Tuesday 29 November 2011
A strange prize even for me...
A couple of weeks ago, I put in an online entry for a "meat" prize pack. It was through one of the local radio stations, and I remember commenting to Mom that it was a bit out there, even for the two of us. (I secretly wanted the Christmas concert tickets they were also offering (a boys choir) so I filled out an entry form for both) Anyway, I got a call on Friday afternoon that I had won a "meat prize pack." One hundred and eighty dollars worth of packaged meat. Hmmm. Okay. Mom will likely take most of it, since she's a bigger meat eater than I am, but I truly was left asking myself "What promotion department would go out there looking for a sweet meat deal?" LOL. Sometimes, the radio is just plain weird. :-) I also remember thinking "watch me win this thing." Ahhh...the power of the mind!
Sunday 27 November 2011
Too highbrow for me...
I recently entered a CBC (Canadian Broadcast Corporation) writing contest. The call for entries entitled "Winter Tales" was for an essay that detailed a "true to life" winter experience that was no more than 500 words.This was the first time I had entered anything associated with the CBC because frankly, in years past I've always viewed them as "out of my league." They give out awards to well known Canadian authors like Margaret Atwood or Margaret Laurence (Stone Angel anyone?)
They've since posted a bunch of entries from this contest (mine isn't among them) and I can see that I was right. So, NOT MY STYLE. It reminds me a little of Top Chef. I LOVE watching the competitors run around like crazy people trying to get everything cooked to perfection under the wire and I'm not above learning about a new ingredient/new dish, but it doesn't mean I'll ever eat it myself. (Does anybody really think cow tongue makes a good dinner?) That's how I felt while skimming through a lot of the entries for this writing contest. Everything just felt so contrived/worked over and forced. I found the descriptions to be completely over the top and nothing really "hit" me on any level. It was all entirely forgetable for me.
I'm a straight shooter, what you see is what you get and it was clear that my style had little place in the competition so I'm really glad I hadn't already spent the grand prize of $1000 because well, let me just say it right here, so NOT going to happen! LOL.
Big thanks to the CBC for letting me enter for free and helping me see that the $25 fee for the next short story contest is better off in my wallet.
Here's my essay for those of you who might be interested and just to clarify, no I'm not a "hockey mom." Poetic License rocks!
Hockey Mom
Winter has always been my nemesis. Swirling gusts of frosty wind, icy fingers, clawing at the back of my exposed neck. The fur-lined hood I try so valiantly to keep snug against the sides of my face sliding back and down at the first opportunity.
Traitor.
The sneakers on my feet are no better. I can feel them giving away under the demands of the slippery surface. The boots at the bottom of my closet are sharing a laugh. “Can you believe she left without us this morning?”
Sadly, they’re right.
My shoelaces are untied and soaked, dangling precariously, two limp, wet noodles, threatening to trip me at anytime. I jam my hands into the two side pockets because, of course, I forgot my gloves. They are sitting on my kitchen table, right next to the forgotten house keys. It’s that kind of day.
I board the bus, only to be met with streaks of messy, gray slush on the rubber of the narrow aisle. Not a seat to be had. I grab for the loop over my head, praying that it’s enough to keep me upright. I don’t think the man on the seat behind me would appreciate someone falling onto his lap. I squeeze the loop harder, determined to push the tumbling image from my mind.
I make it to stop in one piece. I send up silent thanks to whoever might be listening and make my way to the already opening door of the bus. For a split second I am grateful to be away from the crush of bodies, until I see what’s directly in front of me. As I walk down the two steps in my still undone runners, I find myself face to face with a huge snow bank. The plow beat us here so I am forced to walk down the side of the road until I finally spot a small opening and make my way up to the cleared sidewalk. At least I avoided the public humiliation of trying to climb a six foot mountain in my already battered shoes.
The sidewalk is my friend until I walk about thirty feet, only to discover a serious coat of black ice. I needn’t have worried about falling into the arms of a stranger; instead, I am content to fall on a hard slab of concrete. I hear the crack of my wrist before I feel the throbbing ache. I stand up quickly, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Even in pain, I felt the hot rush of embarrassment stain my cheeks.
