We are in the season of gratitude and thank goodness for that.
“Count your blessings” is an age-old bromide, the stuff of greeting cards, and is sometimes a hard sell, especially when things aren’t going so great. Our mixed grill of messy character defects, jealousies and spitefulness, greedy-grabbies, melting ice caps, how thin our lashes are getting, and running out of single-origin Nicaraguan decaf coffee beans.
Flash of lightning. Clap of thunder. Enter Gratitude.
If there’s a day on which Gratitude is splashed all over social media and on Etsy wooden plaques, surely it’s Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving shouldn’t have the market cornered on giving thanks.
Gratitude is an interesting concept. It’s one of those qualities that everyone accepts you should do, but rarely do. Basically because we are often like little chemistry experiments, reacting everywhere we go. But the benefits that showing and feeling gratitude should not be reserved only for the day it’s most culturally expressed.
“As we express our our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not other words, but to live by them.” -John F. Kennedy
To be clear, and I may be preaching to the choir, I’m not saying that taking time to reflect and show appreciation for the good in life on Thanksgiving isn’t worthwhile, it’s surely a noble act. I love the rhythms, rituals and respite as much as anyone, it’s just that the very things that make the cornucopia of Thanksgiving so wonderful — the presence of family and friends, time off from work, and grateful that the meal is not salt beef, biscuits and mushy peas like the first Canadian Thanksgiving in 1578, (Martin Frobisher, I’m looking at you)—should not have purposeful expressions of gratitude only on this day.
So, enjoy the congregational company of other people — a live Russian roulette of strange cousins, people you haven’t seen since you were six, an aunt who has an unique way of expressing herself sartorially, or your recently divorced uncle’s new girlfriend.
Remember, Thanksgiving wouldn’t be a holiday meal without a little emotional scarring. And I mean this in the nicest possible way.
“After a good dinner, one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” -Oscar Wilde
We are supposed to gather, support one another, and relax. Yet on the other 364 days of the year, the ones when we might feel lonely, stressed, over-caffeinated—pausing to cultivate a sense of gratitude can make a big difference.
Giving thanks on all the other days can help ensure that in the future you’ll have many things to be grateful for because expressing gratitude acts as a kind of course correction, easing away our minds inculcated to see the wine glass as half empty. (Probably because we drank half of it.)
Gratitude does not mean Pollyanna sugar-coating the sadness, frustrations, and disappointments of life, pretending all is fine. But expressing a little gratitude offers a recess, like water to a soul. All evidence to the contrary, it doesn’t require much of anything. It’s a choice and costs nothing, except conscious attention and habit of often just ornate ordinary moments—and sometimes, these are the most important moments.
People who are consistently grateful are relatively happier, more energetic, and report experiencing a compelling desire to host Thanksgiving dinner—for the seventh year in a row.
“Nobody sees a flower really. It is so small. We haven’t time, and to see takes time.” -Georgia O’Keefe
Take a walk. A hike. A trek.
(Well, maybe not a trek.) Put on your chunky cable-knit sweater, a scarf forged in the fires of Anthropologie, comfortable underpants and sensible shoes, leg warmers, wrist warmers, and forehead warmers, and be astonished by the world. You can remember everything that is true and beautiful about life on any 30-minute walk in the city, in the country, among trees. Enjoy the views and the sacrament of dawdle, the mantle of maturity.
Dallying—now that’s the key. Then go home and take a nap.
“Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.” -Wendell Berry
Appreciate Yourself
Put on a better pair of glasses and say five good things to yourself first thing every morning as Anne Lamont quips “as if you were somebody you are fond of and wish to encourage.” Note: try to do this before checking your phone.
“Some people coud look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.” -Zora Neale Hurston
Start a Gratitude Journal
Write five things you are grateful for before going to bed. It is an incredibly small exercise—and sometimes incredibly hard, especially on those days when Uber Eats forgets to include one of the major items in your sandwich. It is doesn’t have to be great big huge—someone waved your car through backed up traffic, the customer in line allowed you to go ahead of them, your best friend texted you to see if they can drop off some not-dark chocolate.
“I always prefer to believe the best of everybody; it saves so much trouble.” -Rudyard Kipling
Tweak how we speak and think.
What we think and say, are things we mostly focus on. If we always talk about how bad a day we’ve had, how annoyed so-and-so and how such-and-such made us feel, this will inevitably make us soiled and smudged, bringing up even more feelings of irritation. Down that road, lies madness. Pay more heed to the loveliness of people, rather than the crankiness of people. We don’t have that kind of time to waste in our “one wild and precious life”.
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes—including you.” -Anne Lamont
Do something for someone else.
Sometimes we are just tapped out. When this happens we need to loosen our waistband and get out of our head. The best way to do this is by focusing on someone else and doing something else. Pick up litter. Hold the door open for someone. Buy someone a coffee. Take blankets that you haven’t used in five years and drive them to the Mustard Seed. Something helpful. Something useful. Something kind. Something you can actually do.
I know the Dalai Lama is a big fan.
“Do not do unto others as you would have them do unto you; they may have very different tastes.” – Bernard Shaw
Say “Thank you” more often.
