Two Bossy Virgins

Deb: Colin and I were offered two front row tickets to BruceSpringsteen and the E Street Band the other night.  Colin was doing shows in California, so I called me buddy Barb and said, “Have you ever seen Bruce?” Her response was a great example of why I adore her. She got breathless. “No No NOOO!” was her breathy response, escalating in both pitch and volume. Because after all, it is the Boss.

I proceeded to tell her that she was about to have the night of her life. I did not worry about building up her hopes only to see them dashed after a half hour into this concert. Because it is the Boss. And as such, I knew with certainty that even if he were not her favourite artist, she was going to see a show like none other. In this case, three hours and forty minutes of pure rock and roll.

Our benefactor also left us passes for the E Street Lounge that had food and cocktails, but we arrived only ten minutes before the concert. Toronto was jam-packed with cars and people this night, which made parking spots as scarce as hen’s teeth. But finally I found one and hurriedly headed to our gate, marveling at the crowds and, in particular, their unusual concert-going gear. But as I pushed my way through Klingons, Sailor Moons, Darth Vaders and Avengers, I realized all too late that it was Fan Expo 2012 and I was in the middle of a fabulous moving comic book. After I finally made it to the gate, Barb came running up, having paid … WAIT FOR IT ... $50.00 for parking, breaking my previous record of $40.00.

If anyone from the appropriate department at City Hall is reading this: Really? Really? Gouge much? Come on. Man up on that. That is literally robbery! I digress.........................

So we ran down to our seats giggling and arrived just as they started playing Take Me out to the Ballgame as we watched Bruce and the band leave their dressing room and head to the stage. Bruce usually plays at the ACC but tonight we were in the Skydome (yes, I know, Rogers Centre ... SKYDOME!), which is also home of the Toronto Blue Jays, hence the song. The roof was open and the CN Tower loomed above our heads and the weather was sassy warm with a perfect little breeze, light blue then dark blue sky as our roof. We were starving and thirsty and just as we arrived at our seats, the beer and wine cart pulled up, making the timing perfect to toast Bruce’s entrance.

I smiled over at my Bruce newbie, my E Street virgin, and her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide. This was my 6th Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce concert. I warned her, as she was new, that when the crowd sounded like they were booing, what they were really doing was yelling Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce in low even tones.

The way I figure it, you can’t be a veteran at a Bruce Springsteen concert because each and every time it is as if you are seeing him for the first time. He comes on, sans warm-up band at the stroke of 8 as promised and proceeds to go, full tilt boogie, till the rockin’ end. In the middle he picked a little girl out of the audience and she sang a duet with him like a pro, and no, it wasn’t a plant. It was so dear and he had us in the palm of his hand. He leapt, he dived, he ran, he blasted us with song. And even then, he did not look spent and his voice never faltered. Other than the fact that he is sopping wet, he appears like he could keep going and going. In the middle of the concert, in the middle of Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, they did a beautiful tribute to the big man, the late Clarence Clemons, which the crowd loved. Clarence’s nephew Jake has taken his spot in the band and it seemed right. Talented and adorable with a great personality that shines through. Good thing. Big shoes to fill.

Barb and I rocked. Barb and I rolled. Barb and I got our groove thing on. Barb and I got our buzz on. We were eternally young that night and we have our generous ticket donor and Bruce and the E Street Band to thank for it.

It constantly comes up in the press that there is an age where a rocker should stop rocking. Bruce and the band is the best example for me of the theory that rocking it out is ageless. There were huge newbie cheers when Bruce asked who was there for the first time.  And now they know why they were there and they will be back.  He’s the Boss. What can I say?

Glory days indeed!

And PS for part one of the other Bossy side of Two Bossy Virgins please see Monday’s post.

Barbara: No, Deb couldn’t have oversold this concert as this was a concert for the ages. No wonder half of Toronto came out to see him (clogging every road around the arena, and driving those parking prices to insane heights). We talked a bit the other day in the comment’s section about how seeing music live is an experience all to itself. Especially when it is performed well. And especially when it is the kind of music born to be played live. Bruce’s brand of rock n’ roll is just that. Honest, gritty, raw, true. Thank you, Deb and patron saint of concert tickets: you gave me a night I will never forget. Thank you, Bruce, you inspired me and delighted me. By listening to your heart, I was able to hear my own.

Imaginary Friends

Barbara: I have an imaginary friend. Let’s call her Jess. Jess is around my age, well, a bit younger, has 3 beautiful kids, has the same concerns and struggles that I have (or have had), gives me food for thought and listens in earnest. She is gorgeous and sweet, I love her sense of style (look to it, in fact, for fresh ideas) and her gentle sense of humour, and when we chat briefly on the sidewalk outside her home or mine, we keep re-discovering just how much we have in common. In my imagination, she is my perfect friend.

