Where are my pictures????

All my blog pictures have vanished!!! Well, actually not vanished, I inadvertently erased them ... technology is great, but when 'stuff' gets erased with a simple press of a button - yikes!!!

Sorry folks ...




So, better start again. This picture was from last week, my grandson's soccer practice. Son Brian is coaching Josh's team - 5 and 6 year olds.

Wasn't it just yesterday that my husband coached Brian's team when he was 6 years of age, and I sat on the sidelines shouting encouragement?

Ain't it grand to see history repeating itself?

Poor Thailand.

I ache for it's people

The innocent ones who just want to earn a living.

The ones we've met on visits there

Smiling, friendly, ever-helpful.

They are a Buddhist people

Buddhists believe in non-violence

So, why is there fighting in Bangkok?

Can democracy only come through violence?

Has no-one read Gandhi?



http://www.abc.net.au/news/video/2010/05/18/2902603.htm

Isn't it wonderful when you come across something someone has written that reflects exactly how you feel - and they were able to choose just the right words to express it?

This spring I have dug up and created a large new garden in the front of our house, and I cannot tell you how much joy and excitement I have had planning it, scouring various gardening books deciding on just the right perennials and flowering shrubs to plant there.

However, this past week I have spent many hours each day sitting at my elderly mother's bedside in the hospital, and as she dozed I lifted my spirits away from the smells and sounds of hospital life by browsing a gardening book by a particular favourite of mine. Steve Whysall is a gardener and journalist who lives in British Columbia, and he writes various newspaper gardening columns and gardening books.

In his book "100 Best Plants for the Ontario Garden" he wrote:

"If gardening is about anything, it is about knowing and valuing the inherent power of nature to overcome winter and bounce back to life."

It's almost worth living through 4 months of snow each year to experience the overwhelming happiness I feel when I see the 90 daffodils I planted last fall with the grand kids, popping their heads up through the still cold soil. Yea, they survived! Or, watching the blossom on our new pear tree (that we thought had died) swelling by the day.

Thank you Steve Whysall for taking me away from a sad reality of my life, even for just a little while.

Such is the power of a few well-chosen words.

I watched an utterly amazing documentary this evening borrowed from the local library. It is called "The English Surgeon" which seems like a rather humble title, in my opinion, for an extremely remarkable man.

Dr. Henry Marsh is a renown neurosurgeon at one of London's top hospitals, yet since 1992 he has spent much of his free time helping, operating, and trying to improve medical conditions in the Ukraine. The film follows him on one of his trips to a Ukrainian hospital which we see is full of desperate patients and makeshift equipment. In his suitcase is 'old' equipment which has been discarded by his British hospital, yet is received with joy by his Ukrainian counterpart. Drill bits which are used once in London then discarded, are made to be used for 10 years in the Ukrainian hospital.

Indeed this film is not for the squeamish. In one part it shows Dr. Marsh operating on a patients' brain using only a local anesthetic (I had to look away during parts of that) the patient is alert and talking throughout, and the doctors use a handyman's Bosch cordless drill to gain access into the brain. The operation was a success despite the drill running rather low on power in the middle!

This is an intimate portrait of a true humanitarian.

I received this last week, and to my mind it speaks of the ultimate truth. Here are just a few of the frames.

Hope it speaks to you too ...

Rainy Days ...

It’s damp and rainy today. A day which many people say is best spent in bed. But rainy days don’t affect me like that. I like them! I especially enjoy the way they put no demands on me. On days like this I am free to choose my own mood.

When the weather is warm and sunny people tend to walk around with a spring in their step and a smile on their face, and expect the world to feel the same, they shout out at strangers, “Isn’t it a wonderful day?” I wonder what would happened if I replied, “No, actually, I don’t think it is!”

Being worried, distressed or depressed on a sunny day feels three times as bad. It’s like being alone at Christmas. Even if it’s your choice, your preferred state, it feels wrong, out of sync with the world.

Likewise with a bright fresh day – you are not supposed to feel down or listless. There are windows to be washed, weeds to be weeded, grass to be cut. Everyone and their dog is outside enjoying this ‘beautiful’ day. Except you … because you don’t have the energy or ambition to get off the couch, let alone lift a rake. On days like that it feels like a giant magnifying glass is being held up to your mood, and it is found wanting.