Saying “Thank you” is a basic block of polite society, one of the only things that separates us from squirrels. But often it is just a club password and not very meaningful. It’s not enough to simply feel grateful, we must express it as well. People aren’t mind readers. Don’t assume they know we are grateful. Try making a habit of a “Thank you” as the first and last email, text, or phone call of each day, and make it specific.
“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.” -Mark Twain
Savour positive moments.
It’s a mindset, slowing down, being present, savoring the moment. Forget slurping a pumpkin spice latte looking at your phone. Sit down somewhere cozy. Nibble a delicious cookie. Look around.
When success comes, really take the time to celebrate it. Any celebration, big or small, is really about taking a beat to notice the good stuff, a reminder of our talents and abilities, skills and persistence.
(All I know is that champagne is never a mistake.)
“There are three things I’ve learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.” -Lucy, It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown
Pay attention.
When you meet with another person, give them your undivided attention, even if they are talking about municipal zoning ordinances. Stop consulting the oracle of your iPhone, unless you are eagerly waiting to hear that they’ve procured an organ for your impending transplant. At the very least, the act of gratitude produces significant epigenetic changes in our health and body—and we just might be healing others along the way, keeping the whole shebang afloat.
We have a choice on what to focus on—the things that suck, or robins and sticky buns?
By the way, if anyone is alone on Thanksgiving, let me know. I need to borrow some chairs.
Flash of Lightning – Gratitude
October 12, 2024 by Leave a Comment
Roads I have known and loved
September 6, 2024 by
One of the simplest rules of life is to keep moving. Every now and then, it’s nice to venture out and find what’s going on in the real world. Summer is technically over. But there is still time before we’re knee deep in snow and ice. |
The open road beckons. To just go. To collect oneself. To be disencumbered. Questing. |
Yes, you have to be happy in your own kitchen, but there are also times when it is good to get out of the kitchen, especially when there’s nothing for dinner. |
There are many reasons to say yes to a semi-peripatetic adventure. I believe Socrates called this “The Creative Process.” |
My first step was to figure out what to wear. In other words, to maintain my own personal style, which if overheard mutterings are to be believed, often is known to defy description. But nothing adds intrigue quite like a soot coloured vintage garment with far too many miscellaneous stains on it. |
Believe me, it makes quite a statement. My benchmark – consistency. |
Setting out, I am always driven by the hope that I might see or hear something I’ve never seen or heard before. To furl a bit of rope. To escape, if only for a short while, the deadening quality of Netflix reruns. |
Travelling alone allows me to be as insufferable as I like, boring only myself with maps (which I can’t read anyway) and dirt roads. It allows me to be as antisocial and ornery as I want to be. Or more than usual. |
I am free of the need to entertain or converse, apologize for the weather or the frigid lake water. As if it was my fault. |
I’m “The Emirates Effect” companion for myself, as I don’t argue with myself and I don’t disagree. We’ve grown to enjoy each other’s company with vibrancy and care, although sometimes it’s a breeding ground for competition. In other words, a very arousing person with a cache of exhilarating stories to tell anyone who will listen, always making sure to tell the story from my point of view. |
Secondly, I am free to ignore street signs and landmarks, double-dip in the guacamole, and can sing to my favourite tunes with no one asking to change the playlist or to please stop singing. It’s cathartic. My mind is no longer on guard, mostly occupied with staying on my side of the road while holding my lidless coffee that I have no choice but to spill. |
Historically I have missed more turn-offs than many have had opportunities. Squinting at my navigation system, it stares back at me like a threat. I realized what a traitor it can be. On top of that, knowing my drive would be improved by listening to an audiobook, I was confounded by my inability to follow the plot, putting this down to my advancing years. It was only when I stopped for gas that I realized it was on “shuffle” mode. |
Nonetheless, solo travel does have its baggage. One, it gives you ample time to consider what you need to work on to improve as a person. And who needs that? |
And two – there often is bad Wi-fi, the chance of getting attacked by bandits, and a deep longing for fresher Cheetos. |
People ask me all the time – don’t you ever get lonely travelling by yourself? |
No, not really. I’ve never had a bout of loneliness that lasted more than a few years. Also, in a world of seven billion people, you’re going to talk to someone you connect with eventually. |
Where to Get Rid of Stuff
August 30, 2024 by
