From One London to Another

Treading Water

2009-02-10T23:10:00.003-05:00

This is a difficult post for me to write.

I don't want this to be a "times are tough" blog post. Particularly because I write so rarely right now and the few people who do still visit deserve more than another story about somebody having a hard time with life. But I need to get this out.

It's hard for me to sit back, look at the challenges in my life and realize that the hurdles I face would be much, much smaller if I put in more effort. As I approach my 30th birthday with both excitement and trepidation, I'm becoming more and more aware of the things I want out of life. Goals and dreams that seem so simple, but feel so out of reach right now: a house, children, a permanent teaching job, even the wedding 18 months from now. Lately it seems like the only thing holding me back is me.

I look at my friends living in their own houses, going on vacations, shopping whenever they feel like they need new clothes, going out for dinners and movies, and I'm jealous. We are just barely surviving financially and wouldn't be surviving at all if it weren't for regular help from my parents. Yep, I'm almost 30 years old and I still can't pay all of my bills. Not exactly something that makes a person proud. The majority of our money goes to bills, rent, and groceries. We have no money saved in case something happens, and while it's easy to suggest living "within our means", we honestly don't have any extra money to spare unless we start eating from cans every other day. I refuse to spend money on processed, canned or frozen foods that have no nutritional value and are only good because they're cheap.

We can't afford to get sick because missing work means missed pay. We don't have health benefits, I have no life insurance, and we still owe thousands in loans from school and living in England.

I'm on a supply teaching list but have only worked 8 times since the beginning of the school year. Partly because teachers are still allowed to work after retirement for up to 3 years, meaning they get dibs on many, many jobs because they have contacts all over the city. Even though they are collecting a pension, they still choose to work while people like me pray for even just a few jobs a month. It's incredibly unfair. I'm absolutely disgusted by these baby boomers right now. I don't give a damn that the economy has gone to hell or that you might not have saved up enough money for your retirement. I don't care if you miss teaching. It's absolutely WRONG for you to take jobs and money away from a generation of people who are desperately trying to start their own careers. Selfish and short-sighted and wrong. If you miss teaching, go volunteer somewhere. If you don't have enough money, then don't take that cruise or live in Florida for the winter. You get one of the best pensions in the world and have no right to collect a paycheck on top of it. I'm so angry and frustrated when I hear that every day there are supply teachers in schools here, but most of them are retirees. A coworker of mine told me that at the school she was in today, all 9 of the supply teachers were retired. And while new graduates are denied even getting on the list, they turn a blind eye because they need to pay for their trips and other expenses. I know this sounds harsh, but I fail to see any motive behind working after retirement like this when they collect such an amazing pension. If you know a retired teacher still working, please tell them it's our turn now!

By the time somebody like me gets a contract position, they're in their late 20s or early 30s. And most of them go on maternity leave within the first year because they had to wait to get a contract job before they would afford to have a baby.

In order to even get to long term assignments and contract jobs, you have to work a certain number to days. I'm not even halfway there. For that, I'm absolutely furious. Both with the circumstances holding me back and with myself. Cause I'm sure there's got to be something more that I can be doing. Sure, I can go and print out more business cards and bring them into the schools where they will sit with no less than 50-200 other cards in hopes a teacher will notice and make that phone call. I haven't gotten to many schools and am going to have to get out there immediately. The problem is, I don't believe in this process. Teachers can call whoever they want to fill in when they're away. So unless they love my card or know who I am, why would they call me? I'm one of hundreds. How do I get my name and face out there so teachers will remember me and want me to teach their classes? How do I get aggressive and force my way into schools to shake hands and hand out cards without pissing off a principal or the teachers who are trying to get work done?

I feel like I'm stuck here. The options available to me don't feel promising, which might explain why it's been so damn hard to get out there. But as a lifelong procrastinator, there's a voice inside my head saying "just get off your ass and get out there!" Even as I write this, I wonder if not handing out as many cards has cost me work. It's hard to imagine this being true, but I'm at a loss of what to do. Usually problem-solving is easier for me. There's nothing I want more than to teach right now but I don't know how to find a creative way to stand out from the crowd.

Jeremy once commented that everything in life seems to come easily for me. I was good in school without really having to work (until 4th year university and teacher's college), have been promoted or hired to do jobs I really wanted, and seem to be able to accomplish most goals I set for myself.

The problem with this is I think it's made me lazy. Instead of getting anywhere, I feel like I'm standing still. This problem applies to me trying to lose weight as well. I worked really hard for a little while and lost almost 30 pounds. It was great. Then I got lazy. Stopped walking every day and had the treats I'd been denying myself once in awhile. Started eating snacks at night every once in awhile. Started picking up the bad habits again. And slowly the weight started coming back. It made me crazy enough to work to maintain the weight loss. But not to try hard enough to lose more and reach my weight goals. And I don't know why.

I don't feel the motivation and energy I should right now. I'm young, relatively healthy, have a wonderful group of friends and family, an amazing fiance who supports me no matter what, and two jobs I absolutely love. There are plenty of great things to look forward to and tons of happy memories behind me. I'm smart and creative and know how to work hard.

But I sit here with an extra 25 pounds on my body, a bank account in the minus column, and 12 more teaching days to log just so I can apply for long-term jobs.

It's like I'm in the middle of a lake, treading water - just barely keeping my head above the surface, getting tired and frustrated, but not really going anywhere. How much time do I have before I sink?

I need to start swimming again.

p.s. I was given an award last week by Sully (apparently because he thought I was too nice to ignore it). It's not been forgotten - I'm in the middle of writing a response post and passing the award to more people who I think will be too nice to ignore it. Hope to have it finished soon!

Keeping Warm

2009-01-27T22:07:00.002-05:00

Today was a pretty good day.

I taught an hour science program to a group of grade ones then went to visit my best friend and her adorable sons. Her mom was visiting from up north, which was an added bonus because we don't get to visit very often. The afternoon was spent playing and chatting over coffee and cake, watching the boys stare at Toy Story on TV and talking about the wedding. (Apparently this is going to be a main topic of conversation with me for a looong time)

I drove home for dinner and ended up picking Jeremy up on his way home from work. When we walked in the door, we noticed right away that it was pretty cold in the kitchen. And the tile floor felt like ice. Walking further into the apartment, is became obvious that the furnace had been off for several hours.

After checking the heater, we called the landlord, who immediately called his contact for heating. It seemed like things were going to be taken care off pretty fast when we received a call from a repairman within a half hour of calling our landlord. Unfortunately, the repairman didn't have the replacement part required to fix our heater and after several calls told us we'd have no heat until the morning.

Jeremy: So what are we supposed to do for heat?

Repairman: Put on some extra sweaters.

What a nice guy, huh!

After another call to the landlord, who was pretty angry that this was happening, we realized it would be morning before there would be any heat. So I started making phone calls...

There aren't a lot of numbers in my cell phone's contact list, but every one of them can be counted on if we need them. And every one of them offered to help, some by calling people they knew to find space heaters, others offering a warm bed for the night, and others offering what they had without hesitation. One of my friends unplugged her portable radiator, used daily to warm the rec room in the basement of her house and said they'd be fine without it for a day.

And those were just the people I called tonight. There are several more who I'm sure would have offered to help if we asked.

Interestingly, neither the upper or lower apartment residents seem to have located heaters for themselves. We had an extra one and lent it to the people upstairs, whose place is usually at least 4 degrees colder than ours. If there'd been another, we would have brought it downstairs. But I can't help but wonder why they couldn't find their own. Didn't they have anybody to call? Or did their friends and family just not have heaters to lend?

Just a little thing really - one night without heat. But it made me realize just how lucky we are.

Ugly News

2009-01-26T23:06:00.003-05:00

So far, 2009 has been all about the TV. We finally got cable after Christmas after three years without any TV at all. After months and months of depending on random TV episodes streamed from internet sites or YouTube and msnbc videos, I'm lost in a world of sitcoms, news, reality TV (The Biggest Loser is AMAZING) and random other shows.

It's been great being able to watch How I Met Your Mother, Two and a Half Men, The Office, Desperate Housewives and other shows each week rather than being forced to wait until they are available online. Just as I've gotten used to this, there's an announcement that one of my favourite shows, Ugly Betty, is on ABC's chopping block.

Apparently the network's plan is to stop airing the show at the end of March so they can show repeats of a show called Samantha, Who? (who indeed? has anybody ever heard of this show?) and a new sitcom called Motherhood. This decision is apparently supposed to help them compete with Amy Poehler's new show on NBC.

So instead of keeping with a wonderfully cast, written, and acted show with a solid fanbase, the network is putting it on hold.

I know that Ugly Betty isn't for everybody. It's quirky and weird and overly dramatic. The storylines aren't always realistic and their world is a colourful charicature of the real one. But it's always fun to watch. I've cried and laughed along with these stories and love following each of the main characters. At first, I thought the bottom line of this show was the message about beauty being on the inside (hence the show's title). After watching a few episodes, it was pretty clear that there is so much more. There are lots of layers in this show, from the superficial to the philosphical. Even the After-School Special Moments (usually featuring Betty and her family) are entertaining to watch.

One of the characters is a young boy, Justin, (Betty's nephew) who is obviously gay but doesn't seem to have come to terms with it. One of the recent episodes had a storyline about him and a guy he thought was a really close friend. He was just being himself, inviting his buddy to plays and talking about the theatre. The friend had a really hard time hanging out with Justin, but soon decided to ditch him when his jock pals made fun of him. The direction of this sub-plot was pretty obvious, yet brilliant acting made it heartbreaking to watch. Justin doesn't seem to understand how other people see him...

It's little sub-plots like this that keep me watching every week.

This show is not just about an unattractive girl trying to fit in. The other characters have a genuine affection for her. And as the seasons have rolled past, it's become less about her looks and more about the girl herself. The writers have developed a character that is both sweet and annoying, nerdy but clever, ugly but somehow beautiful.

I hope ABC does the right thing and re-considers this decision. If they drop Ugly Betty, I will be the first one to catch Amy Poehler and company on NBC.

The Cake

2009-01-24T23:23:00.005-05:00

I was watching Wedding SOS on TLC tonight. It was totally cheesy, but somehow hilarious: somebody accidentally destroyed the cake!

So it got me to day dreaming about the kind of cake we'll have at our wedding. I was in the middle of imagining this pretty little cake when I started wonder what it would be like if the cake got destroyed at our wedding.

Honestly, if it happens to us, there's literally nothing we can do. Pelee Island is not the place you go to for fancy cakes. So I think we'd take just have to take some pictures with the wrecked cake. Those pictures would be pretty funny.

I wonder if I'll still think they would be funny when it's a week before the wedding...

Song of the Year

2008-12-31T11:40:00.002-05:00

I’m always tempted to write New Year’s Eve posts with quotes from old songs. Maybe because music has always been such an essential part of my life. Or maybe because there are lots of people out there who can write about how I’m feeling better than I can.

When I was in high school, every year on New Year’s Eve, our friends would choose the Song of the Year, meant to help us remember the last 12 months. When we parted ways, as people tend to do, we stopped this tradition. I miss it though, and every year wonder which song would remind me of the year gone by when I hear it 5 or 10 years from now.

It seems like life has sped up this year. I felt like there was never enough time. Maybe this is what it’s like when you get older – everybody is busy running around with their families and work. You want to sit on porches with a beer or have tea with your friends, but suddenly everything has to be scheduled a week in advance. Or re-scheduled over and over until a month has gone by and you’re wondering what happened to your social life.

Working two jobs has been a blessing and a curse. I’ve had a little more money to do things with friends, but no time to get together with them. As the years spin by, I realize that the life I used to know is gone, and while I look forward to getting married and building my own family, I sometimes miss the way it used to be. Then I go out to the bar and remember why I'm happy with the life I have now. The friends I have who are still single and childless spend their weekends getting drunk in bars or house parties, posting crazy pictures on Facebook, and reliving the drama of high school or college. So we’re kind of in a limbo, Jeremy and I, caught between people who have Grown Up, and those who are still clinging to childhood.

So maybe, this is a good song for 2008:

Or maybe it’s something else…

This year my relationship changed from the “boyfriend/girlfriend” feeling it always had into an acceptance that this other person really loves me, all of me, despite the crazy pain in the ass I can be, and will always be there. Even more mind-blowing is that he WANTS to be.

When you’re dating somebody, there is a lot of uncertainty about where the relationship is going. You wonder if this person is The One, how long you’ll be together, how much they care about you, how much you are about them. You have days where you worry about breaking up, and fight about stupid things that mask the real issues that you’re too scared to ask questions about. Because you’re not ready for the answers yet. Despite being in a couple, part of you wonder what it would be like to date another person (even though you would never cheat, you still wonder). Because you’re not ready for the commitment yet. You want your romance to be like the movies, and expect Valentine’s Day and anniversaries with roses and sappy cards. Because you don’t understand that those things have nothing to do with real love yet.

So maybe, this is a good song for 2008;

Even if it doesn’t remind me of this year, this song will be special, since it’s at the top of our current list of possible First Dance wedding songs.

2008 was a great year for music to dance to, especially hip-hop, which I’ve loved a long time (blame living across the river from Detroit for a year). Kanye West and Beyonce released albums that are incredible, and there were so many singles that made me turn up the radio and roll down the window, it’s hard to pick just one. So here's one of the many I danced to in 2008 and look forward to hearing again in 2009...

This song will forever remind me to dancing down Richmond Street singing "Shawty got them applebottom jeans, boots with the furrrr" after a night of dancing with the girls.

This year I added a new song to my All-Time Favourites List, which I’ve already posted up on my blog: “I’m Yours”, by Jason Mraz. I love this song the same way I love “Drive”, by Incubus, “I’m Gonna Be” by the Proclaimers, and “For the Longest Time” by Billy Joel.

Since I’ve already posted it, here is a fantastic video, and another runner-up for a first dance song, by Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait. It’s called “Lucky” and would have been even more perfect if we’d gotten married right after I moved home from England.

(sorry there's no video, but the ones with a real video had embedding disabled)

Often, a Song of the Year was chosen because it represented a major moment in our lives. This year, that song is “Forever” by Chris Brown. Not for the lyrics or the music, but for the memory it represents…

The sun was sitting in the sky at that angle where everything is lit in golds and reds. The air smelled sweet, and birds sang in the trees as people walked together in the early summer evening. I didn’t notice any of it though. I drove through the streets in a daze, quickly and carefully trying to get through traffic without causing an accident.

The phone call had come in about 15 minutes earlier. Though it was expected, it sent me running through the apartment with my heart thumping. The news that it was almost time to meet my new little nephew was long-awaited, and the honour of being asked to wait at the hospital was not lost on me.

As I drove up Richmond street towards the hospital where my best friend laboured through the beginning stages of what we hoped would be an uneventful childbirth, I caught the beginning of “Forever” by Chris Brown on the radio. Turning up the radio, I looked out at the world around the hospital, hoping to always remember the kind of day it was when Oliver was born.

It was a beautiful day.

* click here for the song. None of the actual videos would allow embedding *

So I guess I don’t really have just one song for 2008.There are simply too many to choose from. And if I want to get philosophical, this means I spent a lot of time smiling and singing, with my hair blowing in the wind as I drove to where I was going. Just enjoying the moment.

Maybe that’s why we loved picking the Song of the Year so much – it was never a sad song. We chose to remember the good ones.

Happy New Year world!

May 2009 bring you many happy memories. And some good music to sing along to.

Another year come and gone

2008-12-30T19:09:00.002-05:00

Christmas was wonderful. So great that I forgot about pulling out my camera because I was so busy enjoying our families. We played cards, drank good wine, had delicious meals, lots of laughter, and made some more great memories. Jeremy and I were ridiculously spoiled this year, yet again. I can't wait until the day we can spoil them back! We baked cookies and other goodies for everybody as our gift this year, something that was necessary due to finances, but ended up being lot of fun.

Unfortunately, the sinus cold I've been fighting for the past few weeks didn't go away, so I'm on a second round of antibiotics. These ones have left me pajama-clad all day long, sleepy and lazy amidst a pile of Christmas bags and assorted items still not put away after the holidays. It's frustrating having such a messy house, but I'm too wiped out to clean right now.

On a brighter note, tomorrow is New Year's Eve, one of my favourite times of year. 2008 has been both good and bad to us (and the world), and I'm hopeful that things will settle down next year a little...

In the spirit of trying to be a good little blogger, I'm going to spend some time to finish my write-up of 2008.

Happy December 30th world! I hope you all make the last day of this memorable year a good one!

Until tomorrow...

blank stares at blank pages

2008-12-19T08:42:00.003-05:00

I've been trying to write a publish-able post for several weeks now. It's not for lack of things to write about, but somehow my posts are not coming out the way I want them to. For example, when I told my best friend about the last one I wrote, her response was "oh, that's kinda depressing, huh?"

On hindsight, it kinda is. In an attempt to be cheerful, I'd listed reasons why Life Doesn't Suck Today. While I was trying to be funny, I can understand how this would be interpreted and am pretty sure nobody wants to read the same old thing about life being tough but focusing on the good things. It's been a theme in my blog pretty much since Day 1. Probably because that attitude is such an ingrained part of my personality.

I like to think I'm a positive person who focuses on the happiness that comes out of life, but to be honest these thoughts are usually in contrast to the stressful things - a silver lining to the black cloud, if you want to re-use an old metaphor.

Maybe it's just that there has been so much bad news lately, in my own personal life and in the world. Maybe the weight of being broke (my substitute for the word "poor" that for some reason doesn't sound as depressing) for 3 years has become more of an issue sub-consciously. I don't want to think about money as often as I do, but it's hard not to when the whole world seems to focused on it. On top of everything, I keep hearing stories from friends and family about these awful things that are going on.

So I try to write something that will help to take it away - even just for a minute or two.

But the pages either fill up with things that would only remind them. Or they stay stubbornly blank, as I flip back and forth between Blogger and other websites, hoping for inspiration.

Ironically, I don't feel unhappy. There are so many things that I am thankful for and love about my life that sometimes I just smile. I have two jobs that I absolutely love, a host of friends and family who are just wonderful, and many, many things to look forward to. I've been out supply teaching several times now, and am slowly inching toward seeing my name on a classroom door one day.

Yet the pages stay blank.

People are writing inspiring Christmas stories, sad tales about lost loved ones, funny anecdotes about things happening in their lives, and still I sit, unmoving.

It feels like there's something inside me to share.

This morning a snowstorm moved into London. The weather is so bad that schools are closed today, giving students and teachers here an extra day of vacation. The cars on the streets are already covered and the wind chimes on the porch are singing as snowy gusts whip past the windows. The weather makes me want to sit in my pajamas with a cup of coffee and a book, but I have one last day of work before my own holiday. A busy day ahead.

So I'll get up and sing in the shower for a little while before pulling on winter clothes and heading out into our snowglobe world. I'll pray for my 94 year-old grandmother who's in a hospital bed, in a sort of limbo now, hoping she'll be comfortable today.

Hundreds of thoughts will push in and out of my mind. Maybe I'll write some of them down later and see what happens.

a great song to have stuck in your head for three days

2008-12-05T17:22:00.002-05:00

Usually when this happens, it's a Britney Spears song. And since I don't particularly like her, it's pretty darned annoying. But this time, I've had this song in my head:

Not only is the song super-catchy, but the lyrics are fabulous too:

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
Now I'm trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love
Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing
We're just one big family
And It's our God-forsaken right to be loved love loved love loved

So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

Scooch on over closer dear
And i will nibble your ear

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and laughed
I guess what I'm be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanity and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find that the sky is yours
Please don't, please don't, please don't
There's no need to complicate
Cause our time is short
This oh this this is out fate, I'm yours!

No matter what kind of mood I'm in, this song seems to magically cheer me up.

This morning on the drive to work, I sang along with the windows down and the cold air blowing into the car, mindless of the looks some of the other drivers were giving me. Even better, "I'm Gonna Be" by The Proclaimers was next, followed by "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey, "The Way I Are" by Timbaland, then "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel (yes, I switch radio stations. And no, great songs do not usually all come up in a row like that).

It was hard to get out of the car this morning, but I did walk into work smiling...

it's okay to say "Merry Christmas"

2008-12-03T07:40:00.004-05:00

Yesterday on MSNBC.com, there was an article talking about shoppers who were offended when people said "Merry Christmas" to them while they shopped for The Holidays.

The article then went on to ask people to vote about whether or not people should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays".

Um, excuse me?

Last time I checked, December 25th, CHRISTMAS DAY, is a national holiday. It is NOT referred to as The Holidays. While yes, Kwanzaa, Hannukah, Diwali, and occasionally Eid (the end of Ramadan) occur in December, the reason people are Christmas shopping is not for those holidays. The reason people talk about Santa Claus is not because he helps to celebrate Africa or the fact that a jar of oil lasted long enough to save people's lives. We don't hang stockings above the chimney to celebrate the Festival of Lights. Merry Christmas does not mean an end to a month of fasting.

I'm so sick and tired of people stealing this holiday away from its original meaning. Like it or not, this is a Christian holiday. About the birth of Jesus. The extreme commercialism that has gripped this holy day in our calendar, which in turn shoves red & green decorations down the world's throat for 2 months, is destroying the meaning of our holiday.

I don't care if you aren't Christian. I don't care if you don't believe that Jesus was born and died the way I believe he did. I don't care if the story of the Three Wise Men or a star that led people to find a newborn baby makes you roll your eyes.

But who in the HELL do you think you are to go shopping for this holiday and complain when people wish you a Merry Christmas???

I can't even imagine this happening to another religious group. People would riot. Yet if we complain about the secularization of one of the holiest days in the Christian calendar, we are pushing our religion on you.

How about you taking our religion away from us?

I'm all for tolerance and acceptance. As a teacher, I've made a point of learning about the different cultures here in Canada and can discuss any of the major religious holidays with anybody. It's important to recognize that there are other groups out there who are celebrating things like Diwali and Hanukkah, while others prepare to attend Midnight Mass or open presents Christmas morning.

I have no problem with non-Christian holidays or people who don't celebrate Christmas. It's your religious right.

Where is my right? Why do I have to bow down to people who choose to sing about Santa coming down a chimney, but refuse to accept the actual meaning behind Christmas. Why do they get to complain about us when we have no choice but to accept millions of people celebrating our holiday while scoffing the beliefs behind it?

I knew somebody back in university who complained about how "those Christian people shove their beliefs and holidays in everybody's face". He thought Christmas and Easter were over-done, and couldn't understand why so many people celebrated them. "First it's Santa, then the Easter Bunny - give me a break!"

Who made the choice to show Santa Claus in a commercial? Who decided the Easter Bunny was a great symbol for Easter? You can be sure Christians weren't the driving force behind this.

Just imagine the conversation:

"Oh, hey. You know I was thinking about Easter. It's so solemn and serious. We need something to make people smile. Like a mascot, maybe?"

"Right. I've got it! How about a bunny rabbit?!"

And so it was decided that the symbol of a holiday that honours Jesus dying on the cross and then rising from the dead is a big bunny rabbit who bring eggs and chocolate treats to all of the children. Yep, I'm sure that was the intent all along.

If you celebrate Christmas but aren't a Christian, this is not necessarily a swipe at you. My problem is with people who have stolen this holiday from the people who have been honouring its meaning for centuries. And then assigned a meaning of their own to it. Then turned around and insulted those of us who still believe that the reason for its importance is a miracle birth.

"I'm not Christian, so I don't believe in all of that Jesus stuff. But Christmas is my favourite holiday of the year. Presents, songs, great dinners with family - it's wonderful!"

Yes, there are fantastic things attached to celebrating on December 25th. We all have the right to enjoy family and gifts. But please, I beg you to remember that even as you sing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", some of us are singing "O, Holy Night".

Because for many of us, it IS.

On the Moon

2008-11-15T00:44:00.003-05:00

So if I should visit the moon
Well, I'll dance on a moonbeam and then
I will make a wish on a star
And I'll wish I was home once again
Though I'd like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I may go I'll be coming home soon
'Cause I don't want to live on the moon
No, I don't want to live on the moon
- Ernie, Sesame Street

July 28th, 2007

I woke up feeling like butterflies were having a race around my stomach.

One more day.

I looked around the room, remembering the night I moved in: Crying again. It was amazing that every move since getting off the plane was accompanied with tears. That night though, I felt more alone than I ever have. I felt cut-off from the world. Or at least the one I knew.

Somewhere on the other side of the ocean, the people I loved were at work, having dinner with family, shopping, playing with their children, watching TV, and doing all of the things they do every day. Somewhere on the other side of the ocean was Jeremy, who I would not see for 4 months. I couldn't even think about it then.

Whenever I talked to people in Canada, it felt like they were on the other side of a tunnel - I could imagine their faces and homes and picture places they would talk about, but it was all with the sense of being very far away.

My landlady was friendly and kind, but we weren't really friends and she and her son liked spending time "just the two of them". After a life full of people to talk to, I found myself in a bubble. People all around me, on buses and trains, in the shops and even at work - all inter-twined with their relationships and connections. For the first time, I had no connections other than the very new friendships with co-workers and a girl who lived in the same building in Bayswater.

I looked around the room full of piles of clothes and the rest of my possessions, sniffing as I realized it would be home for the next few months.

Well, not "home" really.

It was time to finish packing. Lots to do before the day ended. I looked at the piles of clothes and souvenirs and sighed at the thought of how much extra money this was going to cost. Flying back home after being away for a year meant much heavier bags than normal. Which of course, meant more money spent.

While I was packing a mug I'd gotten at the Les Miserables performance, it suddenly hit me that I was going HOME.

No more countdowns or phone calls saying "I miss you". No more hearing babies laughing or crying in the background and wondering how big they'd gotten or if they'd remember me at all. No more holidays filled with "un-traditional traditions" designed to make the distance from family matter less.

The last day flew by. My clothes for the flight were laid out, suitcases packed, taxi arrangements made, alarms were set. Next on my list was saying good-bye to Kelly and her family. She lived near the school we'd both worked at and had become my closest friend in England. Since she didn't have access to the Internet, I had a feeling we wouldn't keep in touch easily. We had a last glass of Pinot Grigio out in her garden, talking about what things would be like at the school next year, and our recent trip to Newquay, in Cornwall. I wanted to ask her why she was so afraid of the dark, but I didn't want to spoil our last afternoon. While we sat in the sun and talked, she chain-smoked and mused about what to make for dinner. (I remember thinking that I'd never again have a glass of Pino Grigio without thinking of her. And I haven't. Her story is for another day though.)

