Life and other interesting stuff...

Y'all 'r not from 'round here, are ya?

2010-05-02T14:25:00.004-04:00

Arriving in the Gulfport/Biloxi International Airport to a smooth-as-silk landing, I was a relieved camper. The weather reports for the area were not promising and the skies were unfriendly but our crew managed to stick a perfect landing... Always a good thing to have an equal number of landings as take-offs, many pilots have told me. It was still overcast and drizzling when we arrived but that could not dampen our spirits and they were lifted even further as we listened to the melodic drawl of everyone around us.

I love a southern accent. It makes me want to swoosh around in a big crinoline talking about iced tea and charming men. Anyway, we gathered our luggage, collected our rental car (the little red wagon as we affectionately referred to it) and then noticed something that gave us pause at the moment and another memorable moment in the adventure later on... There was no plate on the little red wagon, only a card that said Tag Applied For. Hmmm... What do you suppose that means? Now a more cautious person (or wiser, perhaps) would have marched back into the rental office and asked what it meant and if it would cause any problems down the road.

Not us. We were tired, we were anxious to get to our condo and we were throwing caution to the wind on this trip (in a very conservative way though, I have to say... we're not Thelma and Louis here).

We started the drive from Gulfport (the actual location of the Gulfport/Biloxi International Airport), through Biloxi, Ocean Springs to finally arrive in Gautier Mississippi. As far as I can tell, Gautier Mississippi is famous for its location on the Pascagoula River (or the Singing River as the locals call it, from either the sound the bees make on late summer evenings or the calls of the extinct Pascagoula Tribe Indians, depending on who you believe). It is a small town, population of about 18,000 and it immediately reminded me of the small town I grew up in, Woodstock Ontario. Why, you might ask, did we decide to stay in Gautier? Dave is a member of a travel club where you can rent condos anywhere in the world... This was the close to New Orleans but still centrally located on the Gulf and we thought, a great home base for the adventure. We were right on that one.

We finally pulled into our home-away-from-home at about eight at night, after stopping off at the local grocery store to grab the essentials.

US Travel Trip #2

Southern grocery stores have all manner of deep fried or pickled products

Back home, I do my best to follow the advice of dietary experts and "shop the outside isles of the grocery store... fresh produce, fresh dairy and fresh meats/seafood." I do venture down the forbidden middle isles of course, that's where all the cleaning products, sugar, flour, cereal, crackers & piddly stuff like that can be found after all. But I do try to keep it to the outside.

At the local Gautier grocery store, there was a produce section, about one third the size of what I'm used to back home but it was there. There was okra. I don't know what okra is or how to cook it but it was neat to find it.

I didn't buy the okra.

As we strolled the outside isles, the rest of the selection was fully processed, packaged and chemical-injected selections of meat and cheese. We did find some burgers and chicken and that was ok because we weren't planning on cooking at home all that much.

We decided to pass on the pickled pigs feet, pickled eggs, pickled ham hocks and "cracklin" which is delectably described on the label as "pig fat with attached skin." Mmmm.

Often, instead of a full meal I like to just nibble on cheese, crackers, maybe a nice chickpea dip and veggies. It's light and fills the void and can be pulled together in a matter of moments which at the end of a busy, long day is a blessing. I know it's probably not great when it comes to the nutritional value or fancy-shmancy departments, but I never claimed to be an epicurean... I just want to be one some day.

So, off we strolled to the "deli" department in search of some brie. I could find none in the refrigerated case amongst the pickled everything-under-the-sun, macaroni salad, potato salad and fried chicken so I decided to ask the young gal behind the counter. "Brie? Wha's that?" she responded. I explained as best I could (I always love the challenge of describing something you are completely familiar with to someone who has never heard of or seen it... it's not as easy as it seems at first thought and it's always a fun exchange).

"Um... no, I don't think we have any of that here. Where y'all from? You're not from 'round here are y'all?" I told her we were visiting from near Toronto Canada and her response was simple.

"Why?" I explained as much as I could of our unplanned trip and why we were in "these parts" and she smiled and said "I knew y'all wasn't from 'round here... y'all 'r dressed way too nice. Are y'all headin' to a special dinner or somethin'?"

We chatted for a while and I left feeling like I had made my first southern friend. She was sweet and charming and in her last year of high school and had no idea of how wonderful she was. These were traits that proved to be pretty common amongst the people we were lucky to meet along our journey (well, except the high school part).

Mark Twain was right.... Southerners really do speak music.

The adventure begins...

2010-05-01T18:25:00.004-04:00

Early on a Friday morning (well, not that early, I'm used to getting up at 6-ish after all) two excited travelers gathered their bags from their "right across from the airport" hotel room and began the adventure they had planned and not planned, scheduled and left open to chance. We had decided to do lots but leave lots of flexibility to jump on opportunity, take chance out for a ride if the moment presented itself.

Without a doubt, we had solid on the agenda visiting New Orleans Heritage & Jazz Festival (or JazzFest as just about everyone we ever talked to called it), treasure hunting for a vintage Cadillac convertible and enjoying all that Southern cuisine has to offer. Less certain but certainly on the "would like to-do list" was exploring the Gulf Coast countryside, visiting some of the historic sites in the area and maybe, if chance works out and the stars are aligned, drive that newly acquired Cadillac convertible to the Kentucky Derby on the way home.

Well, since I am writing this as I watch the Run for the Roses from my home office, the Caddy/Derby dream did not materialize but I can't say I have an ounce of regret, disappointment or melancholy.

It was an amazing trip, largely for one reason. The people of our host states rose up to the legend of Southern Hospitality in a way that exceeded our expectations and gave me much to think about in regards to facing challenges with grace, kindness, hope and faith.

In stark contrast, as we headed down to the main lobby of our over-night host hotel in lovely Buffalo NY (hey, I'm trying), we were faced with a woman spending half her time chastising her active but sweet-as-they-come little boy and the other half filling and re-filling her plate with the slim pickings this "complimentary breakfast buffet" had to offer (and trust me, it wasn't much). There wasn't enough bad hotel coffee to make this experience palatable in any way at all. As we collectively departed the lobby to board the van to shuttle us off to the airport, she manage to completely knock the lad right off his feet (which flew up over his head as he fell) with the van door as she swung it open to get in. I wanted to scoop him up and tell him that he wasn't invisible or unwanted or bad or trouble or anything less than a fantastic little package of all good things to come. Give me strength.

Anyway, we arrived at the airport, boarded our flight, flew, arrived, rested, boarded our second flight, flew and arrived again. In the middle, in lovely Atlanta GA (really, I am trying) we found a restaurant to grab our lunch prior to flight number two. Since we were flying in coach (or peasant class as I like to call it) our only source of sustenance was the teeny-tiny pack of peanuts and a diet coke (or 7UP as Dave would order). Not what I would call filling. So, Chili's it was.

US Travel Tip #1...

Order one entry and split it between two.

I had ordered what I thought would be a sensible, light salad and Dave ordered what he thought would be a small appetizer wrap-thing (or something like that to be specific). What arrived was enough food to get me through what I would normally eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner in one day. What on earth is going on??? We were wondering the night before when we arrived in Buffalo and went out to grab, what else would you have in Buffalo but authentic Buffalo wings for a late dinner. Each of us ordered one serving which after we were done, half still remained on our plates. "No thank you, we would not like to take it to go." Can you imagine what the hotel room would have smelled like in the morning if we had? But this "lunch" which turned out to be equal to any dinner I've ever served for any major holiday (ok, I might be exaggerating just a bit with this one but you get my point) rendered me twice bitten. As we sat at our table and looked with regret at the heap of food that remained on our plates (and this was after the languished pleads of "no, you really have to help me eat this... I can't possibly") we agreed that for the remainder of our trip we would order one main course to split and decide from there if we wanted anything else. A plan that served us well as the trip carried on...

As we arrived at the Gulfport/Biloxi airport late in the day we faced clouds, a drizzle of rain and a not-too-promising outlook for the Saturday ahead of us.

But this is vacation... you never know what's just around the corner.

Hello Friends

2010-04-19T19:03:00.003-04:00

I wonder about myself sometimes... Seriously, I just plain wonder.

There are long periods where I feel like I should be writing something but for the life of me, I can't imagine what I have to write about. Short of trying to make my choice for breakfast seem interesting (large coffee... cream, double sugar; I know... I should eat... most important meal of the day... I know I know), really what's there to say?

But at this particular moment in time, I've got stuff.. Oh ya, baby; I've got stuff!

As I notice that this is just past the second anniversary of me creating this blog and just approaching the first anniversary of my move to the Hammer (that's Hamilton for those not nearby this town I call home), I find myself very excited about my latest upcoming adventure.

I am about to embark on a road trip. I love road trips!

I think my love for the open road and all the mystery and excitement and adventure it has to offer came from my Dad. I remember well when I was little and he would take me on drives in the country... Usually on Sunday afternoons... Sometimes he would even let me sit on his lap and steer, at least until I inevitably veered directly towards the ditch. But I did love the time... I loved gazing up to the sky watching the clouds change form and towards the homes we passed imagining the life stories that were taking place in their walls as we passed by and those are loves that I carry with me to this day. I owe my Dad a big thank you for that one.

Anyway, come Friday of this week, I'll be boarding a plane (the road trip part is coming up, don't worry) for beautiful Gulfport MS.

Huh?

Not high up on the list of "places to visit in the US" I know, (sorry Gulfport but let's be realistic) but it all makes sense in the end. At least in my mind it does. My fella, Dave and I are going on an adventure, renting a car when we get there and cramming in as much New Orleans, JazzFest, creole, history, music, French Quarter, cajun, vintage cars, dogwood & azaleas, Degas, Buffett, food glorious food that we possibly can in seven days and seven nights. And the hope is we will, along our journey, find a 1967-ish Cadillac to bring on home to Canada. If that's not an adventure, I don't know what is.

Today, in the planning stages, I am at one of my favourite parts of vacationing... At this point you can pile as much of everything into your time away as your imagination allows. Today, everything goes. As time goes by and reality sets in, usually I find that activities drop off, sites get passed over and decisions are made... what would I regret missing more? The Athens on the Square Antique Car Show or the the Mississippi Craw-fish Festival? But now, all will be seen, experienced fully and tucked away in my memory bank for future enjoyment.

I'll keep you posted as we travel along; the laptop is joining us on the journey... Feel free to give suggestions of places to visit, things to do, people to see, if you've been to the area.

Right now, I have all the time in the world!!

Taking Inventory

2009-09-23T19:54:00.003-04:00

I find that once in a while it's a worthwhile exercise to pause for a moment and take stock of where you are in life, where you want to be and what you want to change.

During my blog-cation (vacation from my blog) a lot changed in my life. My address and my relationship status, most notably. I have moved from my long-time home of Brantford to my new home of Hamilton. I was actually quite surprised how emotional I became at leaving the town I honestly felt no huge connection to other than, most importantly, my children and where they were born. But they are grown now (physically and in every other way) and on their own paths so that attachment, I thought, would be easier to severe.

Man, was I wrong. I would tear up at the thought of not being a "Brantfordite." I began to realize how much I had invested in that community and how much it had influenced who I had become and I was grateful for all of it. But time moves on, things change and off I went, away from the town I had called home longer than any other. One night before the big move I was out with my best girlfriends bemoaning that "I'm Sal from Brantford... I don't know how well I'll do being Sal from Hamilton" when my wise friend told me, "No, you're just Sal. Where you're from doesn't matter."

I have such smart girlfriends.

So I moved and moved on. And there is so much I love about my new home. And there is so much I miss about my old one. And all of that is ok by me.

As for that "relationship status" change... Well that's a blog and a half worth of what's new. But it, too, is all good. And there is a lot to consider there. I have my boys (I know... they're older but as I have always said and will always say, they are my boys and that, my friend, is that) and he has his clan of three girls and one boy (I refer to his children as girls and boys the same way as I refer to my boys... FYI) and two grandkids. Yup. You heard me. Oh my that's a whole new ballgame. It's not like it's "Yours, Mine & Ours" (the cool 1968 one with Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball not the so un-cool one with Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo) but it is a mix that I have no experience with and I find always interesting and sometimes challenging.

But what's life if not interesting and challenging?

As for work (although I'd like to, I can't ignore work), it has it's ups and downs like everything in life. But I'm on the upside right now for sure. I am preparing for a fantastic trip to Paris and London that I earned through a sales incentive. Excited? That doesn't even begin to cover it. So suffice to say, I'm totally ok with work right now.

So at this particular moment... all is all good. Inventory complete and abundant.

Change of Pace

2009-09-13T16:58:00.004-04:00

So, one of the things that I like about being a real adult (as opposed to the adult I imagined myself as growing up to be, although I think that adult indulged in complete self-absorbtion totally absent of income, responsibility or consequence) is that on occasion, when required or requested, I can alter the pace of my life just a bit for just a while.

And that's what I did today.

Today, I did almost nothing... short of eating (naturally), making a list of items to pack for my upcoming trip (lots more about that in future correspondence) and enjoying a couple of glasses of wine (oh my... in the middle of the day, no less).

And this I love. Nothing special is sometimes just a special as something special, if that makes sense. Yesterday I spent the day hanging out with my best girlfriends, laughing and talking and reminiscning and enjoying each other and today I am extending that luxury to another day of out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. Tomorrow, I will get back to work and from what I can see coming so far, things will be a little crazy for a little while.

But today, there is none of that. Today, there is just the sound of music in the background, pages of my favourite magazine turning and the unusual sound of what... what could that be???

The sound of squirrels duelling (or chatting or flirting) on my balcony.

I kid you not... How's that for a change of pace?

Calling out...

2009-09-08T20:20:00.003-04:00

Remember me? It's been a long time... a really long time and I have to say I've missed you. So much has happened in the past almost-year that it would take up too much time (and you'd probably nod off after only a few minutes) so I'll spare you the details. For now.

But why, you might be asking, am I back now? What brought me back?

Was it seeing Julie & Julia at the movies and thinking, "Hey, if I blog about meeting Brad Pitt, do you think he'd read it and call me up? Or at least comment about me to some random journalist? Or what if I wrote about Angelina Jolie? Or both... Now there's a win/win." No... that wasn't it.

Was it the remarkable, odd, you-had-to-be-there-to-believe-it, like-nothing-I've-ever-seen-before couple dancing at the jazz club I was at on Saturday... He dancing like some strange cross between a penguin and marionette and she like a 50+ cheerleader dancing to a song in her head that had nothing to do with the song the band was playing... No, not that either although that would make a great blog.

It was that I honestly, truly missed doing this. I missed sharing my experiences with all of you (or both of you... or just you and you know who you are) and hearing your thoughts come back to me.

I have so much to share with you my friends. I hope you're still out there and I hope we'll talk again soon.

Until then, good thoughts are going out from me to you.

Silly Season

2008-09-15T12:17:00.007-04:00

So it's election time again. And again, actually. As Canada, through virtue of geographical proximity as well as economic, social, psychological and just about every other kind possible it seems, has been observing the two-year soap opera that is the American presidential election process, lo and behold we are now facing an election of our own.... One month from now.

I always have found it interesting that the United States spends so much time, energy and money on their federal election process when we here seem to rifle these things off in our sleep. Literally, sometimes.

I suppose if you use the old one-tenth comparator and presume the US spends around 24 months on their election process, our two month long one is totally predictable. But I still wonder how much can we truncate this process before we are only glazing over the surface of issues and candidates. I think the very nature of our election process demands a more attentive electorate. You have to pay attention because if you're not following things pretty closely, you're going to miss something. And that's a big presumption to make... that we're all paying appropriate attention. Especially when you consider that in the last federal election, only about six in ten Canadians with the democratic right to vote chose to do so, our lowest turn out in history. If we don't actually get out to vote, can we really assume that we are paying attention?

Well, I will vote as I always do. Being a daughter of a man who fought in a World War, I have always been intensely aware of the duty of participation that comes with this freedom we are blessed to enjoy. Being a woman in a country that seems to presume equality where it does not yet exist compels me to vote. And every chance I get, I do my best to compel those I meet to do the same. Take a few minutes. Cast your ballot. Make your mark.

But do me another favour... pay attention!

Summer Top Ten Revisited

2008-08-27T13:49:00.004-04:00

So as we approach the last long weekend of the summer of 2008, I find myself thinking back over the course of the last two and half months or so. What have I done? What didn't I do that I thought I would? And what surprises have come along the way?

There is so much I've enjoyed about this summer, so many surprises that have met me along this journey that I thought I had well mapped out, And isn't that just the best thing you can hope for?

In reviewing my little Summer Top Ten list, the first thing that struck me was that the only item on the list that included, without doubt, anyone else other than myself was my hope for an invitation to a friend's cottage. And as it would turn out that was the one that had the greatest impact on me.

Let's review, shall we?

First, the easy part... What on my list did I get done? As I mentioned, I've been to a friend's cottage. Twice actually. With one more visit planned for this weekend. That's a big woo hoo! The trip to Kensington Market with my son Parker was a rousing success for us both, you've heard all about my unfortunate yet really fun day at the beach, Arbor Dogs were an easy one to accomplish on the beach day and I've made my way through a couple of great books to boot. For those teachers or accountants out there, that's five of the ten in the list that I can handily check off.