The gift economy—a system whereby goods are not sold but given away—has been around for as long as we’ve had things. The reasons for donating are manifold, ranging from the goodness of your heart to the benefit of selling a home quickly. And the best way to get rid of things you don’t need, is to get rid of things you don’t need. Altruism can often feel much better than the hassle of trying to sell stuff. You could probably make more money per hour by babysitting. And having a garage sale is a testament to the hours of preparation it takes to make $35. Stuff like mauve ruffled bedskirts. Tiny pillows with tassels. Letters that include details of your sister’s weight-loss journey. Spray starch left over from a former relationship. Souvenir dishtowels. Ill fitting bathing suits. A bewildering range of skin care products. As you surely have heard, the younger generations have little interest in inheriting the loot amassed by their baby-boomer parents. Silver, crystal, fondue sets, avocado slicers, partially consumed tub of cheese balls, nine-foot-tall toy giraffes you won at the Calgary Stampede—they want none of it. Finding new homes for your stuff can be a challenge. So where can all of this go? Mattresses The environmental impact of hauling an old mattress to the dump is substantial. It takes years for a mattress in a landfill to decompose, or else it’s burned, which is equally bad for the planet. Rest easy and take old mattresses and futons to Re-Matt. Bits and Bobs Tricky Trash, will take away the stuff you can’t give away — old batteries, old paint, expired medications, used razors — and make sure they’re delivered to the proper processing centre or recycler. Tricky Trash supplies you with a “Bits, Bobs, and Batteries” box, and, once full, takes it away on an electic bike for a $5 collection fee . Books If you don’t have the patience to sell your books to a reseller like Fair’s Fair or Pages, Books Between Friends will take your books off your hands. it’s a volunteer-run bookstore that gives profits to a variety of charitable organizations. Or stock some of the many Little Free Libraries scattered throughout Calgary. Craft and Sewing Supplies From that unfinished quilt project to extra fabric to the sewing machine gathering dust, the Ujamaa Grandmas Fabric and Yarn Sale will gladly take it for their annual spring fundraiser for the Stephen Lewis Foundation Grandmothers to Grandmothers campaign. I Ikea Furniture IKEA now has a sell-back program: you email them pictures and they email you back with what it’s worth in store credit. Note that the item needs to be brought into the store fully assembled — although not very convenient if you don’t own a truck. Electronics Electronic Recycling Association will take old electronics, and either fix, recycle or donate them to schools and charities in need. As part of a pilot project with Alberta Recycling Management Authority, The City of Calgary will also accept most anything with a power cord or battery — free of charge. Clothing and Household Items Donate to an organization like The Kidney Foundationor Diabetes Canada which sells cast-offs to Value Village and uses the proceeds for research. They’ll even come pick the stuff up. Investigate your charity well and put your items where they will do the most good. Two organizations to look into are WINS and Dress for Success, which both help women grow in our community. |
What The Cod!
August 27, 2024 by
“Who knit you?” |
There is a little place on a big island. A place where people who love words and who love stories and who love music come every year in August. At a dead end road. In Newfoundland. For a writers festival. Literary festivals are the beating heart of the literary world. They are among our last remaining democratic spaces and are the lungs of our societies, providing much needed oxygen, like evergreen forests, in an age increasingly shaped by hyper-information and speedy consumption. They are celebrations of words, stories, and the shared human experience, and by extension, the general population’s perception of the arts and their importance. And there’s no place in the world like the inimitable “Writers at Woody Point Festival”. |
“Writers of Woody Point” is about story, it’s about the power of story, it’s about the power of story to change our lives.” – Shelagh Rogers |
There is enchantment here. This place knits us back into the fabric of life. It’s more than just buying the T-shirt. It’s difficult to capture the essence of this festival in words, when it is indeed a festival celebrating words, to describe the magic one feels so profoundly in this place, which is why I keep coming back. I’m never unmoved or underwhelmed. It’s something that has to be experienced and lived in a sense. Once you get here, you know. It’s special. It can only happen here. This place is a convergence of something remarkable. Community-owned, rooted in places and families, gleefully independent. A celebration of the best of Newfoundland and Canadian literature, as well as music, poetry, art and everything in between. |
“If a Newfoundland writer is given 30 minutes on stage, they will read for two minutes and tell a story spontaneously, just talk in a really entertaining way for the other 28 minutes.” – Lawrence Hill |
There is no grand separation here between author and reader, nor a formal pedestal that authors are placed on. Here there is a level of attention and warmth. It’s a symbiotic thing. A back and forth. A balance of fun and profound. Of reverence and valuing of culture and storytelling. Of the efforts of people who value a paired down sense of home. So just how did a little festival in a little town on a dead-end road in Western Newfoundland start with almost no money and no real plan, turn into the “Writers at Woody Point” festival we know today? It may be something about being surrounded by the verdant and humbling landscape of Gros Morne National Park, or the upheaval of the earth’s crust that produced the Tablelands, the water, the heritage buildings, or just being under a canopy of stars. It does something to you. It makes you conscious of time in different ways, rethinking your organic relationships to place, to reflect on where you’ve come from, and where you might like to go next. |
People have lived on this site for thousands of years. The Beothuk, the Mikmaq, the Maritime Archaic, the Dorset and the Groswater. It’s a place where people came. Twelve generations now. We really should call it “Oldfoundland”. Over the years, Writers of Woody Point built on this natural setting, its wholesome community, and the willingness of authors and musicians to accept their invitation on faith. Gord Downie once opened the festival with Bobcaygeon, and Gordon Pinsent, the patron saint of the festival, once closed it with a recitation from the Tempest. |
