I sit here in a daze, not sure how life just got turned so upside down. I'm supposed to be in BC right now, visiting family and friends, and most importantly, my Aunt Norma. But she passed away on Tuesday and I am left in shock.
Her cancer diagnosis came in the fall last year. One disadvantage of living so far away from family is feeling left out of the loop when it comes to family news. Aunt Norma did send out occasional emails to let a few people know what was happening, but she was never one to want to much attention focused on herself. So I truly had no idea of just how grave her situation was until just a few weeks ago.
I learned that the cancer had spread to her liver and bones. She was sick before her first treatment even began. The treatment itself just about killed her and she was in and out of the hospital a few times. I decided I wanted to go to BC to visit her, thinking perhaps she still had many months. We debated which month to go and decided I'd travel there on March 22nd. I got a phone call from an uncle on the 17th, suggesting that I might want to come sooner. I was stunned - how could she be this sick already?
From the time I talked to my uncle until I was on the airplane was about 4 hours. Thankfully we were able to change my flights (some penalty, of course) and there was lots of room on my flight, even though it was the end of spring break. I'm amazed how quickly things can happen when the situation calls for it.
I arrived at her hospital room, in the palliative care wing, early on Sunday afternoon. Despite how she was feeling, she seemed pleased to see me and managed a little smile - there was even a little sparkle in her eye, I'm sure. We spent the rest of the day with her and I was able to help her with her lunch and make her comfortable. We managed to have a nice conversation, although it was incredibly difficult for her.
I have lived with regret since my mom passed away many years ago. In my childlike naivete or ignorance, I didn't believe that my mom would die. And there are so many things I should have said to her that I didn't and then she was gone. I would give anything to have that chance again to talk to my mom.
Aunt Norma looked after our family after my mom was gone. With no children of her own, she doted on her nieces and nephews, and especially on my sister and me. She loved us and always made us feel special. And now I had a chance to say thank-you to her and I am so unendingly grateful that I won't have those regrets. I like to think she left earth knowing how loved and appreciated she was by so many people.
We rushed to the hospital on Monday morning with the news that she'd taken a turn for the worse. She never really woke up again. She was constantly surrounded by her family for two days and then when almost everyone had left on Tuesday, she quietly slipped away. No fanfare. Just peace. When she was ready to go. I've always thought her favourite season was spring, and she died on the first day of spring.
The number of people that filled her hospital room those last few days is amazing, but not surprising. She was such a calm and loving presence in the lives of so many and everyone wanted a chance to let her know how special she was.
Even though I didn't get to spend a lot of time with her in person over the last years, we emailed regularly and she always sent wonderful cards in the mail when there was a birthday. She loved to know what was happening in our lives.
I'm thankful that her suffering is over and that she's at peace, but I'm going to miss her terribly.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Gratitude
A few comments I've heard lately regarding my latest posts: things usually happen in 3s...hope this was #3! Also, my sister-in-law thinks I just may be making this stuff up! I wish I was making this stuff up, but I'm really not that creative or imaginative. Truth is stranger than fiction, right?
So. I guess this is #3, which puts the other stuff into serious perspective.
Yesterday after supper, I sent the younger two kids out to play. It was about 14 degrees outside - beautiful late winter weather. Our house is just off a street that is a closed circle (the one we used to live on), with very little traffic. The kids are free to run, bike or scooter around the block. We regularly go over safety rules and they are pretty careful to abide by them.
They'd already been outside for about half an hour when they came back. I said they could go around the block a few more times. Logan left the scooter behind and ran behind Taya on her bike. Less than 10 minutes later, Logan was back in the house, saying, "Mommy. You have to come. The tire on Taya's bike is all bent."
So I followed him down the street while he explained that Taya had bumped into a truck. I was puzzled when I found her on the sidewalk with her bike, alone. She was sobbing her poor little heart out, because her bike was wrecked. The front tire was completely bent, the pedals were stuck and the rest of the bike completely un-rideable. She showed me where her lip was bleeding, but otherwise, she seemed unhurt.
Apparently, while riding around the corner next to the sidewalk, a pick-up truck had come towards her. She must have panicked that the truck was too close, but she didn't want to hit the sidewalk and crash, and so she somehow bumped into the truck. I suppose that's a nice way of saying that she was hit by the truck. I have no earthly understanding how her bike is so seriously damaged, and she is so ok.
The kids told me that the man had gotten out of the truck and asked her if she was ok, to which she responded that she was. He asked her where she lived, she mentioned she was just on the next street, and then... that's it. He was gone by the time I got there minutes later. A grown man (grey hair and facial hair, perhaps in his 50s, according to the kids and driving a black pick-up truck - not someone we know from the neighborhood) drove his truck away from the scene where he just hit a 7 year old girl on her bike, leaving her alone while her little brother ran to get his mommy.
He didn't knock on a neighbor's door to ask for help. He didn't use his phone to call 911 or have Taya call me. He didn't wait for her little brother to return with his mom. He left. It was blatantly obvious that her bike was in no condition to be ridden, but he left. Can you understand this? Can you think of one possible reason why an adult, having just narrowly missed running over a girl and then wrecking her bike, would leave? I'm at a loss.
Taya was inconsolable as we carried her bike home. I promised her we'd either fix it or buy her a new one. At that point, I would have promised her a pony, anything. We checked out her lip, which was bleeding and fat, but otherwise ok. She said she'd had to spit some dirt out of her mouth, so she must have hit her mouth on the ground - she wasn't sure. She has no scrape marks on her face or hands, and I can only picture an angel cushioning her fall.
I phoned the police and soon we had a constable at our house, going over the whole situation. She was kind and helpful, but told us there really wasn't much we could do. She too was baffled that the man had left, but she went around the neighborhood afterwards, checking things out. Because the street is closed, there's very little traffic, and very little traffic that doesn't live on the street. However, we're not sure who this guy is or where he came from.
Once Taya settled down about her bike, both she and Logan told me and the officer as much as they could and I was amazed at how brave they both were. I was thankful that Logan had remained calm, so I didn't have to panic when I went to find her. I was so proud of him for helping his sister. Taya was very concerned about calling the police - she didn't want the man to get in trouble. She said, "But he didn't drive over my legs." Thank God for that.
We're trying to teach our kids to take responsibility for our actions, even when something bad happens accidentally. It's not easy, and it may cost us, but it's always the right thing to do. I have no desire to press charges on the truck driver, but I do hope that his conscience makes him do the right thing. He missed his first opportunity, but he can still do something about it.
Taya is anxious to get back on her bike. In fact, her daddy took her out this evening to pick out a new one, and I'm confident that she'll be zipping around the block as soon as she can. I am amazed at her ability to cope with what happened - it's us adults who become paralyzed with the fear of what could have been. I think of a few seconds or a few inches in a different direction, and a horribly different outcome.
I'm trying to stay brave and calm on the outside for the kids, but inside I'm still shaking. I am unendingly grateful that our sweet Taya is safe.
So. I guess this is #3, which puts the other stuff into serious perspective.
Yesterday after supper, I sent the younger two kids out to play. It was about 14 degrees outside - beautiful late winter weather. Our house is just off a street that is a closed circle (the one we used to live on), with very little traffic. The kids are free to run, bike or scooter around the block. We regularly go over safety rules and they are pretty careful to abide by them.
They'd already been outside for about half an hour when they came back. I said they could go around the block a few more times. Logan left the scooter behind and ran behind Taya on her bike. Less than 10 minutes later, Logan was back in the house, saying, "Mommy. You have to come. The tire on Taya's bike is all bent."
So I followed him down the street while he explained that Taya had bumped into a truck. I was puzzled when I found her on the sidewalk with her bike, alone. She was sobbing her poor little heart out, because her bike was wrecked. The front tire was completely bent, the pedals were stuck and the rest of the bike completely un-rideable. She showed me where her lip was bleeding, but otherwise, she seemed unhurt.
Apparently, while riding around the corner next to the sidewalk, a pick-up truck had come towards her. She must have panicked that the truck was too close, but she didn't want to hit the sidewalk and crash, and so she somehow bumped into the truck. I suppose that's a nice way of saying that she was hit by the truck. I have no earthly understanding how her bike is so seriously damaged, and she is so ok.
The kids told me that the man had gotten out of the truck and asked her if she was ok, to which she responded that she was. He asked her where she lived, she mentioned she was just on the next street, and then... that's it. He was gone by the time I got there minutes later. A grown man (grey hair and facial hair, perhaps in his 50s, according to the kids and driving a black pick-up truck - not someone we know from the neighborhood) drove his truck away from the scene where he just hit a 7 year old girl on her bike, leaving her alone while her little brother ran to get his mommy.
He didn't knock on a neighbor's door to ask for help. He didn't use his phone to call 911 or have Taya call me. He didn't wait for her little brother to return with his mom. He left. It was blatantly obvious that her bike was in no condition to be ridden, but he left. Can you understand this? Can you think of one possible reason why an adult, having just narrowly missed running over a girl and then wrecking her bike, would leave? I'm at a loss.
Taya was inconsolable as we carried her bike home. I promised her we'd either fix it or buy her a new one. At that point, I would have promised her a pony, anything. We checked out her lip, which was bleeding and fat, but otherwise ok. She said she'd had to spit some dirt out of her mouth, so she must have hit her mouth on the ground - she wasn't sure. She has no scrape marks on her face or hands, and I can only picture an angel cushioning her fall.
I phoned the police and soon we had a constable at our house, going over the whole situation. She was kind and helpful, but told us there really wasn't much we could do. She too was baffled that the man had left, but she went around the neighborhood afterwards, checking things out. Because the street is closed, there's very little traffic, and very little traffic that doesn't live on the street. However, we're not sure who this guy is or where he came from.
Once Taya settled down about her bike, both she and Logan told me and the officer as much as they could and I was amazed at how brave they both were. I was thankful that Logan had remained calm, so I didn't have to panic when I went to find her. I was so proud of him for helping his sister. Taya was very concerned about calling the police - she didn't want the man to get in trouble. She said, "But he didn't drive over my legs." Thank God for that.
We're trying to teach our kids to take responsibility for our actions, even when something bad happens accidentally. It's not easy, and it may cost us, but it's always the right thing to do. I have no desire to press charges on the truck driver, but I do hope that his conscience makes him do the right thing. He missed his first opportunity, but he can still do something about it.
Taya is anxious to get back on her bike. In fact, her daddy took her out this evening to pick out a new one, and I'm confident that she'll be zipping around the block as soon as she can. I am amazed at her ability to cope with what happened - it's us adults who become paralyzed with the fear of what could have been. I think of a few seconds or a few inches in a different direction, and a horribly different outcome.
I'm trying to stay brave and calm on the outside for the kids, but inside I'm still shaking. I am unendingly grateful that our sweet Taya is safe.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Saga Ends, and then Continues...
On Saturday morning, we woke up ("waking" used loosely, as I'm not sure I was actually sleeping), looked out the window, and our fence was missing. Perhaps missing isn't quite accurate. One half of the fence was lying down on the sidewalk, and the other half was leaning on our grass, almost in the pool. There were numerous shingles strewn across the yard, front and back, and our bbq cover was swimming in the pool.
If you haven't already read my previous post, do so now, as it should give you some context. I was quite looking forward to Saturday morning. After a crazy week at our house, by 3pm on Friday, everything was just about back to normal. We had our beautiful new, scratch-free floor in place, all the cupboards and cabinets were back where they were supposed to be, and the house was clean and dust-free. Time to breathe a nice sigh of relief and relish in the fact that we could be a chaos-free zone again, relatively speaking of course.
And then, some crazy weather system moved into Burlington and area (likely the same system that was wreaking havoc in the form of tornadoes in the US) and howled so fiercely all night that it was next to impossible to sleep (except if you're one of my kids, who can sleep through just about anything). I lay in bed wondering how the roof wasn't blowing off the house (in fact, only parts of the roof were blowing off, but I didn't know that yet), but feeling so secure and cosy in my bed. The light of day revealed what had happened to our fence, and thus the fun began again, just different this time.
We're quite a sight to see in the neighborhood - cars slow down considerably as they go by, and many stop and gawk. Now everyone knows exactly what our yard looks like! Perhaps I should charge a small fee to stop and stare, with all proceeds going directly towards our fence-replacement project.
So, pretty soon we'll have not only a new floor, but also a new roof and a new fence. Exciting times. As my sister-in-law mentioned, it's almost like a movie script, although much more bizarre, I think.
