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These "Tale Spinner" episodes are brought to you courtesy of one of our Canadian friends, Jean Sansum. You can thank her by eMail at
Vol. XV No. 35
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I went to certified clinics at the hotels but street doctors are everywhere - as well as street barbers, dentists, tailors, etc.
I had seen the cup treatment, and did not like it the look of it, but let them try five of the smaller cups for a short period of time on my back, before getting back to the massage and reflexology treatments that I enjoyed.
To be continued.
ED. NOTE: Louise Kruithof is unexpectedly returning to Canada, and did not have time to write a story for us this week.
Bruce Galway forwarded a video about how little fresh produce for sale is grown in Canada. I was so impressed by it that I sent it to all the Canadian subscribers whom I could remember, and Bill McNair went one step further: he sent it on to his local politicians. And Verda Cook, who now lives in Kitchener, wrote:
I think back fondly to my younger years, living in a small village, where everyone had a garden in their backyard.
Granted, our lots were much larger than city lots of today. The gardens were large. People produced enough to provide for the entire winter. Fruit and vegetables were mostly canned, since freezers were not a common household item. The dairy in town had freezer lockers which could be rented but were used mainly by villagers to freeze and store meat.
Our diet was healthy. Fruit in season was canned. Oranges were not available in winter but were a special treat when found in a Christmas stocking or handed out as gifts at the local public school (1940s and 50s). Bananas were available for only a short period of time. I don´t recall eating grapefruit when I was young. We never saw kiwi or avacados or pomello. Corn-on-the-cob was not sold in winter, nor were strawberries. And yet we had our vitamin C all winter - provided by the abundance of apples. Rhubarb was canned, as were raspberries, strawberries, etc. There was a lot of fruit available for eating.
Everyone had a "cold room" in their basement where potatoes, carrots, and cabbage could be stored to take them through winter. As for vitamin D - everyone took cod liver oil during the winter months. Raisins were always available for children as snacks. There was no limit to the availability of milk, and it wasn´t shipped from the farm to some far-off producing plant and shipped back.
While I think fondly of those years of plenty that was fresh, I also think of the work involved. It would be impossible to re-live those years in today´s society. The amount of work involved in preparing for winter would be impossible for any woman who is working full time.
Today, "local" depends on where you live. It may be shipped 100 km or more and still be considered "local".
When we lived in the country, the township in which we lived fiercely protected the farmland. Laws were passed which prohibited farmers from severing even a small portion of their farms on which to build houses for retirement. Several legal battles were fought in court when regional governments wanted to jump the boundary and build commercial or industrial units within the township. Villages and towns had boundaries set and developers who had purchased land in anticipation of creating suburbs found themselves out of luck.
But not all municipalities were this farsighted. North of the city of Waterloo no such restrictions existed, and prime farmland was developed. Farmers north of that area formed a co-operative. Several times a week they hold an auction where stores may come and purchase local produce. This produce must be labeled as to where it was produced.
We need to be vigilant. Just because a label says "Product of Canada" does not mean it was produced in Canada. It might only have been packaged in Canada. Ask the store manager where that product was actually produced.
Fruits and vegetables are not "fresh" if they are picked before they are mature and shipped 200 kms or more to the store near you. Tomatoes, for instance, if picked before ripening on the vine, will have a tough skin and very little flavour although they are completely red. [ED. NOTE: I have stopped buying tomatoes because I have given up hope of ever finding any that have any taste at all.]
Yesterday I had to go to a town west of the city. Enroute I noticed some farm children selling corn, so I stopped and made a purchase. I had not planned to spend my evening freezing corn, but I know that corn fresh from the field tastes better than corn in frozen packages.
Our bank produces a brochure with a map indicating where farm fresh produce can be purchased. We make several forays into the country to purchase produce from these farmers. Our lifestyle has had to make a big adjustment since leaving our country property with a large garden and living in the city with a small balcony garden.
ED. NOTE: New Westminster has started a local farmers´ market on the city hall grounds every Thursday, and Vancouver and North Vancouver have permanent markets which carry locally-grown produce. I have no doubt that other cities are following their example.
After many years of living alone, it is a bit of a challenge to find that I must take into account the habits, desires, and personality of an other. No more uninterrupted sessions on the net (unless my favourite 1-888 numbers call and don´t get answered); no more hours spent reading a book; no more going shopping without worrying about hurrying back.
He just got out of prison after a year, and had a colourful and chequered past. I heard whispers of a crack house somewhere in his youth, but it does not seem to have have permanently affected him. He is pleasant and polite, and hardly ever complains.
Unfortunately, we do not speak the same language. Neither of us understands what the other is saying, though we both try. I talk a lot more than he does, and he looks intelligent but as if he hadn´t understood a word. He does sing occasionally.
