When a KISS is not a KISS

The Kiss (Lovers) was painted by the Austrian Symbolist painter Gustav Klimt between 1907 and 1908, the highpoint of his "Golden Period", when he painted a number of works in a similar gilded style. A perfect square, the canvas depicts a couple embracing, their bodies entwined in elaborate robes decorated in a style influenced by both linear constructs of the contemporary Art Nouveau style and the organic forms of the earlier Arts and Crafts movement. The work is composed of oil paint with applied layers of gold leaf, an aspect that gives it its strikingly modern, yet evocative appearance. The painting is now in the Österreichische Galerie Belvedere museum in the Belvedere palace, Vienna, and is widely considered a masterpiece of the early modern period. It is a symbol of Vienna Jugendstil—Viennese Art Nouveau—and is considered Klimt's most popular work.^[2]

Ahhhh, the kiss.  How fitting to begin meanderings about kissing for Valentines Day.  As a matter of fact, I do have a reproduction in my home and it is a favorite.  It sits outside our master bedroom, a subtle reminder of how wonderful the right kiss transcends love and validates "the one".

How you feel when you kiss ?

According to Psychology Today, one hypothesis is that the kiss has evolved as a mechanism for gathering information about potential sexual partners. A kiss brings us into close physical proximity with the other, close enough to smell and taste them. The face area is rich with glands secreting chemicals that carry genetic and immunological information. Our saliva carries hormonal messages. A person's breath, as well as the taste of their lips and the feel of their teeth, signals things about their health and hygiene, and thus their procreative suitability. 

Another hypothesis claims that the kiss functions primarily on the level of psychology, as a way to express and reinforce feelings of trust, closeness, and intimacy with another.

A kiss can seal the deal.

One thing I'm always thankful is having a position of trust with my girls.  As a mother, you have to guard the sacredness of having a relationship with your daughter in which she turns to you in moments of elation and devastation.  One can only hope that you can share her peak times and times of excitement.

In our home, it usually started with "I met a boy...." and would move on to the enrapture and description a daughter would go on to share in confidence while she would be exuberant with excitement and possibilities.

Imparting with excitement, as confidences go, I would be allowed into the secret world that women share when they are optimistic over the possibilities of meeting a great guy.

Of course, I would want to hear the details if she would feel comfortable sharing.  There is always a common thread in my line of questioning:

* how did they meet?

* was it a random meeting or among friends?

* did he treat her with respect?

* what did he do?

* were they drinking, at a club or a party?

* what did he do? (student, job, career?)

* where is he from? 

* how did his kiss make her feel?

Time does have a way of sorting out whether it was the joyfulness of being young, flirting, and being beautiful to the opposite sex.  Bias aside, all three of my girls are beautiful, unique to themselves, wired differently.  

Having external beauty and inner beauty is something I am always reinforcing to them.  I have always gone on about the fact that you can be beautiful on the outside, but your character is inner self is what exudes true beauty.  

They're all quite different and what is important to each is unique.  Yet with each one, I have asked:  "How do you feel when he kisses you?"  As though that is the secret to passion, life and longevity in relationships.

Movies have forever portrayed a swooning, toe curling kiss with fireworks to mean that you have found heaven with that connection.  It may not be as dramatic as all that.  

There is something to be said on whether it leaves one warm, safe, shared intimacy of that singular exchange.  Whether it holds the promise of discovery.  

I'm not talking about a saliva-sucking physical reaction of the moment that fools many unsuspecting ladies to think that the energy is a signal to yield all.

Nor does a friendly hug and peck depict anything other than just that.  More than a regular friend but not the deep connection that can be communicated by something as simple as a kiss.

A kiss can tell you whether he will guard your heart and not trample on it.  It can convey that he may be just as enraptured as you, while just as nervous of exposing his own heart and vulnerabilities.

A kiss is symbolic.