“For a Canadian author, being invited to attend the Writers at Woody Point event in August is the equivalent of winning the Nobel Prize.” – Douglas Gibson, former president and publisher of McClelland and Stewart. |
A lot of big name writers and performers have come here since its inception in 2004. The list is long and illustrious. Gordon Pinsent. Rick Mercer. Peter Mansbridge. Louise Penny. Serena Ryder. Michael Crummey. Anne-Marie MacDonald. Waubgeshig Rice. Donna Morrissey. Bernard McClaverty. Elizabeth Hay. Guy Vanderhaegh. Wayne Johnston. Jim Cuddy. Des Walsh. Gail Anderson-Dargatz. Alastair MacLeod. Lawrence Hill. Sarah Polley. Bruce Cockburn. Gord Downie. Will Ferguson. Suzette Mayr. Sylvia Tyson. Michael Ondaatje. Miriam Toews. Margaret Atwood. Annie Proulx. William Prince. Alan Doyle. Mark Critch. Meg Wolitzer. The Once. Linden Macintyre. Madeleine Thien. Stephen Fearing. Ron Sexsmith. Sarah Harmer. |
It is magical because of the communal experience. There is trust between the audience, the authors, the musicians, and the artists. It’s a intimate gathering like we are old friends sitting in their living room. It’s a place to tell stories their way. Stories and songs of belonging and survival, of fragility and of strength. A place where you listen with a slight vulnerability, and with your heart. And to remember. There are numerous belly-laughs, there are tears, and for those who listen carefully, there is the ocean. |
Perhaps the most unique event of the festival is Writers in the Wild, a guided hike on one of the pristine Gros Morne trails with stops to witness dramatic, musical and literary performances. And on the final morning of the festival, the audience experiences David Ferry’s latest rendition of ShortWaves/Short Stories. Part live theatre, part radio drama, the production at times reminiscent of a Greek chorus. And then, the infamous late night multi-talented traditional music circle. |
If you want to “come home” next year, my advice would be to book accommodations about now. Festival tickets go online in May and are sold within minutes, as the venues are small. And that is how they want it. Which is another reason why it is the best festival in the world. And why, the deep roots of it all, cannot be found anywhere else, a fulcrum for writers, readers, and musicians, holding a mountain of stories and natural beauty, along with the province’s legendary kitchen-party hospitality of warmth, charm, humour, and unique turns of phrase. Woody Point gets it “write”. |
This is my last day here, so I’m going to go pick up some fish and chips, breathe a little more sea air, and take a walk along the coast, discovering again the “knitted version of me” in the bottom of a pair of hiking boots – and a good book. |
Hiking on the Roof of Europe
August 3, 2024 by
“The mountains belong to nobody, it is well-known, but the experiences belong to everyone. Many others can climb the mountains, but nobody can ever capture experiences that are remain ours.” – Walter Bonatti My flight was cancelled just hours before take-off due to the global software outage. Panicked, I finally managed to connect the airlines via phone. Within minutes they had rebooked me on another airline. So I re-laced my boots, picked up my suitcase and was off — to “hike on the roof of Europe”. During my long overseas flight, I had to talk to someone sitting next to me who was intensely confessional, had never read Joan Didion and who’d had—get this—veneers! They didn’t care if I’d been anywhere, or had ever listened to anything, or whether I even had eyes or ears —genuinely uninterested. I was trapped, unable to protect myself from one of life’s most unpleasant sensations. I mean, I have important things to do. Yes, you can talk to people, but they’re not always the people you want to talk to. Contrary to one’s most utmost wishes, it’s easier to find a traveling (seat) companion than to get rid of one. A muffin top of unpleasantness. Can you ever really be neutral on a moving plane? “Howdy, folks, this is your captain speaking. I’m going to go ahead and turn off the Fasten-Seat-Belt sign now. Whoops, that was the windshield wipers. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and leave the sign on. Buckle up for a fairly smooth eighteen hour flight from Calgary to Paris.” “Know that you are a special and unique snowflake, our first priority, and are the only people who truly care about you.” “Over the next eight, no ten hours, you will receive periodic updates…” “Sorry, folks, but our flight will be two hours late due to a mechanical issue. It appears that a few bolts somehow worked themselves loose during the last flight.” “Update: The bolts don’t seem very important, so the flight is scheduled to arrive on schedule.” “My apologies for the “mild turbulence” we’re going through. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Coming up on our left are the Rockies. Umm…maybe the Alps. No, no, do not look out the window—trust me.” Now I started to wonder. Do I need to keep a laser-tight focus on the flight attendant up front who looks sort of upset? Could it be something in her personal life, or did the pilot just inform her that the plane is going down? By the way, sitting for long stretches on a plane interferes with a body’s production of an enzyme called T.P.E.L., which you need or something. In fact, if you were to remain seated for the amount of time it takes to get to Paris, you could develop Type 2 diabetes. As background, given I had managed to come away mostly unscathed on my recent “W” trek in Patagonian Chile, except for hitting my head on a boulder and looking like I went five rounds in a boxing match, stressing my left knee on the second day enough that it hurt to walk down hill and on level ground (lucky that the trek didn’t have any straight patches and the uphill was only 50% of the trek), and forgetting to bring a large bottle of gin, I chose the mythical Mont Blanc massif, traversing three countries, France, Italy and Switzerland, thinking it couldn’t possibly be as brutal. Mont Blanc