On a completely different note, I just found out that I got accepted to school for September! I'm really excited and terrified. I'll be taking the Corporate Communications after-degree certificate at Sheridan College in Oakville. It'll be two semesters plus one internship of craziness, but I think I'm going to love being a student again.
Keeping my fingers crossed for calmer, less eventful days to come...
If you haven't already read my previous post, do so now, as it should give you some context. I was quite looking forward to Saturday morning. After a crazy week at our house, by 3pm on Friday, everything was just about back to normal. We had our beautiful new, scratch-free floor in place, all the cupboards and cabinets were back where they were supposed to be, and the house was clean and dust-free. Time to breathe a nice sigh of relief and relish in the fact that we could be a chaos-free zone again, relatively speaking of course.
And then, some crazy weather system moved into Burlington and area (likely the same system that was wreaking havoc in the form of tornadoes in the US) and howled so fiercely all night that it was next to impossible to sleep (except if you're one of my kids, who can sleep through just about anything). I lay in bed wondering how the roof wasn't blowing off the house (in fact, only parts of the roof were blowing off, but I didn't know that yet), but feeling so secure and cosy in my bed. The light of day revealed what had happened to our fence, and thus the fun began again, just different this time.
We're quite a sight to see in the neighborhood - cars slow down considerably as they go by, and many stop and gawk. Now everyone knows exactly what our yard looks like! Perhaps I should charge a small fee to stop and stare, with all proceeds going directly towards our fence-replacement project.
So, pretty soon we'll have not only a new floor, but also a new roof and a new fence. Exciting times. As my sister-in-law mentioned, it's almost like a movie script, although much more bizarre, I think.
On a completely different note, I just found out that I got accepted to school for September! I'm really excited and terrified. I'll be taking the Corporate Communications after-degree certificate at Sheridan College in Oakville. It'll be two semesters plus one internship of craziness, but I think I'm going to love being a student again.
Keeping my fingers crossed for calmer, less eventful days to come...
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Through Gritted Teeth
Today I came home from picking up the kids at school and my floor was missing. Yes, my floor. In exchange for my missing floor, I was left with a thick layer of dust on every flat (and not-so-flat, read: grapes and bananas) surface.
I wasn't surprised to find my floor missing, but I was surprised (which you could interpret: stunned, irritated, flabbergasted) to see the dust. Now, I'm not a professional floor remover, but shouldn't a rule of the trade be to cover things before you're about to create such a mess? Especially electronics such as TVs, DVD players, etc.?
Let me go back to the beginning of the story for a bit. When we moved into this house in June of last year, we decided to have the salmon-coloured, blackened-grouted tile removed from our entire main floor. Not really our thing. The idea was to have this work done before we moved all our stuff into the house, as we had some overlap with possession dates. A smart move indeed, as it was a disgusting, noisy, dusty, ridiculous process. However, we were very happy with the results of our new hardwood.
Fast forward now to October, when Connor shouts up from the basement one relaxing Sunday afternoon, "Why is the ceiling (and wall and floor and couch) all wet? Why is there water coming out of the ceiling?" It turns out that a nail had been hammered into a pipe behind the bathroom on the main floor (likely when the hardwood was put in in June) and that pipe had decided to burst that particular morning while we were out at church. Really, no rhyme or reason to it.
Many frustrating phone calls and service people and weeks later, we finally have the basement all fixed up. (For a little extra fun, while the wall was exposed in the basement, we discovered an unrelated crack in the foundation, which we subsequently had fixed.) There's all new laminate, drywall, paint, and the door to the bathroom even closes! (no thanks to the guy who decided to reattach the door but not bother to make sure it closed.) Progress is being made.
Finally, it's time to replace the area on the main floor outside the bathroom with some new hardwood, where the wood had buckled. (Just remembered - I forgot to tell you about the 3 industrial fans we had sucking up every last bit of moisture in the floor and walls and our skin for 4 days back in October. Imagine a 747 and all its friends taking off from your powder room for 4 days straight - somehow we stayed sane!) The flooring guys come in with all their gear and are ready to get to work, but wait. The wood they've just laid out DOESN'T MATCH the rest of the floor. It's going to look ridiculous to have it patched up with non-matching wood.
Ok, so now's it's 6 weeks (or 6 years, I don't know anymore) later, which brings us to yesterday and a constant parade of different people through the house, packing up boxes - did I forget to tell you that at the same time we had the hardwood floors put in, we also had some extra pantry cabinets and an island put in to give us some extra space?, well these now have to be completely emptied, dismantled and removed, so they can rip out the wood underneath - taking off the baseboards and generally getting the house ready for the floors to be removed. When I left my house yesterday for work, I said to the very friendly, chatty, sketchy-looking guy who was removing my baseboards, "Be sure to lock up when you leave." Which he did.
Today, while I was out, yet more mystery people were in my house, removing the boards and not covering anything up while leaving thick layers of dust on virtually everything. Yes, my bananas, my grapes, my wedding photo album. Nothing was left out.
So where does this leave me? Well, the work should be done by Friday, for starters. We should be tired of take-out pizza by then. I'm counting on another parade of people to come back, this time to replace my island and pantry, then unpack all the boxes into the cupboards and drawers, and hopefully do a bang-up job of removing the dust. I've always hated dusting (it's the last job I tend to get to), so my nemesis has come to haunt me.
I'm trying to find some lessons to be learned through all this. I'm thinking of something along the lines of the-more-stuff-you-have-the-more-that-can-go-wrong. That's not really going to help me much at this point.
And so, I smile through gritted (and gritty - there's a lot of dust in the air) teeth and say, "Thank goodness for house insurance!"
I wasn't surprised to find my floor missing, but I was surprised (which you could interpret: stunned, irritated, flabbergasted) to see the dust. Now, I'm not a professional floor remover, but shouldn't a rule of the trade be to cover things before you're about to create such a mess? Especially electronics such as TVs, DVD players, etc.?
Let me go back to the beginning of the story for a bit. When we moved into this house in June of last year, we decided to have the salmon-coloured, blackened-grouted tile removed from our entire main floor. Not really our thing. The idea was to have this work done before we moved all our stuff into the house, as we had some overlap with possession dates. A smart move indeed, as it was a disgusting, noisy, dusty, ridiculous process. However, we were very happy with the results of our new hardwood.
Fast forward now to October, when Connor shouts up from the basement one relaxing Sunday afternoon, "Why is the ceiling (and wall and floor and couch) all wet? Why is there water coming out of the ceiling?" It turns out that a nail had been hammered into a pipe behind the bathroom on the main floor (likely when the hardwood was put in in June) and that pipe had decided to burst that particular morning while we were out at church. Really, no rhyme or reason to it.
Many frustrating phone calls and service people and weeks later, we finally have the basement all fixed up. (For a little extra fun, while the wall was exposed in the basement, we discovered an unrelated crack in the foundation, which we subsequently had fixed.) There's all new laminate, drywall, paint, and the door to the bathroom even closes! (no thanks to the guy who decided to reattach the door but not bother to make sure it closed.) Progress is being made.
Finally, it's time to replace the area on the main floor outside the bathroom with some new hardwood, where the wood had buckled. (Just remembered - I forgot to tell you about the 3 industrial fans we had sucking up every last bit of moisture in the floor and walls and our skin for 4 days back in October. Imagine a 747 and all its friends taking off from your powder room for 4 days straight - somehow we stayed sane!) The flooring guys come in with all their gear and are ready to get to work, but wait. The wood they've just laid out DOESN'T MATCH the rest of the floor. It's going to look ridiculous to have it patched up with non-matching wood.
Ok, so now's it's 6 weeks (or 6 years, I don't know anymore) later, which brings us to yesterday and a constant parade of different people through the house, packing up boxes - did I forget to tell you that at the same time we had the hardwood floors put in, we also had some extra pantry cabinets and an island put in to give us some extra space?, well these now have to be completely emptied, dismantled and removed, so they can rip out the wood underneath - taking off the baseboards and generally getting the house ready for the floors to be removed. When I left my house yesterday for work, I said to the very friendly, chatty, sketchy-looking guy who was removing my baseboards, "Be sure to lock up when you leave." Which he did.
Today, while I was out, yet more mystery people were in my house, removing the boards and not covering anything up while leaving thick layers of dust on virtually everything. Yes, my bananas, my grapes, my wedding photo album. Nothing was left out.
So where does this leave me? Well, the work should be done by Friday, for starters. We should be tired of take-out pizza by then. I'm counting on another parade of people to come back, this time to replace my island and pantry, then unpack all the boxes into the cupboards and drawers, and hopefully do a bang-up job of removing the dust. I've always hated dusting (it's the last job I tend to get to), so my nemesis has come to haunt me.
I'm trying to find some lessons to be learned through all this. I'm thinking of something along the lines of the-more-stuff-you-have-the-more-that-can-go-wrong. That's not really going to help me much at this point.
And so, I smile through gritted (and gritty - there's a lot of dust in the air) teeth and say, "Thank goodness for house insurance!"
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Bingo
I learned a new language yesterday - Bingo. My previous experience with Bingo included fun family nights at the kids' school and it was all very simple. But with terms such as Accumulator, Double Action Progressive, Catch the Star Bonus Progressive and Toonie Pot Plus, I felt like I'd stepped into another world.
Our kids' swim club is one of many organizations that hosts a bingo event every week. This happens at the local bingo club, which has been a staple in our city for many years. As soon as you enter the building, you feel like you've entered another dimension and another era. The bingo hall hosts approximately 40 sessions every single week, where people come and play bingo for a few hours, morning, noon, afternoon, evening and night. Endless options. Countless tables and chairs are lined up facing the stage where a rather morose looking woman calls the games and balls.
It's a huge business - people drop money for cards with no hesitation and it's serious business for them. In the few hours I was there, there weren't many smiles to be seen, or laughs to be heard. The term "fun and games" does not apply here - this may be a game they're playing but I'm quite sure they're not playing for fun.
There is a sort of desperation in their eyes - maybe today will be the day they "win big." How much does a person have to spend before they win big? What if they never win big? It is so easy to see how this becomes an addiction. It really is not a happy place.
And the irony floors me. All the money raised from the bingos goes towards over 40 different charities/organizations/clubs in the area. I raise funds and rack up volunteer hours by helping out. It's great that so many organizations can support themselves and their members this way. But at what cost? I'd be lying if I said the bingo players didn't fall into a certain stereotype. Of course, there were a few who seemed out of place, but the vast majority were a very lonely and desperate-looking lot, and they are the ones reducing the fees at my childrens' swim club. It's not even a social activity - most people arrived and sat alone.
Is it just me, or does society go about things in very unusual ways? Why should I benefit from the addictions of others? Perhaps I have a sense of naivete about this whole situation, but I had never seen its hard reality before. Thoughts to ponder from the bingo hall...
Our kids' swim club is one of many organizations that hosts a bingo event every week. This happens at the local bingo club, which has been a staple in our city for many years. As soon as you enter the building, you feel like you've entered another dimension and another era. The bingo hall hosts approximately 40 sessions every single week, where people come and play bingo for a few hours, morning, noon, afternoon, evening and night. Endless options. Countless tables and chairs are lined up facing the stage where a rather morose looking woman calls the games and balls.
It's a huge business - people drop money for cards with no hesitation and it's serious business for them. In the few hours I was there, there weren't many smiles to be seen, or laughs to be heard. The term "fun and games" does not apply here - this may be a game they're playing but I'm quite sure they're not playing for fun.
There is a sort of desperation in their eyes - maybe today will be the day they "win big." How much does a person have to spend before they win big? What if they never win big? It is so easy to see how this becomes an addiction. It really is not a happy place.
And the irony floors me. All the money raised from the bingos goes towards over 40 different charities/organizations/clubs in the area. I raise funds and rack up volunteer hours by helping out. It's great that so many organizations can support themselves and their members this way. But at what cost? I'd be lying if I said the bingo players didn't fall into a certain stereotype. Of course, there were a few who seemed out of place, but the vast majority were a very lonely and desperate-looking lot, and they are the ones reducing the fees at my childrens' swim club. It's not even a social activity - most people arrived and sat alone.
Is it just me, or does society go about things in very unusual ways? Why should I benefit from the addictions of others? Perhaps I have a sense of naivete about this whole situation, but I had never seen its hard reality before. Thoughts to ponder from the bingo hall...
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Pink Ribbons, Inc.