Many women who have been married for a while or for years can often reminisce about that first kiss:  how they felt, how they knew something was spectacularly special, that the exchange was deeply meaningful holding promise, some would say that it told them of a future with this person.

There are famous kisses that have withstood the test of time, even if the relationship was fleeting. The images rarely portray the feelings I've described or experts depict.  Nevertheless, they remain as timeless as the moment they were captured:

Image source:  New York Post

In August 1945, George Mendonsa was 22 years old, a Navy quartermaster on leave from the Pacific theater. He’d dropped out of school at 16 and worked with his dad, a commercial fisherman, in Rhode Island, enlisting in the Navy after the attack on Pearl Harbor: 

So on this joyous and unbelievable afternoon, George  grabbed the first nurse he saw, spun her around, dipped her and kissed her. 

The kiss did kind of bother someone else, though: the woman in the nurse’s uniform, Greta Zimmer, who wasn’t even a nurse. She was a 21-year-old dental assistant from Queens, who, having heard rumors about the end of the war, walked over to Times Square from her office on Lexington Avenue. George says he was so drunk, he doesn’t even remember the kiss. Greta says she’ll never forget it.

Greta Zimmer was born and raised in Austria, and in 1939, after much debate, her parents insisted that Greta and her two sisters flee to America. They were among the last refugees to make it out, and even on the afternoon of Aug. 14, as Greta read the illuminated news crawl declaring the end of the war, she had no idea where her parents were, or if they were even alive.

Charlie Chaplin and Edna Purviance in Behind the Scenes, 1916

Clark Gable and Jean Harlow in Red Dust, 1932

Clark Gabel and Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind 1939

Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in From Here to Eternity 1953 

Disney's Lady and the Tramp, 1955

Breakfast at Tiffany's kiss with George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn, 1961

Great love story: Elizabeth Taylor & Richard Burton Cleopatra, 1963

John Lenon and Yoko Ono 1971

Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia ~ Star Wars 1977

John Travolta and Olivia Newton John in Grease 1978

Dirty Dancing starred Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swaze, 1987

Ghost with Demi Moore and Patric Swatze, 1990

Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet in The Titanic 1997

Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling in The Notebook 2004

Madonna kisses Britney Spears during the 2003 MTV Video Awards

There you have it:  some famous and infamous kisses ~ some we may remember while others we may want to forget.  Most of the movies are favorites and come recommended as worth watching.

Regardless of who you may be kissing this Valentines:  make it memorable!

Lil bit of attitude

"Oh, my, this one has attitude!" exclamed the delivery nurse.  Who may have been saying "here's another one" to the tired, adrenaline-rushed parents of this newborn creation ..... of theirs.

 A mixture of disbelief and amazement as this gaze upon this near perfect little human girl.  Minutes from being in a warm, comfortable womb.  Indignant at the harsh introduction she hadn't anticipated she let out a howl.

This little beauty grew and grew:  and sang "take me out to the Ball Game" at a mere 16 months.  As a party favor, she blasted through the adults polite conversation, as their jaws dropped and gaped open at a special experience unfolded.  Discussion began.  How amazing is it that a little burst of energy could sing to the rafters, in such abandon, glorying in the musical flutes her own tonsils gave. Oblivious to the expressions of anyone around her.  She liked bursting out and singing.  Her abandon to anything akin to self-conscious expression.  The audience crossed between envy and awe.  How could such a little thing stand up, be so proud, and sing with such abandon?  At ONLY 16 months.

The parents who were always ready with a video camera were stunned into inaction.  The musical notes combined with gusto and self-exuberance.  How could they have created such a ... umm... creature?  Alas, it was a daughter.  They should have had their seat belts tightened.  Yet they didn't do anything. Why should they?  They weren't puppeteers, merely creators.  

They wondered, however, how can they take credit for such a beauty with such a powerful voice? 

