Tag Archives: granny blogs

Shock-a-Bye Baby

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buildingblocksTurn on the music and turn off the noise.
Pull out the building blocks, puzzles and toys.
Stick to the basics and you’ll be okay.
‘Cause rock-a-bye baby, is high-tech today.

                        

Don’t panic: I spotted a friend in the baby aisles of a department store the other day. She had the wide-eyed look of a frazzled shopper in the throes of a panic attack. As I approached her, she hollered at me, “What the heck has happened to our babies?”

False alarm: Well I guess the sales girl and a few nearby shoppers thought this was an Amber Alert in the making – so you can imagine the kerfuffle that ensued. Once the fracas died down and she explained that we in fact had no babies, I took her for a cup of tea to calm what was left of her nerves. It appears she had just become a new grandmother and simply wanted to buy a few things for her grandson.

Gizmos and Gear: My poor unsuspecting friend was completely overwhelmed by the complexity of all the new high-tech baby merchandise that morphs into various contraptions as the baby grows. And as useful as this sounds, I often wonder how the parents of today know when to ‘Snap ‘n Go’, ‘Sit n’ Stroll’, or simply ‘Mop n’ Glo’? What has happened to our babies, indeed!

Looking back: As I hauled my friend out of the grandbaby gap, it brought back a deluge of shopping memories of when I became a grandmother thirteen years ago. It all started in the same way…standing alone in the baby aisles, looking desperate and feeling overwhelmed. But in time, I adjusted and learned to let my daughter do the heavy lifting when it came to making complicated baby-product decisions.

You’ve come a long way baby: Thankfully, we’ve travelled some distance since the days of treacherous baby cribs and toys filled with lead. The better care and feeding of our babies should always be the driving force behind any change to the nursery set. And the new mothers and fathers of today have a plethora of choices to make and many new adventures to behold.

5 Things I learned:

1. Strollers are like hot rods: My first stroller simply strolled with a squeaky wheel or two. Today, babies travel in style in trail-blazing strollers that promise easy release hand-brakes, front and rear suspension, multi-position reclining seats and all terrain wheels. It’s an amazing sight to see how the simple stroller has evolved into a deluxe rock n’ roll system, with the features of a souped-up automobile!

2. Car seats kick butt: Good grief! We didn’t even have car seats! Today, there are forward facing seats and rear facing seats and seats that go by the pound. There are latch systems and universal anchorage systems and space-age cockpit turbo-design booster seats for big kids. And if you purchase the travel model with the handy removable seat, you can jump out of your car – pop the whole ‘kid-and-car-seat’ package right into a  stroller base thingy and jog around the block, while you talk mergers and acquisitions on your cell phone!

3. High chairs collect points: My daughter’s old wooden high chair was as tippy as a canoe! And the removable tray kept sliding out and crashing to the floor. In today’s world, high chair designs have miraculously evolved into 3-point restraining systems, 4-point reclining systems and 5-point height adjusting systems. And, like the car seat and stroller, it can transform into just about anything, if you have an engineering degree.

4. New mothers are brave: Gone are the cold clinical hospital deliveries we had on baby-D-day. Today young women have birthing centres and many employ the services of mid-wives and doulas to have a more natural experience. Even my lovely daughter, who has the pain threshold of a gnat and gets sedation to have her haircut – tried the au naturelle route of birthing at home. But that’s a story for another day when my daughter isn’t reading my blog posts.

5. New fathers are nuts: Back in the day, most fathers kept their distance from mothers and babies and played the role of  being useless very well. Today, new fathers are fully involved in baby routines – from birthing to burping and all things in between. But my son-in-law was a bit ‘two diapers short of a pail’ if you get my drift. Before leaving for groceries one day, he instructed me on how to help my daughter breast feed! My advice: never have a milky-nipple discussion with your son-in-law!

Toys on steroids: Did you know that some of the little-girl dolls of today can give birth, breastfeed and poop? Did you know that some little-boy dump trucks can break-dance in a flashing display of lights and music?  And don’t even get me started on the brand new just released “Hello Barbie” – an interactive doll with artificial intelligence that talks and works using your WIFI. Where is George Orwell when you need him? This is nothing short of just plain creepy!

Just imagine: Children might love these multi-tasking toys. But it raises the question of long term consequences on their ability to focus on a singe task – not to mention their ability to learn language. Most of these types of toys are designed to entertain and distract – rather than engage the child. The imagination is a powerful playmate. And if the toy does too much, the child does too little – and the imagination shrivels up and dies. A very sad death by starvation.

Finding the balance: We live in a complex world. And it’s wonderful to see the new products that keep baby safe, and the educational toys that help baby enjoy an enriched and comfortable environment. We can marvel at the new studies just out last week, that stated nearly every child under 4 years old uses electronic mobile devices to keep them busy. And while we may be grooming them to be masters of the universe, there’s also something to be said for the pure joys of simplicity.

Final word: So what has happened to our babies? Nothing. Babies aren’t any more complicated than they used to be. It’s this world we live in that’s become more complicated. And I believe it’s up to each one of us to bring back some small pleasure from our own childhood and introduce it to our children and grandchildren. You just never know what simple goodness you might find.

So don’t be in shock on becoming a Grand,
With new-fangled stuff that you don’t understand.
Despite all the gizmos, the gadgets, the gear,
Our babies are babies – the same every year.

 And may I remind you, in case you forgot,
The best toys are those that do diddly-squat!
And books are for reading and shouldn’t talk back.
Just stick with the program – you won’t go off-track.