Yes, okay—Jess is real. She actually does live around the corner from me. From time to time, we run into each other and, every time, we immediately fall into relaxed and natural and authentic communication. When we have to part ways, we always make promises to get together “properly”, to have tea or lunch or a walk. But we never do. Life gets in the way, I guess, of a real, manifest relationship.

I’ve had a handful of these imaginary friendships throughout my life. People who arrive out of the blue and immediately connect like soul mates or soul sisters—I am certain these are the “real deals”, the keepers, the friends for life—but then they recede into the imaginary miasma, traces of their amazingness still sitting on my tongue. Not keepers in the end, but wonderful portraits of potential.

So what happens? Yes, life gets in the way. There’s also the problem—for me as a social creature in my middle age—that there aren’t enough hours (even minutes) in the days for the wonderful, enduring friendships I already have. There’s always the potential for subtle pervasions of guilt to bubble up inside me about the time I’m not spending nurturing this old friendship or that new one. The other reality is that friendship really needs two people to nurture it: two people to commit to that coffee or lunch or walk and then see it through. And then the coffee/walk/lunch after that and the one after that and so on until the rhythm has been established and those “breaks for real life” don’t really interfere with your connections when you see each other.

But still it’s interesting, isn’t it?—these imaginary friendships and the coulda/wouldas that go with them. I do sometimes picture that coffee-date or that extended weekend at a cottage, just bonding and reveling in this person’s loveliness. But that’s as far as it goes, it seems.

So many alternate universes circling around me with relationships and experiences I just can’t seem to pack into this particular sphere.

I still believe every single time Jess and I see each other that one day, one surprising afternoon, we will follow through with our imaginary plans and take that lunch, and a beautiful thing will find its footing. Maybe imaginary friendships, or snatched moments, or the beauty of possibility are still better than no friendship at all.

Deb: Barbara, I was just thinking that your having written this blog-post may be just the inspiration you need to turn your imaginary friend into a fully fleshed-out relationship. The timing of this is so interesting for me. I had a lovely surprising encounter last week at the place where I get my nails done. I love, as you know, to strike up conversations with strangers. This gal and I got to chatting and, honest to Pete, we started connecting and bonding and relating. It was so sweet and unexpected. It was so real and substantial. When she was getting up to leave she looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes and said, “I am so glad I met you today,” and I told her that I felt the same way and that I thought there was a reason for it. She said, “I’m sorry but I hope you don’t mind if I hug you and kiss your cheek,” and she did and I hugged her back and it was actually tough to say goodbye to her. I said something like, “I know we will meet again and I hope we do.” But why didn’t we exchange numbers, email, anything? Is it because neither of us wanted to be presumptuous? Is it because there were other people around us and we didn’t want to look foolish? I don’t know the answer, but I do hope I meet her again and, if I do, I am going to take it as a sign. 

Red Riding Hoods

Barbara: Yesterday, Deb and I fell in love. He’s a sexy beast, tall, rugged, soulful eyes. But he’s not afraid to show his soft side too: he loves to give warm kisses and lay his head on your shoulder. We won’t even mention here that his kisses are tinged with green and he sometimes shakes his head in a particularly goofy way when he gets nervous, gums all flapping and nostrils flaring (that only happened when he first met us, before he understood on a visceral level that we were meant to be the best of friends).

Our new boy-crush is none other than the tall, dark, and handsome Red.

Red!

We had the great privilege of meeting and communing with Red thanks to the lovely, kind, and sincerely sweet Mary-Jo—who you’ll know from our comments section here. Jo lives not far from us and invited us on a very special excursion to meet her new horse. She picked us up at Deb’s house, then drove us the half-hour or so to the stables where Red lives and where she visits him on a daily basis.

Mary-Jo!

The stables? Okay, more elegant and certainly cleaner than my house!! Yeah, they are that good. Jo explained to us that she met her own personal “horse whisperer” many years ago and now follows her to whichever stable she is at. I think Jo has the best of all worlds at this place. And Red too.

The stables!

He is loved here and gently guided and nurtured. For some reason, he won’t budge for many riders. But he and Jo clicked at first sight back in December of this year. You’ll see in these videos how literally “unmoved” he was with Deb and I. In fact, if you look closely, you’ll see his eyes going all soft and sleepy—like he’s enjoying a good nap while we beg and coax.

Jo was a bit embarrassed by her horse’s, um, lack of performance, but she needn’t have worried. We were in his thrall. He impressed us with his light feet and agile gait while Jo took him around the paddock. His hair is glossy, his features fine and elegant. The fact that he only wanted to nuzzle us and look deep into our eyes was icing on the cake.

