Tag Archives: shallow

Jun 10 2013
11 Comments
A little serious, Informative

A Little Help From My Friends

snow_squirrel from Stratsan http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1377032I have a problem. Before I get going, and just so you know, I realize this is probably not the biggest problem that anyone has ever faced. As a matter of fact, I happen to know that many of you have faced way bigger problems than this one. It’s not life or death or anything even close to that. But this problem is mine and I need some help with it. Now it’s not often that I ask my readers, or anyone else, for help. Ok, so come to think about it, I suppose I did ask for some help the other week when I was doing that big race. Of course that help wasn’t exactly for me, so it’s not really in the same category. And I admit that I haven’t actually done any cooking for about twenty years and I’ve been eating pretty well, which means I’m getting quite a bit of help with that. Though other people in the house like to eat too so that help isn’t only for me either, and anyway, we have long since stopped believing that a woman’s place is in the kitchen, haven’t we? Which brings me to my problem and the help that I need.

Let me start by explaining that this problem of mine is not a new one since it started about twenty-five years ago. That’s when I moved into my house in one of those lovely, desirable and sought after older neighborhoods where you pay a rather hefty premium for the privilege of being able to “make it your own” which translates into spending gobs of money to ensure that you can run the microwave while drying your hair, should the need arise. Most of the time when you get one of these houses you sacrifice features we have now come to expect from our dwellings like granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, ensuites, walk-in closets and, perhaps most importantly, attached garages. But to make up for all of those losses you do get big backyards with lots of trees. And therein lies the problem because when you have garages at the back of your house surrounded by towering pine trees laden with multitudes of pine cones, (might I add, as they should be) it is only natural to get something else. And that “something” is squirrels. Lots and lots of squirrels. And not just any squirrels but whole families of squirrels. More squirrels than you can shake a stick at.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against squirrels. Especially ones that mind their own business and do what squirrels are supposed to do which is mostly run around looking kind of cute, maybe burying a peanut or two in the garden and, once in awhile, unfortunately for the squirrels, find themselves losers in what they thought would be a fun game of chicken with the neighbor’s Volvo. Oh yes, and when they make their nests in those previously spoken about trees which it seems to me nature put there for just that purpose. But when squirrels decide that, like me, they prefer to live inside rather than out, and subsequently make their home in a garage, most notably my garage, using the insulation from the hood of my car to pad that little nest of theirs (and you know how I feel about my car), well that’s when I have a problem. Hence the need for your help.

You see, for the past few years I have been doing my best to try to encourage these little critters to do what nature intended them to do and that’s live anywhere but in my garage. Don’t get me wrong. Plenty of people have given me plenty of suggestions and I have tried them all. I’ve bought the thing you plug in that makes a high pitched sound that apparently all animals disdain, but I can hear it and I still go into my garage, and so do they. I’ve filled up cans with ammonia and placed them strategically around the garage only to discover that my friends (and I use that term lightly) have spent the evening playing a rousing game of “kick the can” with little regard to the contents. And I have liberally spread enough mothballs throughout the garage to ensure the safety of my entire cardi collection for the remainder of my days, and yet, there they are, each and every morning, looking down at me as I make my way to the office. Sometimes I think they even give me a little goodbye wave knowing they will have my garage to themselves for the rest of the day.

At my wits end I have now, at the suggestion of one of my co-workers lest you’re thinking about pointing fingers, acquired a trap. Don’t get too excited. It’s a live trap designed simply to encourage the rodent (well that’s what they are) to enter, get caught, and be relocated to a more suitable, parklike environ, where they can live out the remainder of their lives frollicking among the leaves and trees and perhaps the odd coyote. But I’ve run into a glitch. There are people in my house who are not quite as shallow as I. They think that this little plan of mine is akin to house wrecking and that breaking up the family is simply unthinkable. How, they ask, can I tear these children from the arms of their Mother? How, they ask, can I be so shallow?

So here we are at a standstill and this is where I need your help. Surely someone out there has a surefire way, a tried and true method to rid my garage of these guests who have long ago outlived their welcome. That’s it in a nutshell. We need your help before we all go squirrely.

