KINETIC MOTIONS – Page 16 – FEELING THE ENERGY THAT MOVES US

October 6, 2017

Do High Heeled Shoes Define a Woman?

I still watch the TV show Grey’s Anatomy (can you believe it’s already the 14^th season?). In this season’s opening episode, the Chief of Surgery, Dr. Miranda Bailey, struggled with high heeled shoes. More specifically, she didn’t just struggle with actually wearing them but also with what they mean to women. It was a well-written storyline, produced in good-humour, and it had an impact on me, as a woman, who is exploring the next steps I take in my career.

During my 15 plus year career I have never been a high heeled woman. What is a high heeled woman you ask? She is a professional woman who is put together, dressed elegantly every day at work, and every piece of her outfit is carefully considered and matched, down to her high heeled shoes.

My first job was at an all-sports radio station, where I was the lone female among a few dozen men. Jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of running shoes was considered dressed up for work. I fit in with the guys, earned their respect and was more than happy to look like a hobo like the rest of them (especially when I produced the morning show and arrived at work at 4:00 am).

As I moved along my career path, into television then communications I made myself over and dressed accordingly based on my workplace. But I left the high heeled shoes at home.

Do many women feel the pressure to dress up, from head to toe, every day? Do they need to brush their hair just right, put on the right amount of make-up and slide on those high-heeled shoes? Have men put the pressure on us, or have we created this ourselves? Would a man ever consider putting on a pair of shoes in the morning that he knows are uncomfortable, that he knows he must squish his feet into?

Why do women feel compelled to wear high heeled shoes? I realize that for some people the answer is simple. You are an intelligent and successful woman, and you choose to look feminine and sophisticated, and that’s it. Many women feel that the high heeled shoe is part of the required uniform for a female in the professional world. Her feet hurt and sometimes her toes and ankles will blister, but damn, she looks good. No man would ever stand for that.

I did an experiment Thursday morning and wore a pair of sleek, black high-heeled shoes to work (I do own a couple of pairs). I put myself together nicely (I wouldn’t say I looked elegant or sophisticated but I looked okay!), with a light amount of make-up, casual yet professional outfit and my high heeled shoes.

My feet were already hurting as I walked from my car to the elevator. I had to take my shoes off at my desk, as I slowly began to feel my swelling feet doing all they could to escape their prison. By the time I walked back to my car hours later each of my baby toes had a red blister on them and my feet were really sore.

I did get a few compliments on my shoes and how shiny and nice they were. Sleek, high heeled shoes are often noticed and complimented at various offices I have visited. No matter how much agony they are in as they stand there, knowing their feet are enclosed in a space that really only has room for the big toe, these compliments reinforce the idea to other women that high heeled shoes are okay.

For me, they are not okay. I prefer to follow the lead of Dr. Miranda Bailey, a successful, intelligent woman at the top of her game. I am putting my high heeled shoes back in the drawer and pulling out the clogs (or flats) instead.

October 4, 2017

One Season Ends and Another Begins

In October, the seasons are supposed to be changing, from hot days to cooler, from flowers in bloom on trees to the leaves turning bright colours and falling to the ground. I know that any day now Fall will truly arrive. But that’s not the focus of today’s blog post. When I refer to the word season I am talking about sports. In my house, the baseball season, or at least the Blue Jays’ season, has come to a close. But hockey and basketball are just beginning.

My son Matthew is a huge sports fan. In fact, he is the inspiration behind Sports Wednesday. He just can’t get enough of sports. While I have been a sports fan all my life, Matthew takes it to a new level. For him sports is his life, and life is all about sports. So, the changing seasons are all about what sport is ending and what sport is beginning. For Matthew, it’s all about the life cycle of sports.

We all know that the Blue Jays did not live up to the potential that we had all hoped when the 2017 season began. They were out of playoff contention by April 30^th. I won’t go into all the things that went wrong this season. The season is over for the Blue Jays, and we can all look ahead to next year. And hey, the baseball season is not over. October is all about the playoffs, and if you are a true fan of the game, not just one team, then this month is exciting.

If you are a sports fan in general, or at least a sports fan who lives in North America, October is an exciting month. It’s playoffs time for baseball, the football season is in high gear (Canadian and American), the playoffs will soon begin for Major League Soccer and a new hockey and basketball season are both about to begin.