Afterward, Jo took us to this adorable little café in the woods where we ate a truly delicious meal and enjoyed the clean air. While Red may have been the star in our little get-together, make no mistake, we fell in love with Jo too. As dear and sincere in real life as she is here in our virtual neighbourhood, we were thrilled to get to know her better, share stories, and relax in her lovely, loving presence.

Lunch!

Friends!

Deb: Red is my new boyfriend. I love him and I think he knows it. Wow you guys, what a lovely day we had. He is such a soulful beast and Jo is the most engaging and laidback gal. I had known her previously in a few social settings so it was lovely to see the very core of her on this day. It was one of those days that you know you are going to do again. It really made me wish I had continued my early 10-year-old horseback riding lessons. I had a really traumatic experience and it frightened me from riding. Not from horses, but from riding. But Red, sensing my need to—if you will excuse me for this—get back on the horse ... made me want to. 

How We Celebrated International Women’s Day

Deb and Laurel

Barbara: Because we love and honour you women so much, of course we had to acknowledge this most important day: International Women’s Day. Yesterday morning, Deb was invited to speak at a breakfast hosted by Ontario MPP, Laurel Broten (a smashingly lovely, articulate, and sincere politician). I accompanied Deb—to my great delight. Because Deb is a damn good speaker. As you can imagine, she is charming and funny and insightful and compassionate.

She used this chance to speak from the heart about what being a woman means to her. She asked me if her speech was too long to publish to the blog—and I answered, as we often do, that people can read as much or as little as they choose. But I can’t imagine anyone choosing to skim it (although you can skim the (unexpected) parts about me ;) ); Deb’s speech is fantastic. Of course I am always aware of how amazing Deb is, but she still manages to surprise me and take it to a whole other level. She makes me so so proud. So here is Deb’s Women’s Day speech in all its unadulterated glory!

Deb: In honour of International Woman’s Day, I want to talk about the joy of the female presence in my life. I say “female presence” not only because of the women in my life, but because I am blessed to have in my family two men who are very much in touch with their feminine side. I am married to actor Colin Mochrie and we have one beautiful 21-year-old boy, Luke. Colin, for his part, cries like a girl during So You Think You Can Dance. It is sweet—and yes, I got his permission to share that. 

When we had a boy, we thought, “Okay, here we go, hockey, baseball, soccer. But the boy had other plans. Ballet, jazz, musicals, modern art. When he was around ten, he decided to add a game to family game nights. He called it: Luke Goes on a Date. I would play his “date” and my husband would be relegated to play bus driver, chauffeur, waiter, cab driver, and that ilk.  He had to reconcile himself to being a “special business extra” in our son’s dating life. So we would play the game and Luke would take his part very seriously, as would I (Oedipal implications aside).

At the end of playing our very first time, our son broke down in tears. We were shocked, especially Colin who felt that he had particularly excelled at the role of the valet guy. We asked the boy what was wrong. God bless him, through tears he said, “It’s just that, some day, some day it’s going to be real!”

One day when playing the date game, he stopped in his tracks as we fake-walked into a restaurant, “Mom what do I do about the door. Should I open the door for my date? Will she like it; will she be upset?” And I said, “Luke, here are the three stages of opening the door in a woman’s life. In her teens she will think it is sweet and romantic because she is all squishy about the prospect of love and romance. In her college years she will reel on you. ‘Why the hell are you opening the door for me for? Am I helpless, am I an idiot? Do I not know how the damn handle works?!’ In her middle years, she will be comfortable with her equal role to men and be grateful for the thoughtful gesture, secure in the fact that masculine and feminine have nothing to do with equality.” He soaked it all up like a sponge and, although he is only going on 22, he has had a great relationship with a beautiful young woman for three lovely years. I’d like to think I had something to do with that. Me and his cab-driving dad.

I am a lucky woman, my friends tell me, as my husband does all the cooking, grocery shopping, and laundry. I know what you’re thinking: What the hell do you do? I think my son said it best when asked to describe what his parents did for an essay at the age of 6. After listing Colin’s jobs for two long pages, he finished with: “Mommy lights the candles and pours the wine.” He was exaggerating a little, of course. I now use battery candles that are on timers, leaving me extra time to allow the wine to breath.

But in my defense, my husband LOVES to cook. It is his hobby and his joy. And he does the shopping because he does the cooking. He does it alone because he says, and I quote, “You just slow me down.” And he does laundry because—given the vastness of my wardrobe—I need only do laundry twice a year, during summer and winter solstice. My husband on the other hand has enough socks and underwear to last exactly two weeks. That is the way he likes it—and who am I to argue if a few of my items get cleaned in the mix. I am just that kind of collaborating partner.