As the little girl developed and continued to grow became as ever a sight to behold.  At 2, this confident, clever,  creation would insist that she was a princess.  Her hard-working mother and father fascinated, would wonder:  how could a princess be born and insist she was one.  They  were, although not average folk, wondered how they could be responsible for this envisioned little lady?  

Then, one day, when the father was away at work, slagging dragons called life and career, the mother bent over a captive keyboard for job.  A nanny, on call, living out, ever present, vacuuming the castle always to shine, was focussed on leaving a tread in the carpet, hadn't noticed her charge, who had transformed into an escapee to her mother's home office.  Sneaking in, quietly, taking and absorbing every last detail.  Alas, the mother noticed the scamp in her midst.  The little joy did ask: "Mommy, what are you doing?"

Lest the mother cause disillusionment of the responsibility of working and career, she tenderly said:  "I am working.  When you grown up, you will likely work too.  What is it that you think you'll do too?

The predictable reply did unfold "why, when I am grown up, I will be a princess!" Said with such convincement, less mortal men or mothers would never argue.  However, the mother did sigh.  She then glanced around, realizing that the King was not home nor was the princess' guard on command.

She did try to dispell the disillusionment which chance had burst, said to her darling daughter with such thirst, for life, for dreams, goals and confidence:  "why Sweetie, you will be princess when I am a queen!"  Rationalizing that being realistic of drastic importance.

Then to her utter dismay her daughter did respond:  "Why mommy, I didn't know that you were a queen!!"

The days grew onwards and upward the girl grew, when tragedy did brew.  The media, the news, the television, no matter how one flew, protested the death of a princess many thought they knew.

When dinner one day, was being prepared by her mother.  As the news and the television broadcast the cover:  A princess died while so many fed .. on the photos, paparazzi with the princess photos they led.  How sad to have such a wonderful soul cut short, would end up causing this young four-year-old lady to retort:  "That is so sad to hear about the princess."

The mother, astonished, that this little girl wisdom, attuned to the news and the stories that bloomed.  She asked her daughter, in parenting skills on high alert, how do you feel about this story?  The daughter said "Sad".  The mother now curious, nowhere near mad.  Asked her little one why would she say so.  When the gem said "well, I am a princess, so this one I should know".

This is a reflection of a mother, rediscovering the journey she started with her daughter.  She has just turned 23, in second year of university, dedicated to  fine arts, art history and philanthropy.  

A mother's pride never diminishes with age.  If anything, it flourishes as cheerleading captain of her daughter's journey.  

Happy Birthday sweet, beautiful daughter O mine.

Footprints in the soil

I was first given the gift of the poem "Footprints in the sand" when I left a company with many friends, advocates and supporters about 15 years ago.  It was the image from the same poem.  Not long after, this poem was chosen by my mother-in-law for the keepsake for a man whom she had been married to for 40 plus years as her farewell gift of love:

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking
along the beach with the Lord
Many scenes from my life flashed 
across the sky.  In each scene I
noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of
footprints, other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed in low
periods of my life, when I was suffering
from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could
only see one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord: "You promised me
Lord that if I followed you, you would
walk with me always.  But I noticed that
in my most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints
in the sand.  Why, when I needed you most
have you not been there for me? 
The Lord replied: The years you have only
seen one set of footprints, my child,
is when I have carried you."

How lucky and amazing it is that one's farewell in unique circumstances and miles apart were given as a gift, as a send off to someone beloved or held dear.

I was thinking,  how lucky one is when there is someone who wants to follow in their own unique path, with the imprint of your wisdom imparted to them.  Really, footprints in the soil.

The soil, because of the wisdom can become deeply rooted in the receiver's philosophy to bloom at times of despair, discouragement and perhaps depression.  We dig deep to find the wisdom of those before us to provide inspiration when we are grasping at something that we are unaware, yet desperately seeking. 

