Home For the Holidays

One belief I’ve held for a long time, as a friend, a parent and a grandparent, is that the gift of time is far more worthwhile than Barbie dolls, or videogames, or even trendy socks! Peter and I were able to put that belief into practice this past Christmas when we took our (Iaboni) family to Portugal.

We launched this idea in the fall of 2023 during an after-dinner conversation. Could we all go somewhere together, and where would everyone like to go? The response was pretty quick – they chose Portugal for Christmas. “As long as the place has a swimming pool,” the kids said. After some weather-related research, we decided on the Lisbon area. In a charming seaside town called Cascais, we found a villa with 8 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, and 2 above-ground swimming pools. It looked pretty good in the pictures.

Each family made their own travel arrangements, agreeing to meet at the villa a couple of days before Christmas. Peter and I arrived first. As we explored, we had first choice of the bedrooms. We chose one on the lower level, away from any noisy celebrations that might go on past our bedtime. It had only a tiny window and twin beds, but it had a small bathroom which we didn’t have to share. Perfect for seniors.

As the other families arrived, they set out on their own tour and chose their bedrooms. One family arrived with a sick husband and he was quickly diverted to a small bedroom near the front door close to a bathroom, although it seriously needed a make-over. It had a sink next to the shower stall, which was also the passageway to the toilet. The toilet could be flushed by pulling a chain hanging from the ceiling. Thee kids were highly amused but the sick person was not checking the decor.

The other bedrooms were quite nice with large king beds and modern bathrooms, and a couple of them had small balconies too. All the rooms had heaters to take the chill off. The kids chose their rooms far away from the parents so they could stay up at night and watch videos. None of them suggested being near the outdoor pools.

Next up was a visit to the kitchen; it was outdated like the first bathroom. The sink was shallow and made of rough granite. The stove was on a platform under a low ceiling. And the fridge – where was the fridge? We discovered it in a tiny closet. The dishwasher was in a different “area” on the other side of the kitchen. The dishes were in a cupboard in a third tiny room. Any person preparing a meal in here would get 10,000 steps before dessert.

On our tour we discovered another kitchen down a long winding hallway which seemed a little remote and creepy. What secret stew would chefs plan to concoct here? The main dining room, however, had a big table and 12 chairs. It was ideal for our group to play cards and eat take-out food. In the living room we found 3 large comfy sofas and a large-screen TV; lots of space for drinking port and eating chips. Peter and I produced an inflatable Christmas tree from a suitcase, and blew it up. It was the finishing touch we needed for our family Christmas vacation.

During the following days we left our villa and explored the area. We walked to the beach on the first evening and were surprised to find lights decorating every building and the Ferris Wheel. We ordered our traditional Portuguese Christmas Eve dinner of cod, accompanied by beef, rice and grilled vegetables, and a brave son took the local train a couple of stops to pick it up, all packaged in boxes tied with ribbons and Christmas tags. He made this trip even though he hates cod. It was a noble Christmas sacrifice.

On Christmas Day we rode the train to another town and enjoyed a Christmas brunch of egg dishes, salads, more cod, and of course custard tarts. On Boxing Day we went to Sintra, a UESCO heritage village surrounded by castles on very high hills. Everyone, including us, made it to the top.

Sintra from below.

After some lovely days together, everyone packed up and went separately on to another adventure somewhere else. But we can’t help thinking that the kids will not quickly forget our week at the villa in Cascais. The idea of swimming was forgotten as they got into the spirit of the occasion. Whether it’s the chain in the ceiling for flushing the toilet, the winding spooky hallway to the secret kitchen, the dinner that came on a train in boxes, the card games where they beat their grandparents, or the blow-up Christmas tree; we hope their memories of our vacation together in Portugal will live on.

Sue

Festive Trees

Trees have been a symbol of eternal life long before Christianity offered this hope through Christ. Then, in the 16th century, the German began bringing trees into their homes during the winter and adorning them with candles; a warm but dangerous decoration.