See you between the lines and on Twitter @PatSkene

For The Love of Clowns!

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closeup_color_clown_vector_154422Okay, listen up! As I sit here propped up by my funny bone, I’m thinking about clowns. Oh get a grip all you wackadoodle clown-hating people out there. I’m talking about the good old-fashioned kind of clowns; the big footed Bo Bo’s that made us laugh before they morphed into twisted freak shows.

Good clowns: Some people feel a cold wetness, like a leaky grave, when they think of clowns. But when I think of clowns, I remember the Ringling Circus clowns in baggy britches doing walkabouts in the hippodrome between acts, and making me giggle until cream soda gushed out of my nose. I think of the endearing pantomimes of Red Skelton’s tramp clown, ‘Freddie the Freeloader,’ who made my whole family laugh and cry with his brilliant TV performances. And I think of rushing home from school to watch Clarabell the Clown cause all kinds of horn-honking mischief on the Howdy Doody Show. Yes, I’m that old and those were the clowns of my generation.

Bad clowns: Okay, so maybe these ‘Joeys’ do have a gruesome past. Centuries ago, clowns were crude and often gruesome entertainment for adults, not meant for children. And we did have a few bad seeds over the ages that gave Chuckles a twisted rep. Unfortunately, we seem to remember those more than the many who made us laugh.

Freaky clowns: Sadly clowns around the world have been victimized by the movie industry, producing clown-hating psychological horrors like Stephen King’s ‘Pennywise Dancing Clown’ in IT and the mind-rotting antics of ‘Twisty the Clown’ in American Horror Story. After seeing these violent graphic images, they become recorded in our brains, and remain in a constant state of replay, replay, replay…making it difficult for many to separate fact from fiction.

Clown sickness: We even have a name for this irrational fear of clowns…coulrophobia! And while clown-fear is spreading at an alarming rate, thankfully it is not recognized as an official disorder. (No, you cannot take sick time from work!)

Send in the clowns: Early in my lifetime, clowns clomped around in exaggerated shoes and made us laugh as masters of slapstick and pure silliness. And even today, bullfighter clowns are the brave souls who risk life and butt to save rodeo riders from being stomped to death, by some angry snot-snorting bovine with his balls in a twist! And really…is there anything funnier than a gazillion clowns tumbling out of a small car? C’mon Coulrophobics…loosen up and admit the humour in that one.

Bravo! In my view you’ve simply got to be a great person to dress up like a clown, hidden behind all that tomfoolery, and simply want to make people laugh…not kill, maim or drop from the bedroom ceiling in the dead of night to slice you into bloody bite-sized chunks…but simply make you laugh.

Final word: Harry S. Truman once said, “Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.”

But I’ll bet if a clown did it, it would crack you up and release you from the dark side.

Now don’t wait for a fresh turd to cross your path – come into the light and let a good old-fashioned clown make you snort cream soda out of your nose.

See you between the lines and on Twitter @PatSkene

 

I’m Thinking About Kissing…

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face-kiss-hiYikes! Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about kissing. Oh get a grip! It’s because of the recent kissing research released to the news media – not because I’m looking to recapture my youth with a few wild adventures of unabashed spit swapping. But then again, would that be so bad? Well, yes it just might be. According to what I read last week, every time you pucker up with a good old-fashioned smooch, you introduce 80 million new bacteria into your mouth. Now that’s a cringe-worthy thought.

Make it burn: I’m not saying that kissing is all bad. Good grief no! You get to burn 6.4 calories per minute by locking lips and you use 146 muscles when you do it. So that’s got to be a good daily exercise, filled with all sorts of perks. And what a great way to kiss, kiss, kiss your way into (and out of) your skinny jeans.  Some anonymous person once said that kissing is like peeing your pants. Everyone can see it but only you can feel the heat.

Learned or instinctual: So why do we do it? And does the whole world of humans feel this heat in their drawers when they inject saliva into each other’s mouths? Earlier research indicated that 90% of the world’s population engaged in the activity of kissing. But new research now finds that less than half of the world’s cultures kiss in a romantic way. And the rest of us that do, spend an average of 20,000 minutes or 2 weeks of our lives in mouth to mouth action.

Kissing cultures: Of 168 cultures studied, only 77 cultures did it and 91 did not. And of the 77 cultures who did, only 46 kiss in a romantic sense: North America 55%, Asia 73%, Europe 70% – and it was the norm in the Middle East although in private only, but no smoochers were found in Central America. We kiss for all kinds of reasons; comfort, passion, affection, bonding, making up, or just for no reason at all because it feels good. Lips and tongues are packed with nerve endings, so when those nerve endings intensify, we don’t want to think too hard about questioning our motives. Our brain functions drop into the lower extremities of our bodies…thus creating the aforementioned “peeing of the pants” scenario.

Why we do it: The most widely accepted rationale about why we kiss is that it helps us sniff out a quality mate. So let that be a lesson for the poor slobs who dare eat garlic on date night – for they shall be cast out and disqualified. There are people who actually study kissing – they are called philematologists. I wonder if they are really good kissers? Do they experiment with a wide range of kissing partners? Or are they simply professional peepers; watching others doing the job while they study technique, nose placement, measure spit output etc., while they take copious notes. Either way, it’s rather creepy.

