Today is Remembrance Day in Canada, where we honor those who suffered for our way of life. My grandfather fought in the First World War. The stories he told were those we could understand; stories of meningitis, the flu epidemic, marching, and the surreal crash of an airplane where the pilot walked away with a smile.

Without populating our nights with bad dreams, he gave us to know a hushed respect, for that beyond the border of our small lives. Thinking of you Grandpa, yes I am.

The decks are cleared!

For months, I have been avoiding the corner of my office, the corner where the paid bills and bank statements are piled high. I HATE keeping accounts. It causes my blood pressure to rise to unacceptable levels. Yet it must be done, it must.

I have tried the assistance of programs, like QuickBooks, but that has only served to elevate the stress levels involved. I have attempted to simplify my financial record keeping; it is not where my talents lie. The result is avoidance, unadulterated avoidance.

The pile in the corner haunted my days. I considered burying the stuff in a closet where I could not see it. However, the likelihood of losing important bits of paper would be very high indeed. If I hide something from myself, I do a very good job at it. If I decide upon a course of denial, whatever I have determined to ignore ceases to exist in my world. Clearly, it would be unwise to consign the household finances to oblivion.

Attila, impressed by the intensity of my distress, succumbed to my pleas for intervention. He sat patiently beside me as we plodded through the foot-high pile of bills and statements. It took hours. At last, the pile was no more. Filed away properly, those bits of paper ceased to terrorize, taking on their rightful position as mere records of the past.

Now, income tax season is coming up...

I purchased a .Mac membership to obtain the Virex software license that comes with the package. Purchasing Virex from the company is a nightmare, and they seem entirely unreceptive to suggestions. So, looking at the options available, I decided to purchase a .Mac account, through which Virex and the monthly updates are easily accessed.

The .Mac account offers members free prints from digital files. Hoping to take advantage of this offer, I have been perusing my archived digital files in search of candidates.

That is when I came across a photo of myself from years ago. My hair was short then, short and wild. The cut allowed my natural curl to walk all over my head. It appeared somewhat as if I had put my finger in a light socket. It suited me perfectly.

The next day I was on a quest. The stylist, who had cut my hair, all those years ago, is younger than I am. I suspected that: 1) he was still alive, and 2) that he was still working.

I began my search at the salon where he had been working when he styled my hair. He was no longer there. They clearly wanted me to book an appointment with them. The offer was a thinly veiled demand. I persevered and eventually she let slip where Michael is presently employed. I thanked them and hung up, parting company forever. It must be a small and highly competitive business, this cutting of hair.

My next call snagged an appointment with Michael himself, and the same day I trundled off to the salon for a shampoo and a cut.

It is a treat to have Michael working on my head. The shampoo before the cut is the highlight of the visit. It is actually much like a cranial massage. That and pleasant chatter make it a therapeutic experience.

As my long tresses fell to the floor, the style that I remembered slowly emerged. He captured it perfectly; a style he originally chose for me based on my looks and lifestyle.

When Attila walked in the door that night, he stared at me and then grinned.

"Got your hair cut", he observed.

"Yep". I said.

"Nice", he stated.

"Thanks", I replied.

I think Attila likes it that the comfortable routines in our life are punctuated with small, unexpected yet pleasant surprises.