Posted in General, humor, humour

A Walk on the Rectangular Side

So there above you have it: since I have been self-isolating, about 4 pm most afternoons, you will find me walking the rectangular deck in the photo.

I don’t walk every day, but today I started at a couple of minutes after four in the afternoon with 1,100 steps on my pedometer. I walked for 25 minutes and 1,900 steps, giving me a total of 4,000.

Can I say I walked around our deck? I don’t think so, as it is rectangular, so I rectangularised our deck? How about, I walked rectangularily? Although I usually walk using my Nordic poles on a trail or along our road, being a bit of the lazy type, if I walk on the deck, I don’t have to lace on walking shoes, I can walk in my slippers. Oh, my Chiropractor won’t like that – but they do have hard soles, Andrew.

And while walking rectangularily, what do I think of? First in my mind is the Nordic pole instruction to hold your head up. Do not look at the ground ahead of you. On our trails that can lead to stepping on horse dung, but it’s nowhere near as sticky or messy as dog poop. You can even pick the balls up and throw them like snowballs at targets in the hedge so the next poler won’t step on them. Anyway, no horses on our deck. Although some might think there is an ass rectangularising.

Next, looking straight ahead, I see the trees separating us from our neighbour to the north. And I can hear the tchk, tchk of the black-capped Chichadees, giving me a good telling off for preventing them from coming to the feeders. So, I turn right and see some azaleas and our rhododendrons. Oh, they are not in bloom yet, but I have looked at the buds and know it will be a brilliant display – like these pictures of azaleas and rhodies from last year.

Some time in late November or early December, after hurricane season and I can be sure of no more wind damage, I wander around, yes, around, the rhododendron bushes – almost trees after forty years of growth, adding one or two little plants each year – and I check how many buds are on them. In the Spring, there is nothing more beautiful than witnessing all those buds bursting out of their winter hiatus.

Then I make another turn right and see the ocean and islands as shown in the featured pic at the top of this post. Pretty bleak, isn’t it? Not even a fishing boat out there. Who can blame the fishers? Fishers? Oh, yes, in this day of me too, you never know who will be on that boat you can see. In days of yore, it would always be men or boys on board, but today it could as easily be women and girls. Or it could be a mix of genders.

And that’s what I could be thinking as I continue my walk. Or, it could be making up drivel like this,
I wonder as I wander my rectangled deck
how birds at the feeders go peck after peck
and empty my feeders and bank account too
yet I love them and ne’er want to bid them adieu.

My, how low have you sunk, I think to myself, for dreaming up such stuff as I complete my 50th rectangle. (Could I sneak a word like circuit in instead of rectangle? Likely not or some smart Alec – and I know who he is and his name is not Alec – will come back to me saying circuit is a circular route that starts and finishes at the same place.) I reverse direction every 25 rectangles and I was surprised the first time I did that everything looks different. I don’t get to see the water as well; I see parts of my neighbour’s house through a thick barrier of trees; I get to see my reflection in the door to the sun room. What a sight, that is! The wind has been blowing my extra long hair and I look like a creature out of Harry Potter.

My mind also does a turn-around as I find myself saying, 50 in 16 minutes, that’s lets’ see…. Oh, I don’t want that, I want to know how many paces in one rectangle. So, it’s the number of paces divided by the number of rectangular walks. Or is it how many minutes in an hour? See how my mind shifts? No, it’s nineteen hundred divided by fifty…….hmm, there are two fifties in a hundred and I have nineteen hundred, so double nineteen. Hmm, after a moment or two, thirty-eight.

Having solved that immense problem in my brain – wow, I still have one – what do I do with the answer. Answer: absolutely nothing. The answer is useless information which may just exacerbate the fact that my brain is retaining less and less because the storage room is diminishing.

Fifty-one, I say, as I pass go and do not collect a parking ticket; fifty-two I say; and a few seconds later, fifty-three. I see the crow waiting for me to go inside. I know he hates me. Even when I have been somewhere in the car and return to the parking lot, he sits on top of one of the tallest conifers and squawks at me. He thinks I hate him. He’s known me now for nigh on twenty years. Perhaps he’s right: I don’t hate him. Perhaps I just dislike the way he tugs on the large feeder and shakes it to make the seeds fall on the ground. And I don’t mind that too much, for the pheasants get to feed. But, he goes on and on until I chase him off.

I did 75 rectangulations today. It’s not a lot, nowhere near as far as when I am on the trail or road, but it is half an hour and it is almost two thousand steps. It kept me interested and discovering sights and sounds in my immediate vicinity. And I didn’t have to be aware of animal poop.

Adieu until next From time to time,,,,

Posted in General, humor, humour, Uncategorized

Oh, dear! Self-Isolating!

So, let’s start with a light-hearted story.

It had been snowing and we had been out shopping – oh, yes, this was before, what does Trump call it, the Chinese Disease? How ignorant! No, he’s changed to the Invisible Disease. Before COVID-19, anyway.

Not only had it been snowing, it had rained on the snow and then frozen some of it into ice. That slippery substance.

We got out of the car, not together: My Beloved out of her side and I out of mine. I said across the top of the car, be careful and follow in my footsteps. So, we edged towards the trunk which was open and had bags of foodstuffs – reusable bags, not plastic ones. Sobey’s nowadays has no plastic bags in the store, so you have to use your own. Reminds me of going shopping with my Mum before WWII where Mr. Fruen would cut some rashers of bacon off a slab, place it in a piece of newspaper and hand it to us to put into our bag.

I led the way very carefully across the icy patch where I could put one foot after another onto a patch of sand I had previously thrown down. The rain had melted some, however. Which again had refrozen, so it was a patchwork of sand patches. Hm! One step after another, I edged my way towards the steps where I could see safety, reminding My Beloved to step into the steps I had gone. I had almost reached the steps when a foot slipped and I couldn’t move forward or backward without fear of not only falling here, but sliding all the 50 metres down the driveway on my butt. I had done that on my front some years prior, much to the delighted chuckle of My Beloved. So, as I seemed to be temporarily stuck, My Beloved decided I was there in perpetuum. She tried to move around me, safe on her boots with spikes in the heels.

Nope! She was who ended up on her butt, sitting on wet ice, soaking up the water in her slacks. I must point out that My Beloved has knee and back issues which prevent her from getting up from the ground without support. I was the support.