And believe me, I do plenty. Believe you me. I know it sounds like I doth protest too much and I admit that my list would sound lame if I spouted it off, but I do what every other woman I know does, I keep our family afloat; I keep all the cogs greased and turning; I keep all the balls in the air. Okay I know that sounds like I am generalizing because I have no real list, but it’s not. All I know is, I never sit down. You are going to have to trust me on that.

So, branching out from the TESTROGEN in my house (just invented that word), I am surrounded by a wealth of wonderful women. I have tons of dear friends, some that I have had from the age of five whose relationships I still cultivate. But I have also come to friendships later in life that surprised the heck out of me. One such relationship is my guest here today. My wonderful and charming friend and writing partner, Barbara Radecki. We have collaborated on TV scripts, movies, and the project closest to our hearts: our blog, The Middle Ages. When I met Barbara in 2001 doing a film together I was instantly struck by her charm, gentle manner, energy and haunting beauty. But I had no interest in pursuing a friendship with her—and not because she was a shade taller than me (6 inches) and a tad prettier (waayyyy prettier). You know how it is when the friend roster is packed to capacity and you barely have enough time for the friends you currently have? Well, that was the case here. 

Barbara and I had started shooting a film called Expecting on the unfortunate start date of 9/11 and the day after, Barb went to her local mall to get some school stuff for her girls. The short story is that as she sat in the parking lot chatting with her husband on the phone who was in Windsor on business and she suddenly found herself the target of an attempted carjacking. Suddenly she was kicking and screaming as she fought off her aggressor, a man wearing a scarf around his face demanding the car. She kicked his ass from here to there. The next day I asked her how she did it? Wasn’t she scared? How could she kick and scream and win? She simply said, “After 9/11, I was not going to be a victim.” And I thought, “DAMN, gotta make room for this one in my life. Gotta. That girl is the whole package and I need this special gal in my life!”

I think woman are stupendous creatures and not just the stuff of the online poems and platitudes that I get in my inbox every day. Now, make no mistake, I am not casting aspersions at the Irma Bombeckian bombardment. On the contrary, I love Irma. She was one of the great broads. But I will warn you. If you send me one of these, I tell you in advance that I will not be forwarding them to 5 fabulous women I know and sitting by the computer to see if I get five back. Apparently getting five back in the yard stick by which my worth as a fabulous woman is measured. My reasons are this: I am secure enough at this stage of my life to know that I am fabulous and insecure enough to sit waiting all day, staring at my inbox, obsessing over how many I am getting back or not.

Because of our blog, The Middle Ages, I am now lucky enough to also be warmly surrounded by women from all over world. These women come in the form of teenagers and grandmothers, and everything in between, with every point of view imaginable. My world of woman is branching out thanks to our blog. Oh, and if you are thinking of joining the party, keep in mind that typing “blogspot” is imperative after “The Middle Ages”, unless of course you are interested in medieval forms of torture and tales of scurvy and the plague.

Because of all my women, young and old, far and wide, family and friend, with their voices secure in my heart and in my everyday life, I really don’t need the little daily reminders of what women are. I know what women are, as I have seen the stuff of which they are made every day throughout my life.

The women in my life are the people who drop off coolers of food to my 85-year-old parents to lessen their load. They arrive at my doorstep when they know I need a face-to-face and can’t ask. They sit at deathbeds ushering a fellow human out of this life when others can’t take it. They plant gardens and send flowers. They keep the family traditions going year after year. They emphasize the beauty in this world when it is threatened by the bad. They keep their relationship conversations going in good times and bad and refuse to be silent and let issues slide. They stand up for other women. They do not paint all men with a single brush. They judge each human as a human first. And yes platitudes abound as we laugh till we pee while we eat chocolate and watch An Affair to Remember. Thank God there are plenty of those good times. But when times are bad, these women are the people I turn around and see in front of me. They are the one’s asking, “What can I do?”

Annette!

Deb: When I was living in L.A. twenty years ago, I wrote some spec scripts. For those of you who might not know, a spec script is a script you write for an existing, current show to try and secure a writing job or agent. One of my scripts was for Seinfeld. My Seinfeld episode had Jerry falling in love, a true love, which he had never done on the show. She was a gal in the tourism industry and she was funny. Very funny. A natural wit. Jerry was smitten by her beauty, wit, and charm, and especially by the fact that she was not in the entertainment field and had no interest in it at all. In the end, despite his love for her, his male comic’s ego could no longer stand the fact that everyone, including him, thought that his girlfriend Annette was funnier than him. He ended it, broken-hearted, but secure in the knowledge that he would return to his rightful place in the group as “the funniest”.

This character was based on my dear friend Annette with whom Barb and I had a three-way last year. Okay, just read that sentence and thought, “Wow, if anyone is reading our blog for the first time, they are GOING TO BE BACK BABY!”

