TRUE GRIT

I love and want a clean home; I hate and abhor housework! There, I admit it.

"Just get a cleaning lady", you suggest. Welllllll? I had a cleaning lady when I worked, but upon retirement decided to take on the odious tasks myself. "You'll have all sorts of spare time", I reasoned with myself. What was I thinking?

Housework is mundane, boring, tedious, tiresome, the same old same old. Tell us how you really feel, Daphne! What you clean today is messy again tomorrow. Thankless! I avoided that kind of mindless career only to now find myself during retirement in a repetitious routine. Ugh! Me-time has become increasingly precious and housework impinges on it. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Don't get out your mini sympathetic violins yet. I'm only publicly feeling sorry for myself because this spring has been the absolute worst. Fighting winter's snow and ice, Uxbridge Township rarely uses salt on the roads; sanding is their preferred method. I support that policy except when springtime breezes whip up the dry sand spinning it up into the air currents. Our driveway, a long stretch of scruffy, cracking, pitted asphalt is being replaced, which replacement requires that after the old asphalt has been removed, the gravel base settle and be compacted for four weeks. Oh goody, more dust in the air. My mulch obsession, which when dry, produces even more........yup, dust! Oh, And don't forget to add yellow pollen to the mix.

Springtime is the time of year, before air conditioning is required, when we can open our windows and enjoy the glorious, fresh Uxbridge breezes, the very breezes carrying winter sand, driveway dirt, mulch dust and pollen into our home. True grit? No, it is not the fortitude and determination with which I attack housework. That's actually laughable! True grit is what daily covers our furniture, dark floors, window sills, and, and, and. What I dusted off two hours ago, requires dusting again. Ah come on!

"What did you do today."
"Dusted, dusted and dusted!" Inject growl here.

And so ladies and gentlemen, l am thinking of allowing the gritty dust to build up on our furniture, floors and sills and then of opening a doodling camp. It is said that doodling is good for relaxation!?! Registration is free. We could, if persuaded, serve wine while you allow your creative juices to flow. Anyone interested?

WHACK! #@&@*! WHACK!

The smell of the newly mown grass, the variation of vibrant greens, and the panorama of a blue, white cloud-studded sky made my heart swell today. In spite of the biting cold and Michelin-man clothing layers, it was great to be back on the golf course again......finally!

Make no mistake. In no way do I possess even a scrap of talent for the sport. Discovering the passtime late in my life, after retirement actually, and in spite of my horrible game, golf has stolen its way into my heart.

Being outside on a slightly breezy day and breathing in the fresh air of wide open green, green spaces is a long awaited, post-winter tonic. I feel alive again! The beauty of many courses is enough to take your breath away, my all-time favourite being Rancho Mañana in Cave Creek, Arizona. Truth be known, with those views, if it weren't for Mr. Trump, I could take up residence there.

Aside from the value of exercise. golf is good for my aging brain.......I think! If I was a cartoon when teeing off (driving), the 'thought bubble' above my head would read, "Concentrate. Straight left arm. Breathe. Slow take away. Shift weight. Head down. Keep your eye on the ball. Don't love your shot. And swing........" Try to run all of those thoughts through a seventy-year old brain within a thirty-second period. Aaaach! Phyllis Diller once said, "The reason a pro tells you to keep your head down is so you can't see him laughing." For me......true! Oh, I should mention that golf has been the cause of my increased vocabulary. Who knew that "fabo" means "f**king aweful, but on"? Hah! Obviously my knowledge of the English language is increasing in leaps and bounds.

What? You like fashion? Nowhere have I seen so many peacocks sporting bright colours. Shoes, hats, sunglasses, shirts, shorts, belts, shirts...........the fashion possibilities are never-ending. Where else do you see men in pastel pants and colourful socks?  Now, if only I could muster the courage to wear this:

The camaraderie of a golf foursome, whether family or friends, is nothing short of awesome. The serious shot analyses, group groans, congratulations, bubbling laughter and the 19th Hole continue to draw me to the game.

And finally there is hope. Whack! #@&%*! Ah well, the next shot will be better.

Oh my God, it was great to be back today ladies. Thank you!

A SILENT THANK YOU

While waiting for Jim at Sunnybrook's Holland Centre, I sat transfixed by the incoming parade of patients. New and returning, borderline destitute and well heeled, white and coloured, obese and gaunt, aged and young. Overwhelmed by the cross section of humanity, I said a silent 'thank you' for Canada's universal health care system. Each of these patients, with or without pre-existing conditions,  could afford the care that would potentially improve their life.

Relax! Don't yell! I didn't say that our system is the best the world has to offer. The Netherlands and Scandinavian countries I think lay claim to that prize. I also understand fully that our system is not perfect. Jim is a prime example - a botched surgery and midnight MRI appointment. Yes, I said midnight! Wait times are a plague - waiting for a doctor's appointment, waiting in the ER, waiting for elective surgery. Two of my friends have opted to pay the cost of almost immediate joint replacement surgery in the U.S. rather than painfully wait in Canada.

Yes, our system needs tweaking from its 1960's inception model. However, my Health Card, aside from out-of-pocket expenses for prescriptions, dental work and eyeglasses, means that I and my fellow Canadians will rarely bear crippling health care expenses.

Not so for our neighbours to the south. Under Trump's new health care bill, many people in their sixties will see their premiums rise by thousands of dollars; some could see their premiums double. An American medical friend of ours, before Obamacare, spoke of seniors crippled and wheel chair bound because joint replacement surgery was too expensive for their limited incomes. What civilized society finds this acceptable?

Last week, Jimmy Kimmel, in emotionally speaking of his son's heart scare, said, "If your baby is going to die and it doesn't have to, it shouldn't matter how much money you make......." and then with his voice breaking, he added, "No parent should ever have to decide if they can afford to save their child's life".  Kimmel's heartfelt speech was met with a most disgusting response from Joe Walsh, a former Congressman from Illinois. He tweeted, "Sorry Jimmy Kimmel: your sad story doesn't obligate me or anybody else to pay for someone else's health care".  Remember these words when next you step into Sick Kids Hospital where cutting edge, life saving medical care is blessedly free for Canada's next generation.

It should be noted that the surgeon who saved Kimmel's son trained at Sick Kids in Toronto. Jim's surgeon, Dr. Gollish, developed the surgery which will allow Jim to walk properly again. The majority of our doctors, nurses and physiotherapists are second to none.

Christopher's friend, Stephanie, spoke of her doctor father's decision to leave South Africa to practise in Canada where the health care system is a "shining example". Remember to say a silent thank you next time you flash your Health Card and receive quality, free treatment. Thank you Tommy Douglas for your foresight. Thank you Canada for your compassion.