This tradition of indoor Christmas trees spread all across Europe. The trees were decorated with edibles like popcorn and cranberries, or homemade decorations such as chains or baubles. To this day the lighting of the Christmas tree is a ceremony celebrated indoors and out. In Toronto the tree lighting at Nathan Phillips Square, the Eaton Centre, the Distillery District are all special occasions welcoming the beginning of the holiday season.

This year I visited another kind of display – the 4th annual Mississauga Festival of Trees. The trees are designed by local crafts persons and artists, and each represents a particular theme or a belief; something with a deeper meaning than Santa and presents.

The first tree that caught my eye was called Crafting Change. It depictesthe quilting legacy of Victorian women who created beauty from scraps of fabric and patchwork quilting techniques. It demonstrates the resilience of those 19th century women who used whatever resources were available to them to build lives for their families.

There were several tress devoted to appreciation of nature: a wildlife tree with photos of local animals set on a snow-covered tree trunk, other trunks wrapped in culturally significant threads, ropes and twine, and a hedge titled False Cedars, made of 10,000 paper bundles, showing the disparity between the healing nature of cedar and the world of false materials. The Debris Tree, decorated with bits of garbage was a sobering addition to the display.

Another eye-catching display was called Roots and Branches: Dinner Legacies. Created entirely from perfectly-balanced chairs, this installation symbolized the generations of families who gathered around tables to share stories and celebrations and to support one another. The creation is topped with an olive tree representing peace, prosperity and friendship.

My favourite tree shape was created from vintage bird cages surrounded by evergreen boughs with red cardinals peeking into the scene. The inside of each cage depicts part of the Festival Narrative: holiday preparations in miniature: baking, wrapping gifts, decorating the house, and celebrating with friends.

After the tour was over, I headed back home to take another look at our own tree. This year, for the very practical reasons of saving time and space, Peter and a visiting son hauled our oleander bush in from outside, and we decorated it. Tiny white lights, sparkling silver balls and red cardinals all create a festive look. And the oleander seems very happy in its new role. I think I’ll call it:

Real Tree Enjoying the Holiday Season Indoors With Family.

Sue

PS Like the oleander, I will be celebrating the holidays with family. I’ll be with you again on January 7th, 2025

Christmas At the Castle

Did you know that Toronto’s Casa Loma is one of only 5 authentic castles in North America? I couldn’t think of a better place to share a Christmas outing with my 2 grand daughters than this grand old lady. But the visit was not without its challenges.

Casa Loma was built by Sir Henry Pellatt in 1914 for his wife, and it cost him 3.4 Million dollars – over 100 years ago. This is one expensive house. Its amenities include 98 rooms, many with attached bathrooms, also towers, stables and secret passageways. You may wonder where Pellatt got all that money. Well he figured out that his contemporary, Thomas Edison, was onto something with his study of electricity, and Pellatt quickly developed the idea for a hydro-electric generating station in Niagara Falls. The rest, as they say, is history.

Both Agnes and Sophie seemed intrigued by the idea of visiting the castle, poking around, and having lunch there. So we chose a Saturday. I studied the subway maps and arranged for us to meet at the Bloor Yonge station and take line 1 on the west side to Dupont Station. Then we would climb 110 steps up to the castle. Easy-Peasy. But, as the date got closer, I began to have nightmares about those steps. It would be sooo embarrassing when the girls bounded up those steps, leaving me behind struggling to breathe.

On the day of our trip, Sophie texted to say that she was sick with a bad cold and couldn’t join us. So Agnes and I carried on without her. Except we couldn’t carry on because the subway service had been cancelled on the line that we needed. We had to re-route to the Yonge subway and then take a streetcar across St. Clair Ave to Spadina. This change was fine with me – it had NO steps!

First we ate lunch in the castle cafeteria which was not quite up to castle standards. We had both worn our better clothes, that is to say, no jeans, and we were a little overdressed. The waiters wore sweat pants and elf hats. There was no linen, no silverware, and definitely no candelabra. The food was good enough but the service was slow and we had plenty of time to study the castle map. Agnes wanted to see the great hall and the library first.

