New Dog, Old Tricks

It's an old story really. Real old. Perhaps a bit dull? Boy goes to school. Boy meets girl. Boy continues with school. Boy gets married. Boy continues with school. Boy has family. Boy finishes school. Boy grows up to be King. Early in his reign, he surveyed his domain and said to himself 'I am one of the people...I will go out and mingle among them.' He invited them to breakfast in small groups where they were able to make their own minds up that their new king was, indeed, a wonderful man, brilliant tactition and compassionate good hearted leader of the people. The King listens to them and responds to them--when, of course, they are speaking his language. The language of conformity. The language of banality. The language of structure minus heart. It's an old language. Spoken by many boys for many years. Unlike Latin, it's not yet extinct. One might wonder why it's still around and spoken throughout the world? Seeing that it hasn't evolved? I dunno. Another one of life's mysteries. The world is full of them. Nevertheless, the King loves to speak the old language. He is a master of the witty turn of phrase. The, how do the Europeans put it? The double entendre. More entertaining than any salesman one might encounter -- even those who sell used cars. On one particular occasion, the King was invited to a special ceremony. He was to honour people in his Kingdom who had 'done good.' It was another opportunity for him to speak to the masses and he was tickled pink -- not that pink...but, the manly pink. He had awards to hand out. He looked around. Knowing that he was King. That all eyes were upon him. That he was untouchable. He could do or say anything. What did he say? He looked around and asked for his 'Vanna.' 'I need a Vanna. Where is my Vanna?' He kept asking until he spied a young blonde woman. Thrilled to be chosen by the King himself for this honour, she assisted in handing out the awards, all the while doing her very best to hide behind a post as the King's people looked on in awe.

Limbo

I have a strange feeling of trepidation today. I had the day off from work. Went to the dentist...a bit of gum disease--I really don't floss as much as I should--and a small hole in a filling that will need to be repaired next week. I made a marble bag for A. 'A' has been teased lately by a neighbour boy who has marbles while A doesn't. So, J and I got A some marbles today and I thought I could make a bag. I did. Hand sewn. I'm actually quite proud of it. I even managed to hide most of the franken stitching. Best part is that A likes it.

I don't know from where my unease is coming. I have a couple hip hop shows coming to the theatre this weekend as well as an afternoon of musical theatre excerpts. The hip hop might be a bit demanding...they require a bit of a set up but, it should be pretty smooth. The musical theatre folks come from a school that trains kids really well. The kids have pipes and acting ability. It's fun. The kids got an early birthday present today from 'C' -- a couple of gorgeous blankets. They have been hand crocheted and are beautiful. The kids love them. I covet them. Very very cool.

It's not even a feeling of unease really...it's kind of a nervous energy...something I used to feel before a performance. Odd. The garden is growing very nicely. I already have cherry tomatoes appearing. Perfect and green. The beans are stretching out their runners up the bamboo poles. The cucumbers are looking to overtake the yard. All is good. I don't have many weeds. I think it's because I was so excited by April to have a garden that I was out there weeding everyday--weeks before planting. I love playing in the dirt.

Oh...one more thing. Kids had pizza for dinner tonight so I made them a dessert pizza too. One slice of watermelon covered with 'sauce' made up of raspberry apple sauce. I then added pieces of cantelope and slices of kiwi. It was awesome!! I highly recommend this.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Mythology

It's a rite of passage. Santa Claus doesn't exist. Neither does the Tooth Fairy. Certain people actually tell you that they love you for their own personal gain. So-called 'reality t.v.' is scripted. I've accepted these and more. This latest one, however, is more difficult to handle. I didn't realize that I was so naive but, can you believe that I believed universities were supposed to harbour a culture of independent thought and freedom to research things that mightn't be on any top-ten list of the moment. I received in my mailbox today a red book outlining the new and improved direction that the university is planning to take. I actually submitted a proposal to the committee in charge of creating this plan of action. I kinda wish I could take my words back. The report is called 'Global Engagement for the 21st Century.' Seriously. Here's the link so you know I'm not making that up: Report Can you tell that the communications office has gained more control? Besides the 'newspeak' type of writing, the content leaves a bit to be desired. Art and culture are pretty much ignored in this particular report. There really isn't much meat here on the whole. There is, however, something that I find particularly disturbing. When addressing the matter of research, the report states that '[t]he University must be strategic in determining those areas of research excellence to which it is prepared to give institutional priority and support. These Strategic Research Areas, must, however, be determined from the ground up, so long as they reflect or express the University's priorities.' (emphasis mine) The report goes into specifics: 'there should exist a critical mass of faculty support within the institution to support any particular initiative. The risk that strategic themes simply reflect a single unit or an elite few, to the exclusion of the broader university research profile, must be minimized.' So...am I reading this right? Does this mean that the research that will be supported will be the most popular? I'll take a guess that this popular research will have the support of corporations who are willing to provide lots of money to guarantee that what they want studied is studied. A bonus for them, I guess, is that they are also getting specially trained future workers.

For some reason, I've been thinking about my family. My grandfather on my dad's side was whisked away to a Soviet labour camp in approx. 1937. My grandmother spent months trying to find out what happened to him. She went from one office to another...each time being told that she was in the wrong line. Stalin was a master of bureaucracy. Finally, one man told her that if she continued, she would be taken to join him. Another, kinder, fellow told her that the minimum sentence for a crime against the state was 10 years. It was in her best interest to give up. She packed up her family and escaped to Finland. Later, when approaching her pension years, she was told that she needed proof of either her husband's death or if he was still alive. She managed to find out that he had died at a camp somewhere in Siberia in 1947. I guess his sentence was up.

When the freedom to think and research is taken away, innocent people can get picked up and forced into labour ... their lives stolen. If the freedom to think is gone...so is freedom. I'm probably overreacting but I really don't like what's happening. Not at the university, not in government, not in the environment...etc. I love my family. I love my friends. These are things I value. I also value my thoughts (as mundane as they are...they're mine). It's very difficult to sit back and watch as an institution I value is transformed before my eyes into something unrecognizable. Or, have I just not noticed the truth? Have I believed in this particular myth for too long?

Let Me Eat Cake!

I've just downed two Stella and am feeling a bit buzzy and am now waiting for my tea to steep. I got the best tea pot ever for my birthday. Very cool. Very hip. Doesn't drip. Yay. J is refusing to get me a snack. Bastard. I'm using sex against him. ie. I don't plan on having any but might be persuaded if I got a yummy snack. Thing is, I don't know what I want. Chances are, whatever J got for me wouldn't be right at this moment anyway so......and really, I'm buzzed and sleepy...not a good combination for late night romping. I vaguely remember a time in my past when alcohol actually seemed to energize me. J isn't falling for it anyway. He's caught on to my wily ways. The magic is gone. I've gone all predictible on him. Kids are finally asleep. Buggers stay up really late and they still seem to have energy in the morning. Damn...I just sneezed and bit my tongue. Yes...I'm pretty useless at the moment. But hey, I can type. A physics professor used our theatre today. He had to take pictures of a person serving a tennis ball. The tennis player served the ball into the wings where I have German dressing set up so the ball came back. I spent the day spring cleaning the office. It is the last day of spring after all. Happy solstice all! Anyone looking for a good read? Check out the 'Hatbox Letters' by Beth Powning. Beautiful and poetic and a damn fine read. J is getting me a cup of tea. I told him that I was writing about him. He's laughing at me. I forgot to poor the water into the pot. La La La. I'm useless right now. Best if I go to bed. After my tea of course. My dad and his girlfriend were in town for a couple days. It's really nice to see him happy. I like her. She is definitely strong minded...and she adores him. A good combination for him. They are on their way to Halifax to see my brother E and to visit the east coast. It will be the first time that my dad is out there. Funny. When he and my mother were married she always complained that they never went anywhere. After the divorce, my mother told me that my dad would never go for a walk with her. Now, my dad is travelling all the time...seeing the world and enjoying life. He also makes a point of walking 5-10km everyday. Not too shabby for a 76 year old. His girlfriend brought the best poppy seed lemon cake I've ever had. There's some left. It's in the fridge. That's what I want. Catch y'all later.