is the spiritual home of mountaineering, the birthplace of alpinism. Scenically, it has few rivals in the entire world. My home base was the storied town of Chamonix, tucked secretly away at the base of the sloping mountains. There is this insane thing called the Mont Blanc Running Tour, a trail that wraps like a 172 km. long lasso around the tallest mountain in the Alps. The fastest runners do it in less than 24 hours, climbing more than 10,000m., passing 71 glaciers and encountering 400 summits, chocolate box villages, sublime alpine meadows, snow-covered peaks, craggy fissures, and breath taking views of the stunning and imposing Mont Blanc. The race takes place every year over the last weekend of August and attracts up to 5000 competitors. Now on my first Mont Blanc trail, it didn’t take long to figure out that the operative word was not “hiking”. It was “climbing”. Slogging straight UP steep in uneven terrain, and cautiously straight DOWN steep in uneven terrain – a high cumulative altitude difference. In other words, a knee-grinder, the intense “paths” more in keeping with rock climbing walls. You wonder if you’re ever going to catch your breath. And yes, my trekking pole, like on the “W”, was my best friend. This adventure is not recommended for people with vertigo, altitude sickness, or afraid of the dark. We climbed ladders, stumbled through a very long pitch black tunnel, crampon-walked a glacier, clambered on wooden steps anchored into slippery rock faces, maneuvered loose gravel, rode a train running along the edge of the mountain, a tramway, a breath-stopping funicular rising at an astonishing 87 degrees, and the highest cable car in France, holding the world record for the highest vertical ascent, taking a spectacular 30 minutes. High above the green pastures on the bucolic valley floor is a balcony view of the mesmerizing fairytale landscapes punctuated by creaking glaciers, lush forest, bubbling streams, transparent mountain lakes offering razor-sharp reflections, rock debris, eternal snow-capped vertiginous peaks, and flower-strewn trails. A botanical blissful rainbow of sorts. A panoramic postcard. Something about a big, heart-gulping view can freeze you in place. As Robert Macfarlane put it in Mountains of the Mind, these landscapes can make one marvel at the forces necessary to knead sandstone. Where has this been my entire life? There was so much world. The changing flank of the mountains form a long sweeping cradle, so high that clouds frequently got stuck trying to pass over the great sleeping beasts. More than enough fuel for wanderlust. Going within and meeting no one else for hours is not possible here. You won’t find much solitary “wilderbliss” or alone-time here. An estimated 200,000 hikers, mountain bikers, and trail runners travel some sections of the TMB each year. I was just one more. “Beautiful as what we see. More beautiful is what we understand. Most beautiful is what we do not comprehend.” – Nicolas Steno Nevertheless, I choose to live in presence with the collaging tangle of trees and sky, earth and breath, luxuriating in the magnificent wild. I heard the distant roar of waterfalls born high in the mountains crashing below, and supine cows serenading with arrhythmic cowbells foretelling delicious cheese. I walked past a stone fortification, a reminder of darker days when Italy fought against France and the Allies during World War II, across streams of opalescent waters, clambered across boulders, admired aiguilles (mountaintop needles), followed twisting paths, sampled wild raspberries, strawberries and blueberries, and stopped often to enjoy the sea of alpine foliage, the sun high and strong, the soft katabati wind cooling my skin. Micro experiences that knocked my socks off. The real genius of the trails is that whenever you sense indifference with the vestiges of verdant lush foliage, bluebird skies, and the jaw dropping views of the iconic mountain and its neighbouring spires, it quickly takes umbrage and shakes you back to life. A reminder that you can both have your head in the clouds and feet on the ground. I will miss feeling so involved in something so big: the most spectacular and quintessentially alpine landscapes, the constant sweat and burn of sustained effort and the joyous reward of a newly earned and compelling mountain vista. From the moment I laced up my hiking boots to my final Apersol Spritz, every steep step was about the Dostoyevsky-ian necessary and inevitable “the pain is the point” empowerment, embracing perfect freedom, and the beauty of “the journey is the destination”, making for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. An infinite succession of presents. These are the moments that matter. Another adventure to look back on for the rest of my life. And to remember who I am. Simply put, “C’est incroyable!” Au revoir. Caio. Auf wiedersehen. |
The Right To Roam
July 29, 2024 by
The thing about travel—it’s not always easy. Most of us skid in like Kramer from Seinfeld, oblivious to our fraught relationship with travel. It has its perils and it has its pitfalls. Sometimes I wonder, looking down the tracks to nowhere familar, where did such breathtaking self-assurance come from? I know, you want an explanation why listening (while uttering something about spelling, punctuation and my tendency to ramble) to any of my travel advice is a good idea, in that I have been living in an unparalleled cosmos of missed turns, surprises, letdowns, failed efforts, “scenic tours”, and wrong destinations for decades, citing many to advise, with great tact and delicacy, to retire my luggage. He who seeks will probably find — something else. You know what they say: with great power, comes great ways to get lost. Long distance flights are the kind we Canadians have to take in order to get anywhere, really. Also, it’s the only way to get away from the snow and zero temperatures to get to pellucid waters — the fulfillment of some dubious romantic dream. I’m always reading about pellucid waters in exotic places, but I’m not quite sure what it means. One more drink and I’ll be pellucid? Travelling is one of the greatest joys in life. The novelty being that you will be not doing what you want to do most at great expense in blistering heat in a foreign country whilst not having any idea where the corkscrew is and this experience will in turn make you wonder: What’s the point of life on earth? |
