That old adage has proved to be emblematic of my life these past few weeks on assignment on Canada's West Coast, after being parachuted into the lazy B.C. capital kicking and screaming because I was wound up with umpteen projects dancing in my head, a thousand deadlines to meet, and countless responsibilities looming.

I was braced for a crash landing in Victoria because I never thought I would be able to do it -- last almost a month, without my feisty girls, cuddly pets, cozy bed and myriad wardrobe choices, a galaxy away from the seductive treadmill of my regular life.

And there have been days when I questioned how I could have allowed myself to be removed so dramatically from my big picture: We all may fantasize about taking off, and leaving all our troubles behind, but the fact that such an opportunity, or even obligation, would actually present itself was scary. But often the universe sends you exactly what you need. And I was in dire need of some time away from my life "style" to get a serious handle on my muddled self.

And I've had some of the most lovely times on my days off, aimlessly kicking around town in shredded blue jeans and old cowboy boots, contemplating chai lattes all by my lonesome, and thanking my lucky stars that I was missing Ontario's deep freeze.

I had never been on the West Coast for more than a few days at a time, so it's no wonder that I hadn't, until now, appreciated the laid-back sensibility associated with the place. Except for one night, when I stayed up till all hours because Bekky wasn't answering her phone in Montreal (she had fallen asleep), and another evening when I felt depressed about missing Joey's school play, I've managed to adopt a more relaxed attitude about life: Instead of trying to control so much, I'm taking more time to stop and smell the flowers -- literally (yes, there are flowers out in Victoria). It's just like everyone says: Around these parts, you work to live, not live to work.

The highlight of my sojourn thus far has been my visit to Glengarry, an extended-care hospital, to read and talk to a group of octogenarians and nonagenarians, most of whom didn't have a clue who I was. I started by talking about how my own parents had immigrated to Canada and rebuilt their lives after the war. My parents were true survivors, I proudly told them -- just like they evidently were.

But as soon as I started talking fashion, some of these gals really lit up, eyes twinkling at the mention of names like Chanel and Dior. They seemed enthralled by my Paris and New York adventures, and I could feel that for several of them a long lost passion had been rekindled. I'm sure that most of them will never again be able to indulge in the joys of shopping or the fun of deliberating over what to wear, but it's obvious their appreciation of style and beauty remains with them.

A couple of them began asking questions about current dress, commenting on the opulence that abounds, and quizzing me about who was actually wearing these ultra-fancy frocks anyway. I delighted in telling them about the magic of red carpets, and the ongoing social swirl of the rich and famous. One's never too old for fashion.

About a week after my Glengarry visit, I got a thank-you card from the ladies, telling me that they talked about my visit for many days afterward. It was heartening to think that I had brought back old familiar worlds to some of these women, if only for a fleeting moment -- reminding them of a time in their lives when dressing up really did matter and glamour meant something.

It was light-years from my usual globetrotting experiences, but it brought back again the realization that I have one heck of a blessed existence, and that I have miles to go before I'll sleep. How blessed to be able to have had this time out to become conscious of that once again! Suddenly, I missed my own mother terribly, vowing to spend more time with her.

By the time you read this, I'll be jetting east, stressed about having to pack up yet again, this time to take Joey away for spring break -- overwhelmed by deadlines and obligations. But now, I'll have another dictum to help me hang in -- a quote from Lily Tomlin, posted in the lobby of Glengarry Hospital: "For fast-acting relief, try slowing down." Not convinced I'll always be able to, but for once, I'm going to try.

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