Nope! I, or rather we, could not raise her from her decidedly cold, wet perch. Well, I said, there’s only one thing around here which will help. Silva, the car with the open trunk and rear-view camera. Oh, I had to shut the trunk on order to have the camera showing where I was going rather than up into the cloudy heavens.

So, I went back and put it into reverse and hoped the accelerator wouldn’t stick as I edged towards My Poor Beloved. And that the brake would work. Slowly, Silva backed up, even more slowly, as we approached the target. Well, perhaps that’s the wrong word: the supplicant, might be better. With her feet just about under the rear fender (bumper for you Brits), the brakes worked. Together, we were able to get her hands into the trunk and she could pull herself up. Then, by stepping very carefully on her spiky heels, she reached the steps and we got Silva unloaded and parked.

So you may be wondering what the featured pic is at the top of this post. One day, at the end of February a knock at the door meant the UPS man had brought a totally unexpected box. On opening it, we discovered all of the items shown: a bag of Liqorice Allsorts for Gramma, a Toblerone for Grampa, some caramels for both, two bags of seasonings, a jar of marmalade for both, I think, but it could have been for Grampa, and some photographs of her, ourselves with her, and a framed one with her between us. And additionally, a beautiful card telling us she had been passing by a store, went in and suddenly saw a number of items she knew would appeal to her grandparents. So she bought them, packed them and UPSed them. Out of the blue from a granddaughter – yes Cierra.
And we were so astonished we cried.

But, back to the present, two weeks ago, after shutting the door of the Commercial Enterprise Centre, where I volunteer, we went into self-isolation.

Actually, we have had lots of practice at this. For some forty years, our risk management consulting business has been run out of our home, so the two of us have worked very easily and satisfactorily side by side for all that time. We’ve never had an issue ending in a nasty argument. Reasonable discussion has always ended well. And we’ve never gone to bed without saying I love you – and meaning it. So, the only difference is that we cannot go out together and, say, shop. Or go to the theatre. Or go to church.

I say, only difference: however, it is not until the first two weeks have passed that we realise how large a difference it is. Previously, we have been able to go out together to shop, to the theatre, and to church. And to other places, like a friend’s place for dinner. One day, a week ago, it was Sunday, Saturday had been gorgeous, at least we Nova Scotians though it had been. It was; it was a pleasant eight degrees Celsius. So was Sunday. But the wind was strong and the anticipated pleasant walk along the beach would have been rather cold, so we sat in the car, opened the windows for fresh air – and fresh, or rather windy, it was – so My Beloved’s window got closed fairly quickly, and we took in the view from inside Silva.

Look at the beautiful blue sky in the photo; it looks so lovely. But the beach was empty except for a lady and her little child and they look huddled up. That didn’t surprise us. Nor you? Oh, you may see two others and a dog way down the beach. Certainly, those on the beach are maintaining their required 2-metre distance of separation.

I believe that only one person now is allowed to go out to get essentials, such as food or medicines, but we don’t: (a) for people of our age (87), it is much too lethal if you get it and (b) we order from the store, pay online, then, at an appointed time, go to the store and they put it in your trunk. So far, we’ve had to do this only once. Before we did that, a couple of friends had bought and delivered a few items, but we don’t ask them any more, as we consider it too dangerous for them to go to the store for us and we don’t want to put them in danger.

Yesterday, I phoned a large order of food at the Superstore and they have given me an appointment of Saturday, April 4th between 10 and 11am to drive to the curb and they will put the order in the trunk. Times are interesting. 

I have been taking the non-regular walk with my Nordic poles when weather allowed, say ‘Hi’ to the odd walker or dog-walker across the other side of the street, saying how sad it is we can’t stop and chat these days, and, two days ago, after returning, I took off my jacket, rolled up my sleeves and sat on the main deck in the sun for another good hour. This afternoon, I simply walked around the main deck 50 times, registering 1,600 paces in 15 minutes.

Also, I have been preparing a PowerPoint presentation for every Sunday service for four years now and, as we have now gone to on-line ZOOM, I am still preparing it for every Sunday, only it’s changed to Morning Prayer instead of Eucharist. If you’d like to join us, go to our web site http://www.stnicholasanglican.ca/virtual-church/ and click on the church at 9.30am Atlantic Daylight Savings. In the UK that would be 1.30pm and in San Francisco, 5.30am so, note the time difference.

Other volunteer work includes being Chair  (Beryl is the Treasurer) of a large Adult Literacy/Numeracy network and up until a few weeks ago, too, we were still busy with it. Not now: it is basically totally shut down, but at least one of our teachers is maintaining contact with students virtually. 

Although I didn’t like our Prime Minister Justin Trudeau when he was elected and though he has started employing shut-down and financial assistance somewhat, in my opinion, a bit late, I have been impressed recently both by the new emergency programs enacted and his daily conversations with the nation followed by answering of press questions outside his residence. An American friend recently told us that Canadian citizenship is a certainty now simply because of the way he has been handling the COVID-19 issue and his daily reports – particularly as compared to Mr. Trump. And as for the economy: it will recover. That’s my prediction having seen “Black Monday in October 1987, in 1994 and 1998; the Latin American, then the Asian currency crises, then during 2001-2003; the Tech Crash, and of course, 2007-2009; the global financial system meltdown” to quote from a financial advisor friend. All of those My Beloved and I rode and came through safely, so I still believe the economy will recover.

A really big event occurred two weeks ago, before we were self-isolating: My Beloved applied for and got her Blue card to hang in the windshield, so we can now park in the best spots. Large benefit for an unfortunate life-changing mobility issue, which she has dealt with without complaint for well over a year now.

Our dining-in has been very varied, for our freezer has been overly-stocked for ages and it is about time we started using some of our comestibles. A daughter and son-in-law, Tanis and Robb, buy us a whole lamb from an old school and military friend, Sharon, every year. So far, every year, anyway. No guaranties, I guess. So we still have a lot of Brutus left. But, for lunch, I will vary it from yogurt and unsalted roasted almonds or cashews to peanut butter and tomato sandwiches to the plate below.

Lunch: beefsteak tomato, a pickle, pickled dill carrots, jalapeno Monterey Jack cheese; banana for desert.

And with that, I bid you keep safe and free from the COVID-19. By the way, you did know how it was named by the WHO, didn’t you? Of course, you knew it was from coronavirus disease of 2019.

Blessings on you all.