There's a movie coming out this month called Pink Ribbons, Inc. Perhaps you've seen the trailer, and if not, you should. Here's the link: Pink Ribbons, Inc. - movie trailer - NaturalNews.tv. I'm curious to know what your thoughts are. It talks about the commercialization of the pink ribbon, exposing it as a sham. I'm sure the movie will be controversial, but I'm also sure it's going to hit home with a lot of people.
Most of you probably have your own "pet issues", those issues that make you want to get on your soap box and shout! I have a few of my own: when I see a vehicle not using its indicator when turning or changing lanes, when I see adults smoking around children and this whole issue of "let's see how much money we can raise so we can put an end to breast (or other) cancer". I've struggled with this issue for a long time. Having a very personal connection to this wretched disease gives me a vested interest, I suppose you could say. (My mom passed away from breast cancer when I was 13, and her sister, my aunt, is a 15+ year survivor of the same disease).
I, too, have been caught up in "pink fever." I've donated to charity runs, bought the pink hats and pink ribbons and pink pins, as well as a myriad of other products with the pink ribbon symbol proudly displayed, promising to donate to a cure. It's difficult to avoid these items every where you go - the grocery store selling everything from mushrooms to toilet paper to orange juice with the symbol. The trailer for the movie mentions that a specific foundation has raised over a billion dollars since its inception to try to find a cure. How many more billions until we find the elusive cure?
I just can't understand how we haven't found the cure with all that money. If finding a cure was simply a matter of just raising more money, couldn't we have come up with enough money by now, somehow? I want to know how this money is making a difference - is the "cure" just around the corner? Is the cure finding a magic drug that will instantly cure the disease as soon as it's diagnosed? Is it yet another invasive and debilitating treatment with countless side effects - treatments that render you sicker than the disease appears to? Have we as a society accepted this disease as a "natural" sickness that a certain percentage of women is destined to have?
I want to know why we so rarely hear of preventing breast cancer. The dictionary says that a cure is healing or being healed, a remedy, or a medical treatment. Maybe it's time we start talking about raising money to find a prevention. A cure suggests waiting until the disease manifests, then getting rid of it. Shouldn't our money be better spent trying to figure out how to avoid getting the disease in the first place? I don't want to take away from the fact that many, many women have been cured of breast cancer - obviously there are treatments and medicines that do work. But wouldn't our health care system be better served by seeking prevention instead of a cure?
As pretty as that pink mixer might look on your kitchen counter, is the money being donated from its purchase actually going to save a life, or is it merely padding the deep pockets of a company? Like the trailer says, how can a company with carcinogens in its ingredient list put a pink ribbon on their package? This is outrageous to me. Hypocrisy, even. I'm hoping this movie will answer a lot of these questions, because I believe it's time to start looking at this issue from a completely different perspective.
I'd love to know what your thoughts on this subject are. I don't judge if you've purchased or donated to pink ribbon causes, because I've done it too. Is it time to stop? To demand that our donations are spent differently??
Talk to me...
Most of you probably have your own "pet issues", those issues that make you want to get on your soap box and shout! I have a few of my own: when I see a vehicle not using its indicator when turning or changing lanes, when I see adults smoking around children and this whole issue of "let's see how much money we can raise so we can put an end to breast (or other) cancer". I've struggled with this issue for a long time. Having a very personal connection to this wretched disease gives me a vested interest, I suppose you could say. (My mom passed away from breast cancer when I was 13, and her sister, my aunt, is a 15+ year survivor of the same disease).
I, too, have been caught up in "pink fever." I've donated to charity runs, bought the pink hats and pink ribbons and pink pins, as well as a myriad of other products with the pink ribbon symbol proudly displayed, promising to donate to a cure. It's difficult to avoid these items every where you go - the grocery store selling everything from mushrooms to toilet paper to orange juice with the symbol. The trailer for the movie mentions that a specific foundation has raised over a billion dollars since its inception to try to find a cure. How many more billions until we find the elusive cure?
I just can't understand how we haven't found the cure with all that money. If finding a cure was simply a matter of just raising more money, couldn't we have come up with enough money by now, somehow? I want to know how this money is making a difference - is the "cure" just around the corner? Is the cure finding a magic drug that will instantly cure the disease as soon as it's diagnosed? Is it yet another invasive and debilitating treatment with countless side effects - treatments that render you sicker than the disease appears to? Have we as a society accepted this disease as a "natural" sickness that a certain percentage of women is destined to have?
I want to know why we so rarely hear of preventing breast cancer. The dictionary says that a cure is healing or being healed, a remedy, or a medical treatment. Maybe it's time we start talking about raising money to find a prevention. A cure suggests waiting until the disease manifests, then getting rid of it. Shouldn't our money be better spent trying to figure out how to avoid getting the disease in the first place? I don't want to take away from the fact that many, many women have been cured of breast cancer - obviously there are treatments and medicines that do work. But wouldn't our health care system be better served by seeking prevention instead of a cure?
As pretty as that pink mixer might look on your kitchen counter, is the money being donated from its purchase actually going to save a life, or is it merely padding the deep pockets of a company? Like the trailer says, how can a company with carcinogens in its ingredient list put a pink ribbon on their package? This is outrageous to me. Hypocrisy, even. I'm hoping this movie will answer a lot of these questions, because I believe it's time to start looking at this issue from a completely different perspective.
I'd love to know what your thoughts on this subject are. I don't judge if you've purchased or donated to pink ribbon causes, because I've done it too. Is it time to stop? To demand that our donations are spent differently??
Talk to me...
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Of New Years Resolutions & Valentine's Day
I refuse to make New Years Resolutions anymore. For me, they are an invitation to fail and I don't choose to invite failure into my life. (Disclaimer: I don't think Resolutions are bad for everyone, so go ahead and keep making yours!) In years past, I've happily committed my resolutions to paper, utterly determined that in the next 365 days, I am going to make these resolutions happen, gritted teeth notwithstanding. Never once do I look at these resolutions again to gauge how I'm doing. I don't suddenly blow the dust off the list in July and ask myself if I've succeeded.
Recently I unearthed an old journal that I used to write in as a teenager. I use the term "write" loosely, as I've never been much of a journaler, despite the fact the I love to write. There were a few scattered pages throughout the book with writing on them, mostly lists and such. But I came across a list of New Year's Resolutions, written in the early '90s, that stretched down the whole page. I apparently felt the need that year to make some serious changes in my life, although I can't really remember my life being all that bad. My list contained dozens of ideas of how I was going to improve my life that year. Eat better. Exercise more. Be nicer to people. Make more friends. Be more patient. The list goes on. All wonderful ideas, but I did I ever look back, even once, to see if I was accomplishing those things? Uh, no. Aren't goal supposed to be specific and measurable?
That may have been the last year I made New Years Resolutions, or at least ones that I bothered to write down. I've never been one to do these things just because everyone else is doing them. In fact, I'm much more likely not to do these things, because everyone else is doing them!
Which leads me to a couple of thoughts on Valentine's Day. I won't be asking for expensive jewelery or a dozen long-stemmed red roses or even a box of chocolates, and I likely won't be getting them either. Nor do I feel the need to inundate my kiddos with even more candy and chocolate than they'll already be getting. Am I sounding like a scrooge yet? I actually like the idea of giving (and receiving) unexpected gifts or cards. There is so much more meaning attached to something that is not expected or required.
Our love is not defined by the size of the gift I receive on Valentine's Day, but rather by expressions of love throughout the year. And there are many. So, honey, thanks for saving your money on over-priced roses which will just wilt anyway, and save it for something special some other time. I'm thinking tuition in a few months might be a good way to spend that money...
I can remember one Valentine's Day clearly - it was the first one while Stefan and I were dating. I didn't have a lot of experience with buying gifts for V Day, but I was pretty sure that was something you were supposed to do while dating. So off to the card store I went (at least I'd have a card if nothing else). While there I happened upon the shelf of stuffed animals, and at that moment, I somehow determined that one of these animals would make a perfect V Day gift for my boyfriend. I settled on a pale green stuffed frog with a pink mouth, hands and feet. Perfect. There were several sizes of the same frog, so, being the frugal girl I was, I bought neither the biggest nor smallest one. I'm quite sure it cost me $17, but I knew it would be money well spent.
I don't think I expected Stefan to jump up and down with excitement, or to conjure an emotional tear when I gave him his gift, and he didn't (although a little excitement might have been nice). I can't tell you what went through his head, but I remember thinking, when it was too late to retract the gift, that mayyyybe this was a bit of an unusual gift, and WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
Fast forward a few years -the frog is still with us, languishing in a box or cupboard somewhere, all but forgotten. We've just heartlessly taken away our two year old son's soother and he's not too happy. Somehow, we remember Daddy's frog, and well, the rest is history. Freddy the Frog remains the most precious and loved possession of our ten year old. He (the frog, not the boy) has been sown back together numerous times, and he's missing a little fur, but he's one of my best purchases ever - money well spent indeed!
Recently I unearthed an old journal that I used to write in as a teenager. I use the term "write" loosely, as I've never been much of a journaler, despite the fact the I love to write. There were a few scattered pages throughout the book with writing on them, mostly lists and such. But I came across a list of New Year's Resolutions, written in the early '90s, that stretched down the whole page. I apparently felt the need that year to make some serious changes in my life, although I can't really remember my life being all that bad. My list contained dozens of ideas of how I was going to improve my life that year. Eat better. Exercise more. Be nicer to people. Make more friends. Be more patient. The list goes on. All wonderful ideas, but I did I ever look back, even once, to see if I was accomplishing those things? Uh, no. Aren't goal supposed to be specific and measurable?
That may have been the last year I made New Years Resolutions, or at least ones that I bothered to write down. I've never been one to do these things just because everyone else is doing them. In fact, I'm much more likely not to do these things, because everyone else is doing them!
Which leads me to a couple of thoughts on Valentine's Day. I won't be asking for expensive jewelery or a dozen long-stemmed red roses or even a box of chocolates, and I likely won't be getting them either. Nor do I feel the need to inundate my kiddos with even more candy and chocolate than they'll already be getting. Am I sounding like a scrooge yet? I actually like the idea of giving (and receiving) unexpected gifts or cards. There is so much more meaning attached to something that is not expected or required.
Our love is not defined by the size of the gift I receive on Valentine's Day, but rather by expressions of love throughout the year. And there are many. So, honey, thanks for saving your money on over-priced roses which will just wilt anyway, and save it for something special some other time. I'm thinking tuition in a few months might be a good way to spend that money...
I can remember one Valentine's Day clearly - it was the first one while Stefan and I were dating. I didn't have a lot of experience with buying gifts for V Day, but I was pretty sure that was something you were supposed to do while dating. So off to the card store I went (at least I'd have a card if nothing else). While there I happened upon the shelf of stuffed animals, and at that moment, I somehow determined that one of these animals would make a perfect V Day gift for my boyfriend. I settled on a pale green stuffed frog with a pink mouth, hands and feet. Perfect. There were several sizes of the same frog, so, being the frugal girl I was, I bought neither the biggest nor smallest one. I'm quite sure it cost me $17, but I knew it would be money well spent.
I don't think I expected Stefan to jump up and down with excitement, or to conjure an emotional tear when I gave him his gift, and he didn't (although a little excitement might have been nice). I can't tell you what went through his head, but I remember thinking, when it was too late to retract the gift, that mayyyybe this was a bit of an unusual gift, and WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
Fast forward a few years -the frog is still with us, languishing in a box or cupboard somewhere, all but forgotten. We've just heartlessly taken away our two year old son's soother and he's not too happy. Somehow, we remember Daddy's frog, and well, the rest is history. Freddy the Frog remains the most precious and loved possession of our ten year old. He (the frog, not the boy) has been sown back together numerous times, and he's missing a little fur, but he's one of my best purchases ever - money well spent indeed!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Disappointment
It's time to hang up my cheesehead, figuratively and literally, tonight. My 15-1 Green Bay Packers lost to the New York Giants in the second week of playoffs. It was actually their first playoff game, as last week was a bye (week off) for them, so you can't argue that more rest makes a team play better.
The problem with a person's favorite team going nearly undefeated all season, after a Superbowl win last season, is that you start to think they're invincible. That they might actually pull off a second straight Superbowl win. That no one can touch them.
I started to get a little nervous last week when I found out the Packers would be playing the Giants. They're one of the few teams who gave the Packers trouble this year. I was realistic, but remained optimistic. My optimism was shaken on the third play of the game, and never recovered. I held out hope until near the end, when the Giants' lead became insurmountable.
