For the past few months our neighbourhood in the city has been quiet. Gently falling snow has muffled the sounds of cars, and pedestrians walking their dogs have hurried quietly along, stopping only briefly to stoop and scoop. Our back yard has been silent too. The chatty squirrels have been hibernating and birds have found food elsewhere. Snow has built in little hills, covering our gardens and shrubs, muting any sounds of rustling leaves.

Until recently! Last week I looked out the front door and there was a policeman on his horse clomping down our winding neighbourhood street. I hurried outside with my phone and he stopped, realizing that he was about to be in a Kodak moment. I took advantage and we exchanged small talk about the beautiful sunny day. Spring was on the way!

Next we saw cardinals, two bright red males, taking turns testing out our bird bath. It still had a thin sheen of ice on top and they decided to postpone their baths. Surely, they pondered, they didn’t smell that bad! And there were no females around, anyway. Not yet.

Then, a few days ago, my husband Peter saw a red fox trotting along, a bounce in his step. He didn’t say where he was going, but we guessed he had love on his mind. The days were getting longer and he was getting friskier. With no access to the internet, he was relying on his own courting methods.

But the best day so far was yesterday. As I drove into the driveway from a trip to the grocery store, Peter called to me from the front door. “Put your groceries down, grab your phone, and sneak into the sun room.” There in our city back yard were three deer. Yes THREE! We hadn’t ever had that many all at once in our country home of half an acre. These deer seemed quite comfortable, wandering around, smelling, scrounging, and surveying. Then they discovered something delicious under our pine tree at the back.

While they were occupied, Peter snuck out and threw some carrots and lettuce near the back door. Maybe he could entice them to come closer for a better photo opportunity. We waited. One came out from behind the pine tree and walked towards us. As she passed the shed window boxes, she got distracted by the withered geranium leaves and started nibbling. Peter was desperate to rush out and tell her about the virtues of the Sunnyland Produce he had offered.

After a while, the treasures of our back yard had been fully explored and the three deer found comfortable places to settle down for their afternoon naps. They stayed in our back yard, sleeping and wandering, until after it was dark and we had to abandon our look-out spots. This morning they are gone; and Peter is thinking about where to find hay and a salt lick, just in case they come back…

This week I had been planning to write about a blockbuster piece of theatre we saw recently. But when nature calls, you have to follow!

Sue

Life at home has changed a lot since the new year arrived. We have a new tenant. She lives mostly in the kitchen, but consumes next to nothing. She doesn’t speak except when spoken to. She never goes out, preferring to stay connected inside. Her name is Alexa.

Alexa arrived in a box under the Christmas tree. I wasn’t even sure what the box was at first; possibly an electronic frame for showing our photos. We have a ton of photos from our travels, but they are in albums in the basement. Every once in a while we get nostalgic and wonder aloud, “Remember that great trip to Spain? When was that? Where did we stay? Who went with us?” Then we make the trip down to the basement and spend an hour or more rummaging around for the album so we can reminisce. This electronic frame could be quite handy.

Anyway, we eventually got around to opening the box and saw the word. Alexa. Oh no! We had heard stories about this woman who takes control of people’s lives. In a state of near panic, we called our son Daniel. Should we really DO this? Do we really NEED this? He spoke to us reassuringly. Then he came over and hooked her up. He showed us a few tricks and then left us…all alone…with HER.

We tiptoed past her in the kitchen and went to sit in the living room. It was a stand-off. We listened…there was nothing. Finally, our curiosity got the best of us and we tiptoed back. We asked a simple question. “Alexa, what is today’s weather?” Her voice was calm and reassuring as she gave us the forecast. She seemed very polite! hmmm. Maybe we should ask her something else…

We carried on for the rest of the afternoon asking questions and giving instructions. “Alexa find us a recipe for split pea soup.” She listed the ingredients and gave us the directions. I envisioned my cookbooks all heading out the door. This could make our lives much simpler. “Alexa, whose birthday is it today?” She named several US presidents and celebrities. Oops – did we have an American living with us? “Alexa, show us our photos of Spain.” pause…”You haven’t uploaded them yet, you dummies!” No, I’m kidding. What she said was: ” Sorry, I can’t find photos of Spain.” Very polite.

