Happy New Year! Here's to 2011!!

Early this morning, I came across this inspirational poem by Don Herold, an American (born in Indiana)   humorist, writer, illustrator and cartoonist who wrote and illustrated many books and was a contributor to national magazines.

I think it's an inspiring read, as we begin to say goodbye to the old year and welcome the start of a new one.

The New Year is a perfect time to reset some goals, envision new ones and strive for some semblance of balance in our chaotic world.

If nothing else, this poem will have you question your own life.

Are you where you want to be?

Are you doing the things you want to do?

Are you surrounding yourself with people who bring out the best in  you?

Are you pleased with your existence?

Can you make any changes to improve your current set-up in life?
Take a closer look.
Maybe this is the year to get off that endless "tapis roulant"/treadmill LIFE TRAP and start doing things that truly matter.
Laugh more.

Hug more.

Be silly.

Make mistakes, make more mistakes, learn from your mistakes and stop striving for perfection.

Seek out people who inspire relaxation, a sense of adventure, fun.

Seek out people who warm your soul.

Here is to NEW goals and a NEW outlook for life in 2011!!!!

Happy Read and Happy New Year!!

A poem by Don Herold

Of course, you can't unfry an egg, but there is no law against thinking about it.

If I had my life to live over, I would try to make more mistakes.
I would relax.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I know of very few things that I would take seriously.

I would be less hygienic.

I would go more places.

I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.

I would eat more ice cream and less bran.

I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary troubles.
You see, I have been one of those fellows who lived prudently and sanely, hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I have had my moments.
But if I had it to do over again, I would have more of them - a lot more.
I never go anywhere without a thermometer, a gargle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had it to do over, I would travel lighter.

It may be too late to unteach an old dog old tricks, but perhaps a word from the unwise may be of benefit to a coming generation. It may help them to fall into some of the pitfalls I have avoided.

If I had my life to live over, I would pay less attention to people who teach tension.
In a world of specialization we naturally have a superabundance of individuals who cry at us to be serious about their individual specialty.

They tell us we must learn Latin or History; otherwise we will be disgraced and ruined and flunked and failed. After a dozen or so of these protagonists have worked on a young mind, they are apt to leave it in hard knots for life.

I wish they had sold me Latin and History as a lark.

I would seek out more teachers who inspire relaxation and fun.
I had a few of them, fortunately, and I figure it was they who kept me from going entirely to the dogs.
From them I learned how to gather what few scraggly daisies I have gathered along life's cindery pathway.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefooted a little earlier in the spring and stay that way a little later in the fall. I would play hooky more. I would shoot more paper wads at my teachers. I would have more dogs. I would keep later hours. I'd have more sweethearts. I would fish more. I would go to more circuses. I would go to more dances. I would ride on more merry-go-rounds. I would be carefree as long as I could, or at least until I got some care- instead of having my cares in advance.

More errors are made solemnly than in fun. The rubs of family life come in moments of intense seriousness rather that in moments of light-heartedness. If nations - to magnify my point - declared international carnivals instead of international war, how much better that would be!

G.K. Chesterton once said, "A characteristic of the great saints is their power of levity. Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly. One 'settles down' into a sort of selfish seriousness; but one has to rise to a gay self-forgetfulness. A man falls into a 'brown study'; he reaches up at a blue sky."

In a world in which practically everybody else seems to be consecrated to the gravity of the situation, I would rise to glorify the levity of the situation. For I agree with Will Durant that "gaiety is wiser than wisdom."

I doubt, however, that I'll do much damage with my creed. The opposition is too strong. There are too many serious people trying to get everybody else to be too darned serious.

Will leave you all with one of my all time favorite songs by Colin Hay, the lead singer from Men At Work.

His lyrics are precious.

How do you help a person going through an existential crisis?

My Facebook status is showing me as sleepless up North.

Sleepless in Montreal.
Sleepless wherever.
Location is unimportant.

I have a lot of internal noise going on all at once.
I have energy and not sure what to do with it all.
Emotions are overwhelming...
I tried all sorts of distractions today...running on the treadmill, passionately handling ingredients to cook up a lunch, talking with family about what's bothering me, running to the magazine store to      pick up reading material to distract the mind. To no avail.

Late in the afternoon, I decided to head to LaFontaine park to surround myself with LIFE.
It's not that life isn't present at home, or at a store, or watching one's kids at play ( in my case, the boys are with their dad for a week).
Parks are usually the best place to witness LIFE, people living.

I found myself watching the skaters, children with their toboggans, elderly couples strolling, families enjoying the brisk air.

Life was in motion at park LaFontaine.

I was not seeing busy-ness, rather I was witnessing pleasure seekers.

Then I thought of my father...

My 69 year old father is not in great shape.

Since last March 2010, he has been in and out of a hospital as my children, my mother, my sister and I, all watch different parts of his body fail him. It's not easy.

Most certainly, it's not easy for HIM.

A little about him...

Growing up, I watched him be a pillar of strength in our household.

He showed me the meaning of resilience, the benefits of hard work, determination, aiming high, striving to be the best that one can be.

All good things, indeed.

As a child I watched his inter-personal skills closely.

He never needed to repeat himself twice.

He commanded respect.

He stood tall, his eyes meant business and one quickly knew his intention without an exchange of words.
I grew up feeling cared for, safe, and knowing my actions mattered.

My father today, this very second, is experiencing his very own Existential Crisis.

Makes sense when one sees one's body begin to slow down, not heal as quickly or not at ALL.

He is questioning his life, looking back at his decisions, perhaps regretting some actions...

Though he led his childhood, young adulthood and adult life with a vision for his family's future, he did little to nurture and protect his health. He was a chain smoker from adolescence, ate whatever he enjoyed, never exercised, stressed out most of his life and ignored all of his doctors' recommendations.
His solution to ailments was taking his prescribed medication to alter or remedy what was not going well.
His family history is of concern, as heart disease and strokes are prevalent.
In essence, he abused his body.
And...he did so with an invincible attitude.

Sitting in the hospital yesterday at noon, I noticed he is NOT feeling so invincible.

He looks scared.

His body looks weak.

He looks needy.

He seeks attention.

He wants someone to tell him that all will be well.

His reality...his kidneys are failing him, his circulation is poor, his lungs are weak.