Nevertheless, I’m not a fan of minute plans, decisions out of a guidebook, of seeing the same things with the mob, the environmental impact of set-jetting, the selfie culture, hitch hiking on the top of a truck, or conquering unknown lands. A daily itinerary is kryptonite to me. I also require inhibition-melting fortification to travellers whose curiosity about a foreign country is limited to what they can eat or buy. Organizational skills are also commendable, but do you ever really need to pack three flashlights? You know there’s a light on your phone, right? It is also helpful to be able to say things in many languages, like “Hello”, “Lite mayonnaise”, and “What is the Wi-Fi password? Because who doesn’t need to know that Eddie Murphy got married again. He has ten children. I’m just sharing that because that is a lot of children. It is also preferable to not feel compelled to do anything you are uncomfortable doing, like missions to find keys, seashells and blackberries. In that order. Nevertheless, voyeuristic with itchy feet, I prefer to wander around and find what I find, trying to get beneath the surface of a place, to figure out what it’s like to live there. It’s an act of processing the world around me. I seem to gravite to The Road Less Travelled, mainly because nobody else seems to be on it—ever. I am not a traveller who always travels alone, but one who travels in solitude. As they say, discretion is the better part of valour. Yes, there is justification for an escorted tour: economy, security, companionship, someone to handle the customs, language, luggage and meals, but for me, it’s a last resort. Unless it’s North Korea. Nevertheless, at the end of the day, travel’s pleasures are undeniable. To settle for less is a chore. |
Think Outside the Lawn
June 11, 2024 by
The Bane of the Brown Thumb You know good landscaping when you see it. First impressions begin as soon as buyers pull up to a home, and poor landscaping is one of the biggest turn-offs. You want buyers to imagine themselves making the house their future home – not clouding those thoughts with judgments. Ultimately, it’s staging the front yard, and this is just as important as what’s inside. |
BEFORE AFTER |
Plant somethingOne of the quickest and most impactful things to spice things up is to add colour and interest by planting flowers and shrubs. They breathe life into the property. A thoughtfully composed front garden affects first impressions. It conveys a welcoming feeling as well as protraying stability and care. It’s quick and cost-effective. |
Create a Cohesive Color Scheme Aim for colour, contrast, and balance. Contrast dictates what our eye sees first, like a pot of yellow flowers against red brick.The best gardens are full of layers, mixing different heights and textures, the tallest in the back and the shortest plants in the front.Once planted, surrounding the flowers and shrubs with fresh mulch or wood chips, a scattering of large rocks or stepping stones can really tie it all together.Mulch and medium-size wood chips give extra colour, texture and contrast—also helping with the spread of weeds and keeping the soil moist. Avoid dyed mulches, which contain contaminants. |
A great trick is to add decorative pots planted with annuals in any bare spots. |
Setting out ceramic or wicker planters filled with flowers or plants on the porch, in the garden, or flanking the front door is an instant “best bang for your buck.” |
Install window boxes or hang baskets filled with flowers and trailing plants. |
The Back Up Singer
May 28, 2024 by
Home staging is like being a backup singer to the house, the star. As a backup singer, you have to be good, but—you cannot overshadow Lady Gaga. |
To the rescue: HOME STAGING. Staging isn’t as easy as one might think, and possible for it to go desperately wrong, even when you think it looks right. It’s like a professional makeover a person gets before the big dance. If done correctly, it’s fabulous, but if not…it’s as useless as a hairstylist in a hurricane. Here is what not to do: |
1. Overdoing the spaceNo one likes an empty house. (It’s an old line from way back in time. Take it from me.) The goal of home staging is to help buyers visualize what the house could look like once they own it, presenting a subtle, welcoming feeling, not smacking them in the head with design, decor, details as soon as they open the front door – a muffin top of unpleasantness. Sucessful staging should boost the selling features of a home, not the other way around. Every nook and cranny should not be overfilled, nor should it look sterile, devoid of warmth. A little lost, a little aimless. Vaguely dispirited. |
2. Displaying fake thingsIf someone suggests a nice bowl of plastic fruit, washable flowers, silk plants, fake television, or anything inflatable, run in the other direction. It does not spark joy, and is just plain tawdry. And well, fake. But more importantly, it will distract and derail the buyers’ imagination. It will be a reminder that this is not real, signalling that the home isn’t, for example, hospitable to plants, making them wonder, “Do live plants not get enough sunlight in this home?” These thoughts could lead buyers to wonder what else is wrong, maybe even point to poor home maintenance, or thinking that other areas were possibly ‘faked’. |