And yes, I do realize that it's "just football." There are far more serious issues going on right now for other people, and I'm reminding myself of that by the minute. But for now, this loss really stings and I need some time to come to terms with it. That's the problem with having high, and more likely, unrealistic expectations of someone else.
We drowned our sorrows in my newly-named Sorrow Soup as we watched the game. Earlier today when I decided to make Potato Leek Soup for supper, it seemed so fitting, almost celebratory. A savoury homemade soup for a really cold day, which boasted some Packer-inspired ingredients (I promise that wasn't planned) such as leeks and celery (green) and potatoes (yellow-ish). Instead, we slurped our soup as the Giants scored yet-more touchdowns and the Packers made yet-more mistakes. Statistically, this was likely their worst game of the season. I may never make this soup again. Never mind the fact that the entire family, plus a bonus child, raved about how delicious it was. Just like a sweet, juicy strawberry reminds you of summer, the taste of this soup will remind me of football heartbreak. Bitter indeed.
I've never actually liked the Giants as a football team, as it seems they are so often the ones to bring the Packers' playoff hopes to an end. This isn't the first time they've done this, and I still haven't properly forgiven them for the last time. I think the only time I've ever cheered for them was when they were in the Superbowl against my least favorite team, the New England Patriots. So when your two least favorite teams are up against each other, you've still got to pick someone. It could happen again this year. Lets hope San Francisco (shudder) or the Baltimore Ravens pull off an upset.
But, and it pains me to say this, there are a number of Giants players that, in other circumstances, I would gladly cheer for. There's just so much talent on that team. We watched a short documentary this afternoon about one of their star players, Jason Pierre-Paul. The son of Haitian immigrants, his father became blind when Jason was just 8 months old. His dad hasn't seen his son since he was a baby, never even seen him walk, let alone play football. He doesn't even know what his boy looks like! The story is inspiring, with elements of family support and connectedness, but it's heartbreaking too. Jason's dad has never been to one of his games, because it would likely be too much for him. Imagine knowing how successful your son is and then never getting to see him in action. I had tears in my eyes watching this, but I had to remind myself that this was an opposing player! It's these kinds of stories that get me attached - they tug at the heartstrings. The players themselves aren't to be hated - it's the team as a whole that does the damage.
So, I'm feeling in the depths of despair, as Anne would have said, but I'm reminding myself of just how happy Jason's dad must be tonight. How very proud. Apparently, he'll attend the Superbowl game if his son's team makes it there. That's what I'll hold on to.
There will definitely be a feeling of emptiness tomorrow, now that our football season is essentially over. But it's a new day, and I'm sure there will be lots of great reasons to smile.
The problem with a person's favorite team going nearly undefeated all season, after a Superbowl win last season, is that you start to think they're invincible. That they might actually pull off a second straight Superbowl win. That no one can touch them.
I started to get a little nervous last week when I found out the Packers would be playing the Giants. They're one of the few teams who gave the Packers trouble this year. I was realistic, but remained optimistic. My optimism was shaken on the third play of the game, and never recovered. I held out hope until near the end, when the Giants' lead became insurmountable.
And yes, I do realize that it's "just football." There are far more serious issues going on right now for other people, and I'm reminding myself of that by the minute. But for now, this loss really stings and I need some time to come to terms with it. That's the problem with having high, and more likely, unrealistic expectations of someone else.
We drowned our sorrows in my newly-named Sorrow Soup as we watched the game. Earlier today when I decided to make Potato Leek Soup for supper, it seemed so fitting, almost celebratory. A savoury homemade soup for a really cold day, which boasted some Packer-inspired ingredients (I promise that wasn't planned) such as leeks and celery (green) and potatoes (yellow-ish). Instead, we slurped our soup as the Giants scored yet-more touchdowns and the Packers made yet-more mistakes. Statistically, this was likely their worst game of the season. I may never make this soup again. Never mind the fact that the entire family, plus a bonus child, raved about how delicious it was. Just like a sweet, juicy strawberry reminds you of summer, the taste of this soup will remind me of football heartbreak. Bitter indeed.
I've never actually liked the Giants as a football team, as it seems they are so often the ones to bring the Packers' playoff hopes to an end. This isn't the first time they've done this, and I still haven't properly forgiven them for the last time. I think the only time I've ever cheered for them was when they were in the Superbowl against my least favorite team, the New England Patriots. So when your two least favorite teams are up against each other, you've still got to pick someone. It could happen again this year. Lets hope San Francisco (shudder) or the Baltimore Ravens pull off an upset.
But, and it pains me to say this, there are a number of Giants players that, in other circumstances, I would gladly cheer for. There's just so much talent on that team. We watched a short documentary this afternoon about one of their star players, Jason Pierre-Paul. The son of Haitian immigrants, his father became blind when Jason was just 8 months old. His dad hasn't seen his son since he was a baby, never even seen him walk, let alone play football. He doesn't even know what his boy looks like! The story is inspiring, with elements of family support and connectedness, but it's heartbreaking too. Jason's dad has never been to one of his games, because it would likely be too much for him. Imagine knowing how successful your son is and then never getting to see him in action. I had tears in my eyes watching this, but I had to remind myself that this was an opposing player! It's these kinds of stories that get me attached - they tug at the heartstrings. The players themselves aren't to be hated - it's the team as a whole that does the damage.
So, I'm feeling in the depths of despair, as Anne would have said, but I'm reminding myself of just how happy Jason's dad must be tonight. How very proud. Apparently, he'll attend the Superbowl game if his son's team makes it there. That's what I'll hold on to.
There will definitely be a feeling of emptiness tomorrow, now that our football season is essentially over. But it's a new day, and I'm sure there will be lots of great reasons to smile.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Here's a copy of our Christmas letter - just a brief summary of a very eventful year in our family.
2011 was an eventful year for our family, although we certainly hadn’t planned for it to be so. Here are a few highlights of our year:
*The Green Bay Packers won the Superbowl!
*Stefan took me to a Bon Jovi concert
*lots of visits from family & friends from out west
*Connor turned 10, started grade 5, started swimming on the swim team & continues taking piano lessons. He amazes us with his skill & passion on the piano & amuses us with his long hair, which we are not allowed to cut.
*Taya turned 7, started grade 2, started swimming on the swim team (with Connor) & also continues taking piano lessons. She amazes us with her social butterfly skills & her love of reading & amuses us with her non-stop drawing & creating.
*Logan turned 6, started grade 1 & started tae kwon do & piano lessons. He amazes us with his knowledge of anything related to NFL football & amuses us with the charts he creates each week of which teams are playing & which teams he thinks are going to win. This boy loves all things football! In all fairness, with our kids, the apple(s) does not fall far from the tree(s).
*Stefan & I took our dream trip to Green Bay,WI to see Lambeau Field & to take in a Packers game.
*I applied to go back to school! Some people think I’m crazy, but I’m quite excited about it. I’ve applied for an after-degree Communications program that starts next September. In the meantime, I’m working at Starbucks & getting in lots of volunteer experience at a community newspaper & doing some proofreading for a magazine.
*We moved! We didn’t see that one coming either. With our “school/pool” fund being empty, we decided to downsize. As a bonus, our new home, which is just around the corner from our old one, has a pool. With such a hot summer, we made very good use of it!
In November, we “adopted” a little girl named Ketrina from Malawi into our family. It’s one small step towards trying to make the world a better place, or to at least make the world a better place for one other person. My challenge to you for 2012 – how are you going to make the world a better place for someone else this year?
2012 promises to be another eventful year for us, full of change & excitement. Our family wishes you peace & blessings this Christmas & a new year full of joy!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Normal Day
"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return." - Mary Jean Irons
I just love this poem. There is such a depth of truth in it. The poet has so obviously lived this - I want to live by this! Most of my days are, indeed, normal. One day they may not be. I want to treasure these normal ones, with all their frustrations and pressures and annoyances and be thankful for them.
Sometimes there is a rare and perfect tomorrow, but hoping for one in place of enjoying today is not a good use of my time and energy and passion.
Life is normal and good, and I'm thankful.
I just love this poem. There is such a depth of truth in it. The poet has so obviously lived this - I want to live by this! Most of my days are, indeed, normal. One day they may not be. I want to treasure these normal ones, with all their frustrations and pressures and annoyances and be thankful for them.
Sometimes there is a rare and perfect tomorrow, but hoping for one in place of enjoying today is not a good use of my time and energy and passion.
Life is normal and good, and I'm thankful.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Memories of Green Bay
Whoever said that Disneyland is the happiest place on earth obviously hasn't been to Green Bay, Wisconsin! Perhaps I've arrived at this conclusion with a somewhat biased point of view, seeing as how Green Bay is home to my favorite team, the Packers. Feel free to keep that in mind while I tell you why this diehard Packers fan was in her happy place this past weekend.
For my 37th (gasp - late thirties!) birthday, my husband surprised me with a hotel reservation in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I actually don't know any other person that would be pleased to receive that as a gift, but I was ecstatic, as in heart racing, butterflies in my stomach ecstatic, with a small scream or two thrown in for good measure. Hotel rooms in Green Bay are notoriously hard to come by during the NFL season; in fact, our room was the last room available at this hotel - and this was almost 6 months ago.
We left Toronto early Friday morning. We drove away from our house with our daughter's weeping face pressed against the window, her mournful cries lingering in our ears, and with our youngest son's tears only recently dried. As cruel as we felt leaving them behind (they were staying with their grandparents, not alone or anything callous like that), we were giddy with freedom and anticipation!
Because there is no such thing as a direct flight to Green Bay from Toronto, we made a two hour stop in Detroit. With all that time to kill, we did some terminal hopping to find the only Starbucks in the whole airport. The coffee was good (of course) but the bagel was average (no toaster) and the chocolate muffin was thoroughly awful. But we were hungry... After another quick flight and another full plane (we didn't even get to sit together this time), we landed in our happy place.
Now, everyone has a very different idea of what their happy place is. You might have more than one happy place, or it might change over time. I think it's important to have a happy place or two. I have a photo taken of me several years ago. I'm sitting in a rented Mustang convertible, top down, of course (the car, not me), parked across the street from the beach in San Diego, with a Starbucks cup in hand. The caption reads "My happy place."
Well, I've discovered a new happy place and it's called Green Bay, Wisconsin, or perhaps more specifically, Lambeau Field. We took a Stadium tour the morning after we arrived and got to see parts of Lambeau that people never get to see on game day. We stood on the ground next to the playing field (we were explicitly directed by our tour guides not to stand on, touch, or lick the grass - actions they've had to deal with in the past) and I looked up at 73000 empty seats and heard the roar of the fighter jets as they practiced their game day flyover and I was in my happy place.
*As a side note, I've always thought that the Packers were named after cheese packers. Turns out the original players were a bunch of guys from a meat packing factory who had a habit of soundly defeating every team they played.
On Friday afternoon, we wandered past a fenced off parking area where a handful of fans were waiting. This is the area where the players and coaches come out after practice and it's a golden opportunity to score an autograph. It's hit and miss whether the players will stop for an autograph, but I did manage to score one from cornerback Tramon Williams. The players parking lot was a shining array of tricked-out, pimped-up, black-tinted Chevy Escalades, Land Rovers and Suburbans. Big shiny vehicles for big shiny football players.
It's game day...
Sitting in the lobby of our hotel, looking out the window to my right, I can see the top of the stadium, not even a ten minute walk away. Everywhere I look outside, there are people dressed in ridiculous green and yellow get-ups (but who's judging) and there are cars and RVs pulling into parking lots, setting up hibachis for a day of tailgating. The lobby is buzzing with excitement and I can't find even one person, myself included, who is not sporting team colors. There are a couple guys wearing visiting team colors who stand out like sore thumbs. I have yet to see an age or gender demographic not represented in the crowd, although there seem to be a disproportionate number of beer-bellied thirty and forty-something guys. Packer fans transcend these sorts of divisions.
It's a perfect day here in Green Bay - the sky is cloudless and a brilliant October blue. The grass is still a vibrant green, in keeping with team spirit. The leaves are just starting to turn, but green still dominates.
