Dinner Conversation

Am, at present, waiting for dinner to arrive. It was a long work day and Lebanese delivery should hit the spot. Speakers work and sound great. Found myself in the position of holding up a 6 000 lb genie lift for a bit. Yikes. Audio patch is working (never wasn't...turns out to be a staffing problem rather than gear). I got the order ready for the local theatre company. Many pipes. A few lights. No biggie. I put a cross and stained glass gobo on the back cyc and have two church like windows crossed as back light. This is all in honour of tomorrow's gospel variety show. My arms and legs arms are feeling stiff. A good stiff.

Dinner's here!

Dinner's done. Done like dinner. Yum. I love falafel. I feel like I've just bathed in garlic. J ordered enough to feed us for the entire weekend. Our family will be stinky but happily full.

J will be climbing tonight. Kinda funny/sad but he was stood up today. He had planned on going ice climbing today. His climbing partner was to rent the gear last night and pick him up at 7am this morning. That fact that a huge winter storm was set to hit us today did not factor into his plans. His buddy 'has a big truck,' said J. Neither did it register for J that his buddy hadn't called to confirm anything. 'He'll be there,' said J. I tried to prepare him but I love his faith. Well, turns out that his buddy had an after dinner nap last night and didn't rent the gear. Ended up emailing J and cancelling (J read the email at 5am this morning...having been up since 3 out of excitement and getting packed). I woke to a grumpy J (not completely unheard of in our household). He'll go bouldering tonight. Not even close to being as satisfying but will have to do.

The blizzard ended up hitting us big time. Lot's of snow. Rough going for awhile but it's beautiful now. Fresh.

Now it's time to have a cappaccino and sit back and read. Yes, I'm spoiled.

Incandescent Lightbulb Moon

So the committee in charge of voting on whether or not a 4% budgetary increase should be alloted to daycares voted yes. Hurrah. It's not a lot but, it is damned necessary. But lo. The actual city council finally drafted it's final budget. Nowhere in the document is this 4% increase to be found. It was agreed upon. But has now disappeared. Poof. Nice to know that our elected officials are on the ball.

I chaired my first meeting as president of the daycare the other day. I did well enough I suppose. Kept order. Kept to a schedule. Ended 1/2 earlier than planned. Less babbling. More deciding. More home time for all. I count that as a success.

Have finally signed the necessary papers to transfer the kidlings to a new school (one actually in our neighbourhood) for September. It's actually one of the top public schools in the city and up in the high percentile for the province. I'm a bit squeamish about the 'uppityness' of the neighbourhood. For those that know me, one of the gentry I isn't. It was a hard choice for me but, I decided to not let my anti snobbishness make me a reverse snob. The school is closer. Chances are the kidlings will now have friends close enough for visits. And hey. It has a chess club and choir. It does mean that J and I will need to juggle our work schedules around some in order to work around the school hours (no more daycare for us!) I think it will work out for the best though. Here's hoping. Weird that I'm thinking about September already...

'Romeo & Juliet' was a success. Now on to a few and sundry variety shows until the next show 'What the Butler Saw' by Orten roles in on Sunday. Tomorrow will be busy. The crossover in our stage left speakers needs replacing, gels need sorting, patch point at the audio console need checking and, if need be, fixin'. I have some new toys that I need to check out to make sure they work as well as some focus notes to work on. On top of that, I have a line check with the camera dudes who are recording Saturday's gospel variety night. I'm looking forward to it. I really don't work well at a desk for any length of time. I need ladders.

I also need books. I am currently relishing a book called 'Snow' by Orhan Pamuk (Nobel winning book). I picked it on a whim cuz it was a Turkish author and the title was Snow. No other reason really. It's wonderful. Thick. Multi-layered and satisfying. I'm also reading 'Bloodletting & Miraculous Cures' by Vincent Lam (this years Giller Prize winner). The difference between the 2 styles is telling. While Pamuk is thick and meaty, Lam's work is relatively lightweight. Lam's characters are somewhat 2 dimensional. Yes they are driven but the incidents in their lives that drive them are obvious. Kind of 'oh ya...that's why she's like that' as if any person can be defined by a single 'oh ya.' I'm enjoying Lam's book. It's just lighter. Quicker. With Pamuk I find myself rereading passages. Learning more about the characters and the world they inhabit with each pass. I guess that's why Pamuk is beside my bed while Lam is relegated to the toilet (not to be confused with shampoo bottle instructions).

I mentioned my love for the novel 'Snow' and its evident 'European-ness' to my boss. He's an English Lit grad and a good person with whom to prattle away the dull hours. He believes that the biggest problem with American lit is its inability to move beyond the notion of the failed 'American Dream.' All characters are situated within the parameters of and in relation to this dream and therefore are never really complete. Hmmm. I guess some Canadian works suffer from this intellectual solipsism...viewing characters in relation to an American counterpart (imagined or real). Canadian drama tends to suffer from unnecessary second acts. Playwrites don't seem to know when enough is enough. They state a case. Then they second guess it. Insecurity? But what they are trying to say is then hammered over and over again so that the viewers end up holding their heads and saying 'I get it! Make it stop. I get it!' Reminds me of an essay I once wrote about the treatment of Japanese Canadians during World War II. It began with various statements regarding the sun.

Australia has banned incandescent lightbulbs. California wants to follow suit. I've been humming Bob's Your Uncle this past week.

I Have Almonds

Way back when when I played guitar on a more regular basis, the group I studied/played with at university embarked on a small tour of Eastern and Northern Ontario. We were billeted along the way. At one of our destinations, the only other woman (I can't remember her name. I can only vaguely remember her profile and the look of her hands as she played) and I were dropped off at a very gingerbread looking cottage. It was quite lovely. Inside, we were taken up to our room complete with huge duvet covered bed and private shower. The woman who lived there told us that she tried to support the arts and young artists whenever possible. This room was done up specifically for those on tour.