How lucky one is to have someone who seeks your advice and an ear to listen as they sort out their feelings, their goals and struggling for a path or confirmation we are on the right one.  We all wonder.  We all seek guidance.

As we grasp for understanding for what unsettles us, we are seeking that one person who can understand our restlessness.  Fortunate are those who find that person, whether it is a parent, a friend, a sibling, a mentor, spiritual guider or willing advisor.

When we realize that there is someone reaching out to grasp your hand to guide you upon  self reflection and seeking understanding.  Some people don't have that gift to receive.  Others, don't appreciate that they have that gift to give.

Recognize that you have had agony, frustration and strongly desire to extend that guidance.  When it is before you, take it.  Similarly, don't disregard the kind words of encouragement or discredit the accolades that person extends to you.  Remember you are not in the best frame of mind or self-belief.  They may not be bias by love, but objective in understanding.  You just may need those words of encouragement when you find yourself at the bottom of the valley with a mountain of optimism before you that you cannot climb on your own.

Help others plant themselves in the soil of your wisdom.  Don't force upon them your passion for wanting them to avoid the same pitfalls you have found yourself in.  That exuberance may alienate the opportunity for them to absorb your wish for them to avoid the same pain you have experienced.  They have to be willing and accepting of your inspiration.  They will not accept any words of encouragement until they are willing to embrace them.  You may need to repeat those words more than once until they can see it for themselves.

Frustrating as that may seem, the want to clear the soil so that optimism may bloom, patience may be needed.  Hold on dearly to their need to reach out as a small bud would in soil.  You can nurture that need and wet their appetite to your desire to help them bloom.  Reach their fullest potential.  

You cannot force them to see.  No matter how hard you try.  No matter how much you want to help them avoid the pain that you have had.  They will only accept the advice when they are open to it.

Don't take it as disappointment or a sign that your experience isn't worth listening to.  Understand that it will sprout and bloom on its own accord and in its own time.   Sometimes it is delayed, sometimes immediate.  You nor them can bend it to your will.  It happens at the right time.

Yes, you see the flower that is before your eyes. It may be that the flower does not see itself as such because it is merely a sprout and cannot see the beauty that is unfolding.

Patience is wisdom.  Understanding is enlightenment.  When they both meet, wonders can happen.

Neither can embrace it or help it to be without understanding the other's role in footprints in the soil.

Be thankful that you have someone seeking your guidance.  Appreciate that you have someone whom you can reveal your deepest desire for them to reach their maximum potential.  Together, you can uncover what may be hidden in a seed.  Ready to bloom.  Likely to flourish.

"Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind.  To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue."
                                                                                        ~Buddha

Lest we forget .... or NOT

Happy Remembrance Day to my fellow Canadians and anyone else who takes the time today to honor the bravery of all soldiers who fight for freedom and peace.

My father passed away 5 years ago and up to his last breath, was proud of who he represented, after 35 years with the Canadian Armed Forces. In our home, we were unable to forget.

Lt.-Col. John McCrae, author of the famous poem 'In Flanders Fields,' wrote the iconic work after the death of a friend during the second battle of Ypres in the spring of 1915. (National Archives of Canada/Canadian Press) SOURCE CBC Canada 

This year marks the 100th Anniversary of one of the most well known poems "In Flanders Field" by Lt-Col John McCrae.  

The poem is a poignant reminder to us.  If not for the bravery of many men and women, our lives would not be the same today.  It reminds us that those people were brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who gave up their lives for others.

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

in Flanders Field.

In peacetime, we can all assume that the life of our military personnel are laid back, living day to day in simplicity and beyond the toils of having a corporate or artistic path.  Yet, those who are given glimpses, with guarded privacy and confidential, there were and are still many who are sent on missions or tasks to uphold our freedom.  They are not heralded as heroes and are obscure from the media eye that they too have done much to keep the evils of war at bay.  Our safety taken for granted.

