Life at the speed of summer

One of the things I find absolutely blissful about country life are those days that drift by, silent, breezy and rippling back and forth through time, as though everything is happening quickly/slowly/all-at-once. The birds squeep, the cats loll in the shade or romp through the yard, the bees buzz happily on the abundant blossoms, and the occasional car going down the road in front of the house is the only reminder that there is a world outside of this little plot of land. It is these days, when I see no one (except for Michael), when I don't leave the confines of the yard except to gaze at the neighbors fish pond on the other side of the hedge, these days that I drink in like ambrosia, knowing that in a few months, I'll be living in a hot, crowded and very noisy country in Southeast Asia.

And so it is that I take extra pleasure in recording my itinerary for the day, knowing that a year or so from now, I will look back on it and giggle.... and then sigh, wistfully.

7:30
Cat begins pounding around on the bed, looking for breakfast. Toss her out and close the door.
8:00
Give up on idea of sleeping in and focus on cat that is now scratching on closed bedroom door. Get up, feed cats, toss them outside.
8:10
While water for coffee is coming to the boil, shuffle through the hedge in pajamas to feed neighbor's cats.
8:15
Pour coffee, park at dining room table with laptop. Surf blogs. Bookmark restaurants in Singapore that I want to visit.
8:25
Let cats in. Let cats out.
9:00
Let cats in. Let cats out.
9:15
Make more coffee. Let cats in. Let cats out.
9:40
Neighbor's dog has been barking for 25 minutes. Stand at back door and yell, "Oh for God's sake, let the dog in!" They do.
10:00
Put load of darks in washing machine.
10:05
Change into gardening clothes. Begin weeding herb garden.
10:35
Hang darks load on line. Put whites load in washing machine. Let cats in. Let cats out.
11:10
Re-wash whites load with bleach because of stray red t-shirt that got mixed in to what is now pinks load.
12:00
Hang whites load on line. Continue weeding.
1:00
Give up on weeding for the day and begin to search for paintbrush with which to apply coat of tung oil to recently re-finished sideboard.
1:20
Abandon plan to work on sideboard as no paintbrush can be found. Go back to bookmarking restaurants on laptop in dining room.
1:30
Let cats in. Let cats out.
2:00
Begin searching recipe books with Michael in order to devise plan for dinner.
2:30
Let cats in. Let cats out.
3:00
Meditate.
4:20
Wash dishes. Fix door handle on back door. Put pork tenderloin into marinade. Let cats in. Let cats out.
5:00
Pour glass of wine.Take laptop outside onto back deck in order to waste time more enjoyably in the glorious, muggy thickness of another Niagara summer.
5:15
Note cats sleeping nearby on deck.

LUV YOUR DENTIST

I love my dentist. In fact, I think I may have the best dentist in the world. I say this because I just had a marathon visit, spending almost 4 hours in the chair having a root canal, then having a crown replaced. I realize that it may be rare for people to cheer for their dentist, but mine continues to do everything necessary to make me the most loyal customer in the history of oral hygiene.

I found Dr. D through circumstance. I was doing a show with his daughter and she suggested that my partner design the children's waiting area in the new dental offices they were building. Part of the contract was some bonus check-ups and cleanings for my partner and I. My first visit was not a happy one. I received the news that my gum disease was so advanced that I was in danger of losing my teeth. This was news to me since I had been obediently having yearly cleanings and check-ups with another dentist for the past eight years. The hygienist who gave me the bad news suggested that if my previous dentist had never mentioned my receding gums, he should probably be dragged behind a car. I have the rope and am still looking for him.

So Dr. D explains my new predicament thusly: "If you think of your teeth as fence posts and your gums as the earth, right now you've got a bunch of ten-foot posts in three feet of dirt. They could start to get a little 'wiggly'." He says the word "wiggly" as though he finds the word amusing, like he might say it to one of his six-year-old patients. There is no cure for this problem outside of some rather painful and expensive surgery. As an alternative, Dr. Dave suggests having my teeth cleaned four times a year. "We can't reverse it, but we can stop it." This is not something a self employed person with no health coverage wants to hear. But appointments were made and cleanings commenced, all under the guise of the aforementioned design contract, even though the freebies and discounts extended well beyond what was originally agreed to.