Burning questions: And technique is everything ladies, we know that. We have all experienced the voracious kissers who make us question basic kissing etiquette. Like, what do we do when too much saliva enters your mouth when he locks onto your face like a large mouth bass? Is it polite to spit it out? Wipe your mouth on your sleeve, or his? Tell him you’re entering the convent and can’t ever see him again? According to the Rights of Kissing in the Modern Age Handbook, all of the above are totally acceptable responses.

Final word: So while it sounds kinda gross to pucker up and share your dinner juice with a potential mate, there is some reassuring research that says – all that new bacteria entering your system can help to boost your immune system. So let’s go with that. And so I leave you with a quote by the illusive Mr. or Ms. Anonymous:

I ran up the door, opened the stairs,
said my pyjamas and put on my prayers –          
turned off my bed, and tumbled my light,
and all because he kissed me good-night.

pride_rainbow_lips_kiss_decal

 

 

See you between the lines,

Follow me on Twitter @PatSkene

There’s Nothing Like a Dame

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“Never be afraid to laugh at yourself.  After all, you could be missing out on the joke of the century.” Dame Edna Everage. (81 years old)

Hello Possums! Sometimes there are moments in life you need to capture and swallow whole to keep them inside you. (Sometimes, there are moments you need to masticate into mush and spit out into the nearest spittoon.) Well, thankfully, I have one of the former moments – one of pure zen, that I want to tell you about.

Eureka! I was watching television with my 12 year-old granddaughter the other day, when an advertisement for gigastar, Dame Edna and her Farewell Tour flashed on the screen. There she was, her Edna-ship, complete with perfectly coiffed mauve hair, rhinestone-studded wingtip glasses and outlandish wardrobe. My granddaughter jumped out of her chair and said, “Nan! That’s totally you – on the inside!”

How awesome is that? For someone like me who values imagination, creativity and freedom of expression as my raison d’être, it was the highest compliment possible. My eyeballs were sweating tears of purple glee. What more could a grandmother want in life, than to know her granddaughter thinks she has a colourful, funny, nut-ball of a Dame Edna lurking on the inside?

Shake it up! As we get older, it’s easy to become crotchety and bad-tempered, as we deal with deteriorating bodies, death of spouses and old friends, and of course, lack of identity and loneliness. It becomes too easy to feel forgotten and left behind, as we see younger people around us enjoying a more robust lifestyle. And it’s natural to be afraid to step out of ourselves; outside of our comfort zones to try something new. Sometimes the only difference between a recliner and a grave is the view!

Inner Dame: In my opinion, we all need to channel our inner Dame Edna to shake us awake and make us feel alive. There’s nothing like boredom and complacency to cause wrinkles ladies…and for the men out there…Dame Edna is really Barry Humphries, so there’s a message in here for you too. And no, I don’t mean cross-dressing! Although, if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do…?

Outer Dame: So to celebrate this momentous gift given to me by my granddaughter, I bought some new face furniture – a pair of purple cat’s eye glasses, trimmed with pearl. So cool! But for now, I’ll keep my hair white and leave the “wisteria hue” to the Grand Dame!

See you between the lines,

Follow me on Twitter @PatSkene

Hear Ye, Hear Ye…

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thCalling all geezers and geezerettes!  

Come in from the dark side and learn what social media can do for you.

Well, if you’re reading this post, it means you have already seen the light and are proficient enough with technology to stay connected with the universe. So you might think this article is not for you…oh contraire!

I’m sure we all have a few senior friends with their heads buried in the days of old. They don’t know how to use email, don’t own a computer, smart phone or tablet. They don’t know what a blog is and frankly don’t give a blog about all this new fan-dangled stuff.  Well, it just might be time for a cyber-intervention.

I was recently contacted by a company in the US to answer some questions about how I felt re the importance of social media for seniors. And while I don’t endorse any commercial links on my site, I felt this topic was very near to the cockles of my blogger’s heart, so I chose to be a participant in the article.

As you know from my posts 50 Shades of MAC, i-Crazy, and i-Lied…I am fully committed to the wonders of technology; a converted cyber-geezerette if you will.

I know it’s very hard for some seniors to stay open to learning new things. Life always looks so much better in the rearview mirror. And although we will never be as proficient with technology as our children and grandchildren, as long as we have breath there’s always time left to believe we can continue to learn and improve our lives in some small way.

Even the grand Red Queen herself from Alice in Wonderland said, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast”…and she was no spring chicken!

Fear is our worst enemy and change is hard work. As we age, our world continues to shrink one year at a time…like a balloon losing air in slow motion. It’s no wonder that we white-knuckle our grip on the days of yore when we were bigger and stronger players on the planet.

So why not pay it forward and do what we can to open up the universe for other seniors in our lives? Talk, encourage, demonstrate, and teach what technology can do to add value to everyday living.

I’m just saying…

Please click below to read the full article on Social Media Tips for Seniors:

http://premierreverse.com/works-social-media-tips-seniors/

See you between the lines,

Pat Skene

Bully for me…and for you!

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(Portrait of a Bully)

Fob Ford, scaring the crap


 

Rant du jour: Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. Sadly they’re in our lives to stay, because there will always be damaged human beings and egos that need constant feeding on the entrails of a kinder gentler folk.

Big and bold; Some bullies are larger than life, like Toronto’s jackass mayor, Rob Ford (ROFO) and his dumb ass brother, Doug (DOFO.) You might get the idea that I don’t care for Toronto’s mayor…I tried hard to be subtle.

