Circular Argument

To mark
today being the
29th of February, and
knowing that it only comes
around once every four years I
thought that I should do something
exceptional!!! I wanted to have some
great, profound circular argument that
would wow everyone, but alas nothing!
So I thought why not make the physical
argument circular? Great gambit! If I
do say so myself. So here I am trying
to find a way to finish my shape to
complete my task and move on.
Sometimes justice must not
only be done it must be
seen as being done.
Happy Leap
Year!

Basking in the Breeze of Change

Yesterday morning my household got an unaccustomed 7:00 am telephone call. I answered with some trepidation because past experience told me that such a call in the wee hours of the morning could not be bringing good news. My answering the ring revealed my cousin on the other end his voice filled with an amount of excitement. “Did you read the Gleaner yet this morning?” he asked (the Gleaner, more commonly known as the Daily Gleaner is Jamaica’s oldest and leading daily newsprint publication). “They threw some of those criminals in prison yesterday.” As he said that, I already knew who he talking about and any keen observer of the Jamaican political climate would.

Now it’s not that we were rejoicing in someone else’s misfortune but we both knew that we were observing change – a movement away from the status quo and that’s what was exciting us. A couple of months ago in Jamaica, a low ranking police officer admitted to planting evidence at a crime scene and we rejoiced too because this act signaled that change was in the air - I cannot recollect such a thing happening before. First the change in the air it seemed, manifested itself into the slighest hint of a tropical breeze similar to that found meandering off Jamaica's coastline above the Caribbean Sea; blowing ashore and tipping the hats of John Q. Public on a balmy summer’s day. Then, a politician actually spends a night in prison for alleged wrongdoing to the public sensibilty, dare we believe that this still, calm, breeze could become a wind of change? Only time, prayers, vigilance and the greatest meteorologist of them all can tell.

The Rules of Being Snowbound

On Friday gone it snowed. I have no love for that white smushy stuff and coming from a tropical clime I know, makes me even more unappreciative of same. However, I have become aware that snowy weather brings with it a certain type of etiquette or snetiquette (as I love to call it) that governs behavior when the white stuff hits the road, somewhat akin to when the defecation collides with the oscillation – or thereabouts. So for all you who have never personally seen this stuff in all its natural wonder you’re not really missing anything, the amazing white out gets real old, real fast and then you got to clean it up, good luck! But if I have not dissuaded your amazement, here are a few things you aught to know….

1. Snow goes hand in hand with cold extreme cold. Surprise, surprise. I bet you had not thought of that! You can only enjoy so much of the stuff before you’re freezing cold and have to rush inside for Milo and toast bread. Be wary.

2. Dress effectively. Jeans and a T Shirt will not do when fighting the elements only layers will. My recommendation – thermal underwear, several shirts, sweaters, heavy corduroys, ear muffs (those things that resemble headphones outfitted by the M&M crew), hat, heavy coat, at least two pairs of socks, boots – generally the rule of thumb is - if you are “bundled up” until you feel you are squeezing out your windpipe or if you accidentally fall you will roll then you’re fine.

3. Be observant. When the school district starts to test their emergency call around system; or when there is a rush on items such as bottled water, tinned foods, and bread and the extremely crowded supermarket starts selling shovels; or when suddenly you’re noticing infinitely more trucks driving around with snow plough mechanisms attached, chances are something snowy your way cometh.

4. Your neighbor’s snow blower is not necessarily your own. Really, when you think of it why should they help you out, when they spent money on a machine that is only used sometimes four times (if that many) in a possible six month period and you just want to depend on their generosity to save you from having to hoist your shovel and move bushels of fluff the hard way? But when they do, you are required to pay the good deed forward and help out another neighbor who did not get the relief you did – not really a requirement just good karma!

5. The snow plough is not your friend. Guaranteed, when you clear your car or driveway of the stuff, the evil snow plough guy is going to come and mess it up again leaving a high pitched “heh heh heh” in his wake. Take a deep breath shake it off and get to work again, no use crying the stuff is still falling and needs to be cleared.

6. Snowbound is not the same as snowed in!! If you are snowed in the situation is drastic retreat to a shelter – this is not a test.

Rules may vary. Void where prohibited. Rules do not apply in Florida or most of California. If symptoms continue see a travel agent, take a trip to Jamaica and wait it out.

Yes My Third Child's Name is Dora and So What?!

I didn’t realize until this chapter of my life that the name Dora can be found in so many incarnations. The word “Adorable,” has it right in the middle; D.W.’s (on the cartoon “Arthur”) first name is Dora but alas none can compare to that giant in the childhood landscape, “Dora the Explorer.” I feel a special kinship to her you see she’s got to be my third child - even though I can’t remember giving birth to her - she lives in my house!