Then Peter got an inspired idea. Music! “Alexa, play Arrivederci Roma!” Alexa must have some Italian genes mixed in with her American heritage because there was Claudio Villa singing while Peter and I danced around the fridge. Then our 8-year-old grand daughter Agnes came to visit and wanted to meet our new kitchen guest. She said, “Alexa, play Frozen.” Music filled the room. Agnes was distraught. “Alexa not That Frozen! Play Frozen TWO!” Soon Agnes was singing along.

Since displaying her incredible musical knowledge, Alexa has become part of our family. When we say, “Alexa, good morning,” she replies with “Good morning. Today is a beautiful day. The weather is sunny and mild.” When we tire of her music and tell her to stop, she says “Good bye. Have a nice evening.” No arguing. No sulking. No insults. The perfect guest.

At first we had some security concerns. Once, when we were talking quietly together near the sink, Alexa inserted herself into our conversation without being invited. We turned around and stared at her. Was she getting a little Too comfy with us? We grabbed her instruction booklet and figured out how to turn off the mic and the camera. Now we only turn her on when we want her in our lives.

We never thought our lives would come to this: treating an electronic device as almost human. But sometimes you have to give in; to admit that, without staying in touch with technology, your photo albums will all go moldy, your CD player will be obsolete, and you will be left far far behind.

Sue

PS Alexa did not want her photograph included.

Winter has been with us for almost 3 months and not once in all that time have I written about Health. We seniors like to talk about our health often. But I have held off, partly because we have had lots of health-related material on TV, radio and in print, with the threat of the Coronavirus in the news at least hourly.

Despite my failure to report, there has been some activity in our lives. My husband Peter and I have both been pretty healthy so far but, after we moved to the city and got new doctors, we had to go through several tests to see if we were still alive.

For my first round, the doctor wanted me to do a bone density test. The equipment for this test is expensive and I was warned that I would be paying a $200 charge if I didn’t show up for my appointment on time. I checked google maps and found out that my trip to the diagnostic centre would be pretty short – north a bit and then east over a river, north a couple more blocks and then east again. Twenty minutes max.

As I began the drive north, my mind wandered somewhere else and I missed the first east turn. I continued north searching for another way to cross the river. Then I had to go farther east than planned, to get through some subway construction, all the time checking my watch. Then I turned south and landed in the middle of a road closure. Finally I turned west to make up for going too far east, still thinking of my lost $200. I arrived at the diagnostic centre just as the nurse was calling my name. Good thing she wasn’t testing for blood pressure!

Next, I was sent to a local clinic for both blood work and a bladder ultrasound. I booked the first appointment for 11:30 one morning. On the day before the appointments I was called and reminded not to eat or drink Anything before the blood test: no breakfast, not even coffee! Oh no, this would be a huge sacrifice! I hid under the covers until 11:00, then threw on my clothes and ran to the clinic.

Several vials of blood later, I was released from the first appointment, starving. The nurse told me to go and eat lunch and drink a LOT because I needed a full bladder for the ultrasound pictures. She laughingly suggest that a pint of beer might be good. So what else was I to do? I went to the pub next door and ordered a cheeseburger with large fries and a pint of Stella. After all that of course I needed to go to the bathroom. Badly.

Instead I went back to the clinic, settled myself onto the examining table for the picture taking, crossed my legs, and tried not to think about toilets. The technician came into the room, adjusted the camera and began pushing on my bladder! And pushing and pushing. And saying “Wow! These are Great Pictures!” Meanwhile I was squeezing my legs together, nearing the desperation point. Finally she released me and I bolted down the hall to the bathroom. Just in time.

I went back to my doctor for the test results; all positive. But those were the only tests the doctor wanted. Really? Nothing else? She didn’t want a colonoscopy or a mammogram? At first I was relieved not to have to go through all that cleaning and squeezing; then I began to think…why? Why don’t I need to have these tests any more? Is it that, at our age, nobody cares if we get some polyps?

Honestly, when it comes to our health, sometimes the best thing to do is just wash your hands and focus on being alive. Go ahead – go to a pub and order that cheeseburger.