When we awoke the next morning, we stepped outside of the room and found 2 steaming and freshly foamed cappuccinos along with a plate of fresh almonds. A note indicated that we were to enjoy this feast and that our benefactor had been, unfortunately, called away. The iron was in the closet if we wished to use it and would we mind locking the door as we left.

When the fellas came to pick us up, they looked a bit worse for wear. The had been billeted en mass at a house where their sleeping accommodations consisted of sleeping bags on the basement floor. We two girls looked at each other and smiled. Of course we mentioned how well we had been pampered. We rubbed it in. Our bed. Our shower. Fluffy towels. Good conversation. Ironed clothes. Cappuccino. And, Almonds.

To me, the highlight was the almonds. I felt, to a certain extent, that I had achieved another level. A glimpse into a world previously unknown to me. Future possibilities.

This morning, I'm having a cappuccino and enjoying a handful of almonds. It's bringing back memories of that tour. Of playing guitar. Of discovering new likes and dislikes. Of growing up.

Another Day, Another Anniversary

10 years ago today, I met the fella that I would eventually marry. It was my first shift at a new job and as I walked down the hallway to the office, I saw him squatting at the end as if to say ‘Here I am.’ His hair was draped over his eyes like a curtain and when he looked up at me, the curtain falling away, I began to stammer stuff about how I hated wearing boots because they made my feet itch. The first sparks of romance.

Throughout that first shift, I was backstage and he was in the lighting booth, we bantered and flirted (shamelessly on my part) over the head set. Already well practiced in the art of the sarcastic comeback, I recall firing back some statements that made first him and then our supervisor take off the headsets. Our supervisor, in the booth with J, turned to him and said “What a BITCH. She’ll fit in here just fine.”

At that time, I was a smoker and when the first break occurred, J and I went outside to indulge our habits. The wee lass who was also on the shift and was also flirting with J, not shamelessly, more pitifully, wasn’t a smoker. Too bad, so sad. Anyway, J and I began to talk and it turned out that one of my close friends used to date his sister. I saw J’s face close down as the mental calculations were being made. “That would make you…27?” he asked. “yup, how old are you?” “23.” I could feel the disappointment crashing around him. The funny thing was that I had very recently turned down the advances of a guy who too was 23 citing that I was not prepared to play the role of Mrs. Robinson. One may surmise that the BITCH moniker is well earned. I do have my moments.

After the shift, J asked me if I’d like a ride home. Once in his car, he asked where I lived. I exclaimed that he should take me out for beer instead. That said, with the sultry tones of the Violent Femmes blaring through the speakers, we took off. The car, according to J, was ‘shared’ between his mother and himself. We drove around from bank machine to bank machine. Finally, we stopped at a pub where J asked me to wait at the door as he had to talk to some folks. He went up to a booth and, during the ensuing conversation, complete with some heads popping up and turning to look at me and a few thumbs up, one of the fellas handed J a $20. J returned to me saying that the pitcher would be on him.

We talked. And talked. When the pitcher was finished, we went to my apartment and talked some more. At that time, my apartment was filled with my brother’s things. He had taken a trip around the world and I was left ‘babysitting’ his bookshelves, lined with bound classics and medical texts and a fantastic stereo system. I had Boddington’s Ale in the fridge and vodka in the freezer. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that I didn’t have much else in there but the odd condiment, but, to J, that meant that I spent most of my time eating out. He thought I was wealthy and he had met up with a potential ‘sugar mama.’ This illusion would last one evening at least.

That first night we talked until close to dawn. I remember asking J a question that made him cry. I remember singing songs and reading poetry by candle light. I remember feeling that he suited the stuff in the apartment that was mine. I remember wondering where, if anywhere, this would lead. That first night, we didn’t kiss. We hugged at one point which felt most strange by its not feeling strange at all. J went home and asked if we could meet up the next night after his shift. He would call me at 7pm.

The next night, at 7pm, J called. We went out. Two weeks later, he moved in. Two and a half years after that we got married. Our twins were born two years after that.

It’s hard to believe that we have known each other for 10 years. There have been great times and horrible times and all manner of times in between. Such is Life. Today could go either way. Like most days. J still hides behind curtains. I’m still a BITCH. Somehow, we muddle through.

Catching Up. Visually

Here is A. He was told to wait patiently while his daddy and I talked afterwhich his daddy would take him to Home Depot. After a bit of grown-up talking, we looked up and saw A sitting like this. Quiet. Sincere. Just waiting. Nearly broke my heart.

These are the wee ones on their first day of senior kindergarten. No, the flower isn't coming out of his head. It was our attempt at growing giant sunflowers. Turns out that they don't grow all that large without a lot of sun. And water. Who'd a thunk it?





This is the first day of Ukrainian Dance class.

This is my Girl!

Jungle Gym

Daddy's Girl

Here's S with her hat which came all the way from Nepal on the shoulders of a crazed woman.

Halloween. The moon and a star.

Dude

She Loves the Snow Too!


Today We are 5!

So this has been my life for the past few months. My real life. Whenever I start to wonder where the creativity is going in the world, and whether or not their is hope for the future, I am heartened by these two folk who honour me daily by sharing their secrets, showing me their treasures, telling me stories, making me pieces of art and, most of all, by allowing me to be their mom.