He can barely walk, as his feet have swollen.
He has stomach cramps which hold him back from eating.
He feels weak, as a result.

His lungs experienced a mild case of pneumonia this past weekend.

Will he still smoke?

Most likely...

I am angry with him.

I am angry with him because I have seen the better part of his life having a "fuck you" attitude about his health choices.

Why is he NOW experiencing all this sadness, remorse and fear?

In this last chapter of his life, whether 25 years from now or next year (I don't wish him a short life. I desperately WANT him to live a long long life) why is he not FINISHING STRONG like he always has?

WHY?

I don't know how to handle this scared version of my dad...

Is Oral sex, SEX?? Ask your teens and see what they say?

I am at a dinner party at a friend's house.
What happens when you put four women in their forties, around a kitchen table, with great food and a bottle (or two?) of wine?
The answer?
You get free flowing conversations about this, that and the other.

I am here to talk about the "THAT" portion of the conversation. The THAT was namely about how oral sex is rampant in early adolescence.

So what???

Well, it sort of sounds dandy except for the fact that the young boys are getting the blow jobs and the young ladies are more than happy to perform and get nothing in return.

Which brings us to "What are we teaching our kids?"

Back to this delightful kitchen table, we were all mothers. I would go as far as to say, all well educated mothers.
Some of us have children below the age of 10, while others have adolescent off springs.

The conversation became enlightening when I had mentioned that a few years back, my son's elementary school had invited a special guest, a social worker, to talk to would be parents of adolescents.

The guest speaker began her informative session by addressing a Jewish crowd with the following question: "At what age do you think your child begins to have sexual relations?"

In response, the crowd had muttered all sorts of answers from 15 to 18.
The social worker went on to ask: "And where do you think this happens?"

Long story short, she informed this naive parent body (myself included) that the day your son has his Bar Mitzvah, he will most likely have his first blow job in a bathroom stall or worse yet at coat check at his party. The parents roar.
What a rude awakening!

She went on to say how there seems to be a pervasive understanding that oral sex is not SEX.

(Gee I wonder who we need to thank? William was his name I think? White House? Oral oops I meant OVAL office?)

Furthermore, she explained something else of greater concern.

Girls are ONLY performing and guys are NOT reciprocating.

I once had a chat with a well known psychologist in Montreal about this same topic.

His answer was that the sexual culture is changing amongst the young.

Oral intimacy is not sex.

Young women feel that they are "still good" if they don't let the boy get sexually close to them.

The cherry on top of the icing: The girls feel empowered by performing and not allowing boys to reciprocate.

I will let you simmer with that last thought, dear reader...

The social worker went on to say that in high schools, teens were partaking in themed parties.
Back then (light sarcasm here, as my information dates back to four years ago...themes may have changed since). One example was the Rainbow party which meant that the young ladies would arrive with a bright shade of lipstick and the young adolescent was meant to collect shades of all lipsticks on his appendage. The boy with the most rainbow rings was the person who ruled the coop.

Now back again to that round table chat with ladies and WINE.
These mommies were blown away by the "news", were appalled at what conversations were taking place at home between parent and child. My guess, most likely, parents DO NOT have this chat about oral sex with their children. In fact, I would venture to say parents don't chew the fat about sex with their kids. They may highlight or create "NO FLY ZONE" policies and not allow for free flowing chats about sexual intimacy, respecting one's body, deriving pleasure etc...

One vibrant, very open minded and outspoken woman ( and more women should be like her!!!!) around that same kitchen table did say " Where is the power in having some guy's penis in your mouth? The true power is in one's ORGASM!!!!!"
We all burst out laughing.
She is indeed right, on so many levels (physically-pleasure and safety, emotionally-trust and self-concept).



So purpose of this blog, other than initial shock value is the following:

Firstly, at your son's Bar Mitzvah, do like I did. Hire extra male WATCHDOGS to scout the party, the bathrooms, the coat check at regular intervals of time. In my case, our party ran smoothly other than a group of boys amusing themselves with the condom dispenser in that bathroom.
Oy, my son will be mortified, if he gets wind of Mama's most recent entry. lol

Secondly, talk to your children.
Have a no holds bar attitude about difficult topics.
Listen to them, don't judge them when they share something that makes you uneasy.
This will allow them to loosen their filters with you and share openly.
Friends close to This Princess are always surprised at topics my children bring to the table. Better you, the parent, be handling the flow of information, than having some misguided PEER inform your child.

And ultimately, remember that once hormones kick in, sexuality and discovery of one's sexuality are normal and healthy.
Would love to hear your thoughts on this blog entry.
Please share, any which way you prefer.
Dialogue is KEY!

What is UP with dating in 2010!?!!?

This Princess wants to meet someone.

She wants to meet her very own FROG.

He does not have to be PERFECT.

Is it too much to ask for a gentleman, with integrity who holds down a REAL JOB? Never mind bigger issues like his extended family, his neurosis, his religion, his X-wife or his MOTHER.

This Princess wants companionship.

She wants intellectually charged exchanges.

To make matters worse, this princess has issues of her own which make it difficult to meet and mingle.

Imagine?

She works out of her home.
She is a single mother with full custody of two boys.
She is not in the habit of hanging at bars...although, the local SAQ (aka liquor store) is another kettle of fish!

So what is a Princess to do in 2010?
She can NAG her friends to death to set her up. Futile approach, thus far.
Or she can take matters into her own hands, by getting online, on sites such as Match.com, eHarmony, Plenty Of Fish, Jdate, OkCupid etc...
Some of these sites are free, while others are membership based.

Talking to a few friends here and there, and reflecting on the last batch of candidates, the consensus was that a paid site would bring a higher calibre of people, who are serious, employed ( yes, believe it or not, it's harder than you think to find a gainfully employed man) and searching for a commitment.

Oh no!!! Did I just use the "C" word????

Well, Match.com is like Malaria.com.
Single folks go there to DIE! Nothing moved on that site, in Canada, that is.
I did meet two friends on Match...but they both happen to live in the great U.S of A.

Jdate.com is like playing musical chairs in my backyard.

It just feels WRONG.

