OK, now I finally get it. The other day I saw a guy out walking (or maybe it was jogging) and he had a pooch in a stroller. How ridiculous is that. Well, apparently, not very....
Today I was reading some back clippings, stuff I'd saved for a time such as this, and I read about the doggie strollers that are like baby jogging strollers. Isn't the whole point of a dog, though, to let them get some exercise?
Continuing in this vein, there's a store in Toronto devoted to dogs, and it sells school uniforms (yes, for dogs), hoodies, tennis dresses, Hawaiian shirts and even wedding dresses. (I wonder -- if it's a same sex marriage, who gets to wear the dress??)
Lastly, there's a much bigger trend in small dogs, like Yorkies, daschunds, chihauhaus, etc. because of the travel lifestyle, and the ease of being able to carry a dog on board when it's as small as that.
Now all we need is for Al-Quaeda to figure out how to make a walking suicide bomb out of a lapdog.
Friday, August 11, 2006
On Being Inoffensive
I've just finished reading a great book on writing, by Sol Stein. His last chapter talks about the writer as shill, the one who will write inoffensive pap in order to put food on the table, or in my case to pay the orthodontic bills so that my kids will have a perfect, even set of choppers.
This leads to what I write in order to pay said doc. I write decorating stories about model homes and model suites -- those lovely little airless vignettes intended to dictate to the consumer what an interior should look like. The mantra should read like a William Morris anti-statement: I will have nothing interesting, unusual, beautiful or even remotely functional in my home.
After a year and a half of writing this mindless drivel, I can tell you pretty much that 90% of these builders don't know what it's like to live in the real world. And, incidentally, most of them are men.
You can't imagine how many pictures I get of "lovely" furniture (for the most part, cheap offshore construction, dark stain on particle board with a plastic varnish to give it the durability that will withstand the abuse the public can give out.) If you can unglue your eyes from the arresting decor for a moment, though, you'll notice all the flaws. Like electrical outlets in places they have no business being, and several of them clustered together. These little white squares are jarring on an expanse of builder beige or taupe.
Layouts: formal front living and dining rooms pay lip service to the name and function of these spaces. In reality, they look more like doctor's waiting rooms, uncomfortably crammed into the small space beside the door.
Corridors, Scarlet O'Hara staircases, double height ceilings with no sense of proportion or scale, eat up a goodly portion of these monstrous homes, so that if you parse it down to room sizes, it's clear that these subdivision homes have precious little more room than a standard three-bedroom semi in the heart of the city.
OK, that's enough for now. I will continue my rant anon.
This leads to what I write in order to pay said doc. I write decorating stories about model homes and model suites -- those lovely little airless vignettes intended to dictate to the consumer what an interior should look like. The mantra should read like a William Morris anti-statement: I will have nothing interesting, unusual, beautiful or even remotely functional in my home.
After a year and a half of writing this mindless drivel, I can tell you pretty much that 90% of these builders don't know what it's like to live in the real world. And, incidentally, most of them are men.
You can't imagine how many pictures I get of "lovely" furniture (for the most part, cheap offshore construction, dark stain on particle board with a plastic varnish to give it the durability that will withstand the abuse the public can give out.) If you can unglue your eyes from the arresting decor for a moment, though, you'll notice all the flaws. Like electrical outlets in places they have no business being, and several of them clustered together. These little white squares are jarring on an expanse of builder beige or taupe.
Layouts: formal front living and dining rooms pay lip service to the name and function of these spaces. In reality, they look more like doctor's waiting rooms, uncomfortably crammed into the small space beside the door.
Corridors, Scarlet O'Hara staircases, double height ceilings with no sense of proportion or scale, eat up a goodly portion of these monstrous homes, so that if you parse it down to room sizes, it's clear that these subdivision homes have precious little more room than a standard three-bedroom semi in the heart of the city.
OK, that's enough for now. I will continue my rant anon.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Spare Tires and all
Belinda wrote an interesting reflection today on her blog about flabbiness and eating properly, and the spiritual analogy to that.