Who Is John Galt? Part II

I'm feeling increasingly irrelevant as mornings come and go. In a recent message outlining his perspectives on the role of the university in today's world, the President of Carleton University argues that a primary function of the university must be to prepare students for the work force. Although he agrees '...that universities are first and foremost about the public good--about providing our students with the self-awareness and critical skills necessary to be responsible citizens in civil society....' he goes on with a 'but' and states that '...given their [students and parents] enormous private investment, it is only reasonable that students expect some form of private return.' Huh. I guess a higher education itself is no longer a 'return' eh? Knowledge for knowledge's sake is not worth all that much unless it can bring in the coin. Where did this 'reasonable' belief that one deserves a return come from anyway? Anyone else read 'Pygmalion?' It reminds me of those students who state that they 'paid enough in tuition to deserve a grade better then a B.' I wish I were making that up. Well, the president also mentions that '...without a decent livelihood, it is difficult to make much headway on living a good life and making a difference.' Hmmmm. Funny how I don't see many social activists driving around in Lexus. The president takes on critics who have said that '...the university should not be in the business of preparing students for work....' as it '...simply ignores the reality of the world in which we live, and that universities, over time, have become enormously complex institutions that provide a range of programs and services unthinkable even 50 years ago.' I guess the university should become one stop shopping for education. Part trade school, part professional school, part ... circus? What about us poor sods who believe in learning for the love of learning and after obtaining a degree don't even want to teach (heresy). He also states that '[l]earning is no longer something that only occurs at the "beginning" of a career' as he argues that most people in the current workforce will need to be retrained at some point in their lives. I think I'm beginning to catch on. He's not arguing for students. He's arguing for funding. If he can swing retraining as an option he's opened up the university to an untapped well of prospective clients...er, I mean students.... To read the entire piece, feel free to go here: 'From The Top'

Why does this article bother me? Why indeed. Why are universities becoming more like Walmart chains then institutions of higher learning? Just because this seems to be a current trend does it really make one naive to want to rally against it? Surely not all trends are good ones...remember shoulder pads? Is there a place for the intellectual? It seems to me that the university, if it continues to head down this road, will no longer be able to be a safe home for those who want to challenge the status quo...it might mess with corporate sponsorship. I feel disheartened. I feel that I may as well be going wee into the wind. I feel outnumbered. All I can do is say that I don't subscribe to the particular point of view that is posited in the above mentioned article. Is there hope? Who is John Galt?

A History of Smoking (Part V)

It was funny how one month I was chastising my boss for smoking in the office, and in the next I was bumming a light from him. I loved smoking. I worked in a university cafe and took delight in grabbing 'breaks' during light moments and going over to sit with other smokers. My guitar instructor found out. He chastised me. Told me I was killing my capillaries...that my playing would suffer. I really didn't care. I had a bottle of Jack in my locker. I was enjoying the life of the 'artiste.' Geesh. Then I met 'A.' He came to one of my recitals. He told me that he thought smoking was sexy. I mocked him and faked coughing up a lung in his face. I liked him. He didn't smoke. After a while, neither did I. Well, not until we went off to England together. A couple nights before we left there was a moment of forshadowing. One of our drunken neighbours dropped a bottle on his car and smashed the windshield. I reached for a smoke. I nearly puked. The desire to smoke it was there. We left the country. We were gone for 58 days. We backpacked and stayed in hostels. After 2 weeks, I bought myself a pack of B&H and was smoking in the tent. I was rebelling. He didn't like it. I didn't care. I was in control. We got back to Canada and, about 4 days later, he broke up with me. I was heart broken. Devestated. But...I was smoking again. I also lost weight. Perfect. How could smoking be bad for me? I gained new friends...of course they smoked. I remember sitting in rooms downing red wine and jack and finishing off a pack. One night, I brought a boy home from a coffee shop. I remember finishing off 2 bottles of wine, a half a bag of pot, 2 condoms and a pack of smokes. I remember my mom calling me the next day and I was able to mention all of these things except for the smoking -- the pot I mentioned...the cigarettes I couldn't. Strange eh? I became adept at hiding my smoking from my parents. Much easier when I was 12 hours away. Harder when I went to visit them or they came up to visit me. The smoking/non smoking dance was an odd one. And, at the time, one I had fun being a part of.

Kill 'em All!!

I found this game: skeetersplat
I'm hooked.
There is also a game where you race to make sushi...pacman style!
It's the simple things that keep me amused really.

With Silver Bells & Cockle Shells

It's raining again. I'm not complaining. I'm singing. My garden is coming up very well. I put in some bamboo poles to support the beans as they are already 4" high! J came home with lumber. He's building himself a work bench so that he can build the shelves and laundry sorting table I want. He has already built me shelves without the work bench but, this bench will make everything easier for him he says. Ok. I still haven't been able to find homes for my books since moving here. As well, it's a pain not to be able to fold laundry as it comes out of the dryer. The kids need new beds too. J has bunk bed plans. I'm not certain about that. I wonder if we'd be better off just purchasing a set. Then again, if J made them, they'd be sure to last. I guess it depends on how much spare time he has this summer. I've started and stopped and started and stopped a letter to a friend. Even though I'm typing, not writing -- my handwriting sucks...really--it's hard to get into a letter writing groove. Maybe I should just put pen to paper and let her decipher the scrawl. It is strange having a long distance relationship. So much of what I want to say is caught up in moments--once passed, gone--and what I miss most just can't transfer over the telephone. But, really, we've always been able to live separate lives and remain close. This has probably been one of the reasons that we have been able to remain as close as we are. That and well...she's got a groovy bod eh? Like...she's hot. (hee hee...well come on...it's not like anyone actually reads this) So I clocked in 37 hours of overtime in May. Car repairs are paid for! Kids, however, have been missing me. And, I've been missing them. This month I've vowed no overtime. Unfortunately, I still have to work every weekend until July but, those shifts are shorter (usually 4 hours or less) so there is still plenty of playtime left in the day. J is picking up a lot of shifts...the union thing is working well for him. This means that we are finally starting to come out of financial panic land and can start saving up for things like...a new car...a house...vacations that don't involve driving to visit my parents...etc. etc. etc. Oh. I have another pet peeve. Strong victims. People who really shouldn't be victims but seem to purposefully put themselves 'out there' as such and, instead of standing up for themselves then and there (and really, they are strong enough to do so), choose instead to fall back into victim response mode and whinge afterwards about how horrible the situation was and how hard done by they were by ... the system...the corporation...the man...the ideology...the WHATEVER. Geesh. Stand up at the time or don't bother. I just feel like slapping them. I mean...have some agency eh? Thankfully, I'm not seeing as much of this anymore (could it be that the it's cuz the main school year is over and most of the whingers have left campus to pursue summer jobs where they will, no doubt be shat upon by someone thus justifying to themselves their propensity to cry foul when really it's them that have fouled up cuz they haven't bothered to actually step up to the plate). Thus endeth my rant.

Happy Birthday

Today is my birthday.

Odds & Sods

Could my feet be allergic to outside? It's sad really. Anytime I go outside barefoot my feet get itchy. Does that mean I'll don appropriate footware? No. I like being barefoot too much. I'll just settle for itchy feet. Speaking of itch...the mosquitos are horrible so far this year. The bites don't just itch either. The area around where I've been bitten is also sore. Another sign of a future pandemic I suppose. Had a day off. Enjoying it. Well...except that I had to bring my car in for an oil change and am facing a bill of at least $1500. Seems everything is leaking...and it has loose ball joints. Me and my car are one. The impending loss of cash is one thing...worse yet is that they sent me home in a minivan. It's a tank. It's huge. It's horrible. Ok...roomy on the inside and, on a day like this, it's nice to have working air conditioning but...it has zero pick up...doesn't corner well...sightlines suck....overall, I give it a blech. I think I offended the poor dude who handed it over to me. He was proud and thinking he was giving me a treat. At least he jigged the numbers on how much gas was in the tank so I shouldn't have to add any more to it before it's returned. I then took the kids to the eye doctor. J is working so both had to come for S's appointment. Good news...her eye is improving. First time ever we got in and out right away too...probably because I brought 'the boy.' I should remember that. I then dragged the kids to a bookstore looking for Richards...or Hospital. The eyes of the woman working there lit up when I mentioned these two authors...she was out but...suggested The Hatbox Letters by Beth Powning and, Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden. Looking forward to them. My house is clean...the laundry is up to date...no forseeable rush tonight. Can't find a sitter (ok..didn't really look all that hard) so will have to miss the daycare board meeting. I feel a bit bad but...I do believe that I'll get over it. Worked a show on Sunday...had a sick tech. Went well. I've still 'got it.' The garden is planted. Beans, carrots, beets (seriously), cucumbers, and tomatoes. Neighbours weren't around when I planted...well, the kids were...and they all helped. I also planted herbs beside my door. Oregano, chives, basil, parsley, lavender and tarragon. I'm pretty much set for June.

For Shame

I've a day off from my day/evening/weekend/career? job tomorrow. Yippee. I plan to work on cleaning the upstairs bathroom, picking up in the kids' rooms, getting some flower type plants, picking up some seeds (yes...although there is a frost warning upon us tonight, the time for planting is nigh), go to the gym (been far too long), do some groceries, have a spa-like bath, get a book from a bookstore (still haven't read the latest...yes, it's been a couple years now...from David Adams Richards), read a bit, drink some wine (thank you CTP), do no more than 3 loads of laundry and cut my toe nails. I have a full day ahead of me. That said, a couple things have been on my mind.

1) I spoke to a dear friend the other day. His partner hates me. This wasn't always the case. We got on quite well. She decided, however, to let me know about her intense hatred last year (a week after I had taken her out for dinner at the Gypsy Coop). I've avoided calling because a) I don't want to cause more trouble, and b) I'd rather avoid confrontation just in case she was the one to answer the call. I honestly don't know what happened. My friend cites run of the mill craziness. Perhaps. It's kinda weird knowing that someone out there feels that I have caused them nothing but grief. And here I thought our last meal together was rather tasty.

