Making news this week is the story of a couple who had happily been married for 72 years. They were in a serious car accident and put in a room together at the hospital side by side so they could hold hands. And that's how they passed within an hour of each other - holding hands right to the end. Pretty amazing huh?
It reminded me of my very first radio job in 1992. I had moved way north to Peace River with merely a couple of suitcases and my cats. I didn't even have a car. I was living in a basement suite in the house of an elderly couple - Tim and Harriot. They had met a few years before at a seniors centre after both had been widowed. They found love again and at the age of 84 and 82, got married again.
They were the sweetest couple. Harriot clearly wore the pants, and Tim admired her to death. They treated me like one of their grandchildren. Often times I would come home at around midnight from finishing my shift at work, to find baking placed on the floor in front of my door, or a meal of some sort. There was even a point that I was trying to purchase my first car, but needed a co-signer otherwise couldn't proceed. Tim had caught wind of my banking struggles and took me down to the bank the next day to co-sign for me, no questions asked - he just offered. He barely knew me, but co-signed a car loan for me.
After 10 months of living in Peace River, I got a job in Lethbridge. The day I loaded up my new car to hit the road, Harriot had to come outside and take a picture. She always made duplicates so she could be sure to give me one too.
About 6 months into living in Lethbridge, I got a letter from Tim. Inside, Harriot's obituary - she had passed. I cried alot for missing Harriot, but I cried alot thinking of poor Tim who would be heartbroken without her. I think I had heard at one point not too long after that that he wasn't doing very well either. I didn't get anymore letters from Tim and I suspect he may have passed that year as well.
To this day I still have the letter with her obituary that he sent me. And hearing the story this week of these two long-time lovebirds passing away holding hands made me think of them again today. As sad as these stories are, here's hoping we all have that kind of love someday!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Elvis at a Strip Club
I'm not entirely sure why I was thinking about this today, but it made me laugh out loud, so I thought I'd share.
Back in about 2003 I was on a Halloween pub crawl with the gang from MY 96/CHAT. Some of you reading this might have been there too. My costume was this plastic Elvis half face mask that had his hair and trademark sunglasses. Top that off with a beautiful powder blue pair of pants and a 70's big collared shirt and I had the King down to a tee, but with boobs.
We were at this little lounge called Cougars, which was upstairs from a strip club in the basement of the building. For whatever reason, a group of us decided to give the strip club a whirl for shits and giggles. As a woman, I can't say I'd ever been to one before.
Within a few minutes the waitress came up to take our order. Being the smart ass I am I said (in my best Elvis accent) "I'd like a peanut butter sandwich please". She looked at me with the "are you an e'ffing idiot" look and walked away. She was not amused.
That was my first and last time in a strip club. If I die tomorrow, someone please tell that story at my funeral ok? I thank you in advance.
Tia
Back in about 2003 I was on a Halloween pub crawl with the gang from MY 96/CHAT. Some of you reading this might have been there too. My costume was this plastic Elvis half face mask that had his hair and trademark sunglasses. Top that off with a beautiful powder blue pair of pants and a 70's big collared shirt and I had the King down to a tee, but with boobs.
We were at this little lounge called Cougars, which was upstairs from a strip club in the basement of the building. For whatever reason, a group of us decided to give the strip club a whirl for shits and giggles. As a woman, I can't say I'd ever been to one before.
Within a few minutes the waitress came up to take our order. Being the smart ass I am I said (in my best Elvis accent) "I'd like a peanut butter sandwich please". She looked at me with the "are you an e'ffing idiot" look and walked away. She was not amused.
That was my first and last time in a strip club. If I die tomorrow, someone please tell that story at my funeral ok? I thank you in advance.
Tia
Monday, August 22, 2011
Too Picky?
You always hear stories of single women whose friends claim they're just too picky, and that is the lone reason they're not hitched up. I, for one, think it's perfectly fine to wait till someone passes your sniff test rather than hook up with someone and settle, hoping to find abundant things you like about them that out weigh the things you'd rather overlook.
I won't try to pull the wool over anyone's eyes. I'm as finicky about men as I am about food. As many women do, I too, have " a top 10 list " or requirements and no-no's.
#10) Must not live at home with his parents still. Seriously, I get the whole saving money while you're in school thing, but by the time you're a min 27-28, you should be gonzo from the nesto pablo.
#9) Must be employed. There is no forgiveness on this one. I'm a Leo, and I'm selfish with my money. That's why I don't have kids.