The library was closed to the public and the great hall was dwarfed by the great tree. So we made our way up the grand staircase to check out the bedrooms. We saw that they all had fireplaces, not very efficient for heating the second floor of an old stone building. We also noticed that the Pellatts and their families must have been very short to have slept in the beds. Agnes grimaced as she imagined her legs dangling from the knees down, over the footboard.

We visited Sir Henry’s bedroom and admired his shower stall – an early version of a shower one might find at a wellness spa today. But we wondered why Sir Henry’s suite was not adjoining Lady Mary’s suite? In fact, it was in an entirely different hallway. Her bathroom was quite different from his and had an early version of a French bidet. Both bedrooms had huge separate dressing rooms: Sir Henry’s for his army uniforms of the Queen’s Own Rifle Brigade. Lady Mary’s dressing room held uniforms from her time volunteering for the Girl Guides. Maybe they were too busy with their volunteer work to have any time for each other.

In the upstairs hallway was the 2nd floor phone. Agnes stared in disbelief and tried to imagine hanging onto the receiver apparatus while speaking into the microphone attached to the table. “How do you facetime on that thing?” she asked. On the third floor we bypassed a lot of history of the 2nd World War as Agnes made a bee-line for the tiny steel staircase leading up to the top of one of the towers. I waited for her at the bottom.

Then we decided we had had enough of castle-ing. I think Agnes wanted to get back to the 21st century because we ignored the stables and she didn’t even mention the gift shop. We climbed back on the streetcar and then said goodbye as we transferred to different subways. Agnes got home quickly and safely. I think we both felt that, while the castle might be a little outdated, our time together had been totally worthwhile.

But my adventure was not quite over. At my 3rd subway stop the conductor told us that service was interrupted for the next 5 stops, due to a security incident. Then came the words no subway rider ever wants to hear: “Shuttle busses will be running.”

As I walked along Bloor St. I couldn’t help thinking that I’d happily hitch a ride in the Pellatt’s horse and buggy if they happened to come along.

Sue

Buffalo

Did you know that Buffalo may be Canada’s best revenge against Donald Trump and his tariffs?

I grew up in St. Catharines, not too far from the US border. When our car needed gas or my dad needed beer, we would often drive “over the river” (the Nagara River that is) and fill up, at very cheap prices. When the family wanted a Saturday night outing, we would travel to Buffalo and gorge on wings and fries. During school vacations we would go to the Niagara Outlet Mall and stock up on school clothes. We saved a lot of money that way. Not only were the prices cheaper to start with, but back then the Canadian dollar was at par with the US dollar.

Many Canadians living in cities and towns near the US border shopped this way. Holidays were built around a trip to a US mall. The mall garbage cans were filled with price tags and shopping bags and shoe boxes discarded by buyers, along with the old clothes and shoes they had been wearing in the morning. Families would stay overnight at a nearby motel that had an indoor swimming pool. Everyone was happy.

Crossing the border to return home, the family would meet the customs office who would ask: “What are you bringing across the border today?” The driver would smile and say “Oh sir, nothing to declare. We just went over for lunch.” Then he would sneak a peak at his gas gauge which read FULL. Meanwhile the kids in the back seat would stare down at their shiny shoes, scuffed up enough to betray their newness. And the wife would be wearing two new dresses under a jacket, as she wiped perspiration from her brow.

Even after I moved to Toronto I would sometimes join friends on a weekend shopping trip. We’d drive across the borer to the outlet mall, split up and raid the stores. Then we’d meet for lunch and share our finds. And then we’d go back at it again. After loading up the car with clothes, bedding and cosmetics, we’d drive farther along the highway to a boutique hotel, just past Buffalo. We’d settle in, enjoy a fabulous meal, and drink wine.

The next morning after a bountiful brunch, we’d head home, stopping here and there at antique stores and fruit stands. When we got to the border, we’d smile politely at the customs officer who usually asked the total price of our purchases. The customs allowance back then was $100 for a weekend away. Coincidentally each one of us had spent just under that limit – $96, $91, $94, and $97. Hard to believe that we were so good at doing math in our heads. In fact, when we added gas, hotel, food, and wine, we’d probably each spent well over $500 in the Buffalo area.

