Betty White said a game show like Password wouldn’t make it on TV today because contestants can’t think on their feet anymore. I agree. I’d like to think that I’m getting smarter every year but I would hazard to guess that the Jeopardy questions are less difficult than they used to be. At one time, I would see a show like Cops or America’s Funniest Home Videos, and fear for our future. But now, there is a whole culture of stupid out there. And they’re proud of it, not to mention, well paid. An article in UTNE Reader (Jan.-Feb. 2011), first published in The Humanist, reads, “The belief culture thrives on the false principal that all opinions are equal, even those without a shred of factual data, documentation, or reasoned methodology.” And Homer Simpson said it even better, “Facts are meaningless. You can use facts to prove anything that’s even remotely true.”
This dumbing down of society has brought our below-average members to the surface—of my TV. We are drowning in media personalities who are obnoxious, selfish, fake, and ignorant. From my point-of-view, sitting in front of my television, attractive people are happy, young people are sex fiends, old people need copious amounts of prescription medication, I know more than certain politicians (scary thought), and all your problems can be solved with a prayer and a small donation. We are being deluded into thinking extremeness is normal. Thank goodness for programs like The Daily Show with Jon Stewart to let me know that I’m not the only one looking for a little sanity, a wider perspective, and a good laugh.
Looking around, it appears the cream of the crop who are currently on topic, and worth listening to, are those with a constant Twitter feed, getting updates of their acquaintances on Facebook, while streaming the latest YouTube sensation. I'm all for the internet bringing us closer together and propelling the world forward, but not at the expense of drowning out more important topics. And you are out of touch with the real world if you’re not connected 24 hours a day, knowing what everyone around you is doing every second, feeding an addiction to the daily minutiae of our existence.
As you may have surmised, I’m not a texter, therefore I am not on the same wave length as someone trying to communicate with their thumbs in as little time as possible; I’m on the side of people worried about the demise of proper punctuation (I can hear the moaning through the computer screen). It’s true, I’m old fashioned, and this method may seem obsolete but it works for me: apart from writing and reading—and I’m not referring to anything penned by authors named Snooki—I use face-to-face communication to feel connected to the world around me.
Admittedly, I usually have my nose stuck in a book at my kids’ practices, but when I do venture into a conversation, I find myself relating to real people. I do have a terrible habit of being so nervous when I talk to someone that I babble on, my inner-voice screaming at me to shut-up, but still I make an attempt because it makes me feel refreshed and energized. As Ms. White reminds us, being able to come up with a coherent thought at a moment’s notice is challenging; it’s a skill that needs to be honed: greeting someone you cross paths with on the sidewalk, speaking up at public meetings, asking questions of a stranger, small talk at a party. Mind you, there are some conversations going on around me that I would rather not be privy to: the gossip and intimate information you overhear people say—even though you, a stranger, are only two seats away—makes me cringe. I must remember, though, that these people are just like me, trying to make a personal connection, only in a less discreet manner.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
World's Best Pet
Being nature lovers, we are fortunate to have a backyard that entertains us with an array of creatures. Throughout the year, we watched a mother deer and her twin fawns travel, and eat, their way across our yard, dazzling us from their first spring days on feeble legs, to their effortless jumps over shrubs, fences and our little creek, throughout the summer and fall. Several times a week, our lawn would be graced with their presence, a moment that never lost its thrill.
Many other animals visit or live near our home, located on a forested watershed: weasels, foxes, owls, cranes, groundhogs, opossums, muskrats, rabbits, moles, hawks, chipmunks, and squirrels.
Highlights of our animal encounters include sitting on our steps watching a brood of baby raccoons cross our path, until their mother joined the group and we quickly rid ourselves. Each summer, the mother ducks will often let us get close enough to count the ducklings. Not long after we moved in, we found a gigantic walking stick bug on our deck, and last summer, my daughter noticed a walking stick no bigger than a fingernail. On our butterfly weed plants, three cycles of caterpillars transformed themselves into monarch butterflies, and we wake up to discover elaborate webs strung across our gardens overnight, catching the sun in the dew drops. We marvel at the colour and song of dozens of varieties of birds, including the real Woody Woodpecker, a pileated woodpecker, a prehistoric-looking bird larger than a crow. All this, on just under one acre of land in the middle of our town.