Matthew can’t decide if he is more excited for the new hockey or basketball season. He loves to play basketball (he has set up a mini net in our living room!) and doesn’t like to miss a minute of any Raptors game. Matthew knows who almost every player is in the NBA and can quote stats like a walking encyclopedia. But then there’s hockey. He is a good Canadian boy and knows the importance of hockey in our society. While he doesn’t play hockey, he has grown to love the game.

I will admit that I failed to convince my son to be a Carolina Hurricanes fan. With the excitement in Toronto last year from the new young Maple Leafs’ team, Matthew was hooked. Yes, my son has joined Leaf Nation (it makes me cringe to type that). Tonight is the dawn of yet another NHL season. I am sure that hundreds of thousands of Torontonians believe that THIS season could be the one when their beloved team hoists the Stanley Cup. We’ll see.

So, as we say farewell to one season, we welcome the new one with open arms. Go Hurricanes go!

October 3, 2017

I Cannot Bear any more Horrors of Gun Violence

I went to bed late Sunday night and had trouble falling asleep. I was restless and could not get comfortable. I remember that I looked at the clock beside my bed at 12:45 am, then I must have fallen asleep a few minutes later. Little did I know, as I fell into a deep slumber, in the comfort of my bed, that horror was about to strike down people a few thousand kilometres from my home. It was yet another, more fearsome and deadly than ever, episode of gun violence in the United States.

My sentiments in support of gun control go back to the fall of 2000, during my third and final semester of Journalism School at NYU. For one of my final courses to achieve my Master’s degree, I had to develop, write, produce and edit two short documentaries. The first had to be on a U.S. election issue (do you remember the famous election of 2000?) and the other was on a subject of my own choice.

I was immediately drawn to the issue of gun control for my election piece, and I spent a lot of time and energy researching the subject. As a Canadian, I knew about the strict gun laws that existed at home, but I knew little about the issue in the U.S.

As a journalist, I knew it was my job to seek out all perspectives, to speak with people on both sides of this emotionally charged issue. And I did that. I did my due diligence, and I made sure to interview gun-carrying advocates as well as those in support of strict gun controls.

But it was hard for me to keep my composure when I sat across from a mother who tearfully told me about her son’s last days, before he was shot in the head and killed by a gun. I stayed professional as I recorded the interview and gave her the opportunity to tell me her story.

I produced a fair and well-balanced story, so that anyone who viewed my 8-minute piece was educated on the issue and could make his or her own decision. But I knew where I stood then and I know where I stand now. I believe that not only is there almost no gun control in the United States but that the gun policies that exist in that country are killing its people one by one.

I am not an expert on American gun laws, but if one man can own almost a dozen guns, including a machine gun which can blow off round after round of bullets, there is something wrong with that society.

After each tragedy, where massive casualties due to gun violence have been suffered, we see government and community leaders stand up in front of the world and declare that they can’t take it anymore. They say they can’t bear to watch innocent children murdered or young couples out for an evening concert shot down. But at the end of the day the society as a whole just moves on and waits for the next tragedy.

Can we blame today’s gun violence epidemic on the U.S. Second Amendment? It states, “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” This amendment was enacted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights, and from what I have read, this pertains to individuals. I understand why it was written, back in 1791, based on the current situation in which this young country was living.

But a right to bear arms does not mean that everyone should bear arms. Or if someone feels strongly about this right, how can this person legally acquire a pile of handguns and an assault rifle?

Guns have one purpose: to kill. A gun is not a toy and it’s definitely not art. It is a weapon designed to kill a living being, and that’s it. So, if someone insists on buying one gun, never mind ten guns, society needs checks and balances in place to keep control over those guns and those people with those guns.

Sunday’s act of savage gun violence may have killed more people than any one attack before, but it’s just one of many that have happened this year, in years past, and I am sorry to say, for years to come. Until the people of the United States look inward and understand that guns are killing them from within, they will not change.

My sincere sympathy and condolences to the families and friends of the victims of this week’s gun violence and to those who were killed from violence from guns in the past.

October 2, 2017

Do Most of us Really Understand Religion?

