Instead of a Year-End Top 10 List: 7 or 8 Ho Hum 2012 Things

'Tis the season to commemorate the passing of 2012 with a Top 10 list of some sort. But I choose not to do that. Too radical, too political, too polarizing, too much effort...I'd have to go out on some sort of limb and make choices.

So, in keeping with the apolitical, safe, middling spirit of my blog (and in truly Canadian fashion) I offer 7 or 8 ho hum things that happened in 2012. Neutral stuff; okay stuff; stuff that's not great, not bad, and somewhat forgettable; stuff that earns a C+ or a B- at best in the grand scorecard of life.

I'll use bullets instead of numbers since sequence is irrelevant:

• Ho hum film: The Way. I watched it last night so I haven't forgotten it yet. Not great, not bad, but I knew nobody would be mad if I watched it without them, so I watched it. Never heard of it until it showed up on Netflix. I'll be 30 minutes into it next time I watch it before I remember seeing it and turn it off. But not bad.
• Ho hum television: Revolution. Concept is okay and execution is mediocre. The acting is generally adequate, with occasional bouts of poor. I watched it because...well, I don't really know why. I think it's still on if you want to catch up, but maybe not.
• Ho hum technology: eBook Readers. In 2012 this unexceptional technology became even more so with great new features like...new sizes. I still believe that using an eBook Reader is sometimes slightly better than reading a book in print or on some other technology. And it continues to have a clear advantage when you need to read something using only your feet.
• Ho hum book: It's a tie amongst everything that's available for $3.99 or less for your eBook Reader. When I'm finished with one of these titles, I file them away in my "Read" (past tense) folder. Problem is that "Read" can also be interpreted as present or future tense (as in "To Read"). When I make that mistake I open the folder and see a whole bunch of titles I don't recognize or remember.
• Ho hum key on my keyboard: 'K'. An uncommon letter sitting under one of my most powerful fingers. Only the 'J' occupies a better spot and is less frequently used. Although this seems to have nothing to do with 2012, it never gets mentioned so I just did.
• Ho hum moment: 6:16 am on December 21. It could have been a big moment, but it wasn't. It definitely played second fiddle to the big moment at 6:17 am when the world continued.
• Ho hum person: I have to go with the cashier at Toys 'R Us who helped us out the night we bought my 3-year-old's bike. She did a fair job at check-out. A little slow, a little angry, but nothing to worry about. Sorry lady at the cleaners - there's always next year.
• Ho hum sporting event: I think I have to go with the Rams and 49ers 24-24 tie on November 11th. It says a lot that this game beat out the entire 2012 portion of the 2012/13 NHL season. But given that this game happened, it gets the nod.

There they are, all (counting...counting) 8 of them. Since there is no such thing as more ho hum, there's not really much point in arguing about this list. K? (Sorry, my finger slipped).

Theory: The World DID End on Dec. 21

It's just a theory, but I'm beginning to believe that the world did end on December 21st after all. (Aside: the term "after all" is pretty cool when you're thinking apocalyptically).

I don't mean this in the way that some Apocalypse apologists might (i.e. 'the world ended as we knew it'); I mean that it is becoming apparent to me that the world did end for real on December 21st 2012 as predicted. Since that day, we have all been living in a very convincing replica of the world we knew. Someone is trying hard to cover-up the Apocalypse!

But the evidence is out there. Look at your life, think of your life before - like me, you'll see signs of an Apocalypse cover-up. Here is mine (or should I say "Mayan" - ha ha):

(The rest of this post will be written in giant blue font because it seems appropriate to do so.)

Since December 21st 2012, I have not been to work. Not even once. Going to work was a daily occurrence pre-Apocalypse.

I remember distinctly that two of my daughters used to be away at school. Suddenly, they're here again - like University never happened. And they still don't clear their dishes after they eat. Like they'd be away at University, take care of themselves for all that time, then come home and stop doing it.

It snowed today! Snow! In Canada! Who are they trying to kid??!?

On December 21st 2012, one of my daughters got her driver's license. Apocalyptic? I THINK SO.