Posted in Dining, General, humor, humour

I’m Retired

I’m retired – at least, I thought I was

When My Beloved and I finally retired, some few years ago, we thought we would be able to relax, take life at a more sedate pace, even lie in a little – not too long or we wouldn’t be able to do our exercises.

But, take this morning: I had set the alarm for 6.45am, so when the appointed minute arrived, my phone softly woke us. Up, out of bed, shave, bodily functions, shower, dress (that was easy, since I had left the clothes I had on for church yesterday ready for me to jump into), went downstairs to weigh myself and do some easy exercises on our Wii, had breakfast, made sure I had my laptop in my computer bag along with some papers I needed to work on………… hey! Stop right there!

I said I was retired, yet here I am taking some documents to work on. Work. Taking. Where am I going? Oh, to one of my volunteer jobs, at the Reception Desk of the local not-for-profit Commercial Enterprise Centre for four hours every Monday from 8.30am to 12.30pm. I also sometimes assist in another area of the CEC.

But, I also said I was taking some work with me. That’s because we still have one client for whom we provide risk management counsel and Monday mornings at CEC are notably quiet, so I am sometimes able to do real “work”. It keeps the grey cells working, too.

When I get home, it will be lunch time.
Then nap time.

This particular Monday, will be free the rest of the day, so I will do the PowerPoint presentation for next Sunday’s church service. That entails doing the whole service, including the hymns, which the Music Director will have given me, and finding interesting, often humourous, slides as openers and closers. Oh, yes, God has a sense of humour!

The third Monday of every month entails both My Beloved and me attending the church Finance Committee in the evening from 7pm to whenever, but our chair runs an efficient meeting and we can sometimes be away in less than an hour. And if you don’t believe God has a sense of humour, come to a Finance Committee meeting and listen to the discussions about the state of our church.

Tuesday, of course, starts off the same way, although, I admit we may be an hour later arising. I might have to make wine or box it, so that takes most of the morning. I box it, not bottle it: meaning I put the finished wine back into the large 7-litre bags in which the concentrate comes, attach a tap and stuff the bag of wine back into the box in which it came. Oh, it’s much easier than having to wash and sterilise bottles, which, before I became wise, I used to do.

Then comes lunch, but no nap, for this Tuesday, it is our regular Adult Literacy Board meeting, of which I am Chair and My Beloved is Treasurer. Both of us for one more year. 20 years of that is enough and two people are prepared to take on these duties. For the next couple of hours, I try to keep eight or so people, each with his or her individuality, on the Agenda. It’s really strange how quickly we can get sidetracked, sometimes with totally extraneous issues, such a have you tried the new restaurant?Nevertheless, they are a great group of people who become friends over a period of time – and the occasional item of business does get attended to. So, a couple of hours later, back home to get dinner.

Wednesday starts the same way, but we have to get out for My Beloved’s appointment with our family doctor at 9.30am. She’s a hoot and we love visiting her. She is excellent as a doctor, just the very best, but we love the humour with which she is endowed – often at our expense.

After seeing the doc, we drive to the Bulk Barn. Oh, you can spend a complete day there looking at all the different flours, nuts, seasonings, spices, pastas, pastas with no wheat, candies, chocolates, chips and crackers for dipping, dried fruits……..
After we pick up our items, we head for home and lunch. And nap.

Thursday, after the usual program, we head to the chiropractor for adjustments and some bone-cracking. He is very good and we invariably feel our spines are still able to keep us up and walking. Speaking – or writing, rather – about walking, a week or so ago I bought a pair of Nordic Pole walkers and I have found that they are really, really good, once you get the hang of planting each pole alongside the opposite foot. Going up hill is much easier now.

Normally, choir practice would be in the evening, but as our church is putting on two weekends of 3-course dinner theatre, they are rehearsing every day of the week, so no practice . We were told yesterday that performances this Saturday, next Friday and Saturday are totally sold out; only this Friday’s opening night has some seats left.

So, now we get to Friday. Every Friday morning when I do not have another appointment, I attend a Friday morning sort of prayer and book club. It’s fun and we get into all sorts of discussions, most having little to do with the book we have been reading. Sort of like the Board Meeting on Tuesday. Quite often on Friday afternoon, after lunch and nap, we do our weekly grocery shopping, spending all that hard-earned money the government is so generous to give us oldagers – sic with sarcasm.

This coming Saturday, we have volunteered to get to church by 9am to prep the meal for the dinner theatre show that evening. I know I will be spud-bashing, as we used to call it in the RAF, peeling and cutting potatoes. And maybe peeling and cutting carrots in preparation for putting them in the food processor. But it comes with lots of fun and laughter, so it’s a very enjoyable time.

Then lunch and nap. Maybe a long nap. Yes.

Some Saturdays, we go to the theatre, the Neptune, as excellent a professional theatre as one can see anywhere. And, as we always choose the matinee performance, after that, we go and eat. Yum!

Sunday, of course, means we have to get to church to sing in the choir by 9.30am and afterwards, we get together for coffee and nibblies. Then, if you like, you can stay and sit to discuss some bible reading. We don’t like, so we skedaddle. I guess we may pay for that in the next world!

And that’s our week.

Except this past week, we had to go to visit our last and only client in Prince Edward Island (one of our three Maritime provinces). So, that took from Tuesday noon to Thursday late afternoon.

However, some of my fans have been asking about food and telling me I haven’t given any descriptions recently. Well, no, because there haven’t been any posts recently. The last one before this was w—a—a—a—a–y back in mid-July of this year.

So, here’s how we fared with our client last Wednesday evening at a restaurant in Charlottetown called the The Brickhouse Kitchen.

My Beloved and I arrived first, having walked from the hotel in which we were staying, so we chose our seats at the back of the booth and immediately ordered a Pinot Grigio. “Sorry, madam, but we seem to be out of that. ” We jokingly said, well the liquor store is immediately around the corner. Some of our guests arrived and one also would have liked the Pinot Grigio. However, she chose the same as My Beloved, a Spanish white Verdejo. Minutes later one of our guests saw a fellow carrying four bottles of wine crossing the street and into the restaurant. I guess they took us at our word.

Me? Well, you know I would not grace myself with a white, so I ordered a bottle of Argentinian Don David Malbec, after checking they had at least one other bottle in reserve.

We had a shared calamari platter for all of us, one guest having Chowder, My Beloved had half Caesar Salad and blue mussels (obviously PEI mussels); another guest had a Scallop paella; and another the Steak and Fritz; and I, the Salmon Carpacci as a starter followed by the Special of the day, bacon wrapped scallops with brisket and one of the most delicious meat sauces I have ever had the pleasure of tasting, a dish another of our guests also had and she declared it excellent.