Where the Log Roller Learned to Step Lightly

Recently finished Richard's 'The Friends of Meager Fortune.' At times, cheeky and self referential. Also, a poignant description of a lost way of life. The Shanty Boys. The original Teamsters. Lumber barons. Log Rollers. Men who literally danced upon the water. The mythology surrounding these men fascinates me. Songs first heard on ships and then passed on to the forests with a few phrase changes speak of heroic deeds against impossible odds. The work was hard but much less romantic.

I see a similar mentality in the technical theatre world. Groups of guys and gals working in the trenches in order to help create something larger then themselves for which they will be given little if any credit. So they create a mythology for themselves. Riggers pit against audiophiles and electricians all looking down at the lowly box pusher. These folks are the last? of the independents. Working when called to complete the impossible in record time then off to the next gig. Freelancers. Bosses are short term. Loyalty is important...for as long as the run. Many a beer is drunk while stories over 20years old are told as if they happened yesterday to/about people well-known. The oral tradition continues.

Although new technologies are moving in on theatres world wide, there are those who hold on to the old ways-craft- much like the characters Richard's describes. Unions too are becoming more common. The Teamsters are cited as being partially to blame for the end of the lumber industry as it was once known. Are technical unions doing the same to theatre? Is it inevitable? Where will this type of industry be found once more?

My thoughts are scattered. I'm going to have to think about this some more. And sing me some shanty boy songs!

Getting Older

My children are now 5 years old! I'm amazed. They are wonderful, outspoken, intelligent, kind, a bit weird and fascinating people who challenge and are challenged by the world each day. It's a true pleasure to be a part of their world and I am humbled by the realization that they are an integral part of my life.

I am now back to work after a wonderful holiday. Work is slow. This suits me fine. It'll soon turn the corner and be crazy busy again.

I have a pain in my neck. Just before Christmas I slept funny (S had a nightmare and came to snuggle). The kink progressed until I couldn't really move it without painful effort. I finally called for a physio appointment. They can see me tomorrow. My neck is also finally starting to feel better. It's still rather stiff and a bit sore though so I'd like to make sure that I didn't damage it in anyway. Screw plastic surgery! Age spots and wrinkles don't suck. Sore joints do!!

On the kids' birthday I realized something. Not only do I have my own birthdays to help keep track of my ticking mortality clock. I have these two gaffers as well. Their birthdays seem to come around more often then mine as well. Funny how life works sometimes.

Time to sit back and whinge about my neck (same thing as taking time to smell the roses you know...)

Merry Christmas to All

Hello and Warm Greetings. Today is Christmas Eve. Our family celebrates Christmas on this day--it's a Finn thing. In a couple of hours, I'll get started on the turkey and cassaroles do a final clean up of the house and fill the candy and nut dishes. Santa is scheduled to arrive some time this afternoon (although Santa sent an early package from Hong Kong that was specially delivered to our door yesterday--cool).

When J's mom first witnessed how we celebrated she thought it a bit cruel. You see, Santa comes in the afternoon and the kids get to see the presents and overfilled stockings. The kids are then told that they have to wait until after dinner before they can open a single thing. Dinner always takes a long time to arrive. 'Mom....it's taking forever!' Tortuous anticipation.

The family (the regular home dwellers + gramma) then sit and eat and eat and eat. When I was a kid, my dad would insist on eating seconds and then thirds. After dinner, he would excuse himself to the washroom and we would be forced to wait. Inwardly we'd groan when we noticed him leave with a magazine. Now, J does the honours. He doesn't go to the loo...but he will eat a huge amount of food. Then I'll say something like 'maybe we should just do the dishes now and get it over with ' to a chorus of 'noooooooooo's.' I love tradition.

Gifts are opened one at a time so that everyone can see what has been received and appreciate the gift. This also extends the evening. Cookies and coffee come next. Then the wee ones are packed into bed.

The next morning, the kids are left to play and the grown ups sleep in until noon.

Very civilized.

I love it.

Fa La La La La

I sometimes wish I had better stories to tell. Then I chastise myself because the stories are all around. My arse is just too lazy to put them down and out there. Cheers to all the lazy arses out there! I am humbled to be numbered among them.

It's warm outside. Too warm. Yet, not warm enough to dampen my Christmas spirit. I'm filled with Ho Ho this year. Our tree is up. Real of course. I can't have Christmas without one. It only knocked over once. Our male cat was going through one of his feral moments and spooked himself (he really is a putz). J was out and I picked it up and proceeded to try to restraighten it from below at the stand. After about 20 minutes I realized that I was having no luck, the tree stand sucked and I couldn't move from beneath the tree without it falling again. The wee ones thought that my predicament was funny. Ha Ha. I called for #1 son to get me the phone. He did after much cajoling, threatening, pleading and the like. Then the girl asked for some milk. "I'm kinda busy sweetie." "But I want some now!" "Suck it up princess, Mommy is stuck under this tree and if you don't want her to pull a scrooge you'll get your own milk." "But I can't reach the cups...Can I have a candy instead?" Sigh. J tried to hide his amusement on the phone -- ok...he didn't really. He laughed out loud and told me he'd get home soon. Soon came, and I was rescued with no other damage then a slightly stiff chest and a mildly bruised ego.

I love real Christmas trees.

I've also baked this year. The final list is:

2 batches of Swedish jam cookies
1 batch of Snickerdoodles (a cookie with a stupid name but a great taste)
1 batch of oatmeal macaroons
1 batch of creamcheese, mini marshmallow, chocolate balls
1 batch of rosebud cookies (basically a peanut butter cookie with a hershey's kiss in the centre)
1 tray of pineapple squares
1 batch of pecan shortbread cookies
1 lemon pound cake
1 Finnish spice cake

Yup. Sometimes I am superwoman! J finally finished the bookshelves that enable me to finally unpack the rest of my books. I finished them a bit in the basement (sand, light varnish, polish with rotton stone). I love finishing wood. Sometimes, I think I could give up the rest of my career type stuff and spend my life finishing furniture. I'm also pretty sure that I'd go nuts after a short while but, it's fun to have an alternate life plan.

