Blog Jam

Headlines are captivating. Years from now, when any surviving archaelogists (or aliens) pour over the detritus of the worst messers in history, this is what they’ll find as remember whens from September 2008.

A mishmash from the overnight headline stew that is making the Crash of ’29 look like a church picnic in comparison. A crash long predicted. A crash waiting to happen with the financial finagling of debt and equity and foreclosures. And a new profession created: financial engineer.

It also looks like there won’t be enough deposit insurance to cover all the balances in American banks once the fun-run starts.

FDIC fund has about $50 billion to "insure" about $1 trillion in assets at the nation's financial institutions, says Roubini. "They're going to run out of money" unless Congress acts soon to recapitalize the FDIC.

Up here in the cold white north, our Bank of Montreal expert takes a bleak look at the financial fiasco and pronounces:

It might not have had the visual impact of Hurricane Ike in Texas, but Monday's shakeup on Wall Street likely is a similarly "once-in-lifetime" event.
"This is the worst I've ever seen," said Sherry Cooper, chief economist at BMO Financial Group.
What Cooper saw was a financial meltdown with Lehman Brothers becoming the biggest bankruptcy in American history and blue-chip investment house Merrill Lynch & Co. becoming a green light discount special and taken over by Bank of America.
The result at the end of Monday was two financial giants disappearing along with the prospects for a short-term U.S. economic turnaround

And what does Bush the Dimmer have to say?

U.S. President George Bush talked about the ability of the country's financial markets to recover on their own.

Yeah, right, go tell ‘em, Georgie.

And to add to the unending fun, Hewlett Packard decides to cut 24,600 jobs.

And the pope, well, he’s all about telling us to die, and to die only, at the time chosen by God, aka the Great Invisible Cosmic Housekeeper.


And after this, it all makes sense in a surreal kind of way that 35% of people prefer their Blackberries to their spouses.



And to round everything off quite nicely, with the markets in turmoil, more suicide bombings in Iraq, the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Ike to clean up, bankruptcies through the roof, what are the main political contenders jawing about?

McCain says Obama didn't call Palin a pig



Yeah, the potential leaders of the so-called Free World, still in the sandbox.

A Positive Facet of 9/11

OR - The Day the World Came to Town





This is a book that would warm the coldest heart. In the aftermath of the day of devastation that was 9/11, the tiny town of Gander in Newfoundland took to its heart 38 airliners and their passengers that were refused entry by the U.S. The stories recounted here restores faith in the very goodness of people, particularly in the innate kindness of Newfoundlanders who took these lost and frightened men, women and children into their homes and bosoms.

"For the better part of a week, nearly every man, woman, and child in Gander and the surrounding smaller towns stopped what they were doing so they could help. They placed their lives on hold for a group of strangers and asked for nothing in return. They affirmed the basic goodness of man at a time when it was easy to doubt such humanity still existed."

When thirty-eight jetliners bound for the United States were forced to land in Gander, Newfoundland, on September 11, 2001, due to the closing of United States airspace, the citizens of this small community were called upon to come to the aid of more than six thousand displaced travelers.

Roxanne and Clarke Loper were excited to be on their way home from a lengthy and exhausting trip to Kazakhstan, where they had adopted a daughter, when their plane suddenly changed course and they found themselves in Newfoundland. Hannah and Dennis O'Rourke, who had been on vacation in Ireland, were forced to receive updates by telephone on the search for their son Kevin, who was among the firefighters missing at the World Trade Center. George Vitale, a New York state trooper and head of the governor's security detail in New York City who was returning from a trip to Dublin, struggled to locate his sister Patty, who worked in the Twin Towers. A family of Russian immigrants, on their way to the Seattle area to begin a new life, dealt with the uncertainty of conditions in their future home.

The people of Gander were asked to aid and care for these distraught travelers, as well as for thousands more, and their response was truly extraordinary. Oz Fudge, the town constable, searched all over Gander for a flight-crew member so that he could give her a hug as a favor to her sister, a fellow law enforcement officer who managed to reach him by phone. Eithne Smith, an elementary-school teacher, helped the passengers staying at her school put together letters to family members all over the world, which she then faxed.