Bacon-wrapped scallops and Brisket
Steak and Fritz



And how did we get back to the hotel? One of our lovely guests gave us a ride back, with me in the back seat along with the baby seat.



But, if that is retirement, then it is definitely not quite what a large Life Insurance Company used to imply when advertising Freedom 55.
But I love it.

Bon appétit – for food and retirement!

Posted in General, humor, humour

Teddy Bears

Of course you have a Teddy Bear. Don’t be ashamed to admit that somewhere in your house is that wonderful little bear someone gave you soon after you were born.

Is the bear in the basement in some old box? Or even in the attic? I surely hope not. That bear of yours should be in your bedroom. After all, bears are given to you to comfort you in your childhood: just after Mum or Dad had lectured you on not closing the screen door, or your teacher told your mother you wouldn’t share toys at your kindergarten. And your bear did just that, right? And I am certain your bear is ready at any moment to offer you a little bit of a lift.

Multi-coloured Teddy Bear

Bears come in all shapes and sizes and, indeed, often in colours one would not think a bear bearing (pun intended). There are brown bears, black bears, orange bears, blue bears (but that’s almost sacrilege), and certainly dirty and worn bears. Perhaps the worn bears are the most valued: they could be the most valuable item a person can have. At least to their owners.

Bears certainly have character. Bears can look friendly and seem to smile upon whomsoever gazes on them. They can look grumpy, but no bear is truly grumpy, so it’s just in the beargazer’s eyes that a bear might look grumpy. Bears can look happy. But, because bears have character, bears are not neutral, they are not an ‘it’: no, bears are a he or a she. Did you read that? Bears are either ‘he’ or ‘she’.

Many of you know the story of how Teddy Bears came to be: Margarite Steiff , a German business woman, was stricken with polio early in life, but still got a good education as her friends used to put her in a hay cart and take her to school. Although one of her arms was also affected, she was able to sew and became a tailor, eventually owning her own shop. One day, she made a stuffed elephant as a pin cushion and, subsequently, started giving them to her customers. However, the customers’ children like them so much, as a stuffed toy, they came back for more.

Steiff with one of her bears

Soon, Steiff started making all sorts of stuffed animals from cats and dogs to pigs, some of them had articulating arms and legs. So, in 1880 the Margarite Steiff MbgH was registered in Germany and her nephew, Richard, joined her in 1887 and became a major figure in the company. He would go to the zoo and make drawings of animals from which stuffed animals evolved.

In 1902, President “Teddy” Roosevelt went on a hunting trip in Mississippi and, after he called other hunters ‘unsportsmanlike’ for jeering him for refusing to shoot a bear they had captured, the event became a cartoon subject in many American newspapers seen by thousands. A shop owner in Brooklyn, Morris Michtom, had a great idea and he and his wife had stuffed bears placed in their shop window, selling them to many people. By permission of President Roosevelt, the Michtoms were allowed to name their bears Teddy Bears and they sold as fast as they could make them, women and children carrying them proudly in the streets. The President himself used one as a mascot in his next re-election bid.

A year later, in 1903, an American gave an order to the Steiff company for three thousand bears, as his adventurous response to the “Teddy” bear craze.

The Steiff company, which is still in operation, has a motto as styled by Margarite Steiff, is “Only the best is good enough for children” and their products are subject to meticulous testing and inspection. They are required to be highly flame resistant and, among other things, smaller pieces such as eyes must be able to resist considerable tension, wear and tear, as only children can give.

In coming up with this post and telling of My Beloved’s and my bears, I realised I would likely become the subject of laughter, perhaps, smirking, or, like President Roosevelt, the object of mockery. No matter, My Beloved and I are proud of our own bears, each of us having kept our bear since they had been given to us some time in or after 1933 . They, as you can see are very well worn, although her Teddy ( right) has withstood the passage of time better than my Teddy. (Just like My Beloved and me.) Nevertheless, they sit by our bedside and represent a lifetime of living together.

Many years ago, before WWII, as I was trying hard to recover from a serious bout of pneumonia, my Nanny taught me to knit. And, of course, the first of several items I knitted was a pair of shorts and a pullover for my Ted. They were around for many a year, but I believe the moths loved them so much while he and I were separated for several years, that when I last saw them, they were nothing but strings of wool around my Teddy. He doesn’t seem to mind not having them, however.

Bonzo and Friends

Now, we have many more stuffed friends. In the chair beside our bed, and on the left hand side of the photo above you can see a little piece of Bonzo, my dog. And here is Bonzo, along with a multitude of other stuffed friends. Oh, yes, Bonzo has always been with me, too, but has withstood the passage of time somewhat better than Ted, perhaps because he was a guard dog, sitting there protecting me, whereas Ted was a comforting cuddly friend.

Sometimes I wonder what they do while we are away.

Do they enjoy being left alone for months at a time? Do they have parties? I must say that, particularly when we have guests staying at our house, my wine seems to disappear quite rapidly: could they possibly be doing a little sipping even while we are out on a day trip? And yet, when we return, be it later in the day or several months later, they are all in exactly the same positions as when we left. They really are good at not leaving any evidence of partying. It really is quite likely though they do party, as Pooh Bear has shown over a number of years, that bears can get into mischief.

Bears do travel quite well. Although neither of our Teddy Bears does any travelling, there is one bear who has traveled to many places in the world. I cannot reveal which of our children has this fine Teddy, who has been to such places as the UK, Egypt, Israel and several countries in Europe, Barbados, Cayman Islands and all over North America. He has occasionally had to go to the ER, where My Beloved has been able to repair the dire wounds of being stuffed in suitcases and inspected by unimpressed Customs agents. But, as you can see, this very valuable and totally irreplaceable Teddy Bear is a girl bear. You see, I said Teddy Bears can be of either sex, but never, no never, an ‘it‘. However, a Teddy Bear can be androgynous and still be a he or a she.

In an antepenultimate paragraph about Teddy Bears, psychologists say that in today’s society, more so than in previous generations, mother and child are frequently, very often daily, separated, the mother having to go to work. This separation is stressful to the child, so the child looks to something very familiar, her Teddy Bear, with his soft cuddly structure. From infancy, she has had her Teddy Bear and he or she has become part of her life. She has cuddled him, petted him and she has talked and will talk to her Teddy Bear, just as her mother talks to her. Both she and her mother look for ways to smooth over the daily separation; and the Teddy Bear, known to psychologists as a transition object, serves them both well. In fact, the Teddy Bear is almost a magician in making her feel less lonely and separated from her mother.