Digression aside, I must tell you that Annette is quite simply the wittiest woman I know, and trust me, I know plenty of witty gals. She is a brilliant writer and the stuff she posts on Facebook is simply hilarious. Sometimes I only have time to “like” and sometimes I leave a comment.  This fall and Christmas season I was not on FB as regularly, so the other day I sat with a cup of tea and opened her FB page and read for hours. What a delightful time it was.

Barbara: As Annette’s brilliance is what we want to feature today, I’ll just pop my head in here and add, Yeah, the woman’s a genius. So funny you wish she had, like, a TV show or a regular column in the paper or a webisode series or … I don’t know … maybe her own BLOG!!! And she is so sweet, she’ll probably be all shades of red just reading this. Annette, come out, come out, wherever you are!

Deb: The following is a very small example from FB of the one, the only, The Wit: Annette.

*Ran my first 5K this morning... Just kidding.... I'm on my second muffin...

*Why does using a straw make it so much harder to accept there's no more soda?

*I'm sorry, previews, but raving "Best Movie of the Year" means nothing to me on January 20th.

*Have finally come up with suitable epitaph for me for when the sad day comes... "She died doing what she loved... judging strangers on the internet."

*Ever notice how you never meet anyone who's quietly on a juice diet? And while we are sorta on the subject, horses are vegans too but you don't hear them neighing on and on about it...

*Jury duty... The sobering reminder that one day your life could be in the hands of a guy wearing Velcro shoes.

*Given what a perennial distraction it proves, I'd delete my Facebook account, but there's some shaky marriages I'm keeping an eye on.

*So you're feeling a tad scared and anxious because it's Friday the 13th? Well here’s my sympathetic take on that… If there's only one day a year when you wake up irrationally afraid, you're doing okay, my friend!

*I'm currently standing in the 10 items or less line, holding 14 items, freaking the h*ll out.

*If I learned I only had a week to live and could go anywhere in the world, I think I'd go to the hospital... because that sounds pretty serious!

*The only thing that would make my morning more productive is actually doing something! It's not looking hopeful mind you but it's good to have a plan...

*Looks like I’m going to have to abandon my New Year's Resolution to only say nice things about people... Just isn't working as in my case it was the equivalent of a vow of silence.

*Snowflakes as far as the eye can see... all identical!

*The Slippery Slope of New Years Resolutions: January 1st: Resolve to go to the gym every day. January 2nd: Feel guilty for not going. January 3rd: Pie for breakfast!

*My new years resolution for 2012? I will be less laz

*I've never had personalized license plates... but don't worry, I still know how to waste most of my discretionary income! IAMGR8 has nothing on me!

*Some think the economy is slowly recovering. Others think it's on the verge of collapse. I think about shoes mostly...

*I just want people to accept me for who I pretend to be!

*Just caught the news that Anthony Weiner is now a dad. Wife, Huma Abedin, gave birth to a baby boy, Jordan Zane Weiner. Naturally, The New York Post welcomed Jordan Zane into the world in it's inimitable way with a front page headline reading, "A Little Weiner", "Baby boy for Huma and louse." Hope mom's not a scrapbooker!

*It's intriguing to see how much worse celebrities looked "before they were famous" until that painful moment that you realize that's how you look now!

26 December 2011

*Almost a full year away and all the stores have their Christmas stuff up already. Just staggering...

*What an incredible Christmas Eve...We had so much fun pretending that the scratching sound from our attic was reindeer and stuff...

*"I am Santa Claus." "No you're not." "Yes I am." "OK." - Miracle on 34th Street in tweet form. And that's all she wrote folks... It's into the car we go... Happy Holidays!

*The best 5 seconds of my life are when I wake up and have no idea I'm a human or have responsibilities.

*It's cute when they put expiration dates on snacks like I won't eat them as soon as I get to my car.

*Out of all of Santa's reindeer, the one that sounds most like a street name for crystal meth is all of them.

*And I? Well I took the road less traveled by, and now my GPS won't stop recalculating...

*The best thing about telepathy is... I know, right?

*I'd put money on it that now that it's been a few years, she's "The Girl Who Really Regrets Getting That Dragon Tattoo."

*How annoying is it when you're about to take a great photo and somebody calls your camera.

*During this season of giving... remember every day is a gift... though many are filled with non-returnable things you didn't ask for and don't want!

*A little primer that may serve you at this party-centric time of the year... Stages of inebriation: Sociable, fun, hilarious, inappropriate, bitter, sad, need new pants, need new friends!

*If the old adage about "opposites attract" is true, I probably should have looked for someone who gets up early and does stuff...

*Thought process of the guy who invented eggnog: "Man, I could really go for a tall, cold, glass of eggs right now."

*"How about a month of non-stop obligations, budget-busting overspending, less-than-desirable travel conditions, very short, dark days and bitter weather?" - The pitch for the month of December.