I went shopping with J today. My favourite part? Walking up and down the street poking around in shops that are doing their best to lure in pedestrian traffic (at one place, we got tea!). Didn't buy a lot but found some meaningful gifts (hope so anyway!).

Least favourite part? going to the toystore in one of this city's many malls and breathing in the frenzy of greed. I have recently watched a program that showed some pirhanas going after a fish. I was reminded of those nasty fish when I watched as folks, smelling fear I guess, swarmed the poor sods working the aisles as they searched for this year's 'must haves.'

We left relatively unscathed with some books and some hotwheels. Some things never go out of style. Our girl has requested from Santa a Barbie this year. I'm torn. I hope I can find the least offensive type out there. But, then again, compared to the Bratz whores, Barbie is pretty tame.

Tomorrow should be a good day. J and I are going to wander through the market. I haven't been there in a very long time. Years? Maybe. I'm looking forward to the walk. To see what's changed and what's stayed the same. Kinda like looking at myself through a mirror made up of memories and the here and now.

Green Alligators

I've been thinking about the Irish Rovers recently. Thank you G. Specifically, The Unicorn Song.

The lyrics were written by children's author Shel Silverstein and the song was made famous by the Irish Rovers. I remember their television show with fondness. Am I dating myself?

I was unable to get a clip of them singing the song but, found a version sung by Brobdingnagian Bards. They altered the ending in order to make it 'happier.'

I'm not in favour of the Disneyfication of children's stories. The Little Mermaid is supposed to turn into sea foam. The Little Match Girl dies. Wendy grows up and Puff the Magic Dragon disappears into his cave.

If the endings are all happy, what tools are we giving our children to handle any sadness or trauma? What about the terrible beauty that exists in life? The joyous ache of the bittersweet?

Here is a copy of the lyrics as I love and remember them. If you want the 'happy' ending, listen here.

A long time ago, when the Earth was green

There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen

They'd run around free while the Earth was being born

And the loveliest of all was the unicorn

There was green alligators and long-necked geese

Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees

Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born

The loveliest of all was the unicorn

The Lord seen some sinning and it gave Him pain
And He says, "Stand back, I'm going to make it rain"
He says, "Hey Noah, I'll tell you what to do
Build me a floating zoo, and take some of those...

Green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget My unicorns

Old Noah was there to answer the call
He finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall
He marched the animals two by two
And he called out as they came through Hey Lord,

I've got green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just can't find no unicorns"

And Noah looked out through the driving rain
Them unicorns were hiding, playing silly games
Kicking and splashing while the rain was falling
Oh, them silly unicorns

There was green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Noah cried, "Close the door because the rain is falling
And we just can't wait for no unicorns"

The ark started moving, it drifted with the tide
The unicorns looked up from the rocks and they cried
And the waters came down and sort of floated them away
That's why you never see unicorns to this very day

You'll see green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorns

Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam

My email inbox has been inundated of late with spam. I know. I'm not the only one. I have been luckier than most I guess.

My penis enlargement, breast enhancement, please send money to me so that I can escape Nigerian exile and in return I'll give to you a veritable fortune spam emails have been few and far between.

I even have been so bold as to scoff and mock those less fortunate than I. They, thought I, must not know how to properly block these unwanted nuisances. Although I have had no clue as to how to perform such 'blocks' I believed, nonetheless, that what I was doing was right and what they were doing was obviously wrong.

Until recently that is. Now, my email gets a healthy dose of spam. Between 10 and 20 messages everyday. Each message is thematically linked. Each with a seemingly nasty intent. To question my sense of well being.

What is the message?

Lose Weight Now. Use herbs, drugs and surgery to get rid of all those unwanted pounds. If that fails, try acupuncture or hypnotism. There seem to be more ways to lose unwanted poundage than there are to put them on. That I am receiving these messages at a time when I actually feel pretty good about myself -- I have lost approximately 25 lbs this past year through, go figure, eating a healthy diet and partaking in exercise -- the timing of this particular flood of spam is oddly ironic. I don't know why I have been suddenly blessed with these messages obsessed with my weight and welfare. Perhaps I should say thank you?

What would McLuhan say?

Village People

There is snow on the ground and there are fresh chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. December came in with a storm. A little icy for my liking but, the temperature dropped and the snow came so I won't complain.

The kids had 'playdates' yesterday. A 4 year old boy with his 8 year old sister came over for 3 1/2 hours. We made cookies, did art, started a band and they made a fort, railway station and played cars upstairs. No casualties and only a couple tears shed. A success.

I chaired the annual AGM for the kids' daycare the other day. A bit nerve wracking since I have never done this before and I was asked to do this the night before. It went well. I'll be on the board next year as well. I hope to do my bit and try to get more support for not for profit day care centres. It really does take a village to raise children. We are all responsible and should begin taking our responsibilities seriously. Our new mayor was quoted saying that it wasn't his problem that people have children and don't know what to do with them. Looks like there will be a lot of work needed to be done.

Today is dance class for the kids. They have fun. I enjoy having a mandatory coffee break while they are dancing. Funny how it only takes a few weeks for a tradition to be created. I am a fan of tradition. 'Fiddler on the Roof' is a favourite of mine. It's set in a village.

A Christmas Wish List

It's just a regular workday.