The tailgaters have arrived in full force and no effort has been spared. The smell of charcoal permeates the fall air along with the aromas of beer and chili, and it's not even lunch time. Walking past tables laden with every kind of snack food you can imagine is a feast for the eyes. Fans and their vehicles are completely decked out in every imaginable combination of green and yellow, and even some you didn't imagine. It's like the merchandise at the Pro Shop - if you can color it green and yellow and put the Packers G on it, they probably have. (In fact, they claim to have over 2000 unique emblemmed items). They call the Pro Shop Packer fan nirvana, and I have to agree. Some items, such as the Packer-themed crib mobile, the shower curtain and the ladies logo-ed underwear, are borderline silly. You could even buy a tiny glass enclosure housing a few actual blades of grass from their recent Superbowl win - maybe those wanting to lick the grass could just break the glass and have a go?... Some of my favorite items? The football chandelier, the chess/checkers game using miniature team helmets and all the variations on the famous cheesehead.
Time to head to the stadium for the main reason we've come to Green Bay - to watch the Packers hammer out a win on their home turf. The parties are still in full swing as we get closer to the stadium and it feels like a pilgrimage of sorts for us. Not all these fans have tickets to the game. Many are still trying to get a ticket as the minutes count down to kick-off, but no one is selling. We experience our first and only annoyance of the weekend as we join a tightly packed throng of bodies trying to get into the stadium. We've all got our precious tickets, but first we must get through our security scan, conducted by no more than half a dozen Green Bay police officers. Just to clarify - that's about 6 officers for the entire crowd, not per person. Needless to say, it took a long time to get in, but we found our seats with plenty of time to spare before kick-off.
We had fantastic seats, just a few rows up from the field on the goal line, on the visitors side of the field. For the first two hours of the game we had the sun shining directly in our faces, keeping us plenty warm. Part of the magic of Lambeau Field is their well-deserved, hard-earned nickname Frozen Tundra - it's a huge advantage over teams visiting from less-hardy parts of the country. We were thankful to come to a game at this time of year, when all we needed was a t-shirt and sunglasses, not parkas and thermal underwear.
I'm not going to give you a play-by-play of the game, partly because I couldn't do it justice, and partly because that's old news already (and this post is really, really long). There were numerous times throughout the game when I turned to Stefan and gushed, "I can't believe we're actually HERE!" Whether it was seeing the glint of the sun off the players' helmets, or watching Greg Jennings catch yet another touchdown pass, or cheering as Aaron Rodgers came just a few yards away from breaking Brett Favre's passing record, or feeling the roar of the crowd as we chanted, as one, "GO PACK GO!" - each experience defined this magical day.
Leaving Lambeau Field was bittersweet - the dream realized, but now over. I found myself turning my head often for one last look as we walked away from the stadium, easier said than done while walking through crowds of (mostly drunk) people. To know and have experienced the history and legend that are the Green Bay Packers and Lambeau Field is truly special. To have shared it all with someone who appreciates it as much as I do made the weekend perfect.
For my 37th (gasp - late thirties!) birthday, my husband surprised me with a hotel reservation in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I actually don't know any other person that would be pleased to receive that as a gift, but I was ecstatic, as in heart racing, butterflies in my stomach ecstatic, with a small scream or two thrown in for good measure. Hotel rooms in Green Bay are notoriously hard to come by during the NFL season; in fact, our room was the last room available at this hotel - and this was almost 6 months ago.
We left Toronto early Friday morning. We drove away from our house with our daughter's weeping face pressed against the window, her mournful cries lingering in our ears, and with our youngest son's tears only recently dried. As cruel as we felt leaving them behind (they were staying with their grandparents, not alone or anything callous like that), we were giddy with freedom and anticipation!
Because there is no such thing as a direct flight to Green Bay from Toronto, we made a two hour stop in Detroit. With all that time to kill, we did some terminal hopping to find the only Starbucks in the whole airport. The coffee was good (of course) but the bagel was average (no toaster) and the chocolate muffin was thoroughly awful. But we were hungry... After another quick flight and another full plane (we didn't even get to sit together this time), we landed in our happy place.
Now, everyone has a very different idea of what their happy place is. You might have more than one happy place, or it might change over time. I think it's important to have a happy place or two. I have a photo taken of me several years ago. I'm sitting in a rented Mustang convertible, top down, of course (the car, not me), parked across the street from the beach in San Diego, with a Starbucks cup in hand. The caption reads "My happy place."
Well, I've discovered a new happy place and it's called Green Bay, Wisconsin, or perhaps more specifically, Lambeau Field. We took a Stadium tour the morning after we arrived and got to see parts of Lambeau that people never get to see on game day. We stood on the ground next to the playing field (we were explicitly directed by our tour guides not to stand on, touch, or lick the grass - actions they've had to deal with in the past) and I looked up at 73000 empty seats and heard the roar of the fighter jets as they practiced their game day flyover and I was in my happy place.
*As a side note, I've always thought that the Packers were named after cheese packers. Turns out the original players were a bunch of guys from a meat packing factory who had a habit of soundly defeating every team they played.
On Friday afternoon, we wandered past a fenced off parking area where a handful of fans were waiting. This is the area where the players and coaches come out after practice and it's a golden opportunity to score an autograph. It's hit and miss whether the players will stop for an autograph, but I did manage to score one from cornerback Tramon Williams. The players parking lot was a shining array of tricked-out, pimped-up, black-tinted Chevy Escalades, Land Rovers and Suburbans. Big shiny vehicles for big shiny football players.
It's game day...
Sitting in the lobby of our hotel, looking out the window to my right, I can see the top of the stadium, not even a ten minute walk away. Everywhere I look outside, there are people dressed in ridiculous green and yellow get-ups (but who's judging) and there are cars and RVs pulling into parking lots, setting up hibachis for a day of tailgating. The lobby is buzzing with excitement and I can't find even one person, myself included, who is not sporting team colors. There are a couple guys wearing visiting team colors who stand out like sore thumbs. I have yet to see an age or gender demographic not represented in the crowd, although there seem to be a disproportionate number of beer-bellied thirty and forty-something guys. Packer fans transcend these sorts of divisions.
It's a perfect day here in Green Bay - the sky is cloudless and a brilliant October blue. The grass is still a vibrant green, in keeping with team spirit. The leaves are just starting to turn, but green still dominates.
The tailgaters have arrived in full force and no effort has been spared. The smell of charcoal permeates the fall air along with the aromas of beer and chili, and it's not even lunch time. Walking past tables laden with every kind of snack food you can imagine is a feast for the eyes. Fans and their vehicles are completely decked out in every imaginable combination of green and yellow, and even some you didn't imagine. It's like the merchandise at the Pro Shop - if you can color it green and yellow and put the Packers G on it, they probably have. (In fact, they claim to have over 2000 unique emblemmed items). They call the Pro Shop Packer fan nirvana, and I have to agree. Some items, such as the Packer-themed crib mobile, the shower curtain and the ladies logo-ed underwear, are borderline silly. You could even buy a tiny glass enclosure housing a few actual blades of grass from their recent Superbowl win - maybe those wanting to lick the grass could just break the glass and have a go?... Some of my favorite items? The football chandelier, the chess/checkers game using miniature team helmets and all the variations on the famous cheesehead.
Time to head to the stadium for the main reason we've come to Green Bay - to watch the Packers hammer out a win on their home turf. The parties are still in full swing as we get closer to the stadium and it feels like a pilgrimage of sorts for us. Not all these fans have tickets to the game. Many are still trying to get a ticket as the minutes count down to kick-off, but no one is selling. We experience our first and only annoyance of the weekend as we join a tightly packed throng of bodies trying to get into the stadium. We've all got our precious tickets, but first we must get through our security scan, conducted by no more than half a dozen Green Bay police officers. Just to clarify - that's about 6 officers for the entire crowd, not per person. Needless to say, it took a long time to get in, but we found our seats with plenty of time to spare before kick-off.
We had fantastic seats, just a few rows up from the field on the goal line, on the visitors side of the field. For the first two hours of the game we had the sun shining directly in our faces, keeping us plenty warm. Part of the magic of Lambeau Field is their well-deserved, hard-earned nickname Frozen Tundra - it's a huge advantage over teams visiting from less-hardy parts of the country. We were thankful to come to a game at this time of year, when all we needed was a t-shirt and sunglasses, not parkas and thermal underwear.
I'm not going to give you a play-by-play of the game, partly because I couldn't do it justice, and partly because that's old news already (and this post is really, really long). There were numerous times throughout the game when I turned to Stefan and gushed, "I can't believe we're actually HERE!" Whether it was seeing the glint of the sun off the players' helmets, or watching Greg Jennings catch yet another touchdown pass, or cheering as Aaron Rodgers came just a few yards away from breaking Brett Favre's passing record, or feeling the roar of the crowd as we chanted, as one, "GO PACK GO!" - each experience defined this magical day.
Leaving Lambeau Field was bittersweet - the dream realized, but now over. I found myself turning my head often for one last look as we walked away from the stadium, easier said than done while walking through crowds of (mostly drunk) people. To know and have experienced the history and legend that are the Green Bay Packers and Lambeau Field is truly special. To have shared it all with someone who appreciates it as much as I do made the weekend perfect.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Various States of Chaos
This title basically sums up life over the last month or so, although I guess it all began to some degree when we decided to move, back in February. I remember a calm moment in early February - the Packers had just won the Superbowl (amazing how I can find ways to sneak that into just about any conversation), and we were getting ready to go to the Bon Jovi concert. I was thinking that life was moving along smoothly, and surely it couldn't last. (cue ominous music...) We had a lot going on, but life was generally calm and predictable. It was definitely exciting, based on the above two events.
The minute we decided upon a move, was the minute the chaos, to some degree, began. Between decluttering and cleaning the entire house, putting it up for sale, keeping it clean for showings and an open house, all while thinking in the back of my mind that I really should be packing - well, I always felt just a wee bit frantic. Actually, there were times where it was full blown, but I won't tell you about all my bad moments! Thankfully my children have relatively short memories about certain things, in addition to be being very forgiving, so we'll just move on.
There was a lull in the chaos once the house was sold and before the packing had to begin in earnest. But I still always felt that I should really be doing something more. Thankfully my mother-in-law came out to help us move at the end of June, and brought with her so much peace of mind and a really helpful level of calm. But before we could move anything into our new place, there were some renos to be done - the (really ugly, black-grouted, terra-cotta) tile on the main floor was ripped out (that is no small endeavor), and then some kitchen cabinets and countertops were installed. We got through the move itself, my mother-in-law went home, the kids finished school, our relatives came to visit from Calgary on their cross-Canada vacation, and then it felt like we should be settled.
But July has been busier than I was thinking it would be. There are swimming lessons twice a week, vbs for the kids, Connor at summer camp, my shifts at work, and a never-ending stream of friends coming over for a swim! Now I really am not complaining about this, because I am thrilled with how much use the kids are getting out of our pool. The summer has been non-stop hot, so I am forced to sit out on the deck and supervise the kids in the pool. It really isn't such a bad gig. The only problem is that stuff isn't getting done in the house, which leads to my various states of chaos. Sure, I can start the laundry and even put it in the dryer, but folding it? That can take days to happen, and by then it's a wrinkled heap and I might as well start over.
So, there are all these little pockets of "chaos" throughout my house (closets and drawers and desks and a garage to organize, heaps of things to sell, toss or recycle, paperwork to deal with) and I am making myself not worry about them. I regularly remind myself that I can deal with them in winter (not sure the laundry can wait that long, but you get the idea). I don't want to waste precious moments of summer sorting through miscellaneous boxes whose contents don't yet have a home. Summer is much too short. I will attempt to embrace the chaos and if I can't embrace it, then I will ignore it. Ignoring it won't make it go away, I know, but I'm hoping it will seem less chaotic when I finally decide to tackle it.
The minute we decided upon a move, was the minute the chaos, to some degree, began. Between decluttering and cleaning the entire house, putting it up for sale, keeping it clean for showings and an open house, all while thinking in the back of my mind that I really should be packing - well, I always felt just a wee bit frantic. Actually, there were times where it was full blown, but I won't tell you about all my bad moments! Thankfully my children have relatively short memories about certain things, in addition to be being very forgiving, so we'll just move on.
There was a lull in the chaos once the house was sold and before the packing had to begin in earnest. But I still always felt that I should really be doing something more. Thankfully my mother-in-law came out to help us move at the end of June, and brought with her so much peace of mind and a really helpful level of calm. But before we could move anything into our new place, there were some renos to be done - the (really ugly, black-grouted, terra-cotta) tile on the main floor was ripped out (that is no small endeavor), and then some kitchen cabinets and countertops were installed. We got through the move itself, my mother-in-law went home, the kids finished school, our relatives came to visit from Calgary on their cross-Canada vacation, and then it felt like we should be settled.
