Know when to hold 'em...

On Wednesday evening, June 25 I will be in the presence of seven women. All eager to learn all they can from me so they can then take those skills and apply them later in their own safe environment. Maybe with their husbands, loved ones – or both!

Now before anyone gets too excited, including TLATO, may I point out that this is a Texas Hold ’em Poker Night.

Once a year for the past several, I have willingly (?) offered my services to the Peterborough chapter of the Women’s Business Network auction. It’s all for charity. So one Wednesday evening late last year I once again went on the block – the auction block, that is. Women, professionals all, bid on many items that are offered during the course of the evening.

Years ago, my chiropractor, Cathy Owens, knew that I had a leaning towards games of chance, and asked if I would be interested in being offered as an item to be auctioned. That year they were not certain if the Fire Department were going to participate so I apparently was Plan B. Don’t think I have ever knowingly been any one’s Plan B before. Anyway, a group of women decided that they wanted to learn to play poker. Texas Hold ‘em.

The evening was a success and since then, I’ve been asked several times to participate. Like I said, it’s all for a good cause so what the heck.

You should see some of these women in action. Some have played cards before, bridge, Hearts and the like. Some have heard about Poker. Most are neophytes. After a couple of rounds of dummy hands, these women take off the gloves – literally and in some cases, it’s a take no prisoners game that ensues.

Last year one of the ladies was betting (it’s all in fun, no real money involved) large and a few players went along. “I’m all in!” First real hand of the evening and here we go. This was after the flop. There were still two more cards to be turned over. Politely I asked if those that were in, understood what was going on. That was, apparently, the wrong inquiry. “Deal the cards, Poker Boy!”

Now I do not recall the actual cards, but the turn was played and given that everyone was all in, no further betting could occur. That did not stop one or two sharks to inquire if side bets were kosher…

Did everyone understand what constituted a good hand? At the beginning of the evening I handed out small “cheat sheets” showing the best poker hands from a Royal Flush down to a pair. No one was consulting the cards.

The river was then played. Oddly enough the four women playing all smiled – not a poker face among them.

At this stage, there was some further good natured taunting going on. I had no idea really what might be going on since the board was showing nothing of consequence. “This should be interesting,” I thought.

So, in order, the foursome turned over their hole cards. One lady had three of a kind – not bad. Another had a full house. Better. The third proudly displayed another full house. Best. The fourth, the aggressive one who had initiated this mayhem asked if she had to show her cards. “If you’re holding the winning combination, absolutely!” “Well, in that case, I decline to show. I’ll fold”

The second full house won and we had our first casualty of the evening.

During a break, I asked this woman what she was doing? Beaming, she explained that she had watched a few games on television before our evening. She had always wanted to say, “All in!” So she did. She was the person that had actually bid on the evening months before and it had, by all accounts, not gone for a couple of dollars either.

Watching her observe for the rest of the evening, she had the broadest smile, the loudest laugh of all. This was fun. And all for a very good cause.

To her, it was worth it to see her friends enjoy an evening of cards. Friends who, under different circumstances might never have played poker. So everyone benefited all the way down the line.

I’ve found myself wondering today if she’ll be part of the group tomorrow evening or will someone else decide to pay it forward.

Royal Botanical Gardens...

Looking for something to do with the whole family or visitors from out of town? Consider a visit to an oasis in the city in Burlington, Ontario. The Royal Botanical Gardens. One of Ontario's best kept secrets! Enjoy another day in paradise...



Check out http://www.rbg.ca/ for a calendar of current events. Make plans to come this weekend - there's something for everyone. Come see for yourself.

Days like these...

As I scoot around our property on the old John Deere riding mower under the blazing sun and humidity this morning - thunderstorms predicted for later, don't you know - I'm reminded of the first time my dear old paternal grandmother came to visit Dad, Mum and the kids in Canada (Waterloo, Ontario) one August in the mid-70's.

Stepping off a charter flight from Prestwick, Scotland, she emerged in her finest tweed suit, and was quite unexpectedly gob-smacked by a veritable wall of searing heat and oppressive humidity; she exclaimed in her best south west-side of Glasgow accent, "Gosh, it's hot!"

To this day me, my brother, the 'Hood, even nieces and nephews exclaim this short, loaded-wilh-all-kinds-of-unspoken-meaning-phrase whenever the thermometer goes above 80 degrees.

It's our version of the Canadian vernacular, "Hot enough for you?"

Diamonds are a girl's best friend?