Did I just say that out loud?

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Jun 04 2013
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Informative, Instructive

We Did It!

cricketI know you have been waiting with bated breath to find out what happened when I finally got out of my chair last week to partake in the “City Chase”, a local event best compared to the “Amazing Race”. And even if you haven’t been waiting, or worse still, completely forgot that it was even part of my recent life, I’m going to tell you about it. Because that’s what shallow people do. They focus primarily on themselves. As a matter of fact, the other day someone asked me why it was that all of my blog posts were about me which made me think that in some small way I had failed because I would have thought that the answer was pretty obvious. And while it did give me a moment’s pause to question whether I was doing the best job I could at helping people understand the life of a shallow person it was, at the same time, somewhat reassuring to know that at least I was doing something right on this blog. And that’s why, whether you have asked for it or not (and I can’t honestly say that anyone has), here’s my recollection of the race. And I say “recollection” because more than a week has passed since the big day and things get a little fuzzy over that period of time. But for what it’s worth, this is my story.

It was much too early on a dark and gloomy morning when the alarm sounded to let me know it was time to rise up to the challenge I had committed to in an apparently weak moment a few weeks prior to this day. As I wiped the remnants of a broken night’s sleep from my eyes my first thoughts were to pull the covers back over my head and wish the day away. But I had made a promise, one that I could not break given the heartwarming support that had so recently been pledged on my behalf. And so it was that I arose with an overwhelming sense of excitement, perhaps wonder, and a kind of resolve I hadn’t felt for some time, one that I knew would help me find the strength I needed to make it through to the end. There had been much anticipation leading up to this moment and over the past weeks I had undertaken a rather strenuous training regimen encompassing both physical and mental preparation. I was ready and yet, for just a moment, there was a certain hesitation, a sense of impending doom, a fear perhaps, of the adventure on which I was about to embark. But as I pulled the race shirt I had so carefully prepared the evening before over my head, a lightness fell over me such that I had never felt before.

Yeah right! It wasn’t like that at all but it sure was fun making you think so. The truth is our little team of two, “Fast in the Past” was just that. Over 6 hours we walked 10 miles in the wind and rain, made our way through obstacle courses, searched for obscure artifacts, kissed a stranger, beached a canoe, made the rather easy decision to not eat a cricket (live, no less) and with mere seconds left, managed to get across the finish line. Which was just about the last move I was able to make for the remainder of the week-end.

Will we do it again next year? I’ll let you know once I figure out how to get myself back out of my chair.

Thanks again to all who contributed to “Right to Play” on our behalf.

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May 22 2013
2 Comments
Informative

I Admit It!

magnifying_glassI am almost absolutely certain that there are more people reading this blog than reflected in my WordPress stats. I say this because there are times when my weekly numbers don’t even account for the relatives I am foisting my words upon. Nor for the numerous business cards (or perhaps more accurately stated “blog cards”) I have given out to almost everyone I have come into contact with over the past year. Or even the close friends I have cultivated on my Facebook page for the sole purpose of augmenting my readership. All told, if I believed the stats I would have to conclude that there are many people who should be, but are not, reading the blog. Which leads me to what appears to be the only other logical conclusion, that my most loyal followers are receiving the blog in their emails and simply reading it there, and that’s fine with me. Because even though the numbers don’t always add up, there’s enough other information there to allow me to speculate about who stops by, how they get there and what they might be looking for, which is no more a waste of my time than what I would normally do while sitting in my chair.

As we know we live in an increasingly global world and since my mission is to help all people, regardless of race, religion, colour, ethnicity etc. to become one with their shallow self, there is nothing that makes me happier than discovering that people from the four corners of the globe (are there corners on a globe?) are reading the blog. I’m sure it won’t surprise you that, outside of Canada, most of my visitors come from the United States of America which I think makes sense since for the most part we speak the same language, in more ways than one. But part of the fun is that I never know who’s going to stop by. There have been visitors from as far away as Iran and Iraq who, I’m thinking, may not only struggle with the words but also the sentiments expressed heretofore. And if they do understand, I often wonder whether they spend time exploring the archives or simply cut their losses by navigating away as quickly as they can. Just today someone from Guernsey came by and, even though it’s a country that’s so small it doesn’t show up on the handy world map that WordPress provides, I’m glad to have been able to share my thoughts with him or her in whatever part of the world they might be. But not only do I know where my visitors are coming from, I also have an inkling of how and why they arrived as WordPress shares the search terms that brought them to me. And that’s where things get really interesting.

