MY MY Migraines

Be careful what you wish for. I had looked forward to doing nothing on Saturday. But, rather than choosing my leisure activity, I was forced into a dark room with the air conditioning blowing on my face.

I got a migraine Friday night. I was out with Bill and had no medication. I asked the bartender for some headache meds and he gave me some Advil. Of course, it did nothing. I left the dinner party and drove to Walgreen's (it's on the way home). It closed just as I got there.  At 10:00 p.m. What kind of a closing time is that? A car full of Minnesotans were equally disappointed. They asked me if I was "local" and if I knew if there was a 24 hour Target or Walmart close by? (because that's fun on a Friday night)

 "24 hour ? Do they do that?" I asked.  They assured me that some did.

I told them where the nearest Target was located (I'm presently boycotting Walmart), got into my car, sans drugs, and told myself that I could probably sleep through the pain.

WRONG.

I woke up with a pinpoint headache behind my right eye. Occasionally it would radiate above that eye and then wander down my jaw and behind my head (at the neck). But, always that sharp pain behind my right eye.

Finally, morning came and I got up out of bed. It was such a gorgeous day that I decided (a) a  walk would do me good; (b) a Tim Horton's coffee would help; and (c) a stop a Walgreen's for some medication would be in order. And, Bill was up for a stroll.

The pain seemed to dissipate a little as we walked. I had my dark glasses on and I did not need to talk, as Bill kept the conversation going.

I dipped into Walgreen's, got my pills and downed them with a bottle of water that I had carried for that specific purpose. Then, it was on to Tim Horton's. Ahhhhhhhhh. You know how I feel about that coffee.

After we arrived back home, I cleaned the kitchen half- heartedly as I was beginning to feel nauseous and a little jittery. I started to sort some laundry on the bed and decided that the laundry needed to stay in the basket and I had to get onto the bed. I was dizzy, and dis-associated from the rest of my body.

Every so often I would play a Scrabble word on my iPhone as long as I shut my right eye.
Bill came in and rubbed my neck  :) He asked if he should stick around in case I had a hemorrhage, brain tumor or stroke. Humor doesn't really work on a migraine sufferer.

I told him to go.

I got up a couple of times for water and eventually made myself a sandwich. To my great delight,  my mother (who is presently gallivanting along the shores of Lake Huron) left some delicious chicken salad and some lovely rolls. I ate a chicken salad sandwich, 2 glasses of milk and went back to bed for some more one-eyed scrabble.

By about 4:00 p.m the pain had subsided enough that felt I could open the curtains without too much effort. I looked longingly into the backyard.

I grabbed my book, went downstairs and outside. I pulled a lawn chair into the shade and started into the story. And, promptly fell asleep.

Migraines take it out of me.

Will Move for Beer



The original place on Spadina - during Emma's inspection



As I write this, our son is assisting our daughter in moving all her worldly possessions from a lovely apartment on Spadina in Toronto into a small 10x15 storage unit somewhere north of Dupont. Emma was determined to move;  she just didn't quite get the timing right. She gave notice to her current landlord that she would be vacating by July 31... trouble was she didn't have another place lined up to move into on July 31.

She looked at (read "inspected with a microscope") over 40 places in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area), well actually within a very small downtown radius. She couldn't find anything suitable. She had a long list of 'must haves' not the least of which was a balcony. Her living space had to: (a) be within her price range - she was moving out because the landlord had raised her rent; (b) be within a proper (i.e. commutable distance to UofT) neighborhood; (c)  not have any carpeting (her allergies make it impossible); (d)  have off street parking; (e) not be in a high-rise/multi person dwelling; (f) have ample closet space... you can see why she had a hard time.

So, a September 1 move in date was inevitable.

As luck would have it, Will, our son had planned a trip to Algonquin Park with a couple of  his canoeing pals. They had aspirations of taking a road trip to Montreal after their wilderness excursion, but they ran out of money. Emma pounced on the opportunity. "Come to Toronto - I will feed you and house you and take you to some fun pubs (19 is the legal drinking age). All you have to do is a little heavy lifting." She was like a siren with weary sailors. Suffice it to say, they drove down to Toronto last night - game for the challenge.

