Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Scraping November for Joy

Ruts. Rabbit holes.  Short cold gloomy days. Long nights.
Attempting to find the lighter side of November for me is akin to finding the good in Hitler Or Trump.
Wait!
Trump I can find a boatload of humor in. Hitler not so much.

I have tried to force a gladness the last two weeks. I get up with hope and go looking for the fun and funny side of these short gray days, but nada. Zilch.

November is February without Valentines Day.

December I can get along with. A month of family, food, presents, get together s and nice meals and outings. January is still part of that equation with New Years, New hopes, New goals...then the slide into the long and cold without the reverie. March has the promise and hopes of spring and even the occasional mild day to BBQ without fear of frostbite.

September and October have the colours of autumn and football!

Then we hit the off switch on the joy button and sink into November.

I will work on me before I sink like the Edmund Fitzgerald did when the "Skies of November turned gloomy"

Namaste

David


Thursday, August 30, 2018

"The question in life is not whether you get knocked down. You will. The question is, are you ready to get back up... And fight for what you believe in?"
Author Unknown


In short, I am ready to pick myself up, dust myself off and fight. I believe that my life is worth living and I'm ready to start fighting for it. I'm ready to start dealing with things in a way that is healthy and in which I take my power and my voice, back!
Tinnitus sucks!!
The roars, the bells, the gongs, the monks chanting, the orchestral versions of  some National anthems to full arrangements of  Beatles songs for fucks sake. Whats up with that?

So today, the second last day of August. Two days before my unofficial new year starts (always loved September and still refer to it as first Month of a new year) I will launch my latest software upgrade that features ONE APP only. This App has life changing, mind altering, earth shattering features. 
I stole the name for  app idea and have no shame for using the name that rightfully should be credited to Michael J Fox.
Drum roll please..................................
Thrive Global interviewer: What’s your secret life hack? 
MJF: Fuck it and breathe.

My new life hack, secret app, software upgrade....fuck it...my new and forever going forward (never backward) mantra will be:


FUCK IT AND BREATHE


Saturday, December 23, 2017

Santa's Opus or "A Trump of Weasels"

2017 was one tough year for the overweight fellow. With with type 2 Diabetes, a recently developed Short bread allergy  and a legion of non-believing  4 year old's, it looked like a grim year Christmas indeed.

 Political landscape aside, he, and the North Pole's Claus Enterprises Inc factories were struggling since the inauguration of the President in his largest market.
The assembly line working triple overtime to create new Paw Patrol characters were cursing Netflix for the  venue that allowed 4 year old munchkins to eat all their  happy meals  watching the 30th episode for the 59th time.
Fingerlings were being hawked at a scalpers ransom by bidding sites on Facebook, making Santa and his elves look like Grinches for holding out until Dec 25th to deliver the fad. Why should kids have to wait for the big day when right there, in bold blue, was the auction for each and every Fucking Fingerling character at 3 times retail! And then there was the dreaded Apple! Apple did not help his public relations by releasing iPhone 10 before the fat man had a chance to load a sack full for the demanding millennials.

The problems were deeper than supply and demand this year for Kris Kringle. He, the red suited man himself,  had decided to partner with Tesla. By placing an order for Driver less Electronic Sled and a fleet of drones to compete with Amazon Prime for faster delivery, he felt he could gain a once wonderful reputation. But Tesla had issues. They welcomed the order and the marketing opportunity. yet here it was, Dec 23rd and no EV driver-less sled delivery was anywhere in site. Besides the issue of not nearly enough charging stations around the globe to service his electric vehicle, he faced the wrath of FOX news declaring Santa a Libtard snowflake who thinks the earth is melting (and is not flat).

The aviation authorities had put the kibosh on Drones in most countries except America. The US agreed to allow the drones if and only if they were loaded with self defensive guns, but the rest of the world saw issues with idea.
So the reindeer were woken from slumber and the Red Bull drips were activated to ensure wide awake herds. Logistics could and would be worked out, yet Mr Claus could not get his Jolly back on for this year.

Santa cross referenced his excel spread sheet list from all the Malls with his letters that arrived to the H0H 0H0 postal code. He frowned and started to overwork his puzzler.

"Why are banks asking so much this year?" he questioned.
"Record profits, earning out of this stratosphere. Bonuses up the ying yang to management. Stock dividends to come that will put bitcoins to shame! Why do they ask for more?"