Sue

PS No, there are No pictures of me being examined. Instead, a photo from one of our readers who admits she escapes each winter, to Montserrat.

A few weeks ago a cardboard box full of food appeared on our front doorstep. Had the neighbours seen my husband Peter buying produce at Sunnyland’s bargain prices and decided we were hungry?

Actually it was Goodfood! delivery service, a Christmas gift from our son Daniel and his wife Jenny. They said it was a thank-you for all the meals they have eaten at our house. We were hesitant at first, not knowing what we were getting into. But then we checked out the menu choices and began to salivate over Seared Scallops with Brown Butter Tomatoes over Home-made Pasta. We feasted our eyes on the picture of Spice-Crusted Haddock with Toasted Pepitas and Sweet Potatoes. The coming weeks were going to be a never-ending banquet!

On the first Monday morning at 8:00 am we collected our box from the front door. Like little kids on their birthdays, we tore open the box and examined all the fresh vegetables, the little packages of spices, the tiny bottles of sauce, and the trays of meat and fish. Then we found the first recipe, two full pages of pictures and instructions.The enormity of our task began to dawn on us. Should I start cooking right away? Or maybe we should just put the box back on the porch and hope somebody else would take it.

I held off until late afternoon. Then I began to chop, zest, blanche, trim, sauté, and look for an oven-proof pan. Oops! A slight modification required. Finally, after about an hour of frantic activity, we sat down to Skillet-Roasted Lemon Chicken with Golden Potatoes and Tomato Kale Hash. Delicious! We eagerly scanned the recipe for the next night.

And so the weeks passed. Some recipes required more work than others, some had new ingredients like motto costo (even Peter the Italian had not heard of that), some needed extra utensils such as chop sticks or special knives. There was a lot of packaging to recycle. But, all in all, we enjoyed every creation. I did have one worry, though. How could we ever invite Daniel for dinner again and serve plain old spaghetti? At the very least I’d have to toast some pine nuts to sprinkle on top.

After our Goodfood adventure was over, we began to look elsewhere for another culinary experience. We discovered Winterlicious! We found over 200 restaurants offering this dining opportunity during two weeks in the city. The trick was to narrow down the choices using the filters provided on the website: area of the city, kind of food, lunch or dinner, price. After all, how many restaurant meals can you eat in two weeks?

For our outing Peter and I decided to combine our meal with another adventure – the Ice Fest in Yorkville. We anticipated a few small, half-melted sculptures. Instead we found a park full of very professional pieces of ice art. The 80’s theme was represented by 80’s technology: a cassette tape, boombox, pacman game, robots and ET. Some 80’s heroes stood nearby: Terry Fox tall and strong on his wooden leg, Elton John and Madonna not far away. All the pieces were etched in fine detail.

In among the ice sculptures were a few food options, such as maple syrup taffy, kettle corn, soft crepes. But we moved on to Sassafraz, an upscale restaurant well-known for attracting celebrities. Our three-course lunch was outstanding; tasty and beautifully presented. We didn’t spot any movie stars but the service was excellent. Every time we looked up, a waiter was replacing our “used” cutlery and glasses with clean ones.

When we got home, we settled back into our usual food routines: scouring through grocery store flyers for bargains, cooking up leftovers into batches of minestrone soup, and sneaking in the occasional trip to COSTCO for a hot dog. It’s OK though, because soon it will be time to uncover the BBQ and plant the zucchini.

Sue

No, not a furry wrap, (although that would come in handy), but the expression filmmakers use when they have finished filming a lengthy, sometimes difficult, production. The expression might describe the delight we feel from knowing that this cold, dark month is now behind us and we only have to get through February before we can start thinking about Spring.

My January blog posts covered several ways to pass the time in the winter: visiting indoor gardens, curling, shopping, and sleeping. And you, dear readers, have responded with comments. Two of you suggested other indoor tropical places we might visit during a cold day. Allan Gardens downtown has a similar kind of setting to the Centennial Conservatory I described. But this location comes with a warning to beware of pick-pockets in the area, which could add a whole different level of excitement to a boring winter. Another reader mentioned the Zoo, which has some cozy tropical pavilions inhabited by birds, reptiles and small mammals. For a reminder that winter is still around, there is the polar bear exhibit too.

