Things that deserve the stink-eye:

If you live in Alberta or British Columbia, you might relate? I opened this virtual assistant at 19:15. Great service, eh? If you live elsewhere, I'm sure you have similar stories. I haven't used the Telus Babylon health services app, (and probably never will because, Telus) plus I'm hearing disturbing things. 

P.S. As I write this, I am still on hold with Telus (1 hour, 13 minutes...). Why access Telus both online & via phone simultaneously? This isn't my first Telus rodeo. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

even my car's message centre has started to sound as illiterate as Trump (rage-tweeting about everyone but Fox News).

As a Scot might say, he's a blethering
numpty eejit.

Versions

A big crappy chunk of parenting is not not being yourself but accessing another version of yourself, a hard-ass management version. Inevitably, it's necessary. Because raising adults (as opposed to raising children) is sometimes grueling yet critical both for personal well-being and society. Raising adults is super annoying too. And frustrating. Inevitably, there will be hard conversations. There will be lines drawn in the sand. And crossed. And crossed again.

Yet there is also compromise and negotiation and forgiveness too, all of which may feel painful for everyone involved. And of course it's sunnier too: there are birthday parties and vacations and board-game arguments to laugh about (eventually) and a million other funny-tender-soft moments knitted into a fabric more valuable than its design.

But sometimes it was so hard.

Sometimes I would step out of myself and watch us all dysfunction. We were trying to say hear me and listen to me. So were they. And I knew it wasn't working for any of us. Sometimes because what they said or did was so shockingly stupid. And sometimes because we were so confused about what to do. I would hear myself lecturing my teens and bubbling just underneath my frustration was

1. my irrational fears.
2. a startling cynicism.
3. that muffled nonsense Charlie Brown adult noise.

But let's be honest. My main point was this: I love you. I love you enough and you are important enough that I won't give up and I won't give in even though I soooooooooo want to. Truth: I did give up a few times; no parent gets through this parenting gig without regrets. If only the big picture, the long term perspective, were available when you need a lifeline.

Back then I wondered sometimes if my teens would ever really know me as anything but the asshole who napalmed their hastily defined fun. Would they ever realize I didn't enjoy tearing down that rickety scaffolding they called teenaged life goals? Would they ever be able to acknowledge that my heart was in the right place? Damaged but still beating, not so defiant anymore.

And then it's YEARS later and I forgot many of these events and yet something still lingered for a long time, sort of a melancholy, an ache. I did not dwell on it because I know that shame kills, both the giver and the receiver. And then one morning, my daughter (who lived in a University dorm 48 hours away at the time) texted me because she heard bagpipes, and thought of me.

What?! Me? She remembered I love bagpipes? I don't know how to tell you what that felt like.

Several years later now, our family functions again. There's more to learn, but the past is the past. My children made me a better man. I learned my lessons, so did they. Once again, we connect, we celebrate, we endeavor to become who we dream to be. It's a privilege many don't have. I'm not so naive anymore: I know there will be hard times again. Yet a tender core survived. I don't know where I read it: "thick skin like a rhinoceros, tender heart like a lamb."

Things one should never outgrow:

Tex

fetch.

This dog has energy! And it's tough. And it's relentlessly playful. And it stinks. And that orange ball is basically a petri dish six weeks into some harrowing experiment.

But come on, you can't not play fetch.

The Test

I was eating a pomegranate and after about thirty minutes of fighting with that lemony-sweet bag of deliciousness, I realized that eating a tangy, cold apple would have saved me A LOT of time. Pomegranates eh?

As the saying goes, “patience it taking too long.” So maybe patience is overrated? Sure, it improves mental health, relationships, and achieving goals, but if it’s so good for us, why is it so difficult? We need a patience hack. My research revealed a foolproof training strategy for mastering patience: “make yourself wait.”

Really? That’s it? That’s all you and I have to do? Not likely. Well I guess since I’ve been wrong about 2.8 million times before, I decided to test it.

1. So I made macaroni. I had to wait for that water to boil. It wasn’t that bad actually. I used self-talk but then I had to wait for it to cook too. Ugh.
2. So then I also picked the longer line at the grocery store. Brave, eh? BRUTAL. In fact, it didn’t even work because the cashier waved me over to the next check-out.
3. So then this: my wife ordered a very cool gift for me but it did not arrive in time. No worries; I decided to embrace this crime against me and go full chill. I simply wiped it from my mind. After a week, my wife tracked it online and shared that it’s en route. I continued in full chill mode. Everything was moving along swimmingly and I was learning loads of patience until we saw said gift advertised on TV. My wife tracked it again and discovered it has been in the same location for weeks. WHAT? Haven’t I endured enough? I demanded we call customer service and RAGE AGAINST THIS INJUSTICE but then we got distracted by the Food Network and forgot.
4. So I worked out for thirty minutes but still no abs. Sheesh.
5. So I also tested the theory this way: I texted my son. Yup, he REALLY supports my patience mission I guess.

