How Are You Making Out?

What’s on my mind? “In a world where you can be anything, be kind.” Great advice! And if you encounter Mr. or Ms. Nasty? Turn the other cheek - and I don’t mean your backside, Baby.

This is a time of unprecedented challenges and heartaches. Some people’s emotions are at or near the breaking point.

On opening yesterday’s email, I found an intriguing chicken recipe from my friend Judy. I wrote about Judy a few days ago: She’s been calling friends to ask how they’ve been making out (not the best choice of words, but oh, well) during COVID. By chance, I’ve been doing the same thing for a couple of months (I’m not talking about “making out” - that’s a given, ha-ha).

Judy’s kindness was an unexpected ray of sunshine. It made me think about how fortunate we are. That got me thinking about helping others boost their spirits.

The fact is, many of us are getting bored and frustrated with the day-to-day humdrum of our lives. So here are a few suggestions, starting with … S-E-X!

I’ve spelled it out so any young children trying to make out (not the best choice of words, but oh, well) this page won’t understand the word. 

It’s a little embarrassing to raise (sorry about that!) S-E-X on Facebook, and not everyone’s interested, so strike S-E-X from your activities list if you aren’t. But if S-E-X interests you, HOLEY MOLEY, go for it!

Good grief, I said HOLEY MOLEY! That wasn’t some sly, coded reference to body parts. It would be in poor taste to pubicly  declare that I like S-E-X and I aspire to being a good-taste kinda gal. 

The bottom (oh, dear) line is that my innocent reference to “good taste” doesn’t mean I’ve got S-E-X on the brain. So I’ll add S-E-X to my activity list, and if you want S-E-X on yours, do the nasty in private. What-e-ver! Your secret’s safe with me.

My suggestions for staying fulfilled (a slip of the pen, BFFs) include firing up your Kindle (whoo-hoo!); pursuing a hobby in something you’ve always wanted to do (not THAT!); and reaching out to touch someone (I’m not touching THAT one, either). 

Don’t forget to thank essential workers (no comment) and seek a Higher Power (preferably, not salacious).

Share what you have (I’m starting to sweat); ask if you need help (ditto); and never lose hope (or faith … or charity).

Those in your bubble may enjoy such games as Twister (self-explanatory) or tic-tac-toe sucking (whoo-hoo!) … There’s plenty to keep you busy. Some people like crosswords ... Not I! No one wants S-E-X with a grump.

© Nicole Parton, 2021

The Danger of Me-First Thinking

What’s on my mind? The day-to-day tedium of COVID-19: The social distancing; the home confinement; the wearing of masks in public places; the inability to visit friends one-on-one. 

Live with it, Baby Doll: Dying from COVID would be significantly harder.

What if your choices were different? What if you said: “I choose not to get sucked into the negativity and vortex of fear”? In other words, ignore the pandemic. I know someone who’s done exactly that. Sounds pretty good, right? An anti-vaxxer, her recent birthday party featured a DJ and a newly installed dance floor. 

She’s posted Facebook pix of herself at a bar. She’s currently staying at a luxury resort and spa. Good? Uh-uh. Bad. Very, very bad - precisely the selfish behavior that perpetuates the spread of a deadly virus. Maturity and critical thinking skills will get us through this crisis. Me-first thinking will not.

Me-first thinking is irresponsible. So is COVID denial and the inability to grasp reality. Suggesting COVID is a hoax is wilful ignorance that puts lives at risk - your own, your family’s, and the lives of those around you. Suck it up, buttercup.

COVID is depressing on many escalating levels. You’re bored? You won’t be if you’re   fighting for your life. You’re depressed? Get over it. 

 Himself and I sometimes get depressed. And then we poke our noses out the window to inhale the fresh air; we go for a walk; we play cards; we phone or send emails to those who need a lift; we donate what we can to those in desperate need. 

Helping others makes us feel better. A recent psychological study found that helping another person offers a three-way benefit: The person helped feels better; you feel better; anyone observing the good deed feels better. In other words, think less about you and more about others.

This morning, I saw a TV ad for a luxury Alfa Romeo sedan. The attractive blond behind the wheel was on her way to a social event. I found the ad’s elitist message (and timing, during a global pandemic) offensive. 

The number of unemployed is increasing. So is the number of homeless. Some of those still hanging on need to choose between paying the rent and buying food. Essential workers are exhausted. Many hospitals and morgues have reached their capacity. Extremists are rioting. Government bail-outs are becoming stretched. 