Vicious in black: Some bullies come in tiny packages, like Sister Alicia, the 4 foot 8″ nun in a black and white habit who tormented students daily in the girl’s school I attended a half a century ago. Bullies like this feast like gluttons on the intimidation and fear they create in our lives.

Unbridled ubiquity: During my life, I have met threatening and abusive doctors, nurses who ran their own domain of terror, Nazi receptionists, barking-mad grade school teachers, obnoxious waiters, engineers with explosive egos, pit-bull lawyers, alcoholic bosses, and on and on and on…you get the picture. Bullies come in a variety of disguises in all professions. Sadly, we meet them on a daily basis.

Badge of honour: After surviving decades as a female-executive in the male dominated war-zone of banking where testosterone saturates the boardroom, I developed a wonderful life-saving condition called BBS…or to the lay person, “Bully Block Syndrome.” This condition took years to develop and has now left me immune to the slings, arrows and emotional tactics of any bullies I now meet in my life. In short, they can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t fear them and as an added advantage of this condition, I can smell a bully at a hundred paces.

Dangerous liaisons: Bullies have different modus operandi. Most of us vividly remember the bullies who taunted us in the schoolyard with hard knuckle punches to the nose and even harder verbal punches to our feelings. But bullies aren’t always an overt threat, especially as they age. Young bullies often grow up to be professional bullies, where they work covertly in stealth mode and become even more cunning and more dangerous.

Bully spotting: Some bullies merely stand in a confrontational pose with fists clenched and a hard stare (like ROFO), daring anyone to challenge them. Others use their positions of influence to bark orders at underlings and leave no room for being questioned (like ROFO). Some intimidate and threaten their long-suffering wives into submission (like ROFO.) Many avoid sharing knowledge, in an effort to overpower and keep others dependent on them with a tight grip on their control, (ROFO has no knowledge of anything). Some take the coward’s route behind the anonymity of the computer through cyber-bullying, (ROFO doesn’t know what a computer is). And still others take every opportunity to treat you as a friend, while they secretly discredit you behind your back. (ROFO has no friends.)  These are all the acts of a despicable bully.

Prime targets: While children are thankfully being taught all about dealing with bullies in school…you know what? As a senior, we are just as vulnerable to bullying, because they… the grown-up professional bullies…think we won’t fight back. We’re much too weak , too stupid, too old.

Pushing back: Well they’re wrong! We all need to stand up, face them nose-to-nose and hold our ground.  And we can’t be shy about it. Call it what it is. We’ve lived long enough not to have to put up with that crap anymore.

Speak out: So the next time you snag a bully in your bully-radar, tell them exactly what you think of them! You’ve earned the right! And so have I. And as a final word…if you live in Toronto, for everything that’s holy…don’t even think of voting for another “FORD MORE” years of  that red-faced  buffoon below!

See you between the lines…Pat Skene



Rob Ford red face

Ford ford finger

It’s Spring Dammit!

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Rant Du Jour: Okay, I’m just as sick as the rest of you about this winter thing. And yes, I’m watching with my nose pressed    against the glass for even the slightest sign of spring. But today I made a big decision. Screw it! As far as I’m concerned, the calendar says it’s spring…so it’s spring!

Looking back: Some of it was fun while it lasted. I have to admit that watching marathon episodes of Breaking Bad, while chowing down on ice cream and cheesy nachos was a decadent winter indulgence. And furthermore, I enjoyed it guilt-free because of the raging blizzard outside. Nowhere to go, nothing to do and even if there was, can’t do it anyway in weather like this. It’s a beautiful thing.

Now what? So it’s time to put away the stew pots, the pizza pans, the bread maker and all things that scream comfort food. It’s time to get off to the grocery store and load up on fruits and vegetables before scurvy sets in. If you’ve already lost a tooth – I recommend an immediate infusion of lemon-gin and tonic.

Growing pains: And that leads me to our great Canadian winter waistlines! Our bodies are our biggest asset…but bigger doesn’t always mean better, even in these cold Canucky temps. Size does matter, regardless of what anyone tells you. We need to drop our tracky bottoms with those ever-expanding elastic waistbands, and slide into a pair of last summer’s pants to assess the damage. Reality sucks!

Mixed messages: Now if you’re like me and still have your Christmas arrangements outside…don’t even consider putting a few painted eggs in with the holiday ornaments to make nice with the Easter bunny. Throw them out! And do it this week or the evil winter witch will camp out at your door and invite all her witchy winter friends to party on. It’s still too cold to enjoy our beloved tulips and daffodils out there, so put them in the window to welcome the spring-angels of mercy. God help us all.

Get out! And finally – for all that’s holy – let’s get off our assets and walk in the fresh spring air, regardless of the temperature. And if you’ve still got snow, pretend it’s a beautiful white sandy beach. We’ve all closed our eyes and thought of England at some point in our lives. Well it’s time to exercise that skill again…we just need to change the thinking location to the Bahamas. All those butt-busting exercises we’ve been avoiding because…blah, blah, blah…are no longer valid. Time to shake and bake our booties!

So? It’s spring! Winter is over and that’s all there is to it! Now let’s get out there and enjoy it, dammit!

Pat Skene

See you between the lines.

 

 

 

Hanging Out With Mary

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Happy International Women’s Day: To celebrate this event, I attended a dinner this week where Canadian comedian Mary Walsh spoke to over 700 people…in a black bra! There was nothing sexy about it.

What’s this about? Mary is an entertainer of a certain age, who changed her costume in front of the audience, as part of her routine. She simply stood there in her underwear with all her jiggly bits jiggling, as she kept right on talking. It was a hysterically funny and incredibly beautiful thing.