The good news is that we did indeed stop the advancement of the disease. So much so that I now only go for a cleaning every 4 months instead of every 3 (and I pay for the cleanings now). The bad news is that teeth, like the rest of your body, have a way of acting up as one gets older. I developed a cavity underneath an old crown and the only fix for this is removal of the old crown, root canal and installing a new crown. Now, let's clear up a few things here. Root canals are the most feared dental procedure known to man because people associate them with pain. The pain, though, is usually caused by the symptoms leading up to the procedure, not the procedure itself. That said, I can think of more comfortable things than having your mouth jacked open for 4 hours while someone drills, saws, hammers, laminates, colour-matches and generally renovates your teeth. If, however, you do have to live through this slightly surreal experience, I can only hope for you that it will be done by someone as placid, as professional, as thorough, as knowledgeable and as gentle as my dentist.

Ooh....ooh, and did I mention that he has a machine that takes a picture of your mouth and your old crown, then turns it into a 3D CAD drawing and sends the data to a small machine that looks like a futuristic bread box that carves the new crown while you watch....in 7 minutes!!!! Oh-so-cool.

So the inside of my mouth is still a little tender and the muscles in my jaw hurt if I yawn, but I received a beautiful new crown, the benefit of a 'family discount', and some of the best medical care in the world. What's not to love?

Old and Mouthy

At what age is it that people suddenly decide that it's OK to just speak their mind. To say what ever they want to say, to whomever they want to say it to, regardless of whether or not it's appropriate. I'm speaking specifically of the elderly here. We've all met them, and perhaps even have one or two of them in the family. They are the ones that blurt out things that, had they come from a younger person, would normally incite a fist-fight, particularly since the recipient of the barb is often a total stranger.

"Oh honey, you shouldn't wear that, it makes you look fat."

There are, of course, those people that have been out-spoken their whole lives, but those individuals tend to be the smaller percentage and are in a different category all together. They usually come with a reputation, built up over a life-time, and are often the local 'old coot' or 'bitter spinster'. They work hard to maintain this reputation as it keeps the unwanted at arms-length.

"My goodness, you're as black as the ace of spades, aren't you?"

No, the people I'm curious about are the ones that seem to flip a switch, waking up one morning and deciding that they have nothing left to lose. They fear not for their jobs because they no longer have them, they fear not for their personal reputations because they're old enough to not give a shit about status, and they fear not what others will think of them because they seem to be able to focus purely on themselves and their own needs.

"Are you pregnant, dear, or just spending a little too much time at the buffet?"

I remember watching Tina Turner on television with a room full of people when my Grandfather caused me to nearly swallow my tongue by announcing to the room, "A nigger with red hair? Now I've seen everything!" Try as I might, there was no way I could impress upon him the myriad of social taboos he had just unleashed.

"Heavens, you're so short you must have a hard time finding clothes that fit."

I have a theory about this. I believe that our world shrinks as we age. We need less space, we consume less, we do less, we see less, we hear less, we begin to create a smaller and smaller world around ourselves. I think that eventually, we judge everything by how it affects us and our shrinking world. We pay less and less attention to the opinions of the masses, the pundits, the press, the family, social mores and political correctness and comment loudly and clearly on those things on which we have focused our microscope.

"Don't bother bringing me coffee unless it's hot enough. I don't like coffee that isn't hot enough. Is it hot enough? I hope it's hot enough."

Perhaps these folks long for a time when the aged were venerated and given elevated status. Or perhaps a culture where us young'uns line up to hear them dispense the wisdom of their times. Perhaps I too will long for such a time when I am shuffling and mumbling.

"When I was your age..."

Is it wrong of me to tell them to shut up?

How To Get Good Service

It is a common misconception that the servants in the great estate homes of turn-of-the-century England kept their heads down and their mouths shut. Not true. It was not unheard of for a servant to tell a Master or Mistress that they had over-stepped their bounds or acted inappropriately. Lady Astor and her maid of twenty-odd years were known to have regular, epic shouting matches. The point being that an unspoken contract exists between those who serve and those who are being served and it is important that BOTH sides understand how the system works.