Nowadays these fun Canadian shopping habits are beginning to disappear. With the Canadian dollar trending downwards and gas prices going up, fewer people are making their way south to Buffalo, or Michigan, or Seattle. We stay put and make do with our local Winners and COSTCO. And with the Trump tariffs on the way, this downward trend is going to continue. We’ll be spending our holiday shopping sprees in our own country. And we’ll have fun too.

So Donald, take that! Who says that average Canadians can’t protest over the shameful results of the recent US election?

Sue

Technology Is Driving Us Crazy

A couple of months ago our insurance provider, Johnson, sold off their vehicle insurance branch to another company, Belair Direct. We had been very happy with Johnson and had no say in this sale.

Peter and I have been driving for over 60 years and both of us have pretty clean driving records: no accidents caused by either of us, and only a few parking tickets. Since moving to the city, we have switched our mode of travel to public transit and walking. Our cars sit in the garage getting dusty and waiting for for COSTCO visits, trips to family cottages, and the curling rink which is not on a subway line.

We were OK with this arrangement until Belair Direct sent Peter an email message telling him he could get 10% off the cost of our policy. Peter is highly motivated by a deal and immediately began filling out the attached form. Then he came to the spot where he had to fill in his cell phone number. You will be shocked to hear this – but Peter has no cell phone. So I was called in to help.

After studying the form, I realized that the company wanted to install a device on my car that would monitor my driving habits. I am not quite ready to let AI take over my life yet, so I said no. By this time, however, Belair had my cell phone number and the phone calls have been non-stop. I have hung up on them, I have answered with rude words, I have threatened, I have pleaded. As a matter of fact, excuse me while I answer my phone again RIGHT NOW! Aggghhh…

Meanwhile Peter got another message from Belair asking him to complete a “survey” for another 10% off the bill. When we read the message more closely, the request was hidden in the text. It was a chance to sign up for “autocoverage” which didn’t mean CAR coverage; it meant coverage by technology. In other words, all our coverage would be done online. Forms, photos, documents, everything. No nice person would be at the end of a phone to ask “May I Help you?” If we had an accident, we would have to download everything by ourselves; while we waited at an intersection, bleeding to death, our car in pieces. And I’d have to use MY phone to do it because Peter still wouldn’t have one!

Driving for older folks is hard enough these days as our bodies and minds age. I have to admit that some new technology features are a big help. My car cameras, (blind spot and back-up), can be helpful if my neck is stiff from arthritis. My front-end braking assist is useful if I happen to approach a car from behind while I’m searching in my purse for my grocery list. The GPS is handy if I get lost in a new neighbourhood.

However, technology could do a much better job of one thing – construction! Surely some tech person could figure out a way around all those orange cones and signs, without long detours. Or maybe find a way to install sewer pipes that didn’t involve big diggers and dump trucks. Or how about a way to solve the bike lane issue?

Sadly, I have run out of space in this post. My answer to bike lanes will have to wait till next week. If you have any ideas, send them along. But you’ll have to use technology to reply because the post office is on strike and the drive to our house is hampered by construction.

Sue

TAYLOR AND ME

With Taylor Swift in town, readers would expect me to write something about her. Wouldn’t you? After all she has pretty much taken over the city.

But I don’t really follow Taylor’s music, and this site has a limited budget which doesn’t allow for $1,000 per-person tickets to go to a concert. I was tempted to write about some other newsworthy item, like my teen-age rise to fame, but frankly I don’t remember it. My mind kept wandering back to this superstar. What is it about her that attracts so many millions of fans?

Even though she is only 35 years old, Taylor Swift (named after singer James Taylor), has a long performing history. As a child she sang at Montessori concerts and in school musicals. Then she started going to New York City for voice and acting lessons. By age 13 Swift won a deal with RCA records and began travelling to Nashville with her mother. Clearly her parents were well-off and could afford to support their daughter’s musical career, just like her namesake.

