New Year, new days, no mistakes yet…

2 01 2015

Well, not strictly true. It’s difficult for a gal like me to get through a day without a mistake or two. I almost set fire to my hot bag today, for example. I’ve given mixed signals to a friend. Promised myself I wouldn’t do that. But I did.

Fortunately, I have other things to write about besides self-blame. I was given a “Forgotten English” calendar for Christmas (Jeff Kacirk’s, see Amazon…)

6033113062_1ab2b8da21_z The first word for the year was so appropriate I have to talk about it. It is baubosking, which apparently makes reference to the straying of cattle or sheep from the pasture assigned to them.

I love that there is a word for such straying. I think this may be a good year for us all to stray a bit, step outside our comfort zone, be seen where we normally wouldn’t be expected, step out and be heard, create discomfort, ask questions. It’s an election year here in Canada. Time to wander into the pastures of unfamiliar organizations, find what is important, munch down on policies we haven’t yet explored.

We spent much of 2014 hearing bad news. Maybe it’s time to leave that pasture, too, look at the good things, FIND the good things, in ourselves and others. Maybe the grass is really greener outside the fence of bad news and media reports.

It’s also been all about sexual harassment in 2014, too. Let’s jump that fence, shall we? Let’s expect men to behave like human beings, let’s hold those that don’t meet that expectation accountable. Let’s pull together, men and women, to ensure respectful treatment for everyone, of all ages. It takes so little to be polite, so little to hold open a door to contact, so little to be well-behaved. Let’s not hide behind bureaucracy and work and puttering and buying and eating to numb the feelings that would make us stand up and offer support and help to others.

I’m eying the pasture gate, myself. Not sure which way I’ll head, but I’ll be stepping out. Want to join me?

Peak_District_Animals_-_Sheep_2We can do it.

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Okay, some things are just wrong.

8 05 2012

There I am, in the Tim Horton’s, after my customary self-flagellation at the gym. I’m sweating slightly, not smelling as I should, and I pick up the Halifax Metro newspaper, only to see this item:
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/world_now/2012/05/south-koreans-confiscated-pills-human-remains.html

Apparently the South Koreans have confiscated capsules that were filled with dehydrated baby remains. People are taking them to enhance their youth.

As my exercise buddy said, somewhere there is something not right along the supply chain.
Apparently they are dehydrated fetuses and stillborn babies that have been dried on ovens and crumbled into the capsules. I wonder if they are primarily female fetuses? I wonder who had the brilliant idea of waste not, want not? I wonder who in their right mind would want to swallow dehydrated fetuses?

And then I wonder how they get the fetuses and stillborn babies. I wonder if any of them were helped along to their dead state. I wonder if this sort of cultural focus needs to exist.

I mean, heck, what is UP with some people?

Sharks are killed in the millions for their fins. Rhinocerii are hunted to extinction for the precious horns. Oysters are felled by the gallon pail in the interest of sexual potency. And now babies?

Of course, in a way, it makes more sense to use the dehydrated babies. After all, they’re dead, anyway, and unlikely to suffer as the animals do during their processing. But haven’t these people read anything about mad cow disease? Prion diseases? The dangers of eating brains? Haven’t they seen ZOMBIE movies, fer gods sake?

And then my friend told me about this: http://www.care2.com/causes/help-the-dancing-boys-of-afghanistan-escape-the-world-of-bacha-bazi.html

And I just wanted to weep.

Sometimes it seems like it might be an overall good thing if we were wiped out. Surely a better race could supersede us. Something with a higher moral sense. Something like cockroaches.








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