This is not November weather. This sucks. It's rainy. It's mild. The world around me seems mouldy. Yuck. My son races to the window every morning looking to see if he can wear snowpants yet. No such luck.

End of November. Today's high is set to be 10C. Tomorrow, it's going to shoot for 16C.

I want cold air to freeze my nose hairs together. I want my eyelashes to feel moist as they freeze and thaw with every breath I take. I want wind burn on my cheeks and a slight numbness in my finger tips.

I want to shovel snow. Really. I do.

I want to watch as my kids make snow angels. I want to once again decide whether or not this will be the year I learn to skate.

I want to have an excuse to wear my swanky new down filled coat.

I want winter. In all it's glory. I'm a Northern Ontario girl. I'm not from the west coast. I want snow.

I want to feel all snuggly warm when I get into bed and have the tip of my nose cold to touch. I want hot cocoa and homemade slippers.

I want to sit on the couch and watch the flakes dancing in the wind outside of my living room window.

I want to see the cats snoring away as they lie atop the floor rads.

I want to wear colourful scarves and mits and hats. I want to spin around outside and catch snowflakes on my tongue.

I want my kids to know winter as I have known it. And to love it just as much.

Child's Play

Imagine if you will my two kids at play. The boy is holding a batman figurine. The girl is holding a female figurine that has a transparent body. I'm sure she is a character. I just don't know what her name is. The dialogue is as follows:

Batman: You can hit me as hard as you can but when I turn grey, I can't feel anything.

Transparent Girl: But when I hug you, you can feel my love.

Batman: I turn grey and fight the bad guys. Hieeeee ya!

Transparent Girl: My body can turn invisible and you can go right through me. Be right inside me.

Batman: I'm going to go with spiderman and get some bad guys.

Transparent Girl joined by Red Headed Troll Girl: Go Batman! Go Spiderman!

Spiderman: My webs aren't very sticky.

Red Headed Troll Girl: You can make them stickier. I know you can.

Spiderman: Yes I can!!

My son: Why are you laughing mommy?

Why indeed?

The Sky is Falling

I've been having the strangest craving for brie, cranberry and pine nut sandwiches lately.

Funny.

I've also been overcome with ... it's hard to explain really ... well, on the other hand, it's simplistically easy ... I've been overcome with beauty. In the sense put forward by Keats...truth being beauty and vice versa. I was driving along when I noticed the sky and how beautiful it was. Grey clouds perfectly spaced. A bird flying into just the right spot. Then I noticed the busyness of the traffic around me and how it too was beautiful and how it contrasted with the seeming stillness of the sky. Then the sky moved ... clouds raced, wind blew the trees and the busyness around me seemed to trade places with the heavens above and I was left with a stillness inside. Peace.

Then the radio began to play a U2 track and I began to think about Bono and how celebrities are gaining influence in our world. I wondered. If I knew that someone was listening, what would I say?

Reality check. We have a new mayor. A 'good ol' boy.' It was one of those elections that left me with a visceral reaction...nausea. It's hard not to feel that I'm on the wrong side of the fence. I think it might hurt more because I made a conscious decision to be less passive. That it didn't make a difference this time won't make me change back. I don't like certain trends I'm witnessing. I heard today that people with landed immigrant status who in years past were allowed to vote in municipal elections were pulled on mass off of this year's voters lists with no warning. People showed up to vote and were turned away.

The school board is looking, once again, at instituting full day alternate day kindergarten in order to save money from school buses...never mind the wee kids having to be in school all day. Never mind the parents who will have to look for alternate day child care. Never mind that the smaller child care centres will be forced to close leaving the parents with even fewer choices. Never mind.

I'm looking forward to seeing blue sky.

Happy Halloween

Just got back from trick or treating. It's great fun. It's too close to call the difference in enjoyment between now and when I was wee. Watching my little star and moon race up to the doors and get into the spirit of all things spooky makes me want to both laugh and cry. The ache in my chest is still here. How did I get so lucky? The costumes were a success. I'm quite proud. They got many comments tonight on how good they looked. One part creativity, one part access to a costume cellar, one part plain ol' stubborness and voila. The kids totally raked in the goods this year too. It's totally a chocolate year! The houses in my neighbourhood are gorgeous. I love being able to step close enough to peek. Most of the homes are even more grand on the inside. Polished hardwood and stone everywhere complimented by well placed and chosen bric a brac. Wonder when I'll be grown up enough to be able to move into a house like that? Maybe one day. But for now, I like where I'm at. Time to make an attempt to bring the star and moon down a bit from their sugar/excitement high. I think that before I do that, I'll join them a bit. Chocolate anyone?

All the Time in the World (well...at least an extra hour anyway)

November can be felt early this year. The leaves have been pretty much all blown off the trees. The skies are more grey than blue. The wind has developed a razor's edge. Today is the return of standard time. Traditionally, this has been my favourite day of the year. A part of me feels that I have slipped the wool over someone's eyes. Somehow gotten away with something. I have an extra hour! I can spend the day controlling time! I usually don't change any clocks today either. I like to look at the time and think 'oh...it's such and such a time' followed immediately with 'it's an hour earlier! yay!' This was a particularly good tactic when I had assignments/essays due. I would revel in the luxury of the extra hour. It still makes me giddy. Yes. I'm a wild child. I know that the time change makes the world seem darker. Nevertheless, I love this season. It is unpredictable. In a state of constant motion. Change. That it is dark when I leave in the morning and return home in the evening just seems to make the at home time cozier. Despite the wildness of outside, our home is safe. Warm. Halloween is in 2 days. The boy wants to be a twinkle little star. The girl wants to be a moon. I've made a date to go into the basement and have some fun with cardboard, glitter and spray glue. I recently heard a statistic stating that only 5% of costumes are home made anymore. I like coming up with costumes. I'm not very crafty and my ideas don't ever turn out the way they exist in my mind but, the costumes work and, it's important for the kids to put their imaginations into it eh? J has been very busy with work lately. All money in the bank. (I kinda wish that this saying were actually more true...in fact it should read more like 'it's all money in the pit we call personal debt-- oh well). My work place has been hopping. On Friday was my first day off in 16 days. I'm off today as well. I feel thoroughly spoiled. What will I do today? This day of days? This 25 hour day? Same as any other Sunday I guess. Just more of the same.