I can see the arena from where I stand. I’m not going to let him down. It’s my son’s first hockey game. He had been ecstatic when he made the team, the look on his face when he slipped that jersey over his head for the first time, was pure unadulterated joy. Cradling my arm, I rush forward, determination in every step. My son is waiting.
Here's the link to some that have been posted. It looks like they are from authors who have previously won contests with the CBC so they aren't technically "entries" for consideration, but you can feel the tone/direction for each piece and I clearly didn't go anywhere near the right vicinity. I'll be over in the kiddie section where I might stand a chance next year...:-)
http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadawrites/fea
They've since posted a bunch of entries from this contest (mine isn't among them) and I can see that I was right. So, NOT MY STYLE. It reminds me a little of Top Chef. I LOVE watching the competitors run around like crazy people trying to get everything cooked to perfection under the wire and I'm not above learning about a new ingredient/new dish, but it doesn't mean I'll ever eat it myself. (Does anybody really think cow tongue makes a good dinner?) That's how I felt while skimming through a lot of the entries for this writing contest. Everything just felt so contrived/worked over and forced. I found the descriptions to be completely over the top and nothing really "hit" me on any level. It was all entirely forgetable for me.
I'm a straight shooter, what you see is what you get and it was clear that my style had little place in the competition so I'm really glad I hadn't already spent the grand prize of $1000 because well, let me just say it right here, so NOT going to happen! LOL.
Big thanks to the CBC for letting me enter for free and helping me see that the $25 fee for the next short story contest is better off in my wallet.
Here's my essay for those of you who might be interested and just to clarify, no I'm not a "hockey mom." Poetic License rocks!
Hockey Mom
Winter has always been my nemesis. Swirling gusts of frosty wind, icy fingers, clawing at the back of my exposed neck. The fur-lined hood I try so valiantly to keep snug against the sides of my face sliding back and down at the first opportunity.
Traitor.
The sneakers on my feet are no better. I can feel them giving away under the demands of the slippery surface. The boots at the bottom of my closet are sharing a laugh. “Can you believe she left without us this morning?”
Sadly, they’re right.
My shoelaces are untied and soaked, dangling precariously, two limp, wet noodles, threatening to trip me at anytime. I jam my hands into the two side pockets because, of course, I forgot my gloves. They are sitting on my kitchen table, right next to the forgotten house keys. It’s that kind of day.
I board the bus, only to be met with streaks of messy, gray slush on the rubber of the narrow aisle. Not a seat to be had. I grab for the loop over my head, praying that it’s enough to keep me upright. I don’t think the man on the seat behind me would appreciate someone falling onto his lap. I squeeze the loop harder, determined to push the tumbling image from my mind.
I make it to stop in one piece. I send up silent thanks to whoever might be listening and make my way to the already opening door of the bus. For a split second I am grateful to be away from the crush of bodies, until I see what’s directly in front of me. As I walk down the two steps in my still undone runners, I find myself face to face with a huge snow bank. The plow beat us here so I am forced to walk down the side of the road until I finally spot a small opening and make my way up to the cleared sidewalk. At least I avoided the public humiliation of trying to climb a six foot mountain in my already battered shoes.
The sidewalk is my friend until I walk about thirty feet, only to discover a serious coat of black ice. I needn’t have worried about falling into the arms of a stranger; instead, I am content to fall on a hard slab of concrete. I hear the crack of my wrist before I feel the throbbing ache. I stand up quickly, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Even in pain, I felt the hot rush of embarrassment stain my cheeks.
I can see the arena from where I stand. I’m not going to let him down. It’s my son’s first hockey game. He had been ecstatic when he made the team, the look on his face when he slipped that jersey over his head for the first time, was pure unadulterated joy. Cradling my arm, I rush forward, determination in every step. My son is waiting.