Bonnie Harris, Vi Tucker, and Linda Humby, members of a local animal protection agency, crawled into the jets' cargo holds to feed and care for all of the animals on the flights. Hundreds of people put their names on a list to take passengers into their homes and give them a chance to get cleaned up and relax.

This book reads like a novel. I couldn’t put it down. A validation of all that is best in the human spirit. A perfect antidote to the horror of 9/11 and the horrors that have been committed in its name ever since.

Highly recommended.

Simple Things

The longer I live, the more I realize that it is the small things that give me the greatest joy. Is that the secret to happiness, I wonder?

My meditation of yesterday (which gets emailed by The Universe every day!) put it quite simply:

For those who ponder and wonder and wrestle with the idea of what it is they really want, I have an answer that each would wholeheartedly agree with: "HAPPINESS."
And for those who ponder and wonder and wrestle with exactly what will bring them true happiness, I have an answer that each would wholeheartedly disagree with: "Just do something, do anything, as soon as possible, and do it with care."
And I'd add, "Trust me."

And co-incidentally, I had been surprised the day before when I had a taken a few hours away from some corporate tax files. I had baked some cranberry/walnut/orange-zest scones (with care!) and recognised that the sense of satisfaction I had felt on seeing them on the cooling rack in all their fat glory far exceeded the accounting triumph of the morning.

This morning I look out over the bay and watch a variety of birds dive-bomb their lunches in the water. It is a ‘denim day’ as I term them - the piercing blues of the sky and the ocean having that clarity that catches in the throat. And it makes me glad to be a witness.

There is work here that needs attention and I’d rather be writing an article, or knitting an afghan. But I am committed to doing the work. With the same care I afforded the scones.

I had a call yesterday from someone who wants me to teach a little course on upgrading computer skills. They can only afford to pay me a minuscule hourly rate but I was inordinately pleased at being asked and of course I will accept.

A dear friend sent me a CD that has given me so much joy in the last few weeks as I play and replay this delightful fusion of jazz and blues with the unlikely duo of Willie Nelson and Wynton Marsalis, Two Men with the Blues:

Simple things. Happiness. Why look elsewhere?

Screen Sucking

OK.

So there's bad screen sucking - Perez Hilton anyone? (Guilty, guilty!)

There's, like, not so bad, but not so good either, screen sucking - Stumble, Facebook, Bore Me, etc.

And then there's the Rolls Royce, the creme-de-la-creme so to speak, of screen sucking which has now been expanded to include subjects along with the old familiar word definitions.

It's almost virtuous. For every correct answer 20 grains of rice are donated to the UN programme to end world hunger.

Go on, try it, it's much better than before.

I scored really, really well on identifying the famous artists.

Agent Rainbow: Coming Soon to a Roadway Near You?

I have a healthy distrust of governments - municipal or local, provincial and federal. My ill feeling has been borne out by the many ways in which governments, entrusted with the safety and well being of all its citizens, proceed to do exactly the opposite of this once elected and respond only to its corporate ring-masters, our true overlords.

This cynicism has been truly justified recently.

But first of all the narrative:

In the fifties and sixties in New Brunswick, Canada, with the encouragement of the U.S. government, whole communities were expropriated to test a mutagenic chemical by the name of Agent Orange on local trees, bushes, plants and shrubs. Agent Orange went on to greater fame in Vietnam where it destroyed vast swathes of jungle so that the Vietnamese would be exposed and rendered visible for annihilation. This chemical altered the genetic structure of plants at the cellular level so that they self-destructed.

No one thought of the seepage into groundwater and the human ingestion of same. Or thought and disregarded it. Birth defects, cancers, class action lawsuits, and loss of life resulted after years of being assured that there was no danger. We are all familiar with the devastating effect of this chemical, both on the returned soldiers and their subsequent offspring and on the surviving Vietnamese. Not to mention the Beta testing ground of New Brunswick.