Responses to the shopping post are what we might expect. The women described varying degrees of delight, from mild to hysterical, with the idea of high-end shopping, wine glass in hand. But only one male reader was brave enough to respond, admitting in print that, although he finds the experience exhausting, his wife LIVES for shopping.

The curling post elicited one response from a reader whose dad curled for over 40 years in several different clubs, which goes to show that curling is a life-long sport. Then there was the comment from our son who realized from the picture that he covets his father’s curling hat and hopes it will be part of his inheritance. Now I guess we’ll have to have it appraised.

The post that got the most response was the one about sleeping. A number of readers admitted having trouble getting their eight hours. One couple had had a bad Monday night, just before getting up to read the post. I hope they found comfort in knowing that this is a widespread problem for people over 65. Another reader said that the idea of a nap before visiting the LCBO is definitely a good idea – it would allow us to make calm choices/purchases instead of desperate ones. Two other readers recommended cures – chamomile tea or edible cannabis. Take your pick. February could be much better if you’re high!

Here is another suggestion for February – creative writing. This idea is based on the response from one reader who had seen an article on the difference between “junior seniors” and “senior seniors.” He got creative and developed his own list of categories. Here are a few of his choices: Crumbly at 70, Slapdash at 80, Ridged at 85, Aimless at 90. So, how about it? Got anything better to contribute?

Finally there are the readers who just give up on winter and escape to somewhere warm. You know who you are. Hello to everyone hiding in Arizona, Aruba, Australia, Florida, Hawaii, Mexico, Montserrat, New Zealand, and South America. Send us some pictures!!

Or maybe not…

Sue

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On a recent family outing to a shopping mall, our two young grandsons disappeared. While the moms were busily comparing sofas in a furniture store, the boys silently wandered off. When their moms realized this, they were worried sick, imagining their “babies” lured away by a stranger’s promise of free ipads. Both mothers had forgotten that Ben and Gavin are experts at hide and seek.

Ben takes his role of hiding very seriously; he learned well from his older cousin. So when Gavin yelled “ready or not!” Ben ran in zig zag fashion down several aisles and then popped into a dining room buffet cupboard. He settled in and waited comfortably while the moms, and later the store clerks, travelled up and down the aisles calling “Ben Ben!” Eventually a clerk thought to check the buffet cupboard. Ben delightedly jumped out, yelling “BOO!” as the clerk fell backwards in shock.

Ben and Gavin are victims of the shopping craze that has taken over our social lives. This is especially true in January when people are looking for a diversion in a warm place. Women call it retail therapy. We walk miles, change clothes several times, spend lots of money, and then sit down with a coffee while we consider what purchases to return. If our husbands laugh at this unusual behaviour, they are invited to come along. Once in the store, they look for a comfortable chair, and sit down to read the newspaper in peace, saying “Take your time, dear.”

Women who are fashion shopping have a lot of choice. We can go to a consignment store which carries brand-name clothes previously worn by actors and TV personalities. The clothes are usually packed into small spaces with low ceilings and high prices. But who minds paying $200 for a sweater if it was maybe worn by Celine Dion? Then there are stores such as Value Village where customers can pretend to donate something, while checking out the merchandise. All you have to do is dig, dig dig through all the heaps. There could be something really valuable at the bottom, as long as you don’t fall in and suffocate.

Or you can go to a big mall. Shopping malls these days come in many varieties. There are high-end malls with valet parking, guards at the entrances, and even car dealerships in case the car breaks down on the way there. Then there are family-centered malls with Lego stores, large food courts, and play areas. For the really adventurous there are destination malls, like the one out west, with a water park, mini-golf, skating rink, and bowling. Just imagine how long a woman could shop there, knowing her husband was so well taken care of!

Modern shopping has come a long way since the olden days when women sometimes wore white gloves to visit large department stores. Shopping was a big occasion. I recall a highlight of my childhood – going Christmas shopping with my friend Libby when we were about 10 years old. We would diligently walk up and down the main street of our small town, trying to decide what to buy for each family member on our list. After we had made our purchases, we would go to the Diana Sweets for a cherry coke. We felt SO grown up. It was the beginning of a life-long addiction.