"Why are the rich demanding so much for Christmas?"  came question number two from his bearded lips.
" Tax break for those who earn hundred of thousands. Business given a huge relief so they can buy back their stock and pay themselves huge bonuses and dividends, and they want the poor to give up their medicaid so they can have more!"
So many questions on this years list.

"Why" Thought the old St Nick " did Loblaws fix the price on bread so the people overpaid?"
He quickly scratched Mr Weston request that his customers "eat more cake" of his list.

Santa questioned the "me, me, me" egocentric requests. Better phones for selfies so I can take pictures of my hot self. Faster download speeds so I can see my "likes" in milliseconds.Luxury SUV Prego strollers, Lamborghini 10 speeds, no flood ice rinks for backyards, 5,000 sq foot homes, dinners out all the time but if in please deliver a kit, and the brand names, the names, oh the names!!!!

Still, he was happy on some fronts. His elves were getting a few more bitcoins thanks to the minimum wage being raised. But the spread between the have's and the have not's was a gulf the size of Trumps ego!

"Trickle down my fat red arse!" said Santa.
"...and all this fighting, fighting oh the noise, noise, noise!"

He got and idea, an awful idea. The fat red dressed man got a wonderful awful idea

"I'll swoop into Dumpville and offer them all
a chance to see Trumps heart  10 sizes too small.
I'll fix up the issue with sexist rude pigs,
and offer the whole Trump of weasels new gigs.
They will work in the factory up here at the pole
it will prove that the north is not such a hole.
We will give them low tax rates as an incentive to come
Oh sure half of the senate will be quite glum.
Mara-go-go north  we will call to ensure they will buy it
to trick a Trump of Weasels will be such a riot.
We might have to change my suit from bright red
To keep old O'range Ego from ending up dead.
Rudolph will lead the old " air force one'
in the hopes that poverty soon will be done"



Saturday, April 8, 2017

Pas De Deux

On our penultimate beach day in the spring of 2017, we note that "New France"has colonized early on the beach. At 6:30 am, our beach "cave" on stage left has been taken over so we claim a new spot. A much calmer day has the orange and yellow sails of the catamarans tacking in full view, and I am delighted and surprised to note a pair of kayaks  trailing a paddle boat in the sea. The serene calmness of this morning has little to no breeze and has brought out early morning crowds of families. The bocci ball court is drawn in the sand. Let the games begin!
This second last day passes so quick, it is as if I fell asleep! Time is quick and meaningless in the Caribbean. We make the most and enjoy life at the speed of Cuban life!

Our final day starts early as always. By all indications it will be a red letter day. Four stars. Three Michelin! top shelve! (I do go on do I not?). Vitor, my Cuban weather man and new amigo, agrees with my ratings at 6 am when we meet beach stage left.
"Bueno! Fantastico!" he tells me and then points to the solitary white puff of cloud and in his sign language indicates with his hands the cloud will depart westward. His grin is as big as his tranquility that his simple beautiful life offers him. Vitor's trade mark thumbs up will be missed when we leave.

My morning "Kibble", as Mary describes it, is a mix of cereals with natural yogurt to soften it. This start to the day, breaking my nights fast has been consistent for the most part on our vacation, and always chased or followed with fruits and cheese. We will have one more and last morning "Clap in" before our 9 am departure tomorrow.

Este Noche is the entertainment feature again tonight. I write this inside joke for my family. Readers (if any read these ramblings) can google translate this to understand my long running joke over the years of our Cuban resort visits.




The usual morning tranquility on beach stage left is welcomed. I mentally write more story lines for my Netflix idea of a prison facility that is run at an all-inclusive which rehabilitates rather than punish. I create the humorous dialogues that my series or movie will feature as I stand in line to get "Clapped in" for my kibble. I have changed the name from "Club Fed" to "Club Dump" in honour of, and borrowed from an old friend who I have not seen in a while. Bruce, my friend, and who I discovered Cuba with 30 years ago. We stayed at a 1 1/2 star resort, and I use the word resort with tongue planted firmly in cheek.

This wonderful vacation has been a fantastic inner journey for yours truly. A metamorphosis on many levels as well as several firsts! On this physical plane of reality, I played Bocci ball for my first time. A game that I associated as being for old Italian men in short sleeved buttoned down dress shirts, long black pants with their iconic black socks worn in sandals. Here on the beach, at 10 am the "Club animation" team marks the rectangular court in the sand, as young and old in bare feet, bare chests, and bathing suits, gather to make two teams. One small red ball is tossed, followed by the large 16 silver balls as each team member become fast friends and team mates. Quebec and Ontario n Cuba!

