The death last weekend of Whitney Houston was indeed tragic.  Here was a woman who apparently had it all; looks, voice, wealth, fame.  What she didn’t have, it appears, are people around her who cared about her enough to break through the trappings of stardom in order to save her.  Because, like so many others before her, Whitney Houston was a drug addict. 

Her talents were happily acknowledged at the Grammy Awards the night following her untimely death. There were lots of tributes and “we love you” Whitney’s proclaimed that night.  I’m not even sure what they meant.  Did they mean, I love your music?  Or I love YOU?  Because if it was the latter, in a room full of people who claimed to love her, where were these people 5 years ago, 10 years ago, when her drug addiction problems began?

Where was the love from those closest to her…who likely helped facilitate her every desire, including her wish for more drugs? 

I always marvel at people who have everything, because somehow it’s not enough for them.  Why is it not enough?  Why are they unable to recognize how good they truly have it?  How do they end up surrounding themselves with people who are simply yes men, unable to tell them the truth and get them the help that they need?

Whitney Houston could certainly afford all the help in the world to overcome her addiction, and yet she was ultimately unable to beat it, either by rejecting it or thinking that she could do it on her own.  Ego, strengthened by addiction is a very dangerous force.

Dying alone in a hotel room stoned is no way to end what should have been a beautiful life, full of joy and passion. My only hope for Whitney is that she knew more of those good moments than bad.

You've heard of pole dancing? How about hose dancing?

You know when you have a problem and you’re like a dog with a bone until you solve it?  This has been my life for the past month when our remote control for the electric gate into our complex started malfunctioning.

Uttering the words “abracadabra” wasn’t working any better than pushing the button for the remote repeatedly.  My nightly temporary solution (usually in the rain) was to pull up to the gate, and with the car running and my purse inside, open the small pedestrian gate, run inside and dance on the hose to open the gate, all the while praying that someone didn’t steal my car.  It seems that my menopausal weight gain was not enough for the hose to open the gate; hence my nightly dance upon it, trying to make myself heavier.

So I bought a new battery.  Actually, I bought two new batteries because that’s the only way you can purchase the size of battery that I needed.  Just my luck. All $12 dollars worth of it.

Battery change didn’t work.  Onto Canadian Tire to view their vast selection of garage door remote controls.  The vast selection comprised exactly three devices; two of which didn’t appear to be programmable.  So, I went with the only one that had an ancient programmable code that I could enter into it (as opposed to receiving rolling messages from space).

I took it home, opened her up and started to go blind trying to move the little teeny tiny widgets with the supplied paper clip thingy.  Wow, this really was hi-tech!  Out to the gate I went, all hopeful in anticipation, only to have the gate remain firmly shut, mocking me.

On one of my many trips inside to read the instructions further, my helpful husband called me…trying to help from afar.  He could see neither the instructions not the device, so in frustration, I hung up the phone and tried, tried again.

Hours spent to no avail.  Husband arrives home….speaks to neighbours who all concur…you don’t need a garage door opener (stupid!), you need a gate opener.  What the hell was the difference, I asserted, as long as you could program the thing?  And I didn’t recall seeing a Gate Opener section at Canadian Tire.

I took the device back for my full refund and my husband, speaking more slowly and in clearer English, tried to explain the problem yet again to the under-aged staff. We left empty handed.

Finally, at the next council meeting, Ken spoke to the one person on our strata who actually knew about such things.  Vindicated, I was…when Greg explained that I had purchased the correct device, but I simply hadn’t managed to get the remote speaking to the gate.  Apparently, yelling obscenities at the gate wasn’t going to get the job done either. I had to match the frequency of the device to the gate, program the code and perhaps face to the east, do the hokey-pokey and turn myself around, but I digress. 

Back to Canadian Tire. Back to the wall of doom to purchase yet another remote, this time in black.  I read the instructions with the concentration of a Buddhist Monk meditating on the meaning of life.  I risked blindness once more moving the little widgets ever so carefully into place for the secret code.  Finally, I took the device to the gate, along with the paper clip thingy and tried every combination of settings to get the gate to talk.  Had I been able to slap the gate, I would have. On the very last setting, the gate miraculously opened.

My eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing.  Thinking it was a fluke, I patiently waited for the gate to close fully before pushing the magic button yet again.  Happiness.

From the time we started to have problems with the remote, to the day I got the new remote to open the gate, a full month had gone by.  But at least for now, the hose dancing is over and the neighbors can stop laughing.

The end is in sight

In Vancouver at least, we’re in what I call the Winter Home Stretch.  Just about at the end….we can even see the cherry blossom finish line.  Just one more short month to go and it will officially be Spring.

I’m amazed that I’ve survived another winter.  Can’t imagine how the pilgrims did it.  I survived with indoor heating, a gas fireplace, an electric blanket and an assortment of delicious bath products.

As of yet, I haven’t even ventured out into the snow…but that will change at the very end of February.  Frankly, I couldn’t muster the courage to drive in winter conditions or face the horrendous crowds of the North Shore Mountains.  The scenic beauty of winter was not enough of a carrot to get me there.

Soon, I will be giddy with the excitement of power washing my deck and rearranging my patio furniture…not to mention making the annual trek to the nursery for new flowers.  Until then, I will hunker down in my flannel P.J.’s, in front of my roaring fire and wait for the new growth, warmer temperatures and daylight.


How are you surviving winter?

Yenlike contentment

Contentment is a crazy thing.  Amazing that one can even feel content in a world where more, better, faster, newer is always being pushed and we’re not supposed to feel satisfied until we HAVE IT ALL, whatever that means.

I haven’t been writing my blog because I realized that I was pretty happily content. Content to just be without a writing deadline.  I wasn’t really pissed off about anything, so no need to rant.  Just sitting around motionless in January keeping to my happy little quiet self and realizing that everything was just as it should be.  Yawn.

I don’t have it all and never will.  I wouldn’t even know what to do with it if I did.  Where would I put it?   There isn’t enough time in the day for ALL of it anyway…I can just about cope time wise with what I have now.

The only problem with contentment, as I see it, is inertia.  If one is truly content with one’s current circumstances, what possesses one to get off the couch and do something new?  Boredom? 

How content are you with your present circumstances?  What, if anything, do you need to do?