*Great job keeping crap out of my eye... eyelash that's currently in said eye.

*Would it not make more sense to dump Gatorade on the losing head coach?

*...It’s Chinese New Year and I’m still writing Rabbit on all my checks... Don’t you hate that? 

Trim A Tree With Friends

Deb: Over this year and a half that Barb and I have been doing our blog, I have come to see those of you who read us as more than bloggers, writers, followers of the blog.

Through all the turbulence and joy of the last year, you have become so much more. You have stood with us in many ways. You have been advisors, shoulders, supporters and friends.

And it is in that spirit that we would like to have a small piece of your hearts in our homes for Christmas, and as the Old Year becomes New.

Colin and I have a little tree that lives in our bedroom at Christmas. Each year I decorate it with colourful glass birds of every description. This year I would like to decorate it with you and your thoughts and wishes. Not just wishes for me or for my family, although we will accept with grateful thanks, but anything you care to say.

In essence, it can be anything your heart desires. It can be a word, a phrase, a quote, a prayer, a hope for the planet, for her people, for each other or for yourselves. It can be funny, silly, irreverent, heartfelt, or whatever comes to mind. Basically, the sky is the limit.

I will print each one out, place it on a Christmas tag and tie it on our little tree. Barb will do the same with the wreath that adorns her front door. Just before Christmas we will post photos of said boughs brimming with ... you!

This unique, talented, exciting group of people should be together for the holidays in some form. This might bring us a little closer to that...

Blogger Dream Come True!!

Barbara: Some of you have been waiting for our huge bloggie news, some of you have even been trying to guess what it might be. But none of you guessed that our next unexpected miracle is that Deb and I have been offered a trip to Costa Rica!!!!

Yes, it’s true—and we can’t quite believe it.

Our classy gift announcement

The gist of it is that the Costa Rica Tourism Board is giving away $1,000,000 worth of Gifts of Happiness and they chose us to be recipients of one of these happy gifts! Apparently they combed the internet, Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and news outlets, looking for kindred spirits who embraced their belief in the Pura Vida—or “everything good in life”—and, can I say it again?—they chose US!! It turns out we’re considered “influential bloggers”—thank you, Costa Rica Tourism Board: after raising two teens, it’s nice to discover someone out there thinks of me as “influential”. Not sure how “influential” all of you would consider me to be, but what I can wholeheartedly say is that I—we—absolutely believe in the concept of a Pura Vida! It is what’s kept me going through all kinds of personal ups and downs.

Beautiful gift announcement carved into sustainable wood

Some of you may remember from an early sidebar post (on our now-defunct Side of Slaw page) that Phil and I took our daughters to Costa Rica several years ago. That post was an embarrassed revelation of my inability to keep a secret (we may post it again here in the weeks to come), but the bottom line is, the trip was a dream holiday. The Costa Rican people are unbelievably kind and welcoming, the landscape is diverse and breathtaking, and the wildlife amazing. Who wouldn’t want to go there?!

And just to be clear, the Costa Rica Tourism Board is asking nothing of us except to blog about our experience. They aren’t setting up any parameters or rules, and anything we post here is of our own volition. But I can honestly say I am proud to have a chance to promote their country. And I really look forward to bringing you all a daily diary of our trip—much as we’ve done in the past with London, Newfoundland, Antigua, and Jamaica.

So, yes, we are going! Even though we’re still trying to believe this is even true. And we want to thank all of you from the bottom of our hearts. Without all of you here as part of our daily conversation, without your input, responses, dedicated reading, heartfelt thoughts, support, advice, generosity of spirit, this would never have happened. Without you, we would be nothing here at The Middle Ages. Each and every one of you keeps us going, and all of you have now helped send us to Costa Rica! Thank you thank you thank you.

And that’s not all, there is a super-easy way for all of you to enter to win too. If you go to their Facebook page, all you have to do is “like” it (again, we have not been asked to say any of this!), and you could win the exact holiday we’re going on. They’re giving away hundreds of trips, so the odds are pretty good. If you click on Terms and Conditions at the bottom of the page, the file outlines the five choices of holiday that we’ve been offered. Guess which package we chose—and next week, we’ll reveal it! Maybe we’ll see you in the rainforest, loves!

Deb: AND what makes it even sweeter is that our husbands get to join us. Given the generosity of the gift, we did not dare ask if we could have two stowaways, however charming and handsome. Upon further consideration, we realized that if we were being referred to (however loosely) as influential bloggers, we might try out that influence to see if we could bring our lovely husbands.

Turns out, we didn’t have to lower ourselves to beg. They were thrilled knowing that Colin would tweet about the trip too. Add to that Phil’s skills as a photographer for our adventures—and the team was ready! In fact, Phil took the photos for the blog today. Turns out, he cares about good light and flattering backgrounds and the like! So ... he’s our man!!!