On the spiritual level, my former annoyance that was previously harvested by men and women jockeying for prime beach real estate to surf Facebook and text on their smartie pant phones, is all but a memory. This is a huge first for me, and one of many! From the Portuguese "Oil cake" desert, which after the first and only bite we both declared it and renamed it "Indian rubber ball cake", to the tiny hard boiled delicious Quail eggs we ate one day for breakfast. Six little eggs and I still needed my "Kibble".

A picture is worth a thousand words, and this humble attempt at describing our Cuban/Caribbean experience does little to paint for you, dear reader, the 3 pm scene of tranquility as I gaze out at the calm turquoise waters, sans sound, cochlear processor removed., on our last afternoon. If it were possible to do an MRI on my brain upon arrival, and again upon leaving this slice of paradise, I am beyond certain that my colours on the MRI scan would show the blues of the water, the orange and yellows on the sun and catamaran sails, and the whites of the sand here on beach left. This would contrast the Greys and dark colours on my "arrival scan"

We never know what the future holds, and I have given thought to wonder if I/we will ever return to Cayo Coco. We talk about the "Next time" and I am in a place where I taught myself to Dance to THIS music, and if the band plays in my future, our future, we will then dance again.

But today, at this point in our journey:THIS IS WHERE THE DANCE IS!




Namaste

David













Saturday, March 25, 2017

Cuban Beach Boy's

My "No Problemo" attitude has a wee hitch in it's giddy up. A Mariachi band has invaded my afternoon slumber party. Although not the usual mariachi group  that consists of as many as eight violins, two trumpets and at least one guitar. This Cuban beach boy band has two mariachi  guitars including  the vihuela:  high-pitched, round-backed guitar that provides rhythm, one trumpet, and a bass guitar called a guitarrĂ³n, which also provides rhythm. The bongo and the Morocco's add to the rhythm section. They have visited us, on this quiet afternoon,  to bless David and Mary's beach time with a few choruses of "Guantanamera". A famous Cuban song, and probably it's best known and noted song. It is of course from the the poem by the Cuban Poet Jose Marti. So just as Mary has nodded off into afternoon slumber land, the horn player hits a high C or b flat at a few decibels louder than a Miles Davis riff. Siesta is indeed over and this completes our Cuban experience" for the afternoon. We offer no CUC (Cuban tourist money), so in mid third chorus,  they move quickly on, sans ending, to ply their rhythm on other more  (hopefully)generous patrons of beach music.



Vitor is a native Cuban that greets me daily as the sun rises on the beach. At 6:30 daily, he sets up our beach chairs on his own inclination and unasked. Gives them a good sweep with his beat up half broom, then gives me his trademark Thumbs up. Vitor is a small happy native Cuban. Rag tag clothes, bare feet in old beat up clogs, weathered skin (is he forty or seventy? I can't tell), and a smile as wide as the Caribbean sea. He tells us that he makes 250 Pesos a month. He has a wife and four children. "Two small, two older" He is as content with his tranquil life and happy as a yellow bird is, up high in banana tree. 

Vitor tells us that he and his family have a wonderful life, His Children have free and very good health care/medical, free and excellent schooling, and housing is looked after. He loves his life and it shows. I tip him a CUC when I have one on me. A CUC is the equivalent of 25 Pesos, which is what he would make in two days salary. He does not demand or expect it, but he is as grateful as a school boy receiving ice cream on a hot day.

Vitor's gratitude for what life offers him gives me great pause today. Especially as I consider my belly aching last week when my Buick Regal was cold and I bitched silently that my car does not have a heated steering wheel. Sheesh. Vitor has no envy for us in vacation land with our unlimited EVERYTHING!  He walks the beach back and forth all day, every day,  5 am to 5 pm giving us all a thumbs up as he passes, as if to say "It's a tranquil  life" he tells us with his smile!

It is indeed

4 PM on the Beach "Stage left". The Cuban Beach Boy Mariachi band has long retired a few Pesos richer. Vitor ends his long shift stacking up the three or four hundred beach chairs, to make way for the Night Beach cleaning crew. I promise him a pack of "Hollywood" cigarettes when we arrive manyana, and I will make good on it,

He is our new friend.



Namaste

David