Just hanging out! Now I don’t normally get excited about seeing an middle-aged woman in her underwear. But the sheer comfort and confidence Mary displayed, with her muffin tops muffin-topping, and her cellulite and wrinkles winking at the crowd…well, it was a vision of divine intervention. Especially for anyone in the room wearing Spanks, body shapers, control top pantyhose and all things that pinch and squeeze us into unholy togetherness.

Starving for attention: What a refreshing change she was from just a few nights before, when I watched the beautiful people of Hollywood parade their botoxed, surgically altered Oscar worthy bodies up and down the red carpet. The fact that many of them can no longer smile…or eat for that matter…doesn’t mean a thing. All that does matter is for someone to ask, “Who are you wearing?”

Mirror, mirror: Our obsession with perfect bodies is like a social piranha, eating away every day at our confidence and self-respect. Yes, the magazine and movie industries have nurtured this obsession, but so do we, as we continue to buy and watch and compare…in the mirror. And as we age, as Mary is doing, graceful acceptance of our sagging bits and bobs is a rare gift. We need to learn to embrace our softer squishier parts without wrestling them into a spandex torture chamber or underwire harness.

Key note: Now I’m not saying we shouldn’t strive to have as healthy a body as we can. That goes without saying. But if only we could be more like Mary…and let it all hang out with pride and humor. And while I enjoyed the entertainment value of Mary’s keynote address at the dinner, her confidence and charisma while standing there in her black bra and middle-aged body, said more to me about International Women’s Day than anything in her evening performance. It was downright liberating, even for a tough old broad like me.

Seriously: Mary made us laugh at her, with her and at ourselves. We need more women like that. And more real women who can stand in front of 700 people in a black bra ala muffin tops, and not give a damn. And as I am reminded by the sign on my desk, “She Who Laughs, Lasts.”

Pat Skene

See you between the lines.

Gold Finger Salute Awards!

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Hey, I don’t mean to be a brute,
With my new BOOMERRANTZ salute,
But Nominees had best beware,
Now read my blog-post if you dare…

Enough already! I can’t turn on the television these days, without bearing witness to yet another ubiquitous award celebration for the rich and famous. Night after night during the months of January and February, we’re seduced by the ornamental glitz of shameless egoism, showered on the synthetic world of the stage and screen elite.

Get real people! I think it’s time for ‘we the people’ to hand out some awards of our own. When we use our collective powers to select individuals for awards, perhaps more of us could maximize the potential of these impressive rituals of public display for a higher and greater good.

That’s it! Let’s use our people’s choice license to charter a new category of awards that would express opinions and experiences from our not-so-glitzy everyday real life; experiences that are not always pleasant and sometimes deserving of a Gold Finger Salute!

Fertile ground: These new awards could be used to acknowledge the weight of unwanted residue often left in our lives by people in our community, our government, professionals in any field – and yes, even the entertainment industry. Anything that puts rantz in our pantz is fair game.

Let’s get the ball rolling: Here are a few categories that I hope will generate some passionate nominations from the silent reservoir of thoughts and experiences, that pick-pick-pick away at us…everyday.

Categories open for my “Gold Finger Salute” Award nominations:

1. M.V.P Award– Best performance by a Medical Doctor who finds the ‘Most Vulnerable Patient’ and prescribes the largest number of pills in the shortest appointment time, without the distraction of actually listening to the patient or making eye contact.

2. GRUBBY FINGERS Award – The Corporate CEO with the dirtiest hands and the coldest heart who cooks the hottest books in the corporate kitchen, while leaving his hungry investors boiling with a bad taste in their bank accounts.

3. WINNING WARLOCK Award – The surviving Celebrity who melts down in millions of living rooms, while drinking tiger blood and proclaiming himself to be a wild thing – stronger than two and a half men.

4. GOTCHA Award– The most elusive and convincing General Contractor honed in the artful techniques of creeping scope, making the most money over contractual budget on any one renovation.

5. TRIPLE M Award– The Lawyer or Law Firm who can demonstrate the ‘Most Money Milked’ from any one client on any legal action, for the longest period of time, without ever actually bringing the case to a close.

6. JUMPING JELLYFISH Award – The cruise Ship Captain who manages to cause a shipwreck, jump into the first lifeboat to shore and abandon his 4,234 passengers. All the while singing his favourite rap song, “Imma Be Imma Be…a Rat From a Sinking Ship.”

7. MATING RITUAL Award– The Corporate Banker who can exhibit the deepest levels of profit-envy, during a courting dance with an equally greedy partner. The best dance and musical combos for this category include; the Quickstep for “Size Does Matter,” the Hustle for “Bank-Bail-Out Boogie” and the Cha Cha Cha for “Sub-Prime Fiasco”.

8. GRINCH’S CHOICE Award – A multiple award to all School Administrators who cancel Christmas concerts due to misguided apprehensions, and replace said performances with bland non-Christian events where nobody gives a damn.

9. BOTTOM FEEDER Award– The Television Reality Show with the most voracious appetite, exploiting the highest number of living organisms from the lowest point on the food chain for public display and humiliation.

10. GREAT PRIMA DONALD Award – The Celebrity Businessman who manages to Trump all his opponents, by building the highest number of skyscrapers, while exhibiting the lowest degree of humility – and simultaneously sporting the worst comb-over in America.