Perhaps the fact that I have worked for the Jewish community for close to 19 years and seen throngs of once happy, married people, now  with mug shots on Jdate stating their recent divorced status...makes it somewhat unappealing. The community is so small and tight, I may run the risk of dating some Jewish man, and his X-wife might be my neighboor or his child, my student.

Who needs that???
No, seriously?

eHarmony has the best advertising around. eHarmony is unique in that the matching service doesn't promote the "hook-up" culture. According to the company's mission statement, their goal is to "help couples achieve stronger, healthier and happier marriages."
They offer psychological tests to brand you as a Type A or B personality.

Well, it's been two months I have been on that lovely site.
Apparently, according to their data, I am well suited for a HUNKY firefighter who wants to be my Oral Slave, run my errands and scrub my bathroom floors NAKED while I berate him fully clothed.
And if that's not bad enough, he wants  me to keep looking for an alternate lover, as he candidly shared that he has sexual limitations.

Furthermore, if I was really KIND, I would allow him to remain in my closet, NAKED, while he eavesdrops on me with another man.
...And to think I have 10 more pre-paid months of this quality membership to look forward to...SIGH.

.

..So it appears Plenty of Fish is looking not too shabby.

The pond hosts the same paying crowd from all those other paying sites (yes the Firefighter is here too!) to a series of married men, parading as single fuckers.
This pond is your OYSTER!
It hosts a series of images, most often shirtless images.
FYI my dear SINGLE dude, women like the concept of shirt on, as it leaves something to our imagination!!
Anything swims in this pond.
It should have a warning sign saying "Swimmers, Beware"!

So here I am, Caspian Princess, posting her profile giving a glimpse of who I am.
I did mention my passion with ingredients and kitchen gadgets, my love for nature etc...
Most weeks, I receive a dozen NEW emails from Happy Fishies who say the following to woe this Princess:

"You're cute. Wanna fuck?" or "I live in NDG, is that near you for a quickie?" or "Hey, wasss ur fav position?"

And once I was really lucky, the Happy FISH READ MY PROFILE and said the following:

"How about you invite me over, COOK for me ( a tiny reference to my profile. Oh joy! Oh bliss!) and then we can fuck".
This one was a class act, indeed.

I know weirdos exist in all walks of life.
I know not everyone can run spell check on their sentence, prior to pressing "SEND".
It takes effort.
Who has time for that?
Better to look like an iliterate.
I also know that I am a modern woman, which means that I can make the bold move to reach out to a suitable candidate. As sarcastic as that may have sounded, I am a wee bit traditional in nature. My Caspian heritage kicks in every now and then...

That being said, would you believe it if I told you that many of my emails get deleted prior to having been READ!
What ever happened to courtesy and being a gentleman?

So...
I think that MEN have forgotten the ART of dating.

I think that MEN should drop their fancy mobile devices and or any type of electronic gadget and perhaps walk over to their local bookstore and pick up a much needed self-help book on how to converse with the opposite sex.
I am sure they have a kindle version too!!!

Listen, read and INHALE the advice.

It sure beats whatever it is you think you are doing.

As for THIS Princess, clearly the online venue is not a match made in heaven.

Perhaps, this Princess needs to head to some castle far far away and mingle with some royalty who have yet to swim in a cesspool!

That or... becoming a NUN.
Call me Sister Caspian!


Could I be THIS lucky in a convent?? Or is this really my firefighter dressed like a priest?

Throwing It All Away!!

The “GET”.
I got it.
Get it?
The Jewish GET!!

For those of you who are non-tribesmen (from the Cohen, Levy or Israelites tribes),it's a Jewish divorce. It's a process whereby a lovely lady, once known as a THE BRIDE, needs to request her DISMISSAL papers, in hope of finding something better out there.

The document specifies, in Hebrew, that the man, aka THE HUSBAND, will "now release, discharge and divorce the bride (on her own) so that she is PERMITTED and has authority over herself to go and marry any man she desires. ( Any man,with the exception of a Cohen gentleman…apparently I am too tarnished for a fine Cohen man. Makes me think, what should my JDATE profile state, NO COHENS allowed?)

It goes on to say that “No person may object against the NOW DIVORCED BRIDE from this day onward and she is PERMITTED (my favorite wording, if you have not already guessed) to every man." The kicker is the last line spoken by the now X-Husband stating "this shall be for YOU from me a BILL OF DISMISSAL, a letter of RELEASE and a document of ABSOLUTION, in accordance with the law of Moses and Israel."

...Moment of silence, please.
I mean, let's face there is so much to digest in this HERE document.
Where does one begin?

I am a Jewess.
That is obvious.
I am part feminist.
Conundrum indeed!

You see religion and women are a funny combo. When the woman stands on the right side of the equation, she is viewed as God’s reflection to her beloved. My face mirrors my husband’s being. Once I cross over to the DARK side, I become “the invisible woman”.

As a woman, I enter a boardroom with six religious figures, Mad Hatters I like to name them, and my x-husband. Well technically, he is not an X yet. He becomes an X when I leave the premises. How amusing. In any event,they assign me to a seat at the tail end of a U shaped boardroom table. They assume, my X and I need a chair in between us. Clearly, they have never met THE outspoken Caspian Princess. I quickly inform them that I would feel more comfortable nestled next to him then tossed by the way side, near the exit. One witness smirks. Funny thing is they still insisted that WE not approach the Mad Hatters. Should there have been acrimony, the X was privy to sitting more closely to the religious beings.

They spend the better part of the next 35 minutes, directing conversation to my X, asking his name, his Hebrew name and his nicknames. I find myself, quietly, watching the exchanges between the Mad Hatters, as they try to figure out the nuances in the letter “A” of my X-Husband. I keep thinking what is this world coming to, for six, mature, religious beings to spend an insane amount of time trying to philosophize if the letter “A” in his name is a short vowel or a long vowel.

The six religious men, then proceed to ask me my name and its spelling. Never mind, that they stumbled on my father’s name. Two Rabbis duel over the meaning of the name. One Rabbi finally states “you know like the King of Persia, Esther and Mordechai, the tombs in Iran…etc, etc. Ya, I think that's Judaism 101, where the holiday Purim began. But I digress.

My thoughts, once again, “OY”.