2) I don't have any friends close by to have coffee with on a whim. This sucks. But, I do know of 2 people who I haven't called in a bit that really could become said coffee whim folks. What's holding me back? Inertia probably.

3) The sports frenzy that appears to be everywhere these days is bothering me. It's not that I'm anti competition. I'm all for it. I'm as competitive as the next person (perhaps a bit more) but, I like to compete to improve myself...not to put someone else down. On a grander scale, if our country's team can beat another country's team does that make us superior in any real way? Does it really matter? Why can't we take lessons from one of the greatest indoor sports...yes, I'm talkin' sex. The only time there are losers are when any of the folks involved aren't having a good time.

4) It makes me sad when I see strong women getting beat up and smashed down for being too mouthy (this mouthiness only noticed because their strengths successfully lead them to positions basking in proverbial limelight where they are expected and encouraged to profer expertise on things far beyond the scope of their knowledge/experience). They really should learn to remain demure and uncontroversial. Maybe we just expect too much from them. Like asking a wet behind the ears pop singer for her views on Iraq and then deciding to scoff at her answers. We set them up, then tear them apart. Frankly, it's a bit dull. I'm also reminded of being in grade 2 and being forced to walk in the ditch on the way to school because I answered too many questions in class.

5) Bad acting, silly dialogue, unbelievable premises ... when will this drought be over? The emperor is naked folks! Stark naked!

6) Is money so important that our only punitive action is to withhold it? I yearn for public stocks. What about some old fashioned shame? I'd actually buy that.

The Show is Over, Long Live the Show

Strange feeling this. Closed a show this afternoon. Struck it out. It's gone. Replaced it with another show that ran tonight. I left at curtain. Tomorrow is another show. Sunday will have two. Monday is a rehearsal for shows on Thursday and Saturday. Wednesday and Friday are rehearsals for next Sunday's show. Get 'em in, Get 'em on, Get 'em out. That's our motto. Today was a blur. Everything got done. I'll miss the folks that left this afternoon. It was a really good group to work with. That's how it goes tho'...you meet people for a brief time and work like dogs together to create something special...then let it all go. The set comes down, the costumes are packed away, the lights get focused back to plot. The loading door gets closed and the stage is readied for the next group. I'm looking forward to Tuesday. It's a day off. This weekend I only have a couple small shifts so it's not so bad. I'm craving some serious family time. I'm also craving going to a bar/pub, dancing madly to 'the smiths,' 'the violent femmes,' etc. and drinking scotch and coke and playing some passable pool. I don't remember the last time I got drunk...with friends...just because. I'm also craving a good read. 'The Da Vinci Code', while diverting, was no mental exercise. A week of watching 'Hamlet' has made me realize how wonderful good language and acting can be...and how much I miss it. I start dreaming about 'writing that book' I've been putting off...or working on some other artistic venture. Actually, while watching the play today, I thought how it would work if the characters of Hamlet were portrayed as cards from a common playing deck...with Hamlet as the joker. It would work. I think it would work quite well. I like playing in my brain.

Epiphany

Something happened recently that helped to, once again, put things in perspective for me. Without going into any details, suffice it to say that once again at a time where I was becoming swamped with/at work and feeling guilt at my inability to provide enough quality time for my family, this 'something' that occured shook me out of my self absorption enough to realize a couple things:

a) I have it pretty damn good;
b) It wouldn't take much for things to change drastically and, as such, it's best to appreciate each moment as it comes to its fullest, and;
c) Sometimes, the best cure for what ails ya is a good friend and, if not readily available, a good reminder -- in this case I chose Alden Nowlan (missing you to cm)

It will be an early night tonight. Sweetest of dreams to all!

Fantasy

Ok. Sorry. I have to gloat a bit. Last night was wonderful! It's hard, sometimes, when you are with someone for a long time to keep the proverbial spark alive. It takes work. Understanding. Compromise....yadda yadda yadda. So. Last night, J and I each had an 'opening night' in separate theatres. I left for home as soon as my show started. I have staff who run the shows in my space. I would rather bugger off and be with my kids. J had to stay for his show. Not so much 'had to' ... it is a labour of love. Well. I hinted. J got the hint!!! Big time! At home alone, I began to think that J would probably forget about me and stay with the cast at the theatre and...later move on with the stragglers of the group to a nearby pub and get trashed only to stumble home around 3am reeking of cigarettes and alcohol, crashing on the coucn and making the next day a veritable right off. It's happened before. Not last night though! Around 11pm I heard the familiar key opening the back door. J came home. Not only did he come home...he brought home some beer from the cast party! He told me that he had worked like a dog with these people all week and, when the show was over, he enjoyed a celebratory drink with them. After that, he told them that he had an early morning and had to go. They all cheered him and he took off. He told me that he had been thinking of me all day. And, was kind of excited at being able to surprise me. He told me that he would rather share his 'triumph' with me than anyone else. We sat on the couch...drank the beer ... and talked!! We haven't shared a beer together in about a year.(talked until we went upstairs...but you may thank me for not going into more detail). It was magical. Seemed, at times, more fantasy than reality. It may seem strange but, last night finally showed me that J actually does put us first. Our relationship matters to him. I know that I should 'know that' but, without an occasional reminder, it's amazing how quickly things can sour. Well, I'll sign off now. J is in the shower. I brought the kids to school and hit the gym this morning. Now, we are going for a drive in the country. Maybe do a picnic lunch. Cheerio.

Loving the Feeling

The other day, J, the kids and I were driving around...the windows were down...we were scarfing back ice cream cones...good tunes were on the radio. It was a good moment. Actually, it was an amazing moment. I'm getting a lot of those lately. I have amazing kids. I have a good home. I have a wonderful partner. I have a great job. My ass is beginning to look smoking (thank you lunges!). I have fantastic friendships (although they all live too far away to sneak a coffee break). I have 2 cats who brighten my day (except for the early morning 'we want food' whinge). I'm soooo happy I feel that I might actually burst...it's not cliche...I really might! World terrors, stupid wars, soccer mom/anti-poor/let them eat cake budgets, egomaniacal directors, crazy springtime drivers will all have to take a back seat. I'm feeling good.

Where I Work

I look up and see out of the corner of my eye (to the left) a grand piano, covered, sitting on a stage. My stage. My piano. For all intensive purposes. A 9' Steinway Concert D Grand Piano. Freshly tuned. Jealous? I have a colour monitor which is constantly on showing me what is going on on the stage. Behind me, I have wired up speakers. I can choose to have them on or off. They are off now. There is no one on stage. No one to listen to. I'm a part time voyeur. To the left of my computer monitor (I have, at present, a 19" flat screen) there is a page scotch taped to the wall which has my daughter's first full attempt at writing out the alphabet. It's very good. She ran out of room at the bottom so switched colours from orange to blue and wrote out 'w x y and z' at the top. My daughter is very smart. She doesn't suffer fools gently either. Above the alphabet is a poem from a friend...I thought she wrote it...that she didn't doesn't really matter since whenever I look at it, I think of her -- A Woman Should Have... and Every Woman Should Know... Directly in front of me I have a large cork board filled with thank you cards and clippings. Interesting clippings. To me, anyway. One is a news item talking about a 'lost' Amazon tribe that re-emerges from the jungle just in time to be ordered off the land. I also have a fire safety notice. I accidently set off a fire alarm in the theatre a couple months back and got my wrist slapped by the powers that be. They gave me a notice. I put the notice on my wall. Soon, it will be covered by other cards/papers/notices. Like vines covering cottage walls. I also have requisite pictures of kids and J. To my right is an ancient speaker. Ok, not ancient but, was new probably in the 1960's. I used to have my computer wired to it through the ancient amp that sits on top of it. Both sound like crap. I keep them because they are cool, the right height to act as additional file storage space and, I really couldn't be bothered with disposing of them. On top of the amp is an old heat shield from a follow spot. At the moment, it is storage for old show reports. One day, it, and it's partner that resides on another desk, will be transformed into herb boxes. I have a book shelf filled with old log books and industry mags as well as holding a magnetic tape eraser. It's cool so I keep it. I have a cabinet filled with old audio reels and albums. Ancient artifacts. Behind me to the right is a drafting table. It has shelves underneath that house rolls of old and current plots. More pieces of equipment replaced by my computer drafting program. Behind me is another desk. Also mine. On it sits a stuffed gorilla. I worked a show wherein the set designer asked if I would rig a monkey up out of sight lines. I did. In gratitude, I got the gorilla. On the walls, I have taped some show posters and cool industry articles. My actual work surface desk tends to fill quickly with industry mags, current and future show notes, gear gak and coffee cups. I try to keep a number of pens scattered around because I always find it difficult to find them when needed. Although I have a number of note pads on the go, more often then not, I end up writing important information on the back of scrap paper. I like my office. It's a hole. It's a dive. It's mine. For now. It's the type of office that, when I go, will be used by a person who will add to the decor but, will essentially leave it as it is. This office belongs to the theatre. I'm here cuz I fit.