11. SOFT SHOE SHUFFLE Award – The Elected Official with the biggest smile who makes the most provocative empty promises for the longest period of time, while side-stepping controversy and dancing non-stop to that popular politician’s ditty called, ‘The Power, Perks and Pensions Polka.’

12. BARKENPOOP Award – A multiple award to all deserving Pet Owners who miraculously believe that a cacophony of barking canines is music to a neighbor’s ears, and that the muck left behind by their dogs and cats running amok on other people’s properties is a welcome bit of fertilizer.

13. NINCOMPOOP Award – Any trusting Traveller in a male or female role, who – while of sound mind – chooses a Mexican vacation destination and naively expects to return alive – or minimally – with their bowels intact.

14. A-Hole ROFO Award – The mayor of any major city who smokes the most crack and tells the most lies, while in and out of any number of drunken stupors, and drags his long suffering wife in front of the nation’s television sets, to witness his declaration of eating preferences.

15. A-Hole DOFO Award – To the loudest-mouthed male sibling of any mayor of a major city, who supports his crack-smoking idiot of a brother.

Final word: While this list is just a drop in that big bucket of tarnished gold fingers, our collective salute to deserving nominees in these selected categories could put a whole new polish on the all-powerful-award-granting rituals. I’m sure you will all have many very personal choices to add to this not-so-distinguished collection. Good luck with your nominations and may the biggest losers win!

Although my carpet isn’t red,
And my awards are in my head,
To Nominees I say, “Salute!”
But now I really have to scoot…

Pat Skene
See you between the lines…

Bridging the Gap

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time_capsule_2035 blog                                                           

 Calling all kids, teachers, parents and grandparents!                                                                                  

 What’s up? As you may know by now, I am a writer of children’s books by day and during the deep dark hours of my soul, I am a cranky boomer blogger by night. Okay, so that was a bit of unnecessary drama, but I want you to appreciate the alter egos I struggle with on a daily basis. My poor Hubsey never knows who he’s sleeping with from one computer paragraph to the next. And despite the schizophrenic nature of my two jobs, I manage to stay grounded by keeping all my bases covered in the age department….sort of like a ping-pong ball on steroids.

The gap: In an effort to avoid disaster by confusing my work, I generally keep things separated by a spongy wall, so I can bounce back and forth without hurting myself. But this is a unique project and an exceptional circumstance – so I want to bridge the gap between my two worlds to get you and your families involved. I’m very excited about this project!

Here’s the dealio: I grew up in a small town on Georgian Bay (circa 1950) without phones or electricity. My first school bus was a horse and buggy! For real!! And now I’m hooked on anything with an Apple on it. Could I have imagined the changes that would happen in my lifetime? Today in 2013, Canadians are signing up to go to the moon, cars are being developed that drive themselves, while fingerprint technology will soon replace our need for passwords. What could possibly be next?

Think about it: Do the kids in your life imagine our world of tomorrow? What will the year 2035 look like, in the fields of transportation, technology, fashion, space travel, entertainment, the environment, careers, schools and families…just to name a few? How will our children, the movers and shakers of tomorrow, shape the world they live in? I want to ask them and find out.

Call for Submissions by Press Here to Start Publishing

I would like to challenge the children of today, to imagine the year 2035 and tell us what they see. A collection of the best entries from kids of all ages will be published in an exciting new book entitled, Time Capsule – 2035.  

  • Open to all students in Canada, grades 1-8 on any topic
  • Includes essays, poems and stories to a max of 200 words
  • Original artwork optional
  • Teachers are encouraged to submit classroom entries
  • Can be submitted online or by snail mail
  • Final entry deadline, March 31, 2014
  • Click here for Time Capsule – 2035 Flyer

Final Word:

This project is exciting on so many levels. It encourages dialogue in schools and at home about the difficult subject of change. It tells us what our kids are thinking about. And it helps the children of today connect to their world of tomorrow. Plus the book itself will be an interesting Time Capsule to look back on in years to come.

Please help me to spread the word and get your kids and schools involved. You’ll be hearing more about this in the news.

Go to http://www.pressheretostartpublishing.com for details and check out the Hot Tips on how to get started. 

Pat Skene…see you between the lines.

time_capsule_2035 blog     

One Day Indeed!

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woman on swing

 “The nice thing about getting old, is you might become young again.”

                     Edwin Honig, American Poet and Playwright.

My rant du jour: Today is National Senior’s Day in Canada. It’s a nice gesture in a world where seniors are mightily ignored and largely    invisible to the masters of the universe. But there is a change brewing, as boomers come of age and take charge to voice their opinions.  This is a good thing.  So why do we need a “Senior’s Day” to be recognized as a valid part of society?

More please! I guess a few token hours out of one token day, is a nice polite gesture to celebrate our aging population and the contributions this generation has made to the country we live in. Do we really need a flag raising at City Hall to remember that seniors are an intricate part of the web of  everyday life? Could this day to focus on seniors be nothing more than a hypocritical salute to “old people” because of a lack of respect and understanding in all levels of society?  Why should we have one stinking day?  We don’t want “one day.” We want every day!

Senior immersion: Like it or not people, the world is flooded with seniors. I myself am surrounded by seniors because I am one of the gang.  Some of these cranky codgers and codgerettes walk the face of the earth in a constant state of angry birds.  Many more seniors tread softly with a quiet wisdom…like they’ve cracked the code of the Mona Lisa smile. I love this group. And I am honoured to listen to the stories seniors have to tell…the teachers, the lawyers, the nurses, the business leaders, the everyday people of yesterday, today and tomorrow…with all their successes and tragedies.