Walking away from her house in Walthamstow, I wiped the tears out of my eyes and stared at the homes around me. Wanting to remember every detail of the world I had temporarily become a part of. A world that respected me just because I was a Teacher, full of people who had barely finished high school and honestly believed I was brilliant just because of my profession. A world of graffiti on crumbling brick walls, fenced in schools, vandalized bus stops, and teenagers playing loud tinny-sounding music from their mobile phones. It was so different here. Houses close together, with tiny lawns if they had any at all. Everything was very close together. Even the fence of our school was right up against the teeny back gardens of the houses on the next road.

When I close my eyes I can remember it perfectly.

I rode the bus for the last time into Hackney, committing to memory the roundabout and pond, the bridge over the river I'd never learned the name of and the little old pub that sat on its banks. One thing I knew I'd miss about London was riding at the top of the buses. The views were always better from higher up. I walked past the off-license where I'd picked up a large bottle of rum on my first night in Hackney, past the fabulous kabob house (hands down the best shish kabobs and shwarmas EVER) and onto the street where I'd lived for 3 months.

Roses were blooming in the gardens again. Spring and summer were beautiful in London - even in poor areas like this. Every yard in our neighbourhood, no matter the size, had flowers and trees. Usually roses. My landlady had white roses in her back garden, along with lavender and several other flowers I couldn't name.

At this time tomorrow, I'll be on the plane.

Shaking off the fear that is the constant companion of thoughts of flight, I turned back around to get dinner from the kabob house one last time.

The guys behind the counter knew me fairly well - I'd been a regular in their shop for 3 months now, often chatting with them while waiting for my order. When they found out I was going back to Canada, they started talking about Canadians and how great we are. They called us smart and kind and both said they would love to see our country because it must be beautiful.

"It is", I said with a smile.

In 24 hours I'll be on the other side of the ocean. It's amazing to think that. Imagine that right now I'm in England and tomorrow I'll be in Canada. Amazing when it's so far away.

Nothing felt completely real anymore. It was almost like I was just going through the motions, but was already gone.

One more goodbye to go.

Walking into the house with my takeaway in hand, I realized nobody was there. When I got to the room upstairs, I pulled upon my laptop, opened the window beside my desk, and chatted with Jeremy while eating and watching TV reruns on a website I'd discovered when we first got here. I loved that window. It had a huge frame that was exactly the same height as the desk chair, meaning a person could sit in the chair with the window open, and rest their feet or legs on the sill while typing on the computer (or watching TV). It was my favourite thing about the house in Hackney.

I tried to think about London as the Amazing Adventure we'd set out to have. But all I could think about was how much I missed home. After a year of being 'foreign', I wondered if people in Canada would see me differently. And how long it would be before I felt settled again.

Naomi arrived home a little while after I'd finished dinner. We'd made plans for tea in her back garden after dark. She had all sorts of cool little candles and a silver teapot that was meant to brew loose teas. That evening she had decided to make Moroccan tea. Using fresh mint right from her garden, she brewed a tea that was unlike anything I'd had before or since.

And while we sat there, talking and sipping tea from tiny little cups beside saucers of biscuits she'd picked up from a shop in the Market, I finally relaxed. The long day was over, as was the wait. Tomorrow morning I would wake up, shower, get dressed, and catch a minicab to Gatwick Airport.

I'd leave England very differently than how we'd arrived. When we landed, we had no clue what the hell we were doing. We caught trains and managed with the help of strangers to get our five giant bags on and off trains, up and down huge flights of stairs, all the while trying to absorb the fact that everybody was speaking with a British accent all of a sudden.

"You know what's interesting? When I was a kid, we used to have saunas on our lake in the summertime and I'd always look up at the stars to find the Big Dipper. Since then, no matter where I've been, I've always tried to find it. For some reason seeing it up there makes me feel connected with home. But I haven't seen it once since we moved here."

"Really?! Um. It's right there."

And there it was. Stars shining more brightly as the sky darkened, a shape I'd been seeing for years. Not once had I noticed it from the garden or anywhere else in England. "Oh wow - there it is. And now I'm going home".

Naomi was understanding enough to let me sit there in silence.

When we packed up the tea set and gathered the candles, I followed her back into the house. But not without turning to look one last time.

The next morning was a blur. I remember bits and pieces of the morning, riding in the minicab past fields of black & white cows, waiting in a long time at the airport, chatting with fellow passengers on the plane.

When the pilot announced we were flying over Newfoundland, I looked down through the clouds. There is was.

I feel like I've been living inside of a movie. Or on another planet. It's all been so far away and I've missed it so much. I got to see Paris. I got to live in an amazing city for almost a full year. Some amazing memories were made. It's funny that it's already starting to feel far away.

It was like flying from one life into another.

I might not have danced on moonbeams, but I swam in the English Channel, collected shells on the Atlantic coast and wandered over fields near King Arthur's castle. I'd seen the Crown Jewels, walked through the Tower Of London, and spent afternoons in the sun in Hyde Park. I'd watched vendors on Portobello Road shout out prices while old ladies peddled bundles of flowers. I'd wandered past dozens of flower shops along the Seine with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I'd seen places so beautiful that the only thing I could do was stare. Circling towards Pearson Airport in Toronto, I didn't think of those things.

Only one thought kept repeating: I'm home.

Meet Darwin

2008-11-10T20:14:00.004-05:00

The newest addition to our household is a two and a half month old ball of fuzzy orange sweetness.

After 6 months of cat-sitting for Hunter, the Big Orange Kitty (some of you may recall it was supposed to be for 3 weeks), we bundled him into a cat carrier and amid yowls of irritation drove him back to his owner. The poor cat had no idea what was going on and basically yelled the whole time he was in the carrier. Luckily he remembered his sister right away and probably settled into his new place much more easily than when he moved in with us.

UPDATE: The morning after I wrote this, we heard from Dylan that he and his girlfriend were treated to the same craziness that accompanied Hunter's move-in with us. Screaming, loud growls, yowling and hissing all night long...

We laughed about the reaction Chase was going to have when we left with a Big Orange Kitty and returned with a Small Orange Kitty. Yet another orange kitty who made it very clear that he did NOT want to be friends.

The two of them are still trying to figure each other out.

Chase is definitely having an easier time with the Small Orange Kitty. Most likely because this one isn't screaming in his face or growling madly. He does hiss a lot and arches his little back to make himself an even bigger ball of fluff, but Chase just seems amused. He hisses right back but it's almost to say "meh, I'm bigger, so bring it on little man!"

Despite the hissing, Darwin already follows Chase around the apartment and really wants his attention. They've gone nose-to-nose a couple of times without any hissing, but it'll probably be awhile before they become friends.

Right now it's easy taking care of this little guy because he sleeps a lot. When he's awake, he runs around everywhere, attacks my plants, tries to eat food that's not for him, and plays with things he's not supposed to (like the power cable for my laptop).

Can't wait to see what happens when he tries catnip for the first time...

Today

2008-11-04T23:40:00.004-05:00

After all of my rants (both verbal and written) and opinions, I'm speechless. I don't think I've caught up with the magnitude of what happened tonight.

Ann Curry from msnbc said "it's a new day".

I think she's right.

History in the Making

2008-11-03T19:40:00.003-05:00

I'm very jealous of all of you Americans out there tonight.

Why?

You get to make history tomorrow.

Today, I read on msnbc.com that regardless who wins the Presidential election tomorrow, history will be made. Either a huge upset by John McCain, the likes of which have never really been seen, or the first Black President. Obviously, I have my opinion, which is that Barack Obama should be the winner. I've made no secret of this, and even here in Canada have had some pretty heated conversations about an election that we have absolutely nothing to do with.

Yet we're all captivated.

And we all have an opinion: "Obama isn't trustworthy." "He's a liar". "He's not experienced enough". "He hangs out with some pretty scary people." (It's amazing to hear people I know say things like that.) The other side is saying "Obama is amazing." "I haven't seen a leader like him since Kennedy." "He's intelligent and has what they need to really change things for the better."

Most people only know what they see on TV or read online, right? Since political TV ads force their way across the border into Canuck living rooms from St. John to Victoria while we watch NBC or other stations, we have all seen more than our share of commercials praising or bashing the Presidential candidate(s).

And we all agree that what happens in the USA will have a significant impact on Canada.

Regardless of what it means here, I can only imagine what the millions of Americans are feeling as they approach this Election Day. The pride you see on people's faces as they vote is foreign to me. Here, we vote as a duty. I don't know anybody who is excited to vote. Not one person acted like it was much of a big deal at all. Most of us said it was choosing a lesser evil.

And then you watch a rally with 20,000 people cheering and smiling and singing as one man stands with a microphone, talking about the future he wants for his country. You hear the journalists' comments about the intensity and furor surrounding his campaign. You see people inspired enough to send $5 or $10 a couple of times a month in support of a politician because they know every dollar will count and they want their voices heard.

Say what you will about spending millions in TV advertising or whatever else. There is a reason that Barack Obama has built such a strong base of support. There is a reason he's earned so much money. There is a reason he can fill football arenas with cheering people.

A few days after the Democratic convention ended, I found a video on Obama's YouTube site showing things that happened behind the scenes. What struck me most about the video was a scene of Obama watching his wife give her speech in front of thousands of people. He was sitting in somebody's living room, spellbound and staring. As she spoke, she mentioned that he was the same man she'd fallen in love with all of those years ago - a poignant moment made even more so when the camera focused in on his hands. Suddenly this politician became just a guy to me - turning his wedding ring around and around as he watched his wife on TV - far away. It looked like all he wanted to do was be with her.

Later in the video, Michelle Obama is sitting in the screaming audience, looking around in a daze as people chant her husband's name. Awestruck, she mouths "whoa" before looking at him up on the stage.

It's hard to put yourself in their places. To try and understand what it would feel like to watch the guy you married inspire millions of people to vote him as their leader. To be the dad who takes his kids out for Halloween, but can't be alone with them because there are cameras following his every move.

There have been a few flashes of the Normal Guy that lives in John McCain too, albeit few and far between... When he took the microphone away from a woman at one of his rallies to correct her statement about Obama being "an Arab", then going on to call him a 'good, humble man' and further saying he would be a good President - you could see the person under the rhetoric. The third time I saw that clip (it was on the news a lot) I noticed McCain's eyes - he almost looked afraid of what was happening.

The problem is, when you spend time and money spreading messages like "palling around with terrorists" or "dangerously unprepared" about somebody, eventually a group of people are going to repeat those messages. Yes, you might win their votes, but you've also created a Frankenstein. People who hate Obama really hate him. They're scared and furious. This is somebody's fault, and sadly the blame lies mainly with McCain and his campaign. Launching negative TV ads and "robo-calls" is such a natural part of politics that most people just roll their eyes and change the channel. This is because usually it's some kind of policy attack, like "my opponent will raise your taxes!" or "he'll cut military spending!" You do not usually hear things like "terrorist". After that can of worms was opened, Mr. McCain and his running mate had a choice: tell people the same thing McCain said to that lady - that Obama is a good guy too, but he has policies and plans that we don't like or agree with, or let them yell and get more and more pissed off.

Anybody following this election knows which direction they went.

The other say, Sen. Obama provided the best example of dealing with a raucous crowd. Upon mentioning his opponent's name, everybody started loudly booing. Instead of smiling and inciting them to more noisy booing / cheering, Obama raised his arm and said "You don't have to boo, just VOTE."

And here we have the classy way of dealing with things.

I didn't want to care this much about this election, but if the results end in anything other than a landslide for Obama, I will genuinely be concerned about the people who live south of us. Again, he is NOT perfect and he won't be a perfect leader. But his knowledge, skills, compassion, intensity, and pure class hold him waaay above his opponent. Everybody knows McCain's campaign has been condoning lies and smears about Obama. Not his politics either. His PERSON. How any intelligent person can watch such a thing and not only swallow this ridiculous rhetoric, but agree with it is beyond me. Yes, we are all entitled to our own opinions, but this time, it seems like Obama is the obvious choice.

You might have a young President who will make mistakes from time to time, as he has inherited a country with lots of potholes and problems, but I don't think anybody can disagree with the fact that Barack Obama wants what is best for his country and that he'll work with anybody necessary to change things for the better. And no, I don't mean terrorists. John McCain might also want what is best, but I honestly believe he has gone down a very wrong and dangerous path to get there. He has hurt people instead of helped them, and scared people instead of inspired them. He might be a war hero, but his actions this past year have been anything but heroic.

And so, on the eve of Election Day, I wish I could vote. Since I can't, I pray that every person who is able, gets out to do so tomorrow.

Good luck.

In which I realize that pile of clothes has been on the floor for a week

2008-10-22T22:17:00.003-04:00

There are about 30 blog posts buzzing around in my brain right now, but I don't have any time to write them. Every time life calms down enough for me to sit here and type, I either find myself wandering to CNN.com to check what's happening with the crazy election in the States, playing around on Facebook, or watching random TV episodes that my fiance did NOT download onto our server for my enjoyment.

I've gone out teaching two times since the last blog post - both of which went well and make me want to be teaching full-time even more. The last couple of weeks I've been getting out to schools all over the area with my card, most often wearing my lab coat in preparation for a school gym show. These shows give me 40 minutes of undivided attention of students, staff, and often the principal. Pretty good advertising for somebody who wants to work in their schools. After each show, I visit the office, chat with whoever is in there, and give them my card. Normally when a supply teacher wants to drop off a card, we are begging them to take it - and crossing our fingers that somebody might decide to call us someday. When I'm wearing my lab coat, they thank me. It's like magic.

Recently, I've been doing a lot of the office administration stuff in addition to the school gym shows and other activities that are usually in my day planner. Things have been just crazy, but it's fun and much better than sitting at home waiting for schools to call me.

It's been just over a year since I was hired at this job. A year ago, Jeremy and I had just moved out of our friends' place, and I was desperately searching for any way to get onto the supply teacher list for our local school board. Part of me still can't believe that I made it. Now I'm working constantly and wistfully looking out the car windows at the gorgeous Fall colours as I rush from school to school. Even weekends are usually busy with birthday parties or shows. I love it, but I'm getting pretty tired.

Being tired a lot means that household chores often get overlooked in favour of things like watching TV episodes on my computer, seeing friends, or simply going to bed early. Dishes pile up for a day or two (which drives me crazy), our bed doesn't get made very often anymore, I clean the kitchen and bathroom every week instead of every few days, and for some reason, I can't seem to find the motivation to put my clothes away.

Every night for last week I've neatly piled my (folded) clothes that were sitting on the bed (to motivate me to put them away) onto the floor before burrowing under the covers.

Yes, my mother raised me to not be lazy, but even as I type this, I know that those clothes will still be on the floor tomorrow morning.

And that the dishes in the sink probably will wait till tomorrow night to be washed.

And the rug won't get vacuumed until at least the weekend.

The garden won't be tended to until next week, even though I know I have to get it ready sooner than later.

The emails I need to respond to will sit in my inbox for at least another few days.

The blog post series that I've really wanted to write (somebody who has been on my mind for several days now) won't be written until "later".

The walks I keep meaning to take with my camera will keep on being post-poned.

I will likely continue to procrastinate on all of these things and more as work consumes my days. Usually when this happens, things feel stressful and unpleasant, but since I truly love my job(s), things feel pretty good right now.

And if tomorrow I visit my best friend for some TV and flavoured coffee, I'll re-read this blog post to remind myself that those clothes on the floor can wait for another day (or two).

6 years

2008-10-06T20:38:00.003-04:00

October 6th, 2002

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, light streaming through a purple curtain that I didn't remember, bathing my suitcases and purse in a warm glow. The day was going to be beautiful: warm and sunny, and I had nothing to do but enjoy it. Closing my eyes to the morning sun, I told myself things were going to be great. Life was a new adventure. No amount of closing and opening my eyes again would bring me back to the wooden-beamed loft with my double bed and windows with the view of the lake. The pictures on my night stand and clothes in the closet were packed in bags and boxes, waiting to fill the empty spaces of my new room.

Slowly, I sat up and leaned against the wall. I'd never had a wall beside my bed before, and it felt strange. Not bad really, just different. Everything felt different, kinda like putting on somebody else's running shoes.

I was amazed at what I'd done.

After living in the same two places for 24 years, I'd packed up my whole life and moved it 6 hours south - to a city where I knew a grand total of 4 people, and had visited 3 times. I had no job, no contacts, and no idea how I was going to survive on my own.

Filled with hope and excitement, I slipped on my robe and bounced downstairs, where Cindy, my new roommate was sipping coffee and listening to the radio. Together we sat on her back patio (a space that quickly became my favourite) and continued to get to know each other. I told her about my boyfriend Dan, who was angry that I'd chosen to move away. Part of me knew that we weren't meant to be together, and from that very first morning, she gently helped me to untangle my life from his. We talked about our parents, and how sweet mine were when we packed the car with all of my belongings. I tried not to cry when I thought about driving away from Ella Lake. We talked about our favourite foods and she recommended places to visit in the city. She was careful to recommend places I could go, not we - knowing it was time for me to step out and be on my own. That was hard, but necessary for both of us.

Cindy lived on Hope Street. I loved that name and thought it symbolic of my new situation. Despite the fear of being away from everything familiar, something told me that it was okay to hope - things were going to be just fine.

That October was full of new discoveries: I liked homemade sushi and peppermint tea, taking long drives and getting lost on purpose, and being able to meet up with my best friend without taking a 6 hour drive. I learned that people in Southern Ontario weren't as openly friendly as people in the North, and that smiling and saying hello to strangers on the street would usually bring a surly frown or bitchy expression in response. People were friendly, just not in the same small-town way that I was used to. I learned that procrastination is not an effective way to find a job. I was saddened by the discovery that all of the water in the area - lakes and rivers - were so polluted that people couldn't swim in them. As the month came to an end, I realized I'd fallen in love with the city. It wasn't perfect, I didn't know very many people, and things were pretty lonely so far, but there were gorgeous old houses, trees everywhere, fantastic restaurants and interesting little stores. There was an energy here that I'd never felt before.

Time marched on, bringing big changes. In November, I was hired as a technical support agent for a call centre - a job that was supposed to be temporary. (It wasn't). In December, I spent Christmas alone - unable to get enough days off due to lack of seniority. Christmas dinner was crab legs and a piece of cheesecake in front of a movie - a kind of non-Christmas that was supposed to be "fun". (It wasn't). My boyfriend and I fought constantly, but kept telling each other things would work out. (They didn't). In January, I officially broke up with Dan, severing another tie with my childhood home. That month, I was also spending a lot of time with a guy named Jeremy, who was the opposite of my ex. I told everybody we were either going to have a fling or be good friends. In February, he started calling me his girlfriend.

And in March, Cindy and Jeremy helped me move into my Very First Apartment: a teeny place that had wooden walls and felt like a log cabin. When he moved in, it was only supposed to be for a "little while". (It wasn't).

In the spring of 2003, I realized that London had become home. Not the same as the place I'd grown up, but a new kind of home: one I'd built for myself. I had lots of new friends, enjoyed my job, had a new boyfriend, and could drive around the city without needing directions anymore. I knew where the best Chinese food was, adored the giant pieces of pizza you could get downtown, and had a favourite bar. I was starting to cheer for their hockey team. Unknown streets turned familiar.

6 years ago today I had no debt, no job, and no idea how to survive on my own.

And I had no clue about what life had in store for me...

And here we go again!!

2008-09-30T21:27:00.004-04:00

I just can't help myself. This is way too funny not to post. I'd advise everybody to stay up for SNL this weekend...

One of my favourite parts was when they both jumped onto the "Gotcha journalism" thing. Apparently a voter asking Palin a question about Pakistan while she shmoozes over cheesesteaks counts as Gotcha Journalism. So basically if you ask her any question about any topic and she can't remember the appropriate sound byte, you've used Gotcha Journalism. Katie Couric is a real pro for not laughing out loud at them.

We're dangerously close to moving away from Hilarious to Just Plain Sad.

Oh, and add Keith Olbermann to my list of heroes. Apparently he's going to pay $100 to the Alaska Special Olympics charity every time Sarah Palin lies. Check out this link to see how much he owes.

Tina Fey is my hero

2008-09-29T23:10:00.003-04:00

Okay, I know I've been a terrible blogger lately. All election rants and silly videos and nothing about the time I almost set myself on fire in front of 50 people or the ridiculously huge tip I got from this weekend's birthday party (me & 21 five year-olds). Not to mention the sad death of my orchid, finding an old, beloved pair of jeans that fell behind my dresser or the fact that we're STILL taking care of the Big Orange Kitty.

Life is busy. I blame Facebook for my bad blogging in the past year. Even though I know how silly it is, I'm still addicted and have to admit to you all that I posted the following video there first.

Sorry blog, I'll try to do better.

The best reaction to the Presidential Debate comes from an unexpected source

2008-09-26T23:57:00.002-04:00

It's no secret that I have a strong bias towards Obama, so I won't bother outlining my views of tonight's debate other than to say I found it reinforced all of my prior opinions. It got very tiresome listening to McCain repeat "what Senator Obama obviously doesn't understand is..." rather than actually responding to the questions. His attitude really bothered me, and I thought it was pretty low to resort to that when he was supposed to be discussing how he would run the country. I really did want to hear what McCain had to say because I haven't been able to find much of anything that outlines his stance other than a CNN.com fact checker saying he's voted with 90% of Dubya's brilliant ideas.

It's pretty clear which one of them just doesn't understand.

While it's hard to take a guy who says "the first I'd do (after winning the White House) is check to see if we actually have aliens", Chris Rock is surprisingly well-spoken in this interview.

This was my favourite part:

KING: Didn't you introduce Obama at a rally?

ROCK: I introduced Obama at the Apollo Theater not too long ago. I think Obama would be great. I mean, just look the big thing right now is the economy. And people are going broke. And here: The choice isn't Republican or Democrat. The choice is you got a guy that's worth $150 million with 12 houses against a guy who's worth a million dollars with one house.

KING: Well --

ROCK: The guy with one house really cares about losing a house, because he is homeless. The other guy can lose five houses and still got a bunch of houses. Does this make any sense? Am I the only one that sees this?

KING: It's unique way of ...

ROCK: I'm just saying, John McCain could lose half his houses.

KING: You got a point.

ROCK: And sleep well.

You know, I hope Obama wins just because, you know, the country needs it. The country needs a change. We kind of seen what this whole McCain thing is. And I'll go with the guy with one house. The guy with one house is scared about losing his house.

Awesome.

What Happens When You Piss Off Dave Letterman?

2008-09-25T16:16:00.004-04:00

(If you're interested, here's the complete transcript. It's even worse when you read it.)

Wow.

I really miss not having TV right now! Can't wait to hear what Jay Leno and the rest of the late night gang have to say about this one...

Oh, and note to the McCain campaign: Campaigning about suspending your campaign is NOT suspending your campaign. Just sayin'.

-----------

Edit: Awhile after finding this video, I came across Sarah Palin is making some TV rounds. Here's part of her interview with Katie Couric:

And here's Couric pressing Palin on a claim that McCain is the right man to "reform government" and Wall Street.

Couric: “But he's been in Congress for 26 years. He's been chairman of the powerful Commerce Committee. And he has almost always sided with less regulation -- not more.”

Palin: “He's also known as a maverick though. Taking shots from his own party, and certainly taking shots from the other party. …”

Couric: “I'm just going to ask one more time, not to belabor the point -- specific example in his 26 years of pushing for more regulation.”

Palin: “I'll try to find you some, and I'll bring them to you.”

Here is the interview. I find it absolutely mind-boggling that anybody would take the chance of allowing this woman to be one step away from the White House.

Because it's too important to not re-post

2008-09-14T14:55:00.005-04:00

In the midst of crazy rumours, emails, television ads and all of the drama it's easy to forget what people stand for. It's easy to get caught up with lies that masquerade as the truth. It's easy to get lost in the drama, to let something new and interesting cover up what's really going on.

I can't believe that there are so many people out there covering their ears and eyes like little kids, going "lalalala" and refusing to LISTEN.

After the hoopla over Sarah Palin dies down, what are people going to start saying about her? Will women actually vote for the Republican ticket just because she's part of it? Right now, what I know about her is what the media is reporting, and most of it scares the hell out of me. Of course much of it is probably embellished (at least I hope so) and I couldn't care less about her pregnant teenage daughter either. I did listen to part of her speech at their convention, a nasty reminder of what happens when a woman has to be vicious in order to succeed. It's likely that she's trying to be a strong Clinton-esque woman, but she would do well to remember that Obama won against her...

To my dear neighbours south of here - please wake up and educate yourselves on this election. So many of you are turning to prejudices and rumour instead of looking at facts. Facts that are not necessarily being reported by the media. I've listened to TV ads lately that are so nuts that it's hard to imagine people actually believe them. Visit their websites - for BOTH sides. Read what their speeches say. Watch interviews. Remember that just because something is written down, that doesn't mean it's truth.

As much as I love visiting msnbc.com, I realized this week how much they like to report Shock Facts. On Sept 11th, there was a huge red banner atop their webpage announcing "Authorities report an incident in tunnel between UK and France". On Sept 11th, as people remember the horrific attacks on America. Seems to me that announcing something as an "incident" is automatically going to get people thinking about another terrorist attack. I know I did. Hoping for more details, I went to cnn.com, where there was another headline: "Fire breaks out in train going through tunnel between UK and France". Not a terrorist attack at all. So why would one website report an "incident" when another already knows it was a fire and not something much, much worse? The political articles are just as bad, with so-called news stories trying to shock and surprise people every day.

It's even worse to see politicians actively encouraging the circus to continue.

It's immensely frustrating to sit here and watch John McCain and Sarah Palin and the rest of their party use dirty tactics and attack ads to try and win an election. (Even Karl Rove thinks they are going too far, if you can believe this report from Cnn.com.) I don't know what's worse - that people are listening to them or that others are criticizing Obama for not responding more harshly. Here is a man trying to run a cleaner campaign with different politics. And since the very start of his race, the media has focused on his religion, his colour, his family, and all sorts of things that don't mean anything. And when he doesn't dignify the BS with a response, he is the one who looks bad.