These same men and women should also be honored because they are behind the scenes to keep us safe daily.  A day like Remembrance Day should also celebrate those who are never credited for what they encounter, what they do, in order to keep our lives safe and carefree.  

As the daughter of my father, I know he went away for days, weeks or even months on assignment.  It was the way of life, without questioning why.  Unlike those who drive into an office, maybe work late, and come home at the end of their day, our military is often tasked with going away to do exercises, safety missions and peacekeeping.  Some don't come home.  They are a statistic and number who don't come home.   Only the family and loved ones left to grieve.  While politicians, media may have a glimpse of their bravery, they often go unheralded for what they continue to represent.

I am not minimizing the cause or bravery that stemmed the poignant poem of "Flanders Field".  I just want to acknowledge and pay tribute that there are far more unofficial acts of bravery that go unnoticed, while we contently live our lives in the arrogance of safety.  Sometimes, there is a mention by name, but more often grouped in a category that doesn't distinguish them from what they contribute, or the sacrifices their families encounter.  

My skin crawls and the back of my hair stands up whenever someone wants to call me an "Army Brat".  I find it distasteful and disrespectful to what my father had done.  In his twilight years, he wanted to exorcise his memories and told us more stories of his life than we could possibly have known.  The burden my mother had, raising four kids, primarily alone.  My father's return quiet, unassuming and without fanfare.  It was a way of life.  Not anything I would have given up.  I owe it to my father, to celebrate his contribution to our peaceful world.

I love you dad.  I still miss you.  You have not been forgotten.

Advocacy for education

Education is a right for every child in our hemisphere.  In my opinion, it evens the playing field.  We are often reminded by great achievements by those who climbed out of despair, poverty or abuse to rise out of the shambles.  Education has a way of doing that.  It is something that we perhaps take for granted.

I often volunteer to help kids in education.  For almost three years I have been volunteering for Junior Achievement, where one is armed with teaching aids, representing major companies in the community as a way of giving back.  The skills covered are economics, budgeting, finance, credit, applying for jobs, understanding expenses and so on.  As volunteers, we are also setting positive examples for kids aged 14 and 15.  

I have also volunteered to prepare and distribute lunches to kids in an elementary school with demographics that show much lower than average household finances.  This was under United Way, another great organization that helps the community thrive.

Recently, our organization, did a fundraiser within our department about a month ago under the charity Stephen's Backpacks  It was set up as a contest among about 10 teams of about 13 individuals on each.  Basically, we were given two backpacks and filled it up with supplies for students, given suggestions by breakdown by group of elementary, junior high and high school (as needs vary).  As our social prime, we also raised funds, some donated filled backpacks, others supplies and others money.  It was a worthwhile cause, helping kids in education.  It helped build team work.  Sprinkled with a little competitive spirit to make it charged.   

I grew up with advocacy for education.  My parents gave each of us the opportunity to go beyond high school to post secondary education.  I was the only one of four to take advantage of it.  It wasn't always easy.  Sure, my tuition, housing was covered while I had to become innovative to get food.  I ended up volunteering on the Yearbook Staff, then moved into the Student Union as its Secretary.  Part of the reward was monthly meetings and afterwards a paid dinner at the cafeteria.  I also was a Floor Senior in the Students' Residence.  There must have been a free meal in their somewhere.  Both allowed me to attend social events for free, and there must have been free food in there as well.  I worked part time for a while but the hours of 5pm to 2am didn't always compliment getting up for 8am classes.  

I am thrilled that my second youngest daughter is attending University.  Her father had tried to take her to the Armed Forces recruitment office to subsidize her education.  I advocated her to follow her passion and dreams.  Both her father and I contributed towards an education fund the moment all three of our children were born.  It certainly helps today.  My daughter says that she knows how lucky she is to be getting an education without the cloud of graduating with massive debt.  She took a gap year off, traveled a lot, played competitive soccer and partied some.  I was always nervous that she would get too used to money and put off going back to school.  

