Liz Savino's Continuing Blog

  This is going to be a quick story. I read today that many of us are suffering from COVID fog because we are multi-tasking on different media platforms. I know I’ve been feeling like I’m not at the top of my game  lately. Searching for the right word, or forgetting what day it is…it’s a common occurrence. I worry that I’m going to forget all kinds of things. It’s one of the reasons I’m writing this blog - so I have a record. Today, I walked into my home office and I actually stopped to examine a document that’s been hanging on the wall for years. It’s one of those things that lawyers hang up to prove they are allowed to practice. Nobody reads it. But, today I actually looked at the signature line and saw M. Dolores Denman’s name. She was the (then) presiding Justice of the Appellate Division of the NY State Supreme Court. She was an inspiration to many, many lawyers and she received countless awards in recognition of her work. But, I admired her because I knew that she ...

I had the best job when I was in university. For three summers in a row, I worked on the Trent Severn Waterway as a lock person. The waterway connects Lake Ontario with Lake Huron and is a destination for many vacationers in Ontario. If you haven’t taken a trip along the waterway, I highly recommend it. I was one of very few women who were hired back in the early 80s – so I was a bit of a novelty. I learned quickly how to rebuff sexist remarks while still maintaining a smile.   It was a physical job for the most part, and apparently Parks Canada (we were employees of the government of Canada) thought it was best suited for young men.   Our uniforms consisted of horrible brown long pants and short-sleeved collared shirts.   We weren’t allowed to wear shorts - I was told they were considered “unseemly”.   They didn’t actually have any women’s uniforms. I was given a men’s “small” and was told to make it work. Good thing I was handy with a needle and thread.   I...

Today I woke up to blue sky, sun, and a bit warmer weather (30 degrees). The ground still has about a foot of snow and the reflection of the sun made sunglasses a must today.   It was such a beautiful day that I immediately felt guilty reveling in it when I know how many are suffering in Texas because of the weather. I’m not dealing with life and death issues like my southern pals – I have heat, electricity, and running water. Yet, despite all of my good fortune, including the sunny view from my window - I was blue today. When I get really down in the dumps, I play tricks with myself to feel better. I know that I do not suffer from real depression – I know what that is and I know I don’t have it. So, please understand when I say I’m fighting the blues, I’m well aware that what I do to dispel the blues will not help those with clinical depression. Today, I did a series of things to lift the cloud.   First, I told Bill to stay out of the kitchen while I prepped tonight’s mai...

In 1983, I moved across the border from Canada to the US. It was a 3.5-hour drive – nothing in terms of space and time. I was young and the idea of culture shock didn’t even enter my mind. What could be so different? A lot apparently.  (Warning – this blog contains some very generalized statements about Canadians and Americans).   When I first arrived,  I lived in a suburb of Buffalo with my mum and dad. A typical grid development with trees for street names. The houses were all different but the designs were repeated haphazardly. Sometimes I would pull into the wrong driveway at night because of the uniformity. The lots were all about the same size and one lot would back into another. So, you actually had three next-door neighbors (one on each side and one behind). This was a big change for me coming from a rural environment where I couldn’t even see my next-door neighbors – in fact, we didn’t even call them ‘next door’. Rather, it was the "farm at the next concessi...

Something I contemplate a lot: Why do we have to spend so much of our time asleep? It seems like a huge flaw in our design that we must spend 1/3 of our life recharging  - usually in a dark room. Because most of us do sleep at night and our medical professionals all say we should aim for eight straight hours. I remember reading something a few years ago, that postulated that humans used to sleep in segments:   four hours asleep, up for a couple of hours, then back to sleep. It was an interesting theory. Interesting to me because that describes my sleep pattern to a tee. I haven’t slept straight through the night since I was in my 20s.   When I had my knees replaced a couple of years ago, I spent a lot of time awake during the night. I was exhausted -  but my legs told me I had to move. So, I hauled myself out of bed, marched around the house, and did a lot of peering outside into the night. I dubbed myself the “neighborhood watch” during those months. I also lea...

From time to time, Bill and I talk about moving south when we are old. Curiously, the definition of what constitutes being ‘old’ changes as we age!   I was talking to my son about this phenomenon and he seems to think moving south should only happen once we aren’t so ‘spry’ (his word - not mine). Spry? Good grief!   Who says stuff like that? Spry is such an old-fashioned word. Paul P. Martin surveying part of his flock.  Bailieboro, Ont. - Circa 1975 I’m just not sure I could live full time in the south because I love all the seasons in Western New York. However, I have to admit it wasn’t always so - I used to dread the winter. Growing up on a farm in Central Ontario, the winters were brutal. Especially with a barn full of animals. The water in the barn would freeze so often that we resorted to carrying hot pails of water from the house to the barn in order to thaw the pipes and the water troughs. A total slog. By the time we reached the barn, the water was already co...

Bill is a great cook - very inventive, has a lot of recipes - but I swear it feels like “ Groundhog day ” at dinnertime.   I think what is most tedious is going through the motions of emptying the dishwasher, setting the table, clearing, and cleaning up – again and again.  While c leaning up I often recite an equally monotonous tune from my childhood:   𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮 "“Wash the dishes, dry the dishes, turn the dishes oooooooover” 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮 Does anybody else remember that “game” we played at recess?  How did that entertain me for more than two minutes? I guess I was a bit of a simpleton. As I was setting the table last night, I was secretly longing to be in a cozy restaurant.   Then I remembered another game I used to play when the kids were small and Bill wasn’t home for dinner. We called it the “Restaurant game”. I was the waiter and the chef, the kids were the patrons, and we printed a menu that consisted of my usual boring repertoire. Even though the food was the same...