The Real Poop

I couldn't even dream about posting today without talking about poop. Things happen in 3's and shit talk on the blog is no exception. The family and I got some bags of cow manure -- it now comes in unscented varieties! -- and I spread it over the back garden. I'm loving this garden. The earth is filled with worms. Even though it's still too early to plant, I love just being in the dirt. When I first started digging, the neighbours came out and started to help. Yay I thought. We'll have a communal garden. Crap, I thought. We'll have a communal garden. I like my neighbours. Working together is fine. But...well...it's my garden. I'm a competitive, territorial bitch when it comes down to it. I didn't let any of this animosity show, however. As I said, I kinda like the idea of everyone working together. As well, it seemed that they were really enjoying themselves too. To be perfectly honest, so was I. Today was the perfect day to spread the manure however. It was raining. No one came to help. I dug in perfect harmony with my surroundings. I know that one day, I'll have to share. Just not today. Today, it was just me, my garden and a couple bags of poop.

Flower Dreams and Other Poop

I am a much relieved person today. I've been having the weirdest violent sort of dreams. I'm not sure why. I finished The DaVinci Code but, I don't recall any bloody monks in my dreams. Some friends of mine were smack dab in the middle of the 'civil' conflict in Nepal. They are safe and sound (thankfully and welcome back!) but, even the image of gun toting anti monarchists weren't the main players of my dreams. To be honest, I'm not sure what my dreams have been about. I have woken up tired and vaguely aware of being uncomfortable all night with violent movies playing out inside my head. Last night I finally was able to sleep. Well. I woke up shortly after 9am feeling foggy but refreshed. I still dreamed last night but I don't think the violence was there. My son, on the other hand was awake when J went into his bedroom this morning. He told J that he had had a nightmare. Apparently, among other things, the flowers that he had been dreaming about turned into poo. He then informed J that that part of his dream had been kinda funny. Dreams are funny things. I believe that some dreams are portents but most, in my case anyway, are poorly shot video images depicting the clutter that has accumulated in my brain.

Ok. A short book review. The DaVinci Code was a quick read. A pretty good read. I think the controversies surrounding the book are a bit over the top. Mind you, I don't see a problem with the idea that Jesus was married and had kids and his blood line survives today. It doesn't cripple my faith. Mind you, I believe that my family can be linked back to the great Genghis Khan. Virility has a power all its own. The predominance of the female goddess idea and the links between modern day Christianity and past pagan practices was refreshing but nothing really new. The book has a few characters who belong to Opus Dei. From the media accounts, I was expecting to see all the Opus Dei folk lumped together as crazy catholic fundamentalists. Seems there was only one. And what group of folks out there can't claim to have at least one crazy fundamentalist among them? The book was clever. Not mind blowing. Not overly deep. A good beach book.

Blog Response. I've been thinking about Canadian troops in Afghanistan. I'm against it. I've been trying to work out why. Yes the Taliban is bad. Yes, western powers have screwed things up over there and things need to be put right. But. It's the but that I have not been able to elaborate on ... I'll try now. Bear with me...this is off the cuff:

Ok. I can't think of any cases wherein a foreign army has been able to successfully move in and 'fix' things in a country. The only successful 'fixes' come from within. Sometimes it takes a civil war but, if the people want change, change will come. It might take a while but it will come. If a foreign army comes in, there will be some people who will welcome it thinking that the change they were hoping for will come faster. There will be others, however, who will be against the change and will fight the foreign forces. The foreign forces will fight back. People will die. Occasionally, civilians will be caught in the crossfire. Eventually, one of these civilians will be a child. Ok. Some of those people who had welcomed the foreign army will begin to rethink their position and start to criticize the foreign army. The foreign army will start to think 'why the hell are we here?' Depending on how long they've been there and how much is invested it becomes increasingly difficult to extricate the foreign army from the position. If they stay, morale will drop, more people will die and support from home will drop. If they go, they will be leaving the country in a worse position than when they started and, chances are, the conservative anti change factions will be able to garner more support.

Let's see what would happen if the foreign army stayed away...would the Taliban lose control? Yup. Eventually. Will people die? Yes. But, the people fighting for change will know that they are fighting for their lives and the lives of their children. They aren't foreign collaborators. They are Afghani people fighting for a better future for themselves. But, there are those who welcome foreign intervention because they know that they aren't alone...the world is watching. This is a good thing but...only if the intervention works--works in a timely, not too costly fashion. When has this ever happened?

But, is the Canadian army over there to help the Afghani people? Really? Is that its primary purpose? Or, was this the safest perceived option for Canada to show the U.S. that it stood behind the American war on terror without actually having to stand behind the U.S.? The games some folks play eh? Although I believe that a military option is sometimes necessary, I do not believe that it needs to be used as much as it has been over the years. Although, come to think of it, could early troop intervention lessoned the carnage of Rwanda? Hmmm... but Africa is a different thing altogether isn't it.

The feeling that 'if we do nothing bad things will happen' persists. Does 'doing something' always need to involve guns? I guess so. When things like oil and American interests are in play anyway huh? I know I'm being unfair. I'm proud of the Canadian troops. They do good things, work hard and literally stick their necks out so that others can feel safer. Afghanistan, however, is a non starter. History shows over and over again that foreign invasion forces don't win there. Is there, perhaps another way to help?

I just figured out my son's dream! We are starting a garden and I told him that we needed to fertilize the soil with poop. Sometimes beautiful things come out of shit. I guess his dream could be seen as a warning that sometimes, beautiful intentions can turn into shit as well. Or, instead, to paraphrase Freud, sometimes a pile of poop is a pile of poop.

Bunny Poop

Happy Easter Weekend everyone. Yes, it's a Christian holiday but, has enough of the pagan in it that the Christian overtones seem to have been watered down somewhat. Perhaps that's the real effect of commercialism. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny have eroded the importance of Christ as an ultimate symbol of good. Mind, we all become complicit don't we. Those of us who partake in these rituals know that we are all Santa and the Bunny. We do our bit. We shop for gifts and chocolate. We give as good as we get. Wonder if that's what gives some of us a god complex? Yes, the evils of pride, ownership, greed and gluttony come out and are promoted by the corporations from which we make our purchases. Jesus himself was shown to have a meltdown in a church once when he saw traders and merchants making profits from faith. Seems we all have a bit of a problem with folks gaining profit from our best wishes. We see it as a bit on the evil side of things don't we? Yet, overall, despite our collective misgivings, stores continue to stock little foil wrapped chocolate eggs resembling bunny poop this time of year and little chocolate eggs get sold. And on Sunday morning when my kids search the house for the eggs that have been hidden the night before by my own incarnation of bunny spirit, I hope that they gain a bit of this idea...sometimes, the good that you are searching for is right here at home. And, maybe if we all concentrate a bit on being good? Our homes will get that much bigger.

Cry

Certain things make me angry. And incredibly sad. One of these things is when I hear/read/become aware of any type of child abuse. I sense my brain actually turn numb and a visceral reaction wells up inside of me. I've started to try to consciously channel this anger/sadness into energy...and send it out to somehow soothe the wounds of the stricken. Is this prayer? Otherwise, I feel so helpless. I don't want to do nothing. Neither do I want in any way to be a voyeur to someone else's pain. I turn away from the headlines. Not that I don't want to be aware that it's going on...it's that the one's who have suffered deserve respect. They are not a sideshow. I won't link to the article. Unfortunately, it's one of many. Justice is being done? Two more people have been accused and summarily convicted. Two people who held the title, in name only, of grandparents. But, a child with shining eyes and a gorgeous smile died 4 years ago. And I never met him. But I'm praying. Praying that he is in a good place. That he knows he is cherished. That human beings will get over themselves enough to know that we can't afford to be mean. We need each other. Each of us is precious. And when the laughter of a child is silenced, we are each of us, to blame.

Alternator Plans

For the first time in my life, I took the car and kids and drove towards Montreal. My brother lives in the outskirts and, although he bought a new house over a year ago, I had yet to set eyes on it. Normally, I am with J on any road trips. He likes driving. I like being a passenger. This particular morning, however, was different. J quit smoking. Well...this was his quit date. He had gone out after work the night before and, in a ritualistic manner incomprehensible to me, decided to say good bye to his vice by over doing it and indulging in excess. When I woke up in the morning, he was lying on the couch. Fetid fumes I once thought only existed in cartoons actually rose up from his non-Apollo like form. Staying home was not looking like a fun plan. I got the kids dressed. I packed up some pita bread and carrots. We jumped in the car and took off.

I haven't had much experience driving on heavy traffic highways. I've been doing more lately. Now that we live close to an on-ramp, it doesn't make much sense to avoid this route. It wasn't so bad. The kids travelled well. We made good time. Just as we arrived at my brother's exit, however, the check gauges light turned on on the dash. Hmmmm. This wasn't the first time this had happened so I wasn't too concerned. The last time it occured, I was informed by our mechanics that we should plan to bring the jeep in for a check up within a couple weeks but, not to worry too much unless the light started to flash.