As a young teen, Swift learned the guitar and did commercials for Maybelline. She followed the music of Patsy Cline and Shania Twain. Most of my teen age friends and I followed Elvis, with never a thought of actually singing like him or even being in his back-up group. But Swift was determined to build a career in country music. So her parents did what she needed – they moved the family to Nashville. Wen I was 13, my family moved to a small town called Greece New York where there was definitely no music scene.

Along the way Swift began writing her own material: tunes and lyrics. For example she would write about what happened in school on a certain day, what boy winked at her, what girl called her names. Then she would design costumes and add dance moves too. She was, and still is, the whole package. Many of us wrote stuff like that in our diaries, and we made costumes out of old castoffs in the attic. But that’s as far as it went for our stardom.

Swift’s debut album, Taylor Swift, was released when she was just 17. Accolades poured in for this emerging star. For most of us, age 17 meant our first part-time job at a greasy spoon. and maybe singing along with the jukebox. I even had a tiny radio that ran on batteries!

At the American Music awards in 2019, Swift was named Artist of the DECADE. In 2020 she was the highest paid solo musician worldwide. Concerned about theft of her content, she began to re-release her albums in her own style. Fearless: Taylor’s Version was released in 2021. In 2023 Swift was the most streamed artist on Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon.

Her fan base has grown to many millions, all across the globe, across age groups, and across genders. Her fans include musicians, as she has often advocated for them on issues of intellectual property rights and streaming policies. She has become a cult figure with her own logo – friendship bracelets. She supports women’s rights. Folks like you and I continue to watch in wonder.

Not surprising to learn that Swift is rich; in 2023 she became a billionaire. And she gives it away too. She had already donated millions to charitable causes: cities ravaged by storms and floods, schools for needy kids, food banks at every concert venue. So what else to do but create another tour? Meanwhile our thirties were spent raising kids and paying the mortgage. Sometimes we went to a bar and sang along with the band to “Sweet Caroline.”

Toronto has come alive in pink. The subway system has posters on every wall and pillar. Stores and malls have pop-up tables and kiosks full of Swift “merch.” Radio stations blast her hits. Downtown is filled with loving fans, cheering and trading bracelets, (except for one couple that has gone to court, fighting over a divorce and who gets the Swift concert tickets). Mostly it is all about adoration and happiness.

But I am wondering about one thing. Our generation all worked hard, gradually moving up the career ladder, and maybe striving for an upper rung before we retired. We left lots of goals unattained. For Taylor Swift, having reached the top of her game at age 35, what is she going to DO for the next 60 years?

Sue

Affordable Housing

Thanks to all you wonderful readers who contributed comments on my Election Day post. Your ideas were insightful and heartfelt. So very sorry they were in vain. It’s sadly ironic that yesterday we honoured millions of war heroes who paid with their lives to save democracy, when only last week millions of voters had given it away with a check mark on a ballot.

However, our life of relative stability goes on, for 2 more months at least. Our family has been focused on the real estate market. My son and his wife sold their townhouse and bought a condo, all in a couple of weeks. We went along for the ride, metaphorically, with lots of conversations. Did they need 3 bedrooms or could they manage with 2? Was the washing machine big enough? How would Venus (the dog) cope with the elevator? These are first-world problems, for sure.

Then the owners of the oddly-shaped house next door to us finally held an Open House. I marched in shamelessly. The home is beautiful: bright and airy and unique. There are big entertaining rooms, small private spots, and natural outdoor spaces. There are also: 6 bathrooms, 4 fireplaces, heated floors, a workout studio, 2 elevators, and an entire room devoted to the technology needed to run the building.

Does anybody really Need that much house?

Last year around this time the issue of affordable housing began to surface in Toronto. Our parks became tent cities. Our alleyways grew into drug dealers’ business outlets. Our refugees slept on subway grates. Our new mayor, Olivia Chow, wrang her hands in despair.

Government officials should have looked into the past for inspiration. They could have seen how architects dealt with the shortage of housing for soldiers returning from WW II in 1945. One enterprising architectural firm, Wartime Housing Corporation, came up with a home design, referred to as Simplified Cape Cod. It has a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom on the main floor, with 2 more bedrooms upstairs under a pitched roof. Over 46,000 of these houses were built across Canada in the next 2 years.