In today's paper, I am horrified to read that instead of putting these chemicals away forever, my government has been using Agent White on the sides of the highways here to clear bush and trees from automotive sightlines.

That's cancerous, toxic poison seeping into the groundwater.

Affecting all of us on a molecular level.

Will I protest?

Hell, yeah.

Will it stop?

I'm not holding my breath.

And oh yeah, the manufacturer of these Purple(and also Multi-Coloured) People Eaters?

Our malevolent old friend, the Dow Chemical Corporation.

Xomba has a good site on the chemical components of all of them.

P.S.
Subsequent to above post and Sparrowchat's comment on same:
Here is a link to his excellent post on these horrific, oxymoronic 'agents'.

19-square-mile ice sheet breaks loose in Canada

Hellooooooo! Is there anyone out there?
Anyone??

There's this:

A chunk of ice shelf nearly the size of Manhattan has broken away from Ellesmere Island in Canada's northern Arctic, another dramatic indication of how warmer temperatures are changing the polar frontier, scientists said Wednesday.

And this:

The loss of these ice shelves means that rare ecosystems that depend on them are on the brink of extinction, said Warwick Vincent, director of Laval University's Centre for Northern Studies and a researcher in the program ArcticNet.

"The Markham Ice Shelf had half the biomass for the entire Canadian Arctic Ice Shelf ecosystem as a habitat for cold, tolerant microbial life; algae that sit on top of the ice shelf and photosynthesis like plants would. Now that it's disappeared, we're looking at ecosystems on the verge of extinction,' said Mueller.

Read the whole thing here

And what sayeth our esteemed Prime Minister Harper? Who will, incidentally, be running in a newly called general election on October 13th. No grand election hoopla circus here folks. Apart, of course, from the pronouncements of the above Minister Harper who says on this catastrophic tipping of the balance of the arctic:

Harper announced last week that he plans to expand exploration of the region's known oil and mineral deposits, a possibility that has become more evident as a result of melting sea ice. It is the burning of oil and other fossil fuels that scientists say is the chief cause of manmade warming and melting ice.

Harper also said Canada would toughen reporting requirements for ships entering its waters in the Far North, where some of those territorial claims are disputed by the United States and other countries.

In other words: "Oh goody, more oil! Buzz off, it's ours."

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life Death

(Song on link above is courtesy of Monty Python).

I was commenting on Laura’s blog the other day on the death of Geoffrey Perkins and how sloppy and well, random, the ending of his life. A hit and run driver in his case. And I thought of the random ending of most lives.

And I pondered - morbid,I know - on what mine would be like.

The likelihood of a run in with a moose in my car here is rather high and the results can be rather messy - to all concerned in the collision. However, “Squashed by a Moose” steals much from the dignity of an obituary.

I climb with my granddaughter and the old pins can be less steady than once they waxed -but thankfully not yet waned - but one never knows. I could tumble down a mountain in front of her horrified eyes. Memorable that would be. But the darling one traumatized until she tosses off this mortal coil (“And just how did your granny die, dear?”) would be a high price to pay.

My dear, departed friends and younger extended family members have been struck with cancers, an aneurism, a car accident, infections post surgery, a sudden fatal heart attack at forty- two, suicides, alcoholism. Nothing overly dramatic amongst all of them. Just all too sad and too soon. Even the suicides were a quiet leave-taking with no dramatic notes left behind.

I then thought of the headers on the obituary I would like:

“Drowned at sea on her last solo sail at the age of ninety-two.”

“Keeled over, quite happily, at her latest book signing at the age of ninety.”

“Due to her failing eye sight, inadvertently stabbed herself with a knitting needle upon completion of her latest knitted art project at the age of one hundred and ten.”

“Laughed herself into a fatal coma at the house of friends at the age of ninety-one.”

“While in the last two miles of the Boston Marathon, the only one in her class and gender, in the tenth hour, at the age of ninety five, she lay down, exhausted, and died.”

“At the age of eighty nine, she fell off a scaffolding in her dining room while painting her ceiling a crimson red.”

Now what would yours be?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alone, again.

