Drop Drop Drop

That’s not the sound of rain you’re reading about. It’s the interminable doses of eye drops I have been administering to Peter over the last 5 weeks. And they’re not going away any time soon.

It could be worse. Those of us born in the 1940’s and later are luckier than our parents. We have access to a lot of medical procedures that have increased in scope and complexity. Take eyes for example. Improvements in eye care, including contact lenses and even a machine that can photograph behind the eyeball, are in common use. And most readers likely know someone, yourselves perhaps, who has had cataract surgery. This procedure used to be rare, and patients had to go through a lengthy recovery including lying flat for days. In 2025 the procedure is much simpler. Except for the drops.

Peter had cataract surgery on both eyes this summer. He was in a hurry because that special birthday, the one that comes with the drivers’ test, is happening in the fall and he wants to be ready. He has already practised drawing the clock. But he wasn’t sure about the vision test. The doctor confirmed that he needed the surgery to “get rid of those monster cataracts growing in there.”

The day of the first surgery arrived. Peter was worried. He hadn’t had any hospital visits since he was a child and broke his leg. His surgery was in a new medical centre where we had never been, in a part of the city we didn’t know well. He wanted to travel by subway but we were advised that the patient might be groggy after the anesthetic, so we had to find another way home. Furthermore, he couldn’t even have breakfast before we went!

When we arrived at the office, there was a line-up and the waiting room was full. We eventually found a seat and began to wait. Peter was getting hungrier by the minute. Soon he was called and had to surrender his wallet and glasses to me. He looked even more worried. What if I went somewhere, like shopping, during the operation? How would he find me without his glasses? I explained that the nurse would call me on my cell phone when it was time for him to go home. Reluctantly he followed the nurse into the inner chamber.

After only an hour or so, my cell phone rang and I went to the pick-up spot. Peter looked a little vulnerable lying there in the bed. He seemed relieved to see me.

He had some juice and cookies and then was well enough to leave. We took an UBER home and he snuggled into his favourite chair while he waited for me to prepare lunch. Then I told him the really bad news. Before lunch he had to have 3 eye drops – spaced 10 minutes apart. It would be another half hour before he could eat!

Indeed the drop routine is the hardest part of this surgery. The drop routine runs our lives. The second eye surgery went much more smoothly because we had figured out the system. But the drop routine was worse because it now overlapped with the first eye drop routine. So that means that we have to deal with 18 drops per day.

It’s like being jailed by your medication. We have about 4 free hours per day, separated into 2-hour segments. No sleeping in. No going far from home. No nighttime entertainment.

But no matter what we do with our precious hours of freedom, at least Peter will be able to see better – after the interminable drops are done.

Sue

Tobie’s Trip

Readers may remember stories of Venus the dog, or Missy and Sissy the mice, moving in with us for short-term stays. It has been lonely for a while, with just Peter and me, until an unfortunate circumstance changed all that.

In early July, Tobie, along with his two-legged father Dan, and brother Ben, was heading up from New York to visit for the summer, when their car broke down. This is not just any car; it’s a fairly new Mercedes with low mileage. It had no business breaking down. Furthermore it was loaded with stuff: summer clothes, water toys, Tobie’s dog bed, and even a big bass instrument so Ben could practice his new musical skill over the summer. And it was night.

Thanks to cell phones, the car was eventually towed to a dealership while Tobie and his family found a dog-loving motel for the rest of the night. But the next day the news about the car was not good. It would have to be towed back to New York City to be fixed.

It took Dan a couple of days to find a rental vehicle that was permitted to cross the border into Canada. He finally located a pick-up truck, with a big cab, but no cover on the back. Tobie and his family climbed into the cab, but the suitcases and bass had to go in the back. As soon as they set off, it began to rain. Dan drove quickly, hoping the wind would swoosh the rain away. Mostly it did.

Finally arriving in Canada, Dan dried off the cargo, and traded in the pick-up truck for a small sedan. He met up with his wife Jenny who had flown to Toronto a few days earlier, and they all settled into their summer home. After all that stress, Tobie was relieved to be in a familiar place with his dad. Meanwhile the Mercedes sat at the New York City dealership waiting for spare parts.

The summer came and went, and nothing else bad happened. Ben practiced on his bass and Tobie carried on with his life of eating and sleeping and sometimes walking. Then it was time to go back to New York. The Mercedes was now waiting for an entire new engine from Germany. The rental car was too small to take them all home along with their suitcases and bass and Tobie. And then it would have to be driven back to Canada anyway. There really was no option but to fly home. But what about the bass and Tobie? Should Dan pay for 2 extra seats on the plane, or stow them in cargo – to what fate?