Here's the link to some that have been posted. It looks like they are from authors who have previously won contests with the CBC so they aren't technically "entries" for consideration, but you can feel the tone/direction for each piece and I clearly didn't go anywhere near the right vicinity. I'll be over in the kiddie section where I might stand a chance next year...:-)
http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadawrites/fea
Thursday 24 November 2011
Flying the friendly skies
I never mentioned during my UK travel blog that on our way out of London, security at Gatwick airport filed a report when my wheelchair tested positive for "kit." I had no idea what that meant (I later asked and found out it was traces of an explosive.) I started to panic as I saw the pens and papers coming out complete with a round of twenty questions. Is this your chair? How long have you had it? I failed the test twice (they swab the chair with a white piece of cloth looking for anything suspicious.)
Mom had her own issues as she was carrying too many liquids in her carry-on and they were having a field day pulling everything apart. I'll admit it, I started to panic, my first thought was "Should I be calling the Canadian Embassy? I know it sounds ridiculous, but when you see something like this unfolding in front of you, your first instinct is to try and protect yourself. This is a new day where everyone is a potential suspect, no matter how benevolent they may seem. As soon as they finished with the paper work and Mom had gathered all of our bags, I made her backtrack and ask the lady what this all meant. "Don't worry about it." She said, complete with a smile.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they were nice about it, but I am currently in the process of trying to find out what filing that report could mean for my passport and future travels. As I've already said, I'm going back to the UK in August, so clearing this matter up has taken on new importance. I came home determined to clear things up quickly, but a call to customs agents here yielded little help. Because the issue happened at Gatwick airport on the way home, officials here told me it had nothing to do with them and that if I wanted to know what had been written about the incident, I could file a request under the "Freedom of Information Act." Honestly, I had no clue where to start with any of that, so I did the next best thing. I went to the Gatwick airport site and discovered that they have a facebook page and "will do their best to answer any questions." I laughed cynically at the thought, an airport actually answering questions from someone half a world away? Yeah right.
I was astounded when I went to their page. They had actually posted pictures of the grand opening of their newly refurbished North Terminal . When we had passed through it, it was an absolute mess. Anyway, they were posting a live minute by minute account of the ribbon cutting cermony with the mayor, and John Mayer was on hand to sing at the festivities. It was so bizarre. You would never see anything like that in Toronto. Sure, you'd read about it in the papers, but you'd never get a birdseye view of it all. It reminded me of why I loved the UK so much. This is truly how they live their lives, a slower pace, a feeling of inclusion, and a quiet pride about where they live.
People had already commented on the wall, offering suggestions and talking about how great it looked. Each suggestion has been acknowledged and any that might be implemented, met with enthusiasm. "Great idea, we'll pass that on to our customer relations department for consideration!"
I bit the bullet and posted about my situation (not my first choice on a public board but the site had no relevant email addresses) and they got right back to me, saying that they will contact the necessary department and be in touch. I couldn't believe it, an actual person read/responded to my plite. There is an accountibility over there that is becoming a thing of the past here. Mom and I didn't see one messy store or hear a cross word from anyone. You get that "small town" feel even though you may not be in a small town. People stop what they're doing and listen, they take things in. It's a welcome change.
I also have to commend Gatwick for marketing themselves full throttle. Last I checked, there was an ad up for a cannon camera "that was 60 pounds less than retail" at one of the airport stores. It was so neat reading about the different stores, restaurants and internet servies in an AIRPORT. I can guarantee that Toronto's Pearson International would never market themselves like that. Waiting in line for an hour? Too bad. Bad food? Oh well.
And kudos to Gatwick for having new scanning kiosks for their UK passengers to self-scan their passports. I wish they would allow this for international passengers as well, but I can understand why they might be leary of that option. (Canada doesn't even have chipped passports yet and as it turns out, I will be one of the last to get one because my passport is due for renewal in a few months and they aren't switching to the chip until the end of the year.) On one hand I am thrilled because the chipped version of Canadian passports is going to cost $287 for a five year term. Compare that with $87 for the current passport and $135 for the chipped US version that is good for ten years instead of five. For whatever reason, Canada is forever high on the price scale of just about everything.
Anyway back to my quandary. I am waiting for the promised contact from customer service and somehow I believe they just might come through. It's nice to know that even if it's only sometimes, the customer can in fact, be right and get some decent service, even if they have to travel half way around the world to find it.