I’ve learned that many of the people who come upon my blog by chance have actually been searching Google for an image that I suppose they want to put on their own blog. Some have stopped by for a pic of the world while others, who have perhaps shared with me the misfortune of moving a little too quickly on the blacktop, are looking for flashing police lights to display. I have both of those and I’m guessing that I searched Google to get them too. I’ve got to say though that I’m a little baffled by the fact that the search term that most frequently brings otherwise unsuspecting people to the blog is “conversations with my hairdresser” which raises a number of questions in my mind. I mean do people really plan and prepare ahead of time what they are going to say while their hair is being shampooed? Has the art of conversation been so lost that we need guidance on how to speak more than 140 characters at a time? Or is there just so little happening in their lives that they have to look to others for inspiration? Come on people! We’re talking about an hour of chit chat, most of which won’t even be heard over the drone of the blow dryer. And while I am more than happy for the increased traffic and would never turn anyone away, surely we can do that much without Google.

However, perhaps the most significant information I have recently received on my WordPress stats page was the fact that someone found their way to my space using the search term “Doesn’t anyone admit that this is a shallow world?”  I admit it!! And that’s what they discovered when Google brought them to my  “It’s a Shallow World After All”  post. To be honest, it kind of gave me goose bumps because as you know, I want to help in whatever small way that I can. After all, shallow people like to give back too.

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May 14 2013
2 Comments
Informative

What’s My Favourite Colour?

colour_paletteI don’t really like to rant about stuff because, one thing I know for sure is that a lot of people have a lot more to rant about than I do. But there’s a time and place for everything and when I tell you what happened to me this weekend I’m pretty sure you’ll cut me some slack and agree that even for a shallow person like me, this is the time. However, before I continue, perhaps it would be best for me to set the stage.

Late last week the engine light on my car came on. It’s a solid, not a flashing light, so it’s entirely possible that this situation will turn out to be “no big deal”. The thing is, over the years my car and I have developed a symbiotic relationship of sorts. I take care of her and she takes care of me. So when a light like that comes on, it hurts not only because we have become so close but because you gotta know that an eleven year old car from the old country has the potential to cost a boatload of cash to fix. Which is why I started thinking about the possibilities and next thing I know I found myself standing in the middle of my local Dodge dealer’s lot.

Now I know you’re thinking “but she said she likes small, foreign cars” and there’s no truer statement than that. Which means that at this point, and rightfully so, you may be wondering why I was meandering my way through the rows and rows of “Avengers” and “Challengers” cars, I might add, whose names belie their character. Well, as difficult as it is to believe, this particular lot is also home to the auto of my most recent dreams, (don’t get too excited, these “cars I can’t live without” dreams come and go like the goldfish I had when I was a kid) the Fiat 500. And there’s nothing smaller or more foreign than that. So it was with some anticipation and more than a modicum of excitement that I approached the nearest salesperson to see about taking one of these cute little puppies for a spin.

And now I’m afraid, I have a confession to make. As much as I openly celebrate my shallow way of life, the one thing I am not, nor ever will be shallow about, is cars. Perhaps it’s as a result of spending my formative years living with a couple of older brothers who routinely parked something cute and sassy in the driveway. Or perhaps it’s the fact that one of the two came by his nickname “Crash” quite honestly. No matter, whatever the reason I don’t take my cars lightly and I don’t expect others, especially those tasked with the job of hawking them, to do so either. So you can only imagine my disdain when the first question that emerged from my salesperson of choice’s mouth was “what’s your favourite colour?” Really! Did you really just ask me that? About a car? I mean if we were talking about a jacket, or paint or even my preference in cats, which by the way is black, orange and white, I’d understand. But cars? Not a chance.

