Grammar is not a relative!

The correct usage of the English language does not seem to occupy much of the average high school student's time.  There are people with multiple degrees from accredited Universities that do not have a sniff about grammar, and don't give a Tinker's damn that they don't.  With the computer/cell phone age almost everyone is familiar with LOL and BTW and OMG and maybe even LDMDA (Lori Dawn Marie Deschene Allard - inside joke - don't even try).  So, I have decided to use my blog for good, not evil, and make a couple of points in favour of proper usage of the English Language.

Recently a document hit my desk, from a higher up in Regina (pick any person in Regina, they are higher up than me), which had this rather cryptic note on a post-it stuck on the front page.  "File in Fort QuAppelle".  File in Fort QuAppelle - what???  Where???  Why??? Into which of the roughly 40 file cabinets representing 10 different disciplines of health care and about 2 levels of administration would this document go?  And these are just loose pieces of paper clipped together, shouldn't they at least be given the dignity of a freakin' file folder???!!.  And then, slowly, one synapse after another, the brain cells began to ignite with realization.  File, in this case was not a VERB, but rather, it was a NOUN.  What this rather terse little note meant was that There is a file in Fort QuAppelle in which this document belongs.  Now I still had to question about 15 people before I located said file, and added the documents to it, but once I understood what the note meant, I was much further along in completing the task assigned.  Anyone who reads this blog knows that I am not succinct and no fan of brevity so there was no way this higher up could win with me, but really, just a little more information and I would have grasped the meaning so much sooner.  You don't just toss out a noun without a definite article or two to go with it!  A complete sentence would have been much better.

I think that there are a few people old enough to remember the days when TEXT was a noun.  It could be an adjective, as in Text book, for example, but for the most part, text was a noun pure and simple.  Now, of course, it is rarely used as a noun.  I will text you.  I am texting. In fact, I can think of no other time when the word text is used as a noun except when it refers to the result of the action of texting, as in did you get my text?   So this has become the widely accepted use of the word, and I am not starting a campaign to complain about it or anything like that.  But I do have a question, to which I would love an answer.  If one does this action in the past has one texted someone?  As LDMDA would say, "this can go on the pile of things that make you go hmmmm????"

/bye

The Grey Cup...

is why I love Curling!  How upsetting, how disappointing, how obscenity awful.   I would suspect those who know Football better would venture to say that the team was, shall we say, somewhat lackluster in the second half.  It was Calvillo's game today.  Really wish Fantuz hadn't been offside.  That was a momentum buster if ever there was one.  Okay, I am over it.  Football is behind us and Curling is not far off.  This year, I hope, will be Pat Simmons year.  He is really good, just needs "momentum". 

This weekend was a Ski Pre Course for Murray in Calgary, at Olympic Park.  I went with him, as his attendant.  Now, I do not want anyone to think I volunteered for this. Nope, no way.  This was my quiet weekend all by myself.  I even made Holly and Cory find a different babysitter for Friday.  I signed up for a Saturday water colour class with all of my card making friends, right here in town.  It was going to be wonderful.  Three whole days of the remote for the big screen in my absolute control. But, as luck would have it, the other ski person who was signed up to go couldn't make it at the last minute and I was pressed into service. 

I washed his clothes, arranged for the reduced attendant fare, packed clothes, found goggles and hat and boot bag and ski bag.  Ripped to Regina to have his skis tuned up.  Packed boots and skis in appropriate bags.  Arranged for a much needed oil change on the van.  Found the plug in for the block heater on said van, and an extension cord.   Printed out the e-tickets and presented them to the airline, with appropriate picture id for both of us, at the appointed hour.  Buckled him into his seat, gave him  my i-pod headset so he could watch TV.  And I think you are seeing a trend and I need not go on.  Do I want reward/recognition for any of this? (Damn right)  Do I want to be declared a hero with a hero's welcome with a brass band and streamers and confetti? (A small band would be nice)  Not really.  I just want to shop at the Market Mall in Calgary.  But...I was too damn chicken to drive!! I hate myself.  We had the go ahead from SaskSki to rent a car on their dime, but I was too nervous to drive!! I drive all the time.  I drive everywhere.  I drive and drive and drive.  But...didn't do it in Calgary.  It was raining when we arrived, and getting icy.  It was rush hour when we got there.  The guy driving the Shuttle Bus was a cursing wreck by the time we got to the Hotel.  I, sob, caved!!