But shopping today has changed a lot. The Eaton’s catalogue business has been replaced by Amazon delivery. White gloves have given way to ripped jeans and hoodies. The special occasion is now our regular weekend activity. And store marketing departments spend a lot of time trying to find a niché or a gimmick to attract our attention and our shopping dollar.

I discovered recently that Nordstrom has the latest answer. A customer can go to her local store, find the in-store restaurant, and order a glass of wine. After paying, the customer is free to wander through every department while sipping her chardonnay. The Nordstrom marketing team say their aim is to making shopping a “fun experience” for their customers.

Surely this is the way to polish off the month of January!

Sue

Yes you can curl up with a good book in January. The months will pass, and you will be a well-read blimp by April. OR

Try curling! My husband Peter hoodwinked me into trying this sport when we first met. He took me to a very posh dining room at the Weston Golf (and curling) Club for our first date. It was fancy. Plus we had lots to talk about. Soon he was escorting me down to the change rooms…to change into our curling clothes of course. What else were you thinking?

I liked curling from the beginning. It’s easy for a novice to grasp the essentials and play at an acceptable level. But there are lots of strategies and skills that one can learn, and win prizes, if serious playing is the goal. And curling is a very social sport. There is an unwritten rule that, after each game, the winners buy the losers a drink. We sit around a table, with our drinks and potato chips, and spend a very pleasant hour chatting. And soon it’s Spring!

We made a lot of friends at Weston and things were going smoothly until the management decided one September that they wanted to use the curling rink space for a golf academy. The curlers were declared redundant. We gathered together to commiserate, to vent, and to share our disappointment. Then we scurried off to find other rinks where we could play. It was very late in the season to be registering and the choices were few.

But Peter and I had moved to the city and we had options. We were met with open arms at High Park Curling Club. We were easily accommodated into their Saturday night social league. The club is not as posh as Weston but it’s not elitist either. We no longer feel like rejects!

The curlers are a mix of all ages and all backgrounds. We can be sitting at a table sharing our drinks with millennials, gen-Xers, and a few old geezers like ourselves, all at the same time. The conversation can range from hobbies, to work projects, to music. We try really hard to keep up and even learn new things. For example, did you know that The Weekend is more than just two days? It’s a Canadian pop rock band!

Rarely does the conversation focus on illness, doctor appointments or sleeping problems. Hardly ever does one person ask another person to please speak louder. People talk about the latest food trends, or current events or exercise routines. We follow along and add our opinion where we can. But, when the conversation turns to the latest technology, we start to yawn and put on our coats. There are just some things we oldies will never master.

The club is run entirely by volunteers. There are a number of committees which plan events, clinics, and parties. The Hallowe’en season is alive and well on the ice with background music of “Monster Mash” and “Ghostbusters” while we curl. At Christmas we all don our Santa hats and exchange tacky gifts that we got from an aging aunt whose relatives are cleaning out her condo. Then there are Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day where curlers search their closets for colourful curling pants with hearts or shamrocks. There is no end of entertainment!

The club was founded in 1911. The building is quite cozy and historic. The drive into the tiny parking lot is narrow, just like the ice sheets because, in this part of the city, land is expensive. Upstairs in the club a banquet room can be reserved for family gatherings. This facility is truly a family affair. And we feel lucky to be part of the High Park curling family. It may keep us young (and thin) forever.

Sue

One New Year’s resolution that people often make is to get more sleep. Medical research clearly shows that sleep helps with brain function and reduces the likelihood of that terrible disease that starts with “A.” Or it could be that January is so cold and dark, sleeping seems like the best thing to do. We can take our cue from bears: hibernate and dream of Spring.

