Sharon's Blurb

          I love garbage day. I mean I really, really love garbage day. Perhaps more than a person should. It would be fair to say I am obsessed with garbage day. I count down the days until it arrives. Looking forward to its ultimate arrival. Every other Thursday. I would say this obsession started when we moved to a municipality where garbage pickup is every other week. What?! Who can go two weeks without their garbage being picked up? It seemed inhumane. To expect us to hang on to our waste for two very long weeks. Granted, recycling and compost is picked up every week. And I guess the thought is that most waste is recyclable or compostable. But it is amazing how that garbage can gets filled up so quickly. By the time garbage day arrives, it is brimming. Two large garbage bags or one can is the rule. And it can't weigh more than 45 pounds. There was a time when our garbage man refused to take our can because it was too heavy. He slapped a

  The parking lots are unusually empty. It's a Saturday afternoon - a time when you would think many people would be out and about doing their weekend errands. But they are not. Even the roads seem unusually quiet.  Un-busy. At the grocery store, a pleasant surprise to find it not too crowded. Again, a Saturday afternoon - a time when you would think many people would be out getting their weekly groceries. But no. Something has changed. There is something tangible in the air. A palpable sense of quietness. Of holding back. Of austerity. People are hunkering down and making do with what they have. They are cocooning themselves, withdrawing into the safety of their cozy homes and condos, waiting out the storm. The storm of inflation. Of high prices. Of empty store shelves. There are whispers that we are on the verge of a recession. Shhhhhhh! Don't even utter that word. For we may then manifest it, and it may become so. I am not even sur

 When I was studying Journalism at Humber College, one of our assignments was to interview a long-time married couple to find out what made them stay together. Our neighbours at the time, were the perfect subjects. They were married shortly after World War II, and had come over to Canada from Germany. They were the best neighbours one could have; always up for a chat over the fence; always offering some homemade German delicacies; always cheerful and happy. When I sat down with them and asked them what made them stay together after so many years, the lady said, "We take each other for granted." I was in shock. Taken aback. I thought the secret to a great relationship was the opposite:  NOT taking each other for granted. And then she explained You have to take it for granted that the other person will always be there.   Always have your back. Always offer company, comfort, solace, friendship, love. Perhaps there is some truth to that. But I still thin

  I was gazing out at the garden, when suddenly something caught my eye. It was a bright little object moving amongst the wood chips. A closer look revealed it was a lady bug. A dead lady bug. Being hauled over hill and dale by a rather large ant. The ant would heave it up and forward over the rock. Then pull it behind for a short distance, before heaving it forward again. It was incredible. The speed at which this ant was carrying his prize gave me pause. I am not sure what a human equivalent would be. A 200 pound man carrying an object considerably larger than himself, rapidly and without concern for the geography, hurried and anxious to present his prize to his queen. Whatever the motivation may be, this ant was on a mission. He traversed what may have been the equivalent of several hundred kilometres in human terms. The terrain was of no consequence. He was bringing home this prize. Did he kill the lady bug or was it already dead? No matter. The

  I used to be so embarrassed as a child when my parents would strike up a conversation with a total stranger. Just chit chat, about this and that. I remember wanting to disappear into the sidewalk whenever they would hail a stranger, "Nice weather today, eh?", or "Gorgeous baby you have there!" Little did I know at the time that several decades later, I would be doing exactly the same thing. Engaging a total stranger in chit chat. While waiting in line at the supermarket.   Or with the supermarket checkout person.   With the receptionist at the dentist. Just chit chat. About this and that. About nothing, really. Nothing that will change the world. Nothing that will upset anyone's political or religious views. Or discover any new planets.  Or life forms.  Or invent any new discoveries. Just chit chat. Small talk. Idle banter that engages another human being. I read a study once that essentially said that small talk can actuall

  Who knew cleaning out the cat litter could be so cathartic. Cleansing. For both the cats and me. Who would ever have thought that the seemingly mundane tasks of vacuuming, dusting, sweeping, could become something meditative, cerebral and revered. It's all perspective. I recently learned that by turning our so-called workaday routines into observed rituals, we can reinvent our entire beings. We can become wholly immersed in the moment of doing whatever it is we have to do, and be transformed. It is transformational indeed. And it's all perspective. How you look at things. Perceive them. Our entire attitude changes by how we look upon things. By changing the perception of our mundane routines and thinking upon them as privileged rituals. Rites of passage. A privilege to be able to carry out. Indeed. Instead of dreading the routines of our daily lives and existences: walking the dog, weeding the garden, making dinner; thinking of them instead a

  I love the early dawn. The light that slowly creeps its way through the curtains at 5 a.m. in the summer, a little later in the fall and winter. But it's there.  Letting everyone know that the day is arriving. My body clock always seems to wake me around that time. I imagine it has been the same for countless centuries, that man is awakened by the early dawn. The birds are already awake, as they sing out their daily greetings. I always enjoy that time of day.   The day before the fray. In a previous career as a morning news anchor I awoke at 3:30 every morning.   I had to be at work by 5 a.m., just as the dawn was breaking. It was a glorious time - driving through the sleepy streets which were surprisingly full of other drivers too. Commuters perhaps who were on their way to the big city to their jobs. I always noticed the lineups were long at the 24-hour drive-through coffee shops, even at that hour.   And I still sometimes awaken at 3:30.   It wa