Near Twillingate Lighthouse, August 2008


As the house empties of footsteps running hither and yon, the newspaper sections are no longer shared, the daily Word Jumble becomes a solitary exercise, the Soduko remains blank, the knitting unadmired and untaught, the books stiff in their jackets and not passed along the line, and the dog unfrolicked with her dog-niece, I mourn the passing of the seasons, the passing of my life.

Life is all about change, though, I remind myself. I treasure my moment bowl more and more. I have the time to do that. I rejoice in its diamonds and mourn its stones.

If you believe as I do, that this is it, this brief, intense dance on the earth, then it becomes more poignant when our loved ones leave, briefly or forever.

My beloveds left today. To resume their lives in Toronto. We danced together yesterday at an afternoon tea dance by the ocean. To a mixture of live old time rock ‘n roll and Irish music.

Memo to self: I must dance. A lot more.

Measuring Our Lives

Fishing Stage, Tilting, Newfoundland, August 2008.

I don't knew who said it first but it is a remarkable phrase:

Life is not measured by the amount of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

And I had many of these moments in the past few days up in northern Newfoundland in the Fogo area.

The grandgirl and I went on many hikes, climbed many mountains, toured museums, took to the briny and caught dolphins at play and both the humpback and fin whales cavorting. It seems like we spent weeks soaking in these breathtaking sights but in reality it was just five days.

Five remarkable days.

One of many highlights was time spent on top of Brimstone Head which is deemed to be one of the four corners of the earth by the Flat Earth Society. We found this crazy inukshuk on top of it and the views in all directions were spellbinding.



I had the camera at the ready all of the time. Here is another one of two
boathouses and a string of punts in Tilting.



But the best photo albums are in our hearts.

Through a Glass Clearly

Photo taken through the Trinity Cooperage window, August 22nd, 2008

We're just back from a road trip to Trinity, a place that the word 'spectacular' doesn't do any justice. The harbour is beautiful, sheltering a town that has been carefully preserved. We explored the functioning forge and cooperage, museums and the churches and marvelled at the age of some of the tombstones. The weather was incredible also.

One of the highlights was a hike, considered one of the world's best, on the Skerwink Trail. It is approximately 5.4 km long, a little challenging in parts due to the climbing. But the views from the over 200' cliffs make it all worth while. Eagles soared, moose dawdled by and we ate wild blueberries along the way.

We stayed here at this great B&B. I'm a total fan of the B&B experience, apart from the friendliness of the owners one gets to meet travellers of all kinds and we actually spent time exploring restaurants and sharing dinners with our fellow B&B-ers in Trinity and of course exchanging life stories. Fascinating life stories. B&B-ers in Newfoundland share a sense of adventure and a thirst for the different and unusual. Being a writer, I so delight in these windows into the lives of others.

I don't know why Ontarians are depicted as dull, plodding, careful and predictable. We had a good laugh on the Skerwink trail. Not too many attempt it as it has an element of risk, but the hikers we encountered on the Skerwink were, without exception, all from Ontario!

PS: I'm heading up to Fogo and Twillingate with my granddaughter for a few days for our annual vacation together so I won't be on line until the end of the week. Happy end of summer all!

Fishnet in the Fog

My birthday was yesterday. And it was wonderful. A far, far different day from the plans I had tried to make and the plans that were then substituted. And quite perfect.

One of the lessons of life for me is that it unwinds itself exactly as it should and that I can't control it. And something I keep reminding myself of is that I have to appreciate what's right in front of my face and not look over and yon and bemoan the "lack of" in my life. I think the photo of the fishnet, taken yesterday in St. Bride's in the fog speaks a lot to me: Of not missing the small pile of beautiful colours lost in the surrounding harbour of boats.

I spent the day with the two people I love most in the world, my daughter and granddaughter.

We decided to defer our trip to the St. Pierre & Miquelon islands and spend the day at one of my favourite spots, Cape St. Mary's, which has hundreds of thousands of seabirds to view once you take a hike out on the stunning high cliffs which are covered with wild flowers.