We are gently asked to step outside, while the scribe writes out our dismissal contracts. After an hour, we are called back inside, where I stand before my two witnesses and the Rabbi and my soon to be X-Husband. I am asked to pull up my sleeves, cup my hands, not to shake or move, while my soon to be X-Hubby sings his praises to me.

Well, praises is an understatement!! The words are VILE. The words are hurtful. The words have a way to DISMISS a 14 year commitment. The words make you wonder how these same religious beings feel that I AM CAPABLE of raising my two sons. The words HURT. Have you heard of The Gazette's new marketing stance "Words FUCKING MATTER?"

The Rabbi then instructs me to raise the contract in the air, stick it under my armpit, walk out of the room, pass a door or two in the hallway, then re-enter the boardroom as a DIVORCED woman. Sweet.

Congratulate me, I am now divorced. A relative blackberry messengered me soon after, saying “is it wrong to wish you a Mazal Tov?”
I don’t know, what do you think?


I dedicate this song to a great X-Husband. We share two beautiful kids. We care about each other's well being. Imagine that?

What is time?

While in the throws of a nature trail, out in the Lanaudière region, I found myself thinking about the concept of time. The river, the waterfalls, the tall trees and the fall leaves all reminded me of the flow of time, the variations of time, the nature of time.

I am not in the habit of a wearing a watch. My personal sense of time elapsed is somewhat fictional. For instance, I believe I am in my twenties. My sons, however, are my constant reminder of time gone by. Reality check, which translates to "I am really 41!"
Never mind that my gray hair rears its ugly roots every three weeks on the nose!
What a rude awakening.

Idle time isn't all it's cracked up to be either.
It has a way of magnifying issues or problems or in some instances, it allows you to look for trouble, where trouble does not reside.

Busy time...is just that...BUSY! It's time used to mask dealing with reality. It's like sweeping your issues under a Persian rug. What? The Caspian Princess grew up with Persian rugs!

Let us not forget wasting time or taking it for granted.
Time and time again, human beings run through their days not being mindful and not living each moment as if it were their last. Intelligently, we know better. We know that we are physically on this planet for a finite time, yet we don't "walk the talk".

Moral of the story, nature is one wonderful way to appreciate the flow of time. The scenery changes with every season, the trees grow with each day, standing, bending and adapting to changing weather. Also, pay attention to how you spend your time. Are you pleased with each passing day? Do you have one daily moment that stands out? Are you pleased with the direction you have set out for your life?

Food for thought...a quote by Henry Van Dyke.
Time is too slow for those who wait,
too swift for those who fear,
too long for those who grieve,
too short for those who rejoice,
but for those who love, time is eternity.

Every girl should have one guy friend…

Do you remember watching the movie When Harry Met Sally? The movie questioned whether a man and a woman are capable of being friends, without “the sex thing” getting in the way of their friendship. Is it plausible?

Well, I am here to tell you it is! I have a close male friend, with whom I laugh, I share, I cry, I banter and I TRUST. He is my go to person when things are falling apart in my crazy dating world, and vice-versa. We have been known to call each other at 1 am in hysterical states….my boys can vouch for me! Unlike Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan, we managed to stay friendly without any sexual overtones. I won’t lie to you either …we initially met for dating purposes and quickly realized we were meant to be GREAT friends.

Now here is why I think it’s important for every woman to have a male friend. This male friend can teach you about planet Mars. He can shed light on the simplicity of a guy’s head space when it comes to dating. He can let you in on the characteristics of a serial dater, the promiscuous dater, the serious dater, the emotionally detached dater, the hook-up dater and the LIAR dater!!! He lets you in on what turns a guy on, what turns him off. If nothing else, he can scout the guy for you first and tell you “with whom you will be dealing”-this before the actual date. My friend can LOOK at eyes and tell ALL!!!

For instance, too needy-defined as too many calls, too many texts, too many long long texts are a NO NO!! Too independent-defined as won’t return your calls, too hot to trot is also a turn-off. No mental stimulation-defined as intellectual repartees and you have a hook-up set up. Sending nude shots of oneself will not a long-term relationship make, especially if those pictures are sent out prior to meeting the gentleman. Talk too much about your kids on the first date and watch the man run like WILD. Too close to your X-husband and watch as he slithers away. Refer to his work environment as HIS BUBBLE and hear him say BUH BYE!

The funny thing is most of what I said seems like common sense. Yet, my friend will unveil example after example of women failing those basic dating protocols. Some of these women are divorcées, some with kids, some without, some successful professionals and/or cougars. His sample size is quite attractive. Yet there is one common thread with all these women. They fall quickly for the man-defined as four or five dates and a woman will use words like “am falling” for you. They come on, at first, as strong, self-confident, self-reliant woman with a busy life and within weeks they seem to have NOTHING better to do than to obsess about these MEN. The women, also, have a gift of penmanship…long, over drawn letters expressing their disapproval mixed in with their affinity of the man in question. Most of the diatribes I have read, thanks to my dear friend, are frightening to read out loud.

The kicker…I have been known to send out those same letters. Moral of the story dear women, gain some perspective by having a close male friend who will point you to the mirror every once in a while to shed some light on what you be doin’ wrong on this blessed dating scene. It’s a jungle out there…learn the rules of the game. By the way, men see facial hair…keep it in check ladies!!! Won’t even mention issues with south of the border…I hear Brazil is a nice place!

Hypocrisy

Do as I say, not as I do.
Ever catch yourself saying that to your children?

Ever find yourself giving advice to a friend, and NOT following your same beliefs and standards in your own life?

It's all in the name of good old hypocrisy!
Our friendly Wikipedia defines hypocrisy as the act of pretending to have beliefs, opinions, virtues, feelings, qualities, or standards that one does not actually have.

So why am I thinking of this?
Simple, I have experienced it on the giving end.
For instance, I will tell my boys not to eat something unhealthy and yet I will dive right into that junk food minutes later. Makes me a hypocrite, does it not?

I have also been on the receiving end.
Friends shelling out their advice, rejecting and refusing to understand some of my actions and in turn, using condescension to ward me off my EVIL path. Yet, a closer glance at their own existence and day to day actions make them least of all the poster children for high virtues and standards. Makes them a hypocrite, does it not?

So what are we to do?
To some extent, we can chalk it up to human nature.
We falter. Imagine that!
That being said, we are also capable of learning, evolving and improving our minds and putting our best foot forward in this world.