What did I miss? Well, I didn't get to AGO or the ROM but on my trip to San Francisco I was lucky to enjoy an afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art so I think I can call that one a "sort of" done.

I have not gone to a Jays game, seen a movie at a drive-in, gone to Fergus or the Toronto Zoo (or the African Lion Safari as an alternate). But as the optimist I am this is what I can say; I am blessed and happy to have replaced those items with...

I had a beautiful, spontaneous picnic on the banks of our Grand River and enjoyed conversation, great wine and impromptu visits from boys who were successful in their frog-catching expedition.

I went on my first out-of-country vacation in over three years, as I said, to San Francisco, met new friends, enjoyed fantastic food and had a poetry-inspiring lunch on a patio overlooking a winery in the the beautiful Napa Valley.

And best of all, I had a door opened up for me that I had considered closed for a very long time. More on that as time goes on but it has allowed me to view my future and my life with an optimism and exuberance that I haven't had for I can't say how long.

I think, at the end of the day, at the end of the summer, and at the beginning of this new chapter, I can say that I have most certainly come out ahead.

You have to love it when you find a path you didn't think existed and it takes you someplace wonderful.

Hello, again

2008-08-18T11:11:00.002-04:00

It feels like it’s been ages… well, it has been ages really.

I haven’t written anything lately for a few reasons and even as I sit here writing now, I’m not sure I can articulate with any real clarity what they are.

First, it’s summer and time seems to travel at a different pace in the summer… more slowly but more quickly at the same time. There’s no explaining it really except to say that I have, on several occasions, found myself being acutely aware of the incredible passing of time while noting a moment seeming to last longer than one could hope or dream. Does that make any sense at all? Probably not.

Second, I have been busy changing. And change takes time, effort and energy. By no means am I done but I certainly feel that I have turned a corner. An important one that without navigating, the hopes and dreams I held for myself would surely never come true.

As one of my true friends recently told me right here on this blog: “Sometimes, it is difficult to hear because of the noise of others. The noise is comprised of opinions, judgments, identifications, and criticisms of you. You must filter the noise to hear the truth.” And that’s what I have been working at doing. The funny thing is, that as I resigned myself to a future that I was welcoming of but thought to be less than what I had once hoped for, I found that everything I was seeking was right there in front of me. Go figure. Once I shut off the voices of doubt, judgment and disappointment, all the messages of hope and love and happiness were loud and clear. I thank you, my friend, for reminding me of that pure and wise message.

And so here I am… watching the few remaining days of summer pass by while I fill them with all things and people I love. I am excited and hope-filled. Who could ask for more?

“Change, when it comes, cracks everything open.”
Dorothy Allison

Beach Blanket Baking

2008-07-07T14:27:00.002-04:00

As I continue to work through my Summer Top 10 list, yesterday I crossed off number five, “a day at the beach”

I love the beach and being from South Western Ontario in a community perfectly nestled within easy driving distance of three Great Lakes, there are several beautiful beaches to choose from. When I was growing up in little Woodstock, Ontario most of my classmates went with their families to Sauble Beach, a lovely spot on Lake Huron that was a short, easy drive away and the beach of choice for most of Woodstock it seemed. I, however, never went for a few reasons… First, I was never part of the “in” crowd who went and knew that showing up would result in more torment than it was worth… Second, I was quite happy frolicking on the shores of the little lake that was tucked within the city of Woodstock, Pittock Lake (being very generous calling it a lake really… after all, it was created by damming the Thames River for crying out loud). I am, at heart, a simple gal.

Couple that with my family’s annual trips to Florida over Christmas break as well as regular visits to my aunt and uncle who lived on the shores of Wasaga Beach, Ontario and you have a love of the beach and all the glory that lives there that has been cultivated and expanded upon over the course of my lifetime.

So as I said, yesterday off I went to my current beach of choice, Port Dover. Again, a beach community located very close to my own town but this time a lakeside village on the shores of Lake Erie. It is not a large beach but it is a pretty one and with the ease of the drive and a door-to-beach commute of less than 40 minutes, I’m a happy gal indeed.

Sunday morning I packed my necessary beach gear (most of which spends the summer in the beach bag ready for a spur-of-the-moment jaunt)… book, iPod (to be used only in the case of an overpowering influx of unwelcome music from beach blanket neighbours), blanket, scarf to tie my hair back, wallet and sunscreen all easily tucked into the big straw bag that I purchased on my most exotic of beach trips, Nice, France. I did pack sunscreen. I did. But I did not use it. More on that later.

One of the things I love most about the beach is the symphonic layering of sounds… You have the constant lapping of the waves on the shore, conversations coming in and out of focus, children laughing and sometimes crying, dogs barking, music playing (happily on this occasion I was not bothered by a battle of the boom-boxes… do they still call them boom-boxes? Not likely), gulls calling all combining to the most perfect of white noises.

Although the beach was predictably busy for a perfect summer day, not too hot and not humid at all, I easily found myself a spot to set up camp. And there I stayed for the whole afternoon… I swam a few times, read for a while, walked for a while, laid out for a while… I was oblivious of time passing other than the unavoidable tracking of the sun across the sky. I felt nothing other than the joy of what seemed the most perfect of Sunday afternoons. Until I got in my car to drive home. There it was… that uncomfortable tightening of my skin on the backs of my legs all the way up, pausing then there again covering my back. Burn? Was I burnt?

It has always been predictable how I “tan” each year. One burn to start off the season then I’m good to go. Now, I am sure there are people out there screaming at their computer screens about the dangers of unprotected exposure to the sun, long-term effects of sun damage… I know I know. I’m a mom… I know. I spent countless hours fighting to slather sunscreen on my boys when they went out to play or at the beach. I know. I know better.

And I know the pain of sunburn… I’m the gal with freckles on her shoulders from a second degree burn that I received while coaching girls baseball with my girlfriend Ruthann when I was in grade twelve (I add that detail specifically because my friends will read it and either fall off their chairs laughing or out and out call me a liar… but I swear it’s true).

So I do know the dangers of sunburn and yet there I was last night, trying my hardest to find a comfortable position to lay where my back and rear end were not screaming in discomfort. And don’t get me started on sitting on the leather seats of my car or at my desk at work. I am paying the price. And I swear I won’t do it again… Until next year.

But what a day I had!!

Mind Over Matter

2008-07-03T10:02:00.006-04:00

There are times writing this feels like ideas flowing easily from the gates of my mind... Then there are times like this, when I am feeling heavy from the weight thoughts that have no beauty in them that the words get stuck in my head and can't come together in any coherent, logical form.

I am looking for answers and I just can't seem to find them. I feel like so many aspects of my life are currently thrown up in the air and I am waiting and watching to see where they land.

I want to go with my gut on one issue but my gut has taken me in a direction that has brought me to a point where I am struggling beyond my capabilities... In other areas, I have done what I can and await decisions that will impact my next move in every other area...

And so I am looking desperately, darting my attentions around for sources of inspiration and support from anywhere I can. I am lucky because I am finding them and as usual, it comes down to where you focus your attention.

I stumbled upon a fun little website that takes words from any source... something you write in, another website or, in my case, a blog and makes them into a clip-art styled montage of the message within. Try as I might, I could not figure out how to insert the resulting image of my blog words into my blog so I have added the link to what was produced.

To my great delight, the word that was the most predominant was "happy" so I titled my Wordle "Happy Most of All"

Not yet, but I'm hopeful.

Free Hugs

2008-06-26T10:58:00.006-04:00

I am a hugger... I am fine in admitting that fact. I don't know when I became a hugger (probably right around the birth of my oldest boy, come to think of it) but I've been one for as long as I can remember now. Not a tree-hugger either (well, it's not that I'm not a tree-hugger, it's just that trees are not on the top of my hug list). I'm a people hugger.

In being a hugger, there are certain precautions one must take because not all people are huggers like me.

First of course, it's rarely appropriate to hug at the office although I have to admit, I have worked in my present job long enough, feel like I know and like my co-workers well enough that I have to remind myself not to hug when I see them in the office.

Second, as I mentioned not everyone is a hugger and it's important to respect others' boundaries above all. I learned during my work at the Women's Centre that hugs are not always welcome and they can in fact trigger some pretty awful, primal responses over which the recipient has no control. I am so lucky that I am not restricted by the pain unwanted touch causes a person but I am aware of its impact and respectful of the pain it causes in others. What I also learned at the Centre though is that it is perfectly fine to let a person who you know is in pain know that you are available to give hugs as often as wanted, one only needs to ask.

But when it comes right down to it, I'm a hugger... unabashed and unashamed. I am a true believer in the power of positive human contact. I know that when I give or receive a hug, I feel better, happier, lighter. There seems to be an exchange of happiness between people that at the same times leaves less room for troubles or worries and so they go... if only for a moment. And sometimes, even just a moment of less worry, pain, concern is a blessing.

So just so you know... when you need a hug, I'm here. Virtually if not in person.

Hugs to you all

*See the great Free Hug campaign commercial here....

Causes for Celebration

2008-06-25T18:53:00.003-04:00

I am suddenly excited about stuff in general.

Today was the close for sales at work... don't worry, I will not be boring you with endless tales of the excitement that is my sales career (she yawns, stretches and takes a moment to re-focus as she has made herself nod off with the thought of it). It is the end of our quarter and first half of the year which means my deals are closed and my hands are tied for selling until the new round of prices and promotions come out in early July. That in itself deserves a big woo hoo!

But on top of that there is a holiday coming up here in Canada... July 1st is our country's birthday and that means (woo hoo #2) a day off on Tuesday. And with not much to do for work... that means a sort-of day off on Monday as well (woo hoo #3!!).

I have already started to fill my weekend, however you choose to define it - long or not, and so my excitement level is high and rising.... My work collegues and I are together on Friday for an extravagant celebratory dinner and night of dancing thanks to a well-earned prize our sales team won this month. A few of us are staying at a nearby hotel overnight to avoid the drink & drive question all together so I'm guessing half of Saturday will be spent getting myself back home and the other half is open for whatever comes up. Gay Pride is celebrated in Toronto like nowhere else and although I am not myself gay, I have wonderful friends who are and I am looking forward to the parade on Sunday and all the revelry that goes with it.

I am giddy with excitement. Fun all 'round.

Of course the problem with being so goofy about your energy level is the reaction of those around you. I am wishing people a good weekend as I visit them during my appointments at work which, on a Wednesday, has brought no end to the strange looks.

But that too is worth a laugh. So happy hump day to you as well and here's hoping we all get a few glorious days of fun.

Happy Endings

2008-06-24T18:59:00.009-04:00

I was watching a movie on the weekend, which shall remain nameless because when it comes right down to it, the name of the movie is really irrelevant. It's about the ending though and it is a tale repeated over and over again on movie screens and in dvd's every single day.

I am wondering about Hollywood’s fascination with happy endings, specifically where relationships are concerned. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a happy ending as much as the next gal but sometimes they just seem to go overboard with the perfection thing. So I was wondering is the problem with Hollywood or with me?

After experiencing what I have over the course of my lifetime my faith in happy endings was at best greatly diminished and at worst, a distant memory… Depended on the day really. And yet the movies that I go to see, television shows that I watch continue to revert back to the age-old boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl-back story line whether it is over the course of a couple of hours in a theatre or over a season in my living room.

I think of myself as an optimistic realist… I believe in something better but am always prepared for something worse. I lead a happy, full life… I have wonderful friends, my family is healthy and loves me as much as I love them. I want for nothing, I am blessed in so many ways and I pay attention to my blessings because I have lived without them and I want to drink them in every moment. But I also want the pleasure of sharing my happiness with someone who wants to share theirs with me just as much. And I don't think I'm unique in that regard either.

I have on my refrigerator a great compilation of magnets and messages, photos and notes that is an ever-changing collage of how I view my life at the moment, but the one piece that you will always find there is this:

My Favourite Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy "Will you marry me?"

The guy said "no."

And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, to the theatre, dancing, traveling, drank martinis, always had a clean house and never had to cook...

And farted whenever she wanted.

The End

Having had some experience with being passed over as the girl of choice, I find solace in this happy little tale. And I have decided that I will embark on writing my own happy ending. I posted that as my status today on Facebook... "Sally is writing her own happy ending" and within in minutes I had messages from friends either asking me to write theirs as well or let me know how it turns out so they can do the same.

This is my story… No Hollywood ending but a happy one. My life. And my heart.

A Full Heart

2008-06-21T09:48:00.002-04:00

My son came home from afar this week. He has been gone, living abroad since August of last year and I last saw his face, hugged him, heard his laughter, when he was home over the Christmas holidays.

I love my boys, oh how I love them. They are each kind, funny, smart, wonderful young men… unique in their perfections and imperfections and similar in their mannerisms and charms. It takes me aback at times when I consider who they have become and from where they have come… From little boys with skinned knees and tears, hospital visits and pet store acquisitions, giggles and games all on the road to becoming to men that I am so proud to know let alone have the privilege of parenting.

But it is my duty as a parent to, from the moment they enter my life, prepare them to leave me and succeed on their own. That is my duty and I owe them that and so much more. So I have done my best and loved them more than I imagined possible. And now, as they move forward with their lives, as they should, I am left to cheer them from way back on the sidelines. As I should. The cheering part, that’s always been easy… But the sidelines part… that is hard.

Our hearts at times seem independent spirits… it is without our will or consent how deeply they devote themselves to others and it is often a surprise to us how fully they feel love. It is a blessing in every way but it is equally surprising how deeply they feel hurt when the objects of our affections are not close to us.

Much has been written about distance between hearts but what I think is it’s the one distance you are most acutely aware of. It’s the one that wakes you up in the middle of the night or makes you think of that person in the middle of a busy day. It is distracting and occupying. When you are close, it feels like your heart beats stronger and that space in it, saved for that person, is filled.

I am so happy my boys are all near to me. I will drink up their love now and on into the future as they continue to scatter along the paths of their lives.

Breaking Free

2008-06-20T06:26:00.003-04:00

Sometimes the elements of your life present themselves in a way that provides remarkable clarity… if you’re paying attention.

Since I have been “single” (separated really, not divorced but legal in its definition or so I’m told) I have had many moments like that; where because I am paying closer attention, I see things that were invisible or at lease well disguised to me previously.

When I separated, everyone told me the first year would be the hardest… the first birthdays, holidays, anniversaries… all of these spent for the first time alone would be the hardest. Well, in my humble opinion those people lied (not maliciously... just naively). Or at least set up a false expectation of relief that has not yet come.

Having said that, I can tell you that the way I define my special occasions now has certainly changed. But still, there are times that are more difficult than others because of the cluster of events. May and June are right up there. May has mother’s day, my parents’ anniversary and is the month my father died and June has father’s day, my wedding anniversary and the day my mother died (how about that for irony?).

I have crystal clear recollections of when I was growing up, sitting in my bed at night calculating how old I would be at the turn of the century (thinking it was such a far way off). I knew I would be 37… I was also certain, with absolute surety, that I would be dead by 40. For no particular reason. I just knew I would be gone from this earth by then. No shock. No sadness.

In my work at the Women’s Centre I learned that this is a common thought of people who have survived a difficult childhood. There is a feeling that they will die young and there is no sadness, remorse or regret in it. It is a statement of fact and requires no empathy or support.

As I celebrated the new millennium with my family and friends I gave this memory a passing thought but didn’t dwell on it. Until one night in June of 2000.

My family and I had been away for a few days and when we returned we found a series of telephone messages for me. In increasing severity and urgency I was being told that my mother was not well and was admitted to the hospital in the town where I grew up and she still resided. And it seemed she would not survive the night. Get there soon, I was told.

So I left my home and ventured out for what was one of the most remarkable drives of my life. As I drove the highway to my old home town, the sky in front of me was being lit with flashes of lightening behind mountains of clouds in the distance. I was acutely aware that I was driving into a storm in every possible sense.

When I arrived at the hospital, my sister was there with my mother and for the course of the night my sister and I sat by her bedside and talked about nothing at all. Our relationship, my sister and mine, had always been strained at best and this was not the best of circumstances.

My sister had been at the hospital for much longer than I when, in the middle of the night she said she needed to lay down and rest a while. Off she went to a room designated specifically for family members needing rest, leaving me alone in this sterile environment with the woman I called Mom. During this quiet time, with only my mother and me in the hospital room, I saw her for who she was... just a woman relaxing into her longest of sleeps. She wasn't my mother, just a woman who had lived her life and was about to depart this earth in the most peaceful of ways. I talked to her some of the time, sat and watched her for some of the time, walked around the room a bit and just waited.

In the middle of the night, our mother passed with both of us in the room. I was inches from her face, talking to her as I heard her draw her last breath, looked up at my sister as she was in the middle of a conversation with the attending nurse and announced that she was gone. I didn’t need the nurse to confirm what I already knew.

After the required conversations and meetings that we had with hospital staff, in the small hours of the morning, I headed back on the journey to my home. And I was driving into a bright, beautiful sunrise. I had come out of the storm and was facing a new day.

And what I knew then and there was that it wasn’t me that was going to part this earth before I was 40… it was the frightened, insecure, person that had lived inside of me all those years. I had said good bye to her and my mother in the same quiet breath.

My mother was free and so was I.

Summer Top 10 List

2008-06-18T19:12:00.003-04:00

Friday is the first day of summer. I wish there were a way to convey in written text the sense of glee I have as I type this. I have said before that I feel that each season has its own personality; spring is freshness and optimism, autumn is comfort and reflection, winter is swaddling and kin ... but summer, sweet sweet summer...