The gannets were a powerful presence, both birds taking care of their chick whilst performing their extraordinarily sensuous "necking" with each other.

The site had an evening performance as an added bonus. with an Irish flavoured old style variety concert which included story telling and the uileann pipes followed by dessert and coffee.

Some days I treasure in my heart forever. This is one of them.

No Hope for Arctic Ice Recovery.

"Just last week, a seven-year study led by University of Alberta scientist Christian Haas revealed "drastic" reductions of up to 50 per cent in the thickness of High Arctic ice and predicted the thinning "could soon result in an ice-free North Pole during summer."

Read more here: Unprecedented

This kind of news should create a state of emergency on the planet, wouldn’t you think?

But no, it’s business as usual with the added bonus of more oil to be drilled in the melted newly perma-frosted Arctic, with, of course, (no surprises here!) the battling of Canada, Russia, Denmark, the U.S. and Norway to establish first dibs.

And the wide open spaces of the Northwest Passage will fortuitously facilitate the new shipping lanes freighting the latest in penny tchotkes from China to Walmart.

New bio-hazards in the oceans are predicted with the Atlantic and Pacific melding rogether for the first time in 3 million years with the Pacific sea creatures making the jump to Altantic waters, and vice versa. Yep, 3 million years.

If our descendants survive, will they ever forgive us?

U.S. $15.6M with interest could be mine!

I have not altered in any way this email that cheered me up no end. I've received many notifications of such inheritances over the years I've had email. But this takes the biscuit in many ways. Note the ATTN with the comma, doesn't even have my name. He was push to contact me, a perfectly nameless stranger. I like how he managed a private search (vs a public one?) He want me to come forward and he can be gratify by me. And he expects my prompt response.

My favourite bit is the decease dying interstate. I wonder how many states the corpse managed to lie on.

The thing is, many, many intelligent people fall for the variants of this scam (commonly called the Nigerian Scam or Hoax) but I note this one is from the Ivory Coast.

On second thoughts, Ivory Coast? Maybe it is genuine? I don't want to miss out on all these millions. I now wish to finalized this issue with my new friend George. Maybe we'll both be gratify.

ATTN,

My name is George Kramo from Cote D I' voire i work as an accountant in our bank i was push to contact you because of my client who died Three years
ago leaving behind Capital amount (US$15.6M with interest) in our bank
here where i work, I am his account manager till date nobody has come
forward or put application for the claim.

During the my private search for the relative recently your name was among the findings that matches the same surname as the deceases name is (withheld for security reason) who died interstate with no Will or next of kin.

To maintain the level of security required I have intentionally left
out the final details. I want you to come forward since I can provide you
with the details needed for you to claim the Funds so that I can be
gratify by you,I will do all the crucial part in the bank to have the claim release to you promptly. To affirm your willingness and cooperation please do so by replying me at my private email georgekramo@ymail.com Indicate therein if you do wish to finalized this issue with me.

I do expect you prompt response.

Thank you,

George Kramo

Who says the Incumbent has no sense of humour?

A master of irony, GWB, with a straight face, delivers this humourous speech to the Chinese:

"We speak out for a free press, freedom of assembly, and labor rights not to antagonize China’s leaders but because trusting its people with greater freedom is the only way for China to develop its full potential.”

And he has them rolling in the aisles with the following:

"The United States believes the people of China deserve the fundamental liberty that is the natural right of all human beings…So America stands in firm opposition to China's detention of political dissidents, human rights advocates, and religious activists.”

Who knew?

Spinster

I did a double take when I saw this death notice in The Telegram today. I can't recall ever seeing the word in an obituary before. {Click on image to see more clearly.}

Isn't this redolent of Jane Austen,lavender, lace handkershiefs, knickers put on the clothesline hidden in pillowcases, gloves, hats and sensible shoes, doilies and afternoon tea?

Pocket Oxford has this to say about it:



Whereas Wiki goes several steps further:

Spinster
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

"Remember no thought to a girl is so dread / As the terrible one—I may die an Old Maid.