I digress: When I was a toddler, I was apparently fascinated by old men. I would crawl up on the knee of any old geezer I could find, much to my poor mother’s horror! I am happy to say, I no longer hold that fascination. But I still do like some old men, especially the old fashioned kind…like the gentleman who tips his hat, holds the door open for me, respects my opinion and treats me like a have a functioning brain.  Hubsey is an old man too, and I like him a lot because he never grew up. And I love to crawl up on his lap!

What’s old is new: So here I am, in the dawn of my twilight years, surrounded by a gaggle of gently used human beings. I live in a condo full of seniors, I sit next to them at the doctor’s office, my friends are getting more wrinkled everyday and my dentist is an old man.  Even my two younger sisters are getting long in the tooth. We used to giggle and talk about boys, fashion, careers, bringing up kids and planning vacations. Now we talk about old men, sciatica, knee replacements, grandkids and constipation. But we still manage a good giggle fest from time to time.

About old men: Have you ever noticed how the older generation of men in our lives clear their throats, like they’re constantly trying to get your attention? Or how they grunt when getting out of a chair to let you know they’re on the move, so you can get out of their way? Old men don’t talk a lot. But when they do, it’s mostly to tell you how it used to be, or complain about the government. And as any long-standing married woman, who’s had the same husband for a while will tell you, they’re very well trained and worth hanging on to.  Trading a used model in for a new one is out of the question for most old broads. Remember, your old man may come with some saggage, but a new old man comes with big baggage!

About old women: Here’s something about we older women…we worry about wrinkles and waistlines, instead of celebrating our cellulite and the wisdom of our years.  We worry about that whisker that popped out on our chin overnight, instead of taking comfort in the freedom that comes with getting older. We worry about our white hair and thinning locks, instead of enjoying that second cup of tea in the morning…happy that we no longer have to strap ourselves into a pair of pantyhose to go to work.  And we wear far too much beige and black…never enough electric blue and emerald green!

Warning: As everyone knows, when seniors are around, you must get rid of area mats because we’ll trip on them. Get rid of shoes at the door because we’ll trip on them. Get rid of toys on the floor because we’ll trip on them. Do we seniors never think to look down? Someone should invent a senior-sensor-sonar device to clip on our shoes, which would automatically make loud beeping noises like a truck backing up…and zap the floor of any debris as we pass. Is that brilliant or what?

Final word: Anyway, that’s all I have to say on the subject for today. Seniors are alive and well and we don’t need a special one day flag raising ceremony at City Hall to mark our existence.  We need every day to do that –  and it’s up to each one of us to shout it out and make every day count!

Pat Skene…see you between the lines.

senior_xing

Mickey’s Back in the Closet

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NewsUPDATE: As you know from my last post, I was having watch problems and resorted to wearing an old Mickey Mouse watch whilst I waited impatiently for the return of my awol timepiece from Birks.

Miraculously, the manager at Birks called me one hour after I posted the blog below. The fact that I notified their head office about the blog post may have played a small part in that call. However, the manager was most apologetic, promised that my watch was alive and well, and said my beloved Tag Heuer and I would be reunited within the week.   And, she added, the battery would be free and she wanted to offer me a $250 Birks gift certificate for my trouble. What?

So I’m happy to tell you that, as of yesterday at approximately 3:57pm,  my watch is back on my arm and Mickey is resting quietly back in the closet. He’s a bit traumatized from the rather jarring experience, but what can you expect from an 85 year-old mouse? I did expect more from Birks, a 134 year old jewellery company. But then again, they did redeem themselves very nicely.

Something to think about: Henry Birks, founder of Birks Jewellers died in April 1928. And in the very same year Mickey Mouse was born in November 1928. Coincidence? I think not!

All’s well that ends well.

Pat Skene…see you between the lines.

You Better Watch Out!

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watch

Greetings all – it’s been some time,
Since I ranted out a rhyme,                                          
But I am totally perplexed,
And don’t know what I should do next!            


Listen up! Do companies still give out golden watches with their golden handshakes at retirement parties? I sure hope not! It’s a sure-fire way to lead any unsuspecting senior down the path of financial ruin. Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating just a smidgen,  but I hope that got your attention.

Here’s my story:
Two months ago, I brought my Tag Heuer watch into Birks for a new battery. And here I sit, still without my watch! The repair department tells me that Tag suggests a complete maintenance overall every 3-5 years, at a cost of over $500 each time. What? And Birks tells me that all high-end watch companies have the same requirement! What? I’ve had the watch for 20 years and I’ve never been told this piece of disturbing news.   I declined and said I had the watch fully reconditioned 18 months ago due to a swimming accident (at a cost of $620), and now I simply wanted a new battery. They would not be happy, I was told, and the watch may not work. What?  It worked when I sent it in! It just needed a new battery to bring it back to life.

Then what happened?
Since then and many phone calls later, I am still watchless in Oakville.  The poor frazzled employee in Birks’ customer repair department tells me they will no longer use the supplier where they sent my watch because of a barrage of customer complaints. Plus the company doesn’t answer their phones! What? For all I know, my watch could be hanging from the inside lining of some trench coat in a dark alley by now. 