So I sat at COP, listening to a book on my i-pod and crocheting.  Actually, it really wasn't that bad.  The group of CADS instructors are really very nice, friendly, fun people to hang out with.  And I know that come tomorrow morning at breakfast, I will miss Roezell (the best waitress EVER).

The truly bitter end to the weekend is this. When we went out for Supper at Nottingham's Pub on Saturday night, one of the people from the BC CADS group gave us a ride.  His wife had spent the day shopping.  She was really sorry we hadn't connected sooner, because she would have loved to have taken me along. 

Oh and, I am as big a sport about the States and their stupid Thanksgiving in November as anyone, but really TWO weeks without Desperate Housewives???!! 

/bye

Waxing Philosophical

Today is my last painting class and I have some homework to do.  We are doing a project involving shading.  Shading is very important, it is critical, it is the pivotal point of a painting.  And I suck at it.  I am working away at my painting, hating it more and more. The thought of ripping up and starting over becoming more and more appealing.  I decided to take a break, have a coffee, play a game of spider solitaire and let the mess dry a bit.  When I went back to look it over, I was amazed at how much it had improved since I left it 15 minutes ago.  Also, standing back from it, it looks a lot better than when I am close up and actually smearing paint on it.  The thought occurs to me that this is a lot of what life is all about.  The distance of time smooths out so many rough brushstrokes.  In the heat of the moment many things I have wanted to "rip up and start over".  Patience and persistence have generally made things work out. (Although this is also a lot like being too stupid to know when to quit!). 

Anyway, that is my great insight into life for today.  I will now patiently and persistently apply yet another coat to the areas that need to be shaded darker.  It is ironic that the colour I am using is named Payne's Grey.

/bye

Canadian customs

I am so glad that I live in this country, and in this part of the country.  There is no war, no hurricanes, no earthquakes.  And even on a day like today, when it is stormy and windy and cold, I can look out my window and see the town crew picking up my garbage.  In many countries people live IN the garbage we toss away - as it is the good stuff for them.  Canada is great.

One custom that is prevalent at this time of year, but I doubt is limited to Canadians only, is when driving down a road and the person in the passenger seat starts yelling "deer, Deer, DEER!!!" and the driver immediately stamps on the brake and cranks the steering wheel toward the opposite ditch cursing violently.  If you hit the deer, misery!  If you miss, then the rest of the trip is spent recounting various deer experiences no matter if the trip is one km or 1000. 

Murray has had a few deer experiences.  He has claimed that he doesn't hit them, they run into him.  Our most recent encounter has me believing him.  It was that twilight time of night, when it is too dark to see far, but too light for the headlights to be very bright.  The above mentioned custom occurred, and Murray did crank the wheel AWAY from the deer.  But the deer kept turning INTO the van.  The more he tried to turn away, the more the stupid deer turned toward us.  Eventually the van came to a halt and the deer sped away, we were lucky this time.  Which is good.  Our 2002 van has over 185,000 km on it, it has a few dents and scrapes, paint peels and rust is emerging in several places, the tires are bald, the shocks need replacing, and there is a rattle in the back which is likely a broken strut.  If we so much as break a headlight SGI will write it off.  They'd probably charge us to tow it away.  But it is worth a million dollars to us.  And, we still have it, relatively intact.  It gets me where I am going which all that I look for in transportation.

/bye

I'm baaack.

Due to the overwhelming support of my followers – all three of you – I am back again. Actually, I was never going to quit – you should all be so lucky – I just get kind of busy some days.

On Sunday we went to the Ituna Fall Supper with our friends, Bonnie and Wade. There is something very life affirming about the Ituna Fall Supper. I come away feeling that the world is a good place, and the people in it are very nice indeed. One of the things I like about them is that they use the word “not” as an expression of the positive. “Its a nice day, not?” Unlike the rest of the world which uses “NOT” to emphasize the negative. “I love wind and rain. NOT!” The people beyond the perogie belt are sensible, hardworking folk and they do know how to put on a spread.

It is quite an experience to go to the Ituna Fall Supper, especially the Greek Orthodox Fall Supper (The RC Fall Supper is usually the previous week – quite event also as I understand). The supper starts at 4:30, and we arrived around 5:10. We were just about the last ones in the hall. As we walked in, the lady at the front desk makes no bones about staring at us and wondering who the heck we are, as we pay our cash and get our dinner tickets.