And the biggest complaint about him centers around his lack of experience and what exactly he is planning to do if and when he wins the White House. I can respect people for questioning this, just as people are questioning Palin's readiness, should something happen to McCain.

Want the answers? Instead of reading an article about Sarah Palin being tough on Obama, listening to Fox News babbling about his ex-reverend, or parroting an attack ad to your friends, try actually reading up on what he stands for. And while you're at it, do the same thing for the Republicans. Compare their plans, not just their appearances. Look at their personalities, but focus more on where they stand on the issues that matter to you and your family. Then make your decision.

Educate yourself. Ignorance is no excuse to spout off "facts" that you saw on a TV commercial or heard from your buddy down the street.

Follow this link to hear Obama's latest speech, which outlines some of his priorities for the coming election. It's 10 minutes long and well worth the time.

Follow this link to see what the McCain campaign is saying.

(I have to say that in the spirit of honesty and trying not to be so biased, I went to see some of their videos, but could only find a few brief clips of speeches in the midst of dozens of TV ads and a speech by Sarah Palin. They spent the majority of their time criticizing or attacking Obama. It's to the point that I'm still not sure where they stand on the issues.) If you're interested in more, visit his campaign page for YouTube. Try to sort through the ads to listen to his actual speeches for a clearer idea of what he stands for.

What I find even more interesting then the speeches is watching the crowds behind each candidate. I won't say what I'm seeing - take a look for yourselves and you'll know what I mean.

I think it's amazing that the Obama campaign has mobilized so many people to donate money and volunteer support. Recently I read an article comparing a campaign to a business. If indeed, you do think about the President as the head of a business, bear in mind that he has managed to get tens of millions of dollars from regular people just by asking. Yes, their party is a little self-righteous about not bowing down to lobbyist groups, but the business side of their campaign is a pretty clear indication of how an Obama presidency will unfold, at least financially. In my mind, his lack of experience is over-shadowed by his ability to inspire and mobilize people.

And then there is this:

Say what you want about celebrities, but this message is an important one that should be repeated over and over again. The world they are talking about is one that I definitely want to live in. It's something I wish for both my own country and for our American neighbours as well. An end to wars and ignorance, the chance to people to improve their lives, equal treatment regardless of skin colour or religious belief. Respect for everybody, even people you don't understand. It's a world I want my future children and grandchildren to live in. No, I don't believe Obama is some modern-day Messiah who farts rainbows and butterflies and will wave away all of the world's problems. He won't create a Utopia, and he can't fix everything. But he stands for the belief that if everybody works together, we can change the world. And that message of hope is something we could all use right now. How we get there isn't just up to whoever sits in the Oval Office - it's up to everybody. But you do need a leader who honestly believes and stands for the same things as the people he or she represents.

Who speaks for you? Who represents the world you want to live in?

Choose wisely.

A Shot of Bailey's

2008-09-04T21:55:00.003-04:00

Tonight I poured the last ounce and a half of Bailey's Irish Cream into one of our London shot glasses. Following my mother's belief in the medicinal effects of sipping liqueur (her choice is Sambuca), it seemed like a good choice to help ease my newly sore throat.

24 hours ago I felt completely healthy, and spent the day at work laughing and joking with my boss. But around 4pm, the annoying sneezing that had originally been attributed to allergies turned into full-blown coughing and nose-blowing. Half a roll of toilet paper and a box of Kleenex later, I stood in Jay's office door and asked for chicken noodle soup. Halfway through the second bowl I lost my sense of taste (number 1 Pet Peeve when dealing with colds, closely followed by the feeling that tissues have all morphed into sand paper). Every time I get a sinus cold there is at least one day of not being able to taste or smell a thing. Usually this leads to more soup or lots of tea drinking, but tonight I had the brilliant plan to have a cup of coffee strongly laced with Bailey's to wash down the Tylenol Sinus and throat lozenges. Now it's 10pm and I can't fall asleep...

So back to that shot of Bailey's.

I poured the last drop of last year's Christmas gift into the glass (my parents get me a bottle of this each year, which leads to many happy weekend mornings or evenings with a cup of Irish coffee (yes, just one) as I sit on the deck or curl up in my chair with a book) my mind pulled a rewind.

April 2006

My parents were visiting from Canada, we'd just returned from an amazing holiday in Paris, and despite missing Jeremy I was in pretty high spirits. Finally I was getting to do all of the things we'd planned on doing: riding on the London Eye, visiting the Tower of London, buying things in the stalls on Portobello Road. I was trapped between vulnerability and excitement, sadness and joy - all at the same time. That April was a true study of contrasts, but as time goes by even the hard parts of that month are becoming easier to remember.

All three of us got sick during their visit.

My dad caught the cold first, then me, then finally my mom. It was a nasty one, pretty much as bad as a spring cold can get. Being in the UK meant that we could walk to the end of the block and choose from no less than 3 off-licenses, each selling either Sambucca or other flavoured treats that could sit in the back of your throat simultaneously soothing your mind and your scratchy throat. My mom was disappointed when we could only find the version of her favourite medicine, but we got a bottle anyway, each of us pouring a shot to sip while watching re-runs of Two and a Half Men on my laptop.

One of the things I loved about my neighbourhood was getting to become a regular in certain markets and shops. My favourite off-license (I will not admit to being a regular at buying their liquor or the 1 pound packs of McVitty's chocolate caramel cookies) was run by a family of men. They were all pretty friendly and when they heard that Mom was sad about not having black Sambucca, they ordered it for her, special. I'm sure she thought it she'd have to leave some of it behind, but we somehow managed to go through the entire bottle in less than 2 weeks. Blame it on that horrible cold if you want, but I have a different theory.

In England, drinking is a major part of every social gathering, whether it be a group of friends at a pub on Charing Cross Road, whiskey shots in a noisy bar, or a shared bottle of wine in a friend's back garden on a sunny afternoon. For the three of us, those shared shots of Sambuca (which I hate the taste of btw) become a nightly ritual that I complained about, but looked forward to at the same time.

Drinking stories used to be all about How Wasted We Got Last Night. Stories of wandering through forests to collect firewood, throwing up in bushes, singing in the streets, mixing rank tasting "shooters", staying up all night, or pretending to row a canoe down the middle a busy road (not my story to tell but yes, it was a real canoe) - all crazy things that have turned into pretty great memories. Our friends didn't drink as much as some of the other kids did, but we definitely had our fun.

In university, drinking became a sport: How Many Shots Can You Take? or Let's Get Drunk in the Pub before our 4th year Thesis exam and See if The Professors Notice! (They did. But the exam was worth 3% of our final grade and thankfully the professors were both pretty cool people. Apparently it was funny when my friend Loren mis-counted my grade twice while marking my paper, finally writing "Good work!" and handing it in for somebody else to figure out. Later they joked about measuring the effects of alcohol of certain people's test scores. Oh and if you're wondering, I got an 82.) Even Teacher's College was like that. Our section would go out once in awhile, hoping for a legendary night that we'd tell stories about years later. Headaches and sore feet in the morning warned us that we were getting a little too old for crazy bar nights, but we did it anyway.

Now many of my friends are Responsible Grown-ups with houses and mortgages and children. The days of watermelon bombs and jello shots have been replaced with card games, bottles of wine and a couple of mixed drinks. The nights of drinking and dancing for hours are few and far between.

I miss the way British people meet in their local every Friday afternoon to chat with friends and enjoy a bag of chips or game of pool before heading home. It's a sense of comradery, of getting together to celebrate the end of another work week. They're full of stories, so you can sit for hours just listening as you sip a pint and smile because there's nowhere else you'd rather be than with your friends. Despite varying levels of inebriation, those nights were not about the alcohol.

My life in Canada is completely different. I see my friends every other week, usually for coffee or a few hours at somebody's house. We laugh and talk and enjoy each other's company, but we're not part of each other's daily lives anymore. People get older, couple up and then make their own little worlds. Which is probably the way it's meant to be but a part of me misses the days when we were more involved in each other's lives. But we're growing up, and as we make our own families it's time to let go of the lives we used to lead.

So, with my last shot of Bailey's, I raise my glass to all of the friends who've come and gone from my life. To the high school adventures and crazy stories from university, to the people who've helped shape the person I've become. To those I'll never see again, but will also never forget. To the friends who've become family. To the times I should remember, but can't.

And to the clinking of glasses and good times that are still ahead.

Cheers!

I'm baaaack

2008-08-27T21:46:00.008-04:00

for now anyway...

We're home from the lake and already getting ready for Trip #2 - Labour Day weekend on Pelee Island. This weekend we'll be scouting out the winery to get information that will help us decide whether or not we're getting married there. So we're both pretty excited, and I barely care that the living room looks like somebody's messy basement or garage. If we were little, we'd be building a fort out of coolers, sleeping bags and other random things cluttering up the room. Instead we're making lists and checking batteries, but somehow it's still fun...

The past couple of weeks has been a whirlwind, despite being on holidays. There has been good news and sad news and laughter and tears, many of which I won't take the time to write about now.
I temporarily forgot about my Lifestyle Change and ate ridiculous amounts of not-so-healthy food (mmmm poutine) and now keep looking at my ass in the mirror wondering why my pants are fitting so tight. It takes forever to lose 10 pounds, but all I need to do is eat a few bad foods and BAM! my ba-donka-donk has some extra donk. Hopefully we can do lots of walking this weekend, otherwise I might have to pull out the jeans that were delegated to the back of closet after getting too big to wear.

On a happier note, there were boat rides, campfires, long walks, fabulous dinners, and lots of great times spent with family. We had a surprise party for my Mom's birthday on Monday, complete with cake and some Mad Science fun. I had a hell of a lot of fun and probably won't settle back into work mode until after Labour Day weekend.

Which is totally fine with me :)

And so, off I go again for several days - be back after Labour Day! Hope you all have a safe & happy long weekend!

On holidays

2008-08-15T09:06:00.003-04:00

For the next 10 days, I'll be up at the lake. Which means that my blogging plans will be put on hold until after that time. There might be a few quick posts, but otherwise, I'll be back on the 25th.

See you soon!!

How watching a movie can save a life

2008-08-12T22:51:00.003-04:00

Just a few minutes ago, I came upon this unbelievable website: http://freejennanow.com/

For those of you who don't watch The Office, you might not care about this, but Jenna Fischer has been kidnapped by Rainn Wilson!!!!! Visit FreeJennaNow for more information about how YOU can help save our beloved Pam (oops, I mean Jenna).

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EDIT: It looks like this story has a happy ending after all. Visit Crystal's blog for a very touching account on how Red Robin is making up for their mistakes.

In other horrible news, an employee at a Red Robin restaurant in the USA has stolen a child's Gameboy - it was left behind by a little girl.. When her mother arrived to pick up the lost toy the next morning, she was informed that the GameBoy was gone.

For more details and to lend a word of support, please visit: http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/

Tagged

2008-08-07T21:40:00.009-04:00

A few weeks ago, Sully tagged me for a meme. Since I've been living the lazy blogger life for the past little while, I left it on the backburner till "there was time" to write. (As those of you who visit here know, there hasn't been a lot of that lately)

(By the way - thank you to Sully not only for introducing us to the generous use of parentheses (aren't they great?!) and also the very sweet shout-out in his last post. If you don't read his blog, please go over to visit - you never know what you'll find there, but it's always fabulous!)

Here are the rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog; some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

HERE ARE THE SEVEN FACTS!

#1 My favourite reality show is "Britain's Got Talent"
I blame YouTube for this completely. Once, when visiting one of my favourite blogs, I found a video of Paul Potts, the winner of the 2007 series. His voice is incredible: After that, I started clicking on the "Related Videos" and completely fell in love with the show. Even this year's series was fantastic, with yet another winner who was very deserving. They don't compete for money - instead it's to perform in the Royal Variety, which means in front of the Queen or Prince Charles.

Here's this year's winner:

I dare anybody to visit YouTube and not get addicted to watching these amazingly talented people. It's a great way to spend a rainy afternoon. (If you're not outside in your bathing suit playing in the puddles). (Also their accents are totally awesome to listen to - it's makes me miss Britain a lot.)

#2 I still have one of my baby teeth.
There's no real explanation for this one. Just a weird fact about me that not many people know. On the subject of teeth, I can also say that my wisdom teeth were pulled when I was 18 because of a condition my father developed that they worried it could be genetic, and that the dentist who recommended braces for "cosmetic reasons" was so right and I was so wrong. I thought it was ridiculously vain to have braces just for straighter teeth. So I didn't. Dumbass girl.

#3 I'm addicted to salt.
Like, really, really addicted. So much that I can eat a handful of pickles and then move on to garlic-stuffed olives without needing a drink of water. Since I started my Lifestyle Change and focus on fat, sugar, and sodium in my foods, I've become even more aware of this addiction. Most women would pick chocolate over dill pickle chips if they were given the choice. Me? I'd eat the whole bag of chips then have some olives for dessert. Newly included in this addition is Frank's Red Hot Sauce - the hot wings flavour. Jeremy and I go through a bottle of this every two weeks, dipping every possible variation of chicken, but also shrimp, grilled veggies, and even (once when I'd been drinking) a buttered piece of bread. Oh so delicious!

#4 I know all of the words to The Gambler by Kenny Rogers
This is just one of many... When people would come out to visit during high school they were always amazed at my recollection of song lyrics. Most of the music my brother and I heard growing up were from the 50s and 60s, which means we can karaoke "Rockin' Robin", Joy to the World" and the long version of "American Pie" just as well as today's Top 40 stuff. It's definitely made for some fun car and boat rides...

I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I also know all of the words to this one:

#5 Total strangers tell me their life stories.
(I don't know why this is - maybe it's because I smile at everybody. But no matter where I go, somebody talks to me.)
This has been both a gift and a curse, depending on the stranger. For some, the "strange" in "stranger" describes them perfectly. Just yesterday a man came over to talk to me while I was setting up my station for a large community event. He shook my hand, introduced himself, then started talking about completely random things. Random, but very, very personal things. Like was I married (although he didn't appear to be hitting on me. I think he was just curious.) Like how his ex-girlfriend wasn't a fit mother (wasn't clear if this was his child) and people were telling him she should go for custody of a little girl whose name he didn't use. Then it was on to his job, which also wasn't clear except for something about driving people around. Not sure if he drives a taxi or an ambulance, as his stories could have fit either. I just smiled politely, made comments like "oh wow" or "hmm, that's interesting", and hoped he'd go away. After about 20 minutes of talking, he said it was time to "go and help some of the guys".
The other side of this has led to many interesting meetings with people from all over the world. Maybe it's that I've got a familiar face or something, but they just start talking to me. Many of my current friendships have started because of this, so it's definitely something I'm proud of. It also means that no matter where I travel, I can look forward to fascinating conversations.

#6 My name is written at the top of the Eiffel Tower.If you ever climb to the third floor of the Eiffel Tower, you'll see hundreds of names scrawled around the viewing deck. We wrote ours near the sign for Toronto (there are signs all around the top telling how far you are from various major cities), since it was the closest Canadian city to both London and Sudbury. (I also wrote "M.P. & J.G" on another section, just cause I'm a romantic that way.)

In the spirit of randomness, here is my favourite picture of the Eiffel Tower at night.

And the incredible view:

#7 I swam across my lake. The "looong way", which my Dad thinks is somewhere around 1.5km.*
If you look at the far left hand side of this picture, the other side of the lake is just past there. I couldn't find a better picture to demonstrate the distance, but will definitely be trying when we're up in two weeks.

* I had to add this because I actually did that this summer.

And the tags go to (mostly blogs that are newly discovered, in the spirit of discovering more)

Suldog's talented cousin, David
Matt, at Burning Sky
Jennifer, from Down River Drivel (love, love, love the title of this blog!)
Hilary, at The Smitten Image (maybe if we ask her nicely, she'll include some pictures. She's amazing at those)
The amazing (and way more mature and grown-up than most grown-ups. Although her mom's a pretty terrific grown-up, perhaps explaining her wonderfulness) Twinkie
The Urban Cowgirl (who is a person I would love to meet & share a pint with)
Tamara (a fellow Canadian who's just simply terrific)

That's all for now!

July

2008-08-06T20:08:00.006-04:00

It's been a pretty cool summer so far.

On the 6th of July, my grandmother (mom's mom) turned 94 years old. Here she is looking at a photograph of herself on her wedding day 70 years ago. (My grandparents' anniversary is her birthday)

Oliver was born on July 8th, adding to the list of wonderful things in this world.

Summertime always means trips to see our families. Here are some of Jeremy's family (I'm marrying into a good-looking family huh):

My brother & I

Believe it or not, the lady standing on her head will be celebrating her 78th birthday this month. Pretty amazing huh!

My mom and her "grand-dog"

My brother got a dog a little while ago. Her name is Lola and everybody wanted to keep her. (Here she is trying to get the last bit of my Spanish coffee. On a spoon. Then on the glass.)

Some baby robins just about to learn to fly - poor things were pretty crowded in that nest, including a fourth one who basically was stuck at the bottom. He didn't leave the nest until a full day after his siblings were gone.

There have been some pretty impressive sunsets so far this summer.

The silver lining

And the view from the boat has been amazing as always...

When I got home from the lake, the first thing I did was check the garden.

In less than a month, the new school year begins. Along with my career. As excited as I am to start teaching, I intend to enjoy August just as much as July.

Back soon! (for real this time)

With arms wide open

2008-08-05T15:04:00.003-04:00

I thought I might be done with blogging. Tired of forcing stories to sound "interesting" and not getting many (or any) comments on posts that took ages to write, I've become disenchanted with the whole process. Even now as I write this, I'm distracted by other things. Despite a very eventful year, things feel as stale as the bag of chips we bought last week and forgot to keep closed. Ironically, I still take great pleasure in reading everybody's blogs, although even writing comments has also become a rarity.

Part of my difficulty stems from the tiny fraction of visitors to this site. Of these, there are even fewer people who respond to my posts. Despite the fact that I'm not some narcissist who needs approval or constant attention from the entire world, I do have a hard time motivating myself to write when there's only 1 person who comments here regularly (I hope he knows just how much I appreciate that).

A good friend of mine who reads this blog told me "you write so well that I never know what else to say". Others tell me in person that they enjoyed something they read the other day. It's come to the point that I never remember who reads my blog and who doesn't - which is fine (I promise!) but after spending an hour writing something that you hope will get a reaction from the world, which then shows 1 comment - you do find yourself losing interest in your own opinion.

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During high school, my friends and I were very involved in music. Playing instruments, singing, participating in choirs and school plays, we were constantly immersed in it. Two of our friends were singers who would regularly get solos, sing in bands or get lead parts in plays - they were The Singers of the group. I desperately wanted to join them. Ever since I was little, I've loved to sing, and having been blessed with an ear for music, can usually stay in pitch. After years of singing in the church choir, I finally forced myself to ignore the dark whisper of stage fright and tried out for some things. My best friend always told me I had a great voice, and to this day she encourages my singing (even though I'll never try out for Canadian Idol like she tells me to), but nobody else had much to say. I interpreted this to mean that my voice wasn't really much of anything, and despite a few moments in the spotlight, kept back and let The Singers do most of the performing.

Yes, this was certainly my hang-up. The problem was compounded by another girl in our group of friends who thought she was fabulous, but couldn't seem to hold the pitch of a note for longer than a beat, and took on a screechy quality when hitting the high notes. But everybody (myself included) told her she was great because we loved her as a person. The lack of reaction to my own singing started making me wonder whether or not previous compliments had been as false as the ones we'd kindly passed to our other friend.

To this day, I still hold myself back - unable to just let it go and enjoy the feeling of joining together with a great song, lifting my voice and celebrating every note. There are very few people who have ever heard me really sing.

Today, I read a post Sully wrote about how grown-ups have forgotten to feel the joy of a moment the ways kids do. Playing in the rain, running so fast that you feel like your legs are going to fall off, laughing so hard that you get tears in your eyes and a sore stomach. Now we worry about getting our hair wet, or looking silly as we run, or whether or not people think we're uncool.

His post reminded me of singing on stage during a school play - getting lost in the character was easier than trying to sing a contemporary song - I stood proudly, voice raised, the regular world outside of the bubble of the story we were in. During the chorus, my eyes drifted to the audience where The Singers were sitting. Flashing a grin at them, I expected a knowing smile back - they were my friends after all. Instead I saw coolness and something close to irritation in both of their eyes.

Luckily my parents raised a confident daughter. Not giving a damn about their lack of support, I finished the night's performance without another thought for either of them. But when the night was over, I remembered. And gradually I let the doubt overshadow the joy of performing.

It's experiences like that night that make us forget to enjoy life the way children can. A friend of mine has a daughter who lives her life in a song. She's always singing - even her conversations are musical. Will she still be so joyful and upbeat at 20?

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This past weekend Jay and I went to visit his family for the annual Canal Days festival. A weekend of live music, great conversation, exploring the waterfront, drinking beer under the stars, and all sorts of other great things - we enjoyed every minute while waiting for Sunday night's fireworks display. Every year the fireworks are incredible, and this year was no exception.

Settling down with chairs, we watched the sky explode with colour.

Each year, the people who put on the display pause after a particularly amazing set of fireworks, tricking the thousands crowded along the Canal into thinking the show is over. The second time they did this, a group of people in front of us immediately jumped up, grabbing their chairs and dashing back to the road. They were in such a hurry that they almost missed the third set.

Shaking our heads at how impatience rules the lives of so many, we looked up as a series of blindingly bright lights careened through the black sky. There were so many fireworks going off that nobody knew where to look. As the noise and colour continued, I looked over at everybody, seeing utter awe in their eyes. Aunt Kim was grinning ear to ear, an expression mirrored on all of our faces. Jaws dropped and hands clapping, I remember thinking that this moment was one of that rare joy that you feel deep down in your belly.

Tired, over-worked, even cynical adults sat there that night laughing like carefree toddlers. In those few minutes we were free from everything.

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I'm not sure what the main point of this post is supposed to be. It took on a lot of twists and turns, including a direction that was completely unexpected. If I was to boomerang back to the beginning, I guess it would be to say that I'm still blogging because of where the process of writing takes me. And things it teaches me. That if you don't have a comment to this post, don't feel obligated to write one - I didn't write about that as a guilt-trip.

If you're reading this, I'm issuing you a challenge: go out and play in the rain. Climb a tree. Do a cannon-ball jump into your pool. Chase your dog through the park. Dance and sing like nobody's watching. Do something that makes you feel like you're five years old with a gigantic bag of candy in your hands and a best friend to share it with. It's easier said than done, yes, but take a moment to LIVE. And while you're enjoying that moment, don't let anyone or anything stop your fun.

And if you're a blogger, write about it. We need more stories like that.

That's all for now...

This Story Needs to Have a Happy Ending

2008-07-24T09:01:00.005-04:00

I haven't published anything about this and am still coming to grips with something so horrifying that I forced myself to pretend it wasn't possible. We finally have the answer to the "what if?" question that's been in the back of everyone's mind since April, and now I find myself wishing I could turn back the clock several months. Back to a time when my best friend's pregnancy was a joyful occasion to celebrate. It still is, but something lurks in the background, unseen, but always, always there.

My motivation to write this is three-fold. I need to write through my feelings in the vain hope of trying to understand them, I also want my message of support to my best friend and her family to be a hell of a lot more eloquent than a sleepily typed Facebook message. Finally, I want to send this out to the blogosphere in the hopes of gaining more supporters for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.

(Just typing out that last sentence reduced me to a blubbering mess. Somehow passing on this bit of news makes it even more real.)

I need to rewind this back a few months to explain...

When Kim told me she was pregnant with she & Steve's second child, I was ecstatic for them. Here are two people I've known more than half of my life - old friends who I can remember camping with in the bush in high school, taking road trips with, visiting during University, tearfully watching get married, and then meeting their beautiful little son, Gordie. As one of many witnesses to their lives I can tell those of you who don't know them that they are pretty damn fabulous people. Family is first with them, and if any two people should get together and write a book about how to be a great parent, it's them.

When Gordie was born, I was stuck in Windsor, two hours away. I wasn't at the hospital the next day, nor did I make it there until the little one had been around for two weeks.

(The guilt from Not Being There has always been in the back of my mind, coupled with the regret that I didn't show the kind of support I should have. I'll always feel like I should have been there right away.)

As always in her generous nature, Kim never held this against me. Or at least she never told me that she did. Even better than that, she asked me to be in the waiting room when it was time to have her second child. This honor is certainly listed among the most important things I've ever done in my life.

But I digress.

Back in April, they received the terrifying news that nobody should ever have to hear: something might be wrong with their baby. An ultrasound had found calcification in the baby's abdomen. Steve's account of this is so haunting and well-written that I wouldn't dream of trying to get into the details. The symptoms pointed to several possibilities, one of which was Cystic Fibrosis. Having gotten the news first on Facebook, I tried to think of something, anything that I could say to my old friends that would bring some hope, some comfort. Little gestures, hugs, words of support - all things they definitely need, but I wished I could do more. That feeling of helplessness is probably going to be a rock on my shoulders for many years...

When Oliver Armand Loney was born, everybody celebrated and cried with joy. We waited for a couple of hours after Steve announced his birth, then washed up to visit the new arrival. I stared down in awe at the tiny baby who just hours before had been a bump in his mommy's tummy, thinking that I'd do anything for him. We all commented on his colour, his chubby cheeks and legs, his dark eyes and hair, and tried to decide if he looked like his big brother or not. Nobody mentioned that he was hooked up to scary-looking monitors or the tubes coming in and out of him as he lay in the NICU.

He was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit because of a possible blockage that "possibly would result in surgery". After a lot of praying and waiting, we heard the news that he was physically fine and after some frustrating days, they brought him home.

The news seemed better every day. But lurking in the background was the possibility (a 1 in 4 chance) that Oliver would have CF. Coupled with the pre-natal symptoms, the doctors were fairly certain he was going to have it. Despite this we all hoped a miracle would happen...