A couple of weeks ago I wished all my readers a Happy New Year. When the sun went down on September 20^th, it was the start of a new year, according to the Jewish calendar. The first month of the year is called Tishrei. It begins with Rosh Hashana, ten days later we mark Yom Kippur and a few days later, on the 15^th of the month, we celebrate the holiday of Sukkot. Sukkot culminates in Shemini Atzeret and Simcha Torah. So, there’s a whole bunch of Jewish holidays crammed into a three-week period every year. Rabbis and scholars tell me that it’s a time of reflection, when sins are considered and our fates are sealed. It is a time of year that for those who observe, religion plays a central role in life. But instead of considering my sins or how good a person I am, I have been thinking more about the question, do most of us really understand religion?

Jews around the world marked Yom Kippur on Friday night and Saturday of this past weekend. The literal translation into English is Day of Atonement. Many people would consider Yom Kippur to be the holiest day of the year. It’s the day of repentance, the day we reflect on our lives and hope that our fates are sealed into the book of life.

The holiday, like all Jewish holidays, begins at sundown. First, we eat before we fast for almost 25 hours (what would a holiday be, no matter what religion you observe, without food?). Then, as the sun sets, the most highly attended prayer service of the year for Jews, begins. Kol Nidre. Kol Nidre is not actually a service rather it is the prayer which opens the holiday of Yom Kippur. Jews around the world have been raised and told by their parents, grandparents and friends that THIS is the holiest night of the year. THiS is the service you must attend, if you are going to go to synagogue just once each year.

The prayer is in Aramaic, a language that is related to Hebrew, but it’s not Hebrew. I am going to make a guess here that the majority of people who are packed into synagogues around the world, who stand there and quietly chant this solemn prayer, have no idea what it means or why they are standing there stuffed into the room with a bunch of well-dressed strangers.

The words the congregation hears, said three times are:

All vows, renunciations, bans, oaths, formulas of obligation, pledges, and promises that we vow or promise to ourselves and to God from this Yom Kippur to the next—may it approach us for good—we hereby retract. May they all be undone, repealed, cancelled, voided, annulled, and regarded as neither valid nor binding. Our vows shall not be considered vows; our renuncia- tions shall not be considered renunciations; and our promises shall not be considered promises.

Then everyone in the room says three times (in Aramaic):

“The entire congregation of the people Israel shall be forgiven, as well as the stranger who dwells among them, for all have erred.”

Then the Rabbi (or cantor) closes with the famous prayer, in Hebrew, She-hecheyanu, : “Barukh atah Adonai, our God, ruler of time and space, for granting us life, for sustaining us, and for bringing us to this moment.”

Then the rest of the night is spent reciting the evening service, known in Hebrew as Ma’ariv.

I have attended many a Kol Nidre service in my 41 years. I have also spent hours at synagogue on Yom Kippur, as I flipped through the prayer book to check how many more pages until I could go home. I read, speak and write Hebrew and can confidently say I understand a fair amount of what’s written in Jewish prayer books. But, does being in synagogue, reading and reciting prayers, and listening to the Rabbi speak make me feel more religious? Does it help me grasp what religion is? For me, definitely not.

Do people suddenly discover religion on Yom Kippur? Do they alight to some spiritual plateau that I have yet to find? Will I ever find it?

This year, I will admit, I did not attend synagogue to hear Kol Nidre chanted. I have been fighting a cold for almost two weeks and didn’t have the strength to get to synagogue. I sent David with the three kids so that I could have a quiet evening at home. I will tell you that those precious few hours in my quiet house gave me the opportunity for true reflection (when I started to ask this question, do most of us understand religion).

By Saturday afternoon I felt better and joined David and the children at synagogue for Yom Kippur’s concluding service, called Ne’ilah. It is the least attended service of the Jewish holiday season, but it’s my favourite. It’s the one when I don’t check to see how many pages are left or stand miserably, pushed up beside some well-dressed stranger.

I find Ne’ilah uplifting, maybe even a bit exciting. As I stood there, as the service came to its climax, as the Book of Life was being sealed for yet another year, I suddenly realized what religion meant for me. It’s not about prayers or fasting or keeping kosher or other observances.

It’s about community.

The Ne’ilah service ended and the Havdalah service began. Havdalah, another Hebrew word, literally means “separation.” It is a wonderful, special ceremony that is performed to separate the Jewish Sabbath (or Holidays) from the rest of the week.