Seeing my brother was nice. He's a bachelor. His house is a bachelor's house. Kids don't really fit in with the decor but, we managed the visit without anything getting broken. I decided that we would go out for lunch. Seemed safer. Driving to the restaurant, the gauge light would come on periodically and then go out again. It wasn't flashing tho' so we carried on. Driving away from the restaurant, I remembered that I had put the leftover pizza on top of the car. I stopped and had a look. No luck. I was seriously thinking of going back and looking for it. If I was with J, we would have. J's not known for pizza wasting. One look at my brother's face however was enough to dissuade me. We dropped him off and got on the highway again ready for home. A couple kilometers on the highway, I realized that we had left the kids hats in the restaurant. Oh well, I thought. No use going back.

As we were driving, I started to notice some disturbing things about the car. Was it my imagination or, were the windshield wipers disrupting the radio signal? I turned both off. Then, the dashboard lights began to fade. Oh crap. I had a sneaky feeling that if I stopped the car, it wouldn't start again. Ok. We were only 50km away from home. If I increased the speed, turned off all electrical extras and prayed, we should make it. I was beginning to feel a bit like Star Buck. Just then, my son, who was sitting directly behind me, began to choke. He and S had been munching on the carrots. Panic started to rise in me and then, just as quickly, the situation was somewhat resolved as A puked all over himself and the car seat. "I need a cloth!" he yelled. I told him that we were almost home and that I would clean him up then. He was a real trooper.

We managed to get into the city and, we were only had a couple exits left. We were going to make it! I turned off our exit and headed down the ramp. Oh No! There was a red light. No, it was ok, it just turned green. Thing is, the cars in front of us were slow to get started. I was forced to break just as I got down the ramp. The car then died. Kaput.

A couple of women stopped to ask us if we needed help. I met some more nice neighbours. One of them offered up her son's house in case it started raining. Very very nice. My son told her that he loved her. J came and we pushed the car to the curb and then walked home. I was a bit shaky buy, considering that we could have had the car die in the middle of the highway, we did quite well. I came back later and managed to get the car going enough to bring it home. I guess it had a bit of juice left in the battery after all.

Turns out it is the alternator. I hope that's it anyway. J is going out to buy one and hopefully will be able to swap it out this afternoon. At least, if J can stay a non smoker, we can afford break downs like this eh?

You Know? Really, I'm Just a Nerd

Yup. That's me. Just a nerd. I called a friend the other day...with really nothing to say. Just wanted to hear her voice. Been awhile. Wish she were closer. Was craving nachos and a beer. Spring has finally arrived weather wise. Time to get out more. Just feeling a bit lonely. sigh. This too shall pass.

I Earned Over $300 Yesterday. What the F*&K Did You Do?

Money Money Money Money.
It's a drug
It's a means to an end.
It makes the world go 'round.
It can make people mean.

Money is important. It tends to suck when money is short. I get that. It's also a good feeling to know that one can earn it. It's a nice feeling to be self-sufficient and not dependent so much upon hand outs. What scares me, however, is when money is used as an indicator of self-worth. The value prescribed to money sometimes seems to overshadow even what money can be used to obtain. Money can then be used as a weapon, even before a single cent is spent. So and so is a better person because they have more money. Really. What's up with that? I tend to value kindness, respect, being good and the like. Although I agree with a solid work ethic, it's really too bad that the most common, and most valued, reward from having one is money. And, if you work really hard and don't make a lot of money, more often than not, you are perceived to be a chump. The notion that some people work hard because they gain a sense of satisfaction from a job well done takes a back seat to what the base rate of pay is. Is it any wonder why there seems to be so much disillusionment creeping into our collective psyche? How about focusing less on how much money is coming in -- yes, I know, keeping in mind the minimums to pay bills for food and housing and the like -- and more about what is really valuable. Being a good person. Loving and being loved. These things don't cost very much monetarily. The value of these things though? To me? Priceless.

I'm Tired

Nothing profound. Except maybe that I'm profoundly tired? Really. The only thing that is keeping me from heading straight to bed right now is the perverse joy I gain from delayed gratification. And J is working late tonight so I get the entire bed to myself. Joy and Bliss! Today after dropping the kids off at daycare I went to the gym and did a double workout of cardio and weights. I then came home and spring cleaned the upstairs bathroom while doing a couple loads of laundry. I just finished with the toilet when I realized it was time to get dressed and go. My old grad advisor was doing a talk this afternoon and she had called the other day to inform me of it. I actually dressed up for the occasion--short skirt, black tights. Her talk was brilliant. The theme du jour was art vs? aesthetics. Moving away from using the privileged gaze, she discussed the idea of truth in terms of sound--music. Instead of abandoning truth, she argues that a new way of addressing it is required...apart from the truth vs. false dichotomy. The end result is part performance, part treatise, part entreaty, part discourse...I dig it. I do sense a bit of my own work ... I like to think that perhaps, when our brains met, something clicked for both of us. Thoughts like these keep me going as I sweep dust bunnies out from beneath my bed. It was nice to voyage back into the academic world for a bit. I actually had learned minds speak to me as an equal (I love crashing symposiums where I'm not really known by anybody so I'm often treated like a somebody...cuz you never really can tell who I am eh?) It also helps when you are greated warmly by one of the speakers/chair of the department. I've never really understood heirarchy. I mean, I get that it's necessary. I work in theatre. When the relationship between production staff and directors and stage managers becomes vague, all hell can break loose. Yet, these heirarchical distinctions only really apply when there is a show. After the show is over, the titles don't really mean much. The titles, as far as I can see it, are there to allow for the work to get done in a more efficient/smooth manner. Granted, I come at this as someone with a house gig. I don't have to work the room to ensure employment. Mind, I've never really felt the need to suck up for a job or opportunity even when I was basically unemployed (although I have sucked up for the pure unadulterated fun of it!). Is this privilege or luck? Probably a bit of both. But, enough of this. My duvet awaits!

Feeling a bit stiff

I whacked my head the other day. It was a pretty good fall. I returned from work around midnight, walked my mother-in-law to her car, reparked my car and, as I was walking back to the house, I slipped on a patch of ice. It has been very icy out back of late. So, I went ass over teakettle and the extent of my injuries are thus:
I slammed my tail bone in to the ice.
I whacked both of my wrists...causing stigmata type bleeding and some bruising as well.
I slammed the back of my head -- my glasses flew off about 4 feet
My head bounced up and I gave my self a mild? case of whiplash (the stiffness didn't appear until the end of the next day).
Overall, this was a pretty good fall. Right up there with the one that occured back in my cross country running days whereupon I slipped going down a hill, gashed open both knees, sprained one ankle, twisted the other ankle only to have my coach, who was running behind me, stomp on my right hand and kick me in the head with his cleats.

I'm much better now.

I've been thinking about my poor neglected guitar lately.

at the gym

Today was weight day. So, here's what I did:

Ball squat with shoulder press. Definition? Take a big ball and put it behind shoulders against wall. Go down to squat position while pressing weights up. First rep of 12 = 10lbs and the second rep of 12 = 12lbs.

Chest Press. Is how it sounds. First rep of 20 = 15lbs and the second rep of 15 = 20lbs.

Ball Crunches with straight arms. I lie on the big ball and then do crunches. Simple yet painful. First time I did 20, the second I did 25.

Reverse Lunges with Bicep Curl. I really really really loathe these. Yet. They are making my butt better than it's ever been. Each set 20 on each side. First set with 12lbs. Second with 15lbs.

Close Grip Low Row. A pulling machine. First rep of 20 = 70lbs. Second rep of 20 = 85lbs.

Inner Thighs. Yup. The sex machine. Always conveniently placed in front of a window. First rep of 15 = 110lbs. Second rep of 15 = 115lbs.

Outer Thighs. Same machine. Different angle. I like this one cuz I feel strong. First rep of 15 = 145lbs. Second rep of 15 = 155lbs.

Overhead Tricep Extension while sitting on the ball. First rep of 15 = 15lbs. Second rep of 20 = 20lbs.

After each set, I do crunches. After I'm done, I go home. Tonight, J has a 3am call. I have a 12 out of 12 scheduled for tomorrow. No gym for me. I'll have to do cardio and weights on Sunday. Funny how this is becoming slightly addictive.

Because there are people who want to know...Really!

A typical week day:

Alarm goes off at 6am. I kick J to get him to turn it off. If this is not successful, I look to see if one of the kidlings is in bed in order to get them to do it. If this does not work, I growl and get out of bed (the alarm is across the room...you can guess why) and press snooze. I stumble back to bed and push J out of the way (he always seems to steal my pillow during this time...sneaky bastard) and try to ignore the whining and mewling from the most annoying cats in the world. One drools and the other sounds like a rusty gutter pipe scraping against a tin roof. Finally, I get up, go downstairs and feed the beasts and put on coffee. I go back upstairs and very unceremoniously turn on the light in the kids' room and announce that they have 5 minutes to get dressed and get downstairs or I'll choose their outfits for the day! This is usually enough for my girl to leap out of bed and scream 'no mamma...I'll pick my own clothes!' The boy will squirm and flail his arms about and say things like 'go away I'm tired.' After a few more minutes of threatening and cajoling and, let's face it, playing, the kids and I are dressed and we go downstairs for breakfast.

