18

I have just boldly ventured deeper into the digital age – the "third industrial revolution", as they say.  What was the second?  I think I missed something between the steam engine and the 3D printer...
 

I'm a self-confessed techno-phobe, so this is somewhat of a big deal for me.  Yes, I have a cell phone - which the nice lady at the Genius Bar set up (is that pretentious or what?!).  And I have a personal computer, which my paid tech support assembled.  Of course I love toys - provided someone else sets them up and gets them working for me.  That's why the fact that this blog actually functions is next door to a miracle.

I was generously gifted this past Christmas with an iPod.  A device that I had no idea how to use.  (The batteries still work in my Sony Walkman.)  Such a tiny little piece of metal, yet so intimidating.  It sat idle for over a month, before I found my courage.  It came with instructions on how to download iTunes, and then it was off to the merry, old land of YouTube, to find an appropriate Wizard.

YouTube is my personal encyclopedia for everything.  (If you're interested, I've got a video bookmarked for how to fold a fitted sheet that works every time.)  I found excellent instruction for the use of my new iPod – how to download songs from my favorite CDs; how to feed Apple $1.29 every 60 seconds.  I happily discovered that my new toy is a cinch to use.  But I must say, I found it a bit perturbing that the voice of my instructor could not have been more than 10 years old.  Fine for her – she doesn't have a full-time job, a house to run, and a dependant cat.

I spent a morning going through all my CDs and shopping iTunes, choosing just the right mix of songs to get me through my morning and evening commutes.  Trust me, it was worth the time.  There are several things I dislike about public transit, not the least of which is the way it sounds. Oh, not the train - the train itself is fine, except for that irritating automated lady's voice that says the doors will open on the right.  (What if I'm facing the other way?)  I can tune her out.  It's the passengers causing the all the noise pollution.

It never fails.  If I'm lucky enough to get a seat, I settle in comfortably, just in time to realize that someone in my vicinity is listening to their portable music player at 150 decibels.  And it's never pleasant music - it does not have a beat and you can't dance to it.  It's always some endless, repetitive, banging sound, occasionally accompanied by yelling or grunting.  I take some consolation in the fact that whoever is generating the offending racket is gradually sacrificing their hearing to it.  But in the meantime, why do they always have to sit/stand near me?

A sound I hate even more is that which emanates from someone who has never heard of Kleenex.  Constant wet, sniffling drives me insane.  I'm tempted to carry around a little package of tissue to offer these folks, but I worry that if a sniffer says 'thank you', instead of me saying 'you're welcome', I'll blurt out the truth – I wasn't doing it to be courteous, it's because they're grossing me out with that disgusting noise.  That might be considered bad form.

Another thing I haven't figured out is why I am so often riding in the same car as a complete nut-job.  The one who talks or sings to himself with no inhibitions, and later begs everyone for money.  As a Christian, I think they need assistance and prayers.  But as a normal, everyday, human, I also think I'd like to get off the train and wait for the next one.  Now that I have my iPod, all I have to do is tap the little plus sign to increase the volume.

A minor snag regarding the use of anything with earphones, though...On my way home from work Monday, riding the subway, I was so absorbed in the music, and without hearing those irritating station announcements, I missed my stop.

 

One Thing That >50 Me Has Learned Along the Way...

Everyone should be taught elevator etiquette.  Just in case Mom, Dad or Aunt Minnie didn't tell you, if you stick your arm between the closing doors of an elevator to prevent it from leaving without you, that elevator had better be empty.  If it's not, then the act is impossibly rude.  You're holding other people up.  Wait for the next one.  I would cheerfully see all elevator doors retrofitted with razor-sharp edges and the ability to close 50x faster than the ones on the Enterprise.

17

Surrounded by all this beauty – incredible variety, colours, fragrances – I am suddenly awestruck by a simple, honest truth.  I can barely keep a spider plant alive.

 

I found something, that for me, was a buried treasure, only a 30-minute drive from home (that's if there's no traffic – if it's rush hour, 2 days).  This 12,000 square-foot greenhouse, which, along with all the splendour inside, features that rarest of gems that folks in this town hold truly dear – free parking.