As happy as we look here, our smiles don't come close to expressing our giddy excitement!

The four of us sat down to read and discuss the various packages we were offered. We carefully read each package, googling hotels and weighing each tour vs. free time and wealth of experience. Well, actually, to say Colin read his tour package would be a gross exaggeration. His reading went something like this: “Nice beaches, nice hotels, good food, rainforest, animals and wine.” But in the end—as hard as it was—we collectively chose one of the packages, details next week!

Cannot wait to share the trip with each other and with you guys. Let the fun begin. “Thank you, Costa Rica Tourism” just doesn’t seem enough! So we will fill out our grateful praise when we get there.

Last one there is the three-toed Sloth! 

London Diary, Day Eight: London Walks, Royal Weddings

Deb: Started this fine day in London with our good friends, Anna and Steve. They are friends we see very infrequently but with whom we have a substantial bond. We had a lovely lunch at a beautiful and very old London restaurant called The Wolseley, which used to be a luxury car showroom in the early 1920’s. They treated. That should be noted!

We then set off on our Royal Wedding walkabout. The men came in support of their own marriages and for no other reason. Although I did ask my husband if he enjoyed it and he said, “You know ... I was outside ... and it was a nice day.” Stellar reviews indeed!

The first piece of info we got was that the Will and Kate’s first dance was to “Your Song.” They then did a little dance to “You’re the One That I Want” from Grease, which I thought was great fun.

We started off heading down the Queen’s Walk in Green Park where our guide told us the most interesting story of how Green Park got its name. It turns out that Charles II was picking flowers in the park for his mistress and was caught doing so by his Queen who became so irate that she banished flowers from the park. From that day on they have not planted one single flower––hence the name, Green Park. Hell hath no fury like a Queen scorned. Actually, flowers do appear there but only of the “wild” variety.

One of my fave fun facts on today’s tour was that the guests of the royal wedding each received a 22-page instruction manual to prepare them for the whole royal affair. Kate herself was allowed only 100 personal guests from the almost 2000 in attendance. The other interesting fact was that William has earned the highest university degree in history for a future monarch. Kate, of course, earned as high a degree, but clearly does not count at this point as she will not be a crowned Queen. Although I still feel it deserves a “Well Done, Kate!”

Here was one of my favourite facts on today’s tour. King Henry VIII had it written into the wedding vows of all his brides (with or without heads) that they must pledge to “be buxom and bawdy in bed”. Ahhh, how I long for the good old days when women were held in the highest esteem!

We also learned that the origin of the wedding veil came about as a trick of the father of the maybe not so attractive bride, ensuring that the wedding would be made legal before a royal groom would have the chance to see his bride and possibly say, “What the?”

We also learned that Queen Victoria invented the white wedding gown. Up until then, the general public would get married in their Sunday best and the royals in silver. But she was so much in love with her groom that she wanted to use some wonderful white lace she had, and the modern wedding dress was born. Sadly she spent more time of her life in her mourning blacks, so distraught was she over the early death of her beloved Albert.

The day embodied the true love and tragic love of the royals and their marriages. But the prevailing message was and is that no good ever came of the arranged marriage idea. Any time a royal was forced to marry, as in Charles and Diana, it came to a tragic end. We must follow our hearts and hopefully this marriage will send that new message, along with the change in succession. Soon it will be law that the first born of any gender will be the next monarch. This is the wish of the royal family to move with the times and the queen has pushed hard for this change to come about.

We ended the day with our dear friend Steve and his lovely son Ian who we met for the first time tonight. We went together to the BBC and saw a radio taping for BBC Four. The taping was the third in a four part series of the stand up comedian Richard Herring and it was first rate. Tired. Going to bed to dream of Peter and Wendy. I may leave the window open tonight. xo

London Diary, Day Seven: This Time It's Personal

Deb: I have a dear friend whom I have known since 1990 when I started with the Second City in Toronto. She was the producer of the theatre and therefore my boss, but we have over the years developed a wonderful friendship of love and trust. It was a road fraught with construction signs and detours given the status issues we needed to overcome, but we came to it, as humans often do, through adversity and the bond of something more.

The “more” was our struggle to become mothers. We wanted it so badly and we were united in the fact that we knew that neither of us could be truly happy until that happened. And it did. For her twice, and for me, once. We celebrated the birth of our babies knowing all too well that it could easily not have happened for either of us.

Today in London I was lucky enough to spend a full day with her eldest, the lovely Kaitlyn. Just a few years older than the boy, she works here doing a fabulous job that will help make her resume sing! The best part is, she loves both the job and London. We certainly share that view and we yakked about our London Love all the way in the cab like we were mooning over the latest boy band.