I can tell you that it has made me pay closer attention to the LIES I feed myself and most importantly the LIES I feed my children. My word has to mean something. As parents, I would like to think that we are modeling good behaviour, in hope that our children become citizens of society with great integrity and value.

As for my interactions with friends, and family members, I can tell you that I catch myself using my filters more often and am not quick to judge people's actions. I still falter...but I make it a point to work on self-improvement.

Not sure there is any value or room for hypocrisy on our planet, wouldn't you agree?

LIES!!!

Before I begin my diatribe about lying, I had a sudden recall of a university class I took. The professor/psychologist, an unusual character to say the least, told a group of graduate students the relevance and importance of cheating in a classroom.
For students with learning disabilities, cheating should be seen as a remarkable learning tool and coping strategy.

I remember the first time after that lecture, when I faced a student cheating...I had different goggles on and I allowed the perpetrator to continue on his way, thinking that he pulled one over the teacher. I LIED to my student!
Truth be told, it always left me unsettled and yet I taught myself to tolerate it in those circumstances...Graduate WISDOM if you will!?!?

So how does this tie in to my thoughts on lying?

First I need to define lying.
Lying is communication with the intention of creating a false belief.
Lies are typically motivated by a desire to persuade others to act or to refrain from acting in a certain manner.

WOW! What a mouthful to lying...
But what if the person who is said to be lying, believes it to be THE TRUTH?
Conundrum indeed!

Immanuel Kant, a philosopher, once said that lying was always morally wrong. He argued that human beings are born with an "intrinsic worth" which he referred to as human dignity. To be human, said Kant, is to have the rational power of free choice; to be ethical, he continued, is to respect that power in oneself and others.

Well, at 41, I have come to notice that I have walked a pretty straight line thus far in life. I use boundaries to frame my world which dictate my behaviours and actions. I won't say it's the most exciting way to live. I will say that those implemented boundaries have kept me heading in a healthy direction for the most part of my life. My two boys are my most prized accomplishments!

I am not a Saint.
I have lied.
I also experience guilt shortly after lying.
Which I think says a lot about my ethics.

Now some people on this planet spend the better part of their existence lying profusely about everything and anything. I often wonder are they even aware of their constant lies. I am convinced that the liar sees his/her lies as the TRUTH!

Study by psychologist and lying expert Bella DePaulo explains that more than 70 percent of liars tell their lies AGAIN! She also explains that 60 percent of lies are outright DECEPTIONS!
Mind you it does not help our society, when politicians are caught lying on a daily basis and getting away with it! What about the criminals? What about the movie stars? What about Tiger WOODS? Enough said.

On the other hand, Tim C. Mazur, from the Markula Center for Applied Ethics, explains that sometimes a lie, a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive, seems the perfect response.

About 22 years ago, my husband faced a dilemma. He had something to share with me and he knew full well he ran the risk of jeopardising the relationship we had. He consulted his mother, who coached him to tell a lie in order to safe guard the relationship. Needless to say, the plan backfired and my hubby and I broke up at the time for a year before rekindling the relationship at the ripe old age of 19.

Where am I going with this?
Lies are hurtful.
If you lived all alone on an island and lied to yourself, then the deceit hurt you and only you. The minute you involve another soul into the equation, one gains nothing from lying...

And let's not forget about my good old friend KARMA.
Karma has a funny way of biting you in the ass!
At times, all hell breaks loose...

Was it all worth it in the end?
To the one who has an intrinsic moral and ethical code perhaps not...

Why are good girls drawn to criminal minds?

Funny, I have always been a fan of this song as a teenager.
I never paid much attention to the twisted meaning of the lyrics.
For instance, "I stand accused before you, I have no tears to cry
And you will never break me, Till the day I die..."
These same lyrics today hold a different meaning in my mature and logical head.

So why are Good Girls drawn to "Bad Boys" or worse yet "Criminal Minds"?
Simple.

The "Bad Boy" or the "Criminal Mind" offers us an adrenaline rush, pushes our boundaries and keeps us on our toes. He offers stolen moments. No pun intended.
A mundane existence is a NOT a choice in a criminal's mind.
He has a grandiose sense of self which translates to self-confidence in the good girl's eyes. He has a need for stimulation by living on the edge, shunning norms and regulations, risking and gambling the good that surrounds him.
All in the name of THRILLS!!!
To a good girl, this translates yet again to an uncanny, adventurous, joy ride...
Granted this same joy ride is simultaneously laced with heightened insecurity, highs and lows and spell bound or hypnotised.

Is any of this healthy?
No.
Is any of this rational?
No.
...and yet thousands of women flock toward a criminal mind.

I will leave you with yet another segment of Gowan's lyrics, troubling to say the least...

A criminal mind
Is all I’ve
I’ve ever known
Don’t try to reform me
Cause I’m made of cold stone
My criminal mind
Is all I’ve
I’ve ever had
Ask one who’s known me
If I’m really so bad...

So DONE with going nowhere...

My wheels have been spinning in circles for the past five years.
It's hard to admit.
But it's a fact.

Prior to those years, I had always been a goal oriented individual, full of ambition, endlessly searching for new ideas, new thought processes, new ventures. I always had a restless mind, thoughts constantly in motion. I surrounded myself with people who shared the same vibe. I recall a close friend who once told me her mantra, "the more you do, the more you get done".

From early on, I remember looking for ways to make money. When I was in my early teens, I would offer my time on weekends to my father who ran a clothing shop on Saint-Laurence. If that didn't cut it, I began working at my uncle's jewelery shop, learning about gold and diamonds....after all, diamonds are a girl's best friend. I then looked at babysitting gigs to bring in more funds, followed by my very first union run job as a librarian at Vanier College....Now that's when the money began to pour in when I was only 16. I won't even mention the amount of retroactive pay that followed once I stopped working there. My family, at the time, couldn't stop laughing.

My point is not to recap what once was....
Rather my point is to notice, that somewhere along the way that drive, that vision, that sense of direction got lost in translation. For whatever reason, a life event throws us off our paths and a sense of disequilibrium sets in.

Not proud to share that a lack in direction is my current poison of choice in my personal life.
It is my reality, none the less.