 

 

 

 

I've never even stepped foot inside the Centennial Park area.  It's probably very nice in the summer.  But it's freezing right now, so I'm going inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This greenhouse, which makes the one downtown look pale by comparison, has been around since the late 1940's.  Maybe around the time they planted this guy?...

 

I love the cactus room.  Word to the wise though – that little sign that says "please don't touch" – this is for your own good.  Trust me.  Either that, or carry tweezers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My favourite colour has always been pink.  So if this place only had a TV set and a microwave, I'd move in.  There is pink everywhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No home would be complete without pets.  No shortage of those here.  Close to the entrance is a koi pond with 2 turtles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe there were more turtles at one point, but some got too close to this guy...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't know how this tree-rat broke in.  He's trying to hide, but the dirt he's tossing everywhere is a dead giveaway.  It surprises me that he isn't doing what every other squirrel in this city does – digging holes in my backyard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here's Angel.  He's about 12 years old.  He often says 'hello', and a couple other words that I would never repeat, unless I'm behind the wheel of my car.  Angel occasionally dances for visitors which is highly amusing.  Angel also occasionally screams his head off like his fingernails are being ripped out one by one, which is nerve shattering.  (You get used to it after about a half-dozen times.)

 

 

 

I'm not quite sure what the deal is with this 'fireplace', but the room feels somewhat like a memorial.  Perhaps that's why there was a professional photographer there the day of my visit.  At least I assume she was a professional photographer, since she was lugging around a camera with a 2-foot long lens that weighed more than she did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't really see why anyone would need a great big, fancy camera to get a good shot in this place.  I'm just wandering around with my cell phone clicking away – this place is what it is, and it's almost impossible to take a bad shot - as long I keep my fingers clear.

 

Before leaving, I stop by the entrance booth, to drop money into the donation box, and chat with Alice, a volunteer who has been working here for 24 years.  She has a background in horticulture, and taught the subject for about 14 years.  She's a lovely lady.  If you visit, say hi to her for me.

 

 

I also say goodbye to Angel.  I notice, when I look at the bottom of his cage, that he is pooping on The Toronto Star.  I guess that must be why all the horrible screeching.  He must be reading the editorial page...

 

One Thing That >50 Me Has Learned Along the Way...

It doesn't matter how carefully you check the pockets of every item you put in the washing machine.  Somehow, you always manage to miss one piece of Kleenex.  Then you open the washer at the end of the spin cycle, and there's your clothing – covered in tiny little bits of shredded, wet tissue.  I don't how that wadded-up piece of Kleenex gets through inspection every time.  I suppose I could just give in and buy myself a large supply of handkerchiefs.  But why bother?  I'm sure they would just magically disappear from the dryer one at a time.  So I guess I have to put up with little bits of fluff flying off my clothes as I yank them out of the washer.  Does this not happen to all of us?  Or am I the only person who has to vacuum every time I do the laundry?

16

All I remember from the last time I was in one, was that there's lots of books (the exact one of which you desire is definitely already checked out, with a waiting list of at least 3 other people), and you have to be very quiet...

 

This is quite embarrassing.  As previously mentioned, I have lived in my current neighborhood for 30 years.  But until yesterday, I had never stepped foot into my local public library, just a 20-minute walk from my home.

This is not because I don't read.  I actually read a lot.  I buy books at stores and garage sales, I trade books with people, I receive them as gifts, I pick up books that people have left at the bottom of their lawns; I own many books that I've reread.  Hopefully that's enough to convince people I'm not some illiterate yutz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are even quite a few "Little Libraries" within a short distance of my house that I've made use of – you take a book, and you leave a book; that's the deal.  I even considered requesting one of these boxes on my own lawn, but the colour schemes are hideous.

  

Someone out there I know recently lamented that he would have loved to donate a quantity of used books to a library, but the library didn't want them.  Now I know why.

Remembering back to the library I went to as a child, the place seemed huge – room after room after room, endlessly, with an upstairs too.  But this library – it must be an optical illusion.  From outside, it looks the size of a $3 million home, but on the inside, it didn't feel much bigger than your average 2-bedroom apartment (with carpeting apparently left over from an old movie theatre).  I don't see how they could stuff more books in there – they're full.

