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.