In the summer, there’s another animal you will find in this outdoor menagerie: a bearded dragon.
Riddick, our 3 year old orange bearded dragon, has back legs like a frog, spikes like a dinosaur, and patterned scales like a snake without its slickness. He’s not cuddly, but he is fascinating.
Although his first few weeks in our home were touch and go, he pulled through and has been roaming around with us every since. Literally. He has a terrarium to keep him warm and safe during the night, but his mornings start under a heat lamp on our main floor. From there, he is free to wander; however, you can usually find him sitting near the sidelight windows of the front door catching the early morning sun on his back. In the late afternoon, he will be pacing in front of the sixteen foot sliding glass doors on the opposite side of the house trying to figure out how to get onto the sunny deck.
The lifestyle of a bearded dragon is easily incorporated into a family life. He ate crickets when he first joined us but it was apparent that he abhorred having insects crawl on him, even though he got the ultimate revenge in the end, so now he sustains himself on superworms and bok choy with an occasional strawberry treat. We can leave him in his terrarium when we are away from home, and in an emergency, he could probably be left without food for days at a time; being a resilient and instinctive creature. We don’t worry about him scratching our furniture or biting the neighbours, and apart from the occasional shedding of scales, he doesn’t need to be groomed.
As mentioned, his favourite place to bask in summer is on a knarly branch perched on our lawn, close to the house, where we watch over him. He does scamper but his self-defense mechanism for avoiding danger is to stay still, which he does very well.
The most unusual part of living with our bearded dragon is the brumation period, similar to hibernation. Our baby bearded dragon had been with us only six months when he stopped eating and withdrew into the cold, dark edges of his terrarium. I nursed him through with organic baby food, fed through an eye-dropper, every other day. As a cold-blooded animal, he needed to be warmed up first, then I would give him a lukewarm bath to clean the food off his face. I was a mess when I thought he was going to die a week after we brought him home—I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
One day, four months after it began, I went to check on him, and he was basking under his heat lamp as if nothing was wrong. When this whole process repeated itself the following year, after I had read extensively about this behaviour, I was much less concerned and let him get his rest. He finished his most recent brumation last December, just in time to enjoy climbing our Christmas tree.
Keep your cats and dogs; I take pleasure in the carefree animals of our backyard, and would rather have a lizard living in my house than any other pet.
Many other animals visit or live near our home, located on a forested watershed: weasels, foxes, owls, cranes, groundhogs, opossums, muskrats, rabbits, moles, hawks, chipmunks, and squirrels.
Highlights of our animal encounters include sitting on our steps watching a brood of baby raccoons cross our path, until their mother joined the group and we quickly rid ourselves. Each summer, the mother ducks will often let us get close enough to count the ducklings. Not long after we moved in, we found a gigantic walking stick bug on our deck, and last summer, my daughter noticed a walking stick no bigger than a fingernail. On our butterfly weed plants, three cycles of caterpillars transformed themselves into monarch butterflies, and we wake up to discover elaborate webs strung across our gardens overnight, catching the sun in the dew drops. We marvel at the colour and song of dozens of varieties of birds, including the real Woody Woodpecker, a pileated woodpecker, a prehistoric-looking bird larger than a crow. All this, on just under one acre of land in the middle of our town.
In the summer, there’s another animal you will find in this outdoor menagerie: a bearded dragon.
Riddick, our 3 year old orange bearded dragon, has back legs like a frog, spikes like a dinosaur, and patterned scales like a snake without its slickness. He’s not cuddly, but he is fascinating.
Although his first few weeks in our home were touch and go, he pulled through and has been roaming around with us every since. Literally. He has a terrarium to keep him warm and safe during the night, but his mornings start under a heat lamp on our main floor. From there, he is free to wander; however, you can usually find him sitting near the sidelight windows of the front door catching the early morning sun on his back. In the late afternoon, he will be pacing in front of the sixteen foot sliding glass doors on the opposite side of the house trying to figure out how to get onto the sunny deck.