Once past the desk, a man wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me firmly into the centre of the hall, and points out that Mr. So and So-ski will seat us. Mr. So and So-ski races to my side and guides me to the end of the hall, my friends following behind like ducklings, and points to 4 chairs “You sit by that lady in the red sweater there” he instructs and races off. We stake out our chairs and spots at the table with jackets and ball caps and head back to the food line.

Before we can get too far we are stopped by two little guys about 10 years old. Do we want to buy Alter Server raffle tickets? Do we have a choice, when said alter servers are standing right there with their great big eyes? “I only have a loonie” I say. “Good, that’s just what they cost” the tall one says as the shorter one swipes the coin out of my hand and hands me a piece of paper to write my name on. You can win some great prizes at the Alter Server raffle. Like huge ceramic Cats, and salad spinners. We make our way to the buffet.

Long tables buckle under the weight of massive amounts of food. There are salads of every kind, Greek, Caesar, tossed, rice, macaroni, potato – and not a single jello was sacrificed to make any of them. Pickles dishes litter every spare spot with all variety of HOME MADE pickles. There are two kinds of cabbage rolls, fresh buns, roast beef, mashed potatoes and real gravy, carrots – the huge kind that come right from somebody's garden at the end of the season – and perogies with sour cream and onions swimming in butter to put over them. And none of this is “lite” or “low fat”. I can fairly hear my arteries thudding shut as we troop back to our table.

We have done a lot of traveling with Bonnie and Wade and the four of us know when it is time to visit and when it is time to shut up and eat. We tie into our platters of food.

I am sitting beside the lady in the red sweater and as she watches us closely, she leans over and asks “What happened to your husband's hand?” She can see his hook, and the sparks that fly as he digs into his food and forks it into his mouth. Between bites of Greek Salad I mumble “lost 'em in a farm accident”. “Oh jeesh” she says “there is so much of that. I think there was some guy from Lebret or somewhere that lost both of his”. “hmm, yeah this is him” I respond absently as I focus on getting gravy on all sides of my fork full of mashed potatoes. “This is HIM? Jeesh. Well that is just cruel. At least if he had one arm, you know...” Okay, so she wants a conversation I know it, but I have a mouth full of perogie that is soaked in thick sour cream and covered in butter and onions and I am in a near orgasmic state and all I can do is just nod my head. Please red sweater, just talk with your friends for a little while, until I am done eating.

 Bonnie is nothing if not intuitive and she says “oh yeah, Murray is the one and only. He does so well” and I use that opportunity to take another bite and drift into a epicurean euphoria. “That was a long time ago” red sweater says. But she just isn't saying so. She is asking. Please dear lady, there is a cabbage roll waiting for my undivided attention... but I croak out “1975” with my mouth full. “Oh my God, that is 35 years ago” she blurts out loudly. Uh huh, that’s what I figure anyway. “Oh that is a long time ago. I KNOW it” We are kind of aware also. “I was young then, and now I am OLD”. So, now I have to swallow and laugh. Now that she has my attention, she turns away to talk to her friends. She is done with me. I finish my meal in blissful silence. Shoot. Now I am too full to eat all of my wonderful fresh HOMEMADE bun. Damn.

/bye

Things can only get better, right?

This week has been a bad one.  Got to work on Monday, and my computer was still down.  Down since Tuesday the week before.  I do 7.5 hours of work on that computer every day I am there and Lori does the same.  What the obscenity, I said, not maintaining my cool at all.  I called IT, who are, for the most part, people younger than my cookie sheet.  I ripped off heads and spit down the holes and got some action.  Not immediate action - took them till 10:00 to get out from Regina with a new monitor and hook it up. But pretty close to immediate action.  And another happy spin off is that they are quite scared of me now.  The bad thing is that the whole office is now getting me to call IT as I get pretty close to immediate action.

The week wound up with two generations of dysfunction and MEN resulting in me missing my watercolor class.  I will not go into details, lets just say that is was the perfect cap to a perfect week!!

Okay, so you know how I hate Saturdays.  Today is Saturday.  I think I will blog a little later - when I am in a better mood.  This may be the last blog entry I ever write!  Hope you enjoyed it.

/bye