I stood there, holding my baby, arm in arm with my children, as we blessed the candles, spices, wine and the new week. Our synagogue group stood strong together and sang, not because we shared a religion or because we felt more devout but because we were a community. I think, as human beings, we all seek out community.

So maybe I was wrong. Maybe on this Yom Kippur I did finally reach that spiritual plateau. I did not find religion, but I found community.

September 29, 2017

Are we a Defiant Society?

Recently I attended an event, where I volunteered as an usher and general support for the organizer. As the keynote speaker was about to begin his speech I was asked to help corral participants (about 150 people) to the designated seating area to hear and watch the presentation. It was a mid-morning event, and people had coffee cups and snacks in their hands. Most of them happily listened and took a seat in the designated area. But a few people were defiant and refused to listen. No matter how many times they were asked, in many different polite but firm ways, they stood, or sat, where they wanted.

I’m all for standing up for yourself, being a strong person and holding your ground. In the right situation. I hope that I am raising my children to be confident, strong people. But, that’s not the same as defiant.

When I look up “defiant” in my word processor’s thesaurus, I’m intrigued that its suggested words are everything from insolent and insubordinate to bold and cheeky. Interesting. Actually, I’m laughing. My middle child, Julia, is most definitely a cheeky little girl, and her personality can definitely be defined as bold. But for me, that’s not the same as defiant.

Insolent and insubordinate are definitely the terms I would use to describe the people who defied my requests to sit with the rest of the group at the event. These people were just plain rude and they stood out from the crowd in a negative way. And I don’t believe their behaviour is unique in our society anymore.

I see defiant behaviour every day when I drive around the city. The person who jumps the stop sign and rolls through when it’s my turn to go or the aggressive driver who pushes into a turning lane last minute so as to avoid the long line to get on the highway. How about the cyclist that flies through a red light or rides the wrong way on a one-way street? Defiant? I think so.

Maybe this behaviour is situational. For example, have you noticed how defiant people can be at the airport? When you travel, how many times are you forced to line up? If you check a bag, line up at the desk to hand it over. Then line up for security. There’s always a line-up to get food or drink, and my gosh, what a process to line up to get on the plane. People try to cut in and cut you off all over the airport, every step of the way. The person who pushes in line ahead of me to get on the plane first – is that person defiant or has he or she just had enough of the stresses of travel? Based on my many experiences traveling, I would say, defiant.

Maybe I’m just a crank and have become too touchy as I get older. Maybe I am easily bothered by what I see as purely impertinent behaviour. I feel it’s important to show consideration for those around you – whether it’s a driver in the other lane, the traveler ahead of you in line at security or the person who asks you to take your seat with the group. Be bold and cheeky when the situation calls for it. Be respectful and compliant when it doesn’t.

September 28, 2017

The Invictus Games Honour those who are Unconquered

I like to follow the comings and goings of the British Royal family and have fond memories of that summer day in 1981 when Charles and Diana got married. I grew up reading articles and seeing photos of the couple’s sons, Prince William and Prince Harry. International media are always interested in covering negative news about the famous princes and any trouble they got themselves into as they came of age. But I’m proud of the media this week, in particular, Canadian media, as they celebrated the Invictus Games and the role of its founder, Prince Harry.

I applaud all men and women, from countries around the world, who serve in the military. It takes tremendous commitment and dedication to be a soldier, and it’s not for everyone. Prince Harry served in the British military from 2005-2015, and he was deployed to Afghanistan during some of that time. He saw with his own eyes what war can do to a soldier and the physical and emotional scars that go with serving.

I had the opportunity to meet and speak with many Canadian soldiers and veterans when I was Director of the Sears Canada Charitable Foundation when we sponsored a program called Operation Wish. This was our salute to the Canadian Armed Forces and our wish to help soldiers, veterans and their families during the Holiday season.

While some of these Canadian soldiers had obvious physical disabilities that they suffered while they served their country, many of them shared with me the long-term personal challenges and demons they faced as well.

When I heard about the Invictus Games I immediately applauded Prince Harry and the people around him who created this wonderful international competition. I learned today that Invictus is the Latin word for unconquerable. The hundreds of athletes who have competed in these games since 2014 are truly unconquerable. Not only have they overcome some tremendous physical and mental disabilities, they have conquered them, through sport.