Take Me Down

It is a strange world indeed. I'm off to work tomorrow. Thank the gods. I like time off. I do, however, go a bit stir crazy. My closets are clean. My drawers are in order. Most of the dust bunnies have retreated. I've killed a multitude of spiders. No guilt...I have bites from the night. It's raining yet again. Connection? I spoke with an old friend. Funny how history rewrites itself. What happened is not what actually happened. Even though I was there...I should know...I was unaware of what was really going on. Hmmm. But, says I, I was not wrong! My memory is still good. Isn't it? Maybe not. Maybe I should just accept the new reality that states that what happened really doesn't matter. All that matters is what people:

1) perceive as having had happened, and;
2) want to have happened.

These become what happened. No wonder sociology is on the rise and the historian is taking an academic back seat. Could I be any more vague? Possibly? Doubtful.

I was in the car with J today. Driving in the rain. I was thinking about Leonard Cohen. I saw a documentary recently about the woman who inspired his song 'Suzanne.' She's living in a truck in California now. A 'free spirit.' It was a sad documentary. Her meeting with Cohen was brief. Her attachment to him continues today. He left her behind. Down by the river. She spoke of a time when they met up many years after their first meeting. He said 'thanks for the song.' I wonder if she let the river answer?

Books and Birds

Happy Thanksgiving!! Mine was very nice. I worked Saturday and Sunday (the Sunday show wasn't as bad as I thought...they never really are...) and I made the bird and fixins' yesterday. J's mom and her border came as well as my brother D. The kids were brilliant. The bird was fantastic. Today I'm going through drawers and closets getting caught up on odds and sods. I'll be back at work on Thursday...'there's no business like show business.'

Speaking of shows...J took me to see a performance of 'The Wrong Son' ... I really really enjoyed it. Based in film noire format and performed as a musical...complete with full jazz band (fantastic musicians)...with the dialogue done in jazz recitative. Trap doors raised and lowered revealing and hiding people and things. It's been a long time since I have seen a show this good. Strong voices...strong writing...strong acting...strong tech...I only wish I could have seen it more than once. The bittersweet joy of live theatre.

The other day I told J that I was craving a book...actually I told him that I was jonesin' for one. He got up and took off to the bookstore and picked up 'The River of the Broken Hearted' ... J said that it was no big deal...he'd go and get me a burger if I had a craving...why not a book? Who says that romance is dead. I just might have fallen in love all over again.

Rainy Day Meandering

It's a rainy day. I have the morning off. As soon as the load of laundry in the basement is dry and has been put away I will head off to work. It was nice to be able to sleep in this morning. J called me a little after 10am to wake me up. Actually, he called to say that he was in the basement picking up a tool for a job he's working on and didn't want to freak me out if I happened to wake up and hear strange noises. It's good that he did this. Have I ever mentioned my over active imagination before? I hope the rain doesn't knock down all the leaves. It's supposed to be sunny for the rest of the weak. I love autumn and this year seems even more vibrant than ever before. Perhaps because I am really in the mood for fall. I have always liked this season. I feel more alive. As vibrant as the leaves. Last weekend, J travelled to my home town in order to pick up a saw from my dad. The kids and I went to the experimental farm (very very cool!), had lunch at a wood burning pizza joint and then saw a live butterfly exhibit at the university. It was a very good weekend overall. J ended up talking with my dad and getting loaded until around 2:30am! I'm glad that they finally got a chance to swap stories. Good for the both of them. Next weekend is Thanksgiving. For the first time in my grown up memory, we will be celebrating/eating on the Monday and not the Sunday. I am booked to work on both Saturday and Sunday. My bitterness about this is dissipating. Unfortunately, it's not a show that I'm too fond of. Ah well. That's life. My brother D will be coming on the Monday. I'm looking forward to it as are the kidlings. I also plan on taking Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off. Maybe I could race off to Montreal on the Tuesday for a visit. We'll see. To those of you I love who are too far away...big hugs and lots of love!!! If you are in the neighbourhood, drop by. There are always leftovers!

My Girl

The other day I was driving home after having had picked up the kids from school. The girl began to tell me about her day and said that their class had talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up. She was confused about something. 'No one said that they wanted to be a dad when they grew up,' she said and continued, 'and I was the only one who wanted to be a mom.' Huh. My girl wants babies and to be a mom. Might I also add here that she is one of the smartest/wisest people I have had the pleasure to meet. Her observations never cease to challenge and amaze me. She went on to say that she also wants to work on films and make films for children to watch. Very cool. She then began to badger her brother and try to convince him that he should want to be a dad. The boy wasn't easily convinced. He too wanted to work on films but as a zoom boom operater. When told that his dad drives a zoom boom on occasion he demured and said that yes, he wanted to be a dad...as long as he could still drive cool stuff. Ok. I'm not entirely sure where the girl's decision to be a mom has come from. J and I have each told the kidlings that our most important jobs are that of parents...but I feel that something else is at play here. She sees being a mom as something valuable...special even. Huh. Well, it is. Her views are just different from my experience. I never ever felt that I wanted to be a mom when I was younger. Hell, the whole mom thing came to me, I guess, as an inevitability...one thing flowing to the other...much like leaving home to go to university. It was never a decision per se. It was something that I just did. Hmmm...when I actually explore this a bit further, I've never really wanted to 'be' anything. I am what I am. (sorry popeye) There are a few things that I'd like to 'do' but my deeds aren't really who I am. But, would I be going on like this if the girl had said she wanted to be a doctor? I doubt it. Last year, she had told me that she wanted to be a doctor when she got older. I asked her about that old world view. She replied...'on no mummy. I would need a lot of training and you know? some of that training would be very gross...looking into people's stomachs...ewwwwwww.' That's my girl.