Our time together today was as the English say––brilliant. She came to a taping of Colin’s show  “Our Life In Your Hands” and said what any dutiful young woman would say, “Colin is the best.” Bless her wise little heart. I will not question Kaitlyn’s taste as she has clearly developed into a sage young woman!!!!

After the taping, she and I were off to a wonderful Indian restaurant for dinner. Colin had a second show to do but we blew it off in the name of hunger and thirst. We arrived at the restaurant. Let’s just say we talked. And talked. And laughed. And talked.

I remember her as a tot, toddler, young girl and lady, but tonight I had dinner with the woman. She is poised, charming, warm and is  perched on the brink of her very exciting life. Living it and dreaming it, all at the same time. I am happy and proud for her and I am so proud of my friend for what she and her husband have wrought.

I did not know what to expect. I wondered if we would be awkward given our history. I worried that it would be all question and answer by rote given the difference in our ages. But it was fun and I learned about her and from her. I hope she felt the same. I did not dare think it would be this lovely.

In the end it reminded me that each generation is exactly the same. We are thankful to our parents and the gifts that they give, and then we move on to make our own mark, our own mistakes. Afterwards we must stand alone to cheer our own triumphs. She and I talked about the fact that, although we all know we will turn into our parents, as we get older we lament it less and less. In fact sometimes we want it!  Wise words from a twenty-something. She has the world at her feet, this girl. And it reminded me that we all do. No matter our age or station or stage in life, we all do.

Kaitlyn and I wanted a photo before saying goodnight. We stopped a passerby who not only offered to take it, but moved us to a better light to try and make it nice for us. As he walked away, Kaitlyn said, "That's London!" Yep, it is!

This was a special night for me. Kaitlyn said to me as we hugged goodbye, “I needed to be Mothered tonight”. I am glad I could give her an eye-drop of mothering on behalf of my dear friend Sally who loves and misses her girl from across the pond. I will never forget this sweet little night. I hope Kaitlyn doesn’t either. 

That Old Gang Of Mine

Deb: “And the last to go will see the first three go before her.”

So said the Wicked Witch to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

This was always the most terrifying part of the movie and, even as a young child, I got it.

Dorothy’s impending death wasn’t as horrifying to her as the thought of watching the death of her friends. That would be the real torture.

Deb's gorgeous parents

My Mom and Dad just lost their last dear lifelong friend. The last of their gang. The last of the dear friends who were around to hold my brother and I in their arms when we were born.

My own pain around Stan’s death was deep enough, but it was watching Mom and Dad that really broke my heart.

Stan was 89, looked 70, and was projected to outlive us all. He was a true gentleman in the truest sense of the word. A kind, warm, engaging, spirited thoughtful man who never had a bad word to say about anyone.  He looked like Dean Martin and stood a handsome 6’4”.

When I posted his death on Facebook, I said, “Stan George, 1922 to 2011, and yet not long enough.”

I know it sounds odd to be shocked at the death of an 89-year-old man, but we were. Because Stan had found the secret to life and the evidence of it showed in his every gesture.

My parents loved this man so much. Even the mention of Stan could bring a smile to their faces. They would light up, just at the thought of seeing him. He never disappointed either. It’s not easy to live up to your hype as any actor knows, but Stan surpassed his.

And now he’s gone. They are all gone, that old gang of my parents. And Mom and Dad are alone. They of course have their family, close and extended, all of whom they love and every one they are grateful for. 

But the gang is gone. 

A while back Dad said they were thinking of having some friends in for a wine and cheese evening. Dad was having a good week physically and they thought it would be fun to host a small gathering. Suddenly they looked at each other, saw the irony, and started to laugh. Not certainly at the fact that there was no one left to invite, but at the fact that this had somehow caught them by surprise.

Can you imagine this?  A time of your life when your friends are gone. All gone? I would not even try as the thought is unbearable.

But there my parents sit, engulfed in memories of skating parties and New Years parties and swimming parties and precious phone calls filled with laughter.

I remember each and every one of their old gang. They are right there in my mind’s eye as I watch from my pajama-ed perch on the stairs, my Mom and Dad and their group of dear friends, dressed to the nines, laughing and dancing the night away in the unfinished basement in our home.

Barbara: Oh, Deb, I’m so sorry for your loss and that of your parents. It’s amazing how powerful those memories are, those of our parents reveling and enjoying their dear friends. Why do all children gravitate toward that energy like moths to flame? Is there one among us who doesn’t remember some form of late night eavesdropping, listening intently to gales of laughter and clinking of glasses, quintessential music counterpointing every beat and rhythm of their celebration?

I am loathe indeed to contemplate all my friends being gone one day. Thanks god for these glorious days. I do not take them for granted!!

Love to all, xo