Caveat Emptor! 
Whatever happened to quality workmanship and well crafted watches that last forever? Or is that the crux of the issue? Perhaps these watches are so well made that watchmaking companies need a new stream of income to keep their customers hooked and coming back with their wallets open. Would anyone knowingly buy a watch that needed reconditioning every 3-5 years at a cost of $500 or more? Does that even make sense to the average watch-wearer of today? Or are these expensive watches so poorly made that they need constant attention to keep them going? Either way, the customer loses.

Even Mickey is stressed out:
Without my beloved Tag, I’ve resorted to wearing a Mickey Mouse watch Hubsey bought me over 30 years ago. Mickey tells me the time with his white-gloved hands, moving around the watch face like a demented traffic cop with substance abuse issues. The problem is, Mickey’s been stuffed in a closet for so long, outing him so abruptly has affected his performance. He doesn’t keep time very well, plus I need a magnifying glass to see the hand signals he’s giving me. So our renewed relationship isn’t working out.

Bottom Line: I simply want my watch back!  Guess I’ll give Birks another call. Any suggestions?

So that’s my tale, it’s sad but true,
Now what’s a blogger-girl to do?
Perhaps I’ll kick it up a notch,
Next time I swear I’ll buy a Swatch!

Pat Skene

See you between the lines.

50 Shades of MAC

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I’m in love with my MAC!

As you learned in my Apple A Day post, I succumbed to the geeky side and became an apple junky.

Now I don’t mean to get all Mac & cheesy on you – but after 3 weeks of pure bliss, I’m happy to report that right here in my rusty years, I have finally found the perfect relationship. apple_heart

Who is he? As you can guess, my new guy’s name is Mac. He’s handsome and sleek in his shiny silver suit – and I love his blue tooth. He lights up when I turn him on, and he loves it when I play with him in the dark. We make such beautiful music together. Hubsey doesn’t care much for him, but he likes to watch.

What else does he do? Mac loves to tickle my fancy and teach me new things…like 50 ways to use my magic mouse. He responds to even the slightest touch of my fingers on his sleek young body. At times he can be frustrating as hell for an old broad like me to deal with, but then he rewards me with a eureka moment of pure technological ecstasy.

He’s considerate and always asks for my preferences, although he’s  usually one step ahead of me and seems to know exactly what I want. He never complains unless he’s feeling low and needs some time to recharge his batteries. And he doesn’t much care that the kitchen has never been my best room.

There’s still a lot I don’t know about him, but that adds just enough mystery to keep our relationship apple-fresh. I’ve come to depend on him, and when he’s down, I feel lost. But when he’s charged up, he fills me with energy and spunk!

Trouble spots: He responds to most of my commands but like most men, he has a jerk gene that surfaces now and then, so I give him a good reboot to refresh his attitude. And at times, his head is somewhere in the i-clouds when I need him most – but he likes to dream and that’s okay with me.

He never asks for much and is comfortable in any setting. What a perfectly symbiotic relationship. He doesn’t bring me traditional flowers or buy me jewellery, but he sends me anything my heart desires  – in beautiful retina display! What a guy!

My MAC – he’s a Pro in my Book.                                  heart8

(P.S…My MAC is not to be confused with my friend Beth’s husband Mac. Although I’m sure he’s lovely too.)

Pat Skene

See you between the lines.

Once Upon a Word

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Double trouble: I’m sorry to subject you to the subject of the english language when you’re probably having a nice soft day. But sometimes I think the word-inventors were verbally insane or just plain lazy. Why else would we have so many words with the same spelling and totally different meanings? Was the project team simply lacking in brain cells or imagination?  Or did they become bored halfway through the job? Perhaps it was an early attempt at recycling to save endangered letters?

To better explain what I’m on about, there is no time like the present to present you with my story-present. Happy reading!

Book with stars

The Sewer in the Sewer

Once upon a time, there was a Polish seamstress who liked to polish her husband’s boots. She was a lovely little woman who would shed a tear every time she saw a tear in her man’s work clothes, hanging in the shed. Wasting no time, she would always repair to her sewing room to repair the damage. The little sewer also liked to grow vegetables and could produce lots of produce for her family. But she drew the line at taking out the refuse and would refuse to carry out the garbage. And try as she might, she could never teach the sow to sow. But that’s a story for another day.

Now despite her protests, every garbage day her husband would take her by the hand and lead her to the garbage, then tell her to get the lead out as he went off to work.  And by the way, he also resented the fact that she didn’t know how to row a boat and she wouldn’t let him teach her. But again I digress, as that that has nothing to do with my story.

Anyway, one day as she was hauling the bags to the curb, a dove suddenly dove into her hair. She screamed and ran into the street, and the poor little sewer fell into the open sewer. She tried to pull herself out using her scarf, but the wind was too strong in the tunnel and she couldn’t hold the scarf steady enough to wind it around the pipes.  Then suddenly in the street above her, she heard an invalid arguing with a policeman about an invalid parking spot. She screamed for help and thankfully, they were close enough to rescue her and close the sewer cap.

While all this was happening, her husband was doing some construction work  at the Hot Sands Resort when his cell phone rang. Upon hearing his wife’s distress, he instantly made the decision to desert his job in the desert and rush to his little sewer’s side. He was upset to see that she had hurt her arm in the fall, so he lovingly wound a bandage around the wound.

From that day on, never again did he object to her objections about taking out the garbage, as this had become the object of her near demise. And he would intimate to his closest friends how intimate they had become after this incident.  Oh yes – and never again did they row about him teaching her how to row a boat either.

And so they lived happily ever after.  Cute Star

The End

Pat Skene

See you between the lines.