I will admit that while I live in Toronto, close to many of the venues, I have not attended any of the Invictus Games’ events yet this week. It runs from September 23-30 throughout the city, with hundreds of athletes competing in various sports such as cycling, golf, athletics, swimming, and wheelchair basketball, to name a few.

There are soldiers and veterans from 17 different countries competing at 9 different venues throughout the city of Toronto. There is Wheelchair Tennis at Nathan Phillips Square, at the foot of Toronto’s City Hall. The Archery competition is happening at the Fort York National Historic Site, in downtown Toronto. Fort York was a military battlefield during the War of 1812. Cyclists have the opportunity to ride around a custom designed course in High Park, our city’s beautiful 400-acre park on Toronto’s west side.

Our city has come alive this week, thanks to the Invictus Games and its Royal Patron, Prince Harry. This international competition celebrates a group of people who deserve to be celebrated and honoured. Prince Harry put it best:

“These Games shine a spotlight on the unconquerable character of servicemen and women and their families. They highlight the competitors’ “INVICTUS GAMES spirit.” These Games have been about seeing competitors sprinting for the finish line with everything they have and then turning around to clap the last person in. They have been about teammates choosing to cross the line together. These Games have been a display of the very best of the human spirit.”

September 26, 2017

When you ASSUME You Make an Ass out of You and Me

Oh yes, I am going bold with my headline today. I am talking about the word assume, which I think is a great word. Actually, it’s a dangerous word. I believe that when we make assumptions we end up with unintentional, often bad consequences.

I thought of this most intriguing word last week, at a business where I am doing some contract work. The team at this business is a group of hard-working, dedicated, good people. They are a mix of young and more experienced employees; some have been there many years while others are new.

An event was carefully planned by the group, with specific roles communicated. Every detail seemed to be in place, but a few key players did not follow through with the roles they were assigned. We all assumed that everyone would do their job, and we did not check in with each of the players. The team came together fast and picked up the pieces, but our assumptions showed holes in the plan.

Once everyone was calm, later in the day, I looked at one of my wonderful colleagues and said to her, “Today will make a great blog post because when you assume…,” and she answered, “You make an ass out of you and me.” Correct.

It’s exactly how we felt that day. And we all learned never to assume.

But did we learn? How many times can we all say we made an assumption and lived to regret it later?

Sometimes our assumptions can have minor, almost laughable consequences. It’s a beautiful, sunny morning. You throw on a t-shirt and head out for the day, leaving the umbrella at home of course. You assume that if it’s sunny outside the weather will be nice all day. Hours later, you regret that you did not check the weather forecast, which would have told you that rain was expected in the afternoon. You arrive home soaked and cold.

Sometimes I go out for the evening, to the theatre with my mother or dinner with the ladies. I leave my husband, David, at home with the kids. The kitchen is not quite cleaned up and the house is a mess. When I leave my house, I assume that I will come home, hours later, to a clean kitchen and sleeping children. Boy, am I wrong, every single time. Maybe one child is asleep or maybe the leftovers from dinner will be in the fridge and David is usually asleep. But, clean kitchen and three sleeping children? Never.

When you assume, sometimes there can be more serious consequences than getting wet in the rain or finding three children running around your house at 11:00 pm. If your child had a fever overnight and woke up in the morning with a lower body temperature don’t assume he or she is better and send the kid to school. That fever will be back in a few hours and you will get the call of shame to pick the kid up.

When you are waiting at a traffic light to make a left turn and it’s about to go red do not assume that the car accelerating towards you will stop when that light goes red so that you can make your turn. Wait a couple of seconds, because most drivers want to make the light. If you assume that car will stop and you start to turn, then you may get into an accident. I never assume that a car will stop.

Okay back to some assumptions with less dire consequences. Has your child ever come up to you and said, “Mommy (or Daddy), I think I need to throw up.” You assume you have time to get said child to a toilet or to get a bucket. But, moments later, you are covered in vomit.

Have you ever walked down the street after a big rainstorm, where everywhere around you are huge puddles? You see a big car coming towards you and assume the person will slow down. Oh, but no. The car drives briskly through the puddles, leaving you covered in dirty, disgusting rainwater.

There are so many more examples I can cite when we assume and then must deal with the consequences. So, I guess there is a simple solution: go with your instincts, and never assume!