It coulda been another type of story

The other night I received a strange phone call. A woman with a thick Eastern European accent spoke to me about a survey that I might have done and a prize worth over $100 that I could receive and was my husband home? J was 'out.' I was pissed off at him at that particular second and was waiting for him to get home so I could tear a strip off him for getting me pissed off in the first place. So I told the woman, very sweetly I might add, that 'no, my husband was not home but would be home very shortly.' 'Good,' the woman responded. Someone will come by to my door and give me a prize, after I had had a chance to look at, and comment on, a product they were going to show me. The only caveat was that my husband needed to be home. I hung up the phone and wondered what exactly had I agreed to. I called J and told him to hurry home because a stranger was coming to our door and he needed to be there. Now, J is not a stupid man. Knowing full well that I was pissed and knowing full well that he had a full pint in front of him and knowing full well that I wanted him home, to his credit, he didn't think I was lying. He told me that he was on his way. You see, in J's particular state, he believed that our house was being cased by burglars and that if he didn't get home quickly, something quite terrible might happen. My hero. Unfortunately, he passed on his concerns to me and, with my imagination, I began to believe that something quite terrible not only might happen, its occurence was unavoidable. I could feel my pulse begin to race.

I should take a brief moment to explain my heightened paranoia. I have always had a wicked imagination. When I first started working at the theatre, one of my shifts was an evening look after the office and answer phones type thing. I was bored so I began to snoop. Openning the bottom drawer of one filing cabinet revealed a chain saw ... covered in a red gooey partially dried substance. Blood!!! I freaked. I phoned J (whom I had met only 2 weeks before) and told him about my grisly find. Using a tone that hid his amusement very well (our relationship was young and he didn't want to blow it) he informed me that chainsaw oil was red. I was embarrassed. I told my boss the next day who got a kick out of my thinking him to be some warped killer. Especially when he reminded me that it was an electric chainsaw and he could only kill folks who stayed withing range of the ac cable. Before you get any ideas...I'm not dumb....just imaginative ok?

Back to the phone call. J made it home and, although a bit pie eyed, was ready to face any would be intruder. For a bit, I forgot about the phone call completely as I remembered, once again, why I was pissed off at him. I started getting into my beratement. Then there came a soft knock on our front door. I pushed J to the door to open it. I stepped back around the corner. The open door revealed a young man carrying a large box. 'Are you expecting me?' he asked. 'Come in out of the rain,' said J. Yes. It was also a dark and rainy night. The fellow then proceeded to empty the contents of the box and put together a vacuum. Well, not a vacuum cuz 'the technology is so different that we aren't allowed, by law, to call it a vacuum.' Sigh. It was our first ever door to door vacuum cleaner salesman!!! We called the kids down to watch. A jumped immediately into the box and proceeded to ask a thousand and one questions. S looked and quickly got bored. She's started reading and nothing will hold her attention for long unless it has a lot of letters. The fellow did a good job of trying to sell the machine. I had him clean the couch and our front room curtains. I also asked him to do the floor by the cat box...I had to see how well this machine picked up kitty litter. Suffice it to say, we did not buy this amazing machine. Even at its discounted price of $2100.00 (although, at one point, J actually asked the fellow to step outside so we could discuss it...this is probably why the woman who called said that the husband should be home...J has little will power when it comes to machines with space station plastic parts). J and I received coupons redeemable for 2 weekends away at a hotel. It might be legit. I might not. I don't mind though. I got my living room cleaned and J was home before 3am. All's well that ends well.

Fact or Fiction?

I've been reading a lot lately. Fiction. Stories. My mother isn't a fan of fiction. I remember my entry into the adult world of reading via the public library. My mother brought me through Dr. Seuss, the Freddy the Pig detective series and the Black Stallion books. After these, it was time for biographies and real life historical novels. I read about American slavery, the Canadian fur trade and the concentration camps of World War II. To my mom, the real stories were more relevant than fiction. They could teach one more about the world. My mom could draw. She can draw. Very well. Although she is blind as a sightless cat when her glasses are off, she can transform the blur she sees while looking at a pile of dirty laundry into a tigress nursing it's babe. She doesn't explore her art though. Well, that's not entirely true. She can reorganize furniture and plants so a plain room is made into a designer's dream. Growing up I remember my room being rearranged at least twice a month. Her landscaping abilities are incredible as well. Her art is used as a utility. It's a tool. She likes things to be pretty. Done. Real. I am drawn to mess. Rebellion? My cupboards and drawers are in a constant limbo between order and chaos. I want things to be neat but I get satisfaction when things are in disarray. Dust bunnies are allowed under my beds. I don't wash walls and ceilings twice a year (once every 2 if I'm lucky). I like curling up and tuning out the world around me as I read. Other worlds. Fictional worlds. Worlds that really do teach one about real life. And art.