I surveyed lots of friends and associates on the matter.  Was a gap year wise?  Looking back, I can see why she did do it.  She is a January baby, very articulate early, starting preschool in French emersion at age 3.  It wasn't playschool it was PREschool.  Then, she was a year younger at graduation than most of her classmates.  I understand she needed a break before she buckled down and went to school.  She took the time to explore her interests and decided on Fine Arts.  That was after Marine Biology, Meteorology, etc.  

What kids have today in some of the schools is career planning early.  Taking quizzes and skills tests to cross reference attributes with career paths.  She was advised to be a stock broker, given the reason that she was in strong in math and had personal integrity and honesty.  Her dad would have done back flips since he had taken the Canadian Securities Course from interest and built knowledge for investing.

My stepdaughter was all set on going into nursing from the time I met her.  She started work as soon as she could and glided from that into a strong position with a strong organization that provides ongoing on the job training which is not the same as a post secondary education.  We can foresee her working her way up as she has already moved upwards a fair bit for someone her age.  

Our youngest has moved cities, expanded herself and spread her wings.  She is starting to say that she has started to settle on an education direction now.  Communications.  I hope she does.  At least I've learned that they have to make the decision themselves even if the expectation is deep rooted and money set aside.  

The best thing we did, was start from the get go with an education fund.  It allowed the opportunity to always be there to back up the encouragement.  Their father and I met at college but didn't graduate with student loans.  

In the long run.  Education is the distinguishing factor that can set anyone apart.  It takes sacrifice, discipline and intelligence to start and continue.  If our governments really wanted to avoid political positioning by playing with education, they would encourage parent or organization finance for post secondary education for all.  

I understand that many US citizens consider the government paying for things like education and health means gravitating towards a socialist state.  I'd say, put your paranoia aside, it doesn't have to mean you're on the brink of communism.  It simply means that you are investing in your future.  Your children.  Their education.  A better chance of survival and financial security than some of their parents.  Educated households, I would imagine, statistically have less abuse of drugs, alcohol or domestic violence.  

We can break the chain of disfunction by protecting all of our futures by investing in our children's education.  

Politics: An open classroom

Are you like me -- tired of the nonstop theatrics by politicians from both sides of the border?  It is going to go on for a lot longer.  I am embarrassed for some of the candidates' blunders from either country.

As a Canadian, many of us pay attention to both sides of the border.  Sometimes, I have to admit that the US Republican Party volley for power is ten times more entertaining.  The stats support this.  CNN's airing of the debate hosted 20+ million American viewers while Canada's meagre 60,000 tuned into the Globe and Mail's debate.

Statistically, overall, those are not impressive numbers when you consider the population of America:  320 million compared to Canada:  36 million rounded up.  In either instance, the viewership was less than 10 percent.  With what is at stake:  economy, education, health, security - you'd think more would be tuned in.  Then again, thanks to the internet and social media, one can always catch up.  Even if it is skewed by those that are the loudest or tweet the most absurd.   

Does that mean that both countries citizens are apathetic?  Or, does it just mean that they're tired of hearing about Donald Trump and Justin Trudeau's theatrics?  I had a chuckle when I heard that someone tweeted that Canada needed a Prime Minister, not a rock star.  Granted, it appears obvious to me that Justin is appealing to the Millennials and The Donald is quite simply entertaining.  

It doesn't look great when we are merely being entertained when we should be considering who we should hand our futures to?



The nicest part, for me, on the cusp of two age distinctions, Generation X, 35-54 or 54+ Baby Boomers, was watching the debate with my 26 year-old son.  He represents the Millennials while my husband represent Generation X mostly.  We represent the smallest bubble of population, faced with security issues (both employment and terrorism) and financial woes (saving for retirement, paying for kids' education).