"Legally, a spinster (or old maid) is a woman or girl of marriageable age who has been unwilling or unable to marry, therefore has no children. Socially, the term is usually applied only to women who are regarded as beyond the customary age for marriage, and is generally considered an insulting term, more degrading than the term "bachelor" for males. While men can continue to have children into their 70s or 80s, women generally become less and less able to bear children as they get older. So the term "old maid" is only applied to women who are past a child bearing age but have never married."

What struck me rather forceably was that this woman's life was summed up by this still derogatory term. She was a teacher and surely her influence could have been expanded upon rather than filing her under her marital status. I sure hope she had some fun on the way!

What an anachronism for 2008!

Missing: An extra layer of skin.

That’s me.

Maybe I feel things a bit more deeply for I react more sensitively to the situations that others can toss off with a “Next!”

Not me.

I do wish I could move on and leave slights and slings and arrows behind me. Not personalize them so much. Not to feel so hurt.

I’m far too sensitive. "For God's sake," my father would explode, "Why are you always wearing your heart right there on your sleeve?"

I don't know how not to.

With one huge change: this is the stuff I used to drink and overeat over. But not today.

Today I let the feelings wash over me, and allow the flashbacks to old feelings of abandonment, rejection, never good enough, loved enough, respected enough. No stuffing anything down. Feel the feelings. Put them on stones, toss them into the ocean. When I'm ready.

I find out at the last minute my family of origin doesn’t care enough to come and celebrate a significant milestone birthday with me. A party I had planned at the beginning of the year is not going to happen now. I was so looking forward to seeing them here in Newfoundland. Showing them the sights, spending time together under happy circumstances rather than a funeral. I even called it my pre-funeral party.

And to add insult to injury, they leave it to the last minute to tell me they’re not coming. Even relatives that are living really close by to here have made other plans. A multiple whammy of rejection.

I had been sensing this coming when a huge void of silence refused to be ignored anymore. Their original enthusiasm had faded into forwarded jokey-e-mails, never anything personal and my birthday party never addressed.

Is this the emigrant experience, I ask my emigrant friends. Yes, they say, it is finally catching up with you.

I used to go back to my family of origin frequently but in the last few years I felt it was always this one-way scene, they would only come here to Canada when the visit was tied onto the end of a business trip.

I went back for weddings and christenings and just to be with them all. Sometimes several times a year.

And I know it wouldn’t matter as much if I was in a partnership. All my siblings are in partnerships where family rebuffs, real or imagined, are in turn buffered by their significant others.

I wonder about family ties. Do they exist? Is it all ephemeral? Do they just inhabit my imagination?

I’ve changed my plans. I won’t go back to Ireland in September. For the first time in my life I feel this real emotional distance from them all.

I would be staying with strangers.

I hesitated about posting this, but here I am warts 'n all (and , of course, anonymous!).

BLOG JAM (Literally!)

My Bakeapple Jam, August 2008

One of the advantages of living here is that berries grow in the wild and are yours for the energy of picking them. The first of the season are bakeapples, sometimes known as cloudberries, which grow in the marshes. These berries are used for jams (jellies) and salsas and chutneys. I love the taste - I find them slightly reminiscent of the gooseberries of my childhood but with their own unique flavour and gorgeous colourings of amber/yellow with a touch of crimson, co-incidentally the colours with which I am going to paint my dining-room/kitchen.

Next season up is blueberry (and I have these at the back of my property) with after that the partridgeberry and finally the rosehips from the wild roses that spring from every hedgerow.

Also, subsequent to previous posts, the potatoes are thriving:



Potatoes' Progress ~ August 3rd, 2008

This sure gets my mind off other matters - both personal and political, which tend to chew away at one's equilibrium. If we let them.

Who's Yer Daddy?

It seems there is a new terrorist lurking to strike on the U.S. And this will be a devastation beyond any current threat calculations.

We're talking financial terrorism:

China's holdings of U.S. securities have increased from $300 billion in March 2004 to more than $900 billion in June 2007, the latest date for which data are available. Given America's $250 billion trade deficit with China over the past year and the steady stream of money pouring into the country from abroad, economists believe China probably holds nearly $1.2 trillion in U.S. securities today, mostly Treasuries and corporate bonds.