September 25, 2017

Maybe I should just Wear Black Every Day

I open my closet and look around. Then I open a couple of drawers in my dresser and consider my options. Do I wear a dress today? Pants? What colour shirt? It’s cool this morning but the weather forecast says it’s going to be hot this afternoon. Maybe I should wear a sweater? I can’t decide. The daily decision, to choose what to wear, is just too hard. Maybe it would be easier if I just wear black every day.

I will admit that I probably own too much clothing. I will further admit that I probably don’t wear much of the clothes I own, but I am unable to go through my clothes and discard the stuff I don’t wear anymore. So, my closet is stuffed with too much clothing, which makes my decision of what to wear each day even harder.

I know that I am not alone in having this daily challenge. As my father puts it well, it’s a first-world problem. But it’s something so many of us face. And it’s not only adults who deal with this problem, but kids and teens too.

I remember when I was a teenager, and each morning I carefully chose my outfit for school. I’m not a fashionista, but back then I cared about what I looked like and how I carried myself. It would have been much easier if I went to a school that had a uniform. My gosh, it must be so much easier each morning to put on the same shirt and pants (or skirt) and head out for the day. Yes, I’m in favour of school uniforms.

By the time I hit university I didn’t care as much what I wore. I noticed that many of my fellow students, especially those who lived in a dorm, often looked like they just rolled out of bed. In particular, if I attended an early morning class, few people were awake during a lecture, never mind wearing anything close to high fashion.

My first “real” job was at a sports radio station, where I worked with a great group of people. It was me and a few dozen guys. Jeans and a t-shirt was considered dressed up for work. I literally threw on whatever I found first in my closet. When I switched over to sports television I wouldn’t say the dress code improved much. I remember when I then moved over to an office, when I started to work in communications, I had nothing to wear!

How often do you wake up in the morning, open your closet and say to yourself, I have nothing to wear? Or you look at your clothes, ponder what to wear and just say to yourself, maybe I should just wear black every day. Wouldn’t life be much easier? Black shirts, black pants, black skirts, black shorts. I understand why waiters wear black in restaurants or clerks dress in black in stores.

When I wear black I think I look chic, neat, tidy and always in style. Okay, some could say that black is the “colour” when in mourning, but really, it’s a come a long way. Others could say that getting dressed is more than just about the colour you wear. Fair point. If I owned 30 black shirts I would still have to choose one of them each day. But at least it would be one less step in the line of decisions. I would know it would always be black.

And so it’s Monday today, the start of another week. Another week with crazy weather when I just don’t know what to wear. Maybe the Paper Bag Princess had a good idea….

September 19, 2017

It’s High Time for some Holidays

It’s that time of year again. As the evenings grow cooler (or are supposed to) and the leaves start falling from the trees, it means another year on the Jewish calendar is coming to a close. Tomorrow is the final day of the year 5777, and in the evening, we will ring in the new year with family festivities and a whole lot of food. That’s right, it’s High time for some Holidays.

Different religions and nationalities celebrate the New Year at a different time of year. Chinese New Year typically falls between January 21 and February 20, during the coldest part of the winter in Canada. Hindus don’t actually have one common day and instead have at least three different New Year’s days on the calendar. From what I read, “the celebration of the new year has more to do with community, language and region, than with religious affiliation.”

For Judaism, while some feel like the spring, during the month of Nissan, when Passover falls, is the new year, the Holiday in fact happens when summer turns to fall, in the Jewish month of Tishrei. The Holiday that many of you have heard of is called Rosh Hashanah, which directly translated from Hebrew is head (Rosh) of the year (Hashanah). Simply put, it’s Jewish New Years.

There are no street parties, fireworks, or counting down to midnight beside a dropping ball. Rosh Hashanah, like all Jewish Holidays, begins at sundown, and people celebrate in different ways. But one common thread through all celebrations, like so many other Jewish Holidays, is food and family. What would a holiday be without this pairing?

Not to minimize the role that synagogue, prayer and the blowing of the shofar (the traditional ram’s horn) play on this most important Holiday, but today I am focusing mainly on food and family.

David and I both come from large families (David is the youngest of five kids and I’m in the middle of three), all of our siblings are married, each with at least two children. If you put our two immediate families together you have more than enough people to play a baseball game, with extra pitchers in the bullpen and players on the bench. So, when it’s Holidays time, we draw on a large group with whom to celebrate.