I think Will help persuade the boys, too. He's a good brother and would help Emma anytime she asked.

Anyway, this a HUGE gift to me: My weekend is now free. I insisted that Bill keep his calendar clear this weekend so that we could go to Toronto to help Emma move. Now, the calendar is CLEAR, and I cannot wait to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! If you're anything like us, the summer weekends are booked solid by June 1. I cannot even make a date to see my own cousins for dinner! It makes me crazy! So, this weekend is precious!

I just hope that Bill will allow me to do absolutely nothing. If you see him, please don't ask him to do anything this weekend! I really want him to myself.

Niagara Falls, NY - the Same Sex Marriage Capital of the World?

Finally! New York State passes a bill to legalize same-sex marriage. It was a long time coming, and I, for one, am ecstatic that the senate saw the light. Passage had been close before, and I was surprised when it failed a couple of years ago. Now, it has been passed, and I can rejoice.

Never one to miss an "opportunity", Bill has been trying to figure out another way for New Yorkers to benefit from this bill. Besides the obvious one of allowing gay citizens the right to be recognized, he was intent on getting some additional money into the state coffers.


Bill is a native of Niagara Falls, NY. For those of you who haven't been to Niagara Falls, NY since, oh, since Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotton made the famous movie ('Niagara'), let me assure  you that it is not the romance capital it once was. It has declined into a state of disrepair and ill repute. There are a lot of well meaning citizens who have attempted to revitalize the area. Most notably, the Seneca nation has infused a lot of cash into the casino business. Unfortunately, the beautiful casino has not generated revenue for the rest of the city: If your destination is the casino, you tend to stay in the casino. You don't leave the multimillion dollar facility to grab a coke at the Wilson's Farm or a meal at the Como. PS - the Como, on Pine Avenue is a fantastic Italian restaurant. Well worth a trip.

The United Office Bldg

But, what does remains in Niagara Falls is Kitsch with a capital K. It was once THE honeymoon capital of the US. Bill maintains that it could reclaim this title if it caters to and targets same-sex couples who want to tie the knot. It has some beautiful art deco buildings (Carl Paladino did a great refurbishment of the old United Office Building) and the beauty and splendor of the Falls is second to none (well, maybe Victoria Falls - but who goes THERE?).

The strip of motels on Niagara Falls Blvd, (The Driftwood, the Sands, The Caravan, The Bit O' Paris), complete with heart -shaped jacuzzi tubs, flocked wallpaper and crushed velvet window treatments, may entice those couples who go for the 1940s glitz and glamour. Tim Gunn may cringe, but I personally know some couples who would delight in such decor! And, the Maid of the Mist? The name alone is made for love!

Bill was so excited about the prospect of the gay marriage bill that he emailed Mayor Dyster (the mayor of Niagara Falls) and proposed his idea. Now, remember, Canada already recognizes same-sex marriages and has completely missed the boat in Niagara Falls, Ontario. They have made it 'family friendly' and 'tasteful'. What if we just gave into some questionable taste and embraced the "over the top" sensibility that is Niagara Falls! We're 80% of the way there.

I think I told you about Bill's "Don't be an asshole" campaign aimed at Buffalo drivers. But, I think this one has legs.  Mayor Dyster: TAKE NOTICE. This is a fantastic idea. Tie the knot in Niagara Falls; make Niagara Falls the gay marriage capital of the world.
And, Bill's slogan?

 IT'S YOUR TURN FOR ROMANCE!!!

A series of fortunate events

Normally, I spend the 4th of July at home in Buffalo with the family. But, due to some cancellations, change of plans, change of heart, and the ability to make last minute decisions, Emma, Mum and I found ourselves hurtling through time and space (otherwise known as the QEW) last Friday night. Luckily, the traffic was all going the opposite way so we flew through Toronto and continued north. Three and half hours later we were dockside, waiting for my best friend, Annie to pick us up in her aluminum skiff. We had missed cocktail hour, but had made it in time for a late supper.