Summer is lightness and happiness. Summer is being relaxed and laughing loudly. It's not caring if your hair is perfect, your clothes wrinkled... the summer breeze and heat take care of those worries and make them disappear. The biggest care in summer is whether you are stocked up with sunscreen.

So as we teeter on the brink of my favourite season, I've compiled my Top Ten List of things I want to do over the next glorious weeks (in no particular order)

1. See a movie at a drive-in theatre - There aren't many of these gems around any more but happily, there is one in my old home town of Woodstock (that little town does have its charm). Maybe I'll stop for a Bartley's Ice Cream too.

2. Go to a Blue Jays Game - I love baseball. I love the social aspect of the game... there is so much time between pitches and action it gives you a chance to chat up the fans around you and make new friends. What's better than that? Baseball and new friends. And hot dogs. And beer. Perfection.

3. Go to Fergus - This is a town not far away from where I live with a famous farmer's market... It's worth the drive and I haven't been in years. I love getting fresh produce and home-made wares. It's a delight.

4. Arbor Dogs - If you go back to my Friends on Bikes post, you'll read my comments on a little town of Port Dover, on the shore of Lake Erie. The Arbor in Port Dover has, in my opinion, the best foot-long hot dog in the world and I hope to be partaking more than once.

5. Day at the beach - Happily, this one can likely be accomplished with #4 but it's worth its own number for sure. Book... cooler... bikini... sunscreen. Perfection yet again.

6. Zoo or Safari - Toronto Zoo or African Lion Safari, two nearby attractions that, again, not having been in a few years, are calling me back (please refrain from the "animals shouldn't be in cages" speech... My boys gained far more respect and caring for animals from seeing them live than anything they got from reading about them in books and both of these organizations are open and well-run facilities)

7. Read books - Need I say more?

8. Kensington Market - A wonderful neighbourhood in Toronto. I have to admit to cheating just a bit here, because I am going this weekend with my youngest son and his friends. But I do love this treasure trove of vintage and unique clothing and accessories

9. AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario) or ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) - Fantastic museum and gallery that I adore. ADORE.

10. Friend's Cottage - I have precious few friends with cottages (you know who you are) but I have already been working at "invitations" for a visit. Almost secured one for this weekend but see #8... Time at a cottage is as close to heaven as I think you can get. Hello Walden.

That's it for me... Might I be so bold as to suggest you make your own list? It's fun just thinking of things to be doing over these next precious days. I'm not sure I'll be able to check all 10 off the list but I sure will try and that in itself is a great adventure.

Buckle Up

2008-06-17T20:03:00.003-04:00

A conversation I had with a coworker today got me thinking.

He was talking about his daughter celebrating her birthday today and somehow that led to a comparison of how our children live today in contrast to how we lived growing up. And that got me to thinking...

As far as I can tell, it's a miracle that any of us are still alive. We rode with no bike helmets, in cars with no seat belts, no car seats. For those who had parents with vans, take the seats out and sit on the floor so you can stretch out and play... even better. If they had a pick-up truck, well yee-haw, jump in back and let the wind sing to you for the ride. Our parents let us play in dirt all the live-long day and except for the obligatory before meals wash-up and end-of-day bath, we were never clean. We lived in rooms with lead paint, had mercury in our fillings, and I for one spent countless Christmas holidays driving to and from Florida with my two chain-smoking parents in the car... windows rolled up... without my seatbelt on. Not to mention the other 16 years in the smoke-filled house.

We left to "go outside and play" first thing in the morning, checked in at lunch (sometimes) and came home right after the street lights came on.

We didn't have cell phones, pagers, BlackBerrys or anything of that nature to check in with home or have them check in on us. If we were really lucky we had walkie-talkies that reached around the corner of the house on a good day with fresh batteries.

Look both ways before you cross the street... Don't talk to strangers.... As far as I can recall, those were the nuggets of safety-based wisdom that were drilled into us... Oh ya, and that wacky "don't do drugs" movie in grade seven health class that had those crazy kids thinking the burner on the stove was really a flower. That didn't end well.

And yet here we are... no worse for wear (well, maybe a little bit but really not much).

Knowing all we know now about the dangers that surround us, and what we used to "pull off" when we were younger, no wonder we've become so protective of our children and aware of our surroundings. How could we not be? I can't imagine, as a parent, not worrying constantly about my boys... and I know in their own ways, our parents worried constantly about us (although I'm not sure what about).

But oh how I loved having the whole day to fill with adventures.

Open Dialogue

2008-06-16T18:55:00.003-04:00

I have had a number of conversations recently revolving around being open, opening up to people. I don’t consider myself a closed person, but I have the distinct impression that those around me might say otherwise.

I have a number of thoughts on the matter and being the open person I am I will share them with you (ha!).

First, it’s been my experience that when someone asks “how are you?” generally speaking the answer is either presumed by them or irrelevant to them so if you ask me “how are you” I will give any number of versions of the same thing… but they are, reflecting my desire to always stay positive regardless of how negative things may seem, always of a positive nature. Fine, good, dandy (things are really good), great (self-evident)… At worst I will offer an “ok” which is to say, not. If, on a rare occasion you hear me say “I’ve been better” or “not great” hide sharp objects and take stock of over-the-counter pharmaceuticals.

Second, it’s not that I’m not open, really I don’t think so. I just don’t talk about myself much. I find other people fascinating and love to hear stories of their families, adventures, partners, children. I love conversations and I can think of about a billion things more interesting to talk about than myself. But that is not to say I’m not open. If someone asks me a personal question, about anything, I will answer. I often hear people say “do you mind if I ask…?” and I never do. I always figure if a person is interested, they’ll ask. And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But otherwise, honestly, it’s not that I’m hiding anything, it’s just that I think there’s other stuff to chat about and it would never occur to me to include myself in the list.

I made the comment to someone recently that I blog all the time, clear evidence of opening myself up. The response I got back was as simple as my claim… “You said it yourself… you’re talking to everyone and no one. Easy to talk openly in an empty room” Jerk.

“Look at your photography” this person said. “You never show all of yourself in the self-portraits. You are always hiding something… keeping something out of sight.” Double jerk.

Well… the other aspect of my personality that I am happy to be open about is a ridiculous level of stubbornness. I’ll show you, yes I will.

So… hmm… what to say? I am going to make coconut shrimp for dinner then take a long soothing bath and exfoliate.

Give me a break. It’s a start.

From Dad

2008-06-15T08:45:00.003-04:00

This past Mother’s Day, as a mother myself, I reflected on the lessons that I learned from my mother and the lessons I had tried to pass on to my sons. Now, facing Father’s Day without my own dear dad and as my sons enjoy it with their own dear dad, I am reflecting again.

I have been without my dad since I was 21. I was young and in a very unhappy place when he died and I felt then that I lost him when I needed him most. As the years and decades have passed, I realize now that I was almost right then. It was a huge loss to me when he died, but at the same time, it was the only way that I could have moved forward in a way that would ensure my happiness and that of my wonderful little boy. So move on I did, in the absence of the one form of support that I could always count on.

My dad taught me a lot.

Now again, I am not so naïve to think, even with the fading of the sharpness of my past to believe that my dad was without faults. He, like all of us, had his share. He was an alcoholic, he worked hard and spent very little time at home with his family except, as the good Catholic he was, on Sundays. He kept his feelings deeply hidden except when he was angry with my sister or me, or our mother for that matter. He withheld affection and even communication when he was angry and he could be angry for days at a time.

But despite all that, I feel my dad was a wonderful man and I’ll tell you why. My dad saved me. I have mentioned before that I was adopted at the age of two and for as long as I can remember my dad would sit me on his knee (or anywhere nearby when I grew too big) and tell me in great detail the story of how he found me. Keep in mind that I was a two year old, cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl… hardly high up on the adoptability scale. But he would tell me how he walked around the place where I Iived, looking at all the pretty, perfect little girls that played there, and chose me. I am sure that it didn’t actually happen that way, but he let me believe it did.

And that gave me an enormous sense of being wanted in a home that gave all indications to the contrary. That was the one lesson that was the most important of all; that I was loved. He told me so, often. He would not let me leave home without kissing him on the cheek and telling me he loved me (unless, as I said he wasn’t speaking to me… this I can forgive).

And he told me, in the most embarrassing of ways and at the most embarrassing of times, that no guys I knew were good enough for me. Not a lesson that stuck unfortunately, but a lesson worth repeating by any parent when you see your child going down a path that you know will end in sorrow.

So, my dear dad, in the relatively short time we had together, gave me the best gifts, taught me the most important lessons.

And as it turns out… he was there when I needed him the most. He found me and saved me, that cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl, and that made everything else possible.

Friends on Bikes

2008-06-13T10:39:00.003-04:00

This morning I was aroused from my slumber by the sound of hogs… of the Harley Davidson variety.

Today is Friday the 13th and around these parts that can mean only one thing… No it’s not a foreboding of trouble to come, a call to stay away from work or remain indoors out of fear of something bad happening. No, around here it’s a call to Port Dover, especially, particularly if you have a motorcycle.

Really, Friday the 13th is created for and by bikers, the rest of the folks attending are just crashing their party. And let me tell you, this is no small party. There are a precious few Fridays the 13th in any given year and this event is held rain or shine, spring, summer, fall or winter. This year we have only one such Friday and it is today, what is starting out as a beautiful sunshiny day. Granted, there is some rain predicted for later but that will do nothing to quell the spirits or dampen the enthusiasm I am sure. From what I can tell, bikers are a lot tougher than that.

I have known three bikers in my life (that I am aware of anyway). Right now I work with one, Cam, a wonderful guy who I am happy to call a friend. He has a slick Honda motorcycle that reflects his personality perfectly. It’s a shiny bright blue machine that looks like it goes way faster than should ever be allowed. It’s sharp and so is its owner so they are perfectly matched I think. As far as I know Cam and his bike are probably on the road to Port Dover as I am typing this.

Then there is Mike… Mike on a Bike as we affectionately called him. Mike used to live next door where I used to live (follow me?) and he was new to motorcycle ownership. Words can’t describe the pride in his face the day he brought home his new hog. He was thrilled. It wasn’t a big bike but it was his and it looked good. He took me out for a ride on the back once, around town and out in the country. I decided then and there that I am not a Bike Bitch unless it’s one of those big comfy ones with really padded seats. I couldn’t walk properly for hours after my butt hurt so bad from the bumps on the road. Besides, I always prefer to be in the driver’s seat anyway.

And then there was Grizzly, Griz for those who know him well and I would never presume myself to be one of them. Grizzly is actually Mike on a Bike’s father-in-law and the most remarkable character you could imagine when sitting atop his bike. He has a three-wheeler (he would kill me I’m sure if he ever read this because I’m sure there has to be a cooler way of putting this but that’s what it is… it’s a three-wheeler!!) and he sits low to the ground with his arms up in the air grasping the handlebars. Grizzly wears only black and his ZZ Top beard hangs down and blows back in the wind has he roars along the open road. I have said barely 10 words to Grizzly in my life and all with my eyes lowered in deferential respect. Grizzly scares me just a little bit but has given no reason to draw this emotion out of me other than his imposing façade.

So as our little neighbour town swells from its normal 6,000 population to the anticipated 150,000 today (I told you it was big), I’m sure there will be lots of Cam’s and Mike’s and Grizzly’s (well, there’s only one Grizzly) and I hope they have a fantastic day and an Arbor Dog or two.

Me, I’m more of a Vespa kinda gal.

We Will Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming...

2008-06-12T17:58:00.006-04:00

I am having technical difficulties...

A few weeks ago I dropped my BlackBerry in a puddle. It goes without saying that my BlackBerry didn't like that and rebelled in the most interesting and annoying ways. It would jump into the telephone screen without prompting, the screen would come on and stay on until the battery drained down, it wouldn't put spaces in my emails or texts (bless my friends for.tollerating.two.straight.weeks.of.conversations.that.looked.like.this.all.the.time...).

It dried out right around the time we had a near tornado (well, it sure felt like it) in my neighbourhood pouring buckets of water through my open living room window and onto my computer. That took another couple of days to dry out. (I would add a photograph here to show you how extreme the weather was but read on to technical difficulty number three and you'll see why I didn't)

Now, with my computer up and running and my BlackBerry with spaces a-plenty, my internet and cable have gone out in my apartment.

I do a fair amount of work at home at night that requires me to use the internet and without the addition of this ridiculous inconvenience, my work is sucking right now. Huge. I am trying and trying and getting nowhere fast in the biggest month of our year. My boss is on me relentlessly about my lack of success making me more miserable than I would normally be about the situation.

And so I am reduced to doing my on-line work at my local cafe that has wi-fi then the rest at home later... Of course having said that, I should be working right now but look what I am doing...

I find when I feel bombarded by coincidences like this, events over which I have little or no control but which have defined and sometimes profound impact on my day-to-day existence, it's easy to get dragged down by the undertow of problems. And I admit, I am certainly more sensitive to the pokes and jabs that I get these days... And I'm getting plenty of them too...

But what is making a far greater impact, what is helping me glide through this turmoil feeling relatively unscathed is the support and kindness of the people around me. Even as I am writing this, I received a text from a co-worker reminding me that my colleagues all know how hard I am working and don't let the boss get me down. Such a simple thing but that is exactly what allows me to get back up tomorrow and face the day with genuine optimism and hope.

And an umbrella just in case.

Mental Merry-Go-Round

2008-06-10T18:41:00.003-04:00

I’m trying to figure out how I’m feeling today. I think I’m fine. But at moments I think maybe not. But not that I’m not fine, just not quite normal. But that’s just the day, I think.

This is why I’m so ambivalent.

Today would have been my 20th anniversary if my husband and I had stayed together. We have been separated for two and a half years now but dates like this one have a way of staying in my consciousness whether I want them to or not. And so there it is… floating around my head… June 10th… 20th Anniversary…. Ooooh.

When I was living with my husband he used to joke that if we were still together on our 20th (note the “if” even back then) we should either renew our vows or get divorced (in literary terms, I believe this is called foreshadowing… ha!). I have not submitted divorce papers and to the best of my knowledge neither has he, but the day isn’t over yet.

So I guess I am wondering if I should be feeling worse than I do? Or better? I’m really feeling nothing more than a sense of awareness, certainly with an underlying note of sadness. But not regret. And I suppose that is why I’m not worse off than I thought I might be as this date came closer and closer.

Honestly, I’m feeling worse about posting this round-in-circles blog that really confirmed nothing more than my own confusion.

Maybe I’ll go do something decisive… That will make me feel better. I will… I will….

I will take myself out for dinner and cocktails and celebrate today for what it is now, not what it once was.

SATC.... WTF???

2008-06-08T12:37:00.002-04:00

I apologize in advance to my male readers (I know you’re out there, we’ve spoken… don’t be shy). This blog entry may, at first glance seem more relevant to my female readers but hopefully you will carry on for the few minutes to see if there isn’t something in here you can relate to…

Last night I went to see the “Sex and the City” movie with my girlfriends. Before you anxiously jump ahead in the hopes of a spoiler or stop reading entirely in fear of one, I assure you… no such reveal is forthcoming.

The theatre was not even one-quarter full and of the few seats that were occupied only five men, to my best count, were in them. I admit it, no big surprise there. And in surveying the few men joining us, it was my estimation they were on maybe a second date… third or fourth tops. And they frequently got up to get drinks, go to the washroom, anything to ease their own pain. Good on you, guys. “A” for effort. Having said that, my girlfriends and I were anxious to see what the next chapter for Carrie and the girls held. What’s next?

As I said before, I will reveal none of what happens to the gals in this two and a half hour dramedy but I will tell you this… Samantha celebrates her 50^th birthday. Fifty. How on earth did that happen? The problem with joining our old friends four years later is that they, like all of us, have gotten older. And I’m not sure I liked that part.

I know we all are aging. I sure know I am… As I sit here with my glasses on so I can actually read what I am writing, I know very well I am getting older. I know it every time I tell people how old my “children” are… 17, 19 and 24. How did that happen?

But as I sat in the theatre and the lights dimmed, I was unprepared for the fact that while I was getting older in reality so too were my SATC friends in the fantasy world Hollywood had created for them. Their problems reflected my own and those of my friends. There was no sense of escapism in this story on this night (with, I admit, the notable exception of the fashion… oh my goodness the fashion!!).

We are at this point in our lives (speaking for myself really but I’ll lump you in with me if you don’t mind) who we are going to be. There can always of course, be twists and turns… in fact you can usually count on it. We can chose different paths and accept or reject what we have built for ourselves but our selves, I think, are defined. And in that definition comes the clarity of what you can and cannot allow for yourself. And in that clarity and surety of self comes the ability to accept nothing less.

But that’s just me thinking.

So, I’m not sure what to do with all that. Probably nothing at all. Maybe later on today I’ll mix myself a cosmopolitan and think some more… In my highest of high heels…

Good Dog...

2008-06-07T10:24:00.004-04:00

It is a spectacular weekend here in southwestern Ontario... The sun is shining, the temperature is warm and climbing, the breeze is blowing gently, the forecast is more of the same for the whole weekend giving us our first real taste of the summer that is ahead of us. And as I sip my coffee and talk with the collective "you," I am surrounded by sounds... Lawn mowers whizzing... birds chirping and dogs barking in the background. Dogs.