Dear readers you already know the answer. The bass is sitting in our basement. As for Tobie, he has settled in quite well. He sleeps in his bed in our bedroom and hardly ever snores. He wanders around our back yard and sniffs. He licks the dinner plates before they go in the dishwasher. He has figured out how to take a running leap and land on the couch. He has made friends with several other dogs in the neighbourhood.

But mostly he waits by the front door, hoping his dad will come by in a vehicle, any vehicle, to pick him up.

Sue

Billy Bishop Airport

Many of us take flying for granted. Go to the airport and climb aboard. But it wasn’t always so.

In the early 1930’s, less that 100 years ago, there were no airports in Toronto. The 2 facilities were built almost simultaneously at the end of the 30’s: an airport on Toronto Island and another one in a field to the north. Billy Bishop on the island, which opened in 1937, got first choice of codes and became YTZ, while Malton/Pearson had to settle for YYZ. Both airports have evolved to serve different purposes in the city.

Billy Bishop welcomed its first incoming flight in 1939. Tommy Dorsey and his swing band flew in from New York City to great fanfare. King George VI attended the opening ceremonies. After that the airport was utilized for WWI training exercises by forces from Norway. When the soldiers and their planes returned home, they left behind a memorial stone on a plot of land that is now known as Little Norway Park.

After the Norwegian troops left, Canadian forces took over the airport in 1942. This is where flying ace Billy Bishop called home. Here he met William Barker and the 2 men became close friends, flying and fighting in WWI and most of WWII.

Billy Bishop on the right

The airport went through many iterations during those early years: civil flights, regional airlines, even ORNGE Air helicopters used for medical support. Then in 2006 Porter Airlines became the main tenant and the airport flourished. In 2015 a 250-foot underwater tunnel was constructed, making pedestrian travel from the mainland quite simple. As the airport capacity and convenience grew, Air Canada began to utilize this facility too.

Peter and I joined a Heritage Tour last weekend to get a closer glimpse of the airport. On our walk from Little Norway Park to the terminal, we passed the creation of a colourful wedding photography spot. Then we walked by a park where statues honour the Irish Immigrants who came to Canada to escape the potato famine. It was a heartbreaking contrast of happiness and despair.

Finally we approached the terminal, situated on the Island. But how to get there? First we rode elevators down to the lower level. Next we we took a moving sidewalk through the tunnel under Lake Ontario to the island. Occasionally we looked up, checking for leaks. Then we got on the escalator, apparently the highest one in the world, over 100 feet up. Unfortunately, the escalator went on strike when we were half-way up and we had to walk the rest of the way.

Dear readers I gave up on you at that point. I had to sit down to catch my breath. But Peter carried on and said the view up there on the island looking back towards the mainland was a perfect way to observe this unique achievement from above. Go and see for yourself.

Sue

The Heart Of the Matter

I had been having some dizzy spells accompanied by shortness of breath, and my doctor was concerned. For some reason she is committed to making me live past 90. So she ordered several tests: blood work, bone density, chest X-ray and 3 heart tests. It seemed that I would have no time for anything fun. But she said that several of the tests could be done at a lab nearby, and the 3 heart tests would be really exciting – at a brand new heart centre.

My heart appointments started at 9:15, and I didn’t want to be late for this exciting adventure. So I set my alarm, threw on “comfortable clothes” as requested, and set off to One Heart Care. There was no traffic and I sailed through every intersection on green lights. I arrived at 8:30. There was no Timmy’s nearby so I figured I might as well go inside to wait.

But there was no waiting – I was checked in and given a map of the facility, with the locations of my 3 appointments. I only waited about 10 minutes for my first test – an echocardiogram. This is the test where the technician rubs freezing cold gel all over the chest and then drives a probe all over the gel racecourse making lots of forwards and backwards moves, sudden stops and turns. After what seemed like a marathon, the technician said the pictures weren’t bright enough. I offered her my phone but she declined and said she needed to add some little lights to my blood stream. Then she was at it again, around and around, up and down. Stop.

After I wiped the gel off and got re-dressed, I was directed to my next test – the stress test. I was not looking forward to this one – the one with the treadmill that speeds up as it rises into the air. I was sure I was going to become breathless and dizzy – the problems I came to get fixed in the first place. But the technician was very sympathetic and told me to just concentrate on the lovely scenery out the window, which happened to be a highway with hardly any traffic.