No, give me a rainy day. All the energizer bunnies are then safely inside their own little boxes, where I can’t see them, and probably feeling sorry for themselves because their boisterous activities are being curtailed by the weather. Good job they don’t live in rainy old England – if you stayed inside there when it rains you’d never see the light of day!

An old friend, who happens to be an Anglican minister, once told me that his parishioners were always telling him that he should smile more often. It’s true that his face, at rest, has a rather curmudgeon look to it, and he has a shaggy grizzly beard which hides many of his features. However, to me, it is the kind of face that a person can feel comfortable with – rather like an old comfy chair. He said he doesn’t trust people who smile all the time and I think I firmly agree with him!

The Importance of Walking ...

A good friend emailed me this because she knows of my new walking regime (I just returned from my 5km walk - I'm so proud of myself!) It's very funny and I simply had to share it here ... enjoy!


My grandpa started walking
five miles a day when he was 60.
Now he's 97 years old
and we don't know where the hell he is.

I like long walks,
especially when they are taken
by people who annoy me.

The only reason I would take up walking
is so that I could hear heavy breathing again.

I have to walk early in the morning,
before my brain figures out what I'm doing... (This is my favourite!)

I joined a health club last year,
spent about 400 bucks.
Haven't lost a pound.
Apparently you have to go there.

The advantage of exercising every day
is so when you die, they'll say,
'Well, she looks good doesn't she.'

If you are going to try cross-country skiing,
start with a small country.

We all get heavier as we get older,
because there's a lot more information in our heads.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

AND

Every time I start thinking too much
about how I look,
I just find a Happy Hour
and by the time I leave,
I look just fine.


Have a great day :-)

If your shins scream at you
to stop.
Should you submit?


If your feet yell at you
"Enough!"
Should you obey?


If your hips whimper
and whinge.
Should you heed?


When starting a new exercise programme
should you listen to your body -

Or, your brain?

Spring Resolution ...

It's time to get serious about my fitness level - never mind losing weight, that I've given up on - but I MUST get fitter!!  The end of our long cold winter always finds many of us in less than fine shape ... at least, MY shape is less than fine!

So, I've started daily early morning walking with 2 of my neighbours (and our dogs.)  No round of applause yet though, I've only been twice so far, yesterday and today, but I'm quite serious about keeping it up, and am making my resolution as public as possible to shame myself into not quitting.  My walking partners take this part of their day VERY seriously, and rain, sleet or snow they are out there - so they are great role-models.  

Today we walked 5 km ... and I am shattered.  But, chatting and walking is so much easier than walking alone, I hardly noticed how far we'd gone - until we had to walk all the way back! My leg muscles sure are chatting to me right now!

But, that just tells me how dreadfully out of shape I am ... onwards and upwards!!!

"Gorgeous Grannies" are in business!

If anyone remembers me musing on this blog a number of weeks ago about whether to jump into the Stephen Lewis 'Grandmothers to Grandmothers' organization or not, you may be interested to know that I leapt!!!  As of last Friday, The Gorgeous Grannies & Friends of North Gower are in business!

So far we are a small group of five - but we are mighty.  Watching a 16 minute video of the hardships of the African Grandmothers who are raising their grandchildren after they have been orphaned by AIDS, really brought home some of the realities of the problems there.  It is the grandmothers of Africa who are the unsung heros of the AIDS epidemic there, and the G2G organization spends the money raised on projects at the grassroots level.  Projects that will directly help the elderly women who are struggling with their load.  In some countries 40-60% of children live in grandmother headed households.

The G2G organization began in Toronto just 4 years ago this month, as a result of the realization of the heavy load these women were struggling with.  Already there are over 240 granny groups right across Canada who are fundraising, advocating and raising awareness for their counterparts in sub-Saharan Africa.  I think that is pretty cool.

I'm so proud to be part of them ... and I'm so very proud of Sara, Penny, Lynne and Donna for standing beside me!

For more information: http://www.grandmotherscampaign.org/campaign.html

Drink up that wine!

Don't you just love all the studies that come flying at you almost daily?

If you took any of them seriously you'd be changing your diet, sleep habits, even marital status every five minutes!  Eat your broccoli, eat low-carb, eat low fat, no butter, no margarine, eat chocolate (but only a little - as if!!) take naps to increase your memory, don't take naps if you want a good night's sleep, married people live longer, single women live longer ... and so it all goes on.

The latests, in case you missed it, is:

     " ... alcohol intake tends to induce increased energy expenditure beyond energy contents of the consumed alcohol in women."  (Archives of Internal Medicine)

Hmmm, drinking wine causes women to lose weight - now, there's a winner!