I love dogs and for most of my life I have been a dog owner, sometimes of more than one. When I was a little girl we had dauchands... Don't bother with your criticisms, I have heard them all. "That's not a dog." "What's that, a wiener on legs?" I know, I know. But for a little girl with little courage or self-esteem, it was the perfect dog I thought. Ours was named Dunkel (German for dark... I have no idea where that came from being of Irish descent) and we had him for years until he passed and we got Dunkel 2.

After I left home it was a few years before I enjoyed the company of a dog again but once our children had arrived and we had settled into what could loosely be called a routine (very loosely), we had dogs steadily. There was Porsche the dalmatian (my advice on owning dalmations is just don't unless you really know what you are getting yourself into) who we ended up giving to a widow on a farm who knew dalmatians and was thankful for the company she provided. After Porsche, there was Fred (yes, the choice of name was significant). We had gone from a pure bred to a wonderful, happy mut and wanted his name to be as simple as possible. Fred was my boy and he was a great dog (if you could forgive him the habit of bolting out the door and down the street at every opportunity, which I could because I loved him). Soon after came Wilma, a black lab who Parker found by accident. And a perfect accident it was because she fit into our home and our lives perfectly. But Wilma was most definitely my husband's dog and she was devoted to him.

When Fred finally passed at the ripe old age of 13 I waited a while to try to get used to him not being around but found I couldn't. So I started the search for another family member to join us. I ended up finding Bugg, a boston terrier, pug cross whose personality was much bigger than his little size conveyed. And he was my boy again. When my husband and I separated, in the continued efforts to keep things as "normal" for everyone as possible, the dogs too, stayed at the house. I wasn't sure what my schedule was going to be like and at the time, my apartment would not allow pets.

That changed, unfortunately right around the time that Bugg died from a very unfortunate but pug-typical malady. I was, again, heartbroken and I am, again, wondering about getting a dog. Or a pet. Or something.

It's times like this, when all is quiet except the sounds of the world outside my doors and windows that I most want to have someone or something to talk to. I am not a cat person... I have nothing against cats, I don't dislike them... I just believe you are either a cat person or a dog person and I am a dog person.

So I have been looking at animal shelters, here in my home town and on-line to see who is out there needing someone to come rescue them. I don't want to rush this and I really don't want to bring a dog into my home when things might be changing, as they might be...

But I will keep looking and when the time is right, I will find him or her and she will find me.

'Til then, maybe a goldfish.

Je Me Souviens...

2008-06-04T18:57:00.002-04:00

One of the things I enjoy about my job is the people I get to meet day in and day out. Being in sales, you just never know who you’ll run into and the sunshine they bring into your life. Of course, not all is flowers and rainbows… for example there was the fellow yesterday who told me to leave and send someone else back in to talk with him because he doesn’t do business with women. Ya, you can imagine how well that went over with me.

But that is most definitely the exception rather than the rule… more often than not, I get to spend time with lovely people like Susan today, who chatted with me about a trip she had taken a few years back to Paris and surrounding area. It brought to mind my own trip to Paris I had taken years ago…

As it turns out, many years ago. When I left Susan, I sat in my car and thought back…. Could it be that trip was 11 years ago now? Yes it can be and yes it was. I have proof in the photographs I shot of the Eiffel Tower (some of the 12 rolls of film I ran through) , which at that time was counting down the days to the millennium. I can tell you, to the day, when I was there and it was 11 years ago right now.

I traveled there alone… I was married at the time but this was my trip of a lifetime that I had always wanted to take and received in exchange for my husband taking three weeks in Australia to visit a friend. I have no troubles traveling alone and felt totally comfortable while I was there.

While I was in France, I spent the majority of my time in Paris and took a few days to head down to Provence and spend time in Nice. It was an amazing trip that made me fall in love with Paris and all the beauty, history, culture and charm it has to offer. Say what you want about the French (and I know lots of people who have lots to say), I respond with “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

When I travel I always write a journal and since I was writing this today, I thought I’d pull the journal of this trip out to refresh my memory of this amazing time in my life.

What I remembered, I remembered well… How “friendly” French men are… I recall taking up the habit of not looking anyone in the eyes because that seemed an invitation for conversation and although I can speak French, responding to pick up lines is not my strong suit. But thanks anyway. I remembered being totally taken aback by the army presence in the main train station, complete with open display of machine guns. I fondly remembered the ease of life, the joy with which meals were enjoyed, the relaxation of reading a paper sitting at one of the many fountains that dotted the city while watching the people pass by.

What had slipped my memory surprised me… The pungent smell of urine that popped up out of nowhere in the subways, the starkness of rabbits and other assorted meats hanging in the markets for the shoppers to take home and prepare for supper that evening. And most of all, the closeness of everything and everyone. Paris does not have the wide open spaces we are spoiled with and enjoy so much here in my home town and other cities I know and visit frequently.

But it is a city of beauty, a city of lights. And some day, one never knows, maybe a city I will call home.

Until then, I have my memories. And I am grateful for them, and for Susan for stirring them in me.

Wisdom from the Bowling Green... Or Someplace

2008-06-01T14:31:00.005-04:00

I was out today on my way to get groceries (that is a story in itself... I have come to believe that you can define a person and the life they live solely by what is in their grocery cart... Mine is the definitive single-gal assortment... cocktail mixes, olives, microwavable dinners and snacks. Done.) when I passed my local tennis club which, on Sundays, is transformed to lawn bowling central.

And what I have noticed about lawn bowlers (I'm sorry for the upcoming stereotyping and welcome anyone who would like to reeducate me) is that they are all of a particular age bracket about a generation past my own. The sight of them all, about twenty or so, smartly dressed in their whites, made me miss my parents.

Not that my parents were lawn bowlers... Just the thought of that makes me laugh. No, far from it. But what I do miss is that parent/child relationship that, even when a dysfunctional one as mine was still for me provided a steady constant of insightful and wise life commentary.

I have now lived almost eight years with out my mother and more of my life has been spent without the support of my father than with it. And there are occasions, like today, where I deeply miss the opportunity to call them up, visit, listen to their stories and apply the lessons they had learned to my own experiences. I miss knowing that there is someone out there who knows me so intimately well that I don't have to explain why I am approaching things in the way I am and with that knowledge, can provide insight into what about me is leading me down this path.

Parents or grandparents (again, which I have none) provide that element of support and wisdom and guidance that cannot be replicated or replaced. Their opinions are sometimes hard to hear because, I think, in having the breadth of knowledge of your existence that only parents and grandparents can have, they are generally bang on in their assessments while at the same time having the boldness that age provides them in really not caring how delicately (translate not at all) they frame their thoughts. They are truth stripped naked. Take it or leave it. But even in their most harsh of criticism is the core, the seed of love from which the desire to help has sprouted.

And that is what I miss. As a parent and a friend and a co-worker I find myself often in the position of providing whatever wisdom (don't take that too literally) I have gained to offer alternatives for individuals seeking help. In taking on a role of supporter there always, at some point or other, comes a time when that the person giving support needs some as well.

Maybe I'll join a lawn bowling league.

Quit laughing.... It could happen.

Hoping for Resolution

2008-05-29T21:27:00.003-04:00

My home town is on the verge of crisis, I fear.

It is a crisis that has been brewing for years, decades, generations but it is a crisis that, to me seems to be put on fast-forward based solely on the actions of my elected officials. Having said that, the majority of people who seem to have collectively pushed the fast-forward button on this crisis did not get my vote (and believe me, I voted). And yet, there they sit in their positions of authority blatantly and irresponsibly acting in a way that my vote cried out against.

I am blessed to live in a beautiful little town (well, it seems little to me but we are now 95,000 strong I believe) sitting on a wonderful river, the Grand. I cannot, I am ashamed to say, tell you in detail how my community came to be exactly or the exact origins of the current dispute but I can tell you it was the result of our government of the day deciding that the land they gave to Mohawk leader Joseph Brant (his true Mohawk name Thayendanegea) was actually his to sell and thereby create a trust for his people and their futures. It is a dispute that has been brewing since the late 1700's and is approaching a boiling point now.

As I have said, I know little about the details of the history of what has brought us here, but I know enough to know that what is happening now is wrong.

As an aside, a friend of mine is the most intelligent expert on this issue that I have the privilege of knowing... if you are interested in knowing more, he is always happy to share ideas and information. You can find Chris Friel at http://www.frielspiel.blogspot.com/

After over 200 years of failed negotiations and attempts at resolution, our Six Nations neighbours seem to have lost faith in the desire of any level of government to settle this issue. And after over 200 years, can you blame them? Regardless of how you feel about this issue or how it should be resolved, surely 200 years is more than ample time to figure it out... do the right thing. So now there are protests at land development sites dotting our city. At about three or four sites a handful of Six Nations protesters have been successful in halting progress, creating a great stir in the halls of our city leaders. They have been successful in doing this in peaceful and non-aggressive shows of discontent. They have threatened nothing except to remain resolute in their commitment to their cause.

And what has my city leaders' collective reaction been? Take the protesters to court. Sue them. Threaten to bring in the army to deal with "potential" violence.

I don't know a lot, but I know that this is no way to resolve anything. I know that this is not what I chose when I exercised the blessing of my right to vote. I know that I am ashamed that this is how I am represented, how I am painted as a member of this community.

I love my home town but I am hanging my head these days and praying that someone in authority will set aside ego in the interest of our future, peace and harmony.

Wake Up Call

2008-05-25T11:29:00.003-04:00

One of the things I love best about weekend mornings, particularly ones like today, is the few perfect moments of time before you actually come to full consciousness and make your decision to start your day.

My apartment, as I have said before, is on the third floor of a century old apartment building and luckily for me, has no neighbours close enough really to peer in my windows. Being lucky that way, only one of my rooms has window coverings... my bedroom. I enjoy the abundance of natural light that pours into my space during the day and there is no view I want to block out by covering it with curtains or blinds.

But I love to sleep in. I love going to bed knowing that the only wake up call that will impact me in any way is the natural one that happens outside my window. So the curtains that are on my bedroom window are dark and long and hold off the light of morning until I am well prepared to face a new day.

We are enjoying a beautiful spring weekend here in my little corner of Ontario and so last night before I lay my head down, I opened my window up wide, shut the dark curtains and crawled into my soft bed to give in to my exhaustion. I let sleep take me by the hand and happily it did not let go until late morning.

In that moment of perfection, as my mind and body began to stir but before my eyes were ready to join in facing the day, I began to focus on the sounds of spring outside my window... the birds singing, grass being cut nearby and far off children laughing and calling out instructions for their Sunday morning games. And as I rolled myself slowly over to face the window beside my bed, wrapped myself more tightly in the blankets that held me, my eyes finally slowly opened to the blurred vision of the curtains lapping up beside my bed, carried by the spring breezes that were bringing sweet smells and freshness into me. They grazed lightly over me to gently coax me to join the day. Light in the room grew and receded as they danced in the air.

And as they continued their gentle wake-up call, and as the light continued to grow in my room I drew myself up out of bed and began another day that could only be fantastic after waking up like that.

Getting Ready

2008-05-20T19:41:00.002-04:00

Funny how things work out sometimes, don't you think?

Just when I have clicked into a new level of personal awareness and readiness for next steps, I have been thrown a couple of curve balls. Nothing earth shattering although when they were passing swiftly by my head, they felt pretty bad but no direct hits, I guess... I mean I am still here after all. But just when I have steeled myself for the challenge of changing directions, lo and behold my energies are now diverted to managing these problems that I am facing, that cannot be put off for another day.

And this is what I think of that...

I think this is the universe readying me for what is ahead of me. In my inaction of late, I have become soft... I have forgotten what it's like to feel the challenge of stretching yourself. I've gotten lazy.

So here is my wake up call before the real fun begins. And I am happy to say, bring it on!!

I'm ready.

Spring Cleaning

2008-05-19T20:10:00.005-04:00

First off, I would like to apologize for staying away for so long. I wish I had a good excuse but really, not so much. Life has been pretty much the same and aside from an annoying problem with my car, a ridiculously funny prank played on me by my coworkers (when you least expect it, I will exact my revenge... mwah ha haaa!) and finally, finally getting my clothes switched for the seasons, things have been ordinary.

But as the last remnants of a long holiday weekend slip through my fingers I have come to a bit of a realization and I thought I'd share that with you.

I love a long weekend and even if the weather is uncooperative, as it has been on this one, it still offers ample opportunity to do things differently... change up your routine... find a different perspective. And that is just what has happened to me.

It has been a bit of a progression of late... I can tell you, and often have, that I have felt out of sorts for a while; that things have not felt right and as I struggled to find a reason why, something to point to as a source of my discontent, a thing to change, it occurred to me to change the one thing I have complete and total control over. Me.

I have, over time, become less of who I know myself to be. In my effort to get myself through the challenges of starting life over, I have forgotten the most basic of all lessons... Trust your gut. And be brave. I haven't been doing either of those things for a while and in turning my back on who I truly am I have made mistakes, strayed down paths that were not right for me and worst of all, hurt people I love. In my fear of further loss I have made bad judgments and done things that do nothing to bring myself or anyone I love or care about closer to happiness.

Well that's enough of that. I am not about to say that I will not make more mistakes because knowing myself as well as I do, I can tell you that making mistakes is something I am very good at. I'm just usually not so slow to correct my path. But correct it I will. Day by day and deed by deed.

And I'll share that journey with you as well. Thank you for sticking around.

Number Three

2008-05-12T21:24:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was Mother's Day and my sons celebrated in a way that gave me much to smile about...

First and most important, they all told me they loved me. Lots. And that was the best gift of all (ok, I know how corny that is but as their mom, trust me it is the absolute truth).

Second, recognizing that nothing has quite been the same since their dad and I separated we, as we did last year, did something entirely different and not-too Mother's Days-y. Just as I like it.

We went to see the new Harold & Kumar movie. Now, before you judge me (and I know some of you out there are) remember my youngest son is 17 now... hardly a child. And I feel we have a pretty comfortable relationship where we can tolerate the occasional dose of questionable content. My oldest son, who is 24, was a bit more reticent about going to see it with his mom, but conceded that we would probably have a good laugh and agreed to the whole, twisted plan.

And so, they gave me a dvd version of the first Harold & Kumar movie and (which we watched in preparation for the afternoon matinee) and off we went.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I think it was during the scene in Guantanamo Bay where our protagonists (I know, that is pretty generous) were awaiting with dread a visit from Big Bob that my oldest leaned across to me and said (I'm paraphrasing here in the hopes that this doesn't get flagged as inappropriate content, but really... It's Harold & Kumar for crying out loud) "I can't believe I'm watching a movie with c0@&-sandwich with my mom." If you don't know what I'm saying there, consider yourself lucky.

But watch we did and laugh and enjoy. Inappropriate or not.

And then, at the end of the movie Harold recites a poem he wrote while in college... (spoiler alert... don't read any farther if you don't want to know what it says). Here it is...

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

Having felt like a number three most of my life and especially now, the idea that there is another number three out there to match my lonely root is a sweet, comforting thought. If my boys have at any points in their lives felt like number threes as well, and I'm pretty sure they have, I hope it gave them a positive message along with the laughs. And besides, that's a pretty good message to share with your sons.

From Mom

2008-05-10T16:05:00.003-04:00

As a mother on the day before the day dedicated to women like myself world wide, I can't help but think about the lessons imparted upon me by my mother and what I have tried to teach my boys.

Now let me begin by saying that my mother and I never ever had a warm relationship. Either of them actually. I am adopted and spent my first two years moving from foster home to foster home before my birth mother decided to relinquish her connection to me, freeing me for adoption. At that time I was placed in the home that came to be my family and in permanent connection to Shirley, my adoptive mother. I can recall once being hugged by her and never remember her telling me she loved me. I struggled for a long time with the impact this relationship had on me and have worked hard and dug deep to find the warmth and love within myself that should have been shown to me by her so I could give it to my boys.

But despite that, I know there are lessons she taught me. Shirley taught me:

- that no matter what, no man has a right to hit you
- how to make a fantastic macaroni and cheese from scratch
- that if you can read, you can cook and there is nothing more intimidating about it than that
- that I deserve better (unfortunately back then I didn't listen to this one)
- that when you walk, hold your head up high and pull your shoulders back

That's about all I can tell you, but that is enough for me. And there are some pretty big lessons in there.

As for my relationship with my boys, I hope I have given them lessons that will carry them well, equip them with tools they will need to lead happier lives. Here is a random sampling of what I've wanted my boys to learn:

- don't throw garbage out of the car, onto the ground or anywhere except an appropriately designated receptacle (and that does not include your bedroom floor)
- show your love... show it as often as you can, tell them, hug them because you never know when you'll get a chance to do it again
- don't be limited by geography, the world is yours (they seem to have listened to this one, unfortunately I didn't anticipate how hard it would be on me when they took me up on that piece of advice but I'm so glad it sunk in)
- you don't have to be married or have children but being loved is a wonderful thing... cherish it when it happens
- wipe the seat... please!!!
- give back in whatever way you can
- your words of kindness will be remembered so much longer than you ever imagine... so will your words of hostility
- violence is never the answer... never
- if you can read you can cook, it's no more intimidating than that (yes, this was a good one)
- you deserve to be treated well, if the person makes you sad more than they make you happy, you deserve better
- don't stick your gum under the table... seriously!