My youngest is obsessed with Dora and believe me there is a lot to obsess about. Literally from a pin to an anchor can be found with Dora’s mug on it! Another parent said, “Shouldn’t she be growing out of that phase now?” Maybe, if she was a child to bow to peer pressure, but she is steadfast in her Dorarification and you have to admire her for that. She speaks fluent Dora; is well read in Dora; in fact I don’t think you could find someone more conversant on the nuances in the field of things Dora; truthfully speaking she is a Doraologist.

But she is not alone. Little one is aided and abetted by EVERY RELATIVE I HAVE that insists on buying and sending her care packages or doraliverys as I call them, at any chance they get. We took a series of photos when my eldest niece was leaving to seek her fortune across the pond and Dora was front and center in every shot, prompting the comment “I guess Dora is a part of the family!” True that, but she has a closet of clothes accessories that you and I can only dream about so maybe she ought to stick around, one day I might be able to borrow something from that diva. What can I say, if you can’t beat them, join them.

Triathlon Man

Look up there in the sky! It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no its Triathlon Man and his trusty sidekick Ambulance Guy!

My brother is a man of many interests and about ten years ago he began entering the Jamaican Triathlon. He bought a bicycle, running shoes and goggles because he was very serious about it. I must say that being an athlete all his life, he was in good condition but the conditioning the triathlon gave his body was phenomenal. Even now when I believe he does not train as much as he did in the very beginning, he still has the body of a man ten to twelve years his junior.

His training was intense. We heard stories about cutting through the waves with his bare hands and getting his second wind to peddle faster. He had theories about training in the open ocean as opposed to training in a swimming pool. We were regaled with tales of taking swimming lessons to help with buoyancy and speed and how the lift of the arm at a particular angle could lessen drag and therefore increase speed. Now I’m not questioning the validity of all that wonderful theory save one thing; my brother always comes in last just before the ambulance can leave to go home.

Consider them his royal escort of a sort, but believe me they are never pleased about the situation. For, hours after the winner comes in, there they are rolling behind my brother who - is famous for saying that when the swimming seems too exhausting he just flips over and does the backstroke into shore! The ambulance folks in their frustration can be heard muttering and groaning amongst themselves,

“ Why we nuh just open up di back an fling him in? Cho man, we coulda just help him out wid finishing the race an everybody get fi leave!!”

Undaunted my brother perseveres. There has to be something said about his tenacity though, ten years of last place is quite the accomplishment!! The triathlon is coming up soon and he will enter again this year. Oh by the way, he is now on a first name basis with those ambulance folk!!!

Overheard

Place: A random schoolyard

Players: Children in schoolyard and parents accompanying them to cars as they go home.

Action: Overheard conversation.

(In that sing-song teasing tone that all children use- to the tune of "I have a doughnut you don't have one")

Child #1: I know what the colour of your Daddy's face is!

Child #2: No you don't!

Child #1: Yes I do, it's white!

Recoiling in horror -

Grandmother Child #1:-------!(insert name) That's not very polite! We don't say things like that. Please apologise.

Mother Child #2: Oh, don't worry about it children will be children.

Apologising, but confused,

Child #1: I'm sorry.

The parents rush children off to their cars in embarassed fluster, avoiding each other's gaze.

Next Day - same scene.

Child #1: I know what colour your Daddy's face is!

Grandmother Child #1 Oh!! (in disbelief.)

Ignoring mother's signals to not encourage conversation:-

Child #2: Yeah? What is it?

Child #1: It's Peach!!

The parents rush children off to their cars in embrassed fluster, avoiding each other's gaze.



Isn't political correctness grand?!

Dads and Daughters

There is a special relationship between fathers and daughters that I can't help but think probably foreshadows later relationships. All this said, I cannot help but marvel about the way daughters can wrap dads around their little fingers.

Case in point, shoe shopping. I thought that it would be a good idea for my husband to take my daughter to buy winter boots a couple of months ago. Now winter boots are not really an essential item especially in a season that has been sans snow, but the trip was good for bonding not to mention testing ground for the validity of any such future jaunt. When I go shoe shopping with my children we decide together on the best compromise of function and style so naturally this is what I was expecting to be the outcome of this adventure.

I waited anxiously at home for the shoppers to return that Monday evening after their expectant vanquishing of the mall foe while hoisting the prize boots in the air, triumphant. But whats this? As the troops filed in to base camp everyone exhausted but smiling, my eldest was already wearing her selection on her feet, straight out of the store. Okay, can anyone tell me why they were white, faux leather, cowboy boots with pink stitching and two inch heels? Not wanting to make a scene and undermine anyone's tastes I said to my husband through my smiling teeth, "Honey, what happened?" He replied, "thats what she said she wanted."

You know I can't fault my daughter though, because I would have pulled the same trick with my father too when I was little but needless to say, she will go shoe shopping with me in the future.