Our wider family circle is just too big to celebrate together (and members of the family live all over the world), so we don’t see everyone in one evening. Whether it’s a large group of 25-30 people, with tables lined up across the back of my house, or a more intimate crowd of 10-12 in my dining room, I always look forward to the Holidays.

The emails about menu planning and food combinations start swirling around weeks (sometimes months!) in advance. Who’s making the soup? How many proteins do we need? Are five kinds of dessert enough? Will the children eat any of the food we are preparing? Do we care if the children eat, as they will behave so badly anyway and probably won’t eat anything, no matter what it is….

As the days draw closer to Rosh Hashanah, I suddenly realize that Matthew grew two inches over the summer and his only nice pants look more like capris. Julia’s feet are suddenly two sizes larger and running shoes really don’t go with her beautiful new puffy pink dress. Should Nessa wear tights with her dress, as she most definitely will bum walk all over the floor.

Do I throw disposables on the table and make it easy or do I dress up my dining room table for once and pull out the fine china? Do I dare try to host an elegant evening? Okay, forget that thought – elegant and High Holidays meals don’t go together.

Will I get the annual Rosh Hashanah photo of the kids? I have been successful a few times, but usually someone misbehaves and the resulting picture is too embarrassing to share publicly. I have included just a few here, as really most are not acceptable for public consumption.

Holidays — Matthew’s first Rosh Hashanah, from September 2007

And since the Holidays begins tomorrow, I had better get cooking. To all my readers, whether you celebrate or not, I wish you a happy and healthy New Year. Let the celebrations for 5778 begin!

September 18, 2017

Insects are not my Best Friends

Picture it: a beautiful and warm Sunday morning in September. The sun is shining. I brew myself a latte in my espresso maker and stroll out to my deck that overlooks my backyard. I sit down in a comfy chair with my coffee, ready to relax and enjoy the morning. Then a wasp appears, then another, and another. Are they attracted to my coffee? No way. Are they attracted to me? Maybe? They always find me – not just wasps, but all insects.

I can’t sit there with these invaders. I quickly get up, grab my coffee and run indoors. The wasps have won again. Every year, when we hit September, my backyard is overrun by wasps. Or at least, I think they are wasps. I will admit, I am by far not an expert. Some people may call these insects yellow jackets. I don’t think we have hornets, and I am quite sure that what I see in my backyard are not bees. Whatever they are, we don’t get along.

I am all for a balanced ecosystem, and I understand that insects, even the invasive wasp, must be respected. But why do they love my backyard so much? And my front yard? Okay, I know why they love my front yard. Some tree, which possibly lives on a neighbour’s yard, drops a sticky substance in September, and for sure that encourages the massive social gathering of wasps every morning on and around my car. The wasps seem to glue themselves to the windows of the car and hang on tight as I drive away each morning. They are stalking me.

Now let me be clear – it’s wasps that are my enemy. I don’t have a problem with bees, or at least, I don’t have a problem with honey bees. To be even more specific, I don’t have a problem with worker honey bees. Why? Well, I learned something very interesting this past weekend when I did some online research about the honey bee.

The worker bees in every honey bee colony are ALL female. These tough ladies will live for only about 6 weeks in the summer, and they NEVER sleep. That’s right. They work and work, all the time, until they die. The worker honey bee seems to represent the life of all working women, and I have the utmost respect for them.

Then there are spiders. As I type this, my daughter, knowing how I shake with fear at the sight of this arachnid, coincidentally just placed a rather large, very real-looking plastic spider on the table beside me. I contained my inner shriek, but I did flick that thing away very quickly.

I don’t like spiders. They capture and eat mosquitos (yet another insect on my “I don’t like” list) and I know they make incredible webs from the silk they produce. But they terrify me. The way they cling to the ceiling and run across the floor on those eight legs. It makes shiver just thinking about it.

Back to my backyard family of wasps. I don’t know where their hive is and I can’t get rid of them. I must have some sensor on me that informs the colony that Alicia has come outside and it’s time for the party to begin. It means no al fresco dining in September, minimal tending of my garden in September and definitely no morning coffee outside in September. If you have any suggestions about how to mitigate my problem, I would love to hear your ideas. Leave me a comment here, put a post on Facebook or Tweet me @AliciaRichler.