Part of being 'in exile' is working in the service industry, namely, restaurants. Day after day, I witness people who don't understand what their obligations are in the unspoken contract between server and customer. If you want good service, you need to fulfill your part of the bargain. And here's the great thing about it, ...IT'S EASY! Servers love serving 'diners', those people who dine out regularly, know how a restaurant works and enjoy discovering what a restaurant (or a server) has to offer. Even if you don't dine out often, using these simple tips will give the impression that you do and you WILL notice a difference in the way servers treat you.

1) ALLOW THE HOSTESS TO SEAT YOU
This may sound overly simplified, but people fight their seating choices all the time. Understandable if you're right next to the bathroom or stuck in a back corner, but how bad can any one table really be? A good hostess will cycle customers through the various servers so that no one server gets overwhelmed with too many people at once, thus limiting the time and attention spent with new tables. If you have special requests, make them with your reservation or tell the host immediately upon arrival.


2) LOOK YOUR SERVER IN THE EYE
Again, this sounds simple, but it's very common for people to address the air or the table when speaking to a server. Also, we know you're excited to be out for the evening, or perhaps you haven't seen your friends for a long time, but your server is only going to be at your table for a few minutes and then you can carry on with your conversation. Put your menu down, stop your conversation and pay attention. Part of your server's job is to 'read' you and they have a very short time to do this. Help them help you by giving them your attention. The sooner the menus can be dispensed with, the sooner your evening can really get under way.

3)KNOW WHAT YOU WANT
If your server asks if you are ready to order, and you say, "Yes", don't sit staring at the menu making "erm" and "uhm" sounds. If you're not ready, it's all right to say so. And don't ask your server, "What do you recommend?". Many servers will just suggest the most expensive item or push what ever the kitchen is trying to get rid of. At least narrow your choices down to 2 or 3 and ask for details about them, or ask the server if they have a preference between them.


4)DON'T REWRITE THE MENU
With all due respect, if you want it the way you have it at home, then stay home, or open your own restaurant. It's one thing to ask for your salad dressing to be on the side, it's another to start pulling apart the menu creating your own dish out of scavenged pieces of all the other dishes. Good restaurants, and good chefs work hard to give a range of choices to appeal to all tastes. Try it the way the chef created it, open up to the experience, you might just like it. And please don't ask for salt & pepper if it's not on the table. Chances are that if it's not there, the chef feels that the food is already correctly seasoned.

5)DON'T HELP
Unless you have completely re-arranged the table setting or have your chair pushed so far back that access is impossible, you don't need to move glasses or coffee cups for access. Let the staff work around you, just be aware that they are there. And please, please don't stack your plates when you are finished. You are not helping and it's a sure sign that you are not a 'diner', especially if you top the dirty stack with your napkin. Keep it in your lap until you leave.



OTHER TIPS
-Pull your chair in, knees under the table. People need to be able to reach the table in front of you and they need clearance behind you. A dining room is a shared space. You're not in your living room.
-Calling your server by name doesn't automatically make them your friend. Demonstrating that you know how to dine out will gain you much more respect and attention.
-Instead of asking if there are any "specials" ask what the "daily features" might be. Good restaurants have 'features', roadside cafes have 'specials'.
-Use your words. I am so tired of people who look at me and say, "Water?" or, "Bathroom?", that I now just stare blankly back at them until they articulate what they want. "Please", "Thank-you", and "May I" have not gone out of fashion.
-Your screaming child is probably not what the other diners in the restaurant planned on for their evening. Take it out of the room or get a sitter.
-Once you have finished coffee and dessert, leave. If the evening is going very well and there is so much more to talk about, a bar or lounge can't be very far away. While you are spending that extra 40 minutes chatting after dinner, someone may be waiting for your table. And if the restaurant suddenly seems very quiet, it's probably because you are the last people there. It's time to go home.

A WORD ON TIPPING
This is a hot-button issue for some people and it is those people that need most to pay attention.

Menu prices reflect the cost of running the restaurant. Servers make a much lower minimum wage than everyone else because their tips (theoretically) make up the difference. If servers in North America were paid like servers in Europe, the menu prices would be much higher and your service would more often come with a hefty helping of attitude.