Last night we played Scrabble and I used all 7 of my letters THREE times. That never would have happened if the world had continued. Suddenly good letters come out of the bag?? (Of course, the 2 daughter replicas who are at home with me might think otherwise - but this is my post-Apocalypse rant, not theirs)
 
Pre-Apocalypse I used to have funny things to say on my blog. Not anymore.
Whoever is perpetrating this hoax, I'm onto you. Try harder! Or, send pistachio ice cream and lots of it and I'll keep quiet (the real stuff, not spumoni).

The Genie in the Market (Another Parable)

Once upon a time there lived a sweet, beautiful, smart, funny, creative, happy, generous girl whose only flaw - if one could even consider it a flaw - was her inability to arrive places on time.

One day she found herself in a street market standing in front of a table covered with rusty old household items and - untroubled by the fact that her parents were waiting for her at a prearranged meeting spot - she examined item after item on the table. As her hands grazed a fancy old bottle, she was amazed to see a hazy mist rise from the bottle and slowly take the form of a great and powerful Genie. In a roaring voice, the Genie said "I am a great and powerful Genie and I've been trapped in that bottle for thousands of years. Thanks to you, I am now free, save my one final obligation to grant my rescuer three wishes. The only catch is that you must tell me all three of your wishes right now and I'll deliver them to you when the time is right."

Nearly overcome with excitement, the girl quickly made her wishes:"Oh great and powerful Genie, my first wish is to marry the man of my dreams. My second wish is to find a meaningful career that enriches me. And my third wish is that we live together in a wonderful home."
 
Jotting down the three wishes, the Genie explained: "I will send you instructions when the time has come for each of these wishes to come true. Follow these instructions with care." And with that, he vanished in a puff of mist.

Years passed, until shortly after the girl turned 18 she received a note from the Genie telling her to be in the Sandbag Bar at exactly 4:48 that afternoon to meet the man of her dreams. At 4:11 she started to get ready. At 4:43 she grabbed her coat and ran to the front door. At 4:46 she ran back upstairs to change her sweater. By 4:51 she had chosen her shoes. And at 4:59 she arrived at the bar. By that time, the man of her dreams - never knowing he was destined to meet his life-long mate that day - had left the bar. But when the girl flew through the doors, there was a man sitting alone at a table in the back corner. Believing he was the man of her dreams, she sat down and struck up a conversation. He wasn't particularly attractive, she didn't like his laugh, and his breath smelled a little, but she was blind to these things because of the magical circumstances of their meeting. She dated him and they wed soon after, despite her serious misgivings.

The girl wasn't thrilled with her marriage, but she knew in her heart that she could still find happiness if she followed her passion and became an actress. A few months later, after several unsuccessful auditions, she received a second note from the Genie: "Go to the War Memorial Statue in the Town Square at exactly 11:31 tomorrow morning. Wear your finest clothes, do your hair, and bring your resume." Fully intending to follow the instructions to the letter, she got her resume ready, chose her clothes and her shoes, and did her hair that night so she could arrive at the statue in plenty of time the following morning. But her husband kept her up half the night with his incessant snoring, and it was 11:22 am when she finally opened her eyes. Realizing what had happened, she quickly ran to the door, threw on her clothes, her coat and her shoes, then ran back upstairs to straighten her hair after catching a glance in the mirror. She finally arrived at the statue at 11:54. By that time, the owner of the Town Theater had already wandered off (he had been leaning against the statue, trying to figure out how he was going to replace his injured star). The girl, meanwhile, stumbled upon a different person at the statue: a serious-looking man who was cleaning pigeon droppings off of the statue's shoulder. "The Genie must know something I don't", she thought, as she offered to help him, handed him her resume, and quickly took a job with him maintaining all of the statues around town.