Kids eat oatmeal or cereal. I wash left over dishes from night before and clean out stinky reeking cat box. I get the kids' lunches ready (hopefully I was aware enough the night before to make them in advance). Depending on what's in the fridge, the lunches range from gourmet feasts to siberian work camp fare. After breakfast, I send the kids back upstairs to brush their teeth. I follow them after downing a coffee and taking out some form of protein from the freezer for dinner. I then go upstairs in order to make sure the kids brush their teeth. I then send them downstairs to begin the chore of snowpants, boots and the like. Finally they are ready. I am ready. We get out the door (hopefully before 8am), get in the car and boot off to their school. After dropping them off, I race off to begin my 'work day.' Even writing it sounds funny.

I usually chat with my supervisor/friend (the best combo really) and see what's up ahead for the day. I take a break around 10am for coffee and a muffin and to read the daily free paper. After that I do what needs to be done until lunch. If it's busy, I'll skip lunch. If it's not too busy I'll walk down to the caf and grab some noodles or sushi.

The afternoon usually flies by and by quitting time (4:30 or 5) what was needed to get done has been done. What sorts of things you may ask? Well, things like getting technical info from clients about upcoming productions, making sure our stock inventory is up to date, making sure professors are able to work their gear, making sure gear works, fixing what I can, sending stuff out for repair when I can't, dealing with and keeping on top of silly new safety legislations, updating coming events info, booking staff for gigs...etc. etc. and so on. If there is an evening event, I stick around until it starts in order to make sure that all is running smooth.

I then get in the car and go pick up the kids from school and take them home. If J has been home, he usually takes care of dinner but, if he's been working, we'll throw something together when I get home. The kids get a snack and watch some t.v. until dinner is cooking then they start their homework. At this point I might throw in a load of laundry. After dinner, I get the dishes, J gets the table and the kids get upstairs for playtime/jammie time/teeth time.

After the dishes, I'll go the gym for an hour or so. When I get back, if the kids aren't in bed yet, we put them there. The laundry moves to the dryer. I sit with J for a while like a lump on the couch. We fold laundry when it's ready. I make the kids lunches for the next day. We watch t.v. I might do some computer stuff. I go upstairs, shower and go to bed.

All in all it's a pretty good life.

Sorry I Barfed on Your Shoes.

It really has been one of those weeks. Just this weekend saw a strike of one show Friday afternoon followed by a quick lx refocus for Saturday's performance that was struck for Sunday morning's church service which was struck out for a variety show. And we keep cramming them in! Get 'em in, get 'em on, get 'em out! My crew and I specialize in show biz triage. If a client requests more then time/money/crew size(related back to $$) can handle, we tweek it and shave it and get their product up and running. Lately, it's more of a perk or job bonus if the product happens to be of any quality. Our work is good but, it's hard to tweek bad vocal pitch from a sound console (although my crew has been asking for years for the completion of the almost mythical 'don't suck' button). This leads me to wonder where all the talent is? What happened to quality? Does anyone else miss it? I have, and will, bend over backwards for a client who possesses 'it.' Sure, some people are born with 'it' but, even so, they have to work 'it.' It's hard work to act well. It's hard work to tech well. I am getting increasingly disheartened by the amount of shit passing for drama that gets on our airwaves. Movies seem to be slapped together with no effort to keep up basic elements of continuity. Shots are made cuz they look 'cool' with little or no artistic merit...ie. they don't support the overlying meaning of the piece. Perhaps because there is no meaning in the first place? People are winning acting awards who, frankly, don't seem to have the slightest idea of what they are doing. I can actually hear the punctuation when they speak. Last week, I had the pleasure of working with a group of people who are increasingly frustrated with the level of tech support they are getting 'back home.' They love our space. We love them because they are talented, nice and are willing to work with us to get the best possible product on stage. The actors, I could hardly believe it, could actually act!! It was obvious that they took their craft seriously and worked hard at it. The designers actually designed. After they left the theatre it really was much harder to deal with the attitude of the semi-pro wannabes seemingly more concerned with image than product. Maybe that's the problem in a nut shell. Image has taken over once again (are we reliving the court age of Louis the sun king?) What happens when the veils are dropped? When the Emperor is revealed shivering in his nakedness? I know that there are people out there in academic land who are studying image critically with an eye to understanding its role in society as a constructing force. I've also read some stuff though that appears to accept image as reality. The line is blurring between so called reality and fiction. Perhaps because neither has any real meaning anymore. I heard an interview with Atwood the other week wherein she commented (perhaps more than a little tongue in cheek) that 'the non-fiction writers are accused of writing fiction and the fiction writers are accused of writing non-fiction.' Perhaps a value shift is needed. Move the money quotient away from value and strip away the false idols/images. Maybe what is left over will actually be worth hanging on to. We could look at it this way. Image is a good drunk. An amazing drunk wherein you become the smartest, sexiest most sought after person around. People around you agree because they too are three or four sheets to the wind. Take away the drunk and what's left? Your head is over a toilet bowl yakking out the poison. Everyone is gone. Everyone except for maybe that one person. That one person who stuck around to hold your hair out of the bowl. Holding your hair even though you barfed over their shoes.

Are You Too Busy to Read This?

The concepts of time and busyness have been taking up my mental space lately. Not all of my mental space mind you but, it's fair to say that a good chunk of it is in use. I am not a busy person. There. I said it. And...it's true. Really. I'm not. I do things. Quite a number of things really. I'm just not busy. You see, if I want to take the time to read a book, I do. If I want to take the time to make cookies I will. If I want to add to this blog, I will. I don't feel rushed. Nor do I feel run off my feet. I'm rarely late for things but, if I am, it's never really a big deal. I understand my responsibilities--to myself and those around me--and do my darnedest to see them through but, I also realize that I really can't control things. Things like kids who adamently don't want to put on their boots or, idiocyncracies of the weather. I am, however, beginning to feel a bit left out. Looking around me, I witness people rushing back and forth and, when they actually stop to converse (no time for a real conversation) the first words they utter are often along the lines of 'I'm just sooooo busy' or 'I am running out of time.' I guess we are all 'running out of time' but, some people just appear to be running a whole lot faster. This, to me, is strange. So, I wonder if being busy is seen as some form of status symbol? The busier one is, the higher up on the evolutionary ladder? Has the concept of busyness replaced honest to goodness work ethic? Could there be more than just an aural/visual link between the words business and busyness? Is there a corporate conspiracy taking place here? I see university students on a daily basis. For the past couple years I have noticed that they are increasingly 'busy.' Unfortunately, this 'busyness' has not really translated into productivity. I think back to my undergrad years. I had about 4 part-time jobs, a full course load with a decent average and yet, I seemed to have a lot of time for reading and playing pool. I don't really remember feeling all that busy then either. Perhaps, I am not really alone. Perhaps busyness is being used as an excuse. People aren't really all that busy. They would just prefer to be doing something else so they cite busyness as a reason for not doing something. That so and so didn't call back wasn't that they were too busy, it was, instead because they prefered to be doing something else at that time. Busyness might be used as an excuse to not offend or hurt someone's feelings. Concurrently, busyness might be used as a tool to foster a sense of greater importance: 'I'm too busy to be wasting my time standing in this line.' Perhaps a sense of martyrship might also explain this phenomenon: 'I'm extremely busy right now but, I'll do this thing that you ask even though it pains me to add to my already great burden.' Now, I understand that there are times when one's plate is full. There are times when there is a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. There are, however, always choices (ok...maybe not always but surely most times there are choices?). We can't do more than we can do. We can't be other than who we are. Maybe it's time for a bit more acceptance and a little less busyness.

Contrary to Popular Indications, Logic Does Have a Place in the World

I wonder, at times, at how easy it is for people to live seemlessly within contradiction. It isn't ironic. It's just plain baffling. I listen as some theatre managerial types bemoan the lack of audiences to a show when, as they say this, they are standing beside a pile of posters for the event that never made it to a wall or telephone pole. Why was the money spent on making the posters? Gloss and colour included? Because publicity is important damn it! Why weren't they put up? Well...surely that was someone else's job eh?

Another example? When other folks print out scale stage drawings and wonder when they aren't all that close to scale when their printers are set to automatically change the scale to fit.

There's more.

When crew who get a call wonder why I might insist that if I offer a rehearsal and performance shift they can't get away with doing only one part. It really is all or nothing. I don't mean to be mean.

When people spend a great deal of time, focus and energy to label and catalogue items so they end up in the right spot but don't bother to actually notice the room numbers to the doors of the places where the items are to be placed and then wonder why they can't locate anything.

This one is to my mom who called the other night wondering if, over Christmas, I had taken a cabbage. Do you know your daughter? Really. Of all the goodies to be had in the house, do you really think I would avail myself of a cabbage?

If one doesn't save money, there won't be money left over. For anything. The same goes for fruitloop necklaces. If you eat all your fruitloops off the necklace, don't expect your brother to freely hand over his. And no. He really shouldn't automatically share.