I don't know if my boys will take all these or any of the other lessons I tried to share along with them in their lives. I hope at least they'll take the one that I tried to instill in them every single day... that their mom loves them no matter what. And to know you are loved, no matter what, is a good good thing I think.

In the Hope for Better Days

2008-05-08T11:02:00.003-04:00

These are strange days it seems.

For a while now I’ve been commenting on how off-centre I’ve been feeling; describing my struggle to find a sense of balance where I wasn’t constantly feeling so lost and alone.

Coincidentally, I also noticed my new wayward duck neighbour who is still delighting me with his presence (no sign of friends or partners for my poor feathered friend I’m afraid, though). But although it seems all of this is unrelated and arbitrary, I am finding further evidence that this is not the case.

There seems to be some sort of cosmic misalignment happening. Or maybe a cosmic realignment. Who knows?

This is what else is contributing to my theory… Very recently three friends of mine have announced endings of significant relationships. Marriages for some and long-term partnerships for others. Now, by no means am I suggesting that any of these developments are the absolute conclusion of the relationship involved, but it is certainly the status currently. Also, I have other friends facing other personal challenges and difficulties that are wearing at their abilities to be optimistic and see any hope for a brighter day coming.

And my heart aches for all of them. Having gone through this agonizing exercise of ending a relationship, to my own conclusion which was right for me, I empathize with their senses of loss and being lost. It saddens me to witness any of my friends going through such challenging times, however they have found themselves there and from wherever the source. It is hugely frustrating to know there is nothing that can be done to ease their pain.

But I have faith that each of them will find their own way; do what is needed to take care of everyone involved. I know that this road is not always an easy one and I will let them know I am here to walk beside them if they need company.

And I will tell them what I believe to be true… each of them is deserving of happiness and although it may not seem evident right now, that happiness will come. Brighter days are on their way. I will be here for those days too, to laugh in the sunshine and be grateful for the end of the storm.

The Pond Next Door

2008-05-06T19:31:00.004-04:00

I live on the third floor of a century old apartment building; my apartment looks out back on a big dirt lot (which was once supposed to be condos but I'm not sure what happened there) then to the city and beyond. Out my side window I look out to residential backyards.

It is a very nice, old neighbourhood where the residents take good care of their lawns, and lucky for me any everyone passing by, great pride in their gardens. A couple of the back yards away from me, but in plain sight is a pool. And I have noticed over the past few days that a mallard duck has claimed the pool as his own private pond for swimming.

Now not being a pool owner I am delighted with this development; I'm not sure if I'd be so happy if it were my pool. I'm sure the presence of this duck implies all kinds of cleaning and sanitary concerns that as a distant observer have no bearing on my perception of the situation. I just got a such a kick out of finding this visitor from the country here in the city.

He is there regularly. I see him in the mornings usually and as I am writing this at my desk, I can turn to look out my window and see him paddling around now as the sun sets behind him.

And I ask myself... does he know he's not in a pond? Is he aware that his welcome extends probably only from the neighbours and certainly not from the "pond" owner with whom he visits? And what of his kin? Is he lost? Does he care?

Maybe because I'm finding myself a little lost these days I am identifying more than one would consider normal with this wayward duck but I have genuine concern for him. As a kindred spirit off my usual centre of balance, I am hopeful that he finds his way back to the flock. Or at least to another duck to paddle around with.

But I will miss him when he goes.

Dinner With the Sister

2008-05-04T20:21:00.004-04:00

I had dinner at my sister's tonight. That may not sound like an event of note but in my family, with my background it's nothing short of astounding.

We grew up, the two of us, in unusual circumstances. Circumstances not conducive to positive emotional or spiritual growth. Circumstances that left their marks, not pleasant ones, on each of us. Marks that we have carried in different ways but that have changed the course of our respective lives none the less.

It has been almost eight years since my sister and I had anything that could even generously speaking be called a relationship. The last conversation I remember having with her was at the graveside of our mother and that did not go well. But we are trying to forge a new relationship based on new common ground now, eight years later. I wish I could tell you it is because of my initiative but it is not. If it had been left to me, she and I would still not be talking and I would have carried on feeling quite fine with that.

But she took the initiative, she felt the need to mend fences, bandage old wounds and try to move forward. And I commend her for that. Especially when faced with the trepidation that I have expressed as we have been going through this process.

It is not easy by any stretch and it is at times ridiculously awkward when you consider we lived together in the same home for years. But that is what it's like now and it eases just a bit each time we meet. Tonight I went to her home to have dinner with her and her husband. We talked a lot of small talk and kept things light which was fine by me. And then in the middle of setting the table we stumbled on the ultimate common denominator... the one topic that we could discuss without dredging up any painful memories or hurt feelings. The Partridge Family.

She immediately brought out her complete set of Partridge Family collector cards and we reminisced on how much we loved David Cassidy then and now and forever more while we listened to "I Think I Love You" on her Partridge Family cd (my sister has a few minor eccentricities). She suggested we could even sing along (I on the other hand am more inclined, as I suggested, to crank it up and get up and dance) so in the interest of common ground, we sat at the dinner table, to her husband's great chagrin, and sang with them.

I think the thing with old wounds is that sometimes you just need to cut away all the scar tissue and try to let the new growth come through. It's not going to look the same but it's better than being bound up by the pain.

Blessed to Be a Witness

2008-05-03T21:01:00.004-04:00

I had the pleasure of having brunch today with my oldest son and his girlfriend. I was pleasantly surprised last night to receive a text from her inviting me and I happily responded yes.

I don't often get an opportunity to just hang out with the two of them and I was really looking forward to it. I love just hanging with my boys in different combinations for different reasons.

I love hanging with them individually by themselves because it gives me a chance to talk with them without the influence of their brothers on them and the natural bravado and showmanship that results when they are together. It's when I think I can best see the man they have become and when I can most easily find the little boy they once were.

I love hanging with them all together because it gives me such joy to sit back and just watch them play off one another. I think my boys have a wonderful, close relationship with each other and I think it has even grown stronger now that it is faced with the challenge of one of them living half a world away. They challenge and push each other to be stronger and support each other when that strength is faltering. I am happy for their closeness.

And I love hanging with my sons and their girlfriends. But that has not always been the case.

Right now, only my oldest son has a girlfriend (at least he is the only one who is at a state of his relationship to tell me he has one and brave enough to hang out with mom and the girlfriend at the same time).

There have been other girlfriends who I haven't been quite so enthusiastic to spend time with and I could tell you some funny stories (now that the relationships are long in the past) like the one who in her first conversation with me on the phone told me to get my son's "lazy ass out of bed." Yeah, that one didn't go well. I tried, honestly I did (although I am very certain the involved son would argue that point). But here is the thing... I find it very hard to be warm and open with a person who seems to not value my son for all that he is. Now don't get me wrong... I am well aware that my sons, like me, like all humans are flawed. I get that. But if a person is in a relationship with someone I feel that each of the people involved should feel the best of themselves when they are together and I think it's pretty obvious when that is not the case.

And what I see when my son and his girlfriend are together now is that he is happy. He smiles and laughs. She sees his flaws and accepts them as unique pieces of his character. He has a happiness that, as a parent, you want your children to have as adults.

I don't know where this relationship will go but I am glad he is experiencing it because I believe he is better for it. And I am blessed to be a witness.

Saying Goodbye

2008-05-02T15:55:00.004-04:00

Today was the last day of work for one of my colleagues at my office. He has been with our company for over seven years and has worked the last two in sales, specifically out of the office I have been at since my start with the company a year ago. In that time together, we have competed twice for the same promotion, once with neither of us succeeding and once with him succeeding. Both times we went into the process wishing each other luck and honestly truly meaning it. I could not have been happier for him when he was given this last promotion and we went out and celebrated together.

He is my buddy. He is the guy I can go to when I have no idea what I am doing (which is frighteningly often) and know he is going to have good advice. He is the guy who always has a positive word to share with me. He has great insight into business and specifically the business we are in.

He also a remarkably entertaining collection of stories; stories that, if you didn't know better would have you swearing that they came from some sit-com that you saw once years ago. If something unique or unusual is going to happen to someone, it's going to happen to him and he will share the story with anyone inclined to listen... and they will be the lucky one receiving the gift of the tale. I can't count the number of times we have all sat around listening to him regale us with an adventure (often turning quickly into a misadventure) while all of us were holding our sides, tears coming to our eyes from laughing so hard.

But my friend ended his career at my company today and I am sad. I could always count on him to second my nomination of hotdogs for lunch. Always. And that's saying something because I can eat hotdogs for lunch with freakish regularity.

We went out for hotdogs one last time yesterday and beers last night to say goodbye. The whole sales team joined in the cocktail hour and we all made our notations of what we will miss most about him.

I miss him already but I'm pretty sure I'll see him at the hotdog stand once in a while. In fact, I'll make sure of it! Good friendships are too precious to let slide away.

I Grieve

2008-05-01T19:08:00.004-04:00

Have you ever felt so confused that it seems you just aren't sure which way is up?

I am a former SCUBA diver (haven't been in more than a decade but I have some pretty cool shots, I think) and I remember when I was learning how to dive I was told if I ever get disoriented, watch the directions of the bubbles escaping my mask and they will point me to the way home. That lesson and the related analogies that I have used over the years has served me well. Until now.

I feel very off kilter. I can't for the life of me, find the bubbles to show me the way to the surface. And until I can do that, I have a fear of drowning, suffocating for lack of oxygen right here where I'm at... which is not a great place by any means.

I heard a great line in one of my favourite songs the other day... The song is "I Grieve" by Peter Gabriel and I have always loved it for its haunting beauty and honesty of message. Give it a listen some day.

But at the very end of the song is a line, a line that until this week I had missed (yet again, that funny thing karma gives you messages when you need to hear them I guess)... Peter sings:

"Did I dream this belief or did I believe this dream?"

That's where I'm at right now. I am thinking the things that I had convinced myself were true were really just pretty pictures I had painted for myself to accept what I wasn't ready to face. That the reality I have spent ages wanting is really just a figment of my imagination.

So here I am trying to face this reality that I have spent ages convincing myself didn't exist. It's a scary thing. A lonely thing.

But I will find relief. I grieve.

Karma Works... Again

2008-04-29T19:19:00.004-04:00

Sometimes signs just pop up and slap you in the head as if to say, "wake up, would ya?"

I was working on my blog post which was about whether you believe someone's words or actions when such a sign popped up and gave me a swift kick in the behind. Here is how the blog started...

"I have always believed that we are given the same lesson over and over again until we have it well learned and are able to either pass it along to someone else or apply the learning to better our own lives. My current challenge that I am facing in three separate but remarkably similar areas of my life right now is I'm never sure whether to believe a person's words or deeds. If a person is telling you something over and over again, repeating the same unaltered message with apparent commitment and honesty but in actions seems to convey the exact opposite message, which are you to believe? It's like when someone tells you yes as they shake their head no. The conviction of the person delivering the message, the sincerity of the delivery, don't those things mean something? Shouldn't they be taken with the same weight as the actions that either precede or follow? Or is it merely a case of hearing what we want or need to hear? And then having the actions there to back up the underlying fear of what we know to be true."

So this is how my blog started and in the middle... right there... one of the individuals I was referring to actually confirmed the actions I was trying to overlook with the words I didn't want to hear. If that's not a sign I don't know what is.

Karma, as they say, works. Lesson learned.

Boys Will Be Boys?

2008-04-27T19:00:00.003-04:00

I have mentioned before I have three sons (at the risk of dating myself very badly here I admit I always hear the "My Three Sons" theme song playing in my head when I speak of my boys collectively). I call them my boys because despite the fact that they are all, by law at least, adults they will be my boys until the day I depart this earth.

So with this being Sunday I was blessed with a visit from two of them today. My third, the middle boy lives in Germany (a story I will share another day... each of these young men is worthy of a story and then some) but my oldest (at 24 years), his fantastic girlfriend and my youngest (18 years) joined me for an afternoon of nothing and everything.

Today after just hanging for a while we engaged in an avid game of Trivial Pursuit (yeah for me.... just by virtue of age alone one would think I have an advantage). So as we bantered about trivial issues and argued obscure cultural references I was struck, yet again, by how my sons communicate with each other.

From my experience, boys communicate in a very different way than girls and certainly brothers take that difference to an extreme. Now please know, I am not so stupid to not realize there are miles of library shelves, piles of university theses extolling in great detail the differences in the way the sexes communicate. I know I know. Mars Venus for crying out loud. But as a mother it is a remarkably difficult thing to watch. And accept.

Boys are tough on each other. Rough in their references, harsh in their criticism and unforgiving in their judgments. I have had this conversation with male friends of mine and it seems to be true of male to male friendships as well as with brothers. Boys become their own harshest critics to toughen each other up, make each other stronger but all the while knowing when one of their posse is challenged they will fight to the death to defend each other (melodramatic, I know but you get my point).

And so it is with my boys. The insults and criticisms fly with unrelenting swiftness punctuated with occasional comments from me to "be nice... brotherly love... hey! that's my son you're talking about!" I have for years tried to curb this behaviour, for years to no avail. I have come closer to not feeling hurt each time one of these criticisms is flung with such determination towards a boy I have spent my life trying to protect from pain and hurt but it's a hard thing to observe. But what I also know in my heart is that they have a deep respect and love for each other (they will never forgive me if they ever read this) and that is what I keep telling myself as they go through this demented ritual. So I try to sit back, try to relax and let them be.

But the whole time, over and over in my head is playing, "can't we all just get along?" Honestly.

Saturdays and Possibilities

2008-04-26T09:42:00.004-04:00

One of the great things I love about the beginning of the weekend (and we can debate when exactly that starts) is that it holds a thousand possibilities.

For me, Friday afternoon and evening is all about celebrating the good things that happened in the work week if, hopefully, that was what the week was like or about shaking off the negative in the hopes of a better day. This week was pretty evenly balanced for good and bad but an unexpected bombshell at work on Friday made me think more of the negative than the positive. So, in an effort to shake it off, I kept myself busy last night and will continue to do so today... maybe not so much tomorrow.

The weekend here in Brantford has a forecast of cool weather, showers today and maybe again tomorrow. This, in my mind, opens two doors of possibility.

If I had someone with me, here to be with me, I would more than likely not be writing this. I would have rolled over in bed and snuggled in for a bit more rest. I would get up and make us coffee, grab the papers return with a little Saturday bed feast. Not the same as the Sunday bed feast of course because Sunday is all about relaxation while Saturday usually has a to-do list. So with coffee, maybe some biscotti or toast and an easy read of the papers we could start our day. I would grab a few things out on errands, and return with movies, snacks and a selection of take-out menus. The rest of the day, as any inclement weather day should be when you can spend it with the one you love, would be speckled with puttering around, falling into relaxed, comforting naps and debating over Thai or Mexican for dinner (my vote is Thai).

But I don't have someone with me, here with me, so I my day will look a little different. I will get my errands done but I'll also get done an assortment of other little tasks that I have been putting off for a rainy day. Sewing buttons on coats and shirts, tidying my second bedroom, cleaning the kitchen cupboards... you know what I mean.

I might still grab a nap in there somewhere but it will be alone and less comforting.

Or I might scrap that whole plan and do something entirely different... I figure I'm due for a mini run-away-from-home adventure. Have you ever done that? Left in the morning with absolutely no plan except that you won't return until night? Or maybe even the next day? I do that once in a while and I'm feeling due. Unfortunately, the weather is a little uncooperative so I think I will hold off for another day on that one.

I will keep myself busy to keep the demons of negative thought at bay.

And I will leave the door open to any other possibilities that come my way.

Ranting about Hockey & Politics

2008-04-24T22:53:00.004-04:00

I am feeling like a rant... well, I guess more accurately, I feel like ranting. And this being my first blog-rant, I think it may be short and poorly argued, but I'm going to give it a try anyway.

I went to an event in my city's downtown tonight celebrating the national championship win of our local professional hockey team (no, it's not NHL but it's good hockey and this is Canada). Now, I need to state clearly one point to start off so there are no preconceptions of hockey-fan superiority.

I love live sports but I know very little about the rules of any game in particular. Love watching a live hockey, baseball, football or basketball (used to be a season ticket holder but that's another blog and another rant for another day) game. Love it. Love the atmosphere... appreciate the athleticism... enjoy the sense of camaraderie of supporting the local guys with your community neighbours. Love it. And I don't think that just because I don't know what every call means (ok, I don't know what most calls mean) makes my level of enjoyment diminished in any way.

So tonight I was invited by friends to attend this celebration of our local hockey team. My friends are true fans. They attended home games as well as away games. They know all the players' names, family members, ages, marital statuses and probably a lot more than that... They love our team.

I, on the other hand, went to one game this year. The semi-final game which I enjoyed immensely... even more because I was in the company of my true-fan friends.

At the event tonight were lots of folks... young fans and old, many wearing team jerseys of their favourite players. And as I surveyed the crowd I was proud of my community, that we were hosting this little party and I was happy to be in such a dedicated crowd. Until my gaze settled on the political section of the gathering.

There, in the midst of the admittedly modest throng of fans, were our three governmental representatives. Local, provincial and federal. All smiling. All looking proud of their accomplishments (huh??). And all wearing jerseys with their own names on the backs.