Mom had her own issues as she was carrying too many liquids in her carry-on and they were having a field day pulling everything apart. I'll admit it, I started to panic, my first thought was "Should I be calling the Canadian Embassy? I know it sounds ridiculous, but when you see something like this unfolding in front of you, your first instinct is to try and protect yourself. This is a new day where everyone is a potential suspect, no matter how benevolent they may seem. As soon as they finished with the paper work and Mom had gathered all of our bags, I made her backtrack and ask the lady what this all meant. "Don't worry about it." She said, complete with a smile.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they were nice about it, but I am currently in the process of trying to find out what filing that report could mean for my passport and future travels. As I've already said, I'm going back to the UK in August, so clearing this matter up has taken on new importance. I came home determined to clear things up quickly, but a call to customs agents here yielded little help. Because the issue happened at Gatwick airport on the way home, officials here told me it had nothing to do with them and that if I wanted to know what had been written about the incident, I could file a request under the "Freedom of Information Act." Honestly, I had no clue where to start with any of that, so I did the next best thing. I went to the Gatwick airport site and discovered that they have a facebook page and "will do their best to answer any questions." I laughed cynically at the thought, an airport actually answering questions from someone half a world away? Yeah right.
I was astounded when I went to their page. They had actually posted pictures of the grand opening of their newly refurbished North Terminal . When we had passed through it, it was an absolute mess. Anyway, they were posting a live minute by minute account of the ribbon cutting cermony with the mayor, and John Mayer was on hand to sing at the festivities. It was so bizarre. You would never see anything like that in Toronto. Sure, you'd read about it in the papers, but you'd never get a birdseye view of it all. It reminded me of why I loved the UK so much. This is truly how they live their lives, a slower pace, a feeling of inclusion, and a quiet pride about where they live.
People had already commented on the wall, offering suggestions and talking about how great it looked. Each suggestion has been acknowledged and any that might be implemented, met with enthusiasm. "Great idea, we'll pass that on to our customer relations department for consideration!"
I bit the bullet and posted about my situation (not my first choice on a public board but the site had no relevant email addresses) and they got right back to me, saying that they will contact the necessary department and be in touch. I couldn't believe it, an actual person read/responded to my plite. There is an accountibility over there that is becoming a thing of the past here. Mom and I didn't see one messy store or hear a cross word from anyone. You get that "small town" feel even though you may not be in a small town. People stop what they're doing and listen, they take things in. It's a welcome change.
I also have to commend Gatwick for marketing themselves full throttle. Last I checked, there was an ad up for a cannon camera "that was 60 pounds less than retail" at one of the airport stores. It was so neat reading about the different stores, restaurants and internet servies in an AIRPORT. I can guarantee that Toronto's Pearson International would never market themselves like that. Waiting in line for an hour? Too bad. Bad food? Oh well.
And kudos to Gatwick for having new scanning kiosks for their UK passengers to self-scan their passports. I wish they would allow this for international passengers as well, but I can understand why they might be leary of that option. (Canada doesn't even have chipped passports yet and as it turns out, I will be one of the last to get one because my passport is due for renewal in a few months and they aren't switching to the chip until the end of the year.) On one hand I am thrilled because the chipped version of Canadian passports is going to cost $287 for a five year term. Compare that with $87 for the current passport and $135 for the chipped US version that is good for ten years instead of five. For whatever reason, Canada is forever high on the price scale of just about everything.
Anyway back to my quandary. I am waiting for the promised contact from customer service and somehow I believe they just might come through. It's nice to know that even if it's only sometimes, the customer can in fact, be right and get some decent service, even if they have to travel half way around the world to find it.
Sunday 20 November 2011
Summer Journey
http://www.princess.com/find/itineraryDe
Our 8 day Scotland/Ireland Cruise. Same Cruise line as last summer (boooo) Smaller ship (Yay! I think :-))
Here's the link to the small studio we are renting during or 3 day London stay, pre-cruise.
http://www.airbnb.com/rooms/102565
Looks like a cute little place, and the owner is an artist/illustrator formerly from Boston. Central to everything, and I have to say, I'm excited about the pre-olympic/opening day hype.. Yes, I'm worried about the crowds, but you only live once, and this will be my only chance to soak up the charged olympic atmosphere. I'm sure the locals will be getting out of dodge while the rest of us clamour for London 2012 paraphernalia, true to our tourist roots.