My new companion is not white, but then, neither is he entirely black. Whatever, he is fastidious and always elegant, although I admit his whiskers are a little bit long. He is much younger than I, but when you get to my advanced age, what difference does a few years make? He doesn´t seem to mind.
He is fussy about his food and does not always appreciate what I set before him, but he doesn´t complain. He just walks away. After having given up cooking years ago, I now have to consider his tastes too.
He is inquisitive - he´s always opening doors to closets and cupboards to see what is in them. His nerves are not strong - he jumps when he hears unusual noises, though he ignores the sirens that scream through the night. And he is affectionate and quite aggressive in gaining my attention. He doesn´t appreciate the time I spend on the computer.
One of the hardest things to get used to is not having my bed to myself anymore. He´s not very large, but he does take up a lot of room. I hesitate to move around as much as usual for fear of disturbing him. As for making the bed while he is sitting on it - almost impossible.
He has not been with me very long, but I think we will adjust to each other´s presence and both benefit from the association. He just came to live with me last Thursday, and already acts as if he has come to stay.
I hope he will be happy with me, because that is his name: Happy. He´s a black and brown tabby cat, perhaps about five or six years old. I adopted him from the local animal shelter, after having sworn that I would look after him for eternity, and Jay drove us home. Happy promptly scooted under the bed and did not come back out until late that evening. I was told he is deathly afraid of adult males, so perhaps Jay´s being here added to his distress.
The first night, he jumped onto and off my bed a dozen times, and roamed around the apartment, crying. I did not get much sleep, and neither did he, but he spent the next day sleeping under the bed so he would be fresh for another night. He was not quite as restless the second night, and the next day, he came out about noon. Since then he has hardly sought refuge at all, though as I mentioned, he is easily spooked.
I was warned that he might go under the bed and stay there for a couple of weeks, so I think he is settling in better than could be expected. All I have to watch out for now is stepping back and falling over him; I don´t think he would be much use if I broke a leg.
Perhaps other readers have had experiences with adoption of pets they would like to write about. I´m sure there are many stories out there, and I invite you to tell us about them.
Bruce Galway sent these observations, and half of the list was published last week. Here are the rest of the
21. I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.
22. I can´t remember the last time I wasn´t at least kind of tired.
23. Bad decisions make good stories.
24. Is it just me, or do high school girls get sluttier and sluttier every year?
25. Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole roomful of people has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? I know my name, I know where I´m from - this shouldn´t be a problem....
26. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you´ve made up your mind that you just aren´t doing anything productive for the rest of the day.
27. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don´t want to have to restart my collection.
28. I´m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
29. I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There´s so much pressure. "I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren´t watching this. It´s only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?"
30. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What´d you do after I didn´t answer? Drop the phone and run away?
31. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
32. Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles.
33. Sometimes I´ll look down at my watch three consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
34. I keep some people´s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
35. Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn´t know what do to with it.
36. It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.
37. I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.
38. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
39. The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic utensils. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There´s nothing like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.
Bill McNair forwards the URL for a video of an unusual method of preparing an evening meal: cooking steaks on a dashboard: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qlimBm87GM
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Dick Monaghan sends the URL for pictures of a rare Tucker car:
http://www.laubly.com/1948tucker.htm
Jay adds this information: Francis Ford Coppola made a good movie about Tucker and his car:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096316/
Coppola owns a working Tucker, and as the above webpage mentioned, most of the 50 cars built are still running. Frankly, nothing short of amazing. Even Stephen King mentions the Tucker automobile in his story Needful Things.
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You may remember that I have mentioned Kiva before. They offer an inexpensive feel-good way to actually do something about poverty. You can go to Kiva´s website and lend to someone across the globe who needs a loan for her business - like raising goats, selling vegetables at market, or making bricks. Each loan has a picture of the entrepreneur, a description of her business, and how she plans to use the loan so you know exactly how your money is being spent - and you get updates letting you know how the entrepreneur is doing. Loans can be for as little as $25, and almost all of the millions loaned have been repaid. See http://www.kiva.org
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Hoaxes are a big part of the world of scams. Just visit ScamBusters´ Urban Legends and Hoaxes Resource Center, or check out this year´s report on April Fool´s Day scams:
http://www.scambusters.org/legends.html
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My favourite female singer, Nana Mouskouri sings When the Day Is Done: http://arunaurl.com/3612
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"War is the greatest destroyer of human life, the greatest polluter, the greatest creator of refugees, the greatest cause of starvation and illness. We all have to care - not just for our own little circle, but for the universe." - Muriel
Duckworth
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online at http://members.shaw.ca/vjjsansum/
and at http://www.nw-seniors.org/stories.html