Alfa Romeo’s ad highlights the divide between the haves and have-nots. The ad isn’t  meant to offend, but I have to wonder if the subtle message to the rich is that lifting the boredom, depression, and fear of COVID is as simple as buying a new toy - the infinitely costlier version of a DJ and a newly installed dance floor.

I’m cranky, I suppose, but (as much as I love animals)  the tear-jerking TV ads for the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty of Animals (ASPCA) also offend me. There’s plenty online about these ads: Read it. My guess is that the ASPCA is highly sensitive about such searches, because the overwhelming number of sites I looked at were critical of how much money actually goes to animals in need. 

I’ve wondered the same, so within seconds of my Googling the question, the site I checked linked directly to a lawyer’s office. Shortly after, a representative of that very office was online for a “chat.” I immediately disconnected from the site.

To the best of my knowledge, the ASPCA has not published an annual report since the end of 2018, when it claimed $283 million in assets. At the time, its CEO was paid $712,397 and $57,129 in benefits, for a total compensation of $769,526. 

I have no way of knowing if the site from which I got this information is or is not true, but I do know several things: 1/ The best way to protect animals is through strengthened local, state, and provincial laws as well as tough federal legislation. 2/ Although animal abuse and neglect are tragic, people should take priority over animals during this desperate time of COVID. 3/ Charities able to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on sad-sounding TV ads are not the kind of charities I want to support.

As people around the world suffer, others spend money recklessly. Let’s hope the ultimate cost of a DJ and a dance floor doesn’t deliver any nasty surprises.

© Nicole Parton, 2021

How to Destroy a Burger Joint in One Easy Lesson

Note from me to you: I should probably be commenting on President Donald J. Trump’s call to far-right extremists and terrorists to rise up against democracy. Despite all evidence, Trump continues to believe he won the election “in a landslide.” Wrong-o: President-elect Joe Biden won, weeks ago. As Trump continued to insist the election be overturned, and Wednesday’s riot ripped through Washington’s Capitol Building, five people died in the insurrection he encouraged. 

Although a truculent, deranged, dangerous Trump will be leaving office Jan. 20th, the Democrats are fast-tracking Monday’s vote to begin impeachment proceedings against him. May they succeed in that endeavor. 

I should - and want - to comment about that, but haven’t the heart. I’m sickened by the wackos and conspiracy theorists who still believe Joe Biden “stole” the presidential election from Trump. I’m sickened by Trump’s dog whistles to terrorists he calls “patriots.” 

I’m sickened that the President’s enablers continue to support his cheating, lying, malignant narcissism, racism, self-dealing, income tax evasion, adultery, and lack of any moral compass. 

No, I won’t be commenting on Donald Trump. Better and smarter minds can do that. Those closer to the scene can do that. Those who know Trump well can do that. If this commentary were about Donald Trump, it would be titled How to Destroy a Country in One Easy Lesson. 

Instead, this is a story about How to Destroy a Burger Joint in One Easy Lesson. Although it’s an awful story, it’s a true one, as all my posts are. I hope it will make you smile. God only knows, we all need a smile, these days - Nicole

Canadian photographer John Denniston, with whom I used to work, recently reminded me that I once single-handedly destroyed a burger joint.

In an unfortunate episode of Dorkism, I decided to ferret out Vancouver’s Best Hamburger, the plan being to write a newspaper column about my search as John photographed happy diners with full mouths and tummies. 

The story had everything to do with driving a whole lot of miles, asking a whole lot of questions, and chowing down a whole lot of (burp!) burgers. Advertisers? I didn’t give a fig, and nor did the newspaper, in those innocent days. 

When a little burger joint beat its big-time competitors, 20-person lineups formed outside the restaurant’s door. Disaster ensued.

When the regulars couldn’t get in, they stopped coming. Run off their feet with the increase in business, the staff started quitting - sometimes in the middle of a shift. With fewer staff and longer lineups, first-time customers gave up trying to get in. It didn’t take long for the place to slide into receivership. I hang my head in shame.

© Nicole Parton, 2021

Revenge is Best Eaten Cold

What’s on my mind? My brother René, connoiseur of butter tarts, (NICOLE PARTON IS IN PATAGONIA) knows how to give as well as he gets. A few years ago, when René and wife Leslie were visiting New York, he was checking out an art show when he saw Sir Paul McCartney. Which was what he told gullible Moi at the time. 