Accomodation number two:
http://www.airbnb.com/rooms/132572
This one makes me think of going off to Grandma's cottage for the summer. Of course, my grandmother never had a cottage but if she did, this would be it! I mean seriously, how cute is this place? And the name..."Primrose Cottage." so English!
Anyway, it's in a small seaside town called Deal and we are staying for five days after we get back from London. Deal is about half an hour from Dover (I think) which is the port where the cruise sails from. Though small, Deal looks like it has both charm and elegance. A Saturday market, a restaurant complete with a sliding glass roof for summer dining under the stars, and a great habour view. Though I would love to stay in London longer, I know that Mom will welcome the slower pace that this location is known for. It's also just a twenty-eight mile ferry ride across the Straight of Dover to a small French town called Calais. We'll see about visiting and we might fit Brussels in there too since it isn't far off. It all depends on the cost/ease of travel.
http://www.deal.gov.uk/Contents/Text/Ind
NavSideId=13503
http://www.calais.com/
As I said, Dover is nearby, best known for :it's white cliffs and Dover Castle. We'll see if we make it there to explore or if it will just be a means to an end as far as getting on the ship. A friend tells me the castle is worth a tour, but the rest may not be, we'll see how it goes..
http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/dayso
All of this will be followed by the cruise of Scotland/Ireland. I truly am disappointed to be going on one of the Princess Cruises again, I wish I could try another, but the price is reasonable and they are one of the few with access to Scotland. There are others, but they are more expensive and frankly, I got tired of reading reviews that said "Frank and Betty just got back from their fifteenth cruise with XYZ and it was just FABULOUS and for number sixteen (in three months) they are going to Bora Bora with Feefee and Fiddo". I'll say this for Princess, their passengers aren't snobs (and the one guy who was at our dinner table, was met with eye rolls and shakes of the head. (and he was the only one that didn't notice) You know who I'm talking about. :-)
That's it for now, it's early in the planning stages yet.
Our 8 day Scotland/Ireland Cruise. Same Cruise line as last summer (boooo) Smaller ship (Yay! I think :-))
Here's the link to the small studio we are renting during or 3 day London stay, pre-cruise.
http://www.airbnb.com/rooms/102565
Looks like a cute little place, and the owner is an artist/illustrator formerly from Boston. Central to everything, and I have to say, I'm excited about the pre-olympic/opening day hype.. Yes, I'm worried about the crowds, but you only live once, and this will be my only chance to soak up the charged olympic atmosphere. I'm sure the locals will be getting out of dodge while the rest of us clamour for London 2012 paraphernalia, true to our tourist roots.
Accomodation number two:
http://www.airbnb.com/rooms/132572
This one makes me think of going off to Grandma's cottage for the summer. Of course, my grandmother never had a cottage but if she did, this would be it! I mean seriously, how cute is this place? And the name..."Primrose Cottage." so English!
Anyway, it's in a small seaside town called Deal and we are staying for five days after we get back from London. Deal is about half an hour from Dover (I think) which is the port where the cruise sails from. Though small, Deal looks like it has both charm and elegance. A Saturday market, a restaurant complete with a sliding glass roof for summer dining under the stars, and a great habour view. Though I would love to stay in London longer, I know that Mom will welcome the slower pace that this location is known for. It's also just a twenty-eight mile ferry ride across the Straight of Dover to a small French town called Calais. We'll see about visiting and we might fit Brussels in there too since it isn't far off. It all depends on the cost/ease of travel.
http://www.deal.gov.uk/Contents/Text/Ind
NavSideId=13503
http://www.calais.com/
As I said, Dover is nearby, best known for :it's white cliffs and Dover Castle. We'll see if we make it there to explore or if it will just be a means to an end as far as getting on the ship. A friend tells me the castle is worth a tour, but the rest may not be, we'll see how it goes..
http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/dayso
All of this will be followed by the cruise of Scotland/Ireland. I truly am disappointed to be going on one of the Princess Cruises again, I wish I could try another, but the price is reasonable and they are one of the few with access to Scotland. There are others, but they are more expensive and frankly, I got tired of reading reviews that said "Frank and Betty just got back from their fifteenth cruise with XYZ and it was just FABULOUS and for number sixteen (in three months) they are going to Bora Bora with Feefee and Fiddo". I'll say this for Princess, their passengers aren't snobs (and the one guy who was at our dinner table, was met with eye rolls and shakes of the head. (and he was the only one that didn't notice) You know who I'm talking about. :-)
That's it for now, it's early in the planning stages yet.