The lifestyle of a bearded dragon is easily incorporated into a family life. He ate crickets when he first joined us but it was apparent that he abhorred having insects crawl on him, even though he got the ultimate revenge in the end, so now he sustains himself on superworms and bok choy with an occasional strawberry treat. We can leave him in his terrarium when we are away from home, and in an emergency, he could probably be left without food for days at a time; being a resilient and instinctive creature. We don’t worry about him scratching our furniture or biting the neighbours, and apart from the occasional shedding of scales, he doesn’t need to be groomed.
As mentioned, his favourite place to bask in summer is on a knarly branch perched on our lawn, close to the house, where we watch over him. He does scamper but his self-defense mechanism for avoiding danger is to stay still, which he does very well.
The most unusual part of living with our bearded dragon is the brumation period, similar to hibernation. Our baby bearded dragon had been with us only six months when he stopped eating and withdrew into the cold, dark edges of his terrarium. I nursed him through with organic baby food, fed through an eye-dropper, every other day. As a cold-blooded animal, he needed to be warmed up first, then I would give him a lukewarm bath to clean the food off his face. I was a mess when I thought he was going to die a week after we brought him home—I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
One day, four months after it began, I went to check on him, and he was basking under his heat lamp as if nothing was wrong. When this whole process repeated itself the following year, after I had read extensively about this behaviour, I was much less concerned and let him get his rest. He finished his most recent brumation last December, just in time to enjoy climbing our Christmas tree.
Keep your cats and dogs; I take pleasure in the carefree animals of our backyard, and would rather have a lizard living in my house than any other pet.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
You Can't Take It With You
A big wicker basket sits in our front closet to hold the things we no longer use or have grown out of that will, eventually, be donated to the second-hand store. Stuff accumulates in the basket each time we clean out closets or toy bins, often in a covert manner to avoid detection by family members who see what I'm trying to get rid of and can't part with the newly rediscovered prized possession. After six months, items we haven't given another thought about depart to find new life in someone else's home; however, what always puzzles me when I see the basket get filled up is...where has it all come from?
We try to live a clutter-free life and we could not be accused of having shopaholic tendencies, yet I balance our books each month with the receipts we have gathered and wonder how our family of four has managed to spend so much money. I loathe throw-away packaging, having to pay full-price, and low-quality products, therefore, I am acutely aware of what comes into our house and still we buy and buy.
I'm not the only one questioning the value of ubiquitous consumption; there's a resurgence in homemade gift-giving, repurposing vintage furniture and materials, and learning how to sew, knit, and cook. I don't believe we will covet antiques of the future which originated in the big box stores, and while re-gifting is better than dust collecting, I mourn for all the resources that went into making our unnecessary possessions.
Techniques that have worked for me to steer clear of bad purchases:
1. Think about it for 24 hours. Chances are I will walk out of that store and not come back the next day to buy the thing I didn't need in the first place.
2. Be creative. When I delay my purchase, I often find something I already own that will fit the bill, so to speak.
3. Do the research. When I know what my choices are, I am always more satisfied with my purchase and I can take advantage of limited time offers without experiencing buyer's remorse. Amortized over many years, that large-ticket item becomes a bargain.
There are a couple of purchases we've made that I'm proud to say give me a good shopping high. We entertain ourselves by perusing the ads on Kijiji, looking at sellers trying to unload their junk at crazy high prices, or the ones who bother selling at all for items with a $1 price tag (Please note: if that is you, find your nearest shelter and run, don't walk, to donate it all.). I'm tempted to comment on ads to tell people their stuff is not unique, it's hideous, and it's not antique, it's obsolete; or for the people who post a new ad every day for the same thing and clog up the system, I want to say: your stuff isn't any more desirable today than it was yesterday. We have found a few needles in the haystack including a metal desk for our son, a bargain at twenty-five bucks, a large cedar chest for $50, and an antique chalkboard for $65. From a local used furniture store, we unearthed a $15 solid wood bedside table that, with a $10 can of creamy-white paint, was transformed into a shabby chic piece my daughter can take with her someday because it's built to last. My favourite buy has been a large old pendant light shaped like a pineapple with cut glass to mimic the texture of the fruit that reflects a beautiful pattern on the stairwell walls. There's probably no one on my block, or in my whole town, that has a light like that.
