Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

1. Buy really smelly cheese.

2. Replace your laptop on the dining table with a place setting for a person

3. Attempt to write something dazzling in cards to clients but end up with ‘best wishes’

4. Slip into your office to catch up on work and don’t answer the phone

5. Wonder why you keep buying boxes of crackers

6. Go to farmers markets and expensive bakeries for your ‘homemade’ baking

7. Curl up at 2pm with a book, hot cocoa and no guilt

8. Carry on whole conversations without any interruption

9. Feel like a kid again and actually enjoy the snow

10. Stop planning everything with military precision

…………. remember that the best moments are spontaneous.

In her recent article Mrs., Ms. or Miss: Addressing Modern Women , Nancy Gibbs ended with this statement

Feminists a generation ago fought for the title and dreamed of Freedom and Choice and Opportunity; maybe the surest sign that they’ve won is not which title we pick, but that we can have them all at once.

I also like the fact that how we choose to be addressed is now a matter of personal choice not societal mandate. I use Ms. for all things business; preferring the neutrality that it provides.  Whether I am married or single is irrelevant in my professional life.

For business I also use my family name of Crossland and that decision had nothing to do with patriarchy. I like the name and am proud of the English heritage behind it -

English (chiefly West Yorkshire): habitational name from a place in the parish of Almondbury, West Yorkshire, named Crosland, from Old English cros ‘cross’ + land ‘newly cultivated land’.

(English or Scandinavian) Belonging to Crosland/Crossland (Yorks) = the Land of the Cross [Middle English cros, Old Norse kross + land].

Early records of the name mention CROSLAND (without surname) who was recorded as a tenant in the Domesday Book of 1086.

In my own way I keep the family name in a state of perpetuation and part of me imagines how proud my father would have been to see the name being branded in my company and as the byline to my writing.

Googling one’s name is always interesting. Jill Crossland, the pianist comes up first and frequently but I manage to hold my own somewhere on the first page of the search.

For those personal matters such as banking, legal documents. Mrs.  Sadie married lady steps forward.

I have never liked the practice of hyphenating last names unless there is a cultural or social reason; as it gives one the impression of a need to try to please everyone. So this is the only time that you will ever see ……….. Jill Barbara Crossland-Pappageorgiou.

If there is an upside to having Atrial Fibrillation it is that you don’t just jump out of bed in the morning. You get up slowly so that your heart finds its day rhythm and the blood starts moving to all the right areas of your body.

Once up its dress, leash dogs and out the door. I keep my brain in a comfortable neutral only allowing certain thoughts in. Not those meaning of life ones that I probably should have instead I muse on the creative side of my business; finding the right words for an article, website touch-up ideas or fresh business concepts. Like so many entrepreneurs it is hard finding the time to create instead of running a business so 5:15am…ish is that time .

The energy is different when Chris comes with us; he is one of those people who gets up with his all his mental stuff front and centre. While I don’t mind Duke’s and Mia’s lingering sniffs over blades of grass mixed with multiple bathroom stops he is impatient to keep moving. Their excitement over every smell, sight and sound enhances my own awareness of the awakening day.

At that early hour we only share the streets with fellow dog walkers, a few joggers and runners. Some are withdrawn, huddled into their jackets and thoughts, others merely nod. It is usually the dog people who call out a cheery hello.

Then it’s home, make coffee and shower while channel surfing between The Today Show, a Calgary Breakfast Show and the BBC because I like their international news and knowing what kind of weather people in Hong Kong and Palermo are walking their dog in.

When it comes to how we live with our furniture Chris and I are definitely at different ends of the lifestyle spectrum

He comes from the ancestry where the front room is for guests only and the good china  is saved for special occasions; while my descendants were more the “Oh, dear the new puppy just chewed one the legs of the 18th century Hepplewhite mahogany dining table.”

As I am responsible for the care and feeding of the furniture we live in the relax and appreciate it environment. If you are a guest I’ll round up the dust bunnies but all in all you take the house as you find it. And don’t get me started on the concept of preserving something so that we can pass it on after we have died. I enjoy living with and using nice things; so after I have gone whomever can decide to keep it or put it in a garage sale but rest assured every scratch, dent and scuff will have a story or memory behind it.

Unfortunately though a mahogany dining table doesn’t fit in with our habits; as we eat, talk, laugh, plan and sometimes argue around this focal feature in the house. Instead we have a big Pier One table with a glass top. A squirt of Windex and it is ready to go for the next round of bill paying, newspaper reading, me on my laptop, deep discussion, wine drinking while dinner cooks and yes, actually eating a  meal.

Our home is also a reflection of eclectic tastes; old with new, expensive with not so much. I love to mix things up; to position an ultra modern chocolate coloured couch in between two turn of the century tables. According to many interior designers an eclectic look is rarely done well and should not be attempted. I don’t listen to them either.

This past weekend was the 40th anniversary of Woodstock and my Saturday morning tweet read -  This Sat 40 years ago I was 15 and driving through Cape Cod with parents listening to Woodstock news reports on car radio.