Be aware that your server pays a percentage to the bartender, hostess and bussers based on what your table BOUGHT, not what you TIPPED. If you cheap-out on the tip, your server's tip-out is being covered by what the other tables may or may not have left.
Unless you have a habit of eating at one-star restaurants, it should be a rare occasion when a "zero-tip" or a "teach-a-lesson-tip" is called for. Frankly, if you are not happy with your service, it is your obligation to say so early in the meal by calling for a manager and requesting another server. If your food was improperly prepared, but your service was good, tell a manager, don't penalize the server. If the hostess was rude or the busboy spilled coffee on your dress, tell a manager, don't penalize the server. Shorting the tip is like lecturing a cat, you might feel vindicated, but the problem is far from solved. And, if you do bring issues to the attention of management, you may find that they can be convinced to compensate you with a round of drinks or free dessert.

Bottom line - Usually your service is going to be at least adequate, which means you will leave an adequate tip (10%). Most often, your service will actually be good which means you will leave a good tip (10-15% at lunch, 15-20% at dinner). Now and then, your server will blow you away and totally make your night at which point you will feel really good about yourself when you leave a stupidly generous tip. Remember, if you can afford to spend $200 on dinner, you can afford to pay the person that served it to you.

Wal-mart, the entrance to the mouth of hell

I went on a search for a new bicycle yesterday. I love my old 'granny bike' with the wide-ass comfort seat, but it has no gears and, frankly, it's just too much work going up hills or against the wind. As I was doing my comparison shopping, I decided that in order to make a proper sweep of the city, I should check stock and prices at Wal-mart. I don't know why I do this to myself. I don't like Wal-mart. I don't like what it stands for....the whole lie of the "more for less" philosophy. And I certainly don't like the fact that they're now a grocery store that specializes in nothing but processed, pre-packaged foods. But what really hurts my soul (and causes me to vow, every time, that I will never return) are the people that shop there.

I continue to be astounded at the number of fat people, women mostly because they are still the shoppers in the family, who are piling frozen dinners and other assorted 'bargains' into their shopping carts. And let's be clear, the majority of these bargain-seekers are not a little chubby. They are obese. They are fat enough that they have given up wearing anything but elastic-waist pants and slip on shoes/sandals. Their faces are set into a permanent frown from the weight pulling the corners of their mouths down. Those that have finished their shopping are gathered outside, lined up against the wall of the store, smoking and waiting for taxis or husbands to ferry them away. Making one's way to the front door is to navigate the chaos they create, a death-maze of shopping carts, baby strollers and ragged children darting in every direction screaming an endless litany of "I want, I want, I want...".

Those that are not the XXL shoppers fall into 3 categories: the frighteningly skinny, the terrifyingly old, or the tragically normal. The skinny are generally women who, for some reason, tend to favour a poofy hair style, even though this makes them look like a Q-tip with arms. A smoking Q-tip with arms. A smoking Q-tip with huge, circular eye glasses and arms.

The old are usually just that. Old, old, old. Now, I've often been criticizing for criticizing the old, being chided with, "Now, you'll be old one day too." That's true, I will be, as will we all. But I won't be old and clueless. I know plenty of old and older people with a pulse, a quick wit and an awareness of what's going on around them. The Wal-mart Old shuffle through the aisles unaware of anyone or anything around them. They drive their shopping carts into your ankles much in the same way that they drive their overly large cars into the rear-end of your economy, gas-saving, hybrid at a stop sign. They stop dead in front of you, blocking your progress, for no apparent reason. Much the same as they do in their cars. They hold up the cash line for ten minutes, digging through their change purses looking for those two pennies that will save them from being tipped over by the weight of the .98 cents in change they might get.

Sprinkled throughout this potpourri of human horror are the normals, those individuals who don't think that The Bay or Sears are over-priced, but shop at Sqaul-mart because they feel obligated to save a few cents. They have succumbed to the false barrage of "Save, Save, Save" which inundates them daily. Occasionally, I turn a corner and spot one these 'normies' and breathe a sigh of relief. Then, I start to wonder if just being in the store itself, the entrance to the mouth of hell, is what might eventually turn them into a gigantic-food-consumer or a shuffling zombie. How many visits will it take before any trace of normalcy disappears forever and their life becomes an endless search for the cheapest possible made-in-China-crap or a two-for-one sale in frozen, deep fried food? It is usually at this point that I run for the parking lot, swearing never to return and checking myself for signs of white-trash infection.