Interestingly enough, it takes a life event to throw you off kilter.
Yet it also takes hitting rock bottom to shake you out of your funk.
I have been numb for the better part of five years.
This past week, I had my AHA moment when life tossed me yet another blow, the kind that shakes your core, makes you question your rational and sense of pride.
Facing change is often a fear induced step, but at times quite a necessary vehicle to create new blessings, new visions, new paths to a new sense of bliss.

That numbness has left the building...
It's nice to feel again...scared...but feeling none the less.

Did you know you can learn a lot about life while sailing?

This past week, I had the pleasure of joining a friend on his sailboat. I must admit, it was not the first time I had sailed. I did indeed notice that our perception of sailing in our twenties is very different than in our forties. I distinctly recall having a carefree attitude in my twenties and oblivious to the sailing nuances. I wasn't sensitive to the importance of changing winds, traffic on the lake, but was more concerned about gaining speed, while taking the sun.

This time around, I found myself heavily aware of my surroundings, sensitive to the blowing wind and the reaction of the boat, in some cases too late (like when I poorly steered the boat toward the dock while my friend was lifting the sails-Yup it was a big scratch!)....But then again, you live and learn, meaning second time around, we both learned to take the boat to the center of the lake and then begin the set-up process.

This last little journey gave me many moments to reflect and observe the parallels between sailing and life skills. In a macro sailing moment, you quickly learn the importance of facing challenges on the water, thinking quickly on your feet, learning the virtue of patience, acknowledging that though you may be a control freak, sometimes in life nature has other things in store for you. You also learn that you have good times where the boat sails to perfection while you smile blissfully at the sun, while other times, you lose the wind in your sail and find yourself sitting patiently, reflecting and awaiting the next gust of wind. Mind you, in our case, the wind never came and so we gently drifted and perhaps even picked up momentum at barely two knots.

Another eye-opening experience is that one learns a lot about one's sailing partner under challenging situations. In my case, I bravely decided to take a moment to lead the boat back to the marina. I quickly learned that good sailors make it look easy.
I asked my friend if he could guide me and show me the whys behind certain actions. I must admit just because I am a great teacher with twenty years under my belt, does not make every TOM,Dick and Harry a great one too. His methods of teaching include gentle yelling, sarcasm, laughter (as in making fun of moi)...not necessarily the right ingredients for a special needs student like myself! Truth be told, I was most impressed with how he allowed me freedom to try and to fail, and then to try again. So in essence, he has the right ingredients to coach. May I make a suggestion, dear friend, coddle a wee bit more and then you have MAGIC!

It must have taken me well over an hour to learn, through osmosis and perhaps the nudging of my friend, that getting from point A to point B isn't always a straight course, especially if the straight course takes you directly into the wind. Planning a route that gets you to your destination in the shortest possible time is accomplished through a maneuver called tacking, in which the boat is steered in a zigzag, upwind direction.
Mind you, by the time I figured that out, the wind stopped blowing and we began the drifting process back to shore.

Hug your children, for God's sake HUG THEM!!!

So why the fury in the title?
I guess I should start by saying that my maternal instincts were always naturally strong. I had intuitive common sense if you will, about raising my boys. I didn't need those "What to Expect" books to know the relevance and importance of hugging your children, reading to them, bathing them, grooming them and so on and so forth.

So why am I bringing this up now?
Simple. I may have been naturally GIFTED to nurture my sons the right way, to allow them to become loving, nurturing, self-confident men who will most likely NOT fear commitment or love of another woman. They will have had the good foundation to nurture their healthy unions with their respective, significant others and God willing their children too. They know the true meaning of roots, stability and love! Those three factors govern their daily existence and make them the lovely humans they are today.
So pat on the back for the Caspian Princess for a job well done!!!! (Alright, I admit to this brag fest...But I feel I deserve it!!)

That being said, my dating life has somewhat been an interesting and eye-opening experience. In the last four years, I would say more than half of my dates have had significant issues with commitment, focus, and drive to pursue whole hearted a relationship. In most cases, one or both parents were MIA, or void of emotions, or too self-centered to nurture these men, while they were growing up and learning about healthy interactions, dynamics and being loved.

Granted there has got to be a moratorium set out to end the blaming factor. I mean seriously, is it normal that by the time you reach 50, you find yourself still saying things like "I yearned for the love of a parent" or "I never had the lasting love of a friendship" or "a lover never stayed long enough around for me to feel safe". At which point, do you stop whining about what you never had and be proactive about what you can now do to change things for the better???

Then again, maybe these poor,LOST,souls are doomed to search for an ideal,fictitious and imaginative love only found in poetry and romance novels. Come on PEOPLE, roll up your sleeves and mingle with the dirt...that is where ALL the fun ingredients that make for a meaningful connection are!!!! Stop blaming YOUR PARENTS!!!!

Oh and parents, PLEASE hug your little tykes to death, stroke their hair and squeeze them to bits, so that one day, their significant other does NOT prick some VOODOO doll in hope to wish you PAIN!!
Love your kids and hug them, PLEASE!

Kangaroo tasting...in Quebec City??? Poor Kippy!

This past weekend, a friend and I headed to Quebec City to discover this old gem of a place, with a Euro flair right in North America. Charming,magical,friendly and EXPENSIVE a place....just like some places in Europe!

The harbour front in Quebec City boasts beautiful catamarans, sail boats and motor boats, with happy folks sipping and noshing on yummy treats while basking away, staring at the architectural backdrop of Old Quebec.
A good life, indeed.

My friend and I meandered the walk ways, passing street buskers, entertainers and live bands. One zone had some semblance of a beer garden in Munich, though tall trees and wooded trails were MIA. We both sat down and decided to enjoy this band playing tunes of Jack Johnson.

Now how does my poor Kippy fit into all this?
My friend, who is a take charge kind of guy and fully aware of my Kosher, granted loose dietary laws, says "how about I go inside the tent and pick us some treats to eat?"
Being a control freak, especially when it comes to my nutritional intake, I allowed him to run off and "surprise me". He walked away while chiming "don't worry, I know...no pork or ham or bacon".