So, tonight, if, horror of horrors, your Teddy Bear is not at your bedside, go and hunt for him or her and resurrect him or her, then, at dinner, raise a glass of wine – or water, or whatever you drink – to your very own beloved Teddy Bear!

And in a final word, or should I say, image, my Teddy Bear wishes you all the very best for you and knows that your Teddy Bear and he will meet one day in Teddy Bear Heaven, for as sure and as long as Teddy Bears are comforting children, they will all meet and have one gigantic continuous party in that Teddy Bear Heaven!

Posted in Dining, General, humor, humour

Ramen

Ramen. Or Ramen noodles. I had heard of it: it was even mentioned on CTV’s Your Morning today. But what actually is it. Not being a pasta lover, I had never really thought about it.

Today, we were to have lunch with Charlie and Shirlie. Finally. Yes, there had been at least two previous attempts to get together for lunch at a particular restaurant in the Dartmouth side of Halifax, but because of (a) the first time last year, instead of driving to the restaurant, My Beloved drove me to the ER; and (b) the second attempt just last week, either he or I got the date mixed up and My Beloved and I did not join them in their lunch at Moxie’s.

But today, all four of us made it to Moxie’s. Believe it: a new item on the menu is a bowl of Miso Ramen. I know what miso is, but not knowing anything about ramen and always having been
adventurous, I opted for that with added shrimp. My Beloved opted for the Loaded Hamburger, but iceberg lettuce supplanting the bun, along with a side Caesar salad. Least said about Charlie and Shirlie’s choices the better.

As it was Wednesday, Moxie’s has their wine on at half price, so a bottle of Trapiche Malbec served My Beloved and me during the lunch, 66% for her and 33% for me.

Loaded Lettuce Burger with Caesar Salad

After a special grace, since I didn’t know whether I would survive this, I dived into the noodles with my chopsticks and pulled up a load of them mixed with some Chinese broccoli and a piece of green onion. Mmmm! That sure tasted great. But what was in the sauce which made it so tasty? There definitely was some Sriracha, since a plate accompanied the dish with a bottle on it, should I wish to hotten it up. There were also some mushrooms. And, sitting proudly atop of everything were two half soft-boiled eggs. Have you ever tried to pick a slippery half an egg up with chopsticks? I did it: twice.

Having devoured every solid piece of food in the bowl, I was left with one of the most delicious thin soups I have ever spooned into my mouth. There was plenty of it, but I could have gone on drinking more. But that would have been greedy and I try not to be a gourmand.

My Beloved deconstructed her lettuce burger, as there was no possible way for her to get her small and dainty mouth around it. As it was, the burger was voted just an OK; she could not finish her lettuce nor the salad. As for our friends, they did devour the substantial items on their plates and, as they and I still had left room for dessert, they shared the Fiasco Gelato, two scoops of mint chocolate chip with chocolate sauce – gluten conscious . My Beloved and I shared, 90% me and 10% her, (I let her steal some as I was still trying not to be a gourmand) a luscious flourless dark double chocolate cake, moist & rich, with almond & coconut crust, also with one scoop of the fiasco mint chocolate chip gelato – gluten conscious.

We departed still good friends and looking forward to the next lunch together. At home, I delved into Google to try to find out about ramen. The first thing I learnt was that the word ramen is a Japanese transcription of the Chinese lamian (拉麵) and the noodles are made from wheat. But here is some of what I read:
Ramen noodles contain a preservative called tertiary-butyl hydroquinone (TBHQ), which extends their shelf life by quite some time. TBHQ is a byproduct of the petroleum industry and is often listed as an “antioxidant,” but it’s important to realize that it is a synthetic chemical with antioxidant properties — not a natural antioxidant. The chemical prevents oxidation of fats and oils, thereby extending the shelf life of processed foods. You’ll find it in Chicken McNuggets, CHEEZ-Its and Taco Bell beans. You’ll also find it in varnishes, lacquers, and pesticide products. Yuck!  They also contain other horrible additives such as MSG .

Oh, no, you gourmand, you! What went into my stomach?

BUT then I realised they were talking about the instant stuff college kids use as a quick go-to meal and those packages have another package inside, which contains the offensive products.

Should you wish to see something revolting, check out the video in the article at
https://www.littlethings.com/ramen-noodles-inside-stomach-digestion/

But I still asked what did I put in my mouth?

So, I went to Moxie’s web site, Moxie’s.com, and, lo and behold, ALL IS WELL, for this is part of what I found there:
Inspired by the rich culinary landscape of Japanese cuisine, Executive Chef Brandon Thordarson has created a hearty, belly-warming Miso Ramen. Our version is made with vegetarian miso broth flavoured with roasted garlic, nutty sesame oil, and toasted sesame seeds. We then stir in sambel oelek—a hot paste made from chili peppers, ginger, and shallots. After the broth is perfected, we add gai lan, or Chinese broccoli, fresh green onion, a marinated soft-boiled egg, shiitake mushrooms, and, most importantly, authentic ramen noodles. We invite you to try it with Chasu—fatty slices of braised pork, or sautéed prawns for a boost of protein. And, if you like it spicy, we serve our Miso Ramen with a bottle of Sriracha so you can turn up the heat!

Although I said, all is well, it really is a good meal only on very rare occasions. For, if you explore Moxie’s web site further, click on Food, then Bowls and scroll down to Miso Ramen. Alongside to the right is an (i); clicking on that brings up the Nutritional Information. Although there are good vitamins A and C and also calcium and iron , there are 3650mg of Sodium – salt. A daily value according to Health Canada should not exceed 2300mg, so ………….

…………….I will go back to one of Moxie’s locations – often – but I’ll stick with a Caesar Salad.
Maybe. That ramen was really good.

Posted in humor, humour

What do you do when you have choices…?

Have you ever been wondering what to do out of several choices? Like, boxing my 48 litres of wine (I don’t bottle: it’s too labour-intensive); doing a PowerPoint presentation for the following Sunday’s service; vacuuming the house; or getting the guest room ready for our next visitor arriving next Tuesday.

