it is. I want to win the lottery. This is not some passing fancy, a frivolous , “oh wouldn’t that be nice” wish. No, I really want to win the lottery. I know you think that the ability to accomplish this goal is out of my hands but perhaps no more so than the person who wants to “witness a miracle” which, btw, was also on the list of the dying woman in the movie, making it, in my eyes anyway, a somewhat legitimate bucket list item. Maybe it would help if I just rephrase and say I want to “witness the miracle of winning the lottery”. I figure once that happens it will be a lot easier for me to make the rest of my list.

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Why I like gift cards

I love gift cards. Oh, it’s not the “getting” of gift cards that I love. For shallow people the obligation that goes along with the receiving of gifts warrants a post all to its own. No, what I love is that gift cards exist for the giving. Let’s face it, the fact that I have mastered the art of feigning interest probably means that I don’t know as much about those around me as one might hope. Honestly, do people really expect me to discern their favourite colour by simply looking at what they wear everyday? Or is it through some kind of osmosis that I am supposed to know whether it’s the “cinnamon appleberry” or “apple sunset” Yankee Candle scent they prefer? Perhaps there is a way to determine if someone likes light better than dark chocolate, but I sure don’t know how that’s done. And when it comes to choosing between red or white, well after the first glass it’s all the same anyway, isn’t it?. And so it is that the practice of appropriate gift giving has alluded me. But don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to give gifts, it’s just that finding “things other people might like” can be so overwhelming at times.

I mean, how often do people really like the gifts that they get? Sure, they smile politely and thank you profusely for your thoughtfulness all the while trying to make themselves believe that it truly is the “thought that counts” and that maybe someone, somewhere would appreciate having “whatever this is” on their mantelpiece. As a matter of fact, this is such a commonplace occurrence that we now talk about “regifting” as if it were part of our everyday routine…like eating breakfast, or going to work, or drying cranberries. Well that last one might not be in everyone’s routine but it’s in mine as a result of a fruit dehydrator someone gave me for my last birthday. Of course there is always the “cash” option, which, while ultimately may be the recipient’s preferred choice, seems a tad crass even if you do remember to pick up one of those newly minted hundreds while making your weekly bank deposit. Because the thing about cash is, not only does it let someone know that you don’t have any idea about what to get them, it also means you don’t really care about what they get themselves. For all you know they are using the money to feed some sort of nasty addiction they have successfully hidden from you and honestly, how does that make you feel?

Trust me, the advent of gift cards is truly a godsend not only for those of us in the shallow sphere but also for those who are not yet there. Think about it. You can gets cards for almost everything these days and it’s not that hard to figure out where someone shops or eats. You can give someone a gift and not have them know how cheap you are until they get to the store and by that time they will have forgotten who gave them the card. But most importantly, and I’m pretty sure this was the impetus behind the invention in the first place, you can buy someone a coffee, or even dinner, without actually having to be there to enjoy it with them. So who ever said I was nice?

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Folk Fest Revisited (and a little “something for you” to boot)

I know, I know! There’s been a lull. You’re wondering where I have been. Last you knew I was making my yearly pilgrimage to the Folk Fest and next thing you know I have all but disappeared. Perhaps you’re thinking that after all those days and nights sitting on the hill under the stars, dancing and singing along to sometimes meaningful songs, eating primarily healthy food for four days and communing with my new “not on Facebook” friends, that I had abandoned my shallow ways.  Maybe while sitting in the shadow of downtown Edmonton, which from this very unique vantage point has buildings that appear almost doll-like, carefully placed one by one in an effort to create the quintessential city sky-scape, I might have turned over a new leaf and started to think about writing something a tad more profound. Nope, nothing of the sort. I will admit to feeling a small lump in my throat listening to Nathan Roger’s rendition of his Father’s immortal “North West Passage” but that’s the only concession I’m prepared to make. Last time I looked, I’m as shallow as ever. So why the delay?

To tell the truth the Folk Fest wears me out. Four days of rising early to get a prime tarp placement, standing in line for just about everything and trekking around a site that in colder climes is a ski hill, makes me tired. So as much as I wanted to get this “wrap-up” wrapped up, I just couldn’t do it primarily because each time I sat down in my favourite chair to write, I fell asleep. Oh yeah, and I had to get the pictures developed. (Just kidding…I know you don’t have to develop digital pictures). You see, while at the “fest” it occurred to me that there may have been some doubt as to the accuracy of my previously posted “Shallow Guide”, some question as to my use of literary exaggeration to make a point, and that it would serve me well to obtain enough evidence to convince my readers that there are no fictional accounts on this blog. Unfortunately I didn’t think about this until the third day so I did the best I could, with a little help from my friends (thanks to Marsha, Wade, Nicole and “the Kev”), in the limited time that remained. And rather than bore you with thousands of words, I thought for this post I would let the pics do most of the talking.

And then it came to me. Why not take this opportunity to engage my readership (that’s you) in a little interactivity, as we like to call it in the education biz. So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to fill you in on the first few pictures and then you can do the rest of the work. In the final collage of pictures you will find evidence of all that I spoke about in the “guides” and all you have to do is figure out what’s what.

I’m not going to call this a “contest” lest there be some government regulation legally preventing me from doing so but there are prizes to be had, probably from the dollar store and likely made in China. In fact, there are two prizes; one for the first, most accurate answers and one for the funniest answers, the latter being subject to my own judgmental self. You can post your answers in the comments or send them to me privately, if you know my email address. Whatever you decide, at some point, if I don’t already know who you are, you’re going to have to come clean so I can send you your prize. If you are not already a follower on this blog, seems to me this might be a good time to start.

So let’s get to it.

As I suspected, the guys and gals were sporting their “Toms“.

Lots of "Toms"

And their funky Tees:

Funky Tees

They were hoppin’, boppin’ , glowin’  and holding candles to the wind:

Folk Fest crowd scenes

And fortunately for all of us, these guys weren’t sitting in this chair:

 Here’s where the fun begins! Now it’s your turn. Just match the pic to that valuable information contained in the “Guides” (one, two and three) and you’re in.

Various Folk Fest pics

How about we make Friday, August 24th the deadline just so this thing doesn’t go on for too long.  That will also give me time to figure out what to write about next.  Did I mention there is no fiction on this blog?

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