So I persevered. The treadmill and I got faster and higher and faster and higher – until I passed. Not passed out – passed! Yea! I got to sit down for a bit and drink some water. Then I moved on to the final appointment, with the heart monitor. I had heard this one had jewelry.

Some jewelry. I got decorated with 5 different electrode patches in lovely shades of green, red, black, brown and white, all attached to wires which fed the monitor with heart data. The monitor was placed in a small pouch in light blue. It could go around my neck or in my pocket, and was to be worn for 3 days straight. I even got to wear it in bed. But no showers or I might electrocute myself.

Back at home, I was decorated and dirty for 72 hours. The patches got itchy. I was scared to death of electrocution. At night I had to wear pants with big pockets so the monitor wouldn’t fly around and hit me in the face when I rolled over. My dirty hair – well I am not going to show you any pictures of that.

All in all, though, I was impressed with the way our health care dollars were spent on this facility. One-stop shopping for the heart is a valuable asset, especially for seniors. I’m going back there next week to meet a cardiologist. I’m sure he’ll be nice, but I hope he doesn’t want to become best friends.

Sue

WAIT TIMES

In the last couple of months, we have found our calendar notations changing. A Lot! Instead of being used for social purposes, now the calendar looks more like a medical journal.

Back in May, Peter and I had time for lots of fun activities: a Jays game, some meet-ups with friends, fitness classes followed by coffee, Peter’s poker party, lunch with our “bridge group,” even a short trip to Montreal! Then all that changed. Lately we have been spending our time in doctors’ waiting rooms.

With a bang, I fell and fractured a bone in my shoulder, which required almost 7 hours in a hospital, wheeling from waiting room, to exam area, to sling-fitting room, and back to waiting room. All that was before I even escaped from the hospital the first time! Then I was required to return 3 times for follow-up consultations. Besides that, I had physiotherapy appointments twice a week for several weeks. But at least the wait time for those is usually short.

Peter’s eye doctor was up next. Her office is the worst. I usually go with him just to pass the time together. First we wait in line to see the receptionist. Then we wait for the tests: distance, eye pressure, pictures of behind the eyeball and so on. Then we wait to see the actual doctor. And on this last visit, we waited to see yet another person to arrange cataract surgery for Peter. That surgery requires 4 more appointments; one for measuring the eye, two for the eye operations, and a final one for follow-up.

Then last week I began to feel some shortness of breath. I figured it was the heat or the poor air quality so I ignored it for a while. Then I gave in and got an appointment with my family doctor and of course she ordered tests. So last Thursday I had to cancel golf and spend the morning in waiting rooms for blood work and chest Xray. Then the cardiologist’s office called to give me an appointment for next week, and I had a choice: cancel Peter’s cataract surgery OR cancel golf – again! How unfair is that?

On top of that, the dentist has started leaving phone messages about our semi-annual cleaning. She wants her share of our time too.

I know that we are very lucky to have these services so close and so available. And the wait times are easy to manage when one of us runs next door to Tim’s for coffee and muffins. Then we open our devices and read about people in many other countries who wait a week or a month for a bag of flour. Sometimes they even die while waiting. How unfair is that??

Life is pretty darned good in Canada. So if/when you find yourself in a doctor’s waiting room, use the time to learn more about our country’s wonderful people, including our 2 budding athletic stars: Summer McIntosh and Vicky Mboko, and our top-ranking Blue Jays team. One day in the future they too will be in doctors’ waiting rooms.

Sue

PS Sorry this is late – but, and this is the Truth – I was in a waiting room from 7:30 am till almost 11!!

Stratford And Shaw

We have 2 world-class theatres performing every summer in southern Ontario. And now they both have their own bus service! The buses operate every morning and afternoon, with time for lunch and a show in between. It’s perfect for us older folks who don’t like the stress of driving on our busy highways.

This year I was able to visit both of them. First up was the Stratford Festival. A friend, Beth, was visiting form New Zealand and wanted to check out this well-known festival. The bus ride there was uneventful and we had a chance to catch up on family gossip, the perfect prologue to the play we were seeing.

After lunch we had a cold and windy walk to the theatre, not at all the opportunity for us to walk along the picturesque Avon River that I had been hoping for. But our seats at the show were good and Beth was suitably impressed with the theatre. We settled in to watch Sense and Sensibility, a play based on the Jane Austen novel of 1811. It tells the story of 2 women, one sensitive and sweet, the other sensible and a feminist. Both are searching for the perfect, and wealthy, match for marriage.