I'd like to add that when Jesus was speaking to the Jews about daily bread, life was hard. They were hungry, so a piece of bread was a big deal. He was saying I am your daily bread.
Now, however, the tables have completely turned. We have TOO much to eat, we are flabby and overweight. I would also say that spiritually we're overweight as well -- too much puffy feeling, and not enough discipline. I know that sounds kind of harsh, and there's long been the need of a correction in the feeling department (I grew up in an age when telling your kids you love them was just not done!).
But we are so concerned that everyone gets "fed" on the heavenly bread, that we're not focusing too much on the heavenly diet and exercise program!
Belinda's reflection was so right about saying what I put in my body today, shows up in a few days or months, and likewise spiritually. But have we really broken that down to see what it means in concrete terms?
For one thing, it means obedience to God's word and will. When I let my kids do what they want, they are restless and unhappy, without moorings. When I'm too strict, they are uptight and nervous.
It also means not ingesting too much of a bad thing, so our flirtations with pop culture, no matter how much control we think we have on ourselves or our kids, can be courting disaster if not kept in check. A little junk food now and then is fine, but a steady diet of it will make you weak, not able to think clearly, and craving more.
I'd like to add that when Jesus was speaking to the Jews about daily bread, life was hard. They were hungry, so a piece of bread was a big deal. He was saying I am your daily bread.
Now, however, the tables have completely turned. We have TOO much to eat, we are flabby and overweight. I would also say that spiritually we're overweight as well -- too much puffy feeling, and not enough discipline. I know that sounds kind of harsh, and there's long been the need of a correction in the feeling department (I grew up in an age when telling your kids you love them was just not done!).
But we are so concerned that everyone gets "fed" on the heavenly bread, that we're not focusing too much on the heavenly diet and exercise program!
Belinda's reflection was so right about saying what I put in my body today, shows up in a few days or months, and likewise spiritually. But have we really broken that down to see what it means in concrete terms?
For one thing, it means obedience to God's word and will. When I let my kids do what they want, they are restless and unhappy, without moorings. When I'm too strict, they are uptight and nervous.
It also means not ingesting too much of a bad thing, so our flirtations with pop culture, no matter how much control we think we have on ourselves or our kids, can be courting disaster if not kept in check. A little junk food now and then is fine, but a steady diet of it will make you weak, not able to think clearly, and craving more.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Little Decor Tip
Came across this little tip for transforming a regular door into a French door. Not sure if the link I've posted will work.
Add the look of a pretty French door. This is a great way to give a plain interior door an intriguing treatment. Have a mirror cut to the size of the interior door panel and add muntins painted to match the door.
Add the look of a pretty French door. This is a great way to give a plain interior door an intriguing treatment. Have a mirror cut to the size of the interior door panel and add muntins painted to match the door.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
God is good
More on the niece. She caused a disturbance at a downtown church and because there wasn't her usual support group present, the clergy called the police, who then took her to the hospital. This was a good thing, a very good thing, though she is furious. The psychiatrist ran tests, both blood work and whatever psychiatric tests are necessary, and then they transferred her to the psych ward of a different hospital. While I feel sorry for her being in a panic to get out, I am so thankful that she is finally getting a) a proper assessment and b) meds and treatment.
The other thing that came of all this was the revelation that there's quite a substantial support group that she has, good people who worry about her, buy her clothes when she needs them, help her find work, listen and talk to her, and actually like and respect her. It's generally believed that she is much worse now than she was a couple of years ago, before heading to Quebec City, and that she is more aggressive. But at the same time, she feels very deep upset at not being able to care for herself in a proper adult way, and grief over not having a marriage, home, family, and so on. These things I understand.
So, I've been able to connect a couple of social workers with some people DH knows so she can get some housing help, get her into a stable living arrangment, so that she can heal partially. Oh, and the other thing -- much of her behaviour is directly related to her being high almost all the time. Likely on street drugs, like crack. As desperate and grim as all that sounds, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Until of course the next tunnel appears. But that's life. And you gotta deal.