Weeks later, she received a third note from the Genie, wrapped around thousands and thousands of dollars. It said: "Be at the foot of Longfellow Avenue, cash in hand at precisely 7:37 tonight to buy the home of your dreams". The girl would have been there on time, but she met some friends on the way there and got caught up in a conversation. She arrived at Longfellow shortly after 8. In the intervening time, the 'For Sale' sign on the beautiful house at the foot of Longfellow came down (reluctant seller finally pulling it off the market). But as she stood there trying to figure out what to do next, a man in an RV pulled up to ask her for directions. She offered him the money the Genie had given her in exchange for his RV, thinking "Trust the Genie" as she completed the transaction.

The girl went on with her life, married, cleaning poop from the statues around town, and living out of an aging RV. Until much, much later she got a final message from the Genie: "Meet me at 9 tonight in the market where we first met."

When she arrived at 9:24, she stormed over to the Genie and before he could say a word, she let him have it: "I followed your instructions each time you sent me a note, and all I got was the wrong man, the wrong career and the wrong home! You have some nerve summoning me to meet you here after ruining my life. Stupid Genie."

Carefully controlling his temper, the Genie said: "Young lady, you don't see that this is all your fault? If you had been on time, even once, your life would be everything you dreamed. But you were late to meet your soul-mate and instead you met the wrong man. You were late for the theater audition I set up, and you took the wrong job. You missed a great opportunity on your dream house and spent the money I gave you on an RV instead. And even tonight, you've arrived late and missed the chance I was going to offer you to make it all right. I'm done with you." And he wandered off a free Genie with a clean conscience.

The girl, meanwhile, after having successfully covered up her real reason for being in the market, wandered over to the wonderful man with whom she had been having an affair for years. The owner of the Town Theater took her in his arms, whispered in her ear "You're going to love the role I've picked for you in the upcoming theater season", and they started back to his house on Longfellow under the cover of dark.

They never made it there because they were hit by an RV driven by a sad little man who had been instructed by a misty figure to "be at the market at precisely 9:24". He had come on time.

(Author's note: Sorry for the dark ending. The original parable had our time-challenged girl being surprisingly happy with the man she married, living in an RV, and working outside in the fresh air all day. But that didn't seem to teach anyone a lesson about being on time so I changed it. If you don't like the ending, write your own stupid parable.)

A Birthday Gift from Me to You

Because it is customary in some cultures for the person celebrating their birthday to be the one who gives out gifts, I thought I would give all of you a gift this morning by mentioning each of you in a special birthday song ('each of you' only includes my Facebook friends - to be included in next year's song, friend me).

It is sung to the tune of "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General":

My online friends are Adam, Adam, Alan, and Vincenzo

Amy, Amy, Angie, Ari, Avi, Beth, Damiano

Anthony, Annette, and Barry, Barry, Billy, Carl-o

Carol, Carrie, Cheryl, Cheryl, Sheryl, also Mo and Moe            

I’m very well acquainted, too, with Danny, Dan and Daniela

Daniel, David, David, David, Dave and of course Dahlia

Claire and Dawn and Deborah and Deborah and Diana

Dom, Ellaine and Elliot I haven’t yet forgotten ya.

There’s Ellen, Ellen, Erika - Eric, Frank and dear Gramma

Gary, Gary, Harold, Hartley, Heidi, Hershel, Ludovica

Howard, Ian, Jack ‘n James, Janice, Jay and Jennifer

Jacob, Jacob, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Judy, Judy, Lucia.

I know some more – there’s Jim and Jim and Lynda, Kelly, Ken and Ken

Jordan, Julie, Larry, Larry, Linda, Karen and Kathrine

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Marc, Marc, Marc, Mark, Mark, Karin

Luke, Maria, Melanie, Marisa, Rachele and Sharon

Mendy, Michael, Michael, Miriam and Ora all know me,

Michele, Paul, Paul, Pete, Rob, Ron, Phil, Ruth and Roger too, Shirley

Peter, Peter, Rachel, Randa, Rhonda, Richard, Rick, Sissy,

Ruthanne, Sandford, Scott and Scott and Seth and Seth are quite friendly.

Samantha and Samantha’s names use up a line themselves you see

So Shelly, Steve, Suzy, Ted, Ted, and Tina on one line must squeeze

Tobiah and Tamara and 3 Stevens and a Vicki

I’d invite you all to edit this but then I’d need a Wiki.