Thursday 17 November 2011
Let it snow, let it snow, here we go...
First sign of snow today. I could actually smell the snow in the air as I woke up this morning, sounds kooky, but is entirely true. I was walking out to meet Mom and saw the white flakes fluttering slowly to the ground. As I stepped outside, the flakes stopped. Good choice! I still can't believe it's already the middle of November. I don't know where the time goes, it seems to slip away from me. Age? I'm not sure. I'm missing my kids in a big way lately. Mom and I are in the midst of planning our summer vacation, another big one (more on that over the weekend) that might be why I'm a little sad, realizing that once again, I'm leaving my apartment gladly because I have no reason to stay.
Saturday 12 November 2011
Illumination Frustration
So I've been at Mom's since Thursday afternoon because I was supposed to "supervise" the decorating of her indoor windows with the approach of the holiday season (Can anyone believe it's already a third of the way through November?) Anyway, so far the window is bare thanks to errands, endless cooking in the kitchen and a trip down to the underground storage locker to ***look*** for the lights, only to haul the wrong box up to reveal, wait for it...the OUTDOOR lights. That's the kind of luck we have. Poor Mom was down there pushing aside candy machines (long story) boxes, dodads, and whatsits only to pull out the wrong stuff. So, as we speak, she is outside in her stocking feet and pajamas stringing lights around her balcony railing. Did I mention that she strung them all up in a nice, even line, only to find that the plug was at the wrong end of it all? Yeah. She's just come in and asked me to make a salad for lunch, best to make myself useful in here before <I> get put on light duty!
Update: The lights are WAY too dark on this side of the railing so that they blend in with the garland..
I'm home now, and last I heard, the light fairy was adding white icicle lights to the bunch to lighten things up. Do people really find decorating fun? I stopped doing a lot of it a few years ago. Though I love the final result, I just can't be bothered with putting in the effort to get there anymore. It was different with the kitties, they truly enjoyed seeing things lit up and Kasey was a sucker for the animated figure who moved, candle in hand. She would sit in front of him (a little boy with an English cap) and watch the movement for an hour at a time. Bud was partial to the high tech glistening snowmen favoured by Mom. For a few years after Kasey's death, we spent a lot of time there together during holidays. I still miss doing little stockings for them and it was K's birthday to boot, so she always got a little extra treat in her haul. She was forever nosy, sticking her face right down into the stocking, never quite managing to get anything out herself, but hey, the effort was half the fun! Buddy expected me to pull everything out for him and he was always very discerning. What fun we had. It's not wonder it's hard for me to "see the light" and enjoy Christmas anymore :-(
Update: The lights are WAY too dark on this side of the railing so that they blend in with the garland..
I'm home now, and last I heard, the light fairy was adding white icicle lights to the bunch to lighten things up. Do people really find decorating fun? I stopped doing a lot of it a few years ago. Though I love the final result, I just can't be bothered with putting in the effort to get there anymore. It was different with the kitties, they truly enjoyed seeing things lit up and Kasey was a sucker for the animated figure who moved, candle in hand. She would sit in front of him (a little boy with an English cap) and watch the movement for an hour at a time. Bud was partial to the high tech glistening snowmen favoured by Mom. For a few years after Kasey's death, we spent a lot of time there together during holidays. I still miss doing little stockings for them and it was K's birthday to boot, so she always got a little extra treat in her haul. She was forever nosy, sticking her face right down into the stocking, never quite managing to get anything out herself, but hey, the effort was half the fun! Buddy expected me to pull everything out for him and he was always very discerning. What fun we had. It's not wonder it's hard for me to "see the light" and enjoy Christmas anymore :-(
Wednesday 9 November 2011
Radio: Sometimes it can make fools of us all...