One such neighbourhood still exists in Toronto. So we went to have a look. Called Queensway Park, it contains 200 homes built in 1945-46. Most of them have Not been renovated. They were built with quality materials and are well-cared-for by their owners. The neighbourhood has quiet cul-de-sacs, curving streets and plenty of green space; perfect for a family.

In recognition of the original military owners, many residents decorated their small homes for November 11th, with poppies and other memorabilia. In this neighbourhood, residents have Not forgotten.

Sue

Election Day In America

As I have said a couple of times before, this is not a political blog. But then today came along.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out a positive message for this morning. It has been years of chaos for America and its allies, beginning with Trump on that infamous escalator ride down and down and down, into a political abyss of failing to keep promises, taking bribes, making friends with enemies, offering deadly medical advice during a pandemic, planning ways to take control of women’s health, promising revenge on his enemies. To mention just a few.

Then Joe Biden rose to the occasion and governed with a steady hand and years of experience, helping his country to recover from Covid, guiding the economy forward, passing infrastructure bills, extending the ACA, and trying to resolve the illegal immigrant situation. What more could one person do in just 4 years? But Joe did one more thing – he stepped away from his office because his country mattered more.

Trump and his MAGA followers were enraged. How dare sleepy Joe give his spot to a smart, tough, charismatic vie-president, a Woman for heavens sake? The Republican campaign did a swift turnaround. Fine-tuned attack ads. Made up racist slogans. Told even bigger lies. Hired Elon Musk. Survived 2 assassination attempts. Called Puerto Ricans “garbage.” Called Harris names I wouldn’t repeat.

And that brings us to today. People around the world are shaking in their shoes. Whether wearing Republican cowboy boots, Democratic dress shoes, flip flops, or even going barefoot, everyone is looking at the path forward with fear. Never before in modern US history has the fork in the road led to such extreme ends. On the right – years of economic, environmental, and social chaos. On the left – policies, plans and programs for the good of the people.

Even if Harris is elected, there will be chaos. Already seeds of doubt about the election process are being sown. Court appeals have been submitted. The violence of January 6th 2021 is being reinvented. It would take a new government months or even years to create order from all the turmoil.

What can I say on this dark morning? I found something in a column by a writer I follow regularly. She points to Abraham Lincoln, a relatively unknown US lawyer who rose to prominence in the 1850’s with his belief that all men (sorry, he wasn’t perfect) are created equal, including slaves. The rich southern aristocracy ( as powerful as an oligarchy) fought back. But in 1860, VOTERS put Lincoln in the White House.

Yes there was a civil war. And many lives were lost. But by 1863 Lincoln was able to deliver the Gettysburg Address, firmly rooting the United States in the Declaration Of Independence, and stating that the “government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from this earth.”

Let’s hope he was right.

Sue

A Square To Be Proud Of

In 2021 the Canadian government voted to mark an official Day Of Truth and Reconciliation, on September 30. This September a new installation was opened in Nathan Phillis Square, Toronto. Last week we decided to investigate this new Spirit Garden.

We took the Yonge subway to Dundas and wandered through the Eaton Centre, stopping for lunch at the Food Court and remarking, as we headed through the shopping maze, that neither Peter nor I had been to Nathan Phillips Square in Ages. We have visited on a few occasions such as New Year’s Eve, but mostly we have used the square as a short-cut between Yonge St And University Ave.

This time we entered from the east side and had to weave through a lot of props, signage and equipment, as we made our way to the south-west corner of the square. Construction workers and event planners were setting up for the Diwali Festival Of Lights, happening on the weekend.

Then a series of new installations, the Spirit Garden, caught our eye. Attracting us first was a large turtle, symbolizing the First Mother. She is labouring up a hill, a look of determination on her face. She represents the Indigenous people struggling against land and cultural appropriation, evidenced by the residential school tragedy. The turtle is staring at the roadblock of listed schools in its path.