The other thing that came of all this was the revelation that there's quite a substantial support group that she has, good people who worry about her, buy her clothes when she needs them, help her find work, listen and talk to her, and actually like and respect her. It's generally believed that she is much worse now than she was a couple of years ago, before heading to Quebec City, and that she is more aggressive. But at the same time, she feels very deep upset at not being able to care for herself in a proper adult way, and grief over not having a marriage, home, family, and so on. These things I understand.
So, I've been able to connect a couple of social workers with some people DH knows so she can get some housing help, get her into a stable living arrangment, so that she can heal partially. Oh, and the other thing -- much of her behaviour is directly related to her being high almost all the time. Likely on street drugs, like crack. As desperate and grim as all that sounds, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Until of course the next tunnel appears. But that's life. And you gotta deal.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Gender specific decor
Lately, my daughter has been playing a video game called Animal Crossing. In it, these little gremlin-like animals putter around their community, knocking on each other's doors, receiving mail, finding things at the dump, trading up or down for goods -- larger homes, decorative items, etc.
While it does bother me that the DIY home remodeling craze has hit such a young demographic, there's something anthropologically interesting about the choices of each of my children (13 year old son plays too).
Today, A proudly showed off her new home. Inside was a splendid fuschia and green oriental carpet, and wallpaper that resembled an ivy-covered brick wall that you might see in a garden. It was really quite a stunning tableau. She then "took" me over to her brother's house to see what he had in his lair. There was a couch, a TV, a fridge and stove (no sink, however, because who needs to wash dishes or lettuce leaves?), a dinosaur skeleton, a ping pong table, and a bobbing bird "perpetual motion" kind of toy.
How telling is that?
While it does bother me that the DIY home remodeling craze has hit such a young demographic, there's something anthropologically interesting about the choices of each of my children (13 year old son plays too).
Today, A proudly showed off her new home. Inside was a splendid fuschia and green oriental carpet, and wallpaper that resembled an ivy-covered brick wall that you might see in a garden. It was really quite a stunning tableau. She then "took" me over to her brother's house to see what he had in his lair. There was a couch, a TV, a fridge and stove (no sink, however, because who needs to wash dishes or lettuce leaves?), a dinosaur skeleton, a ping pong table, and a bobbing bird "perpetual motion" kind of toy.
How telling is that?
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
More on Oddballs
Feeling a little ashamed of my not-so-secret desires to keep away from my crazy niece, especially after seeing the movie Elf. For those not in the know, Will Farrell plays a 30-year-old elf who doesn't realize he's a person and has acquired very strange (elf) habits, like eating only candy. He visits his people family -- the father who left his mom and him behind 30 years before, the new step-mom, the 12-year-old half-brother. Everyone is very much bothered by Elf when he first arrives. He's weird, he doesn't fit in, he does strange things, he breaks stuff. But he is fun, and all he wants is to be loved by his dad, and his extended family. I was almost more worried about having her stay with me in case she let the dog out. Better that she sleep on the street than the dog does, right?
That said, my niece is 37 years old and she has lived on her own for the past 18 years, shuffling back and forth between rooming houses, seedy apartments, Vancouver, San Fran, Quebec City, and so on.
She won't take any help, institutional or psychiatric, because she doesn't think there's anything wrong with her. Maybe in a way she's right. She takes her welfare check and either spends it on second hand clothes, drugs, or gives money away to others. She pats children on the head and tells them they're beautiful. (Kids, interestingly enough, like her.) She says the police are brutes, which may be true, and that psychiatrists are sick and often alcoholic (also possibly true).
That said, my niece is 37 years old and she has lived on her own for the past 18 years, shuffling back and forth between rooming houses, seedy apartments, Vancouver, San Fran, Quebec City, and so on.
She won't take any help, institutional or psychiatric, because she doesn't think there's anything wrong with her. Maybe in a way she's right. She takes her welfare check and either spends it on second hand clothes, drugs, or gives money away to others. She pats children on the head and tells them they're beautiful. (Kids, interestingly enough, like her.) She says the police are brutes, which may be true, and that psychiatrists are sick and often alcoholic (also possibly true).
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