Denial is such a useful defense mechanism. I told myself that I'd keep really positive and say lots of prayers and that maybe, just maybe they would have good news to share. Sometimes I really believed that the results would be negative. Despite being haunted by images of the little boy who will call me Auntie Mel (like his brother does) hooked up to machines, I convinced myself that this wouldn't, couldn't happen for real. No way was this beautiful child going to grow up feeling choked and taking dozens of pills a day. No way was he going to have hundreds of doctor's appointments before he starts Kindergarten. No way was my best friend and her wonderful husband going to go through so much pain. No way was this tiny child who looked so healthy going to have a life expectancy of 37 years.

37 years.

How does a person handle this? How do you face the fact that your child is going to likely have many medical problems? How can any person look into the face of their son or daughter and know you will likely outlive them?

Nothing could possibly be more heartbreaking than this.

And so the only thing I can think of is to put up a link in my blog for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (if anybody knows how I can put this on my links in the sidebar with a picture, I'd really appreciate that help) and beg anybody who has the financial means to please, please donate money to the cause.

Denial might be raising its ugly head again, but I honestly believe that some day this terrible disease can be beaten.

It just has to.

My fiance never buys me flowers

2008-07-14T20:06:00.005-04:00

Before I begin this post (using the word "begin" loosely since this topic has been sitting in my drafts for some time now, and I finally started writing it a few days ago, only to become distracted by life once again thusly forgetting all about it), I would like to wish my parents a very Happy Anniversary.

Today is July 17th - the same date that falls on a Saturday in 2010, which is the year Jeremy and I are planning to get married. If we get married on July 17th, 2010, it will be my parents' 39th anniversary. That means that their 40th anniversary would be our first. Pretty cool if you ask me...

I always dreamed that the man I'd someday marry would be a complete romantic.

When I was a teenager, I imagined this meant he would bring me flowers and sing me songs - all of the sappy junk you find in movies and beach books. I imagined long conversations, candlelight, holding hands and backrubs and slow dancing under the stars.

My dating history isn't very long, and I was lucky to have relationships with some pretty good guys (although not every guy I dated would qualify as Mr. Wonderful...), so there was the occasional bouquet of flowers, walk on the beach, or song dedication. I even dated a guy who used to sing and play the guitar (although he wasn't singing TO me as much as just in the same room as me). By the time I met Jeremy, I was older and no longer looking for Mr. Perfect Romantic-Comedy Hero. Or anybody at all. After a long and painful relationship with a person who seemed to bring out the worst in me, I was ready to have fun being single for awhile.

This wasn't to be.

Right away we were so comfortable with each other that it seemed like we'd met years ago. Being the incurable romantic that I am, I floated into a starry-eyed crush that surprised all of my friends, since he's younger and different than the other guys I'd been interested in. They all carefully advised me to have fun but 'be careful'. It was hard not to like him though - he was sweet and funny and made me happy. Before long he'd moved in with me and after 6 weeks we settled into a committed relationship. As scary as this sounds (and probably should sound) it made sense for us.

We went through all of the usual things that new couples do - meeting families and friends, spending lots of time together, talking for hours, etc. It wasn't until we'd been together for a couple of years that I noticed he'd never bought me flowers. Or a birthday card. We didn't even have a "song". There were no grand romantic gestures, no hand-holding during long walks. He didn't say sweet things to me or call me beautiful. And for a little while, I worried about what the absence of those things meant...

Several months ago

"Ugh. What a day. I can't wait to go home, pour myself a drink and soak in a nice bath for at least an hour".

"I can make you a bath."

"Thanks honey - that would be great."

Around 8:30 that evening, I heard that water running. While I sat in front of my computer, he walked around the apartment collecting candles, then opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. Without a word, he lit candles, set my wine glass on the floor, found my book, and made a very nice bubble bath.

"Your bath's ready, old lady".

Looking up at the man who doesn't buy flowers because "they die" and never gives me cards because he "never knows which ones to get", I realized that he's been making me a bath since we first moved in together, always with the same routine. If I mention being tired or having sore muscles or even being cold, he offers to make me a bath. He also makes my drinks for me all the time. Like ALL the time. And gets me blankets when I'm cold. He buys low-fat milk, Coke Zero and never complains when the only snacks in the cupboard are rice crisps. He kisses me on the forehead and rubs my shoulders when I'm sore. And he'll try his best to make me smile or laugh whenever I'm sad. He let me have the closet in our bedroom. He always remembers to leave the porch light on for me.

Oh, and instead of buying me flowers, he let me adjust our budget so I could bring home enough plants to make a garden.

Further evidence for how Bush got re-elected

2008-06-30T00:16:00.002-04:00

I usually try to be open-minded about things. Unfortunately, you can't say the same for everybody in this world.

Check this article out.

Nothing scares me more than the fact that people in the USA still think Obama is an unpatriotic Muslim who believes everything taught by Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Unless it's the people who won't vote for him because his name is one letter off from Osama.

Please America - STOP THE MADNESS.

I am Canadian (part 2)

2008-06-29T21:56:00.002-04:00

"Canadianisms"

People always had comments or questions when they found out I was from Canada. It was amazing to see firsthand what the rest of the world thought about us.

From a person who'd never met a Canadian before: "So you're from Canada huh?! That's cool. I like Canadians."

A fellow teacher: "I've always wanted to visit Canada. We're thinking of going for a few days next year on our way to New York. Maybe visit Toronto and Vancouver for a weekend then drive down to the States."

A student: "Miss! Your country looks like a giant forest!"

A stranger in a bar: "Right. So you're Canadian. That means you love ice hockey right? The Maple Leafs right?"

Another acquaintance: "You're from Canada, huh? Do you guys really say "eh" all the time?"

(Interestingly, I find myself saying "eh" a lot more when outside of the country.)

When I was in high school, I took great pleasure in perpetuating many of the classic Canadian stereotypes with my friends. On the way to NYC in grade 11, we stopped at a McDonald's in upstate New York and upon hearing a cashier joke about the place being lousy with Canadians (not meanly, just teasingly), we started saying things like "Hey! This place has indoor outhouses EH!" Or "I would like a POP please".

As the bus pulled away from the restaurant (as she cringes at calling McDonald's a "restaurant"), we started joking around about all of the Canadianisms out there, especially ones we'd heard from Americans. These are all real comments, mostly coming from Americans we'd met in Florida during holidays to Disney World:

Any Canadians north of Toronto live in igloos.

We all know how to ice skate and are proficient snow-shoers.

We all love hockey and cheer for the Maple Leafs.

We all love maple syrup on our ham.

We have "weird" bacon. (FYI: Canadian bacon, or back bacon, is called "country ham" in North Carolina)

We're all extremely friendly and polite.

We wear plaid all the time, and all have giant pairs of snow-boots.

We all know each other. ("Hey, you're from Canada?! Do you know Joe Smith from Toronto?")

We all speak French (this is actually a common misconception from many countries)

As soon as you're north of the border, it's winter ALL THE TIME.

We have the best beer in the world. (While it could be argued that other countries have been tasting beer, not one Canadian in the world will admit it. We have an entire series of commercials dedicated to how awesome our beer is.)

When it comes to well-known Canadians, people will most often comment on our hockey heroes, but a few knowledgeable folk realize that many celebrities come from north of the border. Here are just a few:
Diana Krall
Pamela Anderson
Jim Carey
Leonard Cohen
Sarah McLachlan
Evangeline Lily
Kim Cattrall (although we share her with England)
Nelly Furtado
Tom Green (yep, we're very proud)
Ryan Reynolds
Burton Cummings
Dan Akroyd

And then there's this guy:

But no matter what crazy things people have said to me about our country, the overwhelming majority of them had great respect for our people and land.

One of my all-time favourite quotes about Canada comes from That 70's Show:

"I just wish there was someplace in the world where prejudice didn't exist"
"Well that's Canada.Yep, Good old Canada. They don't make generalizations about people cause they're too busy playing hockey or getting drunk or putting maple syrup on their ham".

No doot aboot it!

I am Canadian (part 1)

2008-06-26T21:54:00.003-04:00

When I was teaching overseas last year, I used to tell the children stories about life in Canada. They were fascinated by the thought of another London all the way across the ocean that had trees everywhere and a Thames River so little that barges couldn't go down it. They stared at the pictures of both Londons and couldn't believe how different they looked. The most difficult concept for the kids was how Canada could be so much bigger than England but our London was so much smaller than it's namesake.

It was a point of great pride for me to show them how green everything was here - how huge the yards are and how clean the lakes. By Easter half of the class was determined to visit Canada one day.

I've traveled from one end of this country to the other, swam in the oceans on each coast, and driven through mountains and prairies. I've walked on the cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, seen hockey games in Edmonton, Calgary, and Toronto, explored Stanley Park in Vancouver, seen the Cabot Trail, and flown over large cities and small towns. I've seen Canada by car, bus, train, plane, and boat.

I know my country. And it just makes me even more proud to be Canadian.

"It runs on water, man!"

2008-06-20T00:09:00.006-04:00

Check this out:

And now this.

like Graduation Day

2008-06-11T20:23:00.004-04:00

"Hey, how does this look?" I asked a sleepy Jeremy, turning around in the outfit I'd chosen for the day.

He said the same thing he always does: "good".

Seeing a twenty-pound-lighter self in the mirror, I realized that my lifestyle change (two months so far of eating healthier foods and regular exercise) was paying off. I still have more to lose, but I'm happy to be where I'm at right now too.

Today felt like Graduation Day.

I drove down Oxford street with a smile on my face, singing along with the radio as the breeze played with my hair. As the buildings slipped by, I realized that everything that has happened in the last two years was exactly what was supposed to happen.

I am now a registered teacher with our school board.

And as it turns out, the majority of the 40 new hires in the room today had long term classroom experience. Or ties with some of the schools through volunteering, etc. So going to England actually helped me get here. And working for Mad Science did too.

As it turns out, we did everything right.

We might be in a scary financial hole, we might be renting still, and having to wait until Summer 2010 to get married, but we still did everything right. Yes, there were some dumb choices, but that's always part of the process - we all need to make mistakes.

As I pulled into the driveway after today's orientation, I wandered over to my garden to check on my flowers, beans, and watermelon plants and thought about what the staffing officer had said to me before I left:

"All good things come to those who wait. Well, no, actually all good things come in September."

I hate to disagree, but I've learned that even though some parts of your life might completely suck, there are always good things happening along with the bad.

And there will be a LOT of good things before September...

and so it ends

2008-06-07T21:28:00.004-04:00

It's 9:30pm on a humid Saturday night and here I sit in my pajamas sipping a beer and whining about my tired feet. Our big event has come to a close and I'm reflecting on the job with mixed emotions. The temperatures here rose into the high 30s (that's into the 100s for my American friends), carrying a humidity that reminded me of summertime in North Carolina. We went through over 1200 bottles of water in the past 4 days - and luckily only had 1 person with heat stroke (a teacher, who was rushed away in an ambulance).

We now have the final reports to write, the packing and boxing of supplies to complete, thank you cards to write, and suggestions for next year's staff - most of which should take until the end of June.

During this time, I'll return to my Mad Scientist persona, will have my orientation with the school board (yay!) and will be praying to find another part-time job to take me into September. I'll have a social life again and will get to tend to my garden (bean plants sprouting, watermelon vines growing, flowers blooming - it's amazing how great it's doing considering my lack of care during the last couple of weeks). Life should be back to normal.

Tomorrow is my first day off of work in over a month. I plan to enjoy every minute of it.

Top Ten Reasons Why Sleep Deprivation isn't So Bad

2008-06-01T00:38:00.004-04:00

For the last two months I've been working for a non-profit organization that is holding a major (20,000+ visitors) event here in the London area. As the clock marches toward the opening day, things are steadily becoming crazier. Unfortunately for our group, none of us were part of this organization last year and have no idea whether or not we are even doing our jobs right. Luckily, our small team is motivated enough to go for hours without sleep for the next week and will try our best to ensure that there are no thefts, explosions, fires, lost children, or people yelling at us.

I probably won't be writing again until the event is over (and I blame the preparation for me being such a terrible blogger lately), since I plan to try and sleep for at least a little while after the 15 hour days that are looming like thunderclouds in the horizon.

And (taking Sully's sage advice posted in a previous comments section) here is the bright side of all of this:

Why Sleep Deprivation Isn't So Bad

10. My appreciation for the deliciousness of coffee has tripled - it is now the single greatest drink to ever be invented

9. I no longer care about what my hair looks like in the morning (which saves me HOURS each week in getting ready for work)

8. It is now possible to have a cat nap sitting up (or do we call this "passing out"?)

7. Jeremy has taken over the Doing the Dishes chore - which allows me to sit and relax for a few minutes before working some more (and he makes me bubble baths without asking)

6. The noise my neighbour's annoying boyfriend makes with his car stereo and rock music no longer jolts me awake at all hours of the night (FYI: This noise also wakes other neighbours. He apparently thinks his noise is justifiable because the cats run around across the floor at night and actually asked his girlfriend how we could complain about the noise if our cats were being so annoying at night. By running across the floor. As a result she asked if we could control our cats and make stop running around at night. I did try to have a conversation with them about it, but just got a blank look and a "meow" (translation: where's my food?!) in response. I hope he has better luck convincing his car stereo to quiet down after midnight)

5. I can snore and not feel guilty about it ("I'm so tired - sorry if i'm snoring again!")

4. I can get a buzz from 1 rum & coke (love being a cheap drunk!)

3. It is now possible to wake up at 7:30am without an alarm clock (seriously - we haven't set the alarm in WEEKS)

2. I can entertain myself much more easily - by watching YouTube videos or reruns of That 70's Show until I fall asleep in my chair (sitcoms are a lot funnier right now)

1. Things that probably aren't funny are now hilarious (and I don't even need the aforementioned rum & coke!). This includes my own writing. For this I can only apologize.

With that (possibly terrible) post, I leave you for the week. Following the event, I'll hopefully find time to write more often since there is a LOT to tell.

until then - sweet dreams!

I wish I could wave like that

2008-05-31T23:43:00.000-04:00

A Letter Came in the Mail Today

2008-05-29T23:10:00.001-04:00

"Dear Melinda Peterson,

We are happy to confirm your recommendation for our Occasional Teaching List.

You have been scheduled for an orientation session on Wednesday, June 11th"

Translation: I get to start my teaching career in September.

After months of ups and downs, this letter made me realize that not only am I going to FINALLY get to start teaching, but that everything leading up to now has absolutely been worth it.

Kitty wars

2008-05-18T13:44:00.005-04:00

In addition to working two jobs (one of which is planning a major public event to be held in less than 3 weeks), maintaining a "New & Healthy Lifestyle" (which involves extended trips to grocery stores in search of foods I'm allowed to eat), and trying to factor in a social life and downtime at home, we are also cat-sitting for a friend.

"D needs somebody to take care of his cat for a few days. Shouldn't be longer than the weekend".

HA.

(It's been a MONTH. With no end in sight.)

Anybody who has cats knows that introducing a new one into a household takes time and lots of patience. The cat we're taking care of, Hunter, is a Big Orange Kitty, and is so timid and jumpy that you'd think he'd never been around people before. He's three times the size of Chase and for the first three nights was so afraid of him that he'd yowl whenever Chase came into view.

I wish cats could talk:

Big Orange Kitty: Hmmm, okay new house, new people around - I don't like it much, but at least they feed and pet me lots. Maybe I'll come out from behind the chair for a bit... Ohmygod! AAaaaahhhhhhhh! It's ANOTHER cat! And he's COMING RIGHT FOR ME! RUUUUUN!!!

Chase: Dum-de-dum, what to do, what to do. Think I'll roll around on the floor for a bit, then run around like something is chasing me. The People Who Feed Me always seem to enjoy that. If I'm extra cute, maybe I'll get a TREAT again! Hey - wait a minute! What's the big orange thing over there? I better growl at it just in case it wants to eat my food or something.

Growling and teeth baring ensues.

At first, this process was pretty funny. Hunter would growl, then turn tail and hide while Chase perched atop random chairs and window ledges to peer down at him. The problem with The Big Orange Kitty is that his timidness runs to pretty much everything:

from the sound of my ring tinging against a glass (RUN AWAY! WE'RE BEING BOMBED!)

to people walking towards him (AHHH! SOMETHING BIG IS APPROACHING! MAYBE IT WANTS TO EAT ME!!)

to the sound of the vacuum (THAT'S IT - I'M NEVER COMING OUT FROM UNDER THE BED! NEVER!).

Before Hunter realized the vacuum is where the Loud Scary Noises come from

The poor cat seems to operate on one of two levels: 1. Mild fearfulness, with some tolerated petting; 2. Abject terror. As a result, every noise startles him - and for the first three nights we were treated to a symphony of thumps, growling, yowling, and occasionally the world's scariest snarling noise. I guess at nighttime The Big Orange Kitty likes to pretend he's waaay bigger and scarier than during the day: Chase would approach him slowly, Hunter would growl. A few steps closer, then the yowling begins "mmmmmrrrowwwwwwwww". A step closer and (the world's most) evil snarling would erupt from the cat who spends his entire day hiding from everything that moves - including cat toys. A few times a night he would screech in Chase's face so loudly that I'd jump straight out of bed and run into the living room.

I'm happy to report that this has finally ceased and the cats now seem to get along. On Hunter's fourth morning with us, Jeremy found them sitting side by side in the living room as though they'd been friends all along.

Chase takes great pleasure in stalking his new big orange friend, and will hide in corners for several minutes just for the chance to jump out and scare the hell out of him. Since we haven't had a larger cat around for a few years now, I'd forgotten how funny it is to see a big cat hauling ass as fast as he can from one end of the house to another.

The owner of the Big Orange Kitty came up with an interesting comparison earlier in the week during his visit (during which Hunter behaved perfectly and barely emitted a meow, let alone the devil-cat snarling we were treated to before and after he came by). Hunter was curled up under a blanket, behind the chair, hiding as usual, while Chase lounged atop one of my Mad Science kits.

"Wow, Chase is such a Display Kitty!"

At our confused looks, he explained that a Display Kitty is one who will make a point of lounging in the middle of the floor, on top of couches and chairs, etc. as though everybody should be looking at him. A Display Kitty will also complain if he's not the center of attention and spends most of his time around people.

In contrast is Hunter's type: the Hiding Kitty. These cats rarely come out from underneath beds or behind chairs, will not respond to their names, run away from people who try to pet them, and can go the entire day without being seen.

Regardless of whether a cat is a Display Kitty or a Hiding Kitty, they all like to run around and play. Which these two do pretty much constantly, making our once-peaceful apartment the venue of an on-going production called Kitty Wars:

Anybody know how to train a cat to sleep at night?

Mom

2008-05-11T09:35:00.004-04:00

Yup, this is WAY late - I'm currently working two jobs, one of which has something major coming up in three weeks. As a result I don't have time to spend with my fiance or my cats, much less my blog. I do have a very cool idea (in my opinion) for a post and will hopefully have it up on the weekend. Thanks to those of you who are still coming around - most of you never comment, but I love you anyway ;)

Last year when I wrote a post for Mother's Day, I was in my new place in Hackney, East London. Now I'm back on the other side of the world, but the 6 hour car trip up to Sudbury might as well be on the other side of the Atlantic too. Once again, I don't get to make my mom Cheerios and grape juice for breakfast or give her a hug and thank her for being MY mom. I won't see any of the moms who are so special to me and are amazing examples of what it means to be "mom". So I'm wiping the dust from my keyboard and the cobwebs out of my brain and will try to write a post worthy of the incredible women in my life called "Mom".

My cousin's wife and their gorgeous baby girl, Adele

The Friend Mommies

Several of my friends are parents now - it's inevitable at 29 years old that stories of bar nights and road trips have changed into tales of nightmare poop incidents (I've talked more about poop in the last year than I ever thought possible) and adorable "you'll never guess what ___ did yesterday"s. When a person who've known for most of your life becomes a parent, the whole dynamic of your relationship changes. Your friend's life is suddenly alien to you: late nights without sleeping for weeks (or months) on end, diaper stories, kids getting sick, etc. They apologize for disappearing for days on end without contact, but you don't mind because you understand how important their new title is. "Mommy".

"Hey Mel - I had to call and tell you something!"

"What's up?"

"____ used the potty for the first time today!"

Cue "Auntie Mel" cheering into her cell phone, ignoring the perplexed stares of her colleagues.

"So - what was that all about?" one of them asked.

"My nephew used the potty for the first time"! I proudly announce, watching the faces of those without kids change from smiling to confused. And thus was my public inauguration into honorary Auntiehood.

Thinking about this later, I realized that one of the great joys of being a Mom was going to be celebrating all of those little milestones. And not for the first time, I hoped that I'd be half as good of a mom as she is.

The first time I heard Gordie call Kim "Mommy" I actually teared up a little. After a year abroad, it was amazing to see that the teeny little people who stared up at me with wide eyes, cuddled in sleepers and completely helpless had turned into a little boys who talk, sing, run around and play. I can't explain my feelings for these boys - all I can say is that I would do anything for them. Both of the two-year olds I refer to as "nephews" are well-adjusted, intelligent, inquisitive, and sweet children. If I thought it was possible to get my friends to write an instructional manual on how to be a good parent, I'd bug them daily.

Mother-in-Law (to be)

Every single person who knows about my engagement has asked me about my mother-in-law to be: "is she nice?" or "how do you get along?". Lucky for me I get to tell them how fabulous she is.
If there was ever a person to embody the world "fabulous", it's Laurie. Gorgeous red hair and a personality unlike any other, she both scared the hell out of me and made me adore her when I met her for the first time. How can you not adore a person who introduces herself like this:

"Hi, I'm Laurie. J's mom. I'm the one you have to suck up to!" (With a wink and a smile.)

This was followed by "Hi, I'm J's Aunt Kim - I'm the nice one!"

It took very little time to fall in love with his family.

The funny thing about meeting a significant other's mom is how badly you want them to approve of you (at least that's how it is for me). With Laurie, I didn't just want her to like me because of Jeremy though - I wanted her to like me because I thought she was so great.

She's the maker of delicious (and low fat!) deserts, the lender of many books, an afternoon napper, an ultra-competitive card player, and a friend I'm honoured to have. She doesn't know this, but I brag about how great she is to all of my friends, and how grateful I am that she's a part of my life.

Grandmothers

Both of my parents' mothers lived far away from Capreol, so we didn't get to see them often. Trips down south to visit meant being on your best behaviour and telling stories about your ambitions and regular visits to church. I never really thought about them being Mothers until I was older and paid more attention to the interaction between them and my parents. It's funny to see the grin my Nana gives when she talks about my Dad, like he's still a boy in her eyes. As much as I love my grandmothers, I never really connected with the people they are - we just had a different type of relationship.

When I met J's grandmother, Mary, I was completely floored at the way they interacted with each other. All four of her grandchildren absolutely adore her (as do i) but think nothing of razzing her about anything from burnt cookies to her bad hip. She gives it as good as she gets, teasing them right back and taking on a role that I've never seen from a grandparent before. She's another reason I'm thrilled to be marrying Jeremy. (pretty nice family huh)

When I moved back to Canada last July, I mailed a huge package with books, clothes, shoes, souvenirs, and an afghan that Mary had knitted for us for Christmas the previous year. I loved it and cuddled up in it constantly, so when the package failed to arrive here, I was crushed. Being the super-fantastic lady that she is, Mary presented me with a NEW blanket for my birthday this year. It's gorgeous and the best part is that I don't have to pretend that I'm sharing it with Jeremy.

She might burn the cookies sometimes, but she's one hell of a drinking buddy (especially when you're sitting on a giant pile of rocks behind a lighthouse or downing poorly made daiquiris) and a terrific grandmother.

MY Mom
Here are just a few (believe me - there are MANY more things I could write here) things about why my mother is so special:

My Mom was my kindergarten teacher. She helped me to develop a passion for learning and school.

My Mom taught me to read and to really love books.

At Christmas, My Mom would pile all of the wrapping paper in the middle of the living room then take pictures of my brother and I playing in it.

My Mom made elaborate Easter Egg hunts every year, then filmed my brother and I following jelly bean trails and a series of clues to our basket.

My Mom let me have a guinea pig as a pet even thought she KNEW that she would probably be the one taking care of it.

My Mom used to sing to me (until I got older and told her to "stop because it's embarrassing" - sweet kid, huh.)

My Mom made me go to Church EVERY Sunday and worked really hard to see that I had a strong faith in God and in myself.

My Mom keeps trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches, even though she always burns them.

My Mom let me choose to go to Paris even though it wasn't her first choice - because she knew I'd always dreamed of going.

My Mom has made a zillion peanut butter & jam sandwiches (okay, maybe not a zillion, but close) that she'd always cut into fours. I still cut my PB & Js that way.

My Mom used to make the most amazing birthday cakes - all sorts of different shapes, like My Little Pony. She used to put wax-paper-wrapped quarters and loonies into it for all of us to find.

My Mom let me cut my long hair (down to my bum) to shoulder length, then get a spiral perm. The whole process took 6 hours, 365 hair curlers and a large pizza. I felt very grown up being allowed to make such a big decision for myself.

My Mom's blueberry coffee cake disappears 10 minutes after it's baked. (Yes, it's THAT good)

My Mom let my friend Julie practically live at our house for an entire summer. (I think she went home three times) She never once complained about having an extra kid around.

My Mom spoils me. She always has. Luckily she also taught me to appreciate the many blessings in my life.

My Mom brought me to my first NHL game and listened patiently to endless conversations about hockey - even though she didn't really care about the game at all.

My Mom lets me ramble on for hours about nothing - even on long distance calls.

My Mom was the mom that all of my friends thought was "the best". She probably doesn't know this, but they ALL used to comment on her nice she was (and how delicious her cookies are). A hundred sleepovers later - she was still smiling in the morning after shouting at us to GO TO BED at least 10 times during the night.

I wasn't always the nicest person to my Mom. She bore the brunt of my teenage dramatics and we argued a lot when I was in university. I never realized how much my insensitivity or snippy attitude probably hurt her. She always forgave me though. Even know when I feel bad about memories of rude little thing I used to say - she probably has long forgotten about them. (and if not - I'm SORRY again!!) She and my dad taught me to believe in myself, gave me the chance to make mistakes, and supported me even when I did something stupid (and there were LOTS of times when I did something stupid).