Apparently, over 19,200 US women, aged 39 and over who had normal body weight, were asked to list their drinking habits and weight gain for an average of 13 years.  Apparently they all gained weight (surprise!) but those who abstained from alcoholic drinks gained the most.  They found that the amount of weight gained decreased as alcoholic consumption went up.

As an avid lover of wine, over 39, and overweight I wonder about this study.  I've also read that red wine can lower your risk of heart disease, whilst other studies say it may increase the risk for various cancers ... wow, now I am confused!!

However, (as much as I'd love to believe this one) did these researchers not take into consideration the fact that most women fudge the truth when it comes to their age, their weight, and their alcohol consumption - everything this study is based on!

I say, don't worry, just drink up and be happy!

Cheers!

Today's News:
"Muslims slaughtering Christians,
Christians slaughtering Muslims"

What's new?
When will the blood-shed stop?

"In Nigeria 500 people murdered "
because they live in a Christian village

Where is the sense?

In January the same
happened in a nearby Muslim village

Has the world gone mad?

Don't they all pray to the same God?

     How do extremely sensitive people keep themselves safe from the "slings and arrows" of the rest of the world?  When put into an unusually stressful situation they are often coached to use imagery to help them cope; to close their eyes and imagine a shield around them.  A clear shield which will allow their positive energy to flow out, but block any negative energy from entering.

     This morning I read that the inspirational skater, Joannie Rochette, was able to earn a bronze Olympic medal only days after suddenly losing her mother by mentally encasing herself into a block of ice.

      "It was as though I was trapped in a big block of ice, that's how I was able to confront the situation.  When I went on the ice, it's as though nothing could penetrate me."

     My bet is the team psychologist had a lot to do with this powerful imagery Joannie was able to use to protect herself.  Good for her for not caving in under her overwhelming loss, but instead arming herself with all that modern science has learned of the brain (thus far ... ) and pushing ahead with her dream.

     However, her mother's love definitely played a role ...

     "A great part of my mother's life was dedicated to me, and I will miss everything that she has done for me.  This medal belongs to both  of us."

     What a class act.

What kind of superior mind control does it take to skate a 4 minute programme at the Olympics and only make a few minor errors - when your 55 year old mother has just suddenly died from a heart attack????

I'm a healthy sceptic when it comes to judging many of these athletes from around the world (are they really amateurs?? drug-free?? etc. etc.) and all the money that is poured into 17 days of hoop-la could be used to wipe out AIDS from Africa!!

BUT, I stayed up until 11:30pm last night to watch Joannie Rochette show us that we can take control of our minds.  We can put aside the most horrendous event and focus on the task at hand.  Her mother had been in Vancouver to watch her skate, and skate she did.

As one who has wrestled all my life to manage my thoughts and emotions ... I'm in awe.

Eye of my Heart

Long ago, in my past life, I taught primary age children, and one of my favourite days of the year was 'Grandparents Day'.  It wasn't a school-wide thing, just something I enjoyed doing with my own class, and the children thoroughly enjoyed having their Granny, or Grandpa, or Nonna in to see what we do all day.(They were allowed to bring a grandparent-for-the-day if theirs lived too far away, so everyone always had a 'special some-one' there just for them.)

I wasn't a grandparent myself then, and for me the best part of the day was watching the total unabashed love gushing from the eyes of each grandparent as they avidly watched their special little person.  These kids could do NOTHING wrong in the grandparents eyes!  Maybe this seems rather naive of me, and it probably is, but I was amazed by the consistency of this over-the-top affection each of them showed.  They wore their crooked pipe cleaner corsages with pride, declared the burnt cookies "Delicious", and patiently listened to the children's hesitant new reading skills, and enthusiastically sang songs.

I couldn't help but contrast this with special days when the parents were invited in for the day.  They generally spent more time watching me than the children.  Anxious parents wondering if I was favouring one child over another, was I strict enough, did I laugh enough, did I know what I was doing, etc. etc. etc.

Now that I am a grandparent, of course the whole thing makes sense.  (I probably could have figured it all out then if I had taken the time ... but life was crazily busy in those days!)  Which brings me to a book I've just finished called "Eye of my Heart", in which '27 writers reveal the hidden pleasures and perils of being a grandmother'.  I borrowed this book from the library as I thought it might be more of the sentimental cliche stuff often written about grand parenting, and didn't want to waste my money on it.  But it isn't at all!  The stories are brutally honest, and startlingly realistic ... they give the 'real experience' of being a grandparent.  They are tales that are heartbreaking, hilarious, touching and transformative.