But July has been busier than I was thinking it would be. There are swimming lessons twice a week, vbs for the kids, Connor at summer camp, my shifts at work, and a never-ending stream of friends coming over for a swim! Now I really am not complaining about this, because I am thrilled with how much use the kids are getting out of our pool. The summer has been non-stop hot, so I am forced to sit out on the deck and supervise the kids in the pool. It really isn't such a bad gig. The only problem is that stuff isn't getting done in the house, which leads to my various states of chaos. Sure, I can start the laundry and even put it in the dryer, but folding it? That can take days to happen, and by then it's a wrinkled heap and I might as well start over.
So, there are all these little pockets of "chaos" throughout my house (closets and drawers and desks and a garage to organize, heaps of things to sell, toss or recycle, paperwork to deal with) and I am making myself not worry about them. I regularly remind myself that I can deal with them in winter (not sure the laundry can wait that long, but you get the idea). I don't want to waste precious moments of summer sorting through miscellaneous boxes whose contents don't yet have a home. Summer is much too short. I will attempt to embrace the chaos and if I can't embrace it, then I will ignore it. Ignoring it won't make it go away, I know, but I'm hoping it will seem less chaotic when I finally decide to tackle it.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Stealing Kisses
Now doesn't that sound like a risque title? Sorry to disappoint, but there's nothing risque about this post!
Ben Harper sings a song called "Steal my Kisses" that I've always loved. It's a cute, catchy little song - you can listen to it on Youtube, I'm sure. Lately I've been singing this song in my head a lot, as "stealing kisses" is what I sometimes have to do with my kids! There are a few ways this is done...
When Connor was much younger (I can't remember what age we started this) he went through a phase where he really wasn't into getting kisses from his mommy. So I would plead, beg even, with him for just...insert any number here. It turned into a game where I gave him 20 kisses, and then I had to be done. He loved counting them, so of course I'd always sneak in a few extra to see if he'd notice, which he did. But he grew to love the game and grew out of his aversion to kisses. This was my attempt at stealing as many kisses as I could, while he still let me. We had a lot of fun with this for several years and it became our bedtime ritual, although it does happen more infrequently now. However, I'm grateful for each of those stolen kisses! He'll still ask for those kisses on occasion, but I know this won't last forever.
Then it was Logan's turn to have an aversion to kisses (thankfully Taya hasn't had that), and he would immediately and frantically wipe off any kisses that I managed to land on his face. But the kid is just so darn smoochable, that something had to be done. I need to give that boy kisses! Lots and lots of kisses. I talked him into giving me a couple kisses once after a meal, but I pointed to spots on my face where he had to plant the kisses. Then at just the right moment, I planted a kiss right on his lips, which totally surprised him. But he thought it was hilarious, and now it's the best game ever. We take turns giving each other kisses and surprising each other with the stolen kiss, which of course makes us shriek with laughter. The best part is that now all 3 kids want to play the game (not with each other), so while it lasts, I plan to savour each one of those sweet kisses.
So perhaps I'm stealing kisses, but there's no guilt involved in this theft! I won't even tell you about all the stolen kisses while they are fast asleep...
Ben Harper sings a song called "Steal my Kisses" that I've always loved. It's a cute, catchy little song - you can listen to it on Youtube, I'm sure. Lately I've been singing this song in my head a lot, as "stealing kisses" is what I sometimes have to do with my kids! There are a few ways this is done...
When Connor was much younger (I can't remember what age we started this) he went through a phase where he really wasn't into getting kisses from his mommy. So I would plead, beg even, with him for just...insert any number here. It turned into a game where I gave him 20 kisses, and then I had to be done. He loved counting them, so of course I'd always sneak in a few extra to see if he'd notice, which he did. But he grew to love the game and grew out of his aversion to kisses. This was my attempt at stealing as many kisses as I could, while he still let me. We had a lot of fun with this for several years and it became our bedtime ritual, although it does happen more infrequently now. However, I'm grateful for each of those stolen kisses! He'll still ask for those kisses on occasion, but I know this won't last forever.
Then it was Logan's turn to have an aversion to kisses (thankfully Taya hasn't had that), and he would immediately and frantically wipe off any kisses that I managed to land on his face. But the kid is just so darn smoochable, that something had to be done. I need to give that boy kisses! Lots and lots of kisses. I talked him into giving me a couple kisses once after a meal, but I pointed to spots on my face where he had to plant the kisses. Then at just the right moment, I planted a kiss right on his lips, which totally surprised him. But he thought it was hilarious, and now it's the best game ever. We take turns giving each other kisses and surprising each other with the stolen kiss, which of course makes us shriek with laughter. The best part is that now all 3 kids want to play the game (not with each other), so while it lasts, I plan to savour each one of those sweet kisses.
So perhaps I'm stealing kisses, but there's no guilt involved in this theft! I won't even tell you about all the stolen kisses while they are fast asleep...
Monday, May 23, 2011
May Musings
As usual, late April and May are very busy times in our family. Starting with Connor's birthday, then moving on to Mother's Day, our anniversary, my birthday and Taya's birthday and throw in a whole bunch of other stuff like kids' activities, volunteering, piano recitals and visitors, and there are few minutes to spare. Spring has finally arrived, a few weeks later than usual, but now everything is green and full and beautiful.
We are gearing up to move next month, as well. We're staying in our neighborhood - moving about 200 yards up the road. It all came about very suddenly, but it became obvious that moving was going to be a very prudent decision. In addition to needing to replace our roof this summer and restain the whole deck, we were also wanting to put in a pool, travel, and start saving for me to go back to school. Well, since money does not grow on the trees in our particular forest, we chose to downsize. The bonus is that even though we'll end up with a smaller house and yard, we gain a finished basement and a backyard pool! Those were definite selling features for the kids.
It really all happened so fast - one minute we were discussing plans for the future, the next we were putting an offer on a house. It just so happened that a near-perfect-for-us house had just been listed, and we had to take advantage quickly. We knew we didn't want to leave our neighborhood, where the kids have lots of friends within walking distance, and very few houses come up for sale in this neighborhood. It all seemed meant to be. While I'm not looking forward to the actual move, and we will most definitely miss this yard, we're looking forward to the pool, to much smaller utility bills, to lower property tax, and to the freedom that comes with knowing you've made a wise, albeit difficult, decision. All the purging and decluttering is an added bonus. It feels really, really good to get rid of so much extra stuff that we were only keeping because we had so much extra space. I am a firm believer that stuff literally and figuratively weighs a person down.
On another note, I've reached the milestone of "late thirties." I can no longer say I'm in my mid-thirties. Birthdays always bring mixed feelings, because I always feel that the actual number is in no way representative of how old I feel (maybe 22), but I'm also incredibly thankful for each birthday, that I am blessed to turn older. And, just for me perhaps, the world did not end before I could turn 37. It was a great day of relaxation, family, gifts, dinner and a movie with friends. Stefan surprised me with a hotel reservation in Green Bay, Wisconsin at the end of September. Assuming that there is a football season this fall (they're on strike currently), we will be spending 3 nights in Green Bay, and I will get to experience Lambeau Field in person. I am ridiculously excited about this and just keeping my fingers crossed that the strike ends in time.
It's a busy week ahead as we get ready to celebrate our little/big girl turning 7! Hard to believe she is so grown up already. She is a spark of fun in our family - she keeps us laughing and can sneak up on anyone and give them a big scare. She is very creative - never stops coloring and drawing and dancing. We sure love our Taya!
And now I need to get the kids to bed, so I can watch a movie with a friend. Ciao!
We are gearing up to move next month, as well. We're staying in our neighborhood - moving about 200 yards up the road. It all came about very suddenly, but it became obvious that moving was going to be a very prudent decision. In addition to needing to replace our roof this summer and restain the whole deck, we were also wanting to put in a pool, travel, and start saving for me to go back to school. Well, since money does not grow on the trees in our particular forest, we chose to downsize. The bonus is that even though we'll end up with a smaller house and yard, we gain a finished basement and a backyard pool! Those were definite selling features for the kids.
It really all happened so fast - one minute we were discussing plans for the future, the next we were putting an offer on a house. It just so happened that a near-perfect-for-us house had just been listed, and we had to take advantage quickly. We knew we didn't want to leave our neighborhood, where the kids have lots of friends within walking distance, and very few houses come up for sale in this neighborhood. It all seemed meant to be. While I'm not looking forward to the actual move, and we will most definitely miss this yard, we're looking forward to the pool, to much smaller utility bills, to lower property tax, and to the freedom that comes with knowing you've made a wise, albeit difficult, decision. All the purging and decluttering is an added bonus. It feels really, really good to get rid of so much extra stuff that we were only keeping because we had so much extra space. I am a firm believer that stuff literally and figuratively weighs a person down.
On another note, I've reached the milestone of "late thirties." I can no longer say I'm in my mid-thirties. Birthdays always bring mixed feelings, because I always feel that the actual number is in no way representative of how old I feel (maybe 22), but I'm also incredibly thankful for each birthday, that I am blessed to turn older. And, just for me perhaps, the world did not end before I could turn 37. It was a great day of relaxation, family, gifts, dinner and a movie with friends. Stefan surprised me with a hotel reservation in Green Bay, Wisconsin at the end of September. Assuming that there is a football season this fall (they're on strike currently), we will be spending 3 nights in Green Bay, and I will get to experience Lambeau Field in person. I am ridiculously excited about this and just keeping my fingers crossed that the strike ends in time.
It's a busy week ahead as we get ready to celebrate our little/big girl turning 7! Hard to believe she is so grown up already. She is a spark of fun in our family - she keeps us laughing and can sneak up on anyone and give them a big scare. She is very creative - never stops coloring and drawing and dancing. We sure love our Taya!
And now I need to get the kids to bed, so I can watch a movie with a friend. Ciao!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Post without a Title
One thing I'm really religious about is making sure my family has their yearly check-ups at the doctor. It was an easy habit to start with the kids, as there were so many required appointments after they were born. Before they were born, too, for that matter. Once we stopped being prompted to come in for regular vaccines and to check growth, I made a point of making appointments for them close to their birthdays. We are fortunate that we don't have to go to the doctor very often between their yearly visits, and also fortunate that we have such a good doctor. I hope that I am instilling in them a sense of responsibility for their own, health. I think it's an important lesson to learn as you get older - you are in charge of your body and you shouldn't wait for or expect someone else to do it for you. (sidenote: I am not including my hubby when I mention my kids - he is responsible for his own appointments and rather than nagging, I try to keep to occasional gentle reminders. He seems to do just fine without my interference, thankfully!)
So at my latest physical I had all the usuals, including bloodwork and my once-a-decade tetanus shot. (who knew?) I barely felt the needle piercing my skin, but my arm hurt like crazy for the rest of the week. Glad that's done with. Just two days later, I received a call from the doctor's office, asking me to come in for some results. They always say they'll call if there's anything unusual, but they never call, because there's never anything unusual! The lady on the phone assured me that it was nothing urgent, and in spite of my badgering her to tell me what it was about, she remained cryptic, as they are supposed to. She said I could wait a few days to come in...but still. I admit I was feeling kind of nervous, wondering what sort of strange conditions they may have unearthed in my blood that were presenting me no symptoms or concerns, that wasn't urgent, but still required follow-up. Me and my over-active imagination.
As I soon discovered, there was indeed nothing to worry about. Two issues had been flagged in my bloodwork, however. One, my good cholesterol was a little on the low side. The solution? Get exercising! I confess that I've been really slacking with my running this winter, so this is excellent incentive to lace up my runners and hit the road.
The second issue is that I have low levels of vitamin B12. I've been reading a lof about B12 lately and wondered if I should be taking a supplement. Turns out, I should be. There are very few good food sources of this vitamin (sorry, but I'm not about to start eating liver, which is incidentally the food with the highest source of B12 and also my most hated food. Ever.) You can also get B12 from other red meats, but I'm trying to cut that out of my diet, not eat more of it. So, a supplement it is. B12 deficiency gets more serious as we get older and can take a long time to become a serious problem, I understand, so it's important to have healthy levels of this vitamin as you get older. One early symptom can be tiredness and lack of energy. Hmmmm. Most people I know struggle with those! I'd assumed a lack of sleep and 3 children will do that to a person. And they will. I can get more sleep, but not much I can do about the kids - I'm keeping all 3! Apparently the vitamins work pretty much immediately, so the doctor said I should notice a boost in energy. I went for a run that evening, my first run in a long while, and I kid you not, I felt like I was flying! Self-fulfilling prophecy maybe? Possibly, but I'll take it!