On one side of the turtle’s journey sits a large inuksuk, (a human-like figure guiding travellers and warning of danger ahead) and on the other side a shiny copper teaching lodge, built to be an Indigenous classroom. Nearby rests a canoe, symbolic of early travel from the north along Carrying Place, to the Great Lakes. Unlike practical vessels, this one is shimmering stainless steel with colourful patterns etched on its sides.

At one end of the Spirit Garden, a natural garden features crops of the 3 sisters: corn with its tall stalks planted at the back, beans next, using the corn stalks as support, and squash for groundcover to keep the weeds out and moisture in. These 3 vegetables are often cooked and served together in an Indigenous meal.

Satisfied with our tour of this new garden, we decided to explore the square a little further. Built in 1965, on land originally occupied by Chinese and Jewish immigrants, the square was named after former Mayor Nathan Phillips and placed adjacent to the new Toronto City Hall. In the northwest corner of the square a reflecting pool and eternal flame highlight a Peace Garden. A Henry Moore Sculpture has also resided here for over 60 years. A statue of Winston Churchill was added in 1977.

Around 2010 the city decided that a facelift was in order. A design concept, based on the ancient Greek “agora,” a large gathering place and market, led to the changes. A new restaurant with a rooftop patio replaced the old skate shack. Now it’s an updated eatery beside the skating rink, which features a colourful Toronto sigh, installed during the 2015 Pan Am Games. One of the Freedom Arches above the rink contains a piece of the Berlin wall at its base.

In the centre of the square a new stage was built to replace the temporary structures used for concerts and special events. This stage area, referred to as the Podium, has a “green” roof and feels very open and welcoming.

In fact, the entire area of Nathan Phillips Square feels welcoming. Whether you are a politician, a skater, a concert-goer, a Raptors fan, a shopper, a tourist, or an Indigenous person, there is a place for you there.

Sue

Your Tuesday Smile

Another Tuesday has rolled around. So yesterday I checked my calendar to see what exciting things Peter and I have been doing over the past week that I could tell you about. And possibly make you smile.

We have our grand dog Venus here all week as her parents put their house up for sale: cleaning carpets, staging furniture and having showings. So far there have been no offers. Venus follows me around, from kitchen to bathroom to laundry room, hinting that she wants to play ball outside. I throw the ball and she, a senior in dog years, catches it and then lies down for a nap.

Venus naps while I wait…

Meanwhile the house next door has been finished and gone on the real estate market for 5 million dollars. (Well it does have a car elevator, you know). There have been no showings that we have seen, but more important than that; there has been No Open House! How unfair is that for neighbours like us who have been watching this jagged structure grow into a behemoth for over 3 years? Now we don’t even get to see inside??

The house next door.. by appointment only.

The curling season began this past week and only 3 of my team members showed up. The 4th one had Covid. We sweated and struggled our way up and back on the ice for 6 ends, and lost by one point. My fitness classes also began and the new teacher is a tyrant. “Don’t walk, run! Jumping Jacks – Faster! Weights: only wimps use the 2-pound ones! No time to waste! Do you really Need a water break?”

The gardening season has come to an end and the only produce Peter brings me now are green tomatoes, bok choy with holey leaves from insect attacks, and squash with large mouthfuls missing. The begonias and geraniums have been bitten by frosty nights and the leaves are turning brown.

Green tomatoes and frost-bitten leaves

I had a dentist appointment for a rather large cavity, beginning with a painful anesthetic needle. Then I had to order a new mouth guard for grinding teeth. I had a doctor’s appointment to renew prescriptions. Her patient before me had a big issue and I waited quite a while, without the novel I was reading, which I had left in the car.

In the news: hurricanes and floods batter the winter holiday destination of Americans. The politics of our neighbours to the south continue to be surreal: Trump slurring his words, dancing on stage for 39 minutes, calling his opponent a cat lady, while she can’t seem to get an edge with the black population. Meanwhile, in our own country, several of Trudeau’s MP’s are anxious to dump him for… whom?

Was this a good week, all things considered? Honestly, when I look back at my week, and compare my situation to other places in the world, problems and issues pale in comparison. So I’m going to step outside, take in a breath of fresh fall air, have a look at the gorgeous trees. And smile! I hope you can do the same.

Sue