Help Yourself.

Thanks, Grandma. 

My life-long relationship with food? Dysfunctional. Someday we may delve into that topic. 

Anyway, current status? Complicated, and healthy-ish, but perhaps not in the (caloric) way you might be thinking. Let me explain.

A Gen X kid (aka 8/10 times without parents), I taught myself how to "cook" all the 70s-80s savory classics: mostly fish sticks, oven fries, KD, tuna casserole, chili, and other box/ package/ can-opener inspired meals. (I still firmly believe that most meals should be cooked in one pot and eaten as leftovers for days.) Except for rice-Krispie squares—marshmallows are fun to melt—childhood me never learned to cook anything sweet.

 

After years of attempting to feed my kids (no comparison to my wife's abilities), cut to becoming an empty-nester (about a decade ago). Equipped with more time, knowledge, and skills than childhood me, I decided to join that elusive club of people who made food others actually enjoyed. In most cases, people ate my culinary concoctions with more resignation than reverie. So, always a creative, I began to experiment. I failed. I succeeded. I learned how to make chocolate-chip cookies that are infinitely more popular than I am. 

And that's it. Insert record-scratch sound here. I perfected these cookies and that's all I made for years; it's still my go-to. I call my recipe, 'Small Cookies are Stupid,' because they are. 

But this taught me something more meaningful than recipes. Cooking sweets for others boosts my mental health. My cookies make people happy; happy is not my default mode, but making people happy? Pure dopamine. 

Cut to the pandemic. Remember those tragic and trying 24 months when most humans became more we-orientated than I-orientated? But then thanks to politics and social media 30% of humans went batshit? Sigh. Who didn't need extra dopamine during those days? So I mastered my Grandma's cupcake recipe. And gave them away again and again and again; I made them for my own birthday party this week. Why? Gifting cupcakes boosts my personal growth, and increases my life's purpose and meaning. It bolsters my self-acceptance. It lifts my heart too. In short, everyone is rewarded; IT'S A DOPAMINE PARTY!

Dear friends, happiness is fleeting. But mastering something simple and sharing it with others? Help yourself. 

Imagine a hammer.

Imagine a hammer. Now think history. What were the very first hammers like? What were they used for? To build up or to tear down? To bust or to beat? Although the modern hammer’s design is much improved, its function remains mostly the same. We can use a hammer two ways:

• constructively or
• destructively. 

I was quite young the first time I used a hammer. And despite my youth, immediately I knew the hammer's power: I could smash anything! Especially my fingers. I knew the frustration when I missed the nail yet again. After dropping the hammer on my toes, and off the side of a building under construction, I knew the true weight of a hammer. I know the exhaustion of using a sledge hammer and the satisfying way it cements things together. I know the power I wield swinging a hammer. But I was in my late 20s when a tradesman taught me precision: where to place my hand on the hammer's hand and to position my thumb on the back of the hammer to improve my aim; he essentially made the hammer and extension of my arm. There is always more to learn. 

It seems to me that there are plenty of lessons in a hammer. Perhaps the best is Abraham Maslow’s lesson. In his ground-breaking book about positive human psychology, he quite famously wrote, “I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.”

Everything in this complex world is not necessarily a nail. And we need not always choose the same tools. 

Maybe there’s a different way to think about things? Maybe ______ is not so simple? Maybe ______ is not so black and white? Maybe you haven't completely figured out ______? Maybe your toolbox is missing something? Think about history again. Our firmly held beliefs were false: the world was flat, doctors need not wash their hands, women should not have the right to vote, left-handedness should be "corrected." All these were once "common sense."  

Some people claim to have all the answers (and they often refer to it as common sense). I have always been wary of these people. No one knows all the answers. No one. Not you, nor I. Especially if all you have is a hammer. 

One more thing: this is not about hammers. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

🤯

Does the internet know about hot-dog pasta?

Probably. But I didn't. And I still don't (because I'm a baby and I didn't eat it). 

No judging (but kinda judging): IMO hot-dogs should only be coupled with buns and/or baked beans aka wieners and beans. 

Thoughts? 

Things one should never outgrow?

L😍

My grandson is almost two. His vocabulary? Incredible. He can sing the A-B-C song AND Bridge Over Troubled Waters, lol. 

I am not kidding. 

And then there's his enunciation. Impressive, but still developing. Here's what happened:

We were together on the back deck at his parent's home, just us, blowing bubbles and singing songs and reading books. In other words, doing what this toddler and this Grandpops enjoy doing together. 

Suddenly, he yelled, "MURDER!PSYCHO!" 

Startled, I asked, "What?!"

He repeated himself and pointed into the backyard, "MURDER!PSYCHO!" 

As I contemplated what might possibly be going through his mind, his 4-year old sister joined us on the deck from the backyard. Barely noticing her, I made eye-contact with my grandson; bewildered (yet also impressed), I asked him slowly, "L, are you saying murder psycho?"

Unconcerned and a bit slower, he repeated himself for me, "MURDER! PSYCHO!" Then his sister quickly translated, "motor cycle, Pops." 

Let me explain: his backyard is completely fenced in and set back safely from a fairly busy roadway, but louder vehicles occasionally disrupt the peace, especially his favourite vehicles. 

Days later, I am still laughing and I can't wait to enjoy a lifetime of hearing/mishearing his excited thoughts. 

Also this: when did we outgrow randomly yelling the names of things we love? I say my grandson can teach us all how to love life: ICE CREAM! GOLDEN HOUR! BOOKS! GRANDKIDS! DEMOCRACY! 🤣🤔

Things that deserve the stink-eye?

Our lovely river curves like a smile (and a wink). 

What's it like living in Northern Canada?

1. Cool winds are not unusual, even in May. Canadians know that if you wait for shorts weather, your patience will wither. (Just roll with it.) 

2. In 19/20 Canadian locations, the wilderness is rarely more than a five minute walk, in any direction. (Just get your boots on.)

3. Like all the countries I've visited (Italy, Greece, Scotland, and Ireland, to name a few), Northern Canada is just as beautiful as anywhere else in the world, but admittedly, a little rustic here and there. Example? Although our river is currently high enough to hide it, there's an old van (yes, a van*) under those ripples. (Just don't look too closely.) 

(Fl)awesomeness beats perfection. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*Thankfully, no one was hurt.

FOMO

Our precocious, fast-moving
youngest granddaughter, I. 

Although my grandchildren's personalities are unique (and in development), they all seem to display one common trait: FOMO. 

It's the reason they're so disarming. 

I love it when all three grandkids are together with us, but let's just say I am the JOMO to their FOMO. So when they wiggle their way into my lunch, my laptop, my life... I am summarily overwhelmed and yet also joyously powerless to resist them, similar to Elizabeth Olsen's vibe in this puppy interview, lol. I recall a comedian once remarking that he had no idea that parenting his first toddler would be similar to living with his university roommate if said roommate were drunk 24/7. To hell with boundaries, amirite?

Oh sure, I know how to to gently redirect and distract when necessary, for their safety, for their education, etc. etc.... but at this stage in my life I avoid imposing myself. Why? We earned it: grandparents often take advantage of the privilege to laugh about it and let their parents figure it out. But the real reason? These kids are the nervous system reboot I never knew I needed right now in my life; like the Grinch, they make my heart grow three sizes, minimum. 

Currently, my youngest granddaughter is the perfect age for this puppy-like pandemonium, so that's why I thought she needed to celebrate the way she jumps into life (and off the slide) with both feet; hence, she has her very own FOMO been-there, done-that, bought the t-shirt t-shirt.