But it's not just books.  There's a little room for magazines/newspapers, shelves of DVDs, and a very large table with about 8 computer workstations.  For the space that they have, they are trying to make optimal use of it.

The times have certainly changed.  A sign on the wall instructed people with cell phones to set them on vibrate, and to speak quietly.  I remember my junior high school librarian.  If that woman had caught you in her library talking on a cell phone, she would have removed both the phone and the ear listening to it.  (Mrs. Crowley, if you're still alive, I have a copy of "The Condition of the Working Class in England" that I signed out in 1978.   Deepest apologies – I'm almost finished it.)

Before leaving this precious local resource, I did check out a book.  It's done express now.  You just press Start on the monitor, hold your library card up to the scanner, put your book on the pad, and when the screen turns green, you're done.  You can even print out a receipt that tells you the minute they'll start charging you 40 cents a day for late fees.  I checked out "When to Rob a Bank".  I found the content disappointing, as I was hoping to retire soon (next week).

 

One Thing That >50 Me Has Learned Along the Way...

With the exception of inside your own home where you live alone - if you move an object, for whatever reason, you should put it back where you got it, when you're finished.  Or if the object has a new (and I would certainly hope, improved) permanent home, tell everyone who needs to know.  Please, please do this, because I cannot tell you how much time I have spent looking around for something that someone else shifted.  It is a HUGE waste of time and extremely irritating.

15

Good thing there's no meat in chocolate or wine – I'd have starved...

I just spent a week as a vegetarian.  No meat, no fish.  Could I do this for a lifetime?  No way.  As the BFF reminded me, if we weren't meant to eat meat, God wouldn't have made it taste so good.

 

 

The week was not easy.  I had a to order a veggie slice.   If you can't have pepperoni, it's almost not worth bothering.

 

 

Then for a couple nights, a piece of spinach quiche with a side salad.  Salad has an upside for me – even with my limited cooking skills, it's one thing I make quite well (no chance of burning it).   

 

 

 

 

Sushi without the raw fish – well, it isn't sushi.  The cucumber rolls were a poor substitute, so again, I added a side.  (Oh, shush – it's a serving of fruit.)

 

 

 

It's just not vegetarianism if you're not inconveniencing someone.  When I advised the BFF of this week's never-tried-before adventure (my Friday nights are spent at her dinner table), the response was predictable - "well then the chicken goes back in the fridge".  This must happen to every meat-eater at least once in their lifetime.  We had veggie enchiladas instead – my first one of those, too.  It was very good.  Hope she makes them again sometime (with beef).

We just celebrated a milestone birthday for the BFF, at a restaurant I'd never been to before (even though I've lived within a 15-minute drive of it for 30 years).  Platters of chicken wings appeared.  My eyes welled up when the aroma hit me...

 

 

 

 

Thank goodness 2 of the 4 main food groups contain no meat.  (You use your food guide; I'll use mine.)

 

 

This has likely been pondered many times, but I think it bears restating – how come when a vegetarian/vegan comes to your house for dinner, you are expected to serve a meal that caters to their lifestyle and you won't enjoy that much, but when you go dine at their house, you have to eat tofu and dandelion shoots because that's what the host eats.  I understand they won't eat a burger, but can't they serve you one, respecting your lifestyle?  Which by the way supports the multi-billion dollar beef industry.  I'm sorry about all the cow farts, but isn't McDonalds bringing us all closer together on this great, big global village we call Earth?

Leonardo DiCaprio makes about $25 million per movie.  I hear he's a vegetarian.  But for his latest film, "The Revenant", to make one particular scene look completely realistic, he actually ate raw bison liver.  This makes sense.  Because you'd have to pay me $25 million to eat liver of any kind.

One Thing That >50 Me Has Learned Along the Way...

At some point, almost everybody needs a job.  Even dumb-dumbs and people with the motivation of a flea.  So stop slamming Wal-Mart.  They hire people that no-one else will hire.