Annie has the great, good fortune of owning a lovely cottage on an island in the middle of the Canadian Shield. The kids (and sometimes Bill) and I have visited her there since she bought it in 1995. Let me tell you, that 3.5 hour journey plus the small boat ride to her island has the effect of lifting us into another dimension.  Life at the cottage is slow and easy and uncomplicated. The air is fresh and smells of cedar. Every so often you can catch a whiff of the water - the way water is supposed to smell: clean and cold and a little bit earthy. The loons call at dusk and dawn, the chipmunks chatter, and the red squirrels scamper up the side of the rock face on which the cottage sits. The biggest decisions that have to be made are whether to stick with Lite beer or move on to gin and tonics.  

The cottage is rustic enough to make you feel like you left the city, but fully equipped with heat, hydro, appliances, comfortable places to lounge and have dinner and with wonderful sleeping accommodations. And, although there is a superb bathroom, I still prefer to use the outhouse. This outhouse is like none you've ever seen: cleaned within an inch of its life, non-smelling and nestled in a lovely part of the woods.

Annie also has a bunkie (pictured here). It holds two single beds and has windows on all sides. Emma and I slept up there each night. One night I woke up and thought for an instant that I was at home and my mind instantly went to: what time is it? how much more time until I have to get up for work. Then I smelled the cool air and realized where I was. A feeling of such joy and peace overcame me. I thought to myself : remember this feeling. This is as close to nirvana as you are ever going to come. I nestled back under the duvet and fell back asleep immediately. 

Annie, Mum and Bella

My mum was able to come with us and probably had the best time of anyone. Annie has a lovely Bernese Mountain Dog, named Bella -  Mum quickly made friends with this sweet, hairy beast. Curiously, mum, at 80 is more easy going than I remember when she was younger. She accepts what comes her way and makes the most of it. She was determined to go swimming after she saw Emma and I dive off the dock. And, although it was a tad chilly, she bravely ventured in (with her bathing cap and lipstick firmly in place) and swam out past the rocky shoal. Mission accomplished.

And, in the middle of this idyll on the island .... didn't I meet a guy who works for Ferrari Ontario. Let's backtrack for a moment. A couple of months ago Bill had a wee accident at Watkins Glen with his Ferrari. He smashed it up but he was unhurt. Apparently, the car is so old that you can't get parts for it anymore. Bill has been mourning this car mishap since his auto-body guy told him the bad news about the lack of replacement parts.  Bill even offered to pay Will to use his Internet research skills to find the darn parts. Apparently, there may be a part that will work ... but it is in Taipei.

Now, picture this: My legs are hanging off the dock when an island neighbor comes by to say 'hello' and to drop off some berries and peas. He casually mentions that his weekend guest is a car nut who works for Ferrari Ontario - and he does body work. I about fell in the water.

The next day, Mr. Ferrari Ontario comes by, I show him the picture of Bill's smashed up car (that was on my camera phone) and he and Bill start emailing each other! WHAT THE HECK?? How do things like that happen? My mother calls it serendipity. We talked a lot about serendipity last weekend  - she prefers to think of it as God's hand.

Whatever it was, I am thankful for it. I am thankful for Annie, for her kindness and friendship over the past 30 years and for sharing her piece of heaven with us. 



Mum's coming home

We ate dinner outside on Father's Day. It was such a beautiful evening. Although it was after 8 p.m. by the time we actually sat down, it was still warm and pleasant. Even though it was Father's Day - Bill cooked. He prefers it that way. He made chicken parmigiana in his own style and  then "parmigianed" some huge Portobello mushrooms. OH MY GOD, they were delicious. Emma had driven home from a weekend in Toronto  (she's still looking for a suitable apartment) and was anxious to tell us her tales of woe while being rejuvenated by Bill's cooking.

Even our neighbors were outside and we tried (not very hard) to keep our voices down so we wouldn't disturb them. We tend to get boisterous when the four of us eat together. Especially as we re-enacted some of the cruder scenes from "Curb your Enthusiasm". Will and I had seen Jerry Seinfeld on Friday night at Shea's and we were remarking about how easily Jerry can keep his stand-up material so clean. Yet, Larry David's show can be so raw on HBO.