It occurs to me that I haven't shared any good "winning" radio stories on here lately. Here's a little gem for you that happened just this morning. Now, I must first clarify that this particular radio station (am 740 in Toronto) is known as "zoomer" radio. I pulled up a definition for those of you who may not know what a "zoomer" is...
Zoomers are boomers who have acquired the ability to live a longer, healthier, adventurous life.
So, in other words, they're old people:-) I have to tell you, they are the FUNNIEST contestants on radio shows ever. They make no apologizes and just plunge right in, no matter how silly it might make them look but sometimes, it's obvious that they just DON'T THINK. I don't know if it's their age, or their nervousness about being "live" on the radio, but I seriously need to start recording this stuff and selling a blooper tape.
Take this morning for example...
I had the phone ringing but they weren't picking up. For this particular station, that means you are the "back up" contestant and you just have to wait patiently, let it ring, and hope the person in front of you gets the multiple choice question wrong so you can swoop in and take the prize. (Did I say that? I meant feel really bad for the person as they get it wrong and you thank your lucky stars that they eliminated the answer that YOU were going to blurt out if you got on ahead of them.)
Today's Category : This is your Life...
Today's Question: What well-known star walked off the set of "This is your Life" in 1993 feeling embarrassed and humiliated?
A) Carol Burnett
B) Angie Dickinson
or
C) (Often the joke answer) Lassie
So, can we guess which one the lady in front of me chose? No, really, she did, apparently, it was no "joke" to her.
I figure in her mind the exchange went something like this
(Howls mournfully)
"That is so NOT TRUE, the kid on the show had it out for me from day one, there was a reason it was called Lassie you know, I was the cutest thing going, and THIS is how they repay me?"
(Barks uncontrollably and starts bearing her teeth )
"I should have taken a bite out of all of you when I had the chance!"
****runs offstage before anyone can put a leash around her neck***
Cue Elton John music "The bitch is back." :-)
Yes, she really said it.
The announcers tried to cover their amusement by saying "oh that would have been very rude of her" but you know during the next commercial break they were having a field day, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud as I was giving them MY answer. (Angie Dickinson) which I figured had to be right since Carol Burnett actually has a sense of humour.
Sadly, this scenario isn't uncommon. Stay tuned. Next year I might just sell the tapes as Christmas stocking stuffers!
I found this little pic and thought it was appropriate for this morning...
or maybe she was just burning the candle at both ends...
Zoomers are boomers who have acquired the ability to live a longer, healthier, adventurous life.
So, in other words, they're old people:-) I have to tell you, they are the FUNNIEST contestants on radio shows ever. They make no apologizes and just plunge right in, no matter how silly it might make them look but sometimes, it's obvious that they just DON'T THINK. I don't know if it's their age, or their nervousness about being "live" on the radio, but I seriously need to start recording this stuff and selling a blooper tape.
Take this morning for example...
I had the phone ringing but they weren't picking up. For this particular station, that means you are the "back up" contestant and you just have to wait patiently, let it ring, and hope the person in front of you gets the multiple choice question wrong so you can swoop in and take the prize. (Did I say that? I meant feel really bad for the person as they get it wrong and you thank your lucky stars that they eliminated the answer that YOU were going to blurt out if you got on ahead of them.)
Today's Category : This is your Life...
Today's Question: What well-known star walked off the set of "This is your Life" in 1993 feeling embarrassed and humiliated?
A) Carol Burnett
B) Angie Dickinson
or
C) (Often the joke answer) Lassie
So, can we guess which one the lady in front of me chose? No, really, she did, apparently, it was no "joke" to her.
I figure in her mind the exchange went something like this
(Howls mournfully)
"That is so NOT TRUE, the kid on the show had it out for me from day one, there was a reason it was called Lassie you know, I was the cutest thing going, and THIS is how they repay me?"
(Barks uncontrollably and starts bearing her teeth )
"I should have taken a bite out of all of you when I had the chance!"
