Monday, January 15, 2018

Can Hair Dye Make You Mad as a Hatter?

My hairdresser Laurie is a magician. Once every eight weeks, she makes my grey roots go away and makes me look young again. I don't question the magic ingredients, I just pay her to make the magic happen.
I have read and/or heard snippets over the years about the chemicals in the hair dye: lead acetate, mercury compounds, and other nasty sounding toxic stuff. The lists of ailments allegedly brought on by long term use of the magic reads like the last five seconds of narrative blitzed through on American prescription drug commercials. They start with irritability, fatigue, and headaches and always end with death.
Does this information concern me? Kinda, but not enough to cancel my next appointment with Laurie. I am already mad as a hatter, a few more chemicals can't make it much worse. This world is full of toxic stuff and we are all going to die at the end. I really don't want to be caught dead with grey roots.
Logic and reasoning in the cloud that I inhabit questions why, if these chemicals are in my hair dye and are being absorbed from my hair into my brain, why then are the roots of my hair grey? It makes more sense to me that the grey roots are a sign that as my hair grows out it is taking grey matter from my brain and allowing it to leak out. Hmm? Now that would explain everything!

Monday, December 4, 2017

Another Episode of A Day in the Life of Karen's Feet

This may be one of the grossest videos I have posted, and believe you me, I know Gross. In fact, I married him almost 30 years ago.

It is not the grossest video I have ever taken, but for the sake of my more delicate and discerning friends, I have restrained myself from posting them. You're welcome. You may also want thank Megan for not letting me post footage of a cat giving birth. Now who wouldn't want to see that? You can put your hands down now, I can't see you.

So then, with no further ado (or we will be here until you are eating dinner when you finally get to see the video), let's see if yours truly can get the video from phone to blog. This could take awhile, excuse me, talk amongst yourselves.

And: there you have it. Once again I have successfully managed to upload a video from my phone. I won't tell you how long it took, but I should not have concerned myself  about the delicate constitutions of my friends and anyone who may have accidentally wandered onto my blog. It was several hours past lunch by the time I got it posted!

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

The Writing on the Wall

         When the Writing on the Wall . . . .              

 . .   .  .  . .. ..    .  ..     . .  .      . .  .  .  
.. .. .  .. .   . ..     .  .    .. ..  .    ..    .  .  
 . .     .     .        .  .     .            .    .  .  
. . .  is written in Braille!

   I saw a sign in a public washroom awhile back that I thought was a bit odd. The first line was a normal message for the territory: "Employees must wash hands before returning to work." The sign was posted above the mirror over the sink. The second line was, I assume, a translation of the first -- in English, I also assume, although I could not read it. It was written in Braille.

   I've noticed in many public buildings that the doors have name plates with the room number and designation in print and in Braille. Often the door to the restroom also has a Braille notification. But I have never seen a blind person reading the door plates or desperately searching the walls for the men's or ladies' room. I am sure that there are blind people who do make use of these labels, I just have never noticed.

   But this "Employees must wash hands ..." notice gave me a rather disturbing mental picture of a blind employee running her dirty hands along the walls, checking for any Braille signage on the walls, until she comes to the mirror. Reaching up, in my mind on tiptoes because I would probably have to stand on tiptoes to reach, her sensitive fingers find a sign in Braille, and she remembers that her germ covered hands must be washed before she returns to work. 

It made me ever so grateful that I can read with my eyes. 

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Artificial Life

It could be just a conspiracy, but I have come to suspect that life here in North America is artificially sustained. Have you observed this? Here are a few clues:

Do you know where your food has been? Has hunting and gathering been replaced with Spam and Tang? 

Do you eat food from plants, or has it been manufactured in a plant?

Do you use cleaning products that contain real lemons for that "lemony fresh scent" while your food contains artificial flavors and colours?

Can you leave a loaf of bread on the counter for two weeks before it starts to get mouldy?

Do you have to buy vitamins and nutritional supplements  to replace the nutrition that has been processed out of your food?

I remember the first time that my kids made the connection that the chicken on the table was actually a bird. We went to a luau once, and my kids were horrified that we were going to eat a dead pig. 

I think that cartoons with personified farm animals were created to turn kids into vegetarians. Except for McDonalds hamburgers of course. 

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Who Moved the Floor?

          What is up with down?

     Nobody warns you about this stuff. I remember talk about how older people tend to get shorter -- something about your spine . . . disks shrinking . . . the bones of your vertebrae shifting or something . . . and I'm pretty sure that I have lost some height while gaining some width; so the floor should be closer now -- so why does it seem like the floor is farther away every time I have to bend down to pick something up? Have you noticed this too?

     And if I am getting shorter, why are my toes so far away? I'm sure that it used to be a lot easier to cut my toenails too. For quite some time now I haven't been able to reach my pinkie toenails at all. Is anyone else having this problem? 

    As if that all isn't enough, chairs are getting lower! It didn't used to be nearly this difficult getting out of a chair, and I am sure that I used to be able to sit down with a lot more grace . . . .

    Is this you too?



Sunday, October 8, 2017

Is This You Too?

Ever realize that you have been surfing the net for an hour, procrastinating the dozens of tasks that ought to be done already, just because you hear a 'ping!' and you tell yourself that this time you are just going to check  Facebook Messenger to find out who pinged you, because you feel guilty about all of the stuff you should be doing, but whoever is sending you a message might need an answer right away, or it could be a very important message, who knows who could have sent it, so you will just stop at the computer for a minute or two, and then you will get back to the laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, or whatever;

 and then . . .
[pause for breath here ....]

 --  you remember that the reason you stopped at the computer was to check messenger -- and you haven't done that yet?

Been there, Done that???

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Justice, Equality, and Water for All!

The other day, while Derek and I were having lunch in a little Chinese restaurant in the city, we witnessed an injustice perpetrated against a woman of no visible minority. I'm pretty sure she was blond. Then again, I am not very observant and I forget details almost before I see them. I would make a lousy witness. But this woman made quite an impression.

She was dining alone, and seemed a bit agitated. Suddenly she jumped up and stomped to the back of the restaurant.We didn't mean to eavesdrop, but in that tiny room there was no way to not hear.

She was irate over water. Seriously. The waitress had come by with water a couple of times and topped off our glasses. She did the same for the two people at the table next to ours, but for whatever reason, she skipped the table where this woman had been sitting. The irate woman wanted to speak with the manager because the waitress didn't offer her more water.

The manager, the waitress, and the kvetcher all made their way to the front of the restaurant. The waitress pointed out the half full glass of water on the table. The manager asked what the problem was. Apparently the customer was the 'glass half empty' type. She complained that everyone else in the restaurant (all four of us) had our water glasses topped up, while hers remained half empty. In her own defence, the waitress protested that the woman had not asked for more water. There was no deliberate attempt to deprive one of her customers of water.

The manager asked the woman why she had not asked for more water, and if she still wanted some. The explanation? The customer accused the waitress of discrimination against her, pouring fresh water for all of the other diners without asking if they wanted more. Why should she have to ask? All that she wanted was equality.

For water. In Canada, where water is free and plentiful.
First World Problems. Seriously, people.