Needless to say there was nothing left to do but leave. Oddly enough this evening I read about a new Fiat 500L due to come out this summer and it looks pretty cool. I can’t wait to take it out for a drive, and hopefully when I get to the dealer, they’ll have something in a pearl white for me to try.

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May 05 2013
2 Comments
Informative, Instructive

Google This!

phoneLast week I was in my local big box bookstore which of late, to be honest, seems to have morphed into a purveyor of fashion and home decor and, now that I think about it, makes what I learned at the conference about matching books to my paint colour evermore useful. But already, I digress. As I was walking past one of those tables laden with “books you might like by subject” I was struck by the bright red lettering of one titled “The Day My Brain Exploded”. Beside the title was a cartoon-like picture of a bomb primed to detonate. My first thought was “What’s to write about? I feel like that almost everyday!” Of course, my curiosity got the best of me and so it was that I learned this particular title was more literal than figurative as the author recounts his life story of survival after a cerebral hemorrhage with, as the jacket tells me, humour. I guess that was a good enough reason for the publisher to have included the little “bomb” thing on the cover. Having dealt with the requisite guilt of making light, if only in my own mind, of this literary work I had to admit that, as my week progressed, the title stuck with me. In fact, as I continued to mull it over I realized that it provides a remarkably accurate description of how I feel a good deal of the time.

This feeling of mine became particularly intense during a recent 2 hour workshop I attended that promised to help me learn everything I need to know about Google Docs and in so doing, inevitably make my life immeasurably more productive, if not better. And this, I am led to believe, will be simple to accomplish as all I have to do is learn how to use Google Docs the “right way”. Now if you have learned nothing else from this blog you surely know that, as a shallow person I like things to be simple. I mean if I had to boil it down, along with being irreverent (see paragraph above) the one most important piece of advice I can give to those who aspire to this way of life is to keep things simple. And by simple I mean, not complicated. (Please note: I throw in these little tidbits of advice to meet one of the mandates of this blog which is to help others help themselves become more shallow). So I had high hopes as I walked into the workshop and my friend the trainer, who I must admit is perhaps just a tad overly enthusiastic about the possibilities of this suite of online tools, began sharing with us his extensive knowledge of all things Google.

Now I’m no slouch when it comes to technology as the use of it contributes substantially to my standard of living. And I’m open and willing to learn new things. Not only that, but I figure I’m kind of a Google Docs expert since I use it to write this blog. You see it allows me to access my document from anywhere which is important because I never know where I’ll be when a shallow thought strikes me. So when I sat down in my chair I was optimistic that I would be leaving with new ideas on how to simplify the work that I do, and by so doing, my life. And for the first few minutes he had me hooked as he explained how I would no longer need to share a document by attaching it to an email message and sending it to the many people who need to see it. Sounds good to me so far. I can use Google Docs to share stuff. Ok. Of course, in order to really make this work he suggested that I set up a Google Group and a Google Site so that I can put my Google Doc in the Google Site and then proceed to share it with my Google Group. He warns however, that I could run into trouble finding the Google Doc that I want to share with my Google Group so, to avoid this inconvenience, I should create a set of naming conventions to share with the members of my Google Group in order to ensure that I can find said document by searching, using boolean logic, through the potentially thousands of Google Docs I will accumulate in my Google Drive.

That’s when it happened. My brain exploded. At which time I turned to my neighbour and asked “what the heck is he talking about?” using not exactly those words. Because at this point it seemed to me that it was all pretty complicated and the better option would have been that attachment to the email we talked about at the start. Now don’t get me wrong. This revelation had nothing to do with the trainer who was very skilled in his craft and I am sure that the others in the room benefitted greatly from his knowledge. But I’m a shallow person who likes things to be simple and this simply was not.

Having thought about it for a day or two I’ve made a decision. From now on, if you want to share something with me, just give me a call…on my landline. And if you don’t know my number, you can probably google it.

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