There were some major impressions that I got for Canada, and living in the oil-bust city of Calgary, is that our incumbent Prime Minister cannot be blamed for the oil recession in our midst.  We should be examining how the oil prices were driven lower before we start to point fingers.  It is a mistake that the other two debaters seem to be missing what is obvious to me.  I wonder if others think the same?  I'm undecided while wondering if I should support staying the course?  After all, the experts say that Harper's finesse comes from a background in economics.  That would seem to be a good enough reason to pay heed.  Personally, I'm not looking for handouts, I'm just looking for a brighter future.  That future looks like stability.  

On the other side of the border, I have an opinion because I'm aware that whatever happens there seems to impact us, whether we want to admit it or not.  Again, where I live is directly linked to the US because of our head office count cross-sectioned with Houston, Dallas, Texas.  A wise mentor long ago, when I was working for a US corporation, advised smartly, to anticipate what will happen in the future, you should keep an eye on the south, politics and Wall Street.  They have a habit of trickling over to us.  

The coolest part was having both my son and I agree on one thing:  Carly Fiorina was a stand out.  If I could vote right now, I'd be all in with her.  She stood steadfast, very poised, never waivered once.  She showed class and demonstrated tremendous leadership by staying on point, and understood her positions on many, if not all the issues, the others were jockeying position for.  

I'm not a feminist while I am a champion of strong examples for our young women to look up to.  I pulled from You Tube, the following example: 

Regardless of your political stance or views, tons can be gained from watching these debates.  You can decide what type of person you identify with, regardless of party or politics.   It is an open classroom for all to learn from.

Nutrition counts with age

“If you don’t take care of your body, where are you going to live?”  ~Unknown

The oddest thing happened.  When I got home last night, my husband pointed out a HUGE box of overflowing fruits and vegetables, saying they were sitting on our doorstep.

My first reaction was it would be my wonderful, nutritious-oriented daughter because we had talked about having a bake or make day -- try making pies or I'd show her how I make my popular bruschetta from the tomatoes I grew in my very own garden!  She was not responsible, however, didn't hesitate to say she'd swing by to pick up some.

There were two bags of different apples, a big bag of oranges, about 7 zucchini, more apples, about 50 kiwi -- it was amazing!

My second conspirator I thought of was my best friend who had just returned from Victoria after dropping her son off to begin his first year of university.  After exchanged texts this morning, I discovered it wasn't her.

Hmmmm, the plot thickens.  Who is our guardian angel or fairy godmother?  

What was so fascinating about this was I had just said at work, after a colleague shared pieces of heavenly nectarine, that I had been craving fruit but with my crazy schedule, hadn't made it to the grocery store.  I had it on my TO DO list for today, my first day and only day off for a week.

I haven't really talked about the fact that I had been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes a year and a half ago.  I keep it firmly in the closet, keeping it private.  Sadly, I took it hard and a sign that my youth and vitality may be failing and a sign of imperfection, almost embarrassment.

I worked with a dietician referred to by my doctor, who said that I already had the basics of a good diet that just needed tweaking.  Basically, like any good nutrition plan, you have to increase the amount of fruits and vegetables and scale down sugar (obviously) and surprisingly carbohydrates.  

Stress and lifestyle can also impact your health dramatically.  My job is shift work and it seems to have impacted my blood sugar levels.  Before, I would get up by 7am, have a yogurt with fruit or a muffin with my Metformin and then another pill with lunch of usually a sandwich full of veggies.

Unfortunately, my schedule is really off kilter.  I can work from 1pm to 9pm, then the next few days 10am to 6pm, followed by 12:30-8:30pm.  It doesn't lend itself to a diet routine.

I'm not stressed by any means.  My kids have all left home and are smoothly sailing into adulthood with one moved to Vancouver, employed, nice boyfriend and living with my brother, safe and sound.  My other is starting her second year of university, a little turbulent because she was working 3 jobs to help fund her love to travel.  My stepdaughter is into owning her own condo, engaged and to be married next summer.  I do worry about my son and his lifestyle, with alcohol as a companion, a bit more than I'd like.