On returning home from a morning unlocking the church for a meeting I was not attending, picking up theatre tickets, going to the bank to make a deposit, then on to Costco to add another grandchild as a family member and finally the Bulk Barn to pick up unshelled peanuts and shelled sunflower seeds for the Blue Jays, squirrels and chipmunks, I had a nice lunch in my recliner followed by an even nicer nap.

So, there I was, right after my nap, faced with having to do something. Other than just staying in my recliner and trying to nod off again.

I decided that boxing my wine was a morning job, definitely not an afternoon one. For your edification, ‘boxing’ is not a term used by real vintners: it is one I coined as a result of deciding that de-labeling, washing and sterilizing 60 or so bottles, filling them, corking them, shrink-wrapping them, labelling them and carrying them down two flights of stairs to the wine room a few at a time was, as I said above, much too labour-intensive. Particularly as I would have to climb back up two flights again. I enjoy my wine – and that of other’s too – too much to waste time which could be used in drinking it. Besides the grape juice concentrate manufacturers provide me with a lovely strong plastic bag container, which holds up to 7 litres, and I re-insert the full bag back into the box they also, thoughtfully, provide. All I have to do is cut a hole in the side of the box so the spout can protrude to which I attach a tap. And there it is, ready to squirt wine into my glass; and yours, if you are here. How easy is that! All I needed was six bags and boxes, not sixty bottles.

The PowerPoint was the next option. However, I had just finished the presentation for this coming Sunday, so I didn’t really feel like jumping straight into another one for the following Sunday. There’s always time for that between now and the arrival of our next visitor.

Vacuuming the house was an option, which had true little appeal after just waking from a nap and having the other option of nodding off again. Besides, I find it takes too much energy to do the entire house in one go, so usually I split the exercise into two smaller efforts. By the time I had decided that I had time to vacuum one floor, it was too late, as I was already considering the fourth option….

….that of getting the guest room ready. Well, it is ready, it’s always ready for whomsoever needs to stay overnight, so all that is needed is to make the bed with clean sheets. And that can be done any time between now and Tuesday morning.

At about that time, I must have nodded off again.

On awakening, I realised that there was no time left to do any of the four options, so I sat down at the computer and wrote this.

Posted in Dining, General, humor, humour, Uncategorized

Crossushi, Raw Water and Mouth Cooking

I like to think of myself as a Foodie -sometimes a gourmet and sometimes a gourmand, but always a Foodie.

But recently I came across an article in the Oxford English Dictionaries Word of the Day mentioning crossushi, raw water and mouth cooking and I wondered what they were.

Crossushi, it turns out, is manufactured by a bakery in New York and is a cross between a croissant and sushi as we know and love it: a sesame-seed-topped croissant with smoked salmon, wasabi, and nori seaweed. Well, I could certainly handle that as a Foodie.

Raw Water is something quite different: it is unsterilised water taken by those who do not believe there should be chlorine, fluoride and other chemicals in drinking water. Well, I drink that all the time, since we obtain our water from a 200-ft/65-metre well in our property. The only chemical of distinction in our water is arsenic. True. But I have been drinking it for well over thirty years now and I still have quite a head of hair. But others, apparently, simply get their water from streams and open water. Nah, that’s not for me.

Now we get to Mouth Cooking. Oh, my, after I discovered what that was, again, courtesy of OED, “A viral YouTube video called ‘Cooking With Your Mouth’ features a chef preparing a Christmas turkey stuffing entirely with her mouth – from dicing onions by chewing a big bite to zesting lemon by scraping the rind against her teeth to mixing a raw egg by swishing it around her gums” I decided that was distinctly, definitely outside the realm of this Foodie.

Yes, I have often shared a fork, say an escargot from My Beloved’s dish, or a spoon, say a small piece of my grandson’s chocolate torte, but chewed food out of another’s mouth? Not for me.

The article went on to posit whether Shakespeare was a gourmet or gourmand. Perhaps we will never know for sure, but judging from the many times food is mentioned in his thirty-nine plays one might consider he was, like me, a Foodie. Consider some of his lines:
Eight wild boars roasted whole for breakfast, and but twelve persons there. (Antony and Cleopatra)
Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers (Romeo and Juliet)
Do you think because you are virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? (Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night)
Then again, Drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things………nose painting, sleep and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but takes away the performance. (Macbeth) [Nose painting, by the way, is the reddening of one’s nose through drinking.]

Interestingly, Jennifer Beard wrote a book of recipes based on Shakespeare’s works and one was Shrewsbury Cakes taken from that Twelfth Night quote above https://anaspiringhomemaker.wordpress.com/2014/05/28/shrewsbury-cakes-an-elizabethan-cookbook/.

I cannot end, of course, without recognising that we have had two of our daughters here over the past two months, both providing a huge help in the weeding and planting of flowers. One grandson has also been here helping with some of the heavier chores, such as chopping and stacking wood. They all will be gone towards the end of next week, but shortly after in August, another daughter and her two daughters will be arriving from California. It is possible, hopefully, that a fourth daughter will be arriving by herself (children all grown up and husband cannot get away from work) for a week or two just before the other daughter and granddaughters leave. Too bad our son will not be able to make a trip here from Victoria, BC, but, in September a dear friend from England arrives for three weeks. And, obviously, we will have more adventures for Foodies over the next two or three months.

Last night, one daughter, one grandson, My Beloved and I each had a more than 2-pound

lobster and My Beloved’s fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. Oh, that makes me, with good wine to slosh it all down, like the printers, an all-in-one gourmet, gourmand and Foodie. And if you know our family, you always leave a last slice of new bread to the very end, when it is smothered in butter and Marmite. Oh, yummmmmmy!

And I leave you with some words from this Foodie:

I go to the market to buy me some bacon
but when I get there, my tummy starts achein’,
for I see all the goodies lined up on the shelves
and to them my eyes are drawn all by themselves:
Hershey dark choc’late and Breyer’s ice cream
and things that I love and not just in a dream
like peaches and crumpets and jams with great flavour
and spices which I in my curries can savour.
As I pass by the shelves I select this and that
much more than I came for – and that’s a true fact.
I’ve seen so much choice that my will’s got forsaken
and I choose so much more than the one slab of bacon;
my cart is so laden with peanuts and Ruffles
to get to the car I can barely do shuffles.
It’s not till next morning as I stand on the scales
the neighbours for far sure can all hear my wails.
So, gourmand or gourmet or plain simple Foodie
fill up my tummy and I’ll never be moody.