3. Not staging rooms to scaleWhat home seller doesn’t want to create the illusion of space? To do that, one might assume to use smaller, lighter weight items.Au contraire! That tactic can actually dwarf a home. Instead, the furniture and accessories need to match the room in scale and proportion. In other words: If there is a huge family room with a vaulted ceiling, don’t use a two-seater sofa and tiny coffee table. Or a four person table in a dining room. (Depending on the room size, it should seat at least six.) If the furniture is too small or out of porportion, the space will scream “not enough room for life in this house.” Just because it fits, doesn’t mean it actually fits. |
4. Staging the entire home in one aestheticEven if you’re selling a restored Victorian, buyers might not want to see oil lamps and fainting couches in every room. They are trying to envision themselves—and everything they already own—in the space.To help them get there, showcasing eclectic furniture proves to buyers their mismatched furniture will also go great in the house. The goal is to create the feeling of home, not a bewildered walk through a museum. |
5. Keeping doors closedDoors were made to be opened. Having buyers able to walk through the house without thinking is hugely important. I have seen entire rooms missed because a door was closed, as the buyer assumed the door was a closet rather than a door into another room. Something that has baffled scientists to no end. |
6. Going too neutralI know some may be clutching their pearls at the idea of gray (and white) going by the wayside – as the two (seemingly timeless) tones have been at the forefront of decorating agendas for decades. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with a neutral colour scheme, but if everything is ivory and beige, or gray and white, it won’t make the home stand out from the competition. Scheduled to appeal to the largest swath of anybody who might buy it within the next 25 years and essentially as vibrant as a bowl of cold porridge, it could also make buyers want to pull a duvet over their head and go to sleep. I’m not saying the home should look like it jumped out of a Crayola box of crayons, but it should have a bit of appeal—pops of colour here and there, and one or two rooms that don’t look like every other room in the house (and on the planet). They become little gifts— small infusions of warmth and life. The result? After a potential buyer has seen 10 houses—in one day—they will have an easier time recalling your listing. |
There are three responses to a well staged home. Yes, No, and WOW! Wow! is the one to aim for.If the buyer says, “I have no idea who lives here, but it has to be me“, then you both win.Well, that’s all I have for today, unless you want to know more about plastic fruit, and I’m going to assume that’s a no. |
Can We Stop For Coffee?
April 9, 2024 by
Today is National Coffee Day. Well it’s actually on October 1 or September 29, but I have a tendency to make up my own national holidays like, Chocolate Covered Anything Day, Organize Your Home Day, Lost Sock Memorial Day. |
Coffee is one of the best things in my life. It’s officially a full-blown lifestyle; a complex and nuanced experience. Besides, anything I lavish with attention will become a portal on the meaning of life. After all, we are defined by our passions. Starting the day with coffee helps me to remember things like how to say words and put on pants. I never speak until shots of espresso have been thrown back like tequila. Then things really start to percolate. |
It all began at about age 3 when my mother gave me percolated coffee laden with white sugar and thick cream, and pressed a cup into my tiny little hands to hopefully keep me satisfied and quiet as she worked in the garden. I understood the deal immediately—if I stayed in my baby cage on wheels, I would be rewarded with something really tasty that had a straw. Sold. |
Since then I’ve had coffee all over the world. A café con leche in Seville, a cortado in Buenos Aries, a cappuccino at Pike Place, a Turkish coffee in Paris (that kept me awake for three days, as I lack the gene that allows me to fall asleep at the infusion of caffeine), a flat white in Adelaide, a Vienna coffee in the historic Cafe Frauenhuber, an Irish coffee in Galway, an expresso in Lisbon, a café de ollacafé in Ixtapa, a cafe cubano in Havana, a kopi tubruk in Bali, a yuanyang in Hong Kong, a frappe in Athens, a batch brew in the famous Cafe Louvre in Prague, a café au lait on Bourbon Street in New Orleans…but unfortunately, a coffee in London was just toasted milk. |
I have to tell you. The other day while I was having my cappuccino in Starbucks, I saw this guy. He didn’t have an iPhone, iPad, or a laptop. He was just sitting there. Drinking coffee. Like a sociopath. Legend has it that coffee’s great potential was discovered by an Ethiopian goat herder who noticed how strung out his goats were after eating the coffee berry, and wouldn’t sleep at night. A fate befallen a lot of us. |
Now here’s the million dollar question. Will skip buying a coffee make me a millionaire? Esteemed economists vehemently advise against buying your grande cinnamon dulce latte everyday—which is absolutely an item that people still purchase and the place at which they purchase it—because it costs $alot.95 Now, if I have the math right, the median price of a home in the Calgary is around $567,900, which means that if you just skipped your one coffee per day, you could save up enough cash to buy your dream house in just over three hundred years. (Although, by that time, the median home price will probably be closer to one or two quadrillion dollars—so you might want to skip your twocoffees a day.) If you also stop smoking, you could probably save gobs more. They also advise to save at least 20% of your income for retirement. You should also put 25% of your income into an emergency fund, 30% into the stock market, 19% into a college fund for your children, and 17% toward self-help books. It may seem like that doesn’t leave a whole lot of wiggle room for other expenses, but don’t worry—you won’t even notice those missing six million dollars. |