So, I'm feeling fine today. I wrote this blog sitting on a comfy high-backed chair in the lobby of the Royal York Hotel in downtown Toronto, and on the train on the way back home, after a fun lunch date with my fabulous hubby. We ate at the brand new earls downtown where I bumped into a girl I used to waitress with at earls in Winnipeg - she now manages this location. I seriously bump into people everywhere! With this connection, I managed to score a spot on her "insiders list" for my hubby when he needs a last minute lunch reservation! Hope he appreciates it!
I've got Bon Jovi cranked on my ipod (what else), I'm sipping my tea, and I'm going to sit back and enjoy the train ride home.
So at my latest physical I had all the usuals, including bloodwork and my once-a-decade tetanus shot. (who knew?) I barely felt the needle piercing my skin, but my arm hurt like crazy for the rest of the week. Glad that's done with. Just two days later, I received a call from the doctor's office, asking me to come in for some results. They always say they'll call if there's anything unusual, but they never call, because there's never anything unusual! The lady on the phone assured me that it was nothing urgent, and in spite of my badgering her to tell me what it was about, she remained cryptic, as they are supposed to. She said I could wait a few days to come in...but still. I admit I was feeling kind of nervous, wondering what sort of strange conditions they may have unearthed in my blood that were presenting me no symptoms or concerns, that wasn't urgent, but still required follow-up. Me and my over-active imagination.
As I soon discovered, there was indeed nothing to worry about. Two issues had been flagged in my bloodwork, however. One, my good cholesterol was a little on the low side. The solution? Get exercising! I confess that I've been really slacking with my running this winter, so this is excellent incentive to lace up my runners and hit the road.
The second issue is that I have low levels of vitamin B12. I've been reading a lof about B12 lately and wondered if I should be taking a supplement. Turns out, I should be. There are very few good food sources of this vitamin (sorry, but I'm not about to start eating liver, which is incidentally the food with the highest source of B12 and also my most hated food. Ever.) You can also get B12 from other red meats, but I'm trying to cut that out of my diet, not eat more of it. So, a supplement it is. B12 deficiency gets more serious as we get older and can take a long time to become a serious problem, I understand, so it's important to have healthy levels of this vitamin as you get older. One early symptom can be tiredness and lack of energy. Hmmmm. Most people I know struggle with those! I'd assumed a lack of sleep and 3 children will do that to a person. And they will. I can get more sleep, but not much I can do about the kids - I'm keeping all 3! Apparently the vitamins work pretty much immediately, so the doctor said I should notice a boost in energy. I went for a run that evening, my first run in a long while, and I kid you not, I felt like I was flying! Self-fulfilling prophecy maybe? Possibly, but I'll take it!
So, I'm feeling fine today. I wrote this blog sitting on a comfy high-backed chair in the lobby of the Royal York Hotel in downtown Toronto, and on the train on the way back home, after a fun lunch date with my fabulous hubby. We ate at the brand new earls downtown where I bumped into a girl I used to waitress with at earls in Winnipeg - she now manages this location. I seriously bump into people everywhere! With this connection, I managed to score a spot on her "insiders list" for my hubby when he needs a last minute lunch reservation! Hope he appreciates it!
I've got Bon Jovi cranked on my ipod (what else), I'm sipping my tea, and I'm going to sit back and enjoy the train ride home.
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Beauty of Advertising...
I was driving through town with my kids yesterday, when, about 5 minutes from home, my 9 year old points at a Holiday Inn we were passing and said he wanted to stay the night there sometime. Odd, I thought - are my kids getting that desperate for a vacation that the local Holiday Inn looks appealing? I asked him why he wanted to stay there and he said it was because it advertised a pool on the sign. And I, ever the burster of bubbles, mentioned that the pool was probably really small, and not very nice, and therefore not a good place to go. But maybe they have a waterpark, Mom? Not likely, since it doesn't say anything about it on the sign. But he still wasn't totally convinced, thinking that the pool must be nice at a HOLIDAY Inn.
Which got me to thinking, once again, about just how misleading advertising can be, and how easy it is to be fooled by titles and descriptions. Now, I am not accusing the Holiday Inn of being misleading, because they're not. However, it's easy to see how a 9 year old boy, feeling like he could use a little holiday, could think what he thought when he read what he read. Shouldn't a Holiday Inn, by definition, have a fun pool? I actually did go to their website, and while there is absolutely nothing wrong with their pool, it looks as average as just about every other hotel pool I've seen. I can think of better places to take a holiday...
This also got me thinking of how food advertising most definitely IS misleading at worst, and requires very diligent label-reading at best. Maybe you heard about the lady in California recently who was suing Nutella over their not-so-healthy chocolate spread? You've probably heard of buyer-beware, a very applicable term in this situation. There's the school of thought which basically says that if a product has to tell you how healthy it is, it probably isn't. Apples and broccoli don't come with labels, after all.
The following is a list of some of the more outrageous food advertising that I've seen or heard recently:
Kraft Dinner - Enriched with BOLD (is bold supposed to be healthy? how is a food enriched with bold anyway?)
Cheez Whiz - Adds Personality (since when does our food need personality? don't people have personality? and is cheez whiz really food?)
Coke - Pour Some Happiness/ Brings moms and families together (how does one pour happiness? can a family not be brought together by pouring something that doesn't have so many teaspoons of sugar, such as water?)
Ranch Dressing - No artificial flavors (so you're telling me that xanthan gum, polysorbate 60 and silicon dioxide, among others, are what, natural?)
Pop Tarts - Life should be sprinkled with happiness, frosted with possibilities and filled with fun....so you can feel good about sharing the fun of pop tarts with your kids (really...so that's the key to happiness!)
Froot Loops - fortified with 11 essential vitamins and minerals, low in fat, now provides fiber. (I'll keep this is mind the next time I'm craving something healthy)
Honey Nut Cheerios - according to the ads on TV, they just might prevent a heart attack! (good to know, isn't it?)
And, last but not least, make sure to get your money's worth at McDonalds! After all, their chicken nuggets are a symbol of JOY (the O is a nugget). (Don't get me started on this one!)
This is not an exhaustive list by any stretch of the imagination, but isn't it easy to see how people might be fooled into thinking something is either healthy to eat or will bring them some sort of happiness if they eat it? Especially if that person is young or uneducated. Or maybe gullible. I am definitely not immune to these types of advertising, although I tend to make much more informed choices these days. (True story - as of about 12 years ago, I'd never had a filet of fish at McDonalds. It just never appealed to me. Then one day, while watching TV, an ad came on showing someone eating one, and I immediately was hungry for one and went out THAT HOUR and bought myself one.) This is actually embarrassing to admit, as I am usually not that easily influenced. But I just wanted you to know how easy it is to be sucked in to the beauty of advertising.
Can you think of any food advertising that is particularly misleading that I haven't mentioned?
Which got me to thinking, once again, about just how misleading advertising can be, and how easy it is to be fooled by titles and descriptions. Now, I am not accusing the Holiday Inn of being misleading, because they're not. However, it's easy to see how a 9 year old boy, feeling like he could use a little holiday, could think what he thought when he read what he read. Shouldn't a Holiday Inn, by definition, have a fun pool? I actually did go to their website, and while there is absolutely nothing wrong with their pool, it looks as average as just about every other hotel pool I've seen. I can think of better places to take a holiday...
This also got me thinking of how food advertising most definitely IS misleading at worst, and requires very diligent label-reading at best. Maybe you heard about the lady in California recently who was suing Nutella over their not-so-healthy chocolate spread? You've probably heard of buyer-beware, a very applicable term in this situation. There's the school of thought which basically says that if a product has to tell you how healthy it is, it probably isn't. Apples and broccoli don't come with labels, after all.
The following is a list of some of the more outrageous food advertising that I've seen or heard recently:
Kraft Dinner - Enriched with BOLD (is bold supposed to be healthy? how is a food enriched with bold anyway?)
Cheez Whiz - Adds Personality (since when does our food need personality? don't people have personality? and is cheez whiz really food?)
Coke - Pour Some Happiness/ Brings moms and families together (how does one pour happiness? can a family not be brought together by pouring something that doesn't have so many teaspoons of sugar, such as water?)
Ranch Dressing - No artificial flavors (so you're telling me that xanthan gum, polysorbate 60 and silicon dioxide, among others, are what, natural?)
Pop Tarts - Life should be sprinkled with happiness, frosted with possibilities and filled with fun....so you can feel good about sharing the fun of pop tarts with your kids (really...so that's the key to happiness!)
Froot Loops - fortified with 11 essential vitamins and minerals, low in fat, now provides fiber. (I'll keep this is mind the next time I'm craving something healthy)
Honey Nut Cheerios - according to the ads on TV, they just might prevent a heart attack! (good to know, isn't it?)
And, last but not least, make sure to get your money's worth at McDonalds! After all, their chicken nuggets are a symbol of JOY (the O is a nugget). (Don't get me started on this one!)
This is not an exhaustive list by any stretch of the imagination, but isn't it easy to see how people might be fooled into thinking something is either healthy to eat or will bring them some sort of happiness if they eat it? Especially if that person is young or uneducated. Or maybe gullible. I am definitely not immune to these types of advertising, although I tend to make much more informed choices these days. (True story - as of about 12 years ago, I'd never had a filet of fish at McDonalds. It just never appealed to me. Then one day, while watching TV, an ad came on showing someone eating one, and I immediately was hungry for one and went out THAT HOUR and bought myself one.) This is actually embarrassing to admit, as I am usually not that easily influenced. But I just wanted you to know how easy it is to be sucked in to the beauty of advertising.
Can you think of any food advertising that is particularly misleading that I haven't mentioned?
Monday, March 28, 2011
I Don't Know!
I've been learning lately how very little I actually know. It seems to me that my kids are helping me learn this at an almost-daily pace. Here they are, looking at me to answer their (many, unceasing) questions, and half the time I don't even know the answer! It was so much easier when I kind of just "knew", but when it comes time to explain these things in simple terms, I am so often at a loss. For example, I really don't know why the frogs in the pond died. That didn't stop us from having an impromptu funeral service for them, complete with gravestones and singing, but I don't know why they died, and the kids want to know. (I actually want to know too). Was it from natural causes, or perhaps the winter was too cold? Aren't they designed to survive the winter? Or did the heat lamp we used to create a hole in the ice for our fish create some sort of unnatural event for the frogs which caused them to....well....croak? Maybe we'll never know.
I also don't know what caused the Black Plague way back in medieval times, although my 9 year old has learned that it was caused by fleas, which then spread to people. Truly horrible. But if you'd asked me anything about the Plague previously, I'd have had no idea. Maybe I don't need to know about this for my day-to-day life, but shouldn't I have learned this at some point? Did I miss that day of school?
It's true that I also don't know if the kids can have Alphabits for breakfast (they asked tonight, preemptively, I suppose), what's for supper tomorrow, or when am I going to bake cinnamon buns again? I know I'm supposed to be the grown-up here and have an answer to all these questions, but I'm sorry that I just don't.
Another thing I don't know (but was asked about at suppertime) is why the kids' school spent so much time and effort fundraising for the people of Haiti after the earthquake, and why no one is talking about Japan anymore at school (I assume this is not just happening at our school). Have we been so inundated with disaster coverage that we now block it out? Have we given all we want to give? Do we not care anymore? Do we think someone else is doing it? Have we decided that perhaps Japan has enough of its own resources, whereas Haiti did not? What happens when another disaster strikes? We can't have already forgotten about the floods in Australia and the earthquake in New Zealand, but each new disaster seems to cause us to forget about the previous ones. Is this the answer to the question?
My list-of-things-I-don't-know is growing every day, and I suppose I should be thanking my kids for giving me more opportunities to learn, instead of worrying about how very little I really do know!
I also don't know what caused the Black Plague way back in medieval times, although my 9 year old has learned that it was caused by fleas, which then spread to people. Truly horrible. But if you'd asked me anything about the Plague previously, I'd have had no idea. Maybe I don't need to know about this for my day-to-day life, but shouldn't I have learned this at some point? Did I miss that day of school?
It's true that I also don't know if the kids can have Alphabits for breakfast (they asked tonight, preemptively, I suppose), what's for supper tomorrow, or when am I going to bake cinnamon buns again? I know I'm supposed to be the grown-up here and have an answer to all these questions, but I'm sorry that I just don't.