Upon his return, he handed me a plate with what seemed like a "kebab wrap". I was somewhat touched, as I thought he had my Middle Eastern heritage in mind, kebabs and all, that is.
He dove right into his wrap while I kept staring at mine.
I smelled it, and discovered the scent was unusual.
I stared at it some more and asked "so what is this?".
He quickly answered, in between bites, "just eat it".
Being a bad listener, I kept staring at it.
Then I nagged him "you sure it's not pork or something, cuz it sure don't look like beef or chicken?"
With a full mouth, my friend mumbled "it's kangaroo!"
This time, I stared right at him, with the full notion that he enjoys yanking my chain.
I smiled and said "very funny".

Then, bravely, I took a bite of my mystery wrap and tasted the dry, chewy concoction.
Vile!!! No other words to describe it.
Politely I thanked him, handed him the sandwich which he happily ate.
As I was heading back to the tent, he said to me "don't forget to stop by the kangaroo station". I responded with a "ha ha"!

Once inside the tent, I saw many food stalls. One had wild boar sausages, one had deer meet sausages...
Low and behold there was KIPPY, the poor Kanga.
Roo was most likely in my previous wrap.
I found myself hopping back to my table, with empty hands and stunned-rounded eyes, mostly in disbelief that I tasted POOR KIPPY and wondering how does KIPPY fit into my poor KOSHER map! Should I ask my Rabbi? Should I email him my question?
My friend, on the other hand, happily sported his cynical smile!

Does Kippy have hooves? (Kosherly speaking, of course)

Can we talk about Dr. LAURA? Please?

I heard it on the news today that "famous Dr. Laura" will be quitting talk radio...
Not soon enough if you ask me.

Apparently, she was caught last week using the N word with some black,female caller who is married to a white man. She called in because she was annoyed that every time a friend or family member came over, she would have to hear comments like do black folks do that etc...It bugged her.

Dr. Laura responded with those comments are not racist. In fact, she said that her bodyguard is an African American. Dr. L was interested in a game of B Ball and here was the exchange between her and her bodyguard: "Listen white men can't jump. I want you on my team."
She tells the caller that in her opinion "that was not a racist comment". As an added bonus, she says that the African Americans voted for Obama only because he is black.
And to make matters worse, she goes on to say how if one turns on HBO to see some black comedy, the N word is used freely while folks with low melanin using that same word are called racists?
She was apparently making a philosophical point!?!??

Deep breath.
Sigh.
Questions running through my head.
Is she for real? Did she really say that out loud? As a Jewess who should understand persecution, does she NOT get it? Are we really going to miss her? Is she all THAT and a loaf of wonder bread?

Here is my opinion:
Has entertainment in this world gone so off the deep end that we need people like Dr. Laura with her narrow minded, bigoted thoughts to be diffused all over the air ways? She reminds me of a clean cut version of Archy Bunker. Do we really want our society to be ingesting and pondering on Dr. Laura's limited thoughts?

A day at an Alpaca Ranch...

On Saturday afternoon, my relatives and I headed to my cousin`s alpaca ranch not far from a gold mining town in Julian. Upon arrival to this 14 acre property, you are greeted by close to 47 alpacas, Tika the Anatolian Shepperd which can also double as a pony with TEETH, four chickens, two moody cats named Ginger and Cotton tail and the friendly neighborhood coyotes. Thank God they were chilling in the mountains until the stars came out.

Walking through the ranch, you can't help but notice how relaxed you quickly feel. Tall trees, the scent of nature, the silence of city life, the gentle sounds of nature, the fluffy alpacas roaming in their gated space while eating hay and rolling on the ground enlighten your senses.

My sons decide to climb into the female alpaca zone and are greeted by Vanessa the friendly one of the bunch. Rub her on her neck and belly, and you will soon experience a hug from the furry creature. Human and alpaca necks entwine and all seems right with the world.

We were blessed with a feast to make our ancestors, homo-erectus, proud! All sorts of beef treats on the grill, ribs, tenderloin and delicious baked potatoes on steroids with farmer's butter and finely diced chives to please the senses.

Having a full fledged adolescent in my world, my son managed to convince my cousin to show him how alpacas breed and so with an audience around the stud, my cousin lassoed Daisy the female alpaca and delivered her to do the deed!!! A sight indeed!
It made National Geographic TV channel seem like child`s play. To some extent it appeared a violent act. Five minutes into it, we began to walk away while teasing my poor cousin with "is this what YOU do all day long?"

Once the first star came out, the kids went on a bumpy tractor ride to scout the ranch. My youngest son was happy to be bringing home a sample of coyote spinal bone in a Ziploc bag. Show and tell on the first day of school will sure help him stand out amongst his peers.

As we began to make our way home, one last look at the sky and you are showered by a slew of bright stars! The kids and I were overjoyed with the experience of it all.

The gift of meeting new faces...

A couple of nights ago, I had the pleasure of finally meeting a virtual friend whom I have known for a year. Online, he portrayed himself as an intellectual, well travelled, well read and somewhat adventurous, thinking outside of the box.
We had "met" online on a dating site and due to our wide geographic location, we didn't pursue it any further, other than a friendship.

Thanks to his Facebook status, I noticed he was going to travel to San Diego around the time I was visiting with relatives. We both agreed to meet face to face, one afternoon when my cousin was kind enough to entertain my boys for the evening.

I was so pleasantly surprised to meet my virtual friend. He looked like his pics, he spoke like his virtual online voice,and the evening went by quite naturally. Reason I am surprised is, that often we are told to be weary of who lurks online. People are fakes, they exude a different personna and create a mirage for the virtual friend.
I am happy to report that my virtual friend was real, his pics were true, his demeanour to be similar to his online activity. So not all virtual friends are a mirage, is my point.

My friend from St-Louis was pleased to see that I too was true to my exchanges...I looked like my pics and my personality was authentic too.
We spent the better part of the afternoon sharing a drink, discovering Torrey Pines Reserve State Park, me in my white Birkies and skirt hiking the trails. It was a sight indeed. We then shared a great meal and this is the part where I had an AHA moment.

Every person that walks into your life brings a gift to your existence. My virtual friend brought me a new sense of adventure. He has this uncanny way of ordering his meal at a restaurant. He empowers the chef to choose his meal for him and surprise him with a feast to grace his eyes and palate.
My virtual friend went on to tell me about his most recent need to experiment life in surprising ways, doing things he would not have necessarily done before...He has eaten a brain stew, zip lined, and is now looking forward to jumping off a plane.