 So I took the Blue Zone test the other day. When I punched in my year of birth, it estimated I would live to my late 70's. After I did the quiz, and, touch wood, all goes well, it postulated that I could survive until I am in my mid-90's, and to my mid-80's at the very least. It seems I am doing some things right that may garner me a few more years, according to the quiz:  getting my two servings per day of both fruits and veggies, dairy, whole grain, and protein; getting lots of sleep without sleep aids; not smoking; getting daily exercise (just yoga and walking these days); having regular weekly social interactions with people outside the household; having a purpose to get out of bed every day (caring for the cats, the house, my various jobs and volunteer duties, depending on the day); and having a positive attitude. I was even truthful about my meat intake (daily, but less would be better), and alcohol consumption (1 - 2 happy hour drinks per day), and it still

  He scurried out from under a bush to the edge of the road. I beeped my horn, not wanting to witness both a rat, and a rat becoming road kill, and he scurried back. Then, more determined than ever, he ran back to the edge of the road, knowing that's where he needed to be, and ran across. Four lanes of traffic. He ran as if his life depended upon it. He was flatlined as he raced across the asphalt, knowing, it seemed, that his life could end then and there. I was mortified. Firstly, that I had seen a rat, in Barrie. And secondly, that he had seemed to know exactly when to cross the street and not get hit by a car. It was broad daylight. Around 3:30 in the afternoon. Close to a strip mall plaza that included a drug store and restaurant, dollar store and others. What was a rat doing in Barrie? I thought that was a big city problem. Like Toronto. But no. It appears that Barrie has its own rodent problems too. According to a pest control company, O

First you have mystery Then you have history Then the mystery is history.

 There are some things that get better with age. Fine wines, and old cheese, which are two of my most favourite things. But this morning, I noticed my ankle felt like it was being stabbed as I was doing my daily yoga routine. I have also recently noticed that my right hip feels like it is being testy with me; offering me slight pangs of pain at the slightest adverse position. My vision seems to be lessening with each passing day; hence the increase to 2.0 in reading glasses today. Sharon 2.0. I guess that seems appropriate. A newer, more recent version of my original self. Not that that is a good thing. At this age, anyways. At the ripe young age of 61, I have a bit of an understanding of what may be ahead. Today while at a seniors home visiting a friend, there was a notice on the door for a two bedroom apartment that had become available - to anyone 60+! For a mere $2700 approx., one would have the privilege of living in such an establishment with "assista

 To cut or not to cut. That is the question. As of right now, the miniature horse wee Winston is coming up to his second birthday:  April 22, which is also Earth Day. He still has his baby teeth! He is considered a colt. However his testicles have descended. The pressure is on from many sides and people to have him gelded. That is the technical term for castrating a male horse. Just like neutering a male dog or cat. But there are problems afoot with Winston. A first gelding attempt, last April when he turned one, went awry. A bad reaction to the general anaesthetic saw him stop breathing. A quick reaction from the vets on hand administered a dose of epinephrine which restarted him breathing. The gelding attempt was ceased. He remains intact. He did not go into the light that day. He came back down to earth. And so now, there is a worry, a concern, that it may happen again. There is talk of a breathing tube being put down his airway so that he can bre

 "Off with your HEAD!" I mutter under my breath, cursing at the happy, little yellow weed as I behead it into infinity. It happens every time I see a dandelion. It can't be helped. They make my blood boil. I don't know what it is about them. They are a jubilant, sunny colour.   The first food for bees in the spring season. Looking so chirpy and "I'm here" and all that. But I hate them. And every time I pull one out of the garden, struggling to get the root, having to settle for just the stems and leaves, I swear. It is a deep seated hatred. I don't know where it come from. Perhaps it's because I came from an era when toxic chemicals were allowed to eradicate them. Everything was so green back then. Parks, playgrounds, public buildings. Unlike now, when the dandelions spread rampantly in a sunny sea since said chemicals were banned for everyone but golf courses. The yellow carpeting now jubilantly covering those p

 There's a new catchword in town: toxic positivity. Who knew that anything positive could be toxic. Well, it turns out, it can. It turns out that there can be so much positivity that it fails to recognize other people's true negative feelings. And that, as it also turns out, can be a bad thing. Trust it to the negative Nancys and the Debbie downers and the gloomy Gusses to find a way to ruin positivity for us all. They would prefer to wallow. To have their expectations of true negativity not negated by an ounce of positivity, thank you very much! And I get it. Not everyone wants to have sunny ways foisted upon them all the time. There needs to be time and space for all emotions and feelings, for sure. The bad ones have to be dwelled upon and sat in for some time in order to healthily clear the way for positivity. Optimism. And I have been accused of being far too positive at times. My roommate at the hospital where I was having my hip replaced some y