Posted in General, humor, humour

Know Your Guests By their Food

Every year it seems, My Beloved and I host family or friends guests from  about the third week of June,  for all of July, most of August, and well into September.

And we enjoy every day of that time!
And, more to the point, THEY enjoy every moment of every day!

Why wouldn’t you when you can wake up in the Guest room to this scene:

IMG_4765 - Copy

So, what does food have to do with our guests?
EVERYTHING!

When they have awoken, some like breakfast; some nothing to eat, but maybe a cup of coffee or tea. If they like breakfast, they may well like a British breakfast with my special extra-creamy scrambled eggs, such as these two Atlanta, GA, friends of ours, J and C, at the far end of the table:

IMG_20170719_1046078

Others, like N and J from Palm Springs, California, like cereal. (Note to self: make sure the Best Before date is more recent than two years ago.) And/or fruit.

Some, like T and S from Cleveland, bring a trailer and prefer to have breakfast in their abode before emerging for the rest of the day with us.

One of our daughters, Jenny, Jack eating hamburger - IMG_20160715_2007410and her 13-year old son, Jack, come in June every year and stay for all of July, as Jack takes sailing lessons at St. Margaret’s Bay Sailing Club. Last year, the day after their arrival, they were up early,
joined us at our church for morning service,
followed by lots of fun at the Parish barbecue.
Hamburgers and hot dogs for all. Including young Jack
trying to stuff a complete hamburger in his mouth.
Some breakfast! But his teenage appetite is something else!

Lunches are very variable. Some like almonds, yogourt and fruit. We tend to eat those items for lunch, so apples, grapes, bananas, pears or plums are always in the larder or either the kitchen or downstairs fridge. Or there’s always White Sails down Peggy’s Cove road for mountainous Montreal smoked meat sandwiches on rye with sauerkraut and French fries with poutine on the side. Some lunch!

There are some whose digestive system will take any punishment and they need new (preferably) bread, lots of butter, loads of salami or ham slices and mustard and pickles.
Again, some lunch!

I must admit that I have been known at least once in the past decade to have a  new bread thickly-spread peanut butter and tomato or banana sandwich. And there has to be a good layer of butter under the peanut butter.
Well, maybe more than one in a decade.
And there is an alternative, such as today’s lunch of lovely crunchy bread, butter, but because the kitchen was quite cool today, it was impossible to spread the butter thinly – sort of sliced butter – and a reasonable slice of Velveeta. Yes, I have always loved Velveeta, so what, you critics!

New bread with cold butter that won’t spread, so it has to go on rather thickly, and Marmite - IMG_20180522_1226206Marmite is a delight My Beloved, some of our five kids and I relish. Marmite? Ah, go to the British section of the supermarket.  Or World Market in Palm Springs. Yes, it’s a British thing, I’m told, and if you have not been brought up with Marmite, you may not, at a mature age as is Robb, like it. But give it a try – Robb does time and time again: new bread, thickly spread butter and Marmite very lightly spread – you don’t need much. You can also use it in gravies. I think it could be used as a spy test: if you don’t like Marmite, you must be a Russian spy.

Then there are the dinner choices for our guests. Some may have allergies, such as shellfish like K, or Garlic – yes garlic – like J, or onions like D. And there are those like R who are steak people. Or roast beef like Tanis – oh, but wait a minute, she likes Greek and sushi, too.

Take them to a restaurant and see what they order. Do they select the escargots or a chowder? Do they choose salmon or lamb chops? And do they eat desserts? It’s a way of finding out our friends’ preferences.

My Beloved and I rarely eat desserts – virtually never at home – and, if we do choose one at a restaurant, we are likely to share a chocolate mousse. But watch C, he will have the most luscious strawberry Charlotte Russe the house can offer – not this house though, it takes too long to prepare.
However, if I can find plantains, I will flambé them for guests.

Let them get black as the ace of spades, the plantains, not the guests – some people see them on the top of our fridge and think they are rotting bananas. The blacker they are, the better. Carefully run a sharp-pointed knife down the inside curve of the plantain, trying to penetrate only the skin, not the fruit itself, and the skin will peel off. Slice them into 1cm disks. Heat a cast iron fry pan and when medium hot, add a good chunk of butter and some brown sugar. When the butter and sugar have melted, add the plantain disks. Sauté until they are nicely browned, then flip them and do the other side. Just when they are ready to serve, pour in a good splash of brandy or Grand Marnier or liqueur of your choice, remove the pan well away from the stove keeping your head well away, too, and ignite the spirit with a long match. Your guests will be amazed at the result! Serve and pour the pan juices over the plantains.

That appears as if I do the cooking: no way, My Beloved is the best cook in the world and she it is at the heart of our home-made gastronomic experiences. But we work well together at helping our guests.

Some guests, of course, are omnivores. They are very easy to please. They’ll eat anything and everything.

Which brings up the fact that, while all our guests may prefer a certain food or type of food, they are all wonderful people and all are accommodating, willing, allergies aside, to eat, or at least try, what we put in front of them.

If you come and stay with us, you have been warned: your choice at a restaurant doesn’t necessarily mean that’s what you will get at Chez Nous. But we will get to know you by your food choices and you will get love and food prepared lovingly.

Bon appétit!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in General, humor, humour

How much about our health is TMI?

Over the past five months, I have subjected my friends and two of our daughters have subjected their FB friends to episodes in my life regarding health.

Ofttimes, I have thought, I wonder if this is TMI – Too Much Information – and whether I should not ask for prayers and positive thoughts. I have wondered whether my friends and all those hundreds on FB, most of whom I do not know, have just discarded the emails or FB posts.

Today, after church, one person came up to me and said, “Mel, thank you so much for sharing. Many people do not have the courage to ask for support. Perhaps your sharing will help them share.”

I had never thought about my emails in that light. It was quite a revelation to me. But on thinking about it, I realised that very often I know friends who are suffering from health or other difficulties of life and, yet, they do not broadcast their woes or seek opinions of others. In my case, I also realised that by telling hundreds of people about myself, hundreds of people, most of whom I do not even know since they are friends of our daughters, gave me huge support with prayers and, equally stimulating for me, words of encouragement, stories of their spouses’ or friends’ experiences. So many people supporting me: me, whom they, too, did not know, but nevertheless took time to let me know they were thinking of me.