In conclusion, this strategy is bunk. So what now? Let’s all resume instant gratification mode because I think that’s really working out for everyone. Right? 

Facts or Factish?

According to a variety of sources, 1 in 12 men and 1 in 200 women are colour-blind. Typically a genetic condition, there are several types of this “blindness.”  Some forms are mild, some severe such as those who see no colours at all, only greys. Most colour-blind people DO see colours although they are not fully able to “see” red, green or blue.

Think about that. Colour-blindness is a fact. And yet don’t we “regular-sighted” people tend to think red is a fact, green is a fact, blue is a fact. Maybe that’s not true? Even though 11/12 men could all point to red and 199/200 women could do the same, maybe colours can be opinions?

Colour-blindness is not considered a severe limitation; “sufferers” learn to adapt by using other cues such as labels, brightness, or location. Red/green colour blindness is the most common. The name is tricky because apparently, this doesn’t mean sufferers mix up red and green; instead, they struggle to distinguish colours which contain some red or green as part of the whole colour. For example, a red/green colour blind person will confuse a blue and a purple because they can’t ‘see’ the red element of the colour purple. One man described it this way: “most people would see 32 differently coloured crayons in a box; I see about 12.”

Think about that too. For some, 1 x 32 = 12 colours. Whoa. Maybe basic math isn’t factual either? 

This leads me to three conclusions:

1. Some so-called facts are actually fact-ish.
2. Therefore, it’s important to question "facts" (and their sources).
3. And it’s especially important to question facts even if you’re absolutely sure you know the facts because those have been the “facts” your entire life.

Here's my point: our judgment, our choices, our decisions, must be based on critical thinking. Sure, confirmation bias is way easier, but emotions aren’t facts. Perceptions aren’t facts. Opinions aren’t facts. Even some facts may only be fact-ish. Determine the truth based on a combination of evidence from several sources through observation, experience, evidence, analysis, reasoning, research, reflection, and so on. Otherwise, we may become colour-blinded people manipulated by those who insist their red is red and their green is green.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Um, ? I discovered this in the basement bathroom of the Rutherford Library at the University of Alberta. And I don't like it. At all. What's it for? Other than perhaps the perfect setting for a Stephen King story, like Sneakers?

Letter of Appreciation, Kinda

Dear Parents caring for other people’s adult children:

As you know, many parents have young adults who return home for summer. And yet, we rarely see them. Instead (whether you like it or not) you do.

Firstly, thank you. For feeding them. For cleaning up after them. For loaning them a couch. Speaking of surrogate-type parenting, thanks also to their employers. University/College is expensive and we are grateful they have these jobs. Plus we suspect that you employers are also good guides and mentors. However, unlike you, we cannot pay them to hang out with us (or at least we’d prefer not to).  Thus we are stuck with those rare sightings when they randomly return to shower, or drop off their laundry, recharge something, and then there was that one time when we made bacon and they suddenly appeared.

Sigh. Related to this, my wife and I request a small favour and we thank you in advance. Since you are more likely to encounter our kids, please share any or all of the following questions/reminders whenever you deem it appropriate:

1.  Hey you. I heard you have parents.

2.  And I know for a fact they have Wi-Fi.  

3.  Your parents want to know: what are your thoughts on

a.       Current events?

b.      That latest movies?

c.       Pluto’s adorable heart?

d.      Cheese? (All of the above, pretty much anything, they’re open.)

4.  If they cooked more bacon, would you go home?

5.  Would blackmail work? Because let’s be honest, they know A LOT about your past.

6.  Is another tattoo/piercing really necessary? (Throwing this in there, just in case.)

7.   I’m pretty sure tomorrow is Fathers/Mothers/Parents/Hug-Someone-Who-Shares-Your-DNA/Family Guilt Day.

8.  If a parent texts you in the forest, does it make a sound argument not to text back?

9.  Here’s a picture of your Mother weeping. 

10.  Get out. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

mosquitoes and the fine print on mosquito repellent products: "Mosquito Shield Citronella Candle" is "not intended to repel mosquitoes." What?

But I'm pretty sure this could work.

Things that deserve the stink-what?

Shit don't stink. Literally.

Poo-pourri? It's a thing. Seriously.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Dear Hotel Marketing Team,

Huh? What does this mean? And why is sledgehammer in parenthesis? And why 86-ft exactly? Despite using the word radius, I'm questioning your math. And maybe just say we apologize for the inconvenience instead of attempting a playful tone because this notice only enhances the level of annoying here. Better yet, here's an idea: scrap the dorky signs and offer a discount instead.

?

Also known as Mondays?