****runs offstage before anyone can put a leash around her neck***
Cue Elton John music "The bitch is back." :-)
Yes, she really said it.
The announcers tried to cover their amusement by saying "oh that would have been very rude of her" but you know during the next commercial break they were having a field day, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud as I was giving them MY answer. (Angie Dickinson) which I figured had to be right since Carol Burnett actually has a sense of humour.
Sadly, this scenario isn't uncommon. Stay tuned. Next year I might just sell the tapes as Christmas stocking stuffers!
I found this little pic and thought it was appropriate for this morning...
or maybe she was just burning the candle at both ends...
Friday 4 November 2011
CP, the T.V. , and I just found me
Cerebral Palsy is an interesting beast. I have often equated her to an untuned television set in that no matter how hard you try to get that crisp, clear picture, it just ain't gonna happen. When I was younger, I fought through the garble, hell, it was even an interesting challenge on most days. I am a firm believer in obstacles building your character and helping you stay true to who you are, what you believe in. That being said, the old girl has been well, I'll just say it, a full on bitch to me for about oh, the last five years. I've watched my mobility slide down a very slippery slope and disappear around the corner, laughing gleefully at stealing what little freedom I've actually had.
It isn't an easy thing to realize at the ripe old age of not-yet forty, you move like an eighty year old. You can forget about slipping away to be alone, chances are if you try it, you'll be slipping away and breaking a hip as you hit the sidewalk in a crumbling heap. Two weeks ago, I steadfastly refused to take the bus alone for this very reason (visions of a rehabilitation centre dancing in my head) and I will tell you, that's not like me. I can usually push the doubts aside and trudge forward. It's a tough pill to swallow when you realize that you're changing the base of who you are to make room for something that insists on creeping in and taking over in equal measure, CP and self-doubt, a deadly combination. (That sounds like a book title doesn't it?) Anyway, I didn't write all of this to indulge in a self-pity moment (though it probably sounds like it) I wrote this because I've conquered her. For the last couple of weeks, the t.v. has been plugged in and the picture is clear. I'm moving better, I'm walking better and for a little while anyway, it's the old Cindy. I've missed her.
I don't know why I'm suddenly firing on all cylinders, but I'll take it because I know this small reprieve will likely disappear just as quicky as it appeared, but yes, I'll take it, I'll grab it and run just as fast as my tuned in legs will carry me. I earned it, it's mine.
I wrote this now because I want to remember this powerful feeling, this feeling that I CAN get back what I once had, if only for a little while. And for those of you that always "have it" remember that it's a gift, not to be taken for granted, enjoy the "clear picture" because some of us are fighting our way through a lot of static just to do the simple things.
It isn't an easy thing to realize at the ripe old age of not-yet forty, you move like an eighty year old. You can forget about slipping away to be alone, chances are if you try it, you'll be slipping away and breaking a hip as you hit the sidewalk in a crumbling heap. Two weeks ago, I steadfastly refused to take the bus alone for this very reason (visions of a rehabilitation centre dancing in my head) and I will tell you, that's not like me. I can usually push the doubts aside and trudge forward. It's a tough pill to swallow when you realize that you're changing the base of who you are to make room for something that insists on creeping in and taking over in equal measure, CP and self-doubt, a deadly combination. (That sounds like a book title doesn't it?) Anyway, I didn't write all of this to indulge in a self-pity moment (though it probably sounds like it) I wrote this because I've conquered her. For the last couple of weeks, the t.v. has been plugged in and the picture is clear. I'm moving better, I'm walking better and for a little while anyway, it's the old Cindy. I've missed her.
I don't know why I'm suddenly firing on all cylinders, but I'll take it because I know this small reprieve will likely disappear just as quicky as it appeared, but yes, I'll take it, I'll grab it and run just as fast as my tuned in legs will carry me. I earned it, it's mine.
I wrote this now because I want to remember this powerful feeling, this feeling that I CAN get back what I once had, if only for a little while. And for those of you that always "have it" remember that it's a gift, not to be taken for granted, enjoy the "clear picture" because some of us are fighting our way through a lot of static just to do the simple things.
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