Quick and Easy

Take chicken pieces (thighs, legs, breasts...whatever) and put in a cassarole dish. Mix together some fish sauce, lemon grass and thai chili paste. Pour over chicken. Shave over top about a half a brick of creamed coconut. Put on lid. Put in oven at 350 for about an hour to hour 1/2 stirring about half way through. Enjoy over rice with veggies.

I should have taken the quick and easy route today. Cables and their myriad connectors/adapters will see the death of me or, at the very least, see the synapses of my brain finally overload. Finally figured it out though...with a whole lot fewer adapters then I first planned for. I'm replacing video lines from a stage camera to dressing room monitors. The camera and monitors are now colour. A good thing.

Fixing up the coming events page for the theatre. Along with the usual variety show gak we are getting A Midsummer Night's Dream, Romeo & Juliet, Grease and Hamlet. Kinda beginning to sound a bit like Shaw eh?
Ahhh Shawks! (sorry...near to the end of a work day and couldn't resist).

I won a coat. I actually entered a 'come to this website and click here to win' and saw that one of the contests featured coats. 'I could use a coat,' said I. And Voila! A genuine Canada-Goose 3/4 length parka is being sent my way. Seeing as my present winter coat is actually a fleece with an outside shell and the zipper is broken, this news really couldn't come at a better time. I think, however, that I have become so accustomed to my shoddy winter attire that I might find myself sweating profusely before this winter ends. There are worse things I suppose.

I'm really not in the mood to be defending my Dominion at the moment. Does that make me a traitor? The very thought of building ports and adding more ships to a delicate environment makes me kinda ill. But, I guess if we are all so hellbent on melting the ice cap we may as well suffer our slings and arrows of outrageous fortune all around. Any wonder why I like theatre? Just wish more stories were actually entertaining.

Soul Food

I made an amazing pork dinner yesterday. First, I fried up chopped onion in butter. When the onion was soft, I added porkchops (having already dusted them with flour and breadcrumbs). I fried these on both sides and added salt and pepper. After the porkchops were brown, I put them one at a time into a cassarole dish (with a lid) and layered them with sliced apples (keep the peels -- I used Royal Gala, a personal favourite). I then got a cup of apple juice to which I added some corn starch, lemon grass and dijon mustard. I poured this mixture over the pork and put the dish in the oven for about 1 hr at 350 deg. Very tender. Very yummy. This was eaten over a rice/noodle/peas combination. Enjoy.

I also made fresh hummous...a quick and easy lunch favourite for the kids.

J made fresh bread on the weekend. Best bread I've ever tasted.

Kids and I made banana spice muffins. Next Saturday we'll make chocolate chip cookies.

It's nice when being in the kitchen is just that...being in the kitchen. No sense of obligation. No sense of role playing. Just a time to be together and enjoy each others' company. Real soul food.

There's No Business Like It!

Heard something the other day...'it's only theatre. Don't take it personally.' I like this a lot. More people should use this as a mantra. Tonight is yet another openning night. Weird how a student production can have so little student involvement. But wait. There has been some student action. Students acting as scapegoats. Now, there are very few things that I detest more than bullies. As one who has been both bullied and a bully in the past, I see that bullies create for themselves a false sense of power/control that, in the end, makes them even more miserable than before they begin bullying in the first place. Putting it bluntly...bullies suck. In particular, I really really detest those bullies who pick on another person's ignorance. Nope. We don't know it all. Sometimes, we need to be taught. When I see so-called seasoned professionals (ok...I'm really using the term professional loosely now...how 'bout amateurs never good enough to become professionals who have subsequently glorified and built up their status as under appreciated volunteers. Know the type?) pick on those just starting out in this thing we call 'the biz' it pisses me off to no end. Hell. Not everyone knows what grommiters are and what the working load of 1/8" tie line is. Nor does everyone know all the pre-planning that must be done before a show can go up. If we continue to sneer at those who don't know, we're not helping the arts cause. People will walk away feeling bad about themselves and begin looking for:
a) others to bully; and
b) ways to slash arts funding.
Before the arts community looks out and starts blaming conservative agendas or liberal corruption, perhaps it should take a close look at itself. Is it inclusive? Does it treat ignorance as a learning opportunity? If not, maybe it needs a massive overhaul itself. The ground hog says spring will be early this year. How 'bout some spring cleaning? Let's throw out the elitist attitudes, false feelings of self-importance, and back stabbing tendencies. Let's be upfront and aware and accepting of our and others limitations and strengths. It's not life or death people. It's show business. It's only theatre. Don't take it personally.

A Birthday Message

It's my little brother's birthday today. I hope he is having a good day. I'm not entirely sure where he is. I know the town but nothing more really. He decided to take a break from family. Makes a lot of sense to me. I've done that in the past...not for so long but, I wasn't home enough in the first place. I close my eyes and see him wandering off with his friend as they discuss how to make a movie (they are in grade 3 in this image) and I also see him reenacting for me the second Star Wars Movie in the back yard...so well that when I finally got to see it, I felt that I was watching a re run. We played legos together. He would push me in the wagon (his turn would be next....I promise!) around the yard...swerving deftly around trees and avoiding the garden. He's a nice person. A bit odd. Slightly melodramatic. Views Marvin the paranoid robot as, perhaps, too much of a role model. He got me my first Leonard Cohen tape. He made me a chain mail garter. He has always been unapologetically himself. He has his demons but, they haven't bested him yet. He used to write me poetry written on donut shop napkins. He would bike over vodka to me when I was at a friend's house. He would carry our beer into the underages clubs. My friend S and I drove him to the hospital when he broke his elbow. He didn't cry much. I cast him in his first ever theatrical role. He never seemed to grow out of the adolescent gronk stage. Inside his brain, a genius lurks. When I went to university, I left him behind. I dream of him sometimes. Sometimes they are nightmares and I wake up afraid...for him. But, lately when I think of him I feel that he is ok. I miss him. I love him. and just want to wish him a happy birthday.

This ain't a list for Santa Claus

Seriously,
Why should I spend my valuable time making lists of things to do for a person who should damn well know by now what needs to be done. Does it really take a rocket scientist to see that:
1) if there is dust on stuff, it should be wiped off;
2) if there are dishes in the sink, they should be washed;
3) if there are dishes dried on the rack, they should be put away;
4) if there is crud on the floor, it should be swept up or wiped up;
5) if the kids' rooms are too messy, they should be cleaned up (sometimes they need a hand);
6) if there are full laundry bags, laundry should be done (this includes washing, drying, folding and putting away);
7) supper is eaten every day...plan for it!!
8) if food gets eaten, we may need more...check and make a list
9) if stuff is broken, try to fix it;
10) if the cat box has crap or piss in it, it should be cleaned out.

This is but a start. I couldn't help myself. It looks something like a list. Does holding one's breath and turning blue help?

Baby Steps

Ok. When I was pregnant I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. Does anyone their first time around? But, throughout and after the process of growing the kids inside of me and then expelling them, I have come to question certain societal mores that are, for some reason, not questioned enough. I "found out" about my pregnancy by the age old method of peeing on a stick. Well, I kind of had an idea before the stick but, waiting for the stick to show its lines provided me with enough time to chain smoke a half pack of cigarettes. I was determined to smoke until I could no longer enjoy a drag without feeing officially guilty for harming my unborn child. So, J and I looked at the stick and said 'yippee' we're having a baby. We left it like that for a couple weeks. (and yes...I did enjoy the occasional drag...but my body soon told me to stop...it wasn't guilt...just plain 'ol nausea).

Approximately two weeks later my leg started getting sore. It was the wrong kind of sore. Many years before, I had a blood clot in my leg. This felt remarkably similar. I called J away from work to drive me to emerg. This was on a Friday evening. Well, after waiting for 4 hours (I also puked a couple times while waiting), I was brought behind a curtain to be informed that they had no way to be sure I had a clot but such and such specialist said that just in case, I needed to have a needle. Ok, I said. Then I was told to lift my shirt. "In my belly?" I asked? Yup. In my belly. "But, I'm pregnant!" I was then told that I didn't have official proof of my condition...you see, I had merely pee'd on a stick...I hadn't been diagnosed by a doctor and, besides "we have to treat the mommy before the baby!" I felt sick and sicker as the needle was jammed into the flesh under my belly button. I really don't mean to gross anyone out but, I think it's an interesting tale to tell. So, I was given a slip of paper to have an ultra sound done to my leg the next day.

Hospitals on the weekend are dark and dreary places. J and I walked down the long and dimly lit corridor to where the ultrasounds took place. A young student did the test. The pain in my leg was in my calf. He checked my thigh. I told him where the pain was. He told me that it wasn't statistically relevant. He didn't find any clots. I was told to return on Monday for a retest 'just in case.' My leg still hurt but I was getting tired of this. Nevertheless, I returned on Monday. After the test I was told to take my results upstairs right away. I was also told not to walk. Seems I had 5 separate clots and one had moved above my knee. Ok. Fine. I went upstairs and became a part of a study for pregnant people with clots. I would have to give myself injections in my belly throughout my pregnancy--once or twice a day--and, when my belly got too big for the shots, I would have to put the needles in my thighs. One last thing, however. They needed proof that I was pregnant. My word and the stick didn't work. Upstairs I went to get another ultrasound. It was here that J and I found out that we were expecting twins. I was then told that I couldn't have a midwife and that I was considered a high-risk pregnancy and would need to come in for regular exams and such under the supervision of specialists.