Wordfuse

Like morning breath, but my face. Just staring at me. Looking like I just smelled the worst fart ever. But no one farted. It's just the way my face wakes up in the morning now. All scrunched. The opposite of fresh. AKA get-off-my-lawn face. A total bummer. And it lasts all day. All. Day.

Sheesh.

Unexpected Sharpness

He left behind his best pair of shoes. (I know they're comfy because we're the same size.) She left behind almost everything. (One can only take so much on a plane but I'm happy she has her guitar.) Let's be honest though. What they mostly left behind is this: me.

That's why there's an unexpected sharpness today, a lonely sharpness. I knew it was coming but I'm always easily surprised. My children are grown and gone. One moved about 8 hours away, one moved about 48 hours away. And yes, they will be back: Thanksgiving, surely Christmas, probably next summer, I don't know.

That's the thing: I don't know.

For the past week I've been talking with myself about this but I haven't much been listening to my logic. I knew it was coming. My daughter has already had two years of university six hours away. This isn't really new. Yet the difference this time seems to be that both of them are gone. And that's what I don't know: as a parent, who am I and how do I cope if both of them go?

I don't have a choice. I have to let go. But that also means I can't protect them. I can't be in charge. I can't see their faces in the morning and at night and I remember in the early years, that was the best part. I can't read Harry Potter aloud at bedtime anymore. I can't sing We Three Kings every night. And I can't make burritos, one without onions, one with everything, both with avocado and just sit and listen and laugh and nag and argue and question and challenge and debate and laugh and just look at them and just enjoy family life every day because that was the routine for so long and I barely remember a time without that routine.

That's the other thing: I don't know the new routine.

Wow that sounds old and anal. But honestly, my wife and I have built this sturdy structure, a sort-of scaffolding and now construction isn't complete but we've certainly finished this phase. And I know this is just all my stupid selfish tender heart because I'm also equally excited for them to find their own paths. My own path led to much happiness: marriage, children, career. They've earned this. I want this for them.

Yet I don't quite know my own path now.

Friends help. They remind me of the times I couldn't wait for my teens to grow up and get lives and at times, stop being assholes. I'm also told these relationships will evolve in deeper ways. I hope so. But will that happen for sure? I don't know.

Here's what I do know though: they don't need me to pine for them. They need me to be what I've always tried to be: Dad. So, just like from the very beginning of my life with them, that's what I will figure out how to do and how to be and who to be in all the ways they need me to be.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

companies that attempt to connect with disenfranchised youth by glorifying dysfunction and greed and essentially exploit them.

Wordfuse (Rumour Edition)

Know the feeling?

For some people, gossip is so juicy, it gushes.

I miss when...

#highschoolgraduationday

my son was still a little boy.

Things that are most likely the devil?

Need a yeti? Source

In 2011, Time magazine did a comprehensive study on customer service satisfaction: it revealed that at least 1 in 2 people have a story to tell about their own personal customer service HELL. I have a new one but instead of leading me to hell it led me somewhere "colder."

Which of the following occurred when I recently called customer service after I discovered debit card fraud? (Spoiler: it’s all of them!)

a. Choose from among these six options.

b. Choose from among these four sub-options.

c. Remain on hold for 15 minutes. 

d. Informed that this office cannot help because they process only lost or stolen cards, not card fraud. Huh? 

e. Redirected to another office.

f.  Repeat.

g. New office can’t help either. Redirected back to the original office.

h. Repeat.

i. Original office wants to know: who gave me this number?

j. No words. Asked for supervisor. Similar "can't help" message. Told that only credit cards are processed through their service. Debit card can only be cancelled by bank. Bank closed. No emergency number. (Already knew that but still incredulous: not acceptable.) Respectfully asked the representative if HE would be ok with leaving  HIS bank account vulnerable to a criminal with a bogus version of HIS debit card accessing ATMs in New York all weekend. New flash: Nope. He wouldn't. But he still couldn't help. 

k. Cry out to the sky.

l. Phone random office numbers at bank branches like I’m playing Ding-Dong-Ditch.

m. Office closed, directed to voice mail.

n. Next. Repeat. Office closed, directed to voice mail.

o. Next. Repeat. Office closed, directed to voice mail. 

p. ALL OFFICES ON EARTH ARE NOW CLOSED. HELP ME, HELP ME, PLEASE.

q. Scotch.

r. Next. Repeat.

s. “Hello.”

t. Confused, momentarily forget why and whom I called.

u. Person revealed she is not officially at work but she will take care of the problem.

WHAT? YES! And that, my friends, is how I found the YETI of customer service! People: never give up. If you search hard enough, true customer service people really do exist.  

Things one should never outgrow:

lame puns.

(Can't stop loving them.)

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Should Toronto re-elect Rob Ford?