But, as we age, sleep sometimes becomes difficult. Doctors know this and are quick to point it out. They help us create our bed-time routine: First, take your night-time pills, put on your wrinkle cream, and find your cozy socks. After that, brush your teeth and adjust your mouth guard. Then add your carpal tunnel wrist brace. Next hook up to your CPAP machine. Finally you are in bed. If you can’t fall asleep right away, get up and have a little brandy. Or go to a 24-hour drug store to purchase one of the sleep medications on the market with a cute name like sleep-ease. Ha

Lately the mattress industry has joined the conversation. Sleep County’s founder, Christine Magee, has competition. Have you noticed the underground rivalry between Casper and Endy? Ads in subway cars tell us that “Endy can be your new best friendy!” But Casper has puzzles for you to solve between stops. You can try one, below. If you can’t solve it, “sleep on it!” Then it will be “love at first night.”

Finding a place to nap in the afternoon is another consideration when we are old. If we’re at home, we can just settle into our favourite easy chair. (Ikea has one they call a “nap trap.”) But what if we are caught off guard, say in a restaurant after a big lunch? Can we just pay our bill and then slowly slide down in one of the booths, cover ourselves with our coat, and hope the waiter doesn’t notice? Or what about in a shopping mall? Chairs are often available, but they’re hard ones with arm rests and noisy children nearby. Difficult to grab a few winks there. As for park benches, too easy to slide off when they’re covered with ice in January.

BUT take heart because living in the city, I have discovered the answer! It’s a start-up company, the first in Canada, called Nap It Up! Sounds promising, doesn’t it? I decide that some research is in order. The location, hidden in a downtown mall, is a little tricky to find. After asking for directions from mall security, I walk down a back aisle past an LCBO, turn right and go to the far end, Ahead I can see the calming colours of soft mint beckoning me. My pace slows and I begin to relax.

Inside, I am greeted by friendly staff who invite me to take a look. The individual “rooms” are warm and welcoming. The beds have soft memory foam several inches deep, crisp sheets, thick pillows and furry blankets. The accessories include a bottle of water, a small safe for valuables, dim lighting. The entire area is infused with lavender and soft music. It’s all I can do to stay upright.

I resist, turn up the lights, and take a few pictures instead. I ask questions about price, which varies depending on the length of the nap. The cheapest nap is 25 minutes which doctors recommend, up to as long as 85 minutes. The service was designed for business people needing a short break in the afternoon. But it seems clear to me that we seniors are another needy group. We could all meet there every Wednesday, have a nap, and then go somewhere for coffee.

I thank the owners and head home to write about this great idea. On my way, I stop at the LCBO to buy a little brandy, just in case…

Sue

The parties are over, our friends and family have gone back to their regular lives, and the Christmas tree has been packed up, replaced by the leafless bougainvillea that usually blooms in the window. Here we sit, as sad as our naked plant, hiding under the comfy throw we got for Christmas…

NO! Let’s get out and Do something!

Living in the city, we have lots of choices. High Park has marvelous snowshoe trails winding through the woods. And sometimes a deer peeks out from behind the trees. But right now there is very little snow for such an adventure. City Hall has a large skating rink with wobbly skaters like me. But I haven’t tried my skates on in years and the leather is likely stiff from lack of use. There are several places to walk in the city, on sidewalks or paths, including cemeteries. Or maybe not. Maybe something a little cheerier. An indoor garden perhaps?

We decide to visit the Centennial Conservatory. We get into the car and Peter programs the address into our GPS. She is named Shirley because Shirley/Surely she will get us where we want to go. Well, Peter thinks so anyway. I am a little skeptical because Shirley is a woman of few words. Sometimes we get very close to a corner before Shirley tells us to turn.

After a few near misses, we arrive at our destination, a greenhouse in the middle of a brown field which is a park in the summer. We hurry through the biting winds into the entrance, and are greeted by the sweet fragrance of hyacinths, pots and pots of them. Around the corner are tell-tale signs of Christmas: poinsettias in varying hues of reds and pinks. A few lighted deer and some bright red amaryllis carry on the season.

The greenhouse has several visitors. Little children run around aimlessly, delighted to be free from snowsuits and boots. Parents follow along with their coffee, equally delighted to have found some winter indoor activity. An older adult sits on a bench in a corner, engrossed in a book. A couple smiles for a photographer, possibly practising for a wedding in their future.