Presenting this universal story is complicated by the Shakespearean thrust stage. But the adaptation is brilliant. Characters called “the gossips” flit around the stage, in and out, upstairs and downstairs, spying and commenting on everything, The 2 sisters whirl around on parlor chairs with wheels, from living room to dining room where they pull napkins and cutlery from their pockets, and pretend to eat. Then they roll back to the living room for more gossip.

Like most good theatre, the play has a satisfying ending, and we happily headed back to the bus. Unfortunately the trip home was not so satisfying. The Gardiner Expressway was reduced to 2 lanes for ongoing construction. In addition, the Honda INDY race track was being erected on Lakeshore Road and all that traffic was diverted to our 2 lanes. This caused a major back-up and our trip home lasted 3 hours instead of 2.

Undaunted by this bad luck, I took the bus two weeks later to Niagara for the Shaw Festival, with Peter and another couple. We chose a restaurant that was close to the theatre and had a patio brimming with flowers: near the entrance, on the railings, and on the tables. The setting was perfect for a summer day and the food was excellent.

The play we saw, Anything Goes, is a musical from the Shaw era,1934, with music from Cole Porter. This story line is also about pairing off. This time the 2 women are: a successful nightclub singer, Reno, and an heiress, Hope. Both are independently wealthy, but Hope has feelings for a stowaway and Reno loves Hope’s fiance. The couples have plenty of space to chase each other around on the set enhanced with stairs and balconies.

After many plot twists, with a gangster posing as a priest, and an interfering older mother, there is a glorious happy ending; the audience on our feet clapping and singing. We sang all the way to the waiting bus, steeling ourselves for the long ride home. Fortunately it was not to be. Despite a couple of slow-downs, we made it home in only 2 hours.

Both theatres, Stratford and Shaw, operate until the late fall, with bus service continuing on most days. You still have time to enjoy these local gems.

Sue

Food For Thought

An acquaintance dropped by the other day for a coffee and, as he was leaving, he mentioned that he had to go to Bruno’s to pick up something for dinner. The he said “My wife and I don’t cook any more.” Just like that!

A couple of days later, as I was going through my recipe book and meticulously making up my grocery list, I found a recipe for BBQ’d chicken wings that I wanted to try. The recipe recommended using wings from COSTCO. In the COSTCO meat department I found the wings for $23.99. Right beside them were wings in the same sized package, which had been skinned and seasoned, for $27.99. Did I really want to buy all that skin and do all that extra work to save $4? Definitely Not.

Then I started looking around some more. In another bunker I found bacon-wrapped chicken medallions. I had tried this myself with bacon strips, tooth picks and chicken breasts, and what a finicky job it was. I picked up the COSTCO version and added it to my cart. I found some lamb chops on sale too. I loved the idea of these and other meats that Peter could cook on the BBQ, leaving no kitchen mess. Now I was on a mission. Salmon steaks? Why not!

I looked into another bunker and found peppers stuffed with ground beef, something we had tried once and loved. Then I spied a 3-bean salad – three kinds of beans and a vinegar dressing: lots of protein and a work-saver for me. And then, staring me in the eye was lasagna.

Now every cook knows that lasagna is one of the most time-consuming recipes on the planet. You need at least 4 containers – one pot for boiling the noodles, another for sauteing the onions, spices and meat for the sauce, and a third container for grating and mixing the cheeses. Then you need the lasagna pan for the oven, plus other spoons and measuring cups. When you’re finished, the kitchen looks like a death trap – with red splotches all over the counters and stove. The COSTCO lasagna went into my cart too.

By this time my cart was getting full, and I was feeling guilty. It was not so much because I was giving myself a break from tedious kitchen work. But I was thinking about my rule to “Buy Canadian!” Although COSTCO is an American company, there are a lot of Canadians employed in every Canadian warehouse. But what about the products? I went home and checked online. Here’s what I found:

COSTCO beef comes from Alberta. Lamb comes from Australia. Salmon comes from the Atlantic but where in the Atlantic is not clear. I have my fingers crossed that the salmon don’t want to be part of the US either, and probably swim to Nova Scotia to be caught.