#8) So yeah, about that kids thing, not sure I want them. And marriage, well, not high on my to do list either. I know, I'm a catch. Speaking of catch, I don't eat fish either. EVER. In anything. Or Eggs.
#7) Must be sincerely nice. I always choose to surround myself with people by this guideline: You can tell how people are by how they treat the wait staff. If they for one minute treat them as if they're below them, then heed that red flag.
#6) Quirkiness is a must. And sprinkle in some geek too, with a big dash of hippy. We'll get along just fine.
#5) Big trucks hoisted up 5 ft in the air with their big mufflers or a motorcycle as a second vehicle don't impress me much. Truthfully, a man in Jetta will have me at "das auto".
#4) Thinning hair, no hair, bad hair. Uncle Jessie set the hair standard for this gal. If you can't raise the hair bar, don't come combing around my house.
#3) There's nothing more un-sexy about a man, than one who's crude and rude. Cat-calls and F-bombs are an instant no thank you. I want a man who has never sworn around his mother or grandmother. Or if he did, he said "excuse my language".
#2) I have a huge thing for sweetness and people who do nice things without being asked to. It says a lot about how considerate and thoughtful someone is. I believe in good deeds, generousity, and not keeping count.
#1) James Dean may have looked cool with a cig in his mouth, but if he would have asked me out, I would have said no. Sorry. Non-smokers only. I value my lungs, and I suspect I'll need them when I'm 40, much like my knees.
Ironically, after typing this, the movie "10" came to mind. So here's to one day meeting my "10" too :)
(although judging by this list, it may take awhile - but I have the patience of Job).
Tia
I won't try to pull the wool over anyone's eyes. I'm as finicky about men as I am about food. As many women do, I too, have " a top 10 list " or requirements and no-no's.
#10) Must not live at home with his parents still. Seriously, I get the whole saving money while you're in school thing, but by the time you're a min 27-28, you should be gonzo from the nesto pablo.
#9) Must be employed. There is no forgiveness on this one. I'm a Leo, and I'm selfish with my money. That's why I don't have kids.
#8) So yeah, about that kids thing, not sure I want them. And marriage, well, not high on my to do list either. I know, I'm a catch. Speaking of catch, I don't eat fish either. EVER. In anything. Or Eggs.
#7) Must be sincerely nice. I always choose to surround myself with people by this guideline: You can tell how people are by how they treat the wait staff. If they for one minute treat them as if they're below them, then heed that red flag.
#6) Quirkiness is a must. And sprinkle in some geek too, with a big dash of hippy. We'll get along just fine.
#5) Big trucks hoisted up 5 ft in the air with their big mufflers or a motorcycle as a second vehicle don't impress me much. Truthfully, a man in Jetta will have me at "das auto".
#4) Thinning hair, no hair, bad hair. Uncle Jessie set the hair standard for this gal. If you can't raise the hair bar, don't come combing around my house.
#3) There's nothing more un-sexy about a man, than one who's crude and rude. Cat-calls and F-bombs are an instant no thank you. I want a man who has never sworn around his mother or grandmother. Or if he did, he said "excuse my language".
#2) I have a huge thing for sweetness and people who do nice things without being asked to. It says a lot about how considerate and thoughtful someone is. I believe in good deeds, generousity, and not keeping count.
#1) James Dean may have looked cool with a cig in his mouth, but if he would have asked me out, I would have said no. Sorry. Non-smokers only. I value my lungs, and I suspect I'll need them when I'm 40, much like my knees.
Ironically, after typing this, the movie "10" came to mind. So here's to one day meeting my "10" too :)
(although judging by this list, it may take awhile - but I have the patience of Job).
Tia
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Shitty Summer Jobs
I was driving through Evraz Place today, quiet as a ghost-town with the Queen City Ex done for another summer. It reminded me of that point towards the end of summer when you were younger and grateful summer was almost finished because you were working the worst summer job ever.
I think back to some of mine. When I was 15, myself and another girl were hired to paint oil wells. We were transported from well to well, painted, then moved on. The upside was that at that age, I was making $10 an hour, which back then was some serious grown up money. The downside, it wasn't rocket science, it was rather boring, and you're around slimy rig pigs all day.
At 16, I took odd jobs, including packing sileage. For those who don't know what this is, you basically drive back and forth, up and down in a tractor, packing the sileage that's been dumped into the pit. The better it's packed, the better it keeps I believe is the reasoning. So here I am, in a small Massey tractor with no cab, in the summer sun, back and forth. Not the most aspiring job ever. The upside was, I had a lot of time to think...a lot!