And that doesn't include the roughly $140 billion in U.S. securities held by Hong Kong.

And more:

Meanwhile, China, particularly through its central bank, has become the primary financier of America's budget deficit by using much of its trade surplus with the United States to purchase Treasury debt. At the end of fiscal 2007, China owned 21 percent of the U.S. publicly held debt that was owned by foreigners, and it was buying more than half of the new debt being issued by the federal government.

And more:

"What's most disturbing about the U.S. situation is that as America's debts rise higher and higher, the less influence the American government will have over the critical decisions" that will need to be made to address these imbalances," Mr. Tonelson said. "Those critical decisions will be made in Beijing, not in Washington, and they will be made to promote Chinese economic and national-security interests."

Read more of the same here.

With this kind of financial/debt imbalance U.S. autonomy is just about eroded.

We can all look forward to the new world power: The Empire of China.

Me and my Krups

I’m a creature of simple desires and habits. Really. One of my more serious desires, covetings actually, if the truth be known, was to have my very own Krups machine. For those of you not in the know, a Krups is a combination regular coffee maker and espresso coffee maker. All in the one unit. A black, sensuous, blue lighted, serious piece of kitchen equipment. Made in Germany. Like the Mercedes Benz. Only better.

But it seemed like the height of extravagance and well, okay, downright decadence to get one. When I already had some coffee machines (I collected cheap ones like others collect tea spoons, okay? alright? stop that snorting at the back of the room, please) and a separate espresso machine. So what if their fluidic output fell far short of a Tim Horton’s or a Starbucks. Or that they leaked and couldn’t pour worth a damn. And did some strange things even to the best of coffee beans. Yeah, did I mention I grind my own? I do. I’m a very, very serious coffee aficionado. And I was brought up on tea and Irel and instant if we had coffee. Go figure that one out.

So I took the plunge, about two months ago. I did a web search on the model I wanted and found it in Quebec. And it was half price. And it only took five days to ship it to me.

And it has been a love affair ever since. Did you know a Krups comes with a built-in coffee measure? It does. Do you know neither of its pots’ spouts leak? Did you know the foam from its steamer is the highest? Ever?

I croon to it like a lover. Every morning. Every night. And without fail, it reminds me of all the good coffees I’ve ever shared. Everywhere. Paris. Toronto. Montreal. Chicago. Dublin. London.

Thank you, thank you Krups.
P.S. Mama loves you.

I love Americans!

I particularly love Americans travelling in Canada.

But more than any other tourists on the planet I just adore the Americans travelling in Newfoundland.

And there are a lot more than usual this year. So I get a chance to talk to many of them.

Like tonight. I treated myself to a dinner of plate sized (I exaggerate a little!) scallops in my favourite restaurant in a gorgeous town called Holyrood and shared a smile and a hello with some lilting Deep-South accented Americans at the table across from me.

Later I go for a long walk on the magnificent boardwalk with the Wonder Dog and on the way back meet them again as they take in the beautiful evening air and the sunset over the ocean.

They are missing their dogs terribly, they tell me, even though they have a person dog-sitting them, right in their own home. He especially is lonesome for them, as he communicates on an almost mystical level with dogs as he demonstrated with mine.

So they happily played with Ansa and it turns out they are from Winston Salem in North Carolina and two hours later we finish our conversation.

It encompassed archaeology (they had been on some digs), health care, climate change and, yes, politics. To hear their heartbreak over the last eight years of the mismanagement of their country and their barely expressed ‘hope’ for ‘change’ would make a stone weep.

But more than anything it was the personal details of our lives that bonded us: beloved granddaughters, rescue dogs, a dream of getting off the grid, driving smaller cars, foreign movies and we truly touched souls when we shared our stories of having one troubled daughter out there in the world estranged from family, both with the same name co-incidentally. It eased the pain for the three of us, just sharing that very personal information. And we said this.

And we parted like family. Hugging.

I truly love travelling-in-Newfoundland-Americans.