But chicken? Chicken comes from a farm in Nebraska! How can this be? Chickens are pretty easy to raise. I have a friend who has chickens in her back yard for heaven’s sake. Anybody can raise chickens. How many chickens would I have to raise to get a meal of wings for 2 of us, plus a few medallions for the BBQ? Probably about 7. Plus the cost of the chicken coop and the feed and straw. And fighting off the coyotes in the neighbourhood. More problematic than cooking.

As for the 3-bean salad? Made in Canada! A small victory in my quest to make work in the kitchen a little easier.

Sue

The Bridge Group

Four couples met one evening many years ago in a private home. We were handed drinks, introduced to each other, and asked to sit at card tables arranged in the living room. We quickly realized that our bridge skills ranged from novice player to card shark. There were a lot of mistakes and laughing. Gradually the focus of the conversations switched from the bridge game and towards families and travel. We discovered we had a lot in common.

At our next “game night” we didn’t even pretend to play bridge. We just ate and drank and talked. Soon we began planning more elaborate outings, to restaurants for example. We tried a pub in Unionville, an Italian restaurant with a band in Weston, and the Sultan’s Tent with belly dancing downtown. If I remember correctly, the last one was the men’s favorite.

Then we went farther afield. We tried some overnight stays at cottages of the couples: in Huntsville, Lakefield, and Minden. It seemed we were as congenial in the morning as at night. We loved having our morning coffee together. Walking in the forest followed by brunch became part of our routine. We hated to say good-bye on Sunday afternoons.

So we planned longer weekends. We seemed to share an interest in slot machines so we organized a long weekend in Las Vegas. We toured the themed hotels: the Luxor with its pyramid entrance, the MGM Grand with the lions, the Venetian where we rode in a gondola along the (indoor) canal. One couple even won some money, enough to buy everyone a drink at the bar.

Then we tried New Orleans. It has lots of slot machines and even some culture. We wandered along Bourbon Street admiring the unique architecture and the colourful beads the young women were wearing. This too was a favourite of the men. At night we visited casinos and at one point we took a horse and buggy down the street. We might have been singing too.

Then I met Peter and we upped the ante even more – Peter suggested Italy. First we hosted everyone at our house for a pasta cook-off. Three of the couples were intrigued so we flew to Rome. With Peter’s nephew driving us in a big van, we saw Peter’s home town, the Amalfi Coast, and Rome. Then we took the train to Verona and spent some time exploring that area too. It was “eccellente!”

After that trip, reality caught up with us. The husband of one of the couples died of cancer and his wife, totally bereft, became depressed. The six of us muddled along for a while. Then we hooked up with another couple who seemed to fit right in – they didn’t want to play bridge either! And by then, we were all older and had different requirements.

Now our get-togethers are different. We meet at one another’s houses for lunch so we can drive home before dark. Sometimes we have a theme like Mexican or Chinese. In the good weather we play bean bag toss in the backyard. At Christmas we exchange goofy gifts. Once in a while we talk about our aches and pains. And, when we long for a casino we play Rumoli, a board game where betting takes place using dimes and quarters. Just our speed.

This group has only played bridge once. What began as a simple invitation, from one mom to another mom on a day-care playground, has grown into lasting friendships that have sustained us in many other ways.

Sue

Disaster!

On Sunday Peter and I had no family visiting and I had no blog post topic so we went to see the Titanic.

Both of us have been intrigued by this terrible disaster since 1985 when the wreck was discovered off the coast of Newfoundland. Then the bolckbuster movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet was released in 1997. And more recently, in June 2023, Ocean Gate’s TItan submersible imploded on the way to the site, killing all 5 persons aboard. Lives upon lives have been lost due to this “unsinkable ship.”

The current exhibition in Toronto walks visitors through Titanic’s history. First we are introduced to Thomas Andrews, the designer of the ship. Workers are captured in photos at their desks working with graph paper and compasses. Pictures of the shipyards of Harland and Wolff in Belfast show the hull actually talking shape The official launch date, May 31, 1911, is followed by the ship’s maiden voyage on April 10, 1012. There are black and white photos documenting the events.

The Titanic in all its glory is recreated in parts: luxurious hallways, a first class cabin, and a replica of the grand staircase where visitors can have their pictures taken. There are many artifacts from the wreckage. We see ropes, an anchor, lights, a toilet, parts of the hull, and other pieces of hardware. Astonishingly, even dishes and some pieces of silver have survived over 100 years underwater.