Picking Berries

Home again. Good trip. Met a fox as I was walking to the toilets at 3am--I'm not a fan of tenting when my bladder is weak. It backed up and let me pass. Licked itself as I walked by. Somewhat telling in an I'm not sure how way. So J and I watched 'Crash' last night. Not the Canadian sex flick but this year's esteemed Oscar winner. Good film. Loved it. Dragged a wee bit at the end as story lines were tied up in neat bows but overall, I thought it quite powerful. Not only as a discussion of race but of gender as well. Although not the primary focus of the film, I found it very interesting to see how the roles held by women in this film illustrated how intolerance affects them in manners unique to them. Assumptions and stereotypes abounded in this film and it did a good job of illustrating just how complicated issues surrounding individual power dynamics are. It was also disturbing in that the film effectively held up a mirror to the viewers. We are all complicent to some extent. Shamefully, I can look back only to last week. Driving home, I was on the look out for blueberries being sold by the road. I love wild blueberries. I began to get impatient with J. He kept driving by various road side stands seemingly oblivious. When I mentioned it, he stopped at the very next car he saw. I got out of the car and noticed an east Indian gentleman with 2 baskets for sale. I was grumpy at J for stopping at the very next car...not seeming to care where we stopped...to me, finding the right blueberry stand is an art. But, that's not really an excuse for me not buying this man's berries. I made an immediate assumption based on no fact that this man didn't pick them fresh himself....that he didn't need the money...that he wasn't a part of the 'blueberry culture.' The best berries are picked in the morning. I also like to buy berries from people who, I feel, do this every year to supplement their incomes. This man wasn't dressed for picking. He didn't 'look the part.' After I thought all this, I noticed that his berries didn't look all that good anyway. I told him no, got in the car and grumped to J to keep driving. My grumpiness compounded by my not wanting to face up to my own behaviour. I hadn't liked the look of this man's berries but, I felt that I would have said no to these berries regardless. We ended up getting berries at the next stop (lucky for us cuz it was the last stand on the highway). I'd like to say that the berries were bitter sweet but, they were amazing. As blueberries should be. Fresh picked and perfect. I feel that I got the right berries. I just don't like the fact that I brought up other issues into not choosing the first berries...when all I had to think was 'no, these berries don't look good enough.' Sometimes looking in the mirror is a difficult thing to do.

Been Awhile Will Be Awhile Again

As of 4pm today, I am on vacation. We're leaving for the North land. Looking forward to bears and mosquitos, swimming in lakes, wood burning and electric saunas. All good. Away from all news sources will be nice too. Except I'll miss The Daily Show. I have a serious crush on Jon Stewart. He frames world disasters in such a way that I can only grin sardonically with the occasional blurted gaffaw as piece by piece we're shown that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. That's all I am really in the mood to write at the moment. Catch y'all later.

2 Thought Trails Taking Up Space In My Head

Through a peculiar set of circumstances, I have ended up watching 3 Tom Cruise movies practically back to back. War of the Worlds, Mission Impossible III, and, The Last Samarai. How could I do it? I played a game of 'good actor/bad actor' while watching them...shouting out 'bad acting' whenever Cruise was centred on the screen and juxtaposed it with yelling 'good acting' when it was someone like Seymour Hoffman. War of the Worlds wasn't a great story to begin with. HG Wells ran outta ideas and killed the aliens off with small pox. On screen, it was even more pointless. The third of the impossible missions? Ok. Diverting but...c'mon....the ending really blew chunks (yes, I have to revert to grade school mentality). Finally, The Last Samarai... despite Cruise, I wanted to enjoy this film. But, alas, just another end of an age, technology is evil, the old ways cannot survive morality tale that attempted depth via flashbacks (I have expected a flashforward to an atom bomb explosion to reinforce the point just that wee bit more that wasn't obtained by the subtle use of the figurative sledge hammer but I guess having the white guy show the emperor the error of his ways was good enough). Blech.

My daughter has a favourite stuffed toy. It is a green and white platipus named Larry. I asked her the other day whether Larry was a boy or a girl. You see, sometimes, she refers to it as a 'she' and other times it is a 'he.'
She looked at me and said, in that overly patient tone denoting that she was speaking to someone just a wee bit slow, that: 'Larry is not a boy and Larry is not a girl. Larry is just Larry.'
Now, my daughter understands the boy/girl dichotomy pretty well. She feels (at times quiet strongly) that somethings are girl things and others are boy things (in part to separate some of her belongings from those of her brother). What really impresses me, however, is that the greyish area of 'other' does not present any difficulty to her. Larry can be just Larry. Larry can be referred to by either 'she' or 'he' and, it doesn't really matter which it is. The need to have Larry defined within a box is not necessary. It doesn't matter what Larry is as long as Larry is Larry. She loves Larry. Larry is her friend. That's that. If only we could all be that accepting.

Happy Canada Day!!

Family. Sunshine. Breezes. Ice Cream. Beer. Barbecue. Good day over all. Hope yours was as well.

Tough as ...

Yup. I'm tough. Went to the dentist today. He was running late. I didn't mind. There was a 3 week old 'People' magazine on the table. What more could I ask for? Photos of skinny closet pukers dressed in shiny material strips arm in arm with significant others plastered beside pictures of bitter ex's. Real life baby. Well, after 1/2 hour, I was finally let in. The dentist looked at the offending tooth and said, 'Well, it's really a small hole. Do you want to forgo the freezing?' I was a bit unnerved but, said 'yes' in my best non-chalent manner. Well, suffice it to say, I survived. I was outta there 10 minutes after I sat down on the chair. The dentist was back on schedule. As I said before. I'm tough. I'm badass. I don't need no stinking freezing. Bring it on I say. Yup. Bring it on. I'll take it.

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!