What I took from his tales....leave your heart open to try things on this planet, plan less, experiment more, try new thngs everyday, surprise your instincts as much as you can....LIVE life!

Thank you My Virtual Friend from St-Louis!!!
It was great meeting you face to face.
I have learned a great deal.

facing fears...for some, in California!

My relationship with San Diego goes as far back to when I was fourteen. My dad, had decided he wanted to go visit his brother who lived on the sunny coast...and so we began our crazy, intense road trip to California. To this day, that first trip strengthened my ties to my cousins.

I began going back for my sixteenth birthday and continued on every few years to see them. Communication with them is free flowing; ties are tight; we are there for each other, for things that matter, for special events and for difficult times too.

Since my split, I had stopped going partly because of my mobility issue. Unlike other cities in the States, San Diego has no subway system, has some semblance of a tram, some buses; cabs are expensive and many renegade cabs (meter-less) take full advantage of the situation. Hence the use of a car is a must. Here lies my problem.

Up until this trip, I had never driven out of my comfort zone. Montreal, Vermont area, up North was as far as I would go. Funny thing is I have no issues roaming the streets less travelled around the world, but driving did become an issue in my head.

And so I faced my demons this summer. I rented a car and thought to myself: get over this fear...you love it in San Diego and you need to get past the idea that the X was your means of transport while there!

I am proud to report that I feel empowered and thrilled to drive the highways of San Diego! My boys have noticed the transition from fear, to nervous, to "OMG she's back to her road rage attitude"...Music 90.3 with a Rihanna and Usher, blasting while I meander my way around.

Moral of the story: Face your fears...you will feel overjoyed and elated!

Some people leave you with a lasting impression...

I was sifting through the vast collection of music on YouTube and I came across a clip by Colin Hay. Some of you may remember the Scottish/Aussie lead singer from an 80s Australian band called Men At Work.

On a more personal level, one of his songs hit home. There are some people who enter your life, for a short period of time, yet manage to leave a whopping imprint on your existence. You cherish those moments you once shared together; you find yourself daydreaming, wondering what became of them and you question if you had that same magical appeal on their lives. You find yourself smiling at a moment's notice remembering magnetic exchanges...sitting back and relishing those special sparks.

The following clip from Colin Hay talks about those tender moments once shared with that special someone, with the full knowledge that life does go on...but "don't think I'll ever get over you..."

My thoughts on Italy...

Having had the pleasure of visiting South of Italy (namely Rome, Naples, Sorento, Amalfi, Capri, Anacapri and Positano)three years ago, versus this trip in the Northern part of Italy, I have come to realise that my temperament matches the southern part more.

This trip, as a general rule, was scenic, architecturally invigorating, and culturally eye opening. The locals were not as playful, friendly and flirtatious as the Southern part. Along the Amalfi Coast, also a tourist attraction, the locals are inviting and helpful beyond words. Their motto is to leave you with a lasting impression.

Here in Venice and Florence, they are also mulled by too many tourists coming through, but the local temperament and their rules of hospitality are harsh and less "serviable", less catering-to. They were also "surprised" by solo female travellers. To them, folks like me were aliens, a puzzle. If you travelled alone, you were more likely to be offered "a date with benefits". My favorite line of all from a male Fiorentini, who didn't understand why I roamed alone on holiday, was "but why?"
Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?

These places have a lot to offer. The sites alone are charming to any foreigner coming through. With a tiny bit of added charm, care to please attitude and a dash of sex appeal, this place could be magical.



Just my two cents worth.

Ciao, Ciao Italia!

This trip wouldn't be complete without voicing my thoughts on Amerigo Vespucci Aeroporto. OMG!!!! OMG!!!! In simple terms, the Dominican Republic Airport is more impressive than this tiny, run down, poor excuse of a fly zone.

An hour and a half before the flight, the check-in attendants are nowhere to be found. There is a line-up from here to there, some odd workers that seemed to have been responsible for unlocking the main doors to this joint.

Then the trail of lovely blue suits arrive, slowly, oh so slowly to tend to their desks. This was Italian time at its best. Boarding is also interesting...does not matter if you have kids and strollers, are in Executive or First Class seating, back rows first...the name of the game is push and shove at 6am!

Arrivederci Italia!

A Casanova and a thief...all at McDonald's?

So I decided to stop by McDonald's for a salad?
I know, who goes to McDonald's for a salad...but I was too tired at that hour and wanted a quick grab, swallow and head to my room.

At this restaurant location, they have the McCafe too. I sat in that zone, as it was quieter and cleaner. I am having issues with cleanliness. I guess my OCD is rearing its ugly head and maybe that's a sign, am ready for the comforts of my home, sweet home. I digress.

There I am, after a long day....sweaty, sticky but in my pretty white dress with some grey hues and pretty white sandals chomping away at my salad. I was so concerned about my purse, and those who know me well will know I am rarely concerned about that...in fact, most times, I just leave it lying around.

I noticed I was being watched.
An older man, most likely older than my father.
Every bite I took, he would smile.
The first few times, I wasn't amused.
By the time the tenth bite occured, I figured "oh what's the matter with you, he's being friendly...get over yourself".

At that time, this young man walks in and begins to eye my purse. I figured I overstayed my welcome at this place and should call it a day and grab my tram to the hotel. As am about to hop off my stool, the old man comes over and says in Italian, care to join me for a coffee? I smiled and thanked him for his kindness but kindly declined. He goes on to say but you are "Bellissima"...Meantime, he grabs my tray and clears it for me. I smile, thank him and walk away. I think he survived the experience. I will give him this, many a MEN I have met in recent times don't have the cajones to step up to the plate like this gentleman did. It's too bad!

So I begin to make my way toward the tram...and you will recall that young man and MY PURSE. Well he suddenly appears on the escalator right next to me. I turned toward him and gave him a stern look. He hopped off and went a different direction.
I continue walking along the sidewalk and crossed the street....now the man is standing right behind me waiting at the tram stop.

I figured it's now or never...a lot of people are standing right beside me, so I went for it in a loud shreak "any reason why you are following me since McDOnald's?"
He ran away into the train station. Creepy but handled.