No matter where I've gone in this world, what I've done, I always knew My Mom would be there for me. It's a few days past Mother's Day, but never the wrong time to tell My Mom and all of the other wonderful women I've mentioned here how much I love them and that life would not be as sweet if they weren't a part of it.

Still alive

2008-05-05T23:07:00.003-04:00

In response to the very sweet concerns of some of my readers, I thought I'd post a quick "I'm okay, just can't write right now".

There have been a few unexpected twists in my life and I've been doing my best to adjust to them. I have been working on a post that will most likely come out tomorrow or the next day, which explains some of what's been going on at Casa Irwin (our apartment has a great nickname huh?!).

Until then...

Friday Night

2008-04-10T21:27:00.005-04:00

"Hi, Can I please have a pint of Stella and a glass of dry white wine?"

"Sure! Say you and your friends look like you're having fun."

"Yep, we just started our two-week term break! Can't believe it's two weeks without getting up at 6am!"

"Well, have a great night", the bartender smiled.

"Thanks!" I grinned as I made my way back to the tables where my fellow teachers were sitting.

The pub was usually busy on Friday nights, but this one was the start of a two-week school holiday, so people packed three-deep at the bar, and late-comers were forced to stand around with their drinks since there were no free tables. The music over-powered everything else - making people shout to hear one another or escape outside to chat with friends over a smoke.

We were having an amazing time. For the first time since Jeremy left, I'd managed to stop worrying about him being so far away, or the fact that I was going to be alone for 4 months in a foreign country. It felt great to laugh again. Several games of pool were played, pints downed, and horrible 80's songs danced to before it was time to head home.

Normally I didn't enjoy taking the train late at night, but Kelly's brother dropped me off at the station in Bethnal Green, so I only had to take the Central Line home, instead of switching from the Victoria Line first.

I found a wrinkled copy of the London Lite to read on the train, and the stops flew past in a happy blur. There were lots of people on the train, huddled in drunken groups or sitting alone, pretending to ignore the party-goers as they shouted to each other about their night's adventures.

"Oi! I don't CARE that Prince fucking William parties there! I'm not spending 30 quid or 2 hours queuing up just in case we catch a glimpse of His Royal fucking Highness!"

They weren't easy to ignore...

Finally, I reached the Queensway and jumped off the train with a handful of other people. Only a couple more blocks until I'd be home telling my parents about my night. Unfortunately, I realized I had to pee RIGHT NOW, and popped into one of the locals for a quick trip to the ladies' room. Too tipsy to feel guilty, I smiled my way out the door and back onto Bayswater Road. The night was cool and clear, with people wandering around, and traffic winding it's way around the park.

I loved that my neighbourhood was so cool and that my parents were getting a firsthand taste of the British Adventure. Showing off the local shops, the close proximity to Portobello Road and Hyde Park, I loved seeing it all again in their eyes.

"Hi Mom! It's just me! I'll be home in just a few minutes! Yep! I had a great time tonight! Lots of dancing WHAT THE FUCK?!! OHMYGOD!"

A slight tug on my shoulder had turned into fierce pulling on my (actually Jeremy's) laptop case by a man with a slight build and striped polo shirt. Despite the fact that my laptop wasn't in the bag (I used it for carrying papers to mark and other teacher things), I wasn't letting go. While my mother listened helplessly, I screamed over and over, screwed my eyes shut, fell to the ground and wrapped my legs around the bag. He wasn't strong enough to get it away from me, but did manage to drag me on my back across the street as I shrieked.

Finally, the pulling stopped and he ran away as people came running. My phone was still in my hand (somehow) and I picked it up, babbling "I'm okay, I'm okay, Mom? I'm okay"

The couple who had scared away the mugger guided me to the sidewalk and asked me questions that I wasn't coherent enough to answer. After less than a minute, my dad came rushing around the corner. Crying and rambling, I leaned on my father as we headed back to my flat.

After a strong drink of rum and a phone call to the police, I was calm enough to tell my story. As it turned out, the couple who'd come to my rescue had also called the police, leading two Scotland Yard agents to my door within 10 minutes of our call. I wanted to curl up in a ball on my mom's lap, but held it together long enough to explain what happened and the fact that the man had run eastbound on Bayswater Road.

The nice Scotland Yard men (who didn't mind me having a drink while talking to them) expressed apologies and promised to follow up immediately, including taking my laptop bag for forensic testing. I never did figure out what they expected to find, but awkwardly emptied the bag with the policemen and my parents watching and handed it over. '

"Okay Miss, we've got everything we need for now. If you remember anything more, or have any questions, please give us a call."

Off they went into the night with my laptop bag.

Months later while packing to return to Canada, I realized not only had I never heard back from the police, but I had also lost the phone number for the Scotland Yard guys and couldn't trace my laptop bag.

Standing in front of a cash register in a shop on the Queensway, I realized how ironic it was that somebody had failed in their attempt to steal my bag, then it wound up being "stolen" by Scotland Yard.

And I wondered how I was going to explain the new carrying case to Jeremy.

I want to be their friend

2008-04-08T22:33:00.003-04:00

These people are fabulous. It's as simple as that.

I'm also totally inspired for own first dance now (although it might take some effort to convince Jeremy to dance to "Baby Got Back")...

Alphabet: My History: Blackout (B)

2008-03-26T08:20:00.007-04:00

Today, all around the world people are honouring "Earth Hour".

I plan on turning my lights off for the hour between 8pm and 9pm and encourage everybody to do the same. Yes, it's largely symbolic, however I think that given the current state of our world, a symbolic, global gesture in support of taking care of the earth is just what we need.

Unfortunately for our planet (and possibly the human race - cause apparently people like this breed), there are some small-minded jerks who have taken the time to write rude and insulting comments about this global demonstration. The ones I've added were from the Facebook group, meaning these people had to first join the group, then write their comments:

Australia saved 10% of their power consumption for one hour... Whoopty-doo. I fail to see how this benefits anyone in any shape or form. All you're doing is saving a buck or two on your own bill from going to the electricity company. I like supporting my electrical company because I think they are doing a fine job... Toronto Hydro was named one of Canada's Top 100 Employers in 2007 and its HYDRO ELECTRICITY. How is that not environmentally friendly?? Go donate to charity or something. Boycotting Hydro-electricity to save the environment... suck my ass.

hey thought i should let you guys know, i've been changing my lightbulbs so when 8 rolls around every light in my whole house will be turned on.

The planet has been through much worst shit then us (humans) (magnetic reversal of the poles, continental drifts, hundres of thousdands of years of meteorite bombardment, solar flares.... and we think a couple plastic bags......... and aluminum cans are going to make a difference...

I know I shouldn't bother with this, but it really makes me angry that people went out of their way to write this stuff. Not only is it rude, but horrifyingly ignorant. Regardless of what the planet has gone through, or whether or not global warming is a result of human activity (read up on this and decide for yourself), people ARE having an impact on the planet. Look around at the cities with little or no trees, at our polluted Great Lakes system, the smog in the air that's so bad in the summer that some people can't go outside. Look at the companies who refuse to reduce poisonous gas emissions from their plants because they don't want to spend the money. Look at the people who drop their garbage in the streets because "somebody else will pick it up".

Recently I had an issue with one of the other tenants in our building. Her boyfriend had taken the garbage out about a month ago, sitting the bag on top of the can - and leaving it there on top, with no lid, and not bothering to try and push it down inside. Since London has a zillion little critters who like to eat garbage (raccoons, feral cats, and squirrels being the most common), the bag was torn to shreds overnight, and trash spread all over the yard. I spent the next three weeks asking her to clean this mess up.

Three weeks. During which the temperatures rose, the trash started rotting even more (smelled great for a couple of days) and the snow melted, revealing even more garbage underneath. It was pretty disgusting, and I was forced to clean up part of the mess when my parents came to visit for my birthday.

Finally, I gave up on her ever doing anything and called the landlord. Feeling like a kid tattling on another kid, I explained what was happening and apologized for bugging him with something so childish. My main points were that the mess was unsanitary, looked disgusting, and leaving it out there for so long made me wonder what would happen in the summer. Thankfully, my landlord agreed with me and called her to insist that the trash be cleaned up.

I'm still floored by the fact that such measures need to be taken to get a person to clean up their own garbage.

The same day I called the landlord, there was a knock on my door. Standing there was the tenant from downstairs. She was furious that I had called the landlord and proceeded to spout out all sorts of excuses for why it had taken a month for her to even start cleaning up her garbage. "I was sick, my boyfriend was going to do it" and my favourite: "I was waiting for the snow to melt".

That last one did it.

"So you're telling me that you are planning to wait until the snow is gone before you bother cleaning this up?! That could me another two or three weeks! So until then I get to deal with racoons on my deck and looking at your rotting trash every time I go outside? That's gross and totally unfair!"

(I should explain that the area where the garbage cans are located is out of her way, but right beside my deck. So she never had to look at the trash while I saw it every time I went outside)

Her response was a very grown-up, "FINE!" accompanied by a stomp out the door, and a chorus of slamming doors and shouts and curses from the downstairs apartment.

How sad that a fully grown person can't clean up after themselves. I hate confrontation and really didn't want to involve the landlord, but it was the only way to avoid putting on rubber gloves myself and cleaning up her garbage. (I won't lie here - I had visions of doing exactly that, then dumping it down the stairs so she could look at it whenever she went out of her house. But I just couldn't be that much of a jerk.)

It's even more sad that there are people like this all over the world - who make a mess and refuse to clean it up, or tell themselves they'll do it "later". Several houses in this neighbourhood have garbage strewn across their lawns because of more people who can't be bothered to clean it up. A "few plastic bags and aluminum cans" could be collected from this street alone and fill up at least 4 big trash cans. Half of the garbage I see people piling on the curb each week could also be recycled.

But it doesn't make a difference at all...

(image taken from here)

Anyway, on to the warm fuzzy part of the post:

August 14th, 2003
It was about a half hour before Jeremy had to go to work. He was sitting in front of his computer, and I was watching a rerun of Seinfeld when the power went out. Instead of the usual flicker of lights and quick restarting of our computers, nothing happened. The TV stayed dark, and his computer sat quietly in the corner. After muttering about the annoyance of the power going out without warning, we talked for awhile and then decided to start the drive to work a bit early.

As soon as we went outside, it was clear that the power outage affected a lot more than just our house. Cars were lined up the road, barely moving. We could see that the nearest intersection (one of the busiest in the city) had no power either, and the cars were doing the 4-way stop dance: one or two going through at a time, with every direction crawling forward car-length by car-length.

"Uh oh. This is going to take a lot more time than I thought", I said to Jeremy. "But hopefully the power will be on outside of this area so you can still make it to work on time."

The radio announcer interrupted the end of a song to inform us that the power was most certainly not on anywhere nearby. As he talked about the "massive outage that covered the eastern seaboard and was affecting millions of people", we looked at each other in amazement. Expecting to be told not to bother coming into work, Jeremy called his manager and was informed that yes, the power was in fact on in their building (they have a huge generator) and he should come into work. His manager wasn't even aware of what was happening outside. The biggest blackout we'd ever heard of and the poor jerks inside the cube farm that we called our office didn't even know about it! I still imagine what it must have looked like from the air - the entire city blackened, but the lights still burning at Stream International. (Gotta make sure you can answer those tech support calls! "Your computer isn't powering up sir? Do you live on the East Coast of the USA? Yes? Well that might be the problem then...")

The drive to work took almost an hour, as people from everywhere all tried to get home at the same time. There were no traffic lights, no police directing traffic (yet) and Jeremy finally decided to get out and walk when we were halfway there. He made it to work 25 minutes before I made it home. The drive from home to work usually took 10 minutes.

When I finally parked my car in the driveway, I realized I didn't want to go inside our apartment. Something epic was happening and I wanted to be a part of it...

Grabbing some money and my keys, I wandered out into the humid August afternoon, planning to find a place open where I could buy some ice. We'd just made a run to Costco earlier that week and had $100 worth of meat in the freezer, so ice was suddenly a necessity.

It was hard to believe, but there were even more vehicles stalled on the roads, waiting to get through intersection after intersection on their way home. As I wandered up the street, I could see people stranded in gas stations waiting for the power to return so they could get gas - most of them standing in groups talking and trying to make the best out of their situations. It turned out that even the little convenience stores couldn't sell you anything unless you had exact change because the cash registers were linked to computers and wouldn't work. I was lucky enough to find a sympathetic cashier who (after chatting for awhile) agreed to sell me 4 bags of ice for $10. On the way home, I passed 8 people - all of whom offered to help me carry the heavy bags home.

Packing the contents of our freezer into the cooler we kept for camping trips didn't take long, so I grabbed a still-cold beer and a book and went outside. The air was humid, but a slight breeze kept things pleasant enough to enjoy being outdoors.

As the sun went down and the traffic slowly dwindled, the people came out. Grills were lit, warm beers passed around, car radios turned up, and a sense of solidarity grew between total strangers. The stars were out earlier than you would ever see them on a normal day, and without the orange tint to the sky, people saw constellations that ordinarily would never be visible from inside a city. The sky reminded me of sitting on the dock at the lake, where there are no lights nearby to block out all of those stars. I sat outside, wishing Jeremy had lied and said he couldn't make it to work, listening to people laugh and talk, and just enjoying the summer night.

Thinking back to that day, I can remember being amazed by three things: 1. The way the stars looked from our front yard, 2. How dependent we all are on electricity as a society, and 3. How kind people were to total strangers.

The same cashier who allowed me to buy ice (even when she was told not to sell anything) gave free chocolate bars, chips, and pop to the people stranded at her gas station. One man was from Stratford (about a 45 minute drive from London) and had been heading home after a long day on the road without stopping. He gulped down his Sprite like someone who hadn't had water in a week. Instead of looking disapproving, the cashier handed him another one with a smile. It was clear he wasn't taking advantage - he was somebody caught in the same situation we all were and just needed some extra help.

It's what I love most about that night: it reminded me that when trouble happens, most people will be there to help. That night was special: strangers smiled at each other, people stopped ignoring each other as they passed on the sidewalks and streets to exchange knowing glances and comments about the power being out, people offered free BBQ to passersby, and as the night settled in, we all looked up at the sky to appreciate the beauty that was masked by our city's lights. It really seemed like everybody wanted to share the experience with everybody else - for that one night, we were all in it together.

Update: I'm very proud to report this last little bit of news: according to the video you can find here, Canadians made up 30% of people participating in Earth Hour. Yay Canada!

Cabin Fever (aka What Happens When I get Stuck in My House for 4 Days)

2008-03-24T13:21:00.005-04:00

For the last week Jeremy and I have been laid up with a very mean flu. It started last Sunday with a headache for him, escalated into sneezing that I'm sure startled the people next door, then topped off regular intervals of coughing up bits of his lungs.

You know how when somebody else is sick, you feel sorry for them but don't really understand just how rotten they're feeling?

Thursday morning at 4am, I woke up nauseous, feverish, and feeling like somebody had poured liquid fire into my veins. Everything hurt. Cue tossing and turning for the next two hours, when I finally got out of bed and tried some tea. (which didn't work either) By Thursday evening I was no longer fit to be out of bed. Crawling under the covers with a whimper (I'm very very good at whining when I don't feel well), I resigned myself to a couple of days of feeling sick.

Unfortunately for both Jeremy and myself, this mean SOB of a cold has managed to hang on and torture us with runny noses and sore throats on top of the headaches and fever until yesterday. So much for a nice long weekend...

Being housebound for this many days has given me a lot of spare time, during which I finally started listing recently discovered blogs that I've been meaning to put on my blogroll.

Here are a few on the list:

http://burningsky1400.blogspot.com/
Matt reminds me of a young Magazine Man - eloquent and witty, with a very interesting writing style. He's a college student who uses insomnia as a writer's tool and takes pretty amazing pictures. It's worth your time to go check him out.

http://dethronedurbanprincess.blogspot.com/
Okay, this girl might be my lost twin. Not only does she love hockey AND the same team I do (Woohooo! Go AVS!), she also takes pictures of her millions of pairs of shoes, proudly quotes Friends episodes and calls herself the Urban Princess. Love it.

http://shewalks.blogspot.com/
I'm so jealous of Kristy's blog name and masthead - if I had more imagination, it's what I would have done for myself. Great writing and a fantastic sense of humour (check out a recent post (with illustrations!) on why women with big boobs and butts can't wear sundresses - definitely a girl I can relate to!)

----------

This weekend Jeremy installed Adobe Photoshop Elements (a.k.a. "Photoshop for people who will never be able to understand the REAL Photoshop") onto my computer. I've been playing nonstop with this program and have already spent several hours messing around with my pictures.

Here are a few of my pictures after editing:

I can't wait until I actually learn how to use this program!

To end this blog-post-with-no-point-at-all, one of the other nice things about staying in all weekend was re-discovering some old songs and videos on YouTube. Like this one:

To quote one of the commenters:
"how do you say de groovy
How do you say degorgeous
how do yo say dee lite"
Man the 90's rocked

racist or not?

2008-03-22T09:46:00.009-04:00

(I start this post with bleary eyes and a shaking head after reading dozens of comments to an article on CNN.com. Maybe it's because I have the flu, fell like hell and don't have anything better to do than write about this, but here we go anyway...)

I would love to know who makes the decisions for what airs on the news every night. Who decides what stories to air, who gets to discuss them, and which video clips roll on TVs across North America? Canadians are bombarded with American TV and as a result, hear a LOT of their news stories.

The latest drama in the political circus south of the border has been brewing non-stop for over a week: Senator Obama's inflammatory pastor and his speeches. YouTube now has over a MILLION hits for the videos posted of Reverend Wright - all snippets of his famous "God D.... America" rant, followed by often unintelligible and always angry comments.

Evidently all of the TV stations have been playing these videos non-stop, followed by their two cents about whether this means Obama is or isn't racist, un-American, un-trustworthy, or now un-electable. The Clintons are loving this debacle, not really saying anything publicly, but who wouldn't be thrilled to see their adversary (who is still winning) pummeled in the national media for associating with somebody like Rev. Wright. Interestingly, John McCain was more supportive than Hillary of this whole thing - removing a staffer who posted a highly biased video linking Obama, Rev. Wright, Malcolm X and others to indicate that they all hated white people and were out for Black Power alone. I grudgingly respect him a little bit now - despite the fact that he and Bush are on the same political team.

Luckily for everybody but Obama, the media firestorm over this is relentless and will ultimately cause more damage than anything the other candidates can say. I'd love to see the numbers: how many times have they played Rev. Wright's hateful words vs. Obama's responding speech on race in America? Has anybody actually played Wright's ENTIRE speech for the general public on the News? How about on their websites, displayed so the general public can see it for themselves?

The media should be ashamed of themselves. It's absolutely disgusting that this is even an issue. And even the one place where you can find the whole story - it's buried away from the front page. I'd love to know the reason for that...

On Anderson Cooper's blog, which I dearly love (not just cause he's a total babe) he posted the entire text of Rev. Wright's speech. Interestingly, the very statement that's causing Obama all of this hassle goes like this:

“The government gives them the drugs, builds bigger prisons, passes a three strike law and then wants us to sing God Bless America. Naw, naw, naw. Not God Bless America. God Damn America! That’s in the Bible. For killing innocent people. God Damn America for treating us citizens as less than human. God Damn America as long as she tries to act like she is God and she is Supreme.”

The first time I read this (and again - this is not the whole speech, you can find that here and the other one here) I was pretty disturbed that this preacher felt so strongly that his government and country had let he and his people down until I really read the words - without thinking about who said them. When you reread the last sentence - it's a very harsh repetition of something I and MANY other people I know have said before: The problem many people have with the USA is the attitude that they're better than everybody else. Who says they get to tell us what to do? Since when are they the boss of the world?

Yes, it's inflammatory. Yes, it's mean. But I didn't see anything racist. Maybe in some of his other speeches (which I have not read in their entirety, so cannot comment accurately on), but not this one. Is he being un-American? That's for each person to decide. But keep in mind that the context of this man's life may explain much of his anger - he has direct ties to people who were slaves. You try to imagine for a moment about actually being a slave and maybe you won't be so quick to judge his anger. This isn't from the 1800s - it's from the 40s. Not that long ago at all... I'm not excusing his words but don't think I'm in any place to judge another person for saying something based on their own life experiences - especially something that painful. Slavery might be a distant memory for some people, but there are people still living in North America today who were slaves or the children of slaves. Not such a distant past, and even though it's over now, I think it's disrespectful to try and tell them that it doesn't matter anymore. We don't need to dwell on it over and over, but we do need to understand that it's still a painful memory for many people.

Take this whole thing another step further to Senator Obama, who is now being attacked by thousands of angry (and from what I've read in the comments: white) people for being un-American and racist. He will be forever linked to this speech made by another person - words he denounced publicly while still embracing the man. I don't think you could be much more Christian than that: saying you might not agree with everything another person does, but you can still love the person. Or at the very least, not judge and disown them for things they do wrong.

All of those angry people who go to Church this Easter weekend, I wonder will they remember: To err is human, to forgive divine?

Obama forgave his pastor. And now thousands judge him for not publicly denouncing him. While I find Rev. Wright's words disturbing and occasionally hurtful, I can't help but feel sorry for a person who is now going to be forever stamped as a hateful, un-American racist. By people who don't know him, have never met him, and have probably only seen a 30-second clip of the climax of one of his sermons on YouTube. The worst part is that the number of people who've taken the time to watch the angry clips of Rev. Wright was almost double those who've watched Obama's answering speech.

People are claiming that Senator Obama focuses only on the situation of black people - that he is racist towards whites. I guess it speaks more about that state of race relations than anything Obama or Wright could have said or written: people all over America are judging him as a black man when he is in fact half black and half white. His dad is African and his mother a white woman from Kansas. If he was racist towards either group it would be equivalent to saying he hates half of his family. The obvious problem to me is that all of these allegedly God-fearing, non-racist people are judging him in the first place - who cares if he's black or not? The fact that this is even a discussion shows how prevalent racism still in in the USA. They say he shouldn't play the race card in his campaign, but I strongly disagree: who better to unite everybody than a person with the blood of both blacks and whites running through his veins?

He made a comment on the radio the other day that's also been repeated ad nauseum by angry Americans - something about "typical white people" having uncomfortable feelings about people from other races. Cue more self-righteous people saying they have never even considered skin colour and claiming they never look at people from different races any differently than they do white people.

That indignant, politically-correct BS (and yes, it IS exactly that) is partly why modern society still has so many race issues. People are too scared to admit that they have eyes to see our physical differences, and that yes, sometimes people who look, speak, or act differently can make us uncomfortable. This does NOT mean they are racist.

I personally have watched an Asian woman change directions on the street to avoid a group of white people - looking nervously at them as she did. A friend of mine admitted to being nervous on the way to the bar one night when we passed a group of eight or nine big black men. Was it their skin colour or their size? If it was their colour, should I have told her off for being racist? Am I racist for being a little nervous too?

When I was living in England, I taught at an inner-city primary school where white people were a minority. One day I was riding the bus home, and upon finishing the newspaper, looked around for a moment at the other passengers. Suddenly I realized I was the only white person on the entire bus: everybody else was black, brown, etc. and speaking all sorts of different languages. While it certainly wasn't scary, I did feel a bit out of place and like I was sticking out as different. None of the people on the bus stared or treated me as any different than the next passenger, but I was suddenly aware of how different I looked. Does it make me a racist that I noticed the colour of my own skin as different from theirs or that I wondered if they noticed me?

Why do we need to say we don't see colour? Or notice different accents or culture? To me, that's what makes us so unique. My students last year represented 14 different countries, and a mix of religion and culture so diverse that it made my white, Catholic-bred childhood seem boring. There were a few times that skin colour came up, but it was usually just the kids comparing how dark their skin was with each other. Once, one of the 4 white children in my class said that the black kids were leaving him out because he wasn't black too - but it turned out that he'd kicked one of them during a soccer match and shouted at another kid before they told him to go away. We had a long talk about colour and race after that, and I was amazed at how little the children actually cared about their own skin colour, despite the fact that they ALL were certain of who was the darkest and who was the lightest in colour. They pointed out their differences without difficulty: T has slanty eyes and is little, A is big and light brown, R is skinny and very white, Z has "funny" (they didn't know the world for olive-coloured) skin and a big smile. They listed their physical attributes without qualm. Because they weren't afraid of hurting each other's feelings - it was just their looks after all. These little kids sure could teach the world something about race: yep, we all look different. We can SEE our differences. We believe in different things, celebrate different faiths, speak different languages, and eat different foods. But I'll be your friend because you smiled at me in the lunch line or asked if I wanted to play football at recess.

One of my best friends in the world is a black woman - born in Ethiopia and one of the most beautiful people I know. She's told me many stories of being called the N-word and other horrible things done just on account of her dark skin. This isn't in the 40s or the 60s - this was the NINETIES. Here in Canada, in our modern times, small-minded assholes made her feel like garbage because she looked different from them. I cried when she told me some of her stories.

Yet, she is in love with a white man, with whom she has a son, has many friends of many colours, and is certainly one of the most accepting people I know. Her little son, now 2 and a half years old, has beautiful brown eyes and cocoa skin - mulatto, I believe they call it. People will look at him though, and see a black person. Just like they see Obama as one.

The reality is both of these people carry the blood of blacks, whites, and people from other nations inside them. Just like almost everybody else who lives in North America. So maybe it's time to look past the skin colour to see the person instead.

Shouldn't it be what we stand for that counts?

Alphabet: My History: Aziz (A)

2008-03-19T15:55:00.004-04:00

My friend Eve asked me if I wanted to come with her to visit her friend, Aziz. She'd mentioned him so many times I already felt like I knew him, so I said yes. We rode two buses to get to his place: a tiny house in Kensal Rise. It was only a block away from where the tornado had struck just a couple of weeks prior - that made national headlines and led to several phone calls from Canada asking if we were okay.

We sat on the top of the bus because the bottom was mostly full. I liked riding at the top anyway, because you could see so much more - it was like getting a free sightseeing tour without looking like a tourist. As we passed the block that had been damaged, I noticed red lights blinking and blockades at the top of the street. Just past them, you could see debris on the road, and people still working on the clean-up.