Happy my birthday everyone!

On Giving and Receiving

(Wow. The silence was deafening after my 'I am not a nerd' post. I can only conclude that you all agree. Thank you.)

With my birthday coming up and various other gift-giving events impending - or just past - I want to take this opportunity to talk about the phrase "it is better to give than to receive". In fact, I'll make a case for the position that receiving can be just as good as giving.

Logically, giving must be a selfish act. If giving really is better than receiving...far better, some would say...then the logical implication is that giving favours the giver. A give/receive exchange involves two parties. The giver forces the other party into the receiver role. Since giving is far better than receiving, the giver gets more out of the exchange by a wide margin.

I know I'm playing with words, but there's certainly truth in saying that giving can be a selfish act. Consider how easy it is to give selfishly - even without intent - by:

• Giving without thought
• Giving without grace
• Giving with motive
• Giving while refusing to receive
• Giving with strings attached
• Giving grudgingly.

Receiving is a gift. The very first gift I ever gave has been the source of family ridicule since the moment I gave it, but I can still feel the grandeur of the moment for the 5-year old that I was (or 6, or 4, or whatever). I had bought my mom a green juice glass with my own money, and I gave it to her bursting with pride. The important act in the exchange, though, was its receipt - and specifically how my mom received it. I don't remember the details, but to this day I can still remember this shining moment and the amazing feeling my mom gave me by the simple act of receiving the gift well. It was worth the lifetime of mocking and derision from the rest of my family that I have since endured.

When you receive a gift well, you are giving the giver far more than you received.

It's the thought that counts. This phrase is overused and under-practiced. There are 2 ways to give gifts well (in my opinion):

• The completely spontaneous, genuine act of giving - not planned, not required, not expected, not considered and re-considered - something that wells up from the purest, most pristine corners of your being. In this case, thought does not enter the equation.
• The obliged act of giving, but executed with careful thought.

Somehow "it's the thought that counts" has come to mean "this gift sucks, but that's okay". But if you don't view it as an excuse for a bad gift, it can actually shed light on how to give well: THINK.

• Think about the person for whom you are buying the gift. What will delight them enough to overcome the giver/receiver deficit?
• Think about your unique relationship with that person. What gift reflects that relationship? What gift could only you have given? What gift will remind them of you?
• Think about the circumstances surrounding the gift. Could you inadvertently be making the receiver feel bad, or embarrassed, or out-done?

Giving a good gift takes time, because thinking about it takes time. And even when you find yourself giving a gift card, use that otherwise unspent thinking time to write a really good personal note to wrap around the card.

Give well and receive well this holiday season. Neither has to be better. And this year, I will try to follow my own advice.

(PS - Gift cards with wrap-around personal notes can be sent directly to the author on the occasion of his upcoming birthday. He also likes cash, pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain).

I Am Not a Nerd

As a result of a few conversations I had with family and friends this weekend, I've realized that there's a gross misconception out there that I'm a nerd.

Imagine my shock as that revelation slowly took hold. People think I'm a nerd? Me? A nerd? Me? ME???!?!?

I will admit that when I was much, much younger - like in early- to mid-childhood - somebody who knew me only casually might have reached the conclusion that in some small ways, my appearance and behaviour was somewhat nerd-like. Blame my mom for dressing me in polyester pants, and my sisters for being so numerous and stifling, and my dad for wearing horn-rimmed glasses and an abacus in his white shirt pocket (and for teaching me backgammon and ping pong instead of fishing and hunting). But appearances can deceive, and I think the fact that I was a kick-ass jacks player and hopscotch king should be taken into consideration before passing judgement.

(In the absence of a real picture from my childhood, I include below a representative likeness as an illustration of what I kind of, sort of, might have looked like back then).