When I was about 18, I made the move out to BC for the summer. At first I attempted to work as a cashier at a Shell station. It was on the main highway, busy as hell, and I had an incredibly impatient boss who insisted we count change back on every transaction. I think I worked two shifts and quit. I did gain a whole new respect for people at gas stations. Especially ones in high traffic locations. Can you say pressure cooker??
After the gas station thing didn't work out, I set out to pick cherries for the summer in the Okanogan. We lived in a tent, and shared a common pickers shack for showering, bathroom and kitchen areas. We met a lot of different people, as a lot of Europeans and Quebecers hit up BC to work the orchards in the summer and it was a pretty carefree gypsy lifestyle. The downside though was that the pay was the shits, you had to be up picking by 6am to beat the heat (once cherries are too warm they come off the stem), and physically it was hard work. Not as hard as picking apples or peaches from what I've heard. One should mention as well that you're often tempted to eat what you pick, and in the case of cherries, well they have certain laxative qualities if you know what I mean. Rarely do I ever eat a cherry now.
Tia
I think back to some of mine. When I was 15, myself and another girl were hired to paint oil wells. We were transported from well to well, painted, then moved on. The upside was that at that age, I was making $10 an hour, which back then was some serious grown up money. The downside, it wasn't rocket science, it was rather boring, and you're around slimy rig pigs all day.
At 16, I took odd jobs, including packing sileage. For those who don't know what this is, you basically drive back and forth, up and down in a tractor, packing the sileage that's been dumped into the pit. The better it's packed, the better it keeps I believe is the reasoning. So here I am, in a small Massey tractor with no cab, in the summer sun, back and forth. Not the most aspiring job ever. The upside was, I had a lot of time to think...a lot!
When I was about 18, I made the move out to BC for the summer. At first I attempted to work as a cashier at a Shell station. It was on the main highway, busy as hell, and I had an incredibly impatient boss who insisted we count change back on every transaction. I think I worked two shifts and quit. I did gain a whole new respect for people at gas stations. Especially ones in high traffic locations. Can you say pressure cooker??
After the gas station thing didn't work out, I set out to pick cherries for the summer in the Okanogan. We lived in a tent, and shared a common pickers shack for showering, bathroom and kitchen areas. We met a lot of different people, as a lot of Europeans and Quebecers hit up BC to work the orchards in the summer and it was a pretty carefree gypsy lifestyle. The downside though was that the pay was the shits, you had to be up picking by 6am to beat the heat (once cherries are too warm they come off the stem), and physically it was hard work. Not as hard as picking apples or peaches from what I've heard. One should mention as well that you're often tempted to eat what you pick, and in the case of cherries, well they have certain laxative qualities if you know what I mean. Rarely do I ever eat a cherry now.
Tia
Monday, August 15, 2011
In Sugarland's Shoes
Many are still in disbelief over the tragedy this past weekend with the collapsing of the stage at the Indiana State Fair minutes before Sugarland was to perform. 5 people are dead and many are going to be scarred either physically, emotionally or mentally.
Kristian Bush released this statement: "Our fans just came to see a show, and it ended in something terrible. My heart is totally broken for the families and friends of those who lost their lives. It's broken for all the people who got hurt, for the people who were scared. I thank God for every person who lifted a truss, who pushed against that metal to get it off someone; for every person who used a chair as a stretcher. I thank God for every fan and emergency responder, for everyone who ran to the trouble instead of away from it. The courage of those men and women will forever be with me." -
I recently met Kristian and Jennifer at Craven. They were both sweet and genuine and incredibly grateful for their fans and their support. I watched how sincere they were about the Little Miss project and how their fans interpreted that song in home-made videos in tribute to the message. I watched a video recently of a teen-age girl who started a campaign to just get something as simple as a hug from Sugarland when they played in her city. It paid off as this young girl was taken backstage with a friend and surprised when Jennifer and Kristian walked into the room and each gave her a huge hug, sending her over the moon.