A toilet and other bathroom fixtures

Then the exhibit moves on to show us a glimpse of that fateful night, April 14, 1912. Icebergs had not been forecast in the area. But soon one appeared out of the darkness, ahead of the ship. A video re-enactment shows how the helmsman turned the wheel sharply to the left but he could not avoid the iceberg entirely. It sliced along the right side of the ship, breaking into 6 watertight compartments. The Titanic was doomed.

Over 1500 people died that night. Many failed to heed the warning bell and refused to climb into the lifeboats because they too believed the ship was unsinkable. Others travelling in steerage down below could not get to the lifeboats because of the crowds blocking the halls. Some managed to jump into the Atlantic, only to die of hypothermia.

Personal stories line the walls of the exhibit. Famous business men like John Jacob Astor and Benjamin Guggenheim travelling in first class, along with immigrants from as far away as Lebanon, could not escape their fate. Captain Edward Smith, a veteran sea captain who was about to retire, was convinced by his employers at the White Star Line, to take one last voyage as captain of this luxury cruiser. It was supposed to be the honour of his life. Instead it became the coffin of his death.

Peter and I walked out of the exhibit and back into daylight, relieved that we had not been about that doomed ship. But now we had to make our way home. It was a hot day and we had travelled to Downsview Park by GO train, and then taken an Uber to the exhibition site. Going home was a different story. We decided to take the bus instead. After walking about a kilometer to the bus stop, we rode the bus to the subway. There was track work happening on our route so we had to transfer to a shuttle bus, then another subway, and finally a GO train. It took us almost 2 hours to get home.

Now, after studying the Titanic story, I am not saying that our trip was a disaster. But I will suggest that, if you want to see this incredible exhibit, you should drive.

Sue

The World of the Future

Our last weekend was full of surprises. Nothing was as we expected. Peter and I felt so overcome that I had to tell you about it.

We had planned a simple birthday BBQ for 2 of our adult children on Saturday. As the 14 guests arrived, they pleaded to sit outside. After working inside all week, they craved sun and fresh air. We set up the chairs and tables and gathered around. The young kids left for the local pool with their towels and adult supervision. It was a lovely summer day. Everything seemed normal.

As the meat browned, the corn boiled and the salad was ready to toss, the clouds gathered. Then thunder rumbled, and a life guard whistle sent the kids home. The rain pelted down. Everyone grabbed chairs and snacks and hauled it all downstairs to our “banquet hall” aka the basement. During all the rush, not a single person mentioned the climate change we are living through.

After dinner Agnes, age 13, announced that she had something to show us. She quickly walked us through her power point presentation about a new pet she wanted – not a puppy or even a hamster. No, it was a little gecko. It had huge eyes and a friendly personality, according to the research. (Really? There is such detailed research on geckos?) It was also expensive and needed food and a special cage.

Ahaa! this was not a show – it was a family fundraising campaign! And Agnes had incentives! For $5 a donor got 2 homemade cookies in their own special baggie. For $10 donors got a hand-made bracelet. And, for the donor of the night, the relative who made the biggest contribution, there were naming rights. The gecko was already named August, but it (they?) did not have a middle name. The bidding started. Even though she may have to deal with tariffs and other world financial instability, Agnes has a bright financial future ahead.

There was a flurry of activity as people found wallets and signed pledges. This led to the party moving upstairs into the living room where dessert and birthday gifts were the next part of the event. As Daniel was opening some unexpected gifts of hair products, the focus shifted from geckos to Daniel’s hair. What or who had created his new Afro-style look? The question sent people to their phones and an AI app that combined Daniel’s head with that of his brother, his sister, even his father. The new looks were hilarious. This is apparently the party game of the future.

About 10:00 pm people began gathering up their belongings. Peter and I, having missed our afternoon naps, waved god bye and went straight to bed. We had another full day ahead: dishwashing in the morning followed by a Mirvish show in the afternoon.

When we got to the theatre we realized we knew nothing about the show – Beetlejuice. We texted one son who told us that it was 2 hours of comedy and horror in the land of the dead. Why hadn’t we asked before? Did we really need to spend 2 hours thinking about our certain demise? But then the lights went down, the music blared, the special effects took over the stage and there stood Daniel’s doppelganger, Beeetlejuice, in person, hairstyle and all.

Justin Collette playing Daniel, I mean Beatlejuice

Our weekend peek into the future revealed ongoing climate change ( no surprise there), a different slant on employment opportunities for ambitious young people, the invasion of AI into our world, and life in the land of the dead. According to the play, that last part is going to be fun, with lots of singing and dancing. We sure hope so!

Sue