I was incensed. I was standing with true, genuine, proud fans. Fans who volunteered to help at the tournament because they couldn't afford to attend all the games. True fans. True fans who would never see their names on the backs of their favourite team's jersey.

Now, not having attended the season's worth of games my friends did, I can't tell you if our local political representatives were in regular attendance, but my guess is they were there, as I was, for the home stretch. The critical difference being, they were more than happy to accept the designation of team player for this public, well-attended event.

If one or all three of these gentlemen were in regular attendance, my hat is off to you. My hockey stick is raised in solute. If you spent your money (no... not from your governmental office, not from the party coffers, not as a guest of a constituent), your own family money on attending regularly than I declare myself corrected and thank you for reading. Go ahead. Prove me wrong. Nothing would please me more.

I have been a part of the crazy game of politics on many levels over a long time. I've sat on regional party boards, worked on municipal, provincial and federal campaigns. I understand the game of politics pretty well I think. But that certainly doesn't mean I agree with it all the time because more and more lately, I really just don't.

I wish my political representatives, instead of donning the jersey for the photo op tonight, provided it for a draw from season ticket holders to have their name emblazoned on the back.

At least then the jersey might again see the light of day.

Rites of Spring

2008-04-24T15:34:00.003-04:00

As I continue on my journey of being renewed and refreshed by the change of season, I am repeatedly surprised by simple little things.

Surprised that, having lived my whole life in this climate where we are fortunate to see the seasons turn and the earth change her coat four times every year, I am still taken aback by little things that happen every single year.

For example, I was recently surprised how cold my knees get when I first venture out with lots of optimism regarding the weather and therefore without any stockings, tights or nylons.

I was surprised by how windy it gets (this year and every other year in memory, now that I think of it) when it seems so sunny and spring-like outside at first glance. The wind is brisk and can still be biting (reference my last point).

I am surprised that my feet still have to get used to the strappy shoes that have been brought happily out of hiding for another year. My feet are as old as I am and you would think they have become accustomed to this annual binding ritual.

Just today alone, I was surprised several times. First, after having put on one of my favourite dresses with a pretty, light-weight wrap skirt that with the smallest gust of wind, I was surprised to be channeling Marilyn Monroe in a desperate attempt to save myself arrest for indecent exposure.

Then, as I was driving along a quiet back road, I was surprised to notice the nasty looking bug that was crawling along my leg. One quick screech (me, not the car), an even faster swipe at my leg and my composure quickly returned.

And finally, after I finished visiting a customer, I was really surprised when I sat myself back down in my car... on my leather seats... that had been sitting with the sun beating down upon them through my open sunroof. Another screech and another adjustment of the previously referenced light-weight skirt and I was able to manage the all-but-forgotten warmth on my butt.

It was not the first time I had experienced any of these simple little harbingers of warmer days, I had experienced each one before, some many many times. But it was the first time this season, this spring in this year. And because of that, because I was able to enjoy the surprise and welcome the newness, that is why I love the adventures that our earth provides us. That is why I could never imagine living in a climate that didn't offer this never-ending gift of change.

We all love a tropical beach (well, at least everyone I know does) but would we love it as much if we never left it? I can't imagine we would.

Today, I love spring. And I will continue loving her exclusively until my friend summer comes along.

Ferris Wheels and Memories

2008-04-22T18:30:00.004-04:00

The funniest thing happened today (not on the way to the forum but funny none-the-less). I was updating my status on Facebook (a happy little task I can perform from my cell phone which gives me no end of pleasure as I get comments and responses from my assortment of Facebook friends) with what, I thought was a unique comment on what I was doing.

If there is anyone out there... anyone at all, who is not aware of how Facebook works, in addition to accumulating friends, applications, groups, fans, messages, pokes as well as countless other seemingly unrelated pieces of information or detail which, when pieced together, weave an interesting portrait of who you are, you can also update your status. It is a short, one-line sentence which lets your friends and observers know what you're up to.

My update went like this:

Sally is... wondering if she can justify riding the ferris wheel all afternoon.

I thought nothing more about it.

If you are wondering why I was wondering such an odd thing on a Tuesday afternoon, I was delightfully surprised to find, right in the middle of my territory, a mini-carnival set up in a mall parking lot. Complete with, amongst many other enticements, candy floss and the aforementioned ferris wheel.

And as I said, once I posted the status update I gave it no more thought. It wasn't long however, before I got my first response questioning a ferris wheel in the middle of the day in the middle of an urban core. Then another. Mid-way through my afternoon, the best question of all came through my in-box.

What's a ferris wheel?

Before you read any further, I challenge you to, off the top of your head, define a ferris wheel. To someone who lives in Sweden. Without speaking Swedish.

Some of the biggest delights I have with my Facebook profile are the new connections I have been fortunate to make with people all over this earth. I have new friends in the UK, Venezuela, Egypt, Denmark, Poland, Norway, South Africa, Germany as well as dotting the United States and my beloved Canada. What a wonderful thing that is! I am blessed with friendships I can't imagine having forged otherwise. And I am blessed to have someone to talk to at just about any hour of the day or night (no small miracle for someone who spends countless hours awake and alone like I do).

And so my challenge of the day was to define a ferris wheel to my Swedish friend. I could use none of the descriptions that immediately came to mind; the place where Danny S. kissed me and I fell hopelessly for him when I was 15 years old... the best place in the world to see the view of the Woodstock Fair... the place where I had to bury my oldest son's face deep in my coat to stop him from screaming when he was a tiny boy, while we rode for what seemed an eternity. So many memories and none would translate.

I muddled through I think, with a lame attempt at describing it visually and making some reference to the Eye of London (it is called the Eye isn't it... if not that would explain why I haven't heard back from my friend).

But I challenge you to come up with your own best ferris wheel memory. I bet you have some that will bring a smile to your face... as mine did to me.

Wishes Granted...

2008-04-21T19:18:00.003-04:00

Well, I am so very happy to report that sometimes you do actually get what you want. Not everything naturally (because not only would that just be too easy but we'd all be bored out of our minds in no time flat so let's agree to keep things interesting).

No sooner had I penned (although I actually wrote it on the computer, penned sounds so much more romantic than keyed) my 'Random Wishes for a Sunday Morning' blog than my oldest son called me to arrange moving the junk etc. off my balcony. I'm pretty sure I squealed in his ear on the phone.

I have a generously sized balcony (at least I think so) and I can easily fit a lounge chair, an Adirondack chair, a dining table to seat four plus a little round table to seat two. Plus a rustic old ladder that I pile with summer books, flowers and pretty little things I like. It's a great little space if I do say so myself and I can tell you I spend more time out there than in any other room (with the exception of my bedroom) during the fair weather months. So of course I was eager to move off all the boxes of Christmas decorations (you have no right to judge me on this one if you have Christmas lights up anywhere in or outside your own home) and my classic old photograph enlarger that were living in that outdoor space waiting for me to transport them to my storage unit (down two flights of stairs and across town to my storage site).

In order for me to accomplish this seemingly daunting task (it seemed plenty daunting to me) I needed two things... A vehicle that would carry more than the two boxes per load my little Malibu was capable of and (this is more of a wish than a need) extra people to share in the up and down and up and down those danged stairs. And as I said, no sooner had I mentioned it in my blog than, lo and behold, my son called to let me know he had, in fact, sorted out the details with his girlfriend and had, of all things, a truck to do the move!

I was giddy.

A short while later I was joined by my youngest son and my oldest son with his girlfriend to start the procession. Although it took two trips still (even with a truck and my car... clearly I have a lot of Christmas stuff especially when you consider the relative smallness of my apartment) we made fast work of clearing my balcony off and returning it to 'usable space' status. And not a moment too soon.

I happily enjoyed my dinner outside tonight and will likely head back out soon with a book and a blanket to enjoy the remainder of the evening.

So even though I was feeling a bit blue yesterday morning while I gazed out my balcony at all of my neighbours busying themselves with lawn and garden work (I really do miss having a garden), I can tell you that my day ended with a very satisfied feeling of having spruced up my own little back yard.

Random Wishes for a Sunday Morning

2008-04-20T11:52:00.004-04:00

This has been another rollercoaster of a weekend for me... having great moments of pure glee and moments of feeling impossibly low. Quite a ride for a couple of short days (well, really a day and a half since we haven't even hit noon on Sunday yet). No wonder I most often start the new week feeling completely and entirely worn out!

I started writing something late last night and ended up erasing the whole darn thing and heading to bed instead. After reading it back to myself I found it to be a meandering line of drivel that even I had trouble following and it was my life, my thoughts. But it certainly reflected the state of turmoil my mind and spirit felt at the time. Maybe erasing it completely was overkill. Oh well. Those are the actions of an unquiet mind and in moments of distress I have been known to act hastily.

So, in an effort to both ease myself back into collected, rational writings while still satisfying my own determination to keep talking with those of you out there who have blessed me with listening (and even talking back to me) I have decided that I will write a list of my wishes for this beautiful Sunday. There are two great thing about lists... First, you need only maintain a connected thought for the length of a short sentence (maybe even less, really) and second it allows you to bounce all over the place. Perfect for a Sunday and an unquiet mind.

And so today, Sunday, April 20th I wish...

... I had someone to share my morning coffee with (for the company most importantly but as well to help me decide if it's time for a new coffeemaker because I really don't think this one is up to my standards anymore)
... my son Corbin was here so I could give him a big, long hug... four months is a long time to go without hugging someone you love
... I could shake the habit of acting hastily when feeling distressed (happily this is one that I can actually work on; I'll keep you posted on how that one goes)
... I could effectively express to those who I love most how much they mean to me and how much I value them (again, something I can work on... also good!)
... I had a convertible (it's sunny and warm and you know how much I love driving on days like this)
... I could work out the details of moving all the junk off my balcony with my two other sons (muscle and large-vehicular assistance) which is seeming less and less likely today (I want my pretty, clean, tidy balcony back... it's sunny and warm, you know)
... I could fast-forward a couple months to find out if I actually win the trip to San Fransisco I'm in the running for at work... I could use a vacation (even a little one)
... I could slow down time to make this Sunday last for a couple of days (I know... a complete contradiction to my last wish; I told you I was disconnected and meandering)
... I could meet the people who are sending me their good wishes and comments from across the miles but I'll have to settle with a big, heart-felt thank you.

That's it for me for now. Except one last thing...

I wish you get all you wish for on this beautiful Sunday.

Friday in the Office

2008-04-18T17:27:00.003-04:00

I am in sales... and today is Friday. And it's spring. And we are having the first stretch of sunny weather we've had this year. Anyone with experience in sales knows what that means. I don't have to say it out loud... don't make me.

So you can imagine my dismay when, the day before yesterday I read the email notice I found in my in-box at work telling me of the on-line training program that was going to be hosted on Friday. At 3:00 pm. And, as an added bonus, the event was being hosted in my office, so everyone in our sales team was, naturally expected to attend in person rather than just on-line like everyone else. You can imagine. And that's before I heard the weather forcast for today.

Right now it's 6:30 pm, sunny and warm. And it's been like this all day.

Now, so you appreciate fully the impact of this kind of demand on me and my colleagues, allow me to further expand on the environment in which I work. It is a medium sized office with a sales team of 11, eight men and three women plus administration and technical support. As a sales team we generally check in once during the day, usually first thing in the morning or at the end of the day, but other than that we are out and about... masters of our own destinies. We travel where we need to and break when we need. We meet up for coffees some days, have lunch together others and sometimes don't even see one another. But we are a cohesive team and we have a lot of fun together. The office itself is made up... and this is the worse part... of cubicles. I work in a little cubicle that proportionally I wouldn't make a mouse or elephant spend any time in. I feel that if you have one strand of creative DNA, one once of innovative fiber in your being, this environment is the best way to suppress it or at least numb it for the duration of your stay. I get out as much as I can. Unfortunately, it is also expected of us that we use Friday as paper work days. At least in the morning we are expected to be there.

Except for today. Today we got the full dose of office Novocaine.

So naturally, my colleagues and I were a little antsy and looking for ways to have fun. I can say with absolute certainty that I was not the only one who got little accomplished because my focus just wasn't there... I chatted with my cubby-mates, went for coffee (twice), checked my emails every five minutes (work and home)... you get my drift. So when someone suggested going to my new favourite hot dog stand for lunch I was the first one to pop my head out of my 5' gopher wall and shout "I am in!"

So off we paraded (only five of us I'm afraid, but that's a pretty good turn out) on our lunch pass out of captivity.

This hot dog stand is actually more like a trailer and it is (and I say this with absolute love and affection) a dive. I love a dive. Some of the best meals I've had have been at dives and some of the most interesting people work there. So I love this place. The hot dogs come in a dizzying variety and the line up of patrons on sunny days like today goes out the door. As we waited in line, conversation surrounded which hot dog to get... I was the only gal of the bunch and so the guys were doing their guy thing (sorry to my male readers but you have to admit you do this stuff or you know someone who does) and challenging each other to the most disgusting combination of foods to eat.

Two things about my personality... One, I love a challenge. Love. It. And two, having lived for the last 25 years with men and boys from babies to spouse, from one to four at a time plus the constant stream of male friends, I can keep up with just about anything guys can dish out.

So I had a "guided missile" hot dog (with fried onions, sauerkraut and mustard) some onion rings and a diet coke (keeping slim you know). Then as we ate, the meeting challenge came. Can Sally produce a belch during the meeting? And more importantly, will she?

I am sure by now I have destroyed whatever image of culture, refinement or restraint I may have inadvertently put across in my previous blogs and for that I apologize. But I felt up to the challenge. So I chugged the pop, woofed down the dog and rings and prepared myself for a show that would make my teammates proud.

About five minutes after we returned to the office, the guided missile began making its way through my digestive track and to save you the disgust of the details and me the remains of my dignity, I instead turned my efforts to keeping the missile down and making it through the rest of the day. I popped TUMS, drank lots of water and waited impatiently (even more impatiently than I had been previously which even I found hard to believe) for the meeting time.

I will spare the suspense. No belch was forthcoming. I could make excuses (I was the last to arrive and was seated farthest away from anyone.... any belch that would be heard by my challengers would have to reach decibel levels I'm not sure on my best day I was capable of and this definitely wasn't my best day, regional and national representatives were in attendance) but I know that excuses are a sign of the weak.

I will admit my defeat at the assigned task.

Mighty Casey has struck out.

But I kept it down and I can tell you, that's an accomplishment in itself!! I love Fridays.

My Feminist Manifesto

2008-04-17T21:12:00.001-04:00

I have found as I age (please note there is no reference to getting either old or older as neither apply), and like most people I speak with, I become clearer and clearer of who I am and what I hold to be dear. There are of course the obvious selections; my children who have taught me far more than I could ever hope to teach them. There are my girlfriends who, only through misaligned biological connections, are not my blood sisters, but sisters to me in every other way. There is the four years of work/blessing I had at the Women’s Centre that filled me up and made me stretch and want to stretch more.

And there are my ideals. These are the core beliefs that I have that, although were inside of me as I grew as a young girl, did not find their voice or their clarity for me until the last few years. Working in a woman’s organization, conversations frequently settled around the feminist ideal and how different it is from woman to woman, from agency to agency. There are, however, a few basic truths that seem to carry regardless who is claiming to be a feminist or to hate them all or anything else in between. I have had many conversations involving comments such as “I’m not a feminist; I just want equality for women.” What on earth is feminism but the struggle for equality? I also hear, “I just can’t stand feminists.” I hear that one a lot. From all kinds of people; from people you would never expect to hate any segment of the population. I think somewhere between the birth of feminism in the 60’s and the mid 80’s the feminist voice became tainted with the fear and uncertainty of a culture unsure of what now seemed to be an inevitable course of events. I would argue (and frequently do) that feminism is not an achieved goal; far from it. There is so much left to do it often makes me feel as if my miniscule drops of sweat will have no impact on the sea that is injustice against women. But thankfully, that doesn’t happen often.

I was lucky to work with a lot of remarkable women at the Centre and to witness the journey of many others. One particularly beautiful soul had written her own feminist manifesto. She was a young woman in her early 20’s and I admired her knowledge of self, her strength of character and her dedication to becoming the best woman she could. And she inspired me to do the same.

In an effort to clearly identify what I believe to be a feminist ideal (but certainly not ‘the feminist ideal’), and to articulate once and for now, what I believe to be true, here is my feminist manifesto:

As a woman I claim the right to be treated with the same respect, dignity and honour of which all humans are deserving, but are so often denied. Because horrors are committed against human-kind in the name of God, Allah, the Almighty or whatever name is chosen for the power that is deemed to have created us all, does not justify or negate that women more often are the victims of abuse, murder, rape and assault. Until all of us women on this planet are safe, none of us is safe. I claim the right to be able to speak my discontent, be it mild or consuming, without my views being dismissed as the rantings of a hormonal, over-emotional female.

I claim the right to choose to be sexy or not, and I will not accept the stereotypical assignment of stupidity in direct proportion to how good I look. I like to look my best, to dress to impress, to turn heads when I walk into a room. This does not give anyone permission to presume acceptance of anything more than a compliment and good conversation. If I am interested in a person, I am perfectly capable of expressing that interest in a way that has little ambiguity. If I choose to be un-sexy, it is because for that moment in time, that is how I am most comfortable. It does not mean that I am on my period, that I’m bloated, that I’m in a bad mood or that I have “a hard on for someone.”