Despite what we've been told, every season or holiday does not call for a brand new wardrobe or decorating scheme. Timeless quality should be our new buzz words. When my daughter asked me why we use the same Christmas decorations every year, I said, "It's called tradition." Everything we own does not have to be trendy, or even unworn. You have only to watch a kid outgrow their clothes in one season to appreciate hand-me-downs. And having a small piece of family history like my great-grandmother's dresser and nightstand or my grandmother's pewter lamp, give me joy that a new piece can't provide.
Our wicker basket was recently purged of old clothes, a set of lamps, and a black dress suit that my son tried to squeeze into with no luck, and now it sits empty, waiting. Over the holiday season, I hope we've learned our lesson and it remains empty because we will want to cherish our gifts, or at least put them to good use. Hint: A poem dedicated to your loving mother would be a perfect gift idea.
We try to live a clutter-free life and we could not be accused of having shopaholic tendencies, yet I balance our books each month with the receipts we have gathered and wonder how our family of four has managed to spend so much money. I loathe throw-away packaging, having to pay full-price, and low-quality products, therefore, I am acutely aware of what comes into our house and still we buy and buy.
I'm not the only one questioning the value of ubiquitous consumption; there's a resurgence in homemade gift-giving, repurposing vintage furniture and materials, and learning how to sew, knit, and cook. I don't believe we will covet antiques of the future which originated in the big box stores, and while re-gifting is better than dust collecting, I mourn for all the resources that went into making our unnecessary possessions.
Techniques that have worked for me to steer clear of bad purchases:
1. Think about it for 24 hours. Chances are I will walk out of that store and not come back the next day to buy the thing I didn't need in the first place.
2. Be creative. When I delay my purchase, I often find something I already own that will fit the bill, so to speak.
3. Do the research. When I know what my choices are, I am always more satisfied with my purchase and I can take advantage of limited time offers without experiencing buyer's remorse. Amortized over many years, that large-ticket item becomes a bargain.
There are a couple of purchases we've made that I'm proud to say give me a good shopping high. We entertain ourselves by perusing the ads on Kijiji, looking at sellers trying to unload their junk at crazy high prices, or the ones who bother selling at all for items with a $1 price tag (Please note: if that is you, find your nearest shelter and run, don't walk, to donate it all.). I'm tempted to comment on ads to tell people their stuff is not unique, it's hideous, and it's not antique, it's obsolete; or for the people who post a new ad every day for the same thing and clog up the system, I want to say: your stuff isn't any more desirable today than it was yesterday. We have found a few needles in the haystack including a metal desk for our son, a bargain at twenty-five bucks, a large cedar chest for $50, and an antique chalkboard for $65. From a local used furniture store, we unearthed a $15 solid wood bedside table that, with a $10 can of creamy-white paint, was transformed into a shabby chic piece my daughter can take with her someday because it's built to last. My favourite buy has been a large old pendant light shaped like a pineapple with cut glass to mimic the texture of the fruit that reflects a beautiful pattern on the stairwell walls. There's probably no one on my block, or in my whole town, that has a light like that.
Despite what we've been told, every season or holiday does not call for a brand new wardrobe or decorating scheme. Timeless quality should be our new buzz words. When my daughter asked me why we use the same Christmas decorations every year, I said, "It's called tradition." Everything we own does not have to be trendy, or even unworn. You have only to watch a kid outgrow their clothes in one season to appreciate hand-me-downs. And having a small piece of family history like my great-grandmother's dresser and nightstand or my grandmother's pewter lamp, give me joy that a new piece can't provide.
Our wicker basket was recently purged of old clothes, a set of lamps, and a black dress suit that my son tried to squeeze into with no luck, and now it sits empty, waiting. Over the holiday season, I hope we've learned our lesson and it remains empty because we will want to cherish our gifts, or at least put them to good use. Hint: A poem dedicated to your loving mother would be a perfect gift idea.
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