Another thing I don't know (but was asked about at suppertime) is why the kids' school spent so much time and effort fundraising for the people of Haiti after the earthquake, and why no one is talking about Japan anymore at school (I assume this is not just happening at our school). Have we been so inundated with disaster coverage that we now block it out? Have we given all we want to give? Do we not care anymore? Do we think someone else is doing it? Have we decided that perhaps Japan has enough of its own resources, whereas Haiti did not? What happens when another disaster strikes? We can't have already forgotten about the floods in Australia and the earthquake in New Zealand, but each new disaster seems to cause us to forget about the previous ones. Is this the answer to the question?
My list-of-things-I-don't-know is growing every day, and I suppose I should be thanking my kids for giving me more opportunities to learn, instead of worrying about how very little I really do know!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Why I Love Football
I'm sitting in my office, drinking coffee, and scowling out the window at a blustery January day. The only problem is, it's not January! It's March!! Someone (ahem, Mother Nature) didn't get the memo about March arriving and March break being just around the corner. Last year we had bathing suit/picnic weather for March break - I don't think we'll be so lucky this year. I don't like to be a complainer, especially when there's nothing I can do about the situation, so please consider the above sentences to be a mere reporting-of-the-facts.
I've been thinking about football lately. Of course, you all know that the Green Bay Packers won the Superbowl last month, a source of much happiness at our house. However, many people (and to clarify, I mean girls) just don't understand what you might call my "football obsession." I prefer to call it a passion, but that's neither here nor there. I decided it was time to explain, hence the above title. I may not sway you to becoming a fellow football fanatic, but perhaps you'll begin to understand...
Confession number one: I'm a drama queen. Maybe not in the true sense of the expression ("a person given to often excessively emotional performances or reactions", which conjures up a tantrum-throwing schoolgirl who doesn't get her way, although I'm sure there are those who might disagree). What I mean is that I love drama. I need excitement and action and suspense. (And since I've been consulting Webster, drama is defined as "a state, situation, or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces"). Doesn't the definition of drama seem to be written for a sports context?
I thoroughly enjoy watching sports. I'll watch just about anything, at least once in a while, with the exception of curling. I'm sorry, I just can't do it. Every sport has an element of drama (I'm sure even curling does, but I just don't get it) which is why there are entire networks on TV devoted to sports coverage.
But when it comes right down to it, the only sport with enough drama and suspense to hold and keep my attention for an entire game and season, is football. (I do need to differentiate here between Canadian and American football - while I will watch the CFL, it's the NFL that is the recipient of my devotion). Football is truly a game of seconds and inches. An entire game of football can be determined by just a few seconds, or by just a few inches. A team who is losing may need those few precious seconds to either even the score or pull into the lead for the win. Or the game may be decided by inches - a team may come up short of a touchdown by mere inches, or a player may catch a touchdown pass with mere inches to spare, toes hovering on the sideline. I have spent many a Sunday afternoon or Monday evening literally on the edge of my seat, as the outcome of a game is decided by seconds and inches. Heart pounding, palms sweating, eyes glued to the TV, I am riveted, and have been known to either collapse in a heap on the couch or to jump jubilantly to my feet with whoops of joy (just ask my kids).
When you consider (and you really should) that the NFL season only lasts 5 months (including one month of playoffs) and that the teams only play once each week, you will (hopefully) understand the importance of each and every game. The drama and suspense build each week and culminate in true excitement as each game unfolds. There's none of this "8 games back" business that you might see in hockey as a team fights for its playoff life - that's half a season in football, my friends!
Emotions run the gamut - from a high as the quarterback executes a perfect pass - a bullet - to his receiver who runs the ball into the endzone for a touchdown, to a low as the quarterback is sacked, fumbles the ball and the opposing team recovers it for a touchdown. Are you starting to understand just how much drama is contained in one game of football?
I always feel a void when the season ends each year, especially if my team had a less-than-successful season. The wait until preseason begins feels much too long, but it is one thing to look forward to as summer comes to an end. However, this year was different - the end of the season brought with it much joy and celebration as our team (the Green Bay Packers) became Superbowl Champions, a feat they hadn't accomplished in 14 years. As the proud owner of a large, bright orange foam cheesehead, and the displayer of a pair of fuzzy green and yellow dice in my van (a symbol of recognition for the neighbors), I was one pleased and proud Packers fan this year. Winning or losing are not the criteria for how loyal I am to my team, but a Superbowl win just makes everything that much more sweet.
My love of football does not mean I understand every aspect of the game (although I'd like to). I'm often slow to understand why a flag was thrown for a penalty, or how a certain play was executed. But this doesn't take away from the beauty of the game: the bullet passes, the impossible catches by one hand or by the fingertips, the agility of the running back as he dodges yet another defender, the sprint from one end of the field to the other as a kick-off is returned for a touchdown, the games played in any kind of weather and watched by die-hard fans,
or the game-changing play made by a surprisingly agile 350 pound player. My love of football has nothing to do with men in tights - one could just as easily go to the ballet for that - but rather a love of the drama and beauty of the game.
This drama queen can hardly wait for the season to begin!
I've been thinking about football lately. Of course, you all know that the Green Bay Packers won the Superbowl last month, a source of much happiness at our house. However, many people (and to clarify, I mean girls) just don't understand what you might call my "football obsession." I prefer to call it a passion, but that's neither here nor there. I decided it was time to explain, hence the above title. I may not sway you to becoming a fellow football fanatic, but perhaps you'll begin to understand...
Confession number one: I'm a drama queen. Maybe not in the true sense of the expression ("a person given to often excessively emotional performances or reactions", which conjures up a tantrum-throwing schoolgirl who doesn't get her way, although I'm sure there are those who might disagree). What I mean is that I love drama. I need excitement and action and suspense. (And since I've been consulting Webster, drama is defined as "a state, situation, or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces"). Doesn't the definition of drama seem to be written for a sports context?
I thoroughly enjoy watching sports. I'll watch just about anything, at least once in a while, with the exception of curling. I'm sorry, I just can't do it. Every sport has an element of drama (I'm sure even curling does, but I just don't get it) which is why there are entire networks on TV devoted to sports coverage.
But when it comes right down to it, the only sport with enough drama and suspense to hold and keep my attention for an entire game and season, is football. (I do need to differentiate here between Canadian and American football - while I will watch the CFL, it's the NFL that is the recipient of my devotion). Football is truly a game of seconds and inches. An entire game of football can be determined by just a few seconds, or by just a few inches. A team who is losing may need those few precious seconds to either even the score or pull into the lead for the win. Or the game may be decided by inches - a team may come up short of a touchdown by mere inches, or a player may catch a touchdown pass with mere inches to spare, toes hovering on the sideline. I have spent many a Sunday afternoon or Monday evening literally on the edge of my seat, as the outcome of a game is decided by seconds and inches. Heart pounding, palms sweating, eyes glued to the TV, I am riveted, and have been known to either collapse in a heap on the couch or to jump jubilantly to my feet with whoops of joy (just ask my kids).
When you consider (and you really should) that the NFL season only lasts 5 months (including one month of playoffs) and that the teams only play once each week, you will (hopefully) understand the importance of each and every game. The drama and suspense build each week and culminate in true excitement as each game unfolds. There's none of this "8 games back" business that you might see in hockey as a team fights for its playoff life - that's half a season in football, my friends!
Emotions run the gamut - from a high as the quarterback executes a perfect pass - a bullet - to his receiver who runs the ball into the endzone for a touchdown, to a low as the quarterback is sacked, fumbles the ball and the opposing team recovers it for a touchdown. Are you starting to understand just how much drama is contained in one game of football?
I always feel a void when the season ends each year, especially if my team had a less-than-successful season. The wait until preseason begins feels much too long, but it is one thing to look forward to as summer comes to an end. However, this year was different - the end of the season brought with it much joy and celebration as our team (the Green Bay Packers) became Superbowl Champions, a feat they hadn't accomplished in 14 years. As the proud owner of a large, bright orange foam cheesehead, and the displayer of a pair of fuzzy green and yellow dice in my van (a symbol of recognition for the neighbors), I was one pleased and proud Packers fan this year. Winning or losing are not the criteria for how loyal I am to my team, but a Superbowl win just makes everything that much more sweet.
My love of football does not mean I understand every aspect of the game (although I'd like to). I'm often slow to understand why a flag was thrown for a penalty, or how a certain play was executed. But this doesn't take away from the beauty of the game: the bullet passes, the impossible catches by one hand or by the fingertips, the agility of the running back as he dodges yet another defender, the sprint from one end of the field to the other as a kick-off is returned for a touchdown, the games played in any kind of weather and watched by die-hard fans,
or the game-changing play made by a surprisingly agile 350 pound player. My love of football has nothing to do with men in tights - one could just as easily go to the ballet for that - but rather a love of the drama and beauty of the game.
This drama queen can hardly wait for the season to begin!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Fabulous February!
In the midst of what feels like a long, cold winter, when the kids have occasional minor illnesses, it still seems to get dark a little too early, and summer still feels so very far away, it's nice to have a little something to look forward to. January can typically be a depressing month, especially with the Christmas excitement over. However, in our house, January was actually very exciting this year. Why, you ask?? Well, NFL playoffs, of course! Playoffs are always something we eagerly anticipate, but this year was definitely an exception, as our favorite team (the Green Bay Packers, for those of you not in the know) were slowly but surely marching towards the Superbowl. They seemed like unlikely heroes, having left themselves several must-win games at the end of the season. But each Sunday, we watched in nervous anticipation as they beat yet another "better" team, in yet another away game.
For those of you who don't know, I have loved football since highschool, and picked the Packers as my team probably in about grade 11. What can I say, I liked the color green! Fast forward to Sunday, February 6, 2011, and my/our team is actually in the Superbowl for the first time in about 13 years! It's hard to describe the joy we felt when they actually won the coveted trophy. I know it's "just football", but their win kept me smiling for days! I'm actually still smiling about it!
But there's more...
For Christmas this year I received, much to my surprise and delight, tickets to see Bon Jovi in concert. Again, for those of you who don't know, Bon Jovi has been my favorite band since highschool. They've been making music for about 27 years (!!!) and I'm still loving it! The concert was February 15, and Stefan and I made a date out of it. We got a babysitter, and I took the train downtown to meet him for dinner before the concert. I don't have a lot of concert experience to compare this one to, but suffice it to say that it was AMAZING! They put on such a great show and I was reminded just how many big hits they've had over the years. I would not hesitate to go see them live again. The icing on the cake was the opening song, where Jon sang from a platform just in front of our seats. Needless to say, I've had a pretty big smile on my face ever since.
Now, if I could just get spring to show up...
For those of you who don't know, I have loved football since highschool, and picked the Packers as my team probably in about grade 11. What can I say, I liked the color green! Fast forward to Sunday, February 6, 2011, and my/our team is actually in the Superbowl for the first time in about 13 years! It's hard to describe the joy we felt when they actually won the coveted trophy. I know it's "just football", but their win kept me smiling for days! I'm actually still smiling about it!
But there's more...
For Christmas this year I received, much to my surprise and delight, tickets to see Bon Jovi in concert. Again, for those of you who don't know, Bon Jovi has been my favorite band since highschool. They've been making music for about 27 years (!!!) and I'm still loving it! The concert was February 15, and Stefan and I made a date out of it. We got a babysitter, and I took the train downtown to meet him for dinner before the concert. I don't have a lot of concert experience to compare this one to, but suffice it to say that it was AMAZING! They put on such a great show and I was reminded just how many big hits they've had over the years. I would not hesitate to go see them live again. The icing on the cake was the opening song, where Jon sang from a platform just in front of our seats. Needless to say, I've had a pretty big smile on my face ever since.
Now, if I could just get spring to show up...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
AFTER PHOTOS!!
Here, finally, are the AFTER photos of our renovation. I am sorry for the lack of order with these photos. Somehow, I have lost my ability to rearrange uploaded photos as I want them. I have searched all over, and cannot figure out how to do this like I used to. Sadly, it is probably something ridiculously simple, but in the meantime - here are the photos! The one of the office shows the wall before it was painted, but you get the idea. Our wall color of choice for the mudroom was called Celestial Blue. Sounds peaceful and calming, doesn't it? The last 3 photos show the completed lockers. We ordered them online from the States, and after a LOT of researching, and almost settling on something not-quite-right, we found these. The kids got to choose the color they wanted, and I think they look pretty good together. I have my own locker, for my purse, gloves, scarves, etc. These lockers are fantastic - especially in the winter when everyone has so much more gear! We are really loving all the extra space and organization. Money well spent!
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