Anyhow, that was then and this is now. I am decidedly not a nerd and I can prove it:

• Yes, I'm a math grad from Waterloo, but I only took the cool math courses AND I also took non-math electives like Forms of Fantasy, Arthurian Literature, and Future Studies
• Alright, I used to play Dungeons and Dragons...but my character was always a thief - the least nerdy character you can choose
• Sure, two of my favourite novel genres are Science Fiction and Fantasy, but I also read a lot of Historical Fiction. (I should mention that my recent foray into Scott Sigler's Galactic Football League series further illustrates how completely cool I am)
• I run - and not just from bullies
• Given that nerd-ism is an inherited trait, if I were a nerd, you'd expect my daughters to also be nerds, and they're not (I know this because we talked about it over a recent game of Settlers of Catan and they told me they're not)
• Despite having read all of the Game of Thrones books (so far) and watched both seasons, I don't own any paraphernalia (unless you count my "Winter is Coming" Stark mug at the office)
• While I watch Walking Dead religiously, I have never once watched Talking Dead or Comic Book Men (they're on after my bed time)
• And if all of that's not enough, consider this: Nerds constantly make stupid puns and have a really nerdy laugh. My laugh isn't nerdy at all.

QED

A Letter from the Dentist Triggers Pointless Meandering

My 3-year old received the following letter in the mail yesterday:

Dear Micaela,

 

This is a friendly reminder that you are overdue for your recall appointment. We value you as a patient and would like to encourage you to keep up with regular check-ups. We feel we can help you attain optimum dental health, which will allow you to require less overall treatment. We believe you are an asset to our practice and look forward to seeing you again.

 

After Micaela read the letter, she got quite upset.

 

"Dad," she said, "how did we let so much time pass since my last visit to the dental practice? I remember that we agreed to keep up on both the frequency and regularity of my appointments. Now there's a good chance that my dental health is sub-optimal and my treatment regimen is going to become quite onerous. What's worse, I feel like I've let everyone down. They value me, they believe I'm an asset, and now look how we've betrayed their team."

 

I love our dentist and his entire team. I recognize that I'm being completely unfair in singling them out for the very common crime of trying to communicate in a personalized way, while in fact doing the exact opposite. (I've heard some great stories about what can go wrong, my absolute favourite of which was from a work colleague who made some sort of complaint to a hotel manager and received a 'personalized' letter in response which had been photocopied with an attached post-it note saying "Send him the cockroach letter.")

 

But I'll use this letter to illustrate a few points:

 

Point 1: (The obvious one) If you are trying to send out a mass communication with a personal touch, try really, really hard to get it right, or don't bother at all. If your patients are valued, if they are an "asset to your practice", communicate with them in a genuine way. If you're just sending out an automated reminder, make it an automated reminder:

 

Dear Patient,

This automatic reminder has been sent because you are past due for you next appointment. Please call us.

 

Point 2: Don't pull out the big words when you're trying to send a simple message. Without being blatantly impersonal as in Point 1, this letter could have said:

 

Dear Micaela,

Where are you? It's time for your next appointment. In fact, you're a little late. Please call to set something up.

 

Point 3: When people get older, they like to get irate about really unimportant stuff. It makes them feel good to shake their cane at the world and say "In my day, ..." I feel like it's time I join their ranks:

 

In my day, this letter would have been delivered by a postman (yes, a post"man") dragging himself up to our front stoop with small dogs gnawing on each of his legs and a big friendly smile on his face, saying "Mornin' Hank - here's the post". (In my day, men called each other Hank).

 

Letter in hand, I would have summoned the whole family to the sitting room to open the letter together. Having heard their father's summons, all 3 of the girls would have come running in from the field - where they were busy doing their morning chores - kissed my cheek and sat dutifully, faces alight with anticipation at what the letter might say. They most certainly wouldn't be away at University getting an edu-m'cation.

 

In fact, instead of just the 3 of them, there would have been a whole brood gathered around - 14 kids in all - as we read the letter. And it would have said something like:

 

Dear Henrietta, (because that's what we called girls back then)

Now that you are 3 years old, we wanted you to know that one day soon it will be time for you to start coming to the dentist. For now, you can eat all the sweets you want because your teeth are going to fall out anyways.