On the short walk between the bus stop and his house, we passed a few run-down shops and an off-license (that became our stopping place for a bottle of wine or two). One of these was a flower and plant store who's owner somehow trusted people enough to leave large planters full of greenery and blooms outside even when he closed up for the night. An old black lab sat outside the stores, tied to a bench and wagging his tail as we passed by. The neighbourhood was quiet and had the beginnings of that air of neglect that you see in some downtown or urban places: overgrown lawns, unkept gardens, a few broken down bikes and cars in sagging driveways. I think of the neighbourhood I grew up in and how far away it is from there and feel light years away from home. Aziz's house was on a cozy side street where the houses basically sat shoulder to shoulder - no spaces in between, with tiny driveways and front yards.

He greeted us with a smile, hugs for Eve, and a kiss on each cheek for me. I immediately liked him: big, friendly smile, and a house that felt so comfortable it was hard to believe I'd never been there before. His house was full of warmth and colour, delicious scents of Moroccan tobacco and stews, opening up to a huge back yard lined with pretty trees and shrubs.

Aziz used to have cancer. Now he's got a hole in his throat, and has learned to speak through it. He used to be a musician, but can't perform anymore. He smiled and was sweet and friendly, but you could see the despair in his eyes when he listened to music. Somebody painted a picture of him playing his flute with the sun beaming behind him. It's hanging on the living room wall near pictures of his little girl smiling and growing up. He was born in Casablanca, which I always thought was very exotic.

I loved visiting him. Eve and I (and sometimes Jeremy) would take the bus to his little house for incredible dinners and listen to music and talk while he smoked his pipe (even after the cancer, he couldn't quit completely). His best friend was a professional chef who would cook huge dinners that you could smell all the way down the street in the summer and were plated like they came out of a restaurant.

Sometimes when we'd visit, he would eat very little, sticking to sips of wine while we went for seconds. I think he was a bit self-conscious about the hole in his throat sometimes, which is sad because we never noticed it at all. We were too busy enjoying his company...

After one visit, Eve mentioned that he didn't look well - his colour wasn't good and he didn't seem his usual jovial self. Even when he said goodbye; grasping our hands and kissing our cheeks with a smile - something seemed just... off. Then as quickly as the trouble appeared, he bounced back and was the picture of health during the next visit. Still, the ghost of his cancer always hovered in the background to remind us of how quickly the world had come to losing him.

The last time I saw him, he was getting ready for a month-long visit to his home country and I was only a few weeks away from moving back to Canada. I knew I probably wouldn't ever see him again, so I watched him a lot during our visit, hoping to remember the happiness coming off of him in waves as he told stories about his home.

I'll never hear an African flute again without thinking of Aziz.

My "Idiot's Guide to American Politics"

2008-03-10T19:11:00.007-04:00

I can't help myself - I just have to write about this again.

As a Canadian, I can't believe how fascinated I've become with the American election system, particularly the Democratic circus that's happening right now.

I never understood how their system worked, but now have a basic grasp of what happens:

1. People vote in caucuses or primaries to elect the person they want to run for president. There are several parties in the USA, but the major players right now are the Republicans and the Democrats.

2. Each state has a number of delegates that a candidate must win in order to become their party's nominee to run for President. If the race is too close, then a group of people called Super Delegates get to choose who they want to represent their party in November.

3. The states must vote only in a pre-determined order. Any states breaking that rule are penalized. Right now Michigan and Florida are both being penalized for allowing people to vote early and are not allowed any delegates right now to represent them. So basically those people's votes don't count.

I've already said that I hope to see Barack Obama win the election. He's mobilized the youth of their country in a way that I've never seen or experienced. I don't want to make a generalization, but most of the people in my age group (based on those I know) are not interested in politics and will vote half-heartedly based on their parent's affiliation. There are some who feel strongly about one politician or another, but I've never seen such widespread fervor over a politician before Mr. Obama.

In an article by Newsweek (found on MSNBC.com), it was revealed that Hillary Clinton thinks Obama would be a great Vice President. This after saying he's not ready to be President yet. As he is currently leading her in delegates, I can't believe she would be so arrogant as to suggest that the person beating her (for now - who knows what's going to happen) would be her second-in-command. It's a brilliant trick though - "vote for me and you'll get BOTH of us!! We'll unite the whole country! But remember - I'm better than he is, so don't vote for him!"

Even more shocking to me is what's happening with the Florida / Michigan fiasco. Back when it looked like she'd be ahead, Hillary didn't utter one word about those states. Nothing about all of those people who's votes wouldn't count. Then she found herself losing contest after contest and is now openly supporting the idea that those votes DO count. Guess who won those states?

Interestingly, Obama's name wasn't even on the ticket for Michigan - so people could vote for Hillary or "undecided" for him. Florida apparently supports Hillary very strongly - which makes sense as it's full of her key demographic: boomers, elderly, white people and Latinos. What I really find fascinating is that people are reporting that that group, along with blue collar workers support Hillary, while Obama's group are highly educated" people and the majority of the youth.

So even though he's winning right now (by a small margin at this point), if they overturn their own party's rules and count those votes, then Hillary will win.

Some are pushing for a re-vote, but many say it isn't fair. I don't understand how this is even POSSIBLE at this point. Honestly? How does this make any sense?? How can a country first deny people's votes based on the day they were cast, and then change their minds a couple of months later? Do they let the candidates re-campaign in those states? What do the people who live there think about this? I'd be super-pissed if I took the time to vote and somebody said it wouldn't count because politicians I don't know angered their national committee. Add the fact that you couldn't even vote for Obama in Michigan - and Clinton's people are saying it didn't matter because if you didn't want her, you could say "undecided" or "other" or something - which I guess they believe is equivalent to voting for him.

Even more dodgy is the fact that the "Clinton machine" seems to be very much involved in this mess, making me question the reasons behind it. Does she want true democracy and every vote to count or does she just want to win and is willing to change her own party's rules to get there? Also, if Obama had won those states, would she even be talking about this at all?

They had a great thing going: two highly electable and appealing candidates who both appeared to be just what the USA needs to help fix the damage that's been done by Bush. Then one of them started calling the other's qualifications and skills into question, started subtly tearing down her opponent, who then retaliated with similar actions. Now it's back to negative vs. negative in politics again. Totally disgusting. If I could say just one thing to both of them, it would be that this negative bullshit is a TURN OFF for most people. Attacking another person to build yourself up is not the kind of behaviour I'd like to see in a leader. In addition, Hillary's negative comments are dividing her party, and make it seem like she's only trying to find a way to advance herself at any cost. They should just run their campaigns, be civil, have their debates about their differing policies, etc. and the let people decide who's best. Every little thing they say against each other right now is free ammunition for their Republican opponent. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot...

I'm also fascinated by the fact that most Americans are against the war in Iraq, and even though John McCain (the Republican candidate for President) supports the war, even claiming he saw another 100 years war (sorry, no source for this, but I think it's possible to find online) happening over there - people are still voting for him? Is this due to the fact that they are Republicans and hate the other party so much that they go against their own beliefs and vote their party even when it's the wrong person? This makes no sense at all to me.

Why can't people have a couple of days - even a week - to vote for their Presidential nominee, figure out who wins, then have the election for President? Why the red tape, the money, the hassle, the headaches, the name-calling and back-door dirty politics that we'll never hear about? Why do certain states get to vote on certain days, which most definitely would affect the rest of the country's voting.

Think about it: you're undecided. Or maybe even leaning mildly towards one candidate. Then you hear about Clinton winning in Texas or Ohio or New Hampshire or wherever. Maybe that swings you vote in her direction, just based on the popular vote. Same goes in the other direction: Obama went on quite the winning streak and some are saying people just jumped on the bandwagon. If the average person doesn't take the time to learn about both sides - then they're either voting with the popular choice or on a biased opinion. If you do just one big election, then maybe it would be less about the media and more about which candidate is actually better.

I'd absolutely love to see what would happen if they asked every American right now who they'd choose as their leader: McCain, Clinton, or Obama. Regardless of their party affiliation. Just who's the better choice. I wonder who they'd choose?

Personally I would choose the candidate who can inspire something like this:

*** Please know that anything I've written here is a result of observations made over the past couple of months. I certainly don't claim to know better than those who created the American electoral system - just that I don't understand why it is the way it is. It's confusing and I don't understand why the voting can't be more simple.
I hope in the end that everything works out for them because they deserve the change that Obama speaks about (even if it comes from somebody else). ***

Rockin' Girl Blogger

2008-03-09T19:39:00.004-04:00

I've been reading her blog for a very long time.

Crystal, from Boobs, Injuries, & Dr. Pepper, has a writing style that makes you think she's talking (or writing I guess) directly to you. I've had to clean up several drinks that were spit out or knocked over due to excessive laughter as a direct result of just how funny she is. Jeremy's heard "Hey Honey! Listen to this!!" amidst belly laughter and giggles so many times that he now recognizes her writing without having ever visited her website.

I love her parenting style and hope that when I have kids I'm half as good at being a mom as she is - from her stories they seem quick-witted, creative, and intelligent people. You don't grow up to be a person like that by accident...

Underneath this hilarity and wit though, lies a much different undertone. Her story is not my story to tell, but I will say that she's been through WAY worse shit that anybody I know ever has.

Instead of hiding from it though, she shares it all with the world. Honest, open words, often self-deprecating, but always real.

I admire her not just for her amazing blogging ability, but also for her incredible bravery in sharing things that most people lock up and never, ever discuss.

Visit her blog and you'll find out why I'm passing the "Rockin' Girl Blogger Award" to her.

Nick the Great

2008-03-07T06:59:00.006-05:00

In a world full of obnoxious teenagers who think they know it all, there's a guy named Nick.

What's special about him? The easy answer would be "everything", but since I'm wordier than that, I'll explain a little bit more...

He actually spends time with this family! Without rolling his eyes at every word or using That Tone (that I fully admit to using when speaking to my parents). Even more amazing he actually seems to LIKE HIS PARENTS. AND HIS FAMILY!!! (Since his parents (and family) are pretty fantastic people, it's easy to understand why - but that's not really the point here)

Nick's one of those guys who's good at pretty much everything - hockey and golf in particular. (Although he definitely has questionable tastes in NHL teams...)

He's also a skilled teeny-plastic-stir-stick swordsman, collecting several trophies and coming in second in the World Championship Teeny-Plastic-Stir-Stick Dueling Competition.

He's not perfect though. Our poor Nick, my soon-to-be cousin (although Jeremy's cousins feel much more like brother and sister) has trouble keeping his holidays straight.

But overall, he's a pretty great person, so we can forgive him for Halloween masks at Christmas time (and for cheering for the Toronto Maple Leafs)...

Nick,

The first time I met you, I thought you seemed so much more grown-up than most kids your age. You were kind to your little sister, friendly with your parents, aunt, uncle, and grandparents, and seemed like a kid with a good head on your shoulders. Everybody said you were just like Jeremy was at your age.

Your ability to stick a spoon to your nose and hold it there whilst acting completely normal at the dinner table pretty much proved that you were as great as everybody says.

I can't wait until the day I can officially call you and your sister my cousins (although I've been telling people you are for several years now). I just wanted to add my name to the list of people who are so proud of you - not just for your accomplishments in hockey and golf, but also of the young man you've become.

Those of you who regularly read my blog have probably guessed that today is Nick's birthday: one year older, one year wiser, and one year more of people being lucky enough to know him.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICK!!!

Lots of love,
Melinda (and Jeremy too)

Roadhouse Blues

2008-03-02T21:36:00.004-05:00

Today Jeff Healey died.

For those of you who've never heard of him (I have no idea what his popularity was like outside of Canada), Jeff Healey was a Canadian musician who lost his eyesight as a baby due to cancer in his eyes. He taught himself how to play the guitar, clearly influenced by greats like BB King, Clapton, and Hendrix, and was an incredible performer who played with his guitar on his lap.

Much like Stevie Wonder's famous head movements while he sings, Jeff Healey's strange way of holding his guitar became a signature for his fans.

It's sad that he didn't become more famous - he deserved it. Here's a video of him performing "Roadhouse Blues", a classic and one of my all-time favourites:

He should have had many more years (he was 41 years old with a wife and children), but he left behind some incredible music - which I know will live on.

Rest in peace, Jeff. I hope you and Hendrix are jamming together already...

"Miss 10"

2008-02-24T21:21:00.002-05:00

I have a great boss.

I know we're supposed to say things like that in public - and since this is a public blog where I've made no attempt to disguise my identity, I pretty much have to say that.

But having to say it doesn't make the fact that she's fabulous any less true.

Every Friday afternoon, we have a staff meeting, exchange kits for the week and get any materials we need for our science clubs and workshops. It's crowded and chaotic, as people run around checking lists and telling stories about their week.

I walked into the office carrying a pile of science stuff, dropped it on a table, and turned to say hi to my boss.

"Hey Mel! Oh boy do you ever owe me a big!" She said this with a strange smile, almost looking grim.

"Um. What did I do?!"

"Don't worry about it right now - just get the rest of your stuff. Then we'll talk."

Twenty minutes later, I was chatting with my co-workers when my boss came back into the room, saying "Okay Mel, close your eyes".

Not knowing what to expect, I did as I was told.

I heard a swooshing sound, then felt something go over my head and onto my shoulders.

"Okay, open your eyes" she said, grinning at me.

She had placed a sash made out of brown paper towel over my shoulders, Miss America style, with the words "Miss 10" written across it. Baffled, I looked up at her and asked what it meant.

Looking jubilant, she said, "Well, I got a call from JB (not his real name) yesterday. After talking to Kyle about what type of information I should have prepared, I called him back this morning."

"Oh my god! What did you say?!"

"Well, I told him all about how horrible you are; unreliable, unfriendly, can't depend on you, you never pay attention to your material - you know, stuff like that".

"Please tell me you're kidding!" (which she clearly was)

This time she smiled proudly and said "He asked me to rate you on several different factors on a scale from 1 to 10. I started to laugh halfway through because I just kept repeating "10. 10. 10" She giggled and rolled her eyes.

"I told him that I wanted to say you were horrible so he wouldn't hire you! Then I told him how great you are."

Cue "Miss 10" running across the room, leaping over a box full of chemicals to hug her boss the same way people hug their friends.

Thanks to her, I was one step closer...

In which I stop wondering how Bush won the presidency

2008-02-23T20:04:00.008-05:00

Note: this post is just MY opinion. It's based on observations, conversations and some research. I apologize if anything I write offends you.

For the first time in my life, I've become fascinated with an election. Ironically, it's not even being held in Canada. But like many others I find myself paying attention to the lead-up to the American elections, primarily because of Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama.

Let me begin by saying that if I had a choice, I'd vote Obama. And I'd encourage my friends to do the same.

I have struggled with politics and especially politicians since learning about them in high school. Even to my teenage self they all seemed the same: false, self-serving people who were looking to get ahead without care or concern for the people voting them into power. Sounds harsh, but when you look at the state of North America today, seeing so many people struggling to make ends meet every week, or waiting for 8 hours to see a doctor - things are not good. And the people who've been in charge of our world and our politics for the last 30 years are largely responsible for this.

For the first time, I clicked on a link from an article about Mr. Obama to hear part of a speech he was giving in Houston. I've liked his statements and what I've read about him, and wanted to see if he appeared to be truthful while speaking about the changes he wants to bring.

43 minutes later, I couldn't believe I'd listened to his entire speech. He's gifted in front of a crowd, emphasizing certain words, and explaining himself clearly without appearing to struggle. (Far cry from Dubya's difficulty pronouncing words like "nuclear").

Again, it's ironic that I even care about this, considering I'm not an American.

To decide the reality behind politicians, I usually figure that about 1/3 of what they say is actually true. Even if that's the case with Obama, I'd STILL vote for him. I honestly believe he has something special and can help heal our neighbouring country. They need it badly. The war in Iraq has damaged the worldview of America more than people here realize. When I lived in the UK, every person I met had something horrible to say about Bush and "those idiots who voted him into power". Their words, not mine. Usually, I responded by saying that people in North America generally disagreed with the Bush administration's politics, and that hopefully the next election would bring about change for them. Every time I mentioned being a Canadian, people responded with a derogatory comment about the Americans.

That bothered me (and still does) because many people south of our border are fantastic, hard-working, and good people who certainly don't deserve what people overseas are saying about them.

I hope that when they do finally pull out of Iraq that it won't be in 100 years (as McCain said he sees happening), and that the next American president will work to help them build their country back without pushing our Western ideals on them. It's not our place to force our political (or any other) systems on people who live in a different country. Yes, I believe that we can share what we've learned with them, and encourage certain ideals - like a democracy where people can vote and have freedom of speech and religion - but there is a boundary that can be crossed all too easily, causing war and oppression instead of peace and democracy.

After the debate between Obama and Clinton on Tuesday, I read several articles that discussed how friendly they were with each other, only using random little jabs, but mainly playing nice. I thought that was strange, since both of them speak more strongly in front of their supporters.

Both campaigns have used mailers (junk mail to most of us - explaining their political platforms and bashing those of their opponents) to emphasize the differences in their policies. Apparently one of these mailers from Obama quoted a newspaper that said Hilary supported the NAFTA agreement. She got mad, newspapers jumped in with their opinions, another newspaper called Obama's statement misleading, and the whole issue got very confusing. Regardless of what is actually true, we know that she supported the free trade agreement, as did Bill Clinton (easy to verify online) - but she is now vehemently denying this fact.

Her response to this (allegedly several days after the offending mailers were sent out) has been a furious attack on her fellow Democrat, during which she first compared him to George W. Bush, then:

After the talk, she continued to take the fight to Obama while talking to reporters, displaying two of Obama's direct mail attack pieces, which she called “blatantly false” and claimed that his rhetoric doesn’t match reality.

"Let's have a real campaign,” she said, her anger palpable. “Enough with the speeches and the big rallies... Shame on you Barack Obama... Meet me in Ohio. Let's have a debate about your tactics and your behavior in this campaign.”

At a press conference later in the day, Obama said the mailers are accurate and that he's puzzled why Clinton is raising them now, since they have been around for at least several days.

"It makes me think there is something tactical about her getting so exercised this morning," Obama said in Columbus, Ohio. "Sen Clinton as part of the Clinton administration supported NAFTA. In her book, she called it one of the administration’s successes."

After reading this, I couldn't wait to get to the comments, since the political articles usually draw a strong response. These are always entertaining, with at least three or four absolute nutters adding their two cents in. This time they must have banded together because there were a LOT more than normal.

Just look at this:
Are we ready to have all blacks in the Streets if Osama..i mean Obama gets the presidency?...Imagine if O.J. was declared innocent after a DNA that said "ONE in a billion would want those people deads"...what we can expect of deads by Blacks? I had a Dream...
that was about a black never been a President of USA
as God told me in my Dream.
- Larry Allen, Miami, Florida

or this:
She's right, guys. Voting for Obama means voting for George W. Bush, Part II. Like a true leader, Hillary's taken the high road through this whole campaign. Unlike Obama, she doesn't use dry humor and sarcasm to distract voters. With Hillary Clinton, what you see is what you get. And it's lookin' pretty good to me.
- Brian Masck, Flushing, Michigan
(Just a quick note to people who don't know about American politics: Bush is a Republican and Obama is a Democrat - not sure how they could be the same when they support such different politics - but I guess everybody's entitled to their opinion)

Then a CANADIAN from my hometown of Sudbury (still can't believe this) wrote:
I question Obama's fundraising. I think Oprah Winfrey is doing something behind the scenes to funnel millions of dollars to Obama. I feel there is something fishy going on.
- Gus Cacciotti, Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

I think the phrase WTF applies here...

There are at least a half dozen comments playing on Obama's name - marking it's similarity to Osama. Pretty damn sad, and any person who is bothered by the fact that their names sound alike needs to give their head a shake.

Then, there's people like this:
Hell no I won't vote for anyone with the middle name of "Hussien".It might as well be Hitler! I am not fooled by anybody he has a silver tongue and can flash a pretty smile if necessary, and for Michele Obama she is too "street" for me. At least Mrs. Clinton has been a Christian her whole life and knows she was put on earth to serve. Nobody is perfect but I am not ready for A newcomer to be President and have Michele as first woman (as her remarks do not suggest she is much of a lady).
- Denis

Heehee, this one just makes me laugh, cause apparently somebody felt strongly enough to write in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS!
WHY IS IT THAT PEOPLE THAT RUN FOR PRESIDENCY ARE ALWAYS INMATURE? I'M A DEMO. BUT I DO NOT TRUST OSOMA OR OBAMA WAKE UP AMERICAN! HE WILL LEAD YOU IN THE WRONG DIRECTION, HE DOESN'T SAY HOW HE WILL TRY TO HELP US....THINK, WHERE DID HE REALLY COME FROM? WHAT DOES HE REALLY STAND FOR? MAYBE McCAIN IS THE ANSWER. - A JIM
(I guess I'm INMATURE for laughing at this)

I have been trying really hard to find a ridiculous one bashing Hillary - all the funny people are busy trashing Obama - other than calling she and Bill "Billary" and complaining about her own bad decisions and policies, nothing that's made me laugh yet. I'll keep looking and promise to post one as soon as I find it though - cause this is really looking one-sided (despite me already saying that I would support Barack, not Hillary).

And - to explain the blog title - it's people like this next guy who MUST be the reason that good ol' Dubya got to run their country (into the ground) for 8 years:

ALL THE WEOMAN SHOULD BE SUPPORTING HILLERY THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME TO GET A WEOMAN ELECTED PRESIDENT IN THIS COUNTRY ?
- William Caruso, Clark, NJ

Well, as a proud "weoman", I hope both the USA and Canada have many opportunities in the future to see a female name on the ballot.

I also hope that if you are an American that you read up on the facts, don't trust only 1 news source (few are unbiased), and take the time to learn about what these politicians stand for before making your vote.

And I hope that no matter who ends up in their White House will manage to finally start changing things for the better.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Update: I found a half-funny Hillary bashing one (finally):
Whoever vote for Hillary/Billary Clinton it means that pewrson is a quite naive and takes liars as a true words. The Clintons always lie.
- Jim Bagrowicz, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Tornadoes and Canadians

2008-02-09T14:28:00.000-05:00

When I was 19 years old, I became fascinated with tornadoes. There were specials on the Discovery channel and the Learning Channel that I'd watch, rapt and wide-eyed, trying to imagine the awesome power held in those storms.

My boyfriend at the time shared my love of thunderstorms and would sit outside on the porch with me to watch the lightning and rain. One night, Sudbury actually went under a tornado watch (meaning a possibility of tornadoes). The clouds were pitch-dark, and it was just after dinner, so we were pretty excited (and yes, call us dumbasses, but northern Ontario doesn't get this kind of thing very often, so it was exciting to us) and decided to go out to the street with raincoats to see what we could see. It's funny that we were so happy to get outdoors, honestly believing that we might see something when if we'd been thinking about it, his parents would never have let us outside if there had been a real chance of a tornado.

Off we went into the rainy, staring up at the sky like little kids.

This was 10 years ago, but I remember the conversation pretty much went like this:

"Hey! Is that a funnel cloud?!"

"no. Just wispy clouds"

"Oh."

"Oh but look! THAT one looks AMAZING!"

"Is it a funnel cloud?"

"Nah. Just looks cool."

"HOLY SHIT! LOOKATTHAT!"

"Wow!"

(crazy lightning)

Then, the loudest clap of thunder EVER: KABOOM!

Cue two dumbasses in raincoats flying indoors at warp speed, only to stop short at the door and nonchalantly step inside with cool "we weren't afraid" greeting to his family.

We kept to the windows after that.

When Jeremy and I were living in Windsor, I was surprised to learn that we were living in Ontario's version of Tornado Alley. The schools all had procedures in place for tornado warnings, and the kids knew what to do if one showed up.

We had several tornado watches, a couple of warnings, saw a few funnel clouds, and enjoyed several incredible thunderstorms during that year. Since the balcony faced the south-west, we got a great view of any weather coming in. Michigan had several tornado warnings that summer, many of which were close enough to the border that we thought something might actually happen here too.

As much as I've always wanted to see one, I know it's lucky that I've never had to. Still, I find the combination of awesome beauty and power endlessly fascinating even though we've all been reminded again of how much destruction they can bring.

Since they've been hitting the news a lot lately, I went to YouTube to see what kind of videos were posted of the recent tornadoes that hit the southern parts of the States. After several jaw-dropping ones, I found this:

I love being Canadian. Gotta love a couple of guys calmly taking a video of a giant tornado, while at the same time giving updates on it's movement to their friends, then offering to take pictures of a total stranger standing in front of it after a few minutes of friendly conversation, before introducing themselves and saying "have a good one".

They even tossed in an "Eh".

I doubt I'd ever be that cool if I saw one...

Grasshopper

2008-02-08T08:32:00.000-05:00

This morning, I got news that somebody I used to know very well died over a month ago. We used to work together - way back when I first moved to London 5 years ago. He was a supervisor at Stream, and a kind-hearted person who I'm sure recognized a scared kid when he saw one. It didn't take long for him to become a confidant.

"Listen grasshopper", he used to joke, before giving me advice on anything from my phone stats to my relationships.

We pranked my friend Mooney several times, and joked around constantly. It's because of that time in my life that I identify with show The Office so strongly - the friendships and drama that you find whenever a group of people work together. There was a lot of that happening, but he was like the big brother / father figure to me and I got through a lot of hard times because of him.

He always stood behind me, and whenever HP praised us, he was the first one to give his congratulations. I think he got a kick out of how much they liked me - he used to joke that I was really the person running things, while he just made sure we got paid. In some ways that was true, but he really did make us a team. Our little group of 12.

The last time I saw Mike, he was heading down the green hallway at work on his way out of the building for the last time. I cried a little, because I knew work just wouldn't be the same anymore.

I've wondered about him over the past few years - thinking idly that it would be great to meet up for a coffee and an update on our lives. I imagined telling him that Jeremy and I are getting married, and watching his surprise (we'd only been together a little while when he left), talking about England, and how I'm now fighting to find a teaching job here. I'd hear about "his wife" (not actually married, but he always called her that - and after a couple of decades, it kinda made sense) and the things he'd been up to.