Today 4 members of their "Fan Family" are no longer alive and one 14 year old boy is paralyzed because they only wanted to see their favourite band perform. When I try to put myself in their shoes, I feel heartbreak for Jennifer and Kristian knowing they must feel immense sadness and possibly guilt over this whole tragedy. It may take awhile for them to ever step up on stage again without feeling heavy hearted. Not to mention their fear of being on stage, considering they were only minutes away from stepping up to sing on the same stage that buckled like a toothpick in the wind. From this point on, Sugarland, like many who experienced that fateful night at the Indy State Fair, will be trying to heal.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
One of those Moments
At the beginning of July, my cat Mozers got hit by a car and I had to put her to sleep. I had her since the very minute she came into this world back in 2005. She was the only grey cat in a litter of siamese kitties. She was the first to walk, eat, purr and poop. She was my little baby so it was heartbreaking to put her down.
The first few days after are the hardest, and by day 3 you reach a point of being at peace with everything and the world goes on again. But every now and then you have "a moment".
Tonight I took off my black socks, rolled them up into a ball, and then threw them across the room for Bazil to play with. And the memory of Mozers slapped me in the face. She was very "siamese" in behavior and had some unique qualities. One of them was black socks. For whatever reason she was drawn to them. Sometimes she would just go into my closet and pull out a pair of black socks and walk around the house with them. Sometimes she would take a pair of black socks from the laundry, walk into the bathroom, and put them in the toilet. True story! I have no idea why, but it was her thing.
So when that pair of black socks landed on the floor tonight, I had " a moment ", teared up, thought about her for a few minutes, wiped my eyes, got up and put them in the laundry basket and smiled.
Tia
The first few days after are the hardest, and by day 3 you reach a point of being at peace with everything and the world goes on again. But every now and then you have "a moment".
Tonight I took off my black socks, rolled them up into a ball, and then threw them across the room for Bazil to play with. And the memory of Mozers slapped me in the face. She was very "siamese" in behavior and had some unique qualities. One of them was black socks. For whatever reason she was drawn to them. Sometimes she would just go into my closet and pull out a pair of black socks and walk around the house with them. Sometimes she would take a pair of black socks from the laundry, walk into the bathroom, and put them in the toilet. True story! I have no idea why, but it was her thing.
So when that pair of black socks landed on the floor tonight, I had " a moment ", teared up, thought about her for a few minutes, wiped my eyes, got up and put them in the laundry basket and smiled.
Tia
Thursday, July 21, 2011
People Watcher
One of my favourite things to do is to people watch. Tonight I was in the restaurant at my hotel observing two very different scenarios.
The first was a couple on my left, in their mid 40's, who barely said a word to each other the whole time they were there. They didn't seem to enjoy each other's company at all, and couldn't find a conversation that they seemed to have a vested interest in on both sides. My impression was that marriage had probably run its course. He seemed helpless and she seemed disinterested.
To my right, the somewhat opposite. A woman in her late 50's, early 60's. She was originally from New York and had been living the last few years in Florida (Pensacola I think she said). She's apparently been coming to Biloxi for many years. One day she just told her husband she was going, he said ok goodbye, and she got in the car and drove 7 hours to get here. She's happy as spit to be enjoying the "her" time, just relaxing and eating her pecan pie.
That'll probably be me when I'm her age. Not a care in the world, off to the freedom of my heart's content, driving endless miles just to be someplace that grounds and humbles me. It would beat being the other couple for shizzle. I actually found myself thinking "if I'm like that when I'm married that we can't even talk to each other like we enjoy being with each other, then just shoot me".
As a cliff note, pecan pie is huge in the south for some reason. I don't get it.
Tia
The first was a couple on my left, in their mid 40's, who barely said a word to each other the whole time they were there. They didn't seem to enjoy each other's company at all, and couldn't find a conversation that they seemed to have a vested interest in on both sides. My impression was that marriage had probably run its course. He seemed helpless and she seemed disinterested.
To my right, the somewhat opposite. A woman in her late 50's, early 60's. She was originally from New York and had been living the last few years in Florida (Pensacola I think she said). She's apparently been coming to Biloxi for many years. One day she just told her husband she was going, he said ok goodbye, and she got in the car and drove 7 hours to get here. She's happy as spit to be enjoying the "her" time, just relaxing and eating her pecan pie.
That'll probably be me when I'm her age. Not a care in the world, off to the freedom of my heart's content, driving endless miles just to be someplace that grounds and humbles me. It would beat being the other couple for shizzle. I actually found myself thinking "if I'm like that when I'm married that we can't even talk to each other like we enjoy being with each other, then just shoot me".
As a cliff note, pecan pie is huge in the south for some reason. I don't get it.
Tia
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