Overall, life is pretty balanced.  I've doted on my garden with my best friend, Buddy by my side.  I've been decompressing with painting and self-expression by blogging.

BUT, the big BUT.  I can't fool the meter that tests my blood sugar.  It has been higher than normal for the past few weeks.  It stands out to me that it is my diet that is causing things to go amuck.  I realize that it takes discipline to have a routine on your eating, not just what you eat.  Surprising, but revealing.

I've known and been aware, that when you don't take the time to plan your menu or have the proper supply nearby, it is easy to lean on a greater amount of carbohydrates.  Those are an enemy of balance.  

It takes me an hour to get home, so it's peanut butter toast for dinner.  Not a whole lot of calories yet mostly carbs.

I still am going to go crazy wondering who dropped off this huge box of goodies?  Is there such a thing as a guardian angel?  Or is it my karma:  what I've been thinking and saying lately?

Regardless of its origins, it emphasizes how important one's routine AND nutritional balance is.  Not many of us have the wakeup call a diagnosis like Diabetes is to realize that we have to watch what we eat and take the extra effort on balance.  

My dietician emphasized that I have the misfortune of genetics against me.  My father had diabetes and so had my younger brother and older sister - so that compounded the likelihood.  As she pointed out, I was pretty good at recognizing and following a balanced diet.  Her best advice was to visualize my plate where the carbs are balanced by vegetables.  So it isn't like you are going without anything in particular, it is more about offsetting it with more vegetables.

It was like a wake up call, that when you hit 50, it is more than ever important.  What was further surprising, was that my older brother recently had been diagnosed.  Similar to us, he and his wife follow a pretty disciplined diet.  The curse of genetics fell on him too.  He doesn't know that I know, my mother told me so I would feel better.  

I hazard a guess that my brother took it the same way I did:  a stroke of misfortune that is taken with embarrassment.  Especially to those consciously watching what they eat, how much.  He plays hockey every week with guys half his age.  Heck, his wife makes his lunch every day because she knows he is a bit of a junk food junkie and if she didn't, he'd be going through a drive-thru every day.  

We're of a generation now where so many are baby boomers hitting their 60s.  I'm a fair ways off, yet the reminder hit me flat in the face.  If I want to continue to be the vibrant, energetic person I'm reputed to be, I will have to pull up my socks and put any excuses aside, forget the blame on genetics and just get to it.

I realized writing this that one very important matter is exercise:  with the shift work, it hasn't leant itself to my walks with my dog for exercise.  You know, what they keep saying balanced diet + exercise = health.

I may take care of my appearance, love fashion, proud of my newling garden skills, and emphasis on balance.  I have to admit that I've slid some and need to smarten up.  My life depends on it.

"The best doctor gives the least medicine."

~Benjamin Franklin

p.s. my neighbour, who was my next culprit on my list of thoughtful, caring people who would have possibly dropped the treasure trove of goodies off on my doorstep, just came by with her wonderful homemade apple jelly (positive karma again!) did not give us them.  The plot thickens.  She did say I could make kiwi jelly.  Time to get off to get some fresh basil to make some bruschetta.  I'll share the recipe later.  Good times, good eats, good friends.  Lucky me!

p.s.s. It turns out that the fruit came from my lovely daughter and fiance.  I had pondered with hubby, neighbour, other daughter (while I was going through process of elimination), after wracking my brain, considering my sister.  I did think of her and her fiance but strongly considered that they don't each much fruit.  Never striking me that they would have gotten the fruit from someone from work, and BECAUSE they don't eat fruit, they'd give it away.  It wasn't meant as a surprise.  They simply dropped it off on their way from work, meaning to text us or tell us next time. It was a wonderful, beautiful gesture cloaked in mystery, landing squarely on fits and giggles.  All good for the soul.