I am not a whore or a slut because I have taken responsibility for my own sexuality or reproductive system. My body. My choice. I believe that acts of love committed by consenting adults in the privacy of their homes are their business and should not be fodder for gossip, trial or persecution. There is enough hatred in this world; actions taking place out of love should be left sacred.

I chose to be a mother, and I respect and embrace women who choose not to be. I chose not to work outside of the home when my children were young, only because I had the privilege to do so and I empathize and support women who do not have the luxury of that choice.

I have given birth to sons and am proud of each one and the man he is becoming. I have done my best to instill in them the ideals that I profess here, but claim no responsibility for the impact of a culture that demeans women, diminishes their impact to sexual interference or objectifies them, and I mourn the change that culture has had on the voices of my sons. I am a feminist and I love men. I have given birth to three and loved many in many ways. I do not hate men.

I like to be a girly-girl as much as I like to be a mature woman. I want to be cared for and to care for others. I want human contact and in the absence of it, I become less of the person I know myself to be. I wish to see the best of me reflected in my friends’ eyes and laughter and embrace and I apologize to the many people who I have disappointed or hurt along my journey. I strive to set a good example and look for others to do the same. I am drawn to men for their strength, nobility, charm, humour, honesty and kindness. I have met far too many who possess none of those characteristics. I am drawn to women for their softness, insight, nurturing, grace, humour, honesty and kindness. I have met far too many who feel they do not deserve to possess any of those characteristics.

I believe that violence is never the answer. I knew when I was being beaten, that I had done nothing that would merit this mistreatment of me and I know that to be true of every child who has been beaten and abused and every adult who has faced the same fate, man or woman. If you can believe that a person deserves to be abused, than you can just as easily believe that I did as well, and I will not accept that as a truth in my life.

I claim the right to like the colour pink, “chick flicks,” sentimental music and all pretty things. That does not make me less strong. My strength comes from deep within and has carried me through agonizing times that I thought would buckle me under an unbearable weight of sorrow. My strength allowed me to emerge, spirit in tact and wisdom expanded.

So hopefully you will see feminism is not an absurd notion filled with radical ideals and destructive wishes. Like any other segment of the population, whether divided by race, sex, religion, ethnicity or financial standing, feminists are as wide and varied as your selection of candies in a candy store. The idea, like anything else in life, is to pick what you really like and pass by the rest.

Afternoon Delight

2008-04-17T14:37:00.003-04:00

Some days obtain a level of perfection that can only be described as bliss. The challenge, I find is appreciating when they happen, relishing the moment and keeping it for warm thoughts on days that don’t quite have that kind of goodness in them.

Today is one of those days for me. We are emerging from a very long, cold, snowy winter where I live and the glory of a sunny day is still new and delightful. The wind carries the sweet promise of many more days like this one coming and I am drinking in the pleasure of it all.

On top of the remarkable gift Mother Earth has given, it has been a fantastic day for work (and let’s face it, doing well at work always makes a good day better) and I am at the moment, sitting on a sunny patio, drinking a yummy smoothie with a co-worker as we write up our deals (or our blogs… details details).

Add to this warm thoughts from friends, a fun evening ahead and the start of a weekend around the corner and I am a happy gal.

Wishing all good things for you as well.

Karma Works

2008-04-16T10:21:00.003-04:00

I don’t know if you believe in karma, but I certainly do. I have always believed that the good you do comes back to you some day in some way and I have always taken solace in the belief that those who have hurt, caused pain, will have less of that boost of unexpected kindness, rather receiving the same energy they have given out.

But I also believe that the nature of karma is that it is an unpredictable thing. It’s not a bank that you deposit your good deeds into with the plan of making a withdrawal when you need it; rather, it’s a river that you act as a tributary to… adding to in order to make that goodness stronger, wherever it goes.

I have been having a particularly hard time with a certain aspect of my life lately… nothing that I’ve gone into detail in here, but rather something more personal that, despite my best efforts, my struggles seems to be moving farther from resolution rather than closer. It is a discouraging time and I am trying hard to remain secure in my faith in a positive outcome. But I’m struggling and doubtful in the absence of any sign of light.

As I carried on, struggled against what feels to me like quicksand… the more you struggle, the worse it gets, a little miracle happened.

This morning, out of the blue, unexpected and unrequested, words of enormous kindness came my way. Words of encouragement on a completely unrelated issue but words that renewed my faith in myself. I was immediately lifted… I saw again the goodness of the person I can be reflected in the eyes of this messenger. It took me out of my place of darkness and put me firmly back in the sunshine. I thanked this person, but I’m sure my messenger has no idea what a tremendous impact was made upon me.

In what at first glance seems completely unconnected, I sent a quick note of support last night to a local business person who has been struggling with his own challenge that he, unfortunately, has little control over. And considering it has to do with his business, and having had my own business struggles in the past myself, I wanted him to know that he and his wife were on the right path, doing good work and had support from me and I’m sure countless others who are quietly watching what is happening and hoping for a positive outcome. He replied this morning telling me that my words came at a particularly bleak moment and he was grateful for the uplift.

Things usually don’t happen that clearly… the dots don’t usually line up so easily. But that is, what to me, seems to be the miracle about it. Sure it’s a little one, but there are some days that’s all you need.

And as for that struggle… I think I’ll stop with the flailing, sit back and see what happens. Whatever the result, I’ve done what I can.

Giggles and geese

2008-04-15T16:51:00.004-04:00

I am experiencing my first episode of writer’s block since having started my blog. Now, it’s only been just over two weeks since I started, so I’m not sure if that’s cause for real concern or not. I’ll go with ‘not’ since I am adopting an optimistic outlook on everything lately.

But having said all that, I feel the need to warn you that this blog will likely be different from my others in two key respects… It is definitely going to be less focused (since I am as well) and it’s probably going to be a lot shorter. You can let me know what you think on both counts.

So, a few disjointed, unrelated things that have caught my attention today as I have gone about my business…

A friend of mine has an internet television program at BrantNOW... so far he’s eaten a newspaper – well, an article at least, and his co-host drank a shot of hot sauce... mmmm..... (sound like fun??? you better believe it is!! Watch here on Wednesday nights at 8:00 pm http://brantnow.com/live ). This week, he is promising to drink a gallon of milk live on the air… whole milk no less! I guess I’m hoping that my amusement with the idea of watching this isn’t clouding the fact that it might actually be an unhealthy endeavor. But it's milk, right? How bad could it be? Having said that, I am the person who is laughing with ridiculous glee at anything remotely resembling slapstick… I think because I so closely identify with the whole idea behind the humour, being a total klutz myself. But really, I want him to be fine… but I’ll laugh… but I want him to be ok… giggle giggle.

I was driving from my office, which is actually located in a very busy commercial/industrial area but with a small pond situated right beside an on-ramp to a major six-lane highway. When I was driving by today a couple of Canadian geese were meandering around the on-ramp completely unafraid of the masses of steel and rubber hurtling by them… in fact, they seemed quite annoyed at our presence and made no effort to disguise their discontent. So as I carefully maneuvered around them I had a great smile when I saw them in the rear view mirror honking brazenly at us all. I sure hope they’re ok… and that they made it back to the pond.

It is on days like this that I love my job… I am in sales and my territory stretches (also in a very disjointed way) all around the Burlington, Hamilton, Brantford Ontario area. This allows me a great amount of discretion when deciding how to occupy my day… In the past week or so, as the sun has been shining through my open sunroof, I have been happily cruising the countryside with windows down, breezes blowing and an enormous smile on my face. My only barrier to a summer filled with days like this is the rising price of gasoline… but that’s another topic entirely.

So that’s it for me on this beautiful spring day. I think I’ll grab a drink and enjoy some time on the balcony… and ponder postings.

Filling the Void

2008-04-14T18:07:00.006-04:00

I have been living alone for two years now (I know, I’ve told you this before but I live in the hope that someone new is visiting here all the time) and in that time I have gone through a process of growth and grieving (in no particular order). A new friend of mine likened it to when his father passed away and I believe him to be right… a separation, the ending of a relationship, especially one that has spanned many years (and this one lasted 18, which for me is really really long) is the death of a lot of things, not the least of which is a part of who you were.

No matter what kind of relationship we are talking about, be it parent/child, siblings, friends, lovers or partners I believe we are, when we are with that person, someone unlike who we are with others. I believe, especially in a particularly close relationship such as partner/spouse/lover, you can be someone who you dare not around others. For better or worse. And when that relationship ends, that part of you, that aspect of your being, has no place to be. So what to do?

I have been trying to adjust to this new reality and I have come to terms with one thing. I have accepted the possibility that I will spend the rest of my life alone. My children are grown and it is my blessing that they have each become strong, stable, kind, brave men who are venturing out on their own great adventures. I have no interest in dating… just the thought of it draws a reaction in me somewhere between goofy amusement at the ridiculousness of it and pure aversion to its possibility. It, quite simply, doesn’t feel right. Not even a little bit.

Now, don’t get me wrong… there are aspects of a long-lasting, committed relationship that I dearly miss; having someone to smile at you when you walk in the door at home at the end of your day, that moment of bliss on a weekend morning when you realize that you don’t need to get up to do anything and can instead roll back over into the warmth and support of the person beside you, having someone there… all the time… when you don’t need them just as much as when you do. I miss each of those things. And I would love nothing more to have them back but I can't go on day-to-day hoping for that wish to come true because if it doesn't, that is an enormous amount of wasted energy and a sad disappointment to face at the end of my days.

So my question is, how do you fill up the void? I have wonderful friends, amazing friends really. And I love each of them for their own unique qualities as well as for the qualities they bring out in me. But there remains that empty space that sits… quietly. Deafeningly quiet sometimes. How does one go about filling that up? Self-discovery and enrichment? Yes. Activity? Hobbies? Busy-ness? I guess so but I have to admit that seems a little shallow in comparison.

I guess, at this moment in time I’m just really not sure. And that’s ok too, I suppose. But if I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

Sweet Sunday Musings... or is that Musings about Sweet Sunday???

2008-04-13T11:05:00.002-04:00

It is Sunday... I love Sunday. Now I could write a whole blog about what I like or dislike about single every day of the week, about every month, every season but for now, I'd like to chat with you about Sundays at Sally's place.

And this Sunday in particular...

It is a beautiful spring day here in little ol' Brantford Ontario. The sun is peaking in and out of the big fluffy clouds that punctuate the sky... it's not really warm out but just the presence of that sunshine makes it feel warmer to my heart and spirit and that's plenty for today, thanks!

I got up this morning and after looking sadly at the assorted piles of laundry dotting my two bedrooms, decided that they had to be priority number one. So, sort, pile, pour and off I went to throw the laundry in. If I haven't mentioned it before, I live on the third floor of a beautiful, century old apartment building that I had admired from afar for years before I was lucky enough to find myself actually living here. And I love my apartment, I really do, except for two regular occasions.... laundry day and grocery day. Up and down and up and down and up and down. My laundry room, like most, is in the basement and it makes laundry day an excellent cardio workout. The doors on all of the apartments as well as to the basement, are on automatic hinges (I'm sure there is an official, hardware store name for them, but I can't tell you what that is) that I curse and cuss at every single time I venture in and out, carrying a laundry basket filled with bits and pieces... They are heavy doors and inevitably I am caught, usually on many occasions and in many uncomfortable positions, sacrificing different appendages every time to the slam of the door. I risk life and limb on laundry day. But I love the spring fresh scent so I figure things balance out.

Load number one safely secured (and me happily back in one, albeit battered and bruised, piece) I am now ready to go about the rest of my day... stopping only to run back down and up again. Coffee has been made, newspapers fetched, music is playing... I will read and write (obviously) and chat with friends and enjoy the company of my boys for snacks, dinner, board game or some combination thereof... The day will be savoured at an easy pace that allows me to rev up when the energy hits and relax and just gaze out my window when I'm distracted by the cardinals nesting in a tree nearby.

How perfect is that? Wishing you a perfect Sunday as well, filled with people and activities that fill your soul.

Saturday Night Perfection...

2008-04-12T20:28:00.003-04:00

So, after my less-than-fun Friday night experience (and here's a word to the wise, chips & dip at 10:00 at night after a couple of cosmopolitans is, generally speaking, a bad idea... a word to the wise because I know you were thinking of going down that exact path as we speak), I have been blessed to have a purely enjoyable Saturday night.

Now, before you get all excited, or even worse, titillated, I went to my friends' home for dinner (with their two delightful children). It actually started with just dropping by for a quick drink with my girlfriend while she enjoyed some precious quiet alone time while everyone was out of the house (which, as a blessing in itself, made me remember how much I looked forward to those quiet moments I now take for granted day-to-day)... We had a glass of wine, chatted about nothing and everything at the exact same time and I found myself being able to be so present in the moment of happiness it felt like I was actually able to slow down time to really relish every moment.

Before too long, her family came home, bit by bit. Her sweet little boy who makes me miss and love my boys so much it hurts while at the same time laugh with pure happiness in his gleeful boy-ness, and then her husband and daughter.

We enjoyed a magificent dinner (not a plastic, microwavable tray to be found), some delicious wine and conversation that started with this charming little boy announcing "I could eat so much of this salmon and not even barf." Could life get more perfect than that? Not today.

I am blessed.

Friday Night Gone Amok

2008-04-11T22:19:00.004-04:00

Honestly.

I have just come home, on a Friday night, after going out for what I had hoped was a relaxing dinner and maybe a couple of drinks. That is my fantasy... here is the reality of what happened...

I went to my favourite local restaurant/bar. It is a great spot for a few reasons; it's fun (the owners are engaging, entertaining and make you feel like you are joining them for a drink in their livingroom), it's small so you don't get overwhelmed with sounds or people and it's hip. Very cool, fantastic music, amazing menu and wonderful clientèle. In the past, I have felt that I could go and just hang alone at the bar, maybe order dinner, maybe just a cocktail and enjoy the atmosphere that surrounded me.

I haven't been going much lately and tonight is the perfect example of why not...

I went in because (as I have discussed already) I didn't feel like cooking for one tonight. And as I have also said, they have an amazing menu; I can honestly say I've never had a meal there that I haven't finished with the phrase "this is my new favourite dish here." It's just that good.

But tonight, I sauntered in looking forward to dinner and a cosmopolitan, grabbed a seat and was immediately made aware that my peaceful plans for my Friday dinner were about to go terribly array. An old acquaintance approached me and started up a conversation.

Now, the city that I call home has a very interesting dynamic that I should share in order for this story to convey the appropriate level of discomfort... I have lived here for over 25 years now and I am regularly reminded that I am not "from here." I love my home... Love It! But it is similar to the maritime provinces of my beloved country in that, if you weren't born here, you're not from here. I have had that conversation with many Brantford imports over the years and have heard the same reaction over and over. Weird.

The natural by-product of that kind of close-knit community is that everyone knows everyone, their history, their family tree, who you went to school with, what you wore at graduation and your pet peeves as quoted in the yearbook. So, here I was, on my hoping-to-be-quiet Friday night facing a conversation with an individual who had immediate connections to:

My ex-husband
Past political campaigns I have worked on
Current friends whom I hold dear...

Add to that, he had just broken up with his fiance. You can imagine my hell. Or can you? Trust me... it was hell.

So, in an attempt to make an already-long story short, I had no dinner. I ordered my drink but not dinner (why prolong the agony?) and then one more and came home.

As I left, the owner came up to me and in the sweetest way possible said "I understand why we don't see you as much." No kidding.

Chips and dip for dinner again. Geez.

Thanks for listening... As I've said before, it's always nice to have someone to talk to.

On the lighter side...

2008-04-10T23:28:00.006-04:00

When I ventured out on this new life I am now leading, I went through a number of metamorphosises... metamorphoses... hmmm... changes.

Address, naturally. Downsizing, of course. Lifestyle, as any woman facing a newly-single lifestyle will tell you "duh, ya." But the biggest, at least the one that garnered the most comments, was weight loss.

Maybe that's because it's the most obvious, easiest to make light conversation over... It started with simple little "wow, you've lost a lot of weight" to which I initially responded "ya, about 180 lbs but who's counting" ba dum bum. Ha. Some people laughed, some just looked at me with heads cocked to the side wondering how I hid all that weight for so long. But now, two years later, this new reality of who I am, what I look like is starting to be accepted by people with whom I interact. Sort of.

I still get gratuitous comments on what I do or don't order at breakfast, lunch or dinner; sideways glances still come if I go to the washroom after eating any amount of food. And people still feel (as I have mentioned here before) very comfortable in sharing their viewpoints, in this particular instance, on my eating habits.

So I would like to allay their concerns, and yours for that matter. I eat. I eat plenty. I eat badly most of the time, but I do eat. I have found, living this solitary lifestyle, that cooking for one essentially... hmmm, how can I put it???? Well, it sucks. Putting together a gastronomically impressive meal for me to sit back and say to myself, "what a remarkable introduction of saffron into this dish... it has really added to its complexity" to be an anti-climatic experience really. And who wants to wash that many dishes for one person? I can tell you right now, not me. So I either eat out (and being an on-the-road salesperson, that means a lot of drive-throughs... as is evident if you look in the back seat of my car on any given day), or a lot of frozen cardboard sculptures that disguise themselves as meals. Now let me assure you, I am a good cook, a really good one. But it is talent wasted on a meal for one, so I save it for when I am lucky enough to enjoy the company of friends or my boys.