The centre of the greenhouse is a tropical jungle with huge palm trees and birds of paradise. We see a tangerine tree, a reminder of sunny Florida where we sometimes escape to in winter. As we wander along, we spot a pond with large orange koi, some with white heads, some with spots, all of them swimming around contentedly. Occasionally they bob up to the surface with open mouths, hoping a visitor will throw a crumb of food their way.

In a room on the right we find ourselves in a desert surrounded by cacti – more varieties than we can count. They are spikey, fluffy, fuzzy, round, tall, flowery, succulent, even phallic. The greens range from jade to sage, to olive, even lime. The plants have ingenious names like “candelabra tree” or “felt bush,” and little signs for little kids, saying “Don’t touch! Painful!”

In the section on the left we come across more poinsettias, a whole field of them, bright and cheery. We notice some electric candles on poles, which suggest that an evening visit here might be fun. In the centre are a couple of red-bowed deer, created entirely with oak leaves. A sign informs us that the Christmas displays will change next week. It seems that Spring will come early to the greenhouse.

After an hour or two we have seen everything and our senses have had their fill. We head back to the car, hoping that Shirley can help us find our way home. But our spirits have been lifted and we are ready to face more of January. Maybe we’ll even help out our bougainvillea with a shot of fertilizer.

If you have an idea on how or where to beat the January blahs, post a comment.

Sue

The reds and greens of Christmas have turned to the gold and silver of that annual celebration – New Year’s Eve. Living in the city now, we have discovered that celebrating is more expensive and far busier than celebrating in the country. Many people our age just stay home, trying to stay awake until past 10:00, and working on their New Year’s resolutions. This year I’ve been thinking about abandoning the standard “eat less and exercise more” routine and trying out a new one: conquering Technology. I’m not sure I can do it; at the mere sound of this word I begin to hyperventilate.

Before we retired, my husband Peter and I were school administrators. Every working day people would ask us for help in solving problems. “How do I fix this?” “What plan will help me deal with that?” We knew the answers. We were In Charge. We walked the halls of our schools carrying our Blackberrys with Authority!

When we retired, we abandoned those menacing devices, planning for an uncomplicated life where we could go to the bathroom in peace. Instead we found a different scene entirely. Our Blackberrys are gone but in their place are ipads and smartphones. We were pretty good at sending emails, but now email is replaced by texting. We figured out facebook and now it’s instagram. We are confronted with learning a whole new language: algorithms, memes, cookies, search engines, hotspots, GIF’s, and on and on. And out trusty Webster’s dictionary – no help at all.

No longer can we make a simple phone call to order tickets for a show; we have to go online, remember which password to use, and hurry to fill out all the fields before our session times out. We are encouraged to do all our banking online, but heaven help us if we misplace a zero. In restaurants and even hospitals we are asked for our cellphone number so somebody can text us when our table or stretcher is ready.

We especially noticed this steep learning curve on Christmas Day. I had asked Peter to buy me a new Fitbit to replace one I had lost. I figured I had experience from my old model and would just plug the Fitbit into my laptop and download the app. But the cord didn’t fit anywhere and there was NO instruction booklet. I couldn’t even get started! Fortunately our techie kids arrived and explained that the cord was for charging the device and then the app could be downloaded through the magic of Bluetooth. I watched in awe as the smartphone and the Fitbit sat side by side on the couch, sharing data.

Next, we began our traditional Secret Santa gift exchange. The first few gifts were safe ones: beer and nuts, LED candles with only an on-off switch, toilet paper with Donald Trump’s face on each square. Then someone unwrapped a Google Nest. The giver explained to us that this device is like Alexa, the electronic know-it-all who sits on a coffee table and runs your house. After that, it was our turn to choose – either the Google Nest or a bagged gift that appeared to be a throw: a cozy blanket that we could nap under during those long cold January days. No installation app required. Well I don’t even have to tell you which one we reached for, do I?

As 2019 draws to a close, I hope you will welcome 2020 with some New Year’s resolutions that are achievable; resolutions that will give you comfort during the new year.

And I thank you, dear readers, for your response to my blog. In just over 6 months, more than 50 dedicated followers and many more occasional readers have figured out enough technology to join me on Tuesday mornings and share stories. My wish for all of us is this: a new year filled with the joy we find together in the little miracles of our lives, no matter where we are.

Sue