The importance of higher education

Growing up poor, Dad didn't have the opportunity to go to school past a certain age. His father had died when he was only 3, and pretty much everyone in the family had to work. We used to hear stories about how when he was in school as a young boy, the American soldiers would hand out chocolate milk at lunch to the kids. Then later, we heard how he would take the animals up into the mountains and he would sleep in trees. Our education was very important to him, which leads me right into my next dad-ism.

Dad-ism of the day: God help you if you EVER EVER complained about having to go to school, or whined about how you didn't want to go. This would spark Dad off and his lecture always started with the same words:

What! You wanna be a dummy for the rest of your life!??!!

At the end of the lecture, you were sufficiently chastised, realizing that your education was super important and you were ungrateful for not using the opportunity. I can't remember what he used to say for the rest of the lecture, but my sisters and I ALWAYS remembered the opening line.

Do as I say, not as I do!

When we used to go to Greece as kids, we loved going down to the river. Just a short walk from Grandma's house, it was great. No matter how hot it was, the river was nice and cold. Freida used to go down there every day and get drinking water from the small spout (that's me standing next to it in the background). But no matter how often we played down there, we were NEVER, EVER allowed to walk across the river on the big log. NEVER. And SHAME on you for even CONSIDERING IT! But dad would sashay back and forth across it all the time! We were so jealous! Sometimes, I remember he would stand on it, as we watched him from the balcony at Grandma's and he would thumb his nose at us!

Dad-ism of the Day: Dad was told by his doctor not to have spicy, salty or fatty foods. I caught him once making a german salami sandwhich (with Peppercorns!) with thick slabs of velveeta cheese and a heavy helping of Dijonaise. When I confronted him his response was: "Don't eat this, don't eat that. . . May as well lay down and die."

And he took his sandwhich and left the kitchen.

A Week of Dad!

In order to commemorate the 1 year anniversary of my dad's death, and to celebrate his life, I bring you A Week of Dad!

Born in Greece, Dad moved to Canada in 1965. He only knew one word "Eggs" and he ate them for breakfast all the time, since he couldn't order anything else. He had his first meal at the Homestead restaurant, which he ended up buying.

It's pretty funny that a man who NEVER surfed the internet, never had an email address, didn't even know what Google was, is now posted on a blog for anyone to see. In fact, when I lived in Vancouver, my mum used to chat with me on MSN, and she tried to show it to my dad once, and he was pretty unimpressed, from what I hear, asking how she knew it was really me.

'Dad'ism of the Day: If you don't have at least $5.00 on you, the police can and will arrest you for vagrancy. Hence you must always have some "Walking around Money" in your wallet.

MONDAYS

If I had a look that expressed how I felt about Mondays it would be like Portia's face in the above photo.

• My coolant light came on again
• I overslept by THREE HOURS
• I had to park 3 blocks from work
• I couldn't find the missing docs
• I forgot my massage therapy appointment
• I didn't bring a lunch

Sigh.

Did it Self!
When my nephew was younger, if he wanted to do something on his own, instead of having help, he would proclaim "do it self!!" very loudly.


Well I'm proud to say that about my garden gate! Did it self!


Dad made me a fence for my garden, as Portia likes to eat plants, flowers, grass, weeds, plant food. . . you know. But he never put the gate up. Dad was really good at starting projects, but sometimes lacked the follow thru needed to fully complete a project. Especially the tiny finishing details.

And a year passed. And another.

And then Dad got sick. And then he passed away. . . .


So, I told myself it was time to do it self! I could install a garden gate! I found a half open bag of hardware in the garage! I have a math degree for crying out loud!


But I couldn't make the pieces fit. And neither could mum. So I took a picture of my gate, and my bag of hardware and went to the home depot! Turns out, I was missing pieces, and the gentleman there showed me what the finished product should look like!

So I went home and put it up! I was so proud of myself, I could have burst! I called my mum all giddy, "I did it! I put the gate up!"


Heck, it's been two weeks, and I'm still proud! I pull the curtain up on the window everyday and look at!

Portia, No!

She did it again. She went ape-shit and attacked Rocky over the broken crumbs of some dog cookie. It's like she's back in the wild and if she doesn't get that crumb, she will starve to death, on the spot, and keel over.
Jenge tried to grab her and failed. I am generally the muscle in this situation as a) I have no fear of getting in the midst of a fight (sorry, mum, don't want to worry you, but it's true) and b) I will grab whatever part of a dog I can and pull it to break the fight up, while walking away with said part of a dog clutched in my grasp. Jenge always tries to go for the collar or the waist. I do not waste time trying to get such a grip. I've learned you can pull a 50lb malamute off a 22lb sheltie as long as you have part of an ear and a tail. And a tail is usually all you can grab. And then she gets put in her kennel for an hour and ignored (as instructed by my vet who said "Be decisive!! Be in control! And don't fall for crying!!" My lip quivered and I sniffed and said, "okay.")

Mum says I should find some nice place in the country for her, and that she's too big. But she's my baby and I love her!! She only goes ape-shit once every six months or so and just when you have forgotten the last time, she does it again.


Poor Rocky. He's been hiding in Jenge's room most of the night.

It's time to go back to the Dog Whisperer, Larry, and see what he has to say.

A Tale No One Would Believe. . .

So I was up late watching national geographic and they were doing this special on this aquarium in California. Beautiful, huge glass walls showcase marine life.
One of the things they talked about were the sea otters. And they showed them playfully cavorting in the bay. They also showed them rolling themselves in kelp so they can have their morning nap without drifting out to sea. . .
And then they started talking about how the sea otter, having previously bounced back from extinction, was now declining again. So they wanted to track them. They wanted to know how often they dove for food, how long were they staying under, and how deep did they have to go.
The only way to do this, apparently, was to implant them with a data mining device!
So, as the sea otter is happily rolling him self in preparation of his morning nap, divers are far beneath him, with special breath apparatus that recycles the air so they don't release bubbles. And then with jumbo sized nets, they scoop the otters up! Stuff them in a kennel! Drive them on a truck to the vets! Knock them out! Implant the device! And put them back in the ocean!

This got me thinking. Is this the sea otter equivalent of getting kidnapped by aliens? Imagine this conversation. . .
Sea Otter 1: I'm telling you! I was minding my own business and then outta no where, I was taken! stuffed in a box and put on some large machine! It moved over land as fast as we move in water! and there were bright lights! And strange sounds! and they put me on a steel table and I'm telling you, they put something in me!
Sea Otter 2: Sounds like someone had too much kelp last night.
Sea Otter 1: I have a scar! A scar to prove it!
Sea Otter 2: Bob, c'mon, you probably ran into a rock again like you did back in '95.
Sea Otter 1 (aka Bob): I can't eat! I can't sleep! I know they are coming back. . . .

Sadly, Bob is right as after a while, they must capture the same sea otter again and take the data mining device out so they can download the data. Poor Bob! Kidnapped by humans and no one believes him.