It only took that 123 character post and the fact that it was a grey and rainy Saturday to leave me with a mantle of sadness; as my mind went back to the August weekend in one of my favorite places, shared with two people that I still miss today. Unlike many writers who like to present themselves as having risen from the dregs of dreadful childhoods, I had a good relationship with my parents. On the surface they may have been stereotypical of the distant English parents; in private they were supportive and loving giving me little fodder for even a mild case of teenage angst.

That evening Chris and I ate pasta, drank wine and caught up on the conversations that we didn’t have time for in the week.  We then watched the movie Defiance. I had originally wanted to rent it because it starred Daniel Craig, who is on my short list of men I would have an affair with but the story proved to be so much more than I expected.

It is a World War II movie that looks at the Holocaust from a unique perspective. Telling the true story of a group of Jews in Eastern Europe who fought back from there home deep in the forest and the Bielski brothers who led them. While not a perfect movie the story itself is remarkable.

Saturday ended with me thinking that the type of person we become is not only the result of the family we are born into but also the time in history. For me is was about being a teenager growing up in the sixties. One thing I realized is that I want to start having the right conversations and asking the pertinent questions. From the hindsight of the person that I am today what talks I would have with my parents!

Relationships must be so much more than mere everyday words. Remember that a really sick friend is not just her disease; part of her still wants to talk about clothes, grumble about her husband and laugh over the funny parts of 30 Rock.  Realizing that a grumpy co-worker or colleague might be troubled by something in her life and responding accordingly. It’s about asking parents and grandparents to share the early years of their lives and seeing how they intertwined with the events of the time.

And ultimately never forgetting that everyone has a story.

For many of us the book that we choose to read at any given time is determined by any number of factors.

It could be seasonal. Summer is the time for the blended and frothy type of book. In the spring and fall I tend to be restless so I like the story to take place somewhere other than North America. Winter is for those big cozy works of historical fiction and memoirs

Then we check our mood, do I need to find myself or lose myself?

Finally, there is the time of day; business books and research are great for day time but by the evening I want something with which to as Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot might say “turn off the little grey cells”.

Age doesn’t really enter into the equation; think of the number of adults reading Harry Potter.

So here we are the summer of ‘09. My Amazon book wish list is pages long and I have groaning piles of yet to be read books, newspaper business sections, Time, Vogue, Marie Claire, O and More magazines in the living room, office and bedroom.

I have just finished My Sister’s Keeper which was no great feat; it is to literature what The Young and the Restless is to PBS. I will say though that the ending was unexpected. Next on my pureed summer book diet is Julie & Julia which led me to Julie Powell’s blog What Could Happen.

In the way of a little brain fiber I am reading three business books that have been recommended to me -

“Coolhunting: Chasing Down the Next Big Thing” Peter Gloor

“Tribes” Seth Godin

“Change Your Questions, Change Your Life: 7 Powerful Tools for Life and Work”
Marilee G. Adams Ph.D.

I cannot end this post on books without mentioning the one literary genre for all seasons and that is a good murder mystery. This past week coincidentally I was exchanging emails with mystery writer Roberta Isleib, who is currently on the other end of  the equation in that she is spending her summer putting the finishing touches on a new book.

No matter what the month is, all that you need to truly enjoy a mystery is a comfortable chair, no one home, a dark night, some fog rolling in, the sound of dogs howling over the moors ……………

In an O magazine article Looking for Stillness author (Riding In Cars With Boys), Beverly Donofrio goes monastery-hopping (her words) and she discovers ‘peace, clarity, connection, grace and a kind of hush’.  At the end of the article she returns to the Nada Hermitage in Colorado “Where you can hear your own bare feet on the floor”.

When was the last time you heard your own bare feet on the floor?

If you are anything like me noise is embedded into your life. I get up, turn on the news so that I can hear what has transpired in the world while I slept.  Feed excited and hungry dogs/cats, water runs, the coffee pot beeps to let me know when the coffee is ready, the toaster dings, my computer says “Good morning, Jill”, a phone rings and the day is underway.

As the hours progress my heels will click on busy pavement or loafers connect with my office’s hardwood but somehow I missed that moment when my bare feet quietly set my life in motion.

….. a new book from a favourite author
….. the effortless ritual of making tea
….. old, comfy slippers on a cold winters’ morning
….. that bowl of pasta or home made soup when your soul is world weary

We all need those things that are comforting to us; they provide consistency and calmness in what can often be an overly stimulating existence.

Time spent with old friends is one of the ultimates in social comforts.  This past weekend we met up with just such friends in Banff to celebrate husband’s birthday. The familiarity of knowing each others lives, the flow of easy conversation and laughter were truly relaxing.

And sometimes comfort is only meant to be with us for a specific interval. Many years ago we bought a house in BC. While my girlfriend and I were sitting outside, taking a break from the pre-move cleaning this rather scruffy, wild looking young black cat emerged from the field behind the house. He was wary but hungry and the only thing that we had with us was water and a box of Ritz crackers. With time the newly named Ritz allowed himself to become a house cat. He grew into a sleek and handsome adult with a sweet and uncomplicated nature.  Sadly, 14 years later we have just put this beautiful boy to sleep. Old age, liver problems and a tumour under his neck all caught up with him.

His spirit is again free to roam the fields. However in the evening I miss his restful presence curled up on my lap until I go to bed.