Bill commented that he was looking forward to the return of my mother for the summer. My mother loves Bill's cooking and  heaps praise and unconditional love upon him. He totally grooves on that level of affection. We all said that we would have to "curb our enthusiasm" for ruder jokes and keep the swearing to a minimum at dinner. Mum doesn't like swearing very much but, she never reprimands us. She also thinks that the three of us are way too hard on Bill. The three of us, however, think we are the only people who can keep him in line. If it weren't for us, he would be OUT OF CONTROL.

Will looks forward to Mum's visit because she makes him laugh with her incredibly inane stories of people he doesn't know. Plus, they garden together and Mum teaches Will about mulch and proper planting techniques and the benefits of peat moss. Even though Will can be annoying at times, Mum overlooks all of his idiosyncrasies and slovenly habits. He can do no wrong in her eyes.

Emma adores her Nana and has promised to take care of her when she starts to slow down. The two of them have a secret pact, I believe. Just yesterday, Mum sent Emma an article about the resurgence of the Roller Derby league in the Sarasota area. I guess she wants her to know that she can keep busy once she moves in with her.

I love it when Mum comes home. I don't have to worry about her when she is with us. When she's in Florida, I talk to her everyday on the phone... and when I can't get her to answer I always try to quell the panic in my stomach. It's stupid, really. She has a thousand friends and a million clubs and volunteer activities so its natural for her (a) not to be home and/or (b) not pick up her cell phone. She is of the opinion that her cell phone is for OUTGOING calls from HER - and she is not inclined to answer any INCOMING calls.

So tomorrow night when she wings her way up on US AIR , stopping for an hour in Charlotte (her favorite US Air hub) we will all be anxiously awaiting her return. Will will crush her with one of his man hugs, Emma will worm in there with a long hug of her own (they are the same height and get and give the best hugs to each other), I'll squeeze her tight and make her a drink and Bill will proffer his cheek for a kiss. But, it's he who will be happiest for her return.

Derby Queens

Last night Emma and I went up to Toronto via the Queen Elizabeth Highway (the QEW) for two reasons: (1) to look at an apartment for rent and (2) for derby practice - for Emma not me.

Emma had spent last weekend looking at a whole bunch of potential homes (she wants to leave her current apartment) and she had narrowed it down to one. She wanted me to give it final approval (especially since the landlord preferred if I co-signed the lease). We left work at 5:30 p.m., sailed up the QEW to Toronto and arrived at her 'future abode' in plenty of time.  We cooled our heels on the curb for about 20 minutes, watching the passing traffic (foot, bike and car) and assessed the rhythm of the neighborhood. So far, so good.

We met the landlord at 7:45 p.m. and I put an hour's worth of coinage into the meter.

We left in under 15 minutes.

This place was a dump. I have no idea why Emma originally thought this would work for her. Good Grief! And the woman wanted $1450 a month. That's FOURTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. I would have committed suicide within the week if I had to live there. Emma's excuse was that she had originally looked at it during a torrential downpour and it had felt "cozy". Last night at 8:00 p.m it felt claustrophobic and filthy. The current tenants had thoughtfully left a large plastic bag of rotting apples in the kitchen. Maybe they didn't want to move and were trying to sabotage the move, but the odor, coupled with the closeness and lack of natural light accelerated my descent back down to the front door.  I couldn't wait to leave. Emma could tell by my overly polite manner and raised eyebrow that I was nixing this place. Ugh.

We left the apartment and headed up to the Downsview hangar ( a semi abandoned Canadian air force facility) where Emma's derby girls had a scrimmage scheduled. On the way north Emma vented her frustration about house hunting and wondered if allowing me to have a veto was the right decision. She was torqued - to put it mildly.