From the moment I swallowed that bit of fiction, he began spinning a story so wild I believed it had to be true. So this was what he told me: Not wanting to look like the wild-eyed, Beatle-crazed maniac he is, René played it cool, nonchalantly sidling over to Sir Paul, who was bent over a painting called Norwegian Wood. (Beatle lovers will recognize those words as the title of a popular 1965 Beatles’ song.)

His Pinocchio nose growing longer by the second, René claimed he sidled over to McCartney, commenting: “Isn’t it good?” His story unfurling, René told me his sly use of the song’s refrain sent Sir Paul a subtle signal René was an “okay guy.” 

As René blathered on, Sir Paul allegedly turned from the painting to shake René’s  hand and greet him as he might an old friend. 

(At that point, I couldn’t restrain myself, saying something like: “Wowwwww!!!” and quizzing René if he’d asked Sir Paul for his autograph. I assumed René had but no-o-o-o ... He was playing it cool. 

Hanging on René’s ever word, I pressed: “So what did you do?” Said René: “I asked Sir Paul: ‘What about a photo?’ He said ‘Yes.’ ” 

By this time, I was twitching with excitement. “I WANNA SEE IT! LEMME SEE IT!” René told me to stifle. 

“What happened next?” I asked.  René continued: “I handed him the camera, Leslie and I posed, and he took our picture.” 

“Wh-a-a-at??? You idiot!” I screamed. “You should have taken a picture of him!” René's tut-tut grin told me I’d been had. Literally for years, I’ve been quietly waiting to out-fox him, as I did in yesterday’s post.

René’s love of butter tarts and my promise to send him some tart pans had blinded him to the illogic of my visiting Patagonia for 16 long months. Hell, I don't even drive to the post office without asking Himself to come along in what we seniors consider an “outing.”

What’s the old saying about revenge? That it’s best eaten cold. To which I might add: Like a butter tart.

© Nicole Parton, 2021

NICOLE PARTON IS IN PATAGONIA

What’s on my mind? Mischief!

Don’t ask why (dunno), but it’s not even April Fool’s Day and I’m already torturing my brother, René, who believes every word that falls from his big sister’s face. 

When René wrote that the Christmas tart pans I sent him arrived in the wrong size (What sane person understands $%#@ metric???), I was too weary to sort it out, so Himself did.

 

Yesterday, without a word of explanation and with Himself in on the joke, I sent René a phoney “AUTOREPLY” that “NICOLE PARTON IS IN PATAGONIA UNTIL APRIL, 2022. SHE WILL ANSWER WHEN SHE IS ABLE.”

Himself answered René’s email, telling him how to return the tart pans we’d bought via Amazon and saying Himself would order them in the correct size. Himself is some sort of metric genius. 

Again, with no explanation of the reason for my trip, Himself wrote René: “Hi René!  Labels have been emailed to you from Amazon. Please print and follow instructions to send back. Nicole says hi from Patagonia. She reports she is very hot there. (Ohhh, YES!!!) Happy New Year!”

At the close of his thank you to Himself, René wrote: “Cheers, beers and happier new year(s) to you both.

 

René

 

PS: Patagonia!?”

A few hours later, I wrote René: “Hi from Patagonia, Chile, where I expect to be researching for 16 months. There was a problem with the tart pans …? I don’t know what, but Himself has apparently fixed it. It’s already Jan. 1 here. I’ve had trouble sleeping (jet lag) and must hit the hay again. My email reception is sporadic, so I’ll wave bye-bye for now! xox Nicole 

PS: Himself, if you’re dealing with the Amazon, I may have had a better shot at it from here, though I’ve been told we have no post office - just a mail boat every 10 days.” 

This morning, when my ever-trusting brother wrote again, I’d already fixed the header on my email to read: “Re: Tart Pans! Re: Re: Re: AUTOMATIC REPLY”

“Hi, Nicole ... and happy new year to you.  I was sure surprised by news of your current whereabouts, and now I look forward to hearing about the nature of your research. (I'm assuming you’d already considered just doing a Google search.) Hope you get your internal clock / circadian rhythms back to normal soon.

xoxo

René 

After waiting an appropriate length of time, I answered:

“I guess I can cancel my auto-reply. It’s very humid here. I’ll be living in a tent in Maquinchao for the next few months before moving on to El Bolson. The other researchers are extremely wary of pumas, but I’m not in the least afr

 y3ch weCREe jegeacsh A64JZL>?*””LKJ HY4

© Nicole Parton, 2021