I am not a narcissist, nor do I have Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I am a person who likes to talk to people. My Beloved knows that I am just as likely to start a conversation with that nice couple at the next table as not. Maybe more likely, particularly if I detect a different accent. I have also been told on many occasions that I am funny. And that is how I tried to write those emails relating to my health issues: not heavy-handed or sorrowful, but with a touch of lightness. To many I related my issues to an old car: you take it in for an oil change and the mechanic says, the radiator has a slight leak – I can really associate myself with that – and, having fixed the leak, I find my brakes are squealing, so I have to get new pads. Having got that fixed, the weather stripping around the driver’s door needs replacing – it actually did need that. After all that, I say my car has had its Spring Tune-up. That’s me.

Pacemaker in Nov-Dec.
One eye cataract in Jan and the second in Feb.
In March, a CAT scan (because I cannot have an MRI with a pacemaker) discovered two “things” in the bladder, so this month, I have had them scraped off the wall.
The following day, I had two basal cell cancers snipped off the tip and the side of my nose – I look like I had a great fight or, as one friend at church put it, “Looks like your wife bit the end off in a moment of real passion!” Yes, in church, yet.
I still have to get a hernia fixed in May, but after that, I will be able to say, my Spring Tune-up was successful and I am ready to run or walk as in the past. Walk, anyway, as I don’t like running. I mean, what’s the point of trying to get from one point back to where you came from in the least amount of time? I like to cover the same ground looking at the hedgerows, the flowers and keeping watch out for the hungry coyote.

Without humour, where would we be and what would our lives be like? (The subject of another post on this Blog, I think.) Life is what we get dealt by genes, fate,  and nothing you or I can do will change those factors. However, our own way of life can be a serious factor by what we eat, believe and how we act. And in how we deal with what we have been dealt and relate that to others, if we feel like doing so, is quite probably the way that others come back to us. As yet another person in church this morning said, “These last few months, you have had one thing after another, but you always come bouncing back cheerfully!”

Life may not be what you make it, but you can sure help to shape the results. And it may be that if you share your issues with others, as I have done, the rewards can be overwhelming, often making me cry.

Cry? Is that a good or happy thing? You betcha, it made me feel one heck of a lot better!

And, so, I share all this with you, dear reader. May you be blessed with good health and a sense of humour.

 

Posted in General, humor, humour

The Pedometer and what it means to me

For years I have wanted something that would tell me how far I have walked, or how many steps I have taken.

Once years ago, I bought a pedometer which strapped on my wrist. After a while, it seemed not to be very accurate and I lost interest in what it was telling me. I think it broke: or I broke it. I can’t remember.

So, just recently, I informed My Beloved of 63 years (plus those nine courting years, including 6 in the teen years) that for my birthday I would like a pedometer. OK, she responded, but you will have to choose one. Now this was different, because for the past umpteen years, we have not given birthday or Christmas gifts to each other – oh, occasionally, I might have given in and surprised her.

Now some of our friends have Fitbits. And everyone to whom I talked never mentioned the word pedometer. I thought I must be a dinosaur asking for a pedometer: so was the name Fitbit being adopted like Kleenex as a generic word meaning what I used to call a pedometer? This thought had me starting to search Google for Fitbits.

Oh, they come for your wrist, for your ankle, as a pendant or as an attachment to your belt. Or as a clip-on to your pocket. I had had no idea how many of these Fitbits there are. But then I discovered that there are many fitbits (with a small f), but that they are not called fitbits with a small f, but Fitness Trackers. Oh.

But my friends all had Fitbits, or they said they did. Oh, my! I quickly came to the conclusion that all our Fitbit friends were wealthier than My Beloved and me. The price of Fitbits seemed astronomic: over $300 Canadian. To count my steps?

But wait, the ad said, all the things that a Fitbit can do:

  • Tracks steps, distance and calories burned
  • Syncs automatically to your computer or select bluetooth 4.0 smartphones or tablets
  • Set goals, view progress and earn badges
  • Share and compete with friends throughout the day
  • Free iphone and android application
  • Sync stats wirelessly and automatically to your computer and over 150 leading smartphones

No, no, no! I do not want to sync to my computer; I do not want to earn badges – I have enough; I do not want to share and compete with friends. I JUST WANT TO COUNT STEPS.

So, next was the Omron at little over half the price of a Fitbit. However, in Canada we work in metric and I found one review which told me that it could not be changed to metric. Throw the Omron out!

After looking at a number of similarly expensive machines – and it seemed to me that the smaller the machine, the more costly it is – I concluded that I could not have a birthday present.

But wait! What if I changed my term of reference for Google? How about simply asking if there were such a thing as a Pedometer. And, suddenly, there burst on my screen a zillion pedometers – including my friends’ Fitbit.

And there, alongside the Fitbits were much less costly gizmos. Including one called a
One TweakIMG_20180401_1657465

The One Tweak does a few simple, but one particularly essential one for me: it counts steps. Yes, it also stores a daily and up to a monthly total. And a total memory mode. It also counts calories (which I ignore in more ways than one), the distance in kilometres (yes, it does US standard, too), and exercise time. It does not sync with my computer; it does not share and compete with friends; it does not earn badges! It does what I wanted a pedometer to do: count steps and tell me how far I have walked.

And it clips to my trouser pocket – facing inside the pocket. Or, when I’m doing exercises first thing in the morning, to my underpants. That’s probably too much info. Imagining me in my underpants and a shirt doing exercises. One Tweak doesn’t care – it works anyway.

The photo shows that today, Easter Sunday 2018, by just about 3 minutes to 5pm when I took the photo and put it in this post, I had walked 1,652 steps – most of them at church this morning. Yes, we had a Sunrise Service at 5.30am starting with fire in the parking lot, then candle-light in the church, following which we men’s group provided breakfast of fried eggs (three at least for most), sausages (two for most, but three or four for some), one pancake each, tea, coffee and OJ or apple juice. And then, after an hour and a half break during which My Beloved and I went home, set the alarm for 9am, woke to the alarm, we returned for a more traditional Anglican (C of E or Episcopalian, depending on your country) service at 9.30am.

Oh, yes, my One Tweak tells the time – and in metric! Or 12-hour AM/PM if you prefer. I don’t.

How can you refuse to buy and keep something from Amazon Prime when it arrives with the enclosed card:

IMG_20180401_1659505

I have now had my One Tweak for about a week and how much did it cost? Canadian $80. And I am totally satisfied with it – well, almost: the numbers are rather slow at getting towards my first target of 5,000 steps. I wonder how I can get it to speed up!