She strode into the old Downsview hangar with an attitude that I would describe as  'pissed' - only to be met by about 20 rough and tumble roller girls suiting up for practice. Let me draw you a picture of the scene:

• A hangar from WWII  with a painted track on the floor. The floor was sticky. 
• The stench of millions of previous athletes trapped in the rafters. The smell was only slightly better than the rotting apples we had left downtown.
• The temperature was a good 10 degrees hotter inside then outside despite the fact that the huge airplane doors were wide open. And, it was a hot night. 
• Scantily clad girls racing around a track - shouting instructions and encouragement and trash talking the other team.
• A dull roar from other parts of the hangar where soccer, street hockey and lacrosse were simultaneously being played.

Emma mixed in with the roller girls and, two hours later, emerged drenched, drained and HAPPY! She got in the car and said  "I am so over this apartment - that was the right decision".  Endorphins are a wonderful drug!

We left practice, got on the QEW and sailed back home. Emma was driving and was coming off the high of working out with the girls. All was right with the world... until we got to the Ford plant in Oakville. All 4 lanes came to an abrupt halt. Construction at midnight had begun and we were in the midst of it. It took us 1 hour to travel 1 mile as the 4 lanes were forced to merge into one.

Uncharacteristically, Emma and I did not swear and gnash our teeth. Instead, we laughed and joked and told stories while we inched our way forward. And, a lot of the stories were about Bill. We both know him so well that we can tell stories in short-hand and laugh without really finishing our thoughts. We were probably a little punchy since it was so late and we'd had an emotional evening. But,  we made the best of a bad situation.
 It was kind of like waiting in line at Tim Horton's .... without the promise of coffee. The payoff was the time we were spending together.

Stop and smell the coffee

Saturday morning I went to the farmer's market in Williamsville. It's a small market, set at the foot of Spring Street -  down by the old red mill. There isn't a lot of produce for sale yet, since it is the beginning of the growing season, but I wanted to go because it makes me feel good to buy locally. And, my friend Nancy called me the night before to remind me that I had promised to go.

Nancy is very good for me. She's much more relaxed and easy going even though she juggles a lot of stuff. Here's an perfect example of how we differ:

"Where shall we get coffee?" I asked as she got into my car.

"Well, we could go back to Panera's (where we usually meet for coffee on Saturday mornings), or we could stop in at Coffee Culture at the top of Spring Street, or we could do the drive through at Tim Horton's."  Nancy offered all three options.

"What is your very favorite coffee?" In my head I was chanting : say Tim Horton's, say Tim Horton's, say Tim Horton's.

"I think I really prefer Tim Horton's ... don't you?"

 SCORE one for Liz! Another reason why I love Nancy.

"OK"  I said. " Let's see how the line is at the drive through and we can decide." Tim Horton's that was on the way to the market is one of the busiest, if not THE busiest Tim Horton's in the area. It's right next to a thruway exit and in a fairly upscale strip mall. Invariably, there is a line.  

Nancy gave me a quizzical look.

"What does the size of the line matter? We aren't in a hurry".

I pondered that one for the rest of the day.

To me, the size of the line is the premier question - no matter what. I don't care if I have 2 minutes to live or if I have all the time in the world. I refuse to waste my time in a line.

Nancy, on the other hand, feels that the coffee decision was already made. We agreed about the coffee and there was nothing more to decide. Plus, we didn't have a deadline. I just cannot get my brain around to that point of view.

Which brings me to my poll at the side of this blog. Please answer honestly.

Is there something wrong with me? Am I a product of my over scheduled time? Or, do I need to spend more time in a yoga studio? Will I change my ways when I retire and I have more 'free time'? ( I doubt it). Luckily, Bill and I have the same temperament when it comes to lines and minimizing down time. I'm not sure I was always like this and I can bet you that Bill has influenced me greatly when it comes to "saving time".

 

But, back to Nancy. The purpose of the trip to the market really wasn't about the vegetables - it was about spending time with Nancy - whether in the car waiting for the large coffee with double cream, or checking out the basil plants.  How much time we spent waiting for coffee was completely irrelevant.  

So after pondering that mindset the rest of the day I realized that I must make an effort to stop and breathe.

But, I sure as hell am not going to do it in theTim Horton's line.