And we would have laughed a lot.

I always thought that I'd see him again...

Rest in peace, Mike. I hope you died with no regrets, and left a happy life behind.

We'll miss you.

If I was Google, I'd sue these jerks

2008-02-06T18:41:00.000-05:00

wooohoooo. Apparently I'm rich:

From:	"GOOGLE LOTTERY INTERNATIONAL" Add Mobile Alert
To:
Subject:	IMMEDIATE CONTRACT PAYMENT CONTRACT NO:



CONTRACT #: MAV/NNPC/FGN/MIN/009,
Swift Code: BPH KPL PK,
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FOREIGN REMITTANCE DEPARTMENT
CENTRAL BANK NIGERIA
Our Ref: CBN/IRD/CBX/021/04
Attn Honorable Contractor,
IMMEDIATE CONTRACT PAYMENT CONTRACT NO:
MAV/NNPC/FGN/MIN/009
During the auditing and closing of all financial
records of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) it was
discovered from the records of outstanding Foreign
contractors due for payment with the Federal Government
of Nigeria in the year 2006 that your name and company
is next on the list of Those who will receive their
fund.
I wish to officially notify you that your payment is
being processed and will be released to you as soon as
you respond to this letter.
Also Note that from the record in our file, your outstanding
contract payment is USD$10 Million (10 Million,United States
Dollars). Kindly re-confirm to me if this is inline with
what you have in your record and also re-confirm to me the
information below to enable this office Proceed and finalize
your fund remittance without further delays.
1) Your full name.
2) Phone, fax and mobile
3) Company name, position and address.
4) Profession, age and marital status.
5) Copy of Drivers License I .D.

As soon as the above information are received,
your payment will be made available to you via an
international certified bank draft,which will be
delivered to your doorstep for your confirmation. 
You should call my direct number as soon as you
receive this letter for further discussion and more
clarification.
Best regards,
Proff Soludo
Executive DIRECTOR
Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN)
email.soludo1054@gmail.com

Wow. 10 million bucks. Wonder if they want copies of my passport and birth certificate too?

I was going to call them to collect the money, but oops! They forgot to include a number!

(Either way, how very nice of the Central Bank of Nigeria to offer to send so much money through this lottery.)

Ooh gotta go! I just found out how to increase my penis by 6 INCHES! And when I'm done with THAT, I can be one of the lucky few to donate money to a little boy in Nigeria (hmm again?) with an extra arm and no legs just by forwarding the email to all of my friends!

In other interesting news, I'd like to announce that The Weath er Network doesn't know it's arse from it's elbow.

That's right. I said it.

We've had the craziest weather I can ever remember during the past few weeks, we've seen heavy snowfall, accumulations of up to 25cm, then watch it all melt the next day. There's been hail, tons of rain, fog, "ice chips" (thanks for that one Weather Network), and then sunshine. The temperatures have dropped to as cold as -27, and risen to +10.

Today, I was sure school buses would be canceled due to the freezing rain that had fallen overnight. Luckily they weren't, and I got to teach three workshops, then spend a couple of hours helping out at the office before the next storm hit us. My boss drives a minivan, and had it parked on the far side of our lot, where each space angles slightly upward as the ground turn into a hill. At around 2:00pm, she realized that her van wasn't where she'd parked it. It had traveled half a foot down the little hill and was almost on the road.

The freezing rain that fell for several hours is now snow. Appar ently this major storm has come in from the USA (funny how the cold weather is always blamed on US) and will now dump a mix of freezing rain and snow from 15-25m. I really wish Mother Nature would give up the crack.

Since I teach two more workshops in the morning, I checked the weathernetwork.com to see what was happening.

First, I saw this (click on the pics to enlarge):

Then after clicking on the link, read about this storm:

Then I scrolled down to the long range to see if we were going to keep the snow for more than the 3 or 4 days it's been lasting (due to temperatures that rise and fall like a damn yo-yo) and saw this:

How can you POSSIBLY SAY "we expect up to 1cm of snow" when there's a flipping blizzard on it's way???

Apparently somebody at The Weather Network is playing a mean trick on somebody else.

Black February

2008-02-04T20:17:00.000-05:00

I'm so tempted to start this with "it was a dark and stormy night". As I sit in front of my computer, cold drink at my side, I can hear the rain hammering through the snow in our yard and bouncing on the bare spots of pavement in the driveway. The air is becoming thick with fog. Having recently discovered that today is the grisly anniversary of the murder of the "Black Donnellys", the weather seems especially eerie...

Every Monday, I teach at a school in Biddulph Township, then make my way to another school in St. Marys, a gorgeous little town that reminds me a lot of Stratford. With an hour to waste between science clubs, I found myself wandering through the streets, poking in and out of the little shops unique to the hilly little town. Eventually, I discovered a camera shop, and spent several minutes chatting with the lady behind the counter in the way that small town people do. It's funny that even after living away from Capreol all of these years, I still get recognized for the small town girl that I am.

When the phone rang, I turned to the bookshelf nearby and noticed a red book titled "Revenge of the Black Donnellys". Since this is a particularly fascinating part of local history, I picked it up immediately. The story told of a curse laid upon those who murdered members of the infamous family 128 years ago tonight.

Reality interrupted, and I went on with the rest of my day, teaching class, a quick trip to the grocery store, then home for dinner and a relaxing evening of online TV watching and laundry.

Then I remembered the date.

Interested, I visited several of the websites sharing information about the massacre that happened over a century ago, and become incensed with the idea of traveling up highway 4 again, to where a church stands on the Roman Line, and up the road to where it all happened. I knew exactly where to find the place where the most violent murders in Canadian history occurred because I drive past it every week.

My imagination ran wild...

Impatiently wiping the rain off the windshield, I drove through the night with a grumbling Jeremy in the passenger seat. As annoyed as he was about being forced back out into the damp winter night, even he couldn't resist the adventure we were taking.

"Imagine! All of that craziness happened exactly tonight!" I grinned at him, already feeling the shivers of fear and anticipation warring in my belly.

"Uh huh. Thrilling." He growled at me, fumbling with the camera in his lap. "I really don't get why you just HAD to do this tonight. The weather's horrible. AND we're not going to see anything."

As the church loomed out of the darkness, I whispered, "St. Patrick's. It's theirs."

"You are SUCH a nerd."

Sticking my tongue out at my skeptical fiance, I made the right turn onto the road. Not feeling so much excited as nervous - I really wasn't sure what to expect.

We parked the car and wandered up to the church and graveyard, me trying to take pictures through the rain, but not really getting anything worth keeping. Remembering that other people found ghostly shapes in their pictures of this place, I kept them all to look at later.

After about 10 minutes, Jeremy had had enough, and my shoes were soaked right through.

"Okay, let's drive up the road to where they used to live. We've come this far, and I bet it'll be worth it just to see this place!" The adventure was getting to me again.

As we headed up the dark road, the rain stopped, leaving a slight mist that hung in the air ("along with their ghosts", I thought to myself), making driving more difficult. Gripping the wheel with both hands, I hummed along with the radio, thinking that hip hop music didn't exactly fit the mood, but a little too freaked out to turn it off completely. It reminded me of being alone in the house as a child, depending on the TV for company.

Having never been to the place we were going, I drove slowly, keeping an eye out for buildings and houses as we rumbled down the road. I thought again of what I'd read earlier that evening:

The little kitchen exploded into chaos, and death surrounded the Donnellys on every side. Carroll had let out some kind of signal, and the door burst open with a gang of men who entered with murder on their blood-thirsty minds. Armed with clubs, sticks, and other farm implements, they surrounded the startled family, and began beating them to death. They cared not for the sex or the age of their victims, but only that their name was 'DONNELLY', and on that night, February 4th, 1880, the Donnellys had to die.
(http://www.donnellys.com/History2.html)

Suddenly the rain came back, slamming onto the windows and roof of the car so loud that the radio was drowned out. Glancing at Jeremy, I slowed down to a crawl and looked out the window into the darkness.

"I guess we can't get out of the car, huh."

"HELL no!"

Feeling relieved, and a little silly, I slowed down even more, and prepared to turn around, no longer interested in seeing what lay behind the rain when a sharp green light appeared within the layer of clouds.

"Um. What the HELL is that?!"

The rain kept pouring, stopping Jeremy from being able to get a decent picture, so he rolled down the window to try and capture what we were seeing. As he rolled down the window another car came flying up the road, the driver's face frozen in a mask of panic.

"You know what? We can just watch the movie."

As we turned around, I swear I heard the sound of screaming.

Slamming the car into gear, I pushed down on the gas as much as I dared, praying that we'd be able to get away. Finally back on Highway 4, I breathed a sigh of relief. We'd seen a couple of figures moving through the graveyard; probably living people, but we didn't stick around to find out.

I couldn't wait for home and daylight.

The rain stopped again as we traveled away from the darkened landmark, replaced by a thick fog that felt like it was trying to smother everything underneath it. We passed a car on fire on the way home, then another that had rolled into a ditch. Nobody was was around - not even the drivers. I was surprised to make it home without incident.

Not sure I'll ever look at those pictures...

-----------------

Think this sounds way out? Well, it was fun to write, hopefully you enjoyed reading it.

Check out some of the Black Donnelly websites for some gory but fascinating Canadian history and let your own imaginations run wild. (And yes, they have pictures)

The Good Life

2008-02-03T11:19:00.000-05:00

Brainhell's good friend created a blog, BHAtRest, where people could share their stories about him and talk about how he changed their lives.

I'm going to be 29 years old soon - even though turning 30 seems like I'm getting OLD, I know that I'm still a pretty young person who should have several more decades before it's my time to go.

He should have had more time too, but ALS stole those years. But instead of facing an early death with bitterness or angry words, he quoted Captain Kirk, saying "it was fun".

Those three words sum it up, don't they? Maybe that's the secret to life: knowing that at the end of your own, you'll be thinking of good memories and the people you love - not the bumps and bruises taken along the way. If you live a good life (as best you know how) then the end can be faced without regret and people will celebrate who you were and what you stood for.

A very good friend of mine
Told me something the other day
I'd like to pass it on to you,
Cause I believe what he said to be true
He said:
We're here for a good time
Not a long time
So have a good time
The sun can't shine everyday
And the sun is shinin,
In this rainy city,
And the sun is shinin,
Ooh isn't a pity?
That every year has it's share of tears,
Every now and then it's gotta rain

We're here for a good time
Not a long time
So have a good time
The sun can't shine everyday

Goodbye

2008-02-03T11:06:00.000-05:00

I don't know his real name. He called himself Brainhell, a name that always made me uncomfortable because it so aptly described what he was going through. Despite everything, he left a pretty amazing final message - one that I hope to never forget. It was a privilege to get to know this man through his blog, and I encourage you to take the time to read it.

You'll find his blog here.

Rest in peace, BH. You will not be forgotten.

If I saw you in heaven

2008-01-30T22:02:00.000-05:00

There's a blogger I know who's dying.

I've been reading his blog for almost two years now, mainly without comment, but visiting fairly regularly. He was diagnosed with ALS 4 years ago, a problem with started with tingles and numbness in his limbs, then moving on to weakness and loss of muscle control. He's been a much more faithful blogger than I, and has maintained his site even when it was difficult to hold up his head.

He's shared much of this horrifying journey with his readers, including posts that are mostly illegible (I can only guess as a result of pain or inability to control his hands). At first, I felt like I was intruding on a private conversation - having clicked on the link to his blog from that of another favourite of mine, and read a comments section from a clearly dedicated group of readers. He kept an inventory of his growing health problems, included a video (titled "So You're Going to Die!") through which I learned the facts about this 100% fatal disease.

He is a young man by today's standards - and a husband and father whose love for his family is always evident. It's not fair that he is trapped inside a failing body while his mind remains intact. ALS is the worst nightmare I can imagine: a healthy mind and a dying body. Eventually you're trapped. Even after living a long life this would be a terrible way to die.

His last post (and I'm sure it will remain such) was simply saying "I love you" to his wife and children. That was last week, and the comments section has grown from it's usual dozen or so, to over 130 messages. I check every day, waiting to read the inevitable.

When I read his last post, I started to cry. Unfortunately Jeremy was just coming into the living room and obviously concerned, asked what was wrong. When I tried to explain, I realized that to a non-blogger this type of emotional outpouring for a stranger is utterly mystifying. While he understands that we bloggers do form communities and feel strong affinities with certain others (particularly during hard times), it seemed a little strange that I was so upset.

The thing is, I was privy to this man's thoughts. He made them public. And the last thing he wanted the world to know was that he loves his family.

How can you not cry at that?

He doesn't know my name - the comment I left for him, saying thank you and sending love and prayers might be read aloud with all of the others at his bedside (as a friend of his has promised to do), but I am one of many. This is totally fine with me - we're not friends, and never will be.

But his words touched me and I will remember his story.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
- Mary Frye

So much for a "reality check"

2008-01-27T00:19:00.000-05:00

I'm SO disappointed right now.

After a month of watching TLC's "Miss America: Reality Check", a show that is meant to update this almost 90-year old pageant so it actually reflects real American women, I watched this girl win the title:

If you're thinking "But she looks exactly like a Miss America - what's new about this?" then you probably understand why I'm so annoyed.

Don't get me wrong - Miss Michigan gave a great answer during the question period ("Of course you should tell your fiance if you have an STD! It's all about respect!" LOL) and had a nice dress (if you like sequins and see-through patches that is). She sang "Over the Rainbow" (which has got to be the most over-used song in pageant history. AND she sang it badly) in a ridiculous blue dress, and had the bad 80's hair that the reality show had just spent 4 weeks trying to get rid of. Oh - and she looked EXACTLY like last year's winner: pretty blonde girl with big hair and in a sequined dress with tears in her eyes and roses in her arms.

What a great role model for young girls! I'm sure they'll all be out looking for the hot rollers and sparkly gowns once again. And having a personality? Forget about that! All you need is a pretty smile and a quick answer to a "difficult" question!

The really disappointing thing was going through 4 weeks of the reality show and getting to really like some of the contestants - several of whom were showcased constantly but didn't even make the final 16. My two favourites: Miss Alaska and Miss D.C. were far and above more like real women than any of the others, on top of being beautiful, and they were completely overlooked by the Miss America judges.

Kim and I were really hoping to see Miss Alaska make it: short brown hair, brown eyes, not the tanned beach girl that you would normally see wearing the crown - and with a quirky personality that came out more and more as she became more confident. It was like watching the oddball kid in your class come out of her shell and turn out to be this really cool person. She was in every episode of the show, and the Advisory Panel (who were supposed to help them accept the new, hipper image of Miss America) were always talking about her.

The judges only picked a few of the girls we had gotten to know from the TV show, so it started off on a disappointing note. And things went downhill from there...

1. The announcer was TERRIBLE. This dude fumbled every other sentence, made bad jokes about everything, then repeated the joke Clinton Kelly (from What Not to Wear) told that did get laughs so many times that he killed it. He called Miss Washington "Miss Wisconsin" (who wasn't up there anymore) and was as smarmy as you would expect a Miss America announcer to be.

2. All of the girls either sang a song or did a dance (the dances being ballet or jazz). No other talents were showcased.

3. The Question Period was supposed to be random questions from people on the street - which was totally ruined when you would see one lady's eyes moving across a card as she READ THE QUESTION TO THE CAMERA. Yup, that's nice and spontaneous. Wonder who wrote that for her...

4. Miss Utah. Everything about her pissed me off. A military woman who was so much like Sandra Bullock's character in "Miss Congeniality" that it almost seemed fake. She had this attitude that was so pro-military it made us wonder why she was even competing. The point of the show was to change, and she said on more than one occasion that she wasn't planning change at all - probably because she already was totally different from the barbie dolls who usually compete. While this was mildly admirable (and made us like her at first) her refusal to try and improve anything about herself, as she made fun of the advisory panel and the pageant itself was annoying to watch. But the American public voted her in as the 16th contestant. I guess the people watching this year are very pro-military and didn't watch her ridiculous behaviour during the 4 part series. Yes, she's a strong woman, but she didn't had any touch with her femininity and seemed resentful of even having her pictures taken. I've got no problem with the military, but to vote a woman into a beauty pageant on that novelty is really dumb. 'nuff said.

5. There were commercials for the Miss America pageant DURING the Miss America pageant. Very sad.

6. Other than the DJ spinning music and the "controversial questions", there was absolutely nothing different about the pageant this time around. The reality show didn't have any impact on the result whatsoever (I doubt the judges even saw it), and the girls all looked just like they always did - overly made-up, stiff, nervously holding hands when waiting for results, and tearfully hugging when they were eliminated. Total barbie-doll, cookie-cutter pageant girls with the same sparkly (and fugly) dresses - where were the outfits they had chosen from the reality show portion? Those outfits actually looked modern and looked good.

7. Michael Urie, who I LOVE as Mark, from "Ugly Betty", had hosted the reality portion of the show, and was completely missing from the live finale. Stacey, from "What Not to Wear" was also missing from the finale.

8. They decided it would be more fun to sit the final 10 girls together before the talent competition, then randomly announced that two of them wouldn't even get to perform. That was just MEAN. It's already scary to perform in front of a crowd, but they added even more pressure by saying "two of you won't get the chance." Just awful.

9. All of the competitions were exactly the same: swimsuits, evening gowns, talents, and questions. They could do so much more to make these competitions relevant, but stuck with the same format used in the early 1900s. I would have loved to see them each talk for a couple of minutes about their platforms and themselves instead of answering questions about Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lynn Spears.

10. Overall the show looked completely disorganized and amateurish - which is sad considering they didn't change ANYTHING.

The highlight of the night for me was when Clinton asked one of the girls (I think it was Miss Connecticut)"What does it feel like to march across a stage wearing just a bikini and high heels?"

Her response: "How should I know? I didn't get to do that!"

For four weeks, the reality show on TLC preached to the girls about being strong, modern women using less makeup and being more "real". They did segments on some of the girls during the 4 week program (it would have been better to showcase them all actually - we didn't see anything of Miss Michigan at all) where some of their personal stories allowed us to relate to them in a way that I personally have never related to any beauty pageant contestant. For the first time, some these girls seemed like smart, fun people with their own personalities and opinions, and I was excited to see what they would be like during the finale.

Only the girls who stuck with the cookie-cutter Miss America mold got to advance. The edgiest and most modern by FAR was Miss Washington, with her brown hair, exotic looks, support of gay marriage, and singing "Angels" by Robbie Williams (beautifully I might add). She made it to the final 8, and stood amidst a group of big-haired blondes. I knew she wouldn't win.

The 1st runner up, Miss Indiana, was one of the girls most resistant to change. She looks just like a soap opera star, with excessively bright eye makeup and blush - and wore a dress that was fit for a ice dancing competition. Yet she wins the second prize. I just don't get it.

I used to watch this competition as a kid - it was fun to see the dresses and the talent parts, and I remember picking a state and cheering for her throughout the show. This time around, I had 3 favourites (the top being Miss Alaska), and they were overlooked for the same kinds of girls I saw on TV when I was 10 years old. It was worse this time though - we got invested in certain people, believed things would actually be relevant and different this time. And as soon as they called the final 16, it was clear things haven't changed at all.

They spent four weeks trying to change the contestants, but obviously no time at all in changing the judges. I wonder what would have happened if the people had gotten to vote for this using the American Idol style? Imagine how much fun it would be - have the series teaching the girls to be the "new" Miss America each week, then have the talent competition one week, the swimsuit (including a fitness or health challenge rather than parading them in freaking bathing suits) competition the following week, then a final episode with evening gowns and questions. Each week people could vote for their favourites, ending with the "LIVE! FINALE!" that these shows love so much. Yes, it's a reality show, but would actually be a relevant one. No panel of fashionista judges looking for an 80-year old ideal - just real people voting for somebody to represent them.

Unfortunately, they've delivered exactly the opposite of what was promised this year, and it doesn't look like the organization is willing to change. I'm so glad they wasted our time.

I guess the "reality check" is that this pageant still has no touch with reality...

Being an actor

2008-01-24T08:57:00.000-05:00

This is what happens when celebrities have too much time on their hands. Absolutely brilliant.

Say a little prayer for me

2008-01-21T22:03:00.000-05:00

(click to enlarge)

Pretty Winter

2008-01-15T19:51:00.000-05:00

Usually by the middle of January I'm cursing the cold and snow, but for some reason I'm really enjoying the winter weather this year.

Maybe it was experiencing a rainy, damp winter with only two fluke snowfalls last year that made me miss it. I'm now willing to get out of a warm car, then tramp through snow and up a bridge to get pictures of a pretty river, or to explore a forest when it's -10 degrees.

The results have been pretty great so far and I'm looking forward to getting more snow (which of course means we'll get 5 feet of it and I'll forget all about how pretty it is while shoveling or scraping it off of my car).

These were taken at the French River in Northern Ontario just after Christmas.

And then there was the day I decided to take my camera for a walk by the Thames River here in London - right before the sun started to set.

I froze my ears, nose and camera batteries (they stopped working after a half hour but came back when the camera warmed up again), but it was totally worth it.

I always thought this was a kid's song

2008-01-14T22:34:00.000-05:00

Now that I've watched every episode of every TV show you can watch online, I decided to visit YouTube to see what I could find. After listening to a few of my usual choices, I found myself typing "Hooked on a Feeling".

It's SUCH a good song. Always makes me smile...

It's associated with a very happy memory: It was two months after I've moved out of my parents house and I was living in a house with two girls in their 30s, Cindy and Andrea (or Andy). Andy was actually from California and was having a very hard time in her marriage, so she took a summer to try and sort herself out. Cindy was dating a man called Charlie, who was a heavy drinker, super nice guy, and absolute fanatic about darts.

I was pretty lonely during that time - in a brand new place, not many friends (and most friends were leading very busy lives) and not yet comfortable with the idea that I was "on my own". Oh right - and I was going through a break-up. Not a fun time...

One night, I was reading and listening to a random mix of song when "Hooked on a Feeling" came on. Smiling, I went out of my room to say something to Cindy, and wound up meeting her in the hallway. Andy appeared from downstairs, taking the steps two by two and finishing with a twist and curtsy. Without a word, we all turned, fingers pointing in the air as we sang along. When the song finally ended, we smiled and went back to what we'd been doing before. It's probably the most random thing I've ever been a a part of. I remember thinking "Huh. That was fun" on the way back to my room, shaking my head and for the first time really believing I could make it on my own.

Having never seen the video before, I clicked on the "original video" tag, and this is what I saw:

Not sure what to say?

I'm not either.

Knowing it would be safe, I typed "the beatles" into the search bar and listened to a few favourites, one of which is quite obvious:

When I hear this song, I remember our 4th anniversary: sitting in the February night under heat lamps, on long picnic tables. The air was full of garlic and herbs and tomato sauce, and everybody seemed to having a good time. What I loved the most about it was ironically being ignored by most of the people there - a lone musician standing in the darkened square playing on his acoustic guitar.

Poor Jeremy - I spent the next half hour completely mesmerized by the music and kept trailing off in mid-sentence or saying (ie. shouting) "Hey! this is a great song!" Luckily he's used to this and we both spent time just listening and enjoying each other's company.

When I went back to the list of Beatles songs, I giggled to "Yellow Submarine" (song that makes me think of dancing around in Kindergarten) and ran over to Jeremy's office to make sure he was listening (not sure why I deserve such a patient man). After that, we were talking about songs from elementary school when I remembered the next song...

It's a song from my childhood that used to make me think about childhood, recess, and campfires. I remember loving this song as an 8 year old, singing it at Brownie Camp and with my friends at school. I always thought this was some southern folk song (turns out it's Cajun), but Now I don't know what to think.

Ignorance was such bliss.

An apt name for us

2008-01-11T16:25:00.000-05:00

Today's news was full of interesting things today. After reading a beautifully written piece about snowfall in Iraq (see previous post), an article about my generation having a dramatic impact on the upcoming election in the USA caught my eye.

As a Canadian, I'm very interested in the politics of our southern neighbours - mainly because American politics have such a powerful impact on our own. If I had the opportunity to vote in their election, I'd probably go with Obama. Apparently I'm in the majority for our generation, as the journalist writing the article found that he is very popular with people aged 18-29. He just seems to be more of an ordinary, real person - who cares about issues like health care in a way that makes you believe it's not just a selling point for voters.

But what really caught my attention was the description of our generations worldview: the reality of debt and a fiercely competitive job market after being raised to believe we had all of the opportunities in the world.

The article has all kinds of cute names for us, the children of the baby boomers: generation y, the "millennials" and (most accurate in my opinion) "generation debt".

"At first, the Millennials were the Children of the Rising Dow. They grew up during the greatest period of wealth creation in modern history, but watched their elders consume resources and run up deficits as if the party would never end. Then came the dot-com crash, terrorism, war, climate change. Epic uncertainty informs their worldview. When asked to name the issues they care most deeply about, bread-and-butter concerns such as the economy, health care, and education routinely rank high. In an October Pew Research Center poll, 80 percent of voters aged 18 to 29 cited the economy as a "very important" concern, vs. 61 percent who felt the environment was a major issue — a telling finding given all the campus activism swirling around global warming these days."

"Millennials walk the economic high wire. If nothing goes wrong, they will make it safely to the other side. The slightest disruption — a layoff, an illness — and they are off the wire and falling hard," Warren added.

...A more apt name for people like her may be Generation Debt. No group has ever started life so deeply in the hole, due mainly to mounting college costs, dwindling financial aid, and credit-card debt. The average college student now graduates with $20,000 in loans. Drew University sophomore Dominique Wilburn, 20, works three jobs — at a bookstore, as a resident assistant in a dorm, and at the school gym — to support herself and pay off her $41,000 debt. "In today's day and age, you have to have a degree, a graduate degree, to be competitive," says Wilburn.

This is the first time I've read anything about politics that so closely tied to my own concerns. Apparently some of our preceding generation HAVE noticed that their kids are dead broke and inheriting a world full of economic and political uncertainty. I have two university degrees and am literally getting buried in debt because I can't find a job with a salary high enough to pay all the bills. When my mother graduated from teacher's college, she had a job practically waiting for her. She's never had to write resumes, cover letters, complete portfolios, or compete with others to get work. And this is typical of people in her generation. I have more schooling and more experience coming into the workforce, but less chance of getting a job.