I won't go into too much detail now but, some of the things I discovered are:
1) ultrasounds don't seem all that useful. measurements were taken each time to determine whether or not the babies were growing alright but...to me, my belly kind of gave that away. I wasn't too interested in knowing the sex of my children...besides...I already knew (in a different way) that I was carrying a boy and a girl. Ask J, he'll tell you that I'm telling the truth. I think ultrasounds are more for statistics and parents peace of mind then for any real medically sound reason.
2) ultrasounds tended to add to stress. the babies in my belly didn't like to be prodded and let me know. I didn't really need to know that one of them had a slower heart rate that then switched to the other one the next time around....things like that kinda freaked me out.
3) nurses like to make sure you have your vitamins...which I didn't take cuz they made my stomach upset. I just ate the foods that I wanted...that seemed to do the trick...and then lied to the nurses so I wouldn't be made to feel guilty
4) J and I avoided tests for such things as downes and the like. We didn't want to know because seriously, there wasn't anything that we would do anyway.
4.5) Student docs like to perform even more unnecessary tests to fill their roster of 'things I can do now!'
5) Weight gain and loss seemed to become the business of other people but, I was still able to function and carry on normally. I felt good. That's what counted. 168lbs baby!!
6) Daily injections suck. They really do.
7) I understand that seeing the docs was preventative but, really, looking back, I know I would have been fine and perhaps less stressed, if I had seen less of them.
7.5) Scheduling inductions and c-sections for the sake of following a schedule is fucked.
8) When push comes to shove in delivery, if your doc is off, your doc is off. There will be someone else there to deliver the kid. I don't know the name of the woman who delivered mine. It really didn't matter at that point who was down there.
8.5) The machine that is strapped to you once an hour to check on your contractions is stupid...J would be watching the machine to let me know when I was having a contraction and I would then say 'no shit sherlock' from between grit teeth.
9) It's not a great idea to puke on a nurse...she may deny you water.
9.5) Smuggling in coffee is easier if your partner is an addict as well.
10) Nurses will wake you and your children up so that you can feed on a schedule...geeesh...and try and make you feel bad for wanting to sleep.
11) It's only at home where I could begin to feel comfortable with my new family...away from poking and prodding.

There are things I wish I had said and did differently. I went in not knowing and was unprepared. Not so much with the pregnancy. That all came together. I was unprepared with how systemized the process of child birth had become. Poking and prodding and testing were the norm. At times, I felt more like a cyborg than a human being. I don't understand why things are like this. I hope that people will begin to rebel against this. Challenge this new 'norm' and realize that it is their body--their choice. Don't let a system make you question what you know is true...for you.

We Are All Responsible

It takes a village. Yup. We've all heard it. Some actually believe it. I'm one of those believers. Even though, at times, it seemingly would make more sense to hole oneself up against the onslaught of narrow mindedness, self-absorption, arrogance and ineptitude on a multitude of levels that pervade our existences, it does take a village. Put another way, it takes all kinds. And, as it takes all kinds, one's responsibility increases. We become responsible for each other. We must look out for one another. We must accept one another regardless -- let's face it, we all have flaws eh? We really ought to stop nit picking and looking for reasons to discriminate and sigh a collective sigh of 'ok then...such and such is happening...what can be done? who is available to do something? can I do anything to help? ' and then we should just roll up our collective sleaves and get on with it. No person is an island. Each choice we make has consequences...ripples...like ice cream. I have faith that all will be sorted out. I'll accept some people's choice to disregard faith and put it in a storage box filled with other 'I can't believe people used to believe that!' non-sense. I hope to not be so arrogant as to decide that people's beliefs can be so callously discredited but, to those that do this, remember that you don't exist outside of the village. No matter how you may try. One also has to try to not allow the actions or non-actions of others to cause one disappointment. It's unfair to put so much weight on the actions of another. The only one you have control over is yourself. We have free will. We make choices. We have to live with them within the context of each other. I am trying to teach my children to enjoy the gifts that each day brings...not to dwell on perceived slights or what hasn't worked out as planned. I think they get it. More readily then I. But, I've made my choice. I voted yesterday. And, I'll live with the consequences. And add my support to the creation of a more tolerant and accepting world.

Are your ears burning?

As I was driving into work this frigid morning, a 'news' item came on the radio that disturbed me. Apparently, a woman in Sweden had a spider living in her ear. It had crawled up (supposedly while she slept) and spun its web. She experienced a slight hearing loss and then began to hear a scratching sound. She went to the drugstore and got some stuff to flush out her ears. When she did this, the spider and its web came tumbling out. The spider, unharmed, walked off non-plussed. My ears feel funny now.

A History of Smoking (Part IV)

I just realized that I have been an official non-smoker for over a year. The anniversary, however, passed me by without notice. I realize that I am jumping ahead in my telling of this smoking tale. But, aren't stories that fall out of sequence more interesting? More thought-provoking? Instead of a series of events -- typical block buster mind fodder -- a tale that is interwoven on various levels, slipping, like smoke itself, between cracks of understanding works, for me at least, to provide a more satisfying literary meal. Ok. I agree. Enough. So, as I was saying, I have been a non-smoker for over a year. My clothes smell better. I have more money in my pocket. I can climb stairs without wheezing. I can sleep through an entire night without waking up mid-chest crunching hack. My boogers are no longer black. I can spend more time with my children playing games without having to duck out for a quick puff. All in all, a pretty good deal. Side effects? Yes. A few. My husband who has not yet quit must deal with my inability to kiss him after coming in from a quick smoke. My nose stuffs up horribly if he comes to bed without showering first. I get cravings and mood swings if I am around smoke for any period of time. These, however, are a relatively small price to pay. I feel better and am surprised that I can go so long without even thinking about cigarettes when there was a time when I would go into a cold sweat if I knew I only had 2 left in my pack. Geesh. I'll leave the actual process of quitting for another post. Gotta leave a trailer eh? Suffice it to say that I am celebrating a belated happy new life as a non smoker day. When I get home, I'll toast it proper with a shot of another potential addiction.

Mundane Thoughts On The Way To Work

1) Damn, looks like I'm going to be late;
2) What's S singing? Sounds like Green Day
3) Yup, it is Green Day -- 'Wake Me Up Before September Ends' -- that's my girl
4) I won't be too late
5) Traffic is better than I thought.
6) I have a meeting today at 10? or is it 10:30?
7) Wonder if A is awake yet. Hope he's feeling better
8) Weird how he puked and then fell asleep immediately...falling into it. J and I made a good 'change the pukey kid' team
9) Hope the highway is good for my mom and d. Talk about the highway. A Northern thing. It was nice to see them. And short visits are good
10) Will the tiles be finished in the office? Maybe I could set up C's office for him. He's sick today too.
11) Ok. S has been dropped off. They'll make A a card at daycare today. Cute
12) Lots of NDP signs in this neighbourhood. To be expected. The conservatives scare me. But...they too will pass. Like bad gas.
13) Women in BC are donating breast milk to the underprivileged. I really don't know how I feel about this. Seems wrong to me on some level. And icky.
14) Ok buddy. If you are such a rush then pass me.
15) Nice. You passed me in order to stop. See? It wasn't my fault that the traffic is slow. grrrrr
16) Inner peace...inner peace...inner peace.
17) Hmmmm....wonder if he'd like to drag?
18) I see the university in the horizen
19) S wants to fly with Santa Claus
20) Feel kinda bad for the Russian team...the goal was good. They still got smoked however.
21) Hey...not late. The parking around here is stupid.
22) I have to open up this morning. First class is at 8:30am. Who the hell would book a class for 8:30am on a Friday morning? Who would go? I'd skip. Geeeesh. Just watch though...when I get there, there will be about 100 kids in the lobby eager to rush the theatre for a seat. AT 8:00AM!!! I don't think I was ever early for a class ever. Not to sit in it anyway. What about a smoke? What about a coffee? A quick chat? Students these days are weird.
23) I should delay openning until 8:25am...get me a coffee first. Weird how something like that sounds subversive.

Calm After/Before the Storm?

The flood waters have abated and I feel strangely at peace. The holiday was a good one. Funny how leaving town for even a short period of time makes the actual time off seem longer. Well, it did for me at any rate. It is also very nice to be back home. Even sitting at my desk feels better. I needed the break. Now I have to work on keeping this sense of serenity...of calm. My work area was left relatively unscathed by the flooding. My boss needs to get his office redone. And the hallway tiles all need to be replaced. Things will look and feel cleaner and more fresh however. I feel that my faux pas has only expedited the necessary. J is now a union man. Life is carrying on as it should. Until the next bomb drops.