Now there is a crucial skill to penny-pinching. Ask any doctor about the secret to weight loss, and they’ll say a great first step is to take the stairs. I think the same goes for saving money. Not only is avoiding elevators scientifically proven to make you healthy and saving doctor visits, but scaling thirty-six stories every day will teach you to withstand incredible amounts of prolonged discomfort. I mean, you can’t argue with science. |
But as an esteemed interior designer/stylist/stager/medium-heavy furniture mover, I came up with some better tips to not further separate you from financial security, because the thought of being deprived of something you really enjoy is obviously not that appealing. After all, it’s all about what sparks joy. Ask for a raise. Qualify for a side hustle, like taking up harbinger embroidery or making car detailing videos. unwanted items. There are Web sites, such as NeverLikedItAnyway.com, that will buy your ex’s leavings, ranging from engagement rings to “Golden Girls” socks. Or any collection amassed in the nineties. Have a garage sale: a testament to the hours of preparation it takes to make $35. Consign any clothes that look better on your couch than on you, or in a colour that does not do anyone any favours. Become a professional sleeper. You may even get a new sleep mask or prototype pillow for your time. Wait in line for someone…for a concert ticket, a new gadget, or a parking permit renewal. Plus, you can listen to acerbic podcasts pontificating on camper van holidays while you wait. |
P.S. Always tip your barista. By the way, if anyone is in the market for a Betamax… |
Sald for President
April 1, 2024 by
Research has shown that the vast majority of blogs are boring. Clearly there’s an immense demand for boring blogs.I say—give the people what they want. I have been blogging for an indeterminate amount of years. Basically, because it gives me less time to observe people and discuss their shortcomings in a group setting, and secondly, I don’t have to get out of my jammies and make small talk. You’ve got to keep your feet on the ground, right? Blogging is seemingly a pursuit for adults who presumably have something worth saying, so they can record it more perfectly in public. And I mean this in the best possible way.We are social beings. We like to read about people that like what we like, and about people who don’t like what we don’t like. This social aspect comes in handy when conversation stalls at a cocktail party. Reading blogs is a great activity for socially awkward people, as well as a relaxing, fun and beneficial way to spend a couple of minutes after a complex full-body workout. In light of this, I did a considerable amount of research an hour ago about how to grow my audience from “I don’t know”, to a handful more each year. |
Here’s what they said:Write posts that would reproduce well on a cocktail napkin. In other words, refrain from writing long entries like describing a woman exiting a freeway or a synopsis of weird salad recipes from South Carolina. |
Give them a quick read so they can visit for 8 seconds and then get on with their day. The human brain is tricky like that. It’s part of its defence mechanism to let go of some information to make room for other, more pertinent data, like what ingredients they need for their salad. |
Be Original and Kreative. A lot of online readers are easily distracted by shiny objects and emails coming in about Nicholas Cage’s movies, ranked from not good to worst. |
Ask them to listen to soft jazz, rather than pop hits that encourage them to sing along to the lyrics. |
Skillfully deliver very annoying characters, so they can’t stop thinking about how they are like characters from books they once enjoyed reading as a small child. |
Include politically correct pictures. |
Remember to remain aloof and disconnected. And DO NOT read online comments or listen to what other people think about what you blogged. (Like the one I received yesterday. “There is no power on earth, or money, that could make me read this unless I was both sedated and in a straitjacket.”) |
Place emphatic words of a sentence at the end. Like “Aha!”. |
Avoid office politics. Especially if you want to boost your social life. |
Encourage them to look up any words they don’t know in a large, hard-bound dictionary that strains their wrists just from holding it. |
Include a murder investigation every so often to liven things up. |
Minimize flashing effects as they have a negative impact on the quality of their reading session. |
Remember, the only thing you need from your audience is applause. Maybe money. |
But sometimes, harsh rules and rigidity can cause people to lose enthusiasm. So, I think you should cut yourself some slack every now and then. 1. Give up on a blog if you’re not enjoying it after the first 20 seconds. (If only I could have done that with a few relationships.) Statistics report that 40% of people go doggedly to the end, like a bad marriage. A mistake. |
2. Make it fun by choosing the emoticon matching your emotional state at the end of each reading session with an app.3. Read it in an alternate location or with a different drink. Example. Maui with a Mai Tai. |
4. Turn it into a competition if that’s what it takes. Because that’s what makes you unique and special. You know I’m not a fan of sincerity.5. Have a diet that does not lack in important nutrients so it does not diminish your ability to focus. Simple carbohydrates and refined sugars will always make you feel better. But be extremely rigid about breakfast foods – Everybody Must Get Sconed. 6. Adjust your reading position. Posture plays a significant role. |
7. Drink as much coffee as you want. There is no question about it. Coffee is an amazing drink. It has a plethora of benefits for our bodies and minds. Caffeine, that magical substance.8. Bribe yourself. A reward/consequence system like a piece of chocolate every 20 seconds. Or a nice bubble bath at the end? Adopt airport rules and have a drink at 9 AM. Anything. As long as it keeps you going. Bartender…! |
Signed, Miss Spellings P.S. This blog would’ve been shorter if I had more time. |
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