Putting aside how pathetic it is that my generation can't afford to get sick because the majority of us have no health benefits (I got sick a couple of months ago and had to fork over $60 for medication) and no pension plans, it's still a sad state of affairs when somebody with 5 years of post-secondary education has to scramble just to make ends meet. Of the people I know, only 3 couples have a house and are paying into the principal of their school and credit card debts. Every single other person I know is drowning in interest payments, rent, and other bills, has no doctor, no health plan or benefits, and doesn't know when they'll ever have the money to get married, get a house, or raise a family.

I'm not saying "poor us, pity us!" here - but this is getting pretty ridiculous.

Right now I'm battling with 3000-4000 other applicants for supply teaching jobs here in London (that is the only way to get into the school board) - mainly people in my age demographic. Why so many? Because Ontario decided that allow RETIRED teachers to stay on and work after they have retired.

I totally respect people for wanting to continue receiving paychecks and for not wanting to leave the profession they (and I) love. But this practice means they will get paychecks from the board, take jobs away from people like myself, all the while still collecting their pensions (and teacher's pensions are among the top in Canada).

What a great world: the baby boomers get to stay on and teach while their children's generation get to work at McDonald's and hope they can afford to buy groceries after paying all of their bills while we wait for them to finally retire so we can work in our field and no longer be trapped in a minimum wage, dead-end job.

So what happens when they finally all do leave their jobs and retire FOR REAL? What happens when our generation has to start caring for our aging parents after years of inadequate paychecks and mounting debts?

Ironically, our generation (or at least the people I know) have accepted their circumstances and against all odds seem to have hope that we'll someday be financially comfortable and able to live like we did when we were little and still at home. The family trips, multiple vehicles, mountains of Christmas presents, and other middle-class trappings are just a sweet memory for us. Our reality is collection agencies, car leases (or owning 10-year old broken down vehicles), scraping by to have a night out, and budgeting every penny we earn because we can't take the chance that we'll lose our jobs or get sick and not be able to work. Yet we do it, joke around about it, and find creative ways to get ahead. We want stability, pensions, families and houses, and maybe the chance to take some vacations like we did when we were little. I don't think that's too much to ask for...

Every time one of us succeeds is reason to celebrate.

I hope that the governments elected in the USA and here in Canada start to take notice that we are due to start taking things over - and that rising tuition costs, a overly-competitive job market, and inflation are going to need to be managed properly if "generation debt" has any chance of bringing back the world we knew as children.

Beautiful

2008-01-11T12:41:00.000-05:00

There are no words I can add to make this story any better.

Reading this made me feel hope for a part of the world that didn't seem to have any hope left...

off to a good start

2008-01-07T11:14:00.000-05:00

I celebrated the new year with Jeremy, Kim & Steve after a fun night of board games and strawberry daiquiris. For the first time since my friends and I discovered drinking, I woke up New Year's Day without a hangover or even a headache. The day progressed from there with us being extraordinarily lazy (one of us put their pj's back on 5 minutes after getting in the door - I'll let you guess who) and pretty much doing nothing other than watch TV reruns and playing computer games.

While things certainly aren't perfect - we haven't won the lottery and erased our debts, then bought houses in Hawaii, the Muskokas or the south of France - 2008 is definitely off to a great start...

There's lobster in my freezer.

Jeremy put together our BBQ so we finally got to enjoy the steak dinners I've been missing for a year and a half now. (and have had 4 dinners in the last week from the grill)

We've got gift cards from all sorts of fun places (La Senza, The Bay (to get a duvet cover courtesy of my mother-in-law to be), Tim Horton's, The Keg, and M&M Meats), which means shopping for house stuff and food, two of my favourite things to shop for!

I found out the school board here in London will be hiring for supply teachers soon.

There's a fantastic new reality TV show about Miss America on TLC that's hosted by one of my favourite characters from Ugly Betty. AND Clinton & Stacey from "What Not to Wear" are going to be on it telling the pageant hopefuls how to dress! The show looks to be 'so bad it's good', with the girls all living together in one house and being coached on how to be more modern and relatable to the American public. One look at some of these ladies and you can already tell they're going to have a hard time putting down the mascara brushes and hairspray.

But the best thing that's happened so far this year is:

Even if you're not a hockey fan, this is more than worth your time (highlights of the game and the celebration at the end for you non-hockey watchers) - even if it's just to watch them sing our national anthem at the end. Pierre McGuire gets cut off at the end of the video, when he says "I don't care how many times you see and hear that - it never gets old."

So yet again, we've won the gold medal at the World Juniors. This year was very different for Team Canada - a lot of adversity, drama, goalie issues, and an increasingly strong group of opposing teams. The boys who represented our country were part of one of the youngest teams to ever attend this tournament, and only had 2 returning players. The only team to beat us in 4 YEARS (in round robin or elimination rounds) was Team Sweden during the round robin, so when the final game started, we all knew that it wasn't going to be an easy win. And many people doubted that this inexperienced team could pull it off.

But just like every other year, they came out for the gold medal and would settle for nothing less.

I'd like to say that it was a pretty goal that won the gold medal, but I'd be lying. That winning shot was a lot like the rest of this tournament - a lot of hard work, and a little bit of luck. Add the passion for the sport and the desire to make a country proud, and you've got this year's Team Canada.

If you watched the video, you might have noticed the sea of red in the stands. Consider for a minute that the tournament was held in the Czech Republic, and the fact that over 4,000 of the people in the crowd of 7,500 were Canadians - it was pretty damn amazing. The victory celebration took twice as long because the team actually went up into the stands (first time I've ever seen a team do that) to let their fellow Canadians touch the cup and share the celebration. They credited the faithful Canucks who were there for every game, cheering loudly and making sure everybody knew they were there with helping to win the gold medal this year. After Sweden scored their first goal, the cameras panned the crowd, which showed a huge group of dejected Canadians and three Swedish fans (in yellow and blue) jumping up and down and cheering. It didn't take long for the racket of "Go Canada Go!" to start up again - which I'm sure gave our boys the extra jump in their step that was badly needed when overtime began. That group of 4,000 represented thousands more back home, yelling at their TVs and cheering with strangers in bars whenever things went right.

And those thousands of us who saw an ugly goal hit the back of the net in overtime cheered all together from places all over the world. I wonder how many others got a little teary-eyed when they raised our flag yet again...

And so ends my favourite holiday tradition with the singing of O Canada along with a bunch of teenagers who in two short weeks become national heroes. Some will never go further than junior level hockey, while others will be drafted into the NHL, and a small group of players will become team captains, all-star players, and heroes to more than their countrymen. In a few years names like Tavares, Stamkos, Mason, Turris, and Marchand will be listed in professional rosters and little kids will want to grow up to be just like them.

And just like now, when I hear "Sydney Crosby scores the game winner!" or "Dion Phaneuf is a force to be reckoned with!", I'll smile and remember the year they proudly stood on the blue line with their team-mates with gold medals around their necks.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee

1256 kilometers later...

2007-12-27T21:22:00.000-05:00

First off, I need to send out a very special HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
This one is to a gorgeous 11-year old girl whose personality and joie de vivre will make the whole world love her. I've known her since she was 6 years old and have watched the adorable, angelic looking little girl grow up into a pre-teen already comfortable with who she is, and witty enough to make a room full of adults burst out laughing. Recently, she discovered photography and has proved to be very good at it. As a special gift to each family, she gave us photo albums with pictures she'd taken of us this summer. Pretty fabulous gift, huh?!

Michaela,

You make the adults around you forget sometimes that you're only 11 years old. I hope you know just how brilliant you are and that you will always stay true to yourself (even when it's hard to do that). The very first time I met you, I remember saying to Jeremy that I loved your spirit. It didn't take long after that to just love you.

Jeremy and I hope you had a very happy birthday and we miss you guys already!
See you soon :)

-------------------------------------------------

On to Christmas!

Last year was so bittersweet that the only way our Christmas this year could have been spoiled was if a blizzard arrived and stopped us from traveling.

We left a day early, stopping in Dunnville at Jeremy's grandparents' place. After a couple of hours in the car we were very happy to drop our bags in the guest bedroom and settle down with rum and cokes before dinner. The plan was for J's mom to join us for supper, then a few games of cards - a quiet night before the annual Christmas Eve party in Port Colborne.

After dinner, we decided to play "Screw Your Neighbour"; a fun but occasionally inflammatory (heehee) card game loosely based on euchre rules (without partners, but still using trump cards and trying to win tricks) where somebody always gets screwed over (hence the name).

For those of you who don't know my family (or Jeremy's) - we're all fairly competitive people, but my dad and J's mom, Laurie, are definitely the most competitive of all of us. Last summer, my dad challenged Laurie to a game of bocce, before which he spent an hour practicing before she got there. People probably heard them playing in the next town.

here's the picture of the result (I'll let you decide who won):

Can you feel the love?

I honestly don't know who is more keen to win between the two of them - my dad refuses to play one of our favourite games because he lost so badly a couple of times. And while playing cards on Sunday night, my mother-in-law-to-be managed to make the word "fuck" last for about 16 syllables after losing a particularly stressful hand. Not sure if she'll ever play that game again, but if she does, I'm sure we'll be treated to another symphony of swear words and trash talk that would have had me running from the room if I didn't know how sweet and kind she actually is.

Christmas Eve

I woke up early in the morning, keeping my eyes closed as I remembered how it felt last year to awake in our teeny flat so far away from home. London at Christmas was a study in contrasts: decorations everywhere but no snow, people spending money everywhere, then side-stepping around the homeless while carrying their colourful bags. Discovering that the tree at Whitely's (a shopping center near our place) was used in one of the opening scenes of "Love, Actually" (one of my all-time favourite movies) and hearing an unearthly choir during midnight Mass at St Paul's Cathedral while missing my family and friends so much I kept getting teary-eyed.

We decided to walk part of the way back from St. Paul's that night, since we only had 20 pounds and the Tube was closed at 12:30. I won't ever understand how a huge city like that could shut down its main transportation system before the crowds leave midnight mass on Christmas Eve. There were literally thousands of people trying to leave at once, all of battling for a cab or trying to find a bus home. We walked past the crowds and down the quiet streets of London, where a few stragglers and tourists were also making their way home. Not sure how far we walked that night, but I was starting to get nervous as the streets became more deserted. When we saw a cab coming up the road, it seemed a lot safer to jump in and take our chances with the roads closer to home. When we explained to the cabbie that we only had 20 pound and needed to just get as far as that money would take us, he grinned, turned off his meter and said "I'm not putting such a pretty lady out in the streets at this time of night on Christmas Eve! Just give me the 20 and I'll take you home."
His kindness guaranteed our safe return home and walking in the door at 3am instead of 5am. I don't know if other cabbies would have done that, and yes, he got to pocket our fare, but that kind driver did us a huge favour that night. He also helped a very homesick me to feel better about the city we'd chosen to live in.

The calls to and from Canada were bittersweet and ended with me crying after each one ended. I swore to Jeremy that never again would we miss out on the traditions we'd come to love, and promised to be home for Christmas from then on.

On Christmas Eve, J's family all gather at Aunt Kim's in Port Colborne for dinner and drinks. The food is always incredible, Don Cherry's Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em plays on the television, there is lots of great conversation and at the end of the night, when everything has settled down again, a few of us take a bottle or two of champagne and sit in the hot tub on the back deck. My first year with them, it was freezing cold outside, I got to pop the champagne, and we all leaned back and grinned up at the stars as the water bubbled around us. Definitely one of my favourite Christmas traditions - we sit in the cold winter air, talking and joking around, settling into that blissful feeling that happens when you have nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the world around you.

Christmas morning is cups of strong coffee (necessary after 5 hours of sleep), presents being opened, lots of hugs and laughter, pictures taken, then a huge breakfast before Jeremy and I load up the car and drive to the lake. Usually he passes out halfway to Sudbury, so I get to sing along with Christmas music while driving up highway 400 - after leaving Barrie, there are very few radio stations, and most of them play nonstop Christmas music. This year, he stayed awake, so I got company as well as my carols. Traffic was great and we got to my parent's place in record time.

Then we get Part Two of our Christmas "morning": more presents and hugs, and gift wrap everywhere, this time with the scent of roast turkey in the air (instead of bacon and homefries). As much as I miss getting up Christmas morning at my parent's house, it's pretty great to do that twice in a day.

There are tons of new Christmas memories to add to my list: adding another member to the Hot Tub Gang on Christmas Eve, the fantastic drive up to Sudbury, walking on the frozen lake with my mom, getting to visit with my brother for more than 5 minutes, watching my dad lose at cards and NOT swear at anybody (always time for a miracle folks!), and spending time with an old friend. The food was fantastic, the drinks seemed to be perfectly mixed, hockey was on the TV a LOT, and I got to spend time with people I love.

I can't help but wonder what our Christmases will be like in five years - if we'll have any children
at that point and if our traditions will change once again. For right now, we're just enjoying our 1256 km trips because even if the distance was ten times that far it would still be worth it.

--------------------------------------------------

And finally, my favourite post-Christmas tradition:

As much as I love my Avs, this time of year is all about Team Canada and the World Junior Hockey Tournament. Seeing the best young players from around the world battle each other for a couple of weeks to find out which country is the best - while eating leftover turkey dinners and desserts. I usually get to see the first couple of games with my dad, which is always the best part, since he and I have bonded over hockey games for a very long time... Some of my favourite memories are watching the Sudbury Wolves play at "the Barn" and analyzing the games on the drive back to Capreol. Now many of the kids we cheered for (and often against) are playing in the NHL and making pretty big names for themselves.

The spirit of this tournament is captured perfectly on TV when the crowds in arenas all over the world each year are panned, showing a (ranging in size depending on which country) sea of red jerseys and maple leafs. There is always a contingent of Canadian fans in the cold, foreign arenas, usually surrounded by annoyed fans from other countries - all of whom wish Canada would just go away already. Three years in a ROW we've won the gold medal at this tournament, and the new group of boys representing our great nation are mainly 17-year old kids who were lucky enough to play together in the Super Series against Russia (where we beat them 7-0-1). They have mighty big shoes to fill, and an entire nation of hockey lovers to make proud.

I was proud of them before they started playing, simply because they battled already just to be able to wear our maple leaf on their jerseys.

Now, I'm even more proud.

This team only has 2 players returning from last year's tournament. The rest of them are new to the intensity and passion that rules the World Juniors every year, and will likely be surprised at the exposure they will receive just by participating. The few who will shine during this tournament will be always be remembered for the heart-stopping moments when they scored game-winning goals, made perfect passes, or saved flying pucks destined to end up in the net. The TSN commentators will spend hours examining and praising their skills, and highlight reels of their accomplishments will be added to videos of past WJC glories.

One of my favourite World Junior memories is from watching Dion Phaneuf shut down Alexander Ovechkin (a kid who is now amazing even the most skeptical hockey fans with moves like this), making him lose his temper and eventually leave a pivotal game, claiming a shoulder injury (he was back the next game against the USA).

The group of boys playing in Prague this year might not win the gold medal (or maybe they will...), but they have already started the tournament with 2 consecutive shut-outs and extending Team Canada's winning streak to 20 games.

At then end of today's win against Slovakia, our national anthem was played as the cameras moved across the faces of our team. Some were standing there grinning, others sung along, a few looked slightly dazed and tired. At the end of the line stood two kids who have already become big stories in this tournament: Stefan Legein and John Tavares, arms around one another, singing "O Canada" with beaming smiles as they proudly looked up at our flag.

I don't care what else they do this year as long as Team Canada continues to represent our great nation like that.

What is your favourite off-ice memory from the World Juniors?

Gord Miller: There are so many great off-ice moments, many of them spent in far-flung places with Bob McKenzie and Pierre McGuire, but one of my favourites is from the 2005 tournament in North Dakota.

Thousands of Canadian fans from Manitoba and Saskatchewan drove down for the games, but one night the highway was closed due to a snowstorm, meaning the fans could not return home. Local officials opened the domed football stadium, and nearly 5,000 fans spent the night there.

The officials later reported two things: that the Canadians pitched in and cleaned up the next morning, leaving the stadium in immaculate condition, and that they sold more beer that night than they sold in an entire season of North Dakota football.

I'm not sure which of those two things makes me prouder.

(I'm not sure either)

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year's and a wonderful holiday to you all!!!

I hope you all are enjoying the holiday season!

In which an anniversary goes unannounced, snow falls, and somebody's Christmas spirit is found

2007-12-17T23:47:00.000-05:00

Warning: this just might be my longest blog post ever. I've got lots to say and several unwritten posts to make up for...

On December 7th, my blog became two years old.

I originally started writing here as a means of keeping in touch with friends and family while working through teacher's college in Windsor, and a way to try and improve my writing. With visions of insightful, funny, and original posts to entertain the masses, I plodded forward with stories of my nephews (then newborn), experiences with teaching and university, and eventually my struggles to decide where to go after graduation.

Then London happened.

The city I'd never really wanted to see suddenly became the chosen destination for my Big Break. It's ironic that we never even looked into Paris or Rome or any other city in Europe, because England was not even on my Top 5 Countries to Visit list.

But off we went on our adventure, me utterly terrified, but excited to have a REAL teaching job - not just being stuck volunteering and working through minimum wage jobs to claw my way onto the supply list for some school board (which is exactly what I'm doing now of course). I had very high hopes and despite the (sometimes overwhelming) fear was willing to take a chance.

Last year could easily be defined as a flop for me, professionally-speaking, since I haven't exactly reaped the benefits of 9 months of very hard work at a full-time classroom teacher. I barely made enough money to support Jeremy and I, he had to move back to Canada 4 and a half months before I did, and we're now in so much debt that we'll be in our 40's still paying it off. The closest I'm getting to teaching is working for wonderful Mad Science, and enjoying the brief hour-long sessions with my classes on a weekly basis. It's a fantastic job, but walking through the corridors of the schools with my kits each week, I hear the teachers calling their kids to order, doing attendance, or following their other routines and it hits me like a punch to the stomach: this job might be fun, but when am I going to be back in a classroom again?

On a personal note, returning here to London, Ontario has also been hard. My friends all became more entrenched in their own lives, working, caring for their children, etc., and it's felt very strange coming back into some friendships after they've gotten used to me not being there. I make the bulk of the phone calls, and sometimes it seems like if I don't call some of them, we'll just stop talking altogether. It's one of the life's realities that I hate the most - that drifting apart from people who used to be such a big part of your life. Coming back to a city that we left two years ago has only magnified the fact that some of those old friendships are better left in the past.

On my Blog-versary, I sat down to write a post about all of the things that had happened since I started writing here, and instead of feeling proud and nostalgic, I started feeling regret and even a little bit of resentment towards all of the things that have gone wrong (very unlike me). I realized that while things haven't exactly been going badly (despite being fired from my job awhile back), I couldn't remember that last time I'd felt really happy for an extended period of time. That was when I started feeling even more depressed.

Then, I heard a loud BANG! and a plaintive "meeooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww" coming from the other side of the living room. Our cat had apparently fallen asleep in a box balanced on top of another box, which had tipped over and landed on its side when he shifted in his sleep. Without thinking, I grabbed for my camera just in time for him to see me, jump up and run over (meowing pitifully all the way) to me for some attention. Stifling a laugh, I tried to take his picture, but he wouldn't hold still for me. Finally I settled down with him on my lap, purring happily (and probably hoping nothing would tip over if he passed out again) while I deleted the blurry pictures.

And noticed that I had taken over 8,000 of them since I got my camera two years ago.

Like this one of my cat sleeping on Jeremy's lap - demonstrating the fact that he can pass out in any position, including with his face planted on the couch and ass up in the air - and yes, he's dead asleep here.

I'm no math whiz, but quickly my mind started calculating the fact that 8,000 times in two years I saw something beautiful enough or interesting enough that I wanted to capture it in a picture. Since my camera often stays at home, those 8,000 pictures probably represent about a third (maybe even less) of the the times that I wished I had my camera. So that means that about 12,000 times a year. This happy little bit of math means that about 32.8 times a DAY something happened that was picture-worthy.

Despite the fact that I often take 20 pictures of the same thing - this math is still somewhat logical, because I also delete a LOT of pictures too.

Thanks to my sweet little cat, I started focusing on the positive and spent hours looking at pictures from Paris, London, and all over Ontario - with smiles and tears and the realization that things were not as bad as they seemed.

I'm not saying that things have suddenly become perfect and I'm not feeling blue anymore. But that sadness and frustration was put very much in perspective.

Pick up a pebble from the ground and hold it up to your eye
As tiny as it is, the pebble will block your view of the world around you
When you put it back down on the ground, you can see it for what it is:
a tiny bump in eternity
- anonymous

Okay, so maybe this isn't a picture of a pebble, but the penny seems more appropriate at this time
since money has recently become the bane of my existence (and I just happened to have this picture
handy from when I first got this camera)

Reality intruded after a few days of peace and knocked me over the head - in the form of 35cm of snow. Having been born and raised in Northern Ontario, I hate the idea of a Christmas that isn't white, so at first I was thrilled to curl up with a good book (or three) and watch the flakes pile higher and higher in the street outside.

Sunday morning brought a major winter storm warning that we would most certainly get a hell of a lot of snow in a 24 hour period. People were told to stay off the roads and travel everywhere became a nightmare. Flights canceled, roads closed, and travelers booking motel rooms to get out of the storm. Just for fun I brushed off my car with our broom in the morning to see just how much would fall through the day (the answer: a LOT). When I pushed open the door to laugh at how much had accumulated, the phone rang and ruined my joy at having snow to play in and a white Christmas.

"Hi Melinda? I'm just calling to let you know that we are not responsible for snow removal and so you and the others in the house will have to work out something to get yourselves dug out", said my landlady in a no-nonsense tone.

Putting aside how incredibly UNCOOL it is to spring news like that on a person who's just been through a major blizzard - the issue of snow removal had never been brought up before and our landlady and her husband had bragged about their upkeep of the yard through the summer - so we had just assumed that snow removal was part of the package. Unfortunately there was nothing in the lease about this, and the Ontario Landlord-Tenant Act doesn't deal with this issue either. The only thing that supports us is the statement that landlords are required by law to ensure safe entry and exit of the building.

I tuned out the sound of her voice telling me about how Oakville got even more snow than London and how tired they were from shoveling. As if I give a damn about them taking care of the driveway at the house they own while they make a $10,000 profit from us living here. They refused to consider paying somebody and she didn't respond to my offer of Jeremy and I shoveling to save everybody the trouble of sorting out who would shovel where and when with our fellow tenants.

Around 6pm the snow stopped and the sounds of snowblowers and plows filled the winter air. People took walks through the neighborhood and commiserated about how much shoveling sucks and how long it would be before the City plowed our roads. Armed with shovels, the girl who lives downstairs and myself went out to start shoveling (Jeremy would be taking the second shift). After 5 minutes, we realized the job was much bigger than we'd thought, and she started muttering something about just paying for a damn plow to dig us out. While explaining that Jeremy and I couldn't afford it, we heard another snowblower start up nearby.

Figuring that nothing was gained by keeping quiet - I shouted out that we were looking for some help and "how much would it be worth to bring the snowblower over here for a bit?" The Snowblower Guy (who we later found is called Jason) said he'd finish his driveway and come around the block. When he got to our place, we were already exhausted and cheered as he pushed his way down the street. It took him less than 20 minutes to clear our entire driveway AND parking lot. When he was finished, we tried to pay him, but he wouldn't take any money.

I love that about people - whenever weather or something major strikes, you can always count on some helpful strangers. We marched inside, pulled off the winter gear and poured ourselves a drink while I measured out ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. 30 minutes (and one more drink) later, I had a batch of cookies piled onto a Christmas plate with a card for our helpful neighbour. We talked about putting money into a card for him, but decided not to, since he'd already insisted that it was no problem at all to help out.

This time of year there are angels all over the place... Jason wasn't just the nice guy who helped save me from pulling all of the muscles in my back - his kindness reminded me yet again that there are a lot of good things in the world, and that most people will take the time to help somebody who needs it.

Then there was the nice lady who held the door open for me while I struggled to push a shopping cart full of Mad Science equipment onto the elavator today. And the guy who let me in front of his car on the way to work this morning. And the boss who is giving me extra hours this week because she knows I'm strapped for cash. And the best friend who listened to me talk about my frustration about life in general - and offered her usual support and words of wisdom.

"You know Mel, it's bad right now, but you're right on the edge of getting to where you want to be. Just think - every day you go through this is one day closer to where you want to be."

Not sure how she got to be so wise at such a young age...

In a week, I'll be at home with my mom and dad, sipping a Spanish coffee (I hope) and enjoying every nuance of being home for Christmas: the smell of a turkey dinner, the taste of my mom's cookies, the sound of my parents bickering in their Old-Married-Couple way, the sight of my lake covered in snow.

Last year I cried on Christmas Day. There have been a lot of tears since, and I'm sure there are more to come, because hey - that's Life. It's not easy for anybody, and we sometimes have to fight to keep positive (for some, just to keep going).

The great thing about Life though? Tears wash away, and things lost (like one's Christmas spirit) can be found again.

Pay it Forward

2007-12-12T14:29:00.000-05:00

I had another post planned for today, but something else came up...

This time of year, I wish I had more money - not for gifts or cute outfits to wear at parties, but so I can give back some of the kindness that people have shown me through the year. Usually this comes in the form of donating food or cash to various charities, but this year my bank account is hovering in it's overdraft, making financial donations just not possible.

So, to do my part this year, I'm encouraging everybody who is able to think about all of the people out there who are in need this Christmas and to try and do their part to help make the world a happier place.

If you don't know a charity to donate to, please visit Suldog's blog for an inspiring story about a woman who lost both of her legs and is now fundraising for prosthetic ones - she and many others like her would benefit so much from our help.

If you're in a situation similar to mine and can't afford to send money, maybe consider posting something on your own blog about a worthy charity, or tell the story of a person you know of who needs some help during this holiday season. I really believe that we can make a difference...

Thanks & be back tomorrow with my 2 year Blog-aversary post.