Perhaps. More likely, I believe, if you happen to fall into the S.A.T.C. gene pool - remember, there is only a shallow end.

Anyway, on an almost weekly basis, I'm often loudly reminded by TLATO that I'm most definitely not normal and that other men are not like me.

OK, so those statements opened up a few potential cans of worms, but for the record, in (mostly) those instances they come forth as a result of jewellery.

I'll explain. I have this "thing"; perhaps phobia would be more correct, although I think that's way too strong a word for it, about jewellery. This "thing" I've had for years - a fact that many, including the woman formerly known as Mrs. Taylor may attest.

Some of this may well seem odd, somewhat unusual - but to me, it's very real.

I cannot touch jewellery. I abhor the feel. There is an odour to it. I am not comfortable even looking at same.

If TLATO asks me to assist in helping her with putting on a bracelet, I'll grudgingly assist, but my fingers are wrapped in Kleenex. Don’t ask me to hand you earrings - they'll sit on a counter gathering dust forever as I walk on by albeit nonchalantly, but terrified, nonetheless.

I honestly do not recall how I managed to "survive" my wedding day(s). Really.

I do not wear a ring. I do not festoon myself with chains, medallions and the like. I have not worn a wristwatch in years. I do, however, wear a Medic Alert bracelet - don't ask me to touch it, or take it off, though; I believe that a layer of hair prevents the stainless steel from actually coming in direct contact with the skin on my wrist.

I'm not making this up. Ask Sheryl. Like I said, to me it's very real. To Sheryl, it's a constant sore point.

For her birthday this past spring, I presented Sheryl with a Tiffany-style bracelet in the ubiquitous Robin's egg blue box. The purchase was facilitated months beforehand by one of my sisters, Joanne, a.k.a. The Brooklin Bag Lady. At no time did I have to touch the piece.

Over the years I have bought TLATO other pieces of jewellery. I have perfected the point, the head nod and the ultimate credit card swipe – all without having to touch gold, silver, platinum, jewels and the like; Sheryl does not "miss out" on feminine-type baubles, so back off!

Am I nuts? A couple of fries short of a Happy Meal? Without question, I do have my moments. On this matter, I like to believe the jury is still out - and if I have anything to do or say about it, will never have an opportunity to regain entrance to this room to proffer their verdict!

Just an aside...

Watched an HBO movie last night on one of the movie channels here - "Recount"; the "tale" of what occurred during the 2000 Presidential election, focusing on the State of Florida and the debacle that ensued.

Like a car wreck, utterly fascinating and deplorable all at once.

While I may not be a fan or supporter of either individual involved, Al Gore and George W. Bush, the lengths to which both sides went to in the Fall and early winter of 2000 was mind boggling.

Just hearing and being reminded of some of what occurred still makes me shake my head in disbelief eight years later. There were 175,000 ballots just completely discounted and disqualified in that election. That's the size of a small city. One hundred and seventy-five thousand people got up that morning, went to their polls, thought really carefully about what they were doing, chose a candidate and then had their votes completely voided.

S.A.T.C. - part deux

Thanks to the abundance of "shlemmings" (an unusual hybrid beastie - part sheep, part lemming) in North America, it would appear that the above mentioned movie (it will never be described as a film) is on its way to grossing more than $ 100 million.

Do any of you out there have any idea what this means?

The social consequences of it all - there'll be a frickin' sequel...

Easy there, lunch, easy...

I can't wait. Product placement will be more innovative than usual. Aside from the to-be-expected and not-to-be-forgotten Geritol, manufacturers will be lining up to have their products front and centre. May I suggest Metamucil for the must have orange-flavored cocktail of the next decade, the Muciltini? Or Gold Bond medicated powder and cream to help with diaper rash from our lead marketer, the always fashionable and by now ubiquitous Depends? Seabond denture fixative to maintain that naturally phony Hollywood smile?

I could go one... but I won't, the wrath of TLATO notwithstanding.

Add your own products to the list.

The producers will thank you - no doubt all the way to the frickin' bank, laughing at the gullibility of a generation or two of women clinging to their dreams and sanity like the elastic waist band of their support hose...

Ouch! Stop that, Sheryl. That hurt.

One day at a time... part 2

An update...

Well it's almost 6 weeks since I made a concerted effort to lose one of my alter egos - Bitter Bob.

I have to admit it's not been especially easy but I'm trying very hard for the sake of relationships to continue down this path.

An interesting observation; while I'm thinking first before shooting my mouth off and damning the consequences, TLATO has evolved, on occasion, into a Poisonous Patricia.

Go figure...