And so, I have lost weight. I'm not sure how. Poor dietary choices (well, I'm guessing that's the most likely answer)? Stress? Lifestyle changes? Living on the third floor of an apartment building with no elevator? Whatever it is, this is who I am now and, really, I have no problem with it.

I am happy, typing away at 11:49 on a Thursday night, eating my chips and dip after a night out with my girlfriends. Yup... I'm feeling pretty good.

About that Judge and Jury Thing...

2008-04-08T20:53:00.006-04:00

This is an interesting predicament.

I am getting lots of feedback on my last blog post, from friends (as in in-person friends I see day-to-day) as well as Facebook friends (that wonderful group of people I only know electronically but value completely)...

So that's good, right? People are reading my blog... Yippee!! Happy gal I am. But it's what they're saying...

Apparently I am causing concern. Equally from my in-person friends as my electronic ones. So I am here to hopefully calm your fears.

There is no doubt that I have been struggling with certain challenges lately, but then again, who hasn't? The blessing I am getting from this struggle is two-fold.

First, for the first time in my life probably, I am being totally open with how I'm feeling about things with people other than myself. No brave face, no smile to cover the pain. Just me. That, to me, is a blessing. It is a huge step forward in my own personal journey and am thankful for this opportunity.

Second, and what makes the first blessing even more remarkable, is that despite exposing my less-than-positive side, my weaknesses, my troubles, I am getting sincere, heart-felt messages of encouragement, hope and concern. From people I have known for years and from people I have known for days. Unexpected messages of support appear before me and I am lifted.

Could I be any luckier? I don't think so.

We all have our problems in life, that is not unique to me and mine are a cake-walk in comparison to others. What we should be thankful for, what I am enormously grateful for, is having people who are cheering me on towards better days.

To the Judge and Jury

2008-04-07T20:38:00.006-04:00

I have been separated over two years now. In that time there have been two changes of residence; one when the official separation began with my husband moving out of our “marital home” and the second change of residence came two months later when he moved back in and I moved out to the apartment I have called home ever since (well, not at first... at first I just called it 'the apartment' because it felt no more like home than any hotel I'd ever been in). I am now looking at moving again, this time totally by my own choice in my own time and on my own terms, but going through this process has brought up feelings from that move two years ago and the judgments that were laid against me then and, although in diminishing frequency, still now.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to address the members of the jury. Since my move on two years ago, I have endured and continue to endure countless occasions of judgment, questioning, interrogation, reprisal and admonition from members of the jury. And just to be clear, allow me to clarify who is included in this jury pool. The judges and jury of my peers consist of members of my community, older and younger, richer and poorer, kinder and crueler. It includes people I work with, play with, have met once or twice and those I know more deeply. I have found, if you have known me in even slightly more than a passing encounter you feel you have an intrinsic right and duty to comment on my life choice. I am bound to listen (my parents did an impeccable job of raising a daughter who smiles and nods politely), feign respect of your comments and strive to improve upon my condition by implementing your well-thought out advice.

So in response to the jury, and in neither chronological order nor level of insensitivity of the originating offender, this is my defense.

“How could you leave your children? I didn’t think mothers ever left their children.” I didn’t leave my children, I left my husband. My children remained comfortable in the home that they enjoyed their entire lives, the same home that I created for them with love and care and with every intention of living in for the rest of my days. Their routines were the same and the impact on their lives was reduced to a minimum. Because I could not live any longer with the man they call dad, gave me no excuse, reason or justification to rip them from his warmth. We live within blocks of each other and I am reminded frequently of that fact when the boys stop by to check my fridge out in comparison to the one at the house (usually to their sad disappointment). Although I appreciate your obvious wisdom and expertise, consider for a moment that I may know my children, and what they need to be happy and strong men, just a little better than you.

“Why oh why would you leave the house?” This one is pure in its simplicity. Because he needed its support, memories and embrace far more than I did. Because of the life I lead when I was young taught me early that I am strong enough to survive just about anything and that as long as I am healthy in mind and body, the rest is just geography.

“I hope you are sure this is what you want. Divorce is hell and it never, ever gets any better. I know.” Please take into account that this piece of wisdom was offered at a bar while the jury member enjoyed his third martini. Funny, his new partner was not there with him and I was intensely curious to find out if she shared his opinion (or was even aware of it). Regardless, I have to say I think this one depends solely on your outlook and there are enough clichés out there about that for you to insert your favourite one here.

“It’s too bad. I would never leave my wife and she’s sick. I am going through a lot for her now, but I would never leave her.” What on earth am I to say to that? Guilty as charged, Mr. Prosecutor. You are clearly a better person than I would ever hope to be and I cannot defend what is obviously a purely selfish and inexcusable action. My only hope is that by having two independent, happy, strong parents, my sons will be better off and learn that it’s not a sin to care enough about yourself to choose what is right for you.

For those members of the jury who envy my position, who comment on how lucky I am to have a new place to live, to start all over, to do as I please when I please... Although I appreciate your comments, please, please remember this; my new life has come at a cost that at times feels painfully high and at the worst of times makes me weep, feeling that I don’t have the strength to do what I know is right. Before you envy my position, and ponder your reality changed in the same way, let me buy you a drink and paint you a picture.

As for the silent stares, the whispers behind my back (literally; I can hear you, you know) and the knowing looks of understanding, pity and bewilderment, I have this to say. The best thing you can say or do for me is to offer a simple “How are you doing?” If I know and trust you well enough I will share my ever-changing feelings of fear, anxiety, self-doubt, excitement, peace, exhilaration, security and I would count you as a friend. The rest of you, kindly save your commentary for the latest sports event of note or international incident. I don’t care to listen or respond.

And anyway, cliché of all clichés, it’s none of your business!

The Other Side of Strength

2008-04-05T10:32:00.005-04:00

Events in my life, from birth to recent history, have made me strong. They have challenged me to find within myself strength that upon recollection, I marvel that I was able to muster. This strength has natural side-effects; on the positive side, I am self-confident and assured with a clear knowledge of myself (although it has certainly come into question lately) and what I believe to be right and wrong for me. On the other side of that coin called strength are the less positive traits; stoic, aloof with and what I continue to struggle with, a complete inability to ask for help.

I began challenging this in myself after lunch date over a year ago with my eldest son. We meet regularly, me and my sons, in varying combinations. Rarely but exquisitely at times with all three, sometimes with girlfriends, sometimes only two and, like this occasion, sometimes I enjoy the company of one, allowing me precious time to really delve into his life.

On this date, conversation flowed from his current job (temporary but a good step forward for this young man), his love life (or the at-that-time lack there-of) and his brothers. As the separation of their parents became a long-term reality rather than a short-term solution, I wanted to know how he was dealing with this new normal. He, like any good son who loves his mother, told me that he wants his parents to be happy. That, of course, he would prefer us together but if apart made us happy, then he was happy too. I have amazing sons. For all the challenges they have presented over the years, they are blessings to me and I am thankful I am their mother.

I decided I would ask him for his observations of his brothers as they have gone through this transition; maybe, I thought, they had confided their thoughts to him and he could provide me some insight in how to best support them. “How are they doing, do you think?” I asked. His response shook me to the core. “We are all like you, Mom. We keep our feelings pretty close to our chests. They haven’t said anything.”

I was dumbfounded. I struggled to absorb the impact of his words; his analysis not only of his brothers’ management of this difficult time in their lives, but of my entire approach as a mother.

Suddenly being strong felt different. Suddenly it felt bad. I questioned every move I made as a parent. I know that I provided hugs, kisses and expressions of love and affection in abundance, but in my efforts to provide them a strong female role model had I, in fact, shown them how to stifle their own fears, sadness and disappointment? And what was I to do now?

I possess enough self-knowledge to know from where this stunted aspect of my personality comes. I was born to a young woman unsure of her desire to be a mother. She placed me in foster care while she attempted to sort out her life and her choices. In the two years in their care, I lived in four foster homes before my birth mother gave up all rights to me as her daughter. I was then adopted by a family with the picture-perfect mother, father and daughter; add me, one more for a well-rounded foursome. What the perfect picture didn’t show was an over-abundance of dysfunction and actions that left scars upon each one of us. All of this taught me, imprinted upon me, that the only person in this life I can depend on, is me. My lessons in strength started at the ripe old age of two weeks. I am a leopard, unable to change my spots. What I can do, what I must do, is learn, at this age, how to adapt myself in a way that acknowledges my shortcomings and attempts to fill in the gaps. I need to connect the spots.

I no more want to ask for help than I want to go one full season without getting new clothes. It’s just not me. And it’s not for the reasons you are probably thinking. It’s not because I don’t like to be dependent on others (although that is true); and it’s not because I’m worried they will say no (ok, that's also true). It is, quite simply, because if I am not strong, what am I? This is my persona that I have worked on, cultivated, had thrust upon me and finally learned to embrace and rely upon. How am I, the one that all of my friends refer to as the strong one, supposed to let that go and ask for help? If I am the strong one, who is strong enough to help me? And what kind of burden does that put on them?

I need to figure this out. I need to find the answer and get comfortable in that place so that I can show my sons that it is ok to be vulnerable, sad and scared (which I am) and it’s also ok to share that with people you trust (which I am not). I need to live the change. I need to connect the spots.

If not for me, for my boys. And that’s plenty reason enough.

Across the universe

2008-04-03T18:01:00.004-04:00

I believe in goodness. I really do.

In my life I have faced my share of bad times... worse than some but certainly not as bad stories I have heard from others. I have been privileged by being entrusted with heartbreaking recollections from people who have shown more strength in overcoming their pasts than I can ever imagine possessing. Human beings' capacity for committing horrors upon its own kind and those with which we share this earth is both frightening and discouraging.

And yet, despite all that, I am hopeful. I believe in goodness. And I'll tell you why (what did you expect? This is a blog after all).

I have, as you may have read, been experiencing some difficulty coping lately. It comes and goes, but lately it has felt particularly debilitating. I'm sure there are a number of reasons for that but how I got here isn't what I want to focus on. What I want to talk about, what has amazed me, and what will give me the strength to know I will emerge and be just fine is what has happened as I have shared my struggle.

I am a Facebook-er. Love it. Have fun all the time and visit multiple times most days. Among the many applications you can add to your profile is one called Give Good Karma. It's a simple little notion, get good given to you and share it... pay it forward. When I was feeling particularly low, lonely, lost... I indicated that I needed some good karma (a very nice little bonus that the creators of the application added that coincidently I hadn't noticed until, go figure, I needed it.). This sent a call for help out across the cyber-universe that I wasn't sure would be heard.

Within minutes messages of hope and support started coming in. People, strangers to me, began responding and telling me I wasn't alone, that I was strong enough to get past this, that hope exists and I should find shelter in that hope.

This world can be a terrible place and we are reminded of that, bombarded with the images and stories of that fact daily, hourly.

But to me... a woman living alone in Ontario, Canada it is filled with people who have so much caring in them, that they are willing to perform a simple, pure act of kindness for someone they have no likelihood of meeting. I have thanked all of them and I have made efforts to pay this goodness forward. And I will continue to do so.

Always remember, your small acts of kindness most surely mean more to the recipient than you will ever know. I can tell you that for sure.

In the deep, long darkness

2008-04-02T18:34:00.003-04:00

First off, and completely unrelated, I need a new chair for my desk. This one is remarkably uncomfortable and my poor butt begs me to remove it from this torture after very limited sessions. I guess on a positive note, that pretty much ensures that none of my blog posts will ever be very long. Unless I get a new chair. Don't worry, I'll give you the heads-up so you can prepare yourself.

Back on topic...

I have been living alone for two years now, separated after 18 years of marriage and separated from my children (it's ok... you can make whatever judgments about that fact that you would like... trust me, I've heard all of them). Alone. Prior to this two years, I last lived alone for three months immediately after high school and not at all since.

You can imagine this has been an adjustment.

There are days I think I have complete control of my life and there are days that I have to stand back from the fray, remove myself from my tornado of emotions to try to grab something to hold onto and not get ripped away, never to be seen again.

But it is at night that I am weakest. It is at night, when embraced by only silence and darkness that I find myself hearing and seeing the worst of my life replay before me. Mistakes. Missteps. Losses. Hurt.

It is a hard thing to shake those kinds of thoughts. To emerge from the darkness and try over and over to see only the light. I am working hard at that, especially lately.

I am grateful for the morning and I am, today especially, grateful for the promise of spring. Today, I shed my hose and trotted out to the world, bare legged and with hopes high. I drove with the sun-roof open. I smiled at strangers.

I am looking for the kindness and love that comes my way when least expected and I am trying hard to believe in the possibility of a still brighter day. I am trying to forgive myself my errors, learn from them and become a better person. I am reminding myself that time heals all wounds, or so I'm told.

And I am working towards a day that I can be alone in the deep, long darkness and be comforted by words, acts and thoughts of love.

Tipping the Scale

2008-04-01T23:11:00.003-04:00

I have a dilemma. I was told, very recently by a friend, that I am essentially self-sabotaging because I am used to and comfortable with pain and difficulty (I am also taking some liberty here because the discussion was much longer and drawn out than that but you get my point). I am very familiar with the notion that you surround yourself, especially when challenged, with what is comfortable and familiar to you, even if that something is negative. My question, to myself and to anyone listening is... If you believe, truly deep in your soul, with everything you know to be true, that you are seeking out in others and in yourself only good... who are you to believe? The non-partial observer, or yourself... who has the background, and bias of your own experience?

And at what point does the voice that is telling you that you are seeking out only negative, become the focus of energy? Become the negative influence? Make you question what is happening, what you are seeing, what you believe, to the point that it all becomes painted with a negative brush?

Am I the only person who has been in this position? That hardly seems possible.

How do you reinstate your belief in self? When it is brought into question by those closest to you? And how do you determine if they are the ones who are right?

Seven Random Facts...

2008-03-30T13:52:00.003-04:00

I saw this post on someone else's blog and loved the idea. Write seven random facts about yourself and post it. You can invite others to do the same, but I'll stick with just writing them for now. So here goes...

1. I have a scar on my middle knuckle on my left hand from having chicken pox as a kid.

2. I sing all the time but never in front of anyone... unless really really drunk.

3. I'm adopted.

4. I still believe in happy endings despite all evidence to the contrary.

5. I like ABBA. So sue me.

6. I'm not as strong as I profess to be.

7. I like salty more than sweet.

That's it for now. Maybe my seven random facts will change some day. I think what comes out really depends on the mood. Right now, I think I'll go grab some chips and dip.

Talk to you soon.

Rollercoasters with eyes open

2008-03-29T12:59:00.001-04:00

It has been a long time since I've been on a rollercoaster... well, a real rollercoaster that is. I live on a rollercoaster but more on that later. And frankly, I bet you do too.

I found that after I had my children, none of whom are children any more, my tolerance for rollercoasters really just disappeared. More nausea, less fun. I tried them a few times, but always with my eyes tightly shut, hands firmly grasping what-ever seemingly inadequate restraint that was holding my life in its steely hands. But despite my repeated efforts, I never had that exhilarating rush of adrenaline that, in the end, made it worth the anxiety ridden wait in line. I was always left feeling queezy, scared and resolute in my decision to never, ever do that again. Until the next time.

I have always admired those folks who ride the rollercoaster with reckless abandon, arms raised (I know, warnings be damned), eyes wide open and faces frozen in looks of pure glee. I've never been one of those people, but oh how I have tried.

So, the rollercoaster that is my life that I am riding now, I have decided I have been riding with entirely the wrong outlook. My eyes have been shut tight, white knuckles bared and nails digging into the palms of my hands so the only thing that distracts me from the intensity of the anxiety is the pain I am inflicting upon myself.

That just seems like a tremendous waste of energy. And time. And me. It's time to lighten up, give myself a break and have some fun.

So here is my not-so-new year's resolution (why wait 'til January 1?). Open up my eyes. Look at the people around me who are enjoying the ride, scream until the anxiety is a long-distant memory and finally, even if a bit reluctantly at first, raise my arms up and fly.

In the beginning... no wait, that's taken

2008-03-28T23:11:00.001-04:00

Should I be bothered that I feel stumped on the simple task of naming my blog and it's first entry? No, I think not. Certainly not the first time I've been stumped by a task at first glance. Best to jump in and give my best shot.

So, as I was struggling with mechanics of setting this up a blogging friend asked me "What are you going to be blogging about?" Fine question. Is that a static thing? Solid? Stationary? I sure hope not because that would be unlike just about everything else in my life.

I decided to do this for two reasons really... one to try to get myself back into the pass-time I love but have spent far too little time at lately, writing. And second to have, if only for my own entertainment, a running history of the fun, foolishness, franticness, manic struggle that is my life. Maybe you'll relate to something and let me know I'm not alone. Maybe you'll give me a kick in the ass... Maybe you'll tell me to put my chin up and get on with things... Maybe you'll tell me if I keep doing that I'll get cavities (did I mention I'm eating wine gums now? no, not likely).

Or maybe you'll like traveling along with me. Company is always a good thing. Just don't hog the blankets and be gentle in your criticism. Honest but gentle.

Short and sweet... or something like that. Let's keep it at that; after all, I barely know you.