A common theme is how very difficult it is to love someone - your grandchild - so much, and yet have so little control over how much you see that person, or what their life is like.  One clash with 'the parents' and the child is banished from your life.  Or, 'the parents' move to another town, city, country or continent and your ties to your grandchild dwindle to phone calls, skype calls and yearly visits.  Two stories were particularly heartbreaking, and obviously still raw enough that the writers used pseudonyms.  But, mostly they were about the sensitive line a grandmother has to walk between wanting to help and interfering ... and how so often thorny relationships with their adult children keep them from fully expressing this very particular form of middle-age ardour.

However, underneath all the granny experiences (and, it does seem to be just grannies who feel these things - grandpas appear not to notice!) is the undisputed love underlying all these other emotions.

As I have found in my own experience, when a new baby enters a family, everyone has to accommodate.  I have to remember that I am the grandmother not the mother.  I must hold my tongue when I don't agree with specific child-raising practices.  In return my son and daughter-in-law turn a blind eye when I feed the children an extra piece of cake, or allow them to watch an extra video, or teach them folk songs about drunken sailors!  It's hard work to make this new relationship mutually enjoyable ... but, it is oh so very much worth it!

As Mary Pipher says in the book:
" Being a nonna has given me joy and fresh eyes.  My grandchildren are my antidepressants.  When I am with them, I laugh and I look.  We inhabit moments together.  When we see a hummingbird or pick raspberries, I am as happy as they are.  Our mutual affection has taught me about pure and nearly perfect love."

Oh yes, all the work is so very much worth it!!!

We Are More ...

We Are More
by Shane Koyczan


"Define Canada
You might say the home of the Rocket
Or The Great One
Who inspired little No. 9s and little No. 99s
But we're more than just hockey and fishing lines
Off of the rocky coast of the Maritimes
And some say what defines us
Is something as simple as 'please' and 'thank you'
And as for 'you're welcome,' well, we say that, too
But we are more than genteel or civilized
We are an idea in the process of being realized
We are young, we are cultures strung together then woven into a tapestry
And the design is what makes us more than the sum totals of our history
We are an experiment going right for a change
With influences that range from A to Zed
And yes, we say 'Zed' instead of 'Zee'
We are the brightness of Chinatown and the laughter of Little Italy
We dream so big that there are those
Who would call our ambition an industry
Because we are vineyards of good year after good year
We reforest what we clear
Because we believe in generations beyond our own
Knowing now that so many of us
Have grown past what we used to be
We can stand here today
Filled with all the hope people have
When they say things like 'someday'
Because we are more
Than a laundry list of things to do and places to see
More than hills to ski
Or countryside ponds to skate
We are the abandoned hesitation of all those who can't wait
We are first-rate greasy spoon diners and healthy living cafes
A country that is all the ways you choose to live
A nation that can give you variety
Because we are choices
We are millions upon millions of voices
Shouting, keep exploring
We are more
We are the surprise the world has in store for you, it's true
Canada is the 'what' in 'what's new'
So don't let your luggage define your travels
Each life unravels differently
And experiences are what make up
The colours of our tapestry
We are the true North
Strong and free
And what's more
Is that we didn't just say it
We made it be"

The Brits: "Whiners of Olympic Proportions"???

     Those fleet-tongued men of Fleet Street are at it again ... grumbling, whining, complaining about the Canadian Olympics.  To be fair, these mammoth games have not gone smoothly.  But, if they had, well, it wouldn't have been Canadian, eh?  We cheer when someone tries their best but comes up wanting, we even like it that way - perfection is soooo boring!!!

     (Interesting to note that I'm using the word 'we' above, since as soon as I open my mouth someone generally asks me when I came to Canada.  My usual reply is: "Before you were born" - which is generally true since I left Britain in 1966.  Having lived in Canada for almost 44 years, I have steadily grown to adore my adoptive country as one who loves the middle relaxed way, who doesn't puff itself up, and who is modest to a fault.)

     So, when I read that the British press is slagging what hard working people have tried to do in Vancouver, I see RED!!!  How dare they???  Four days into a 17-day event they have written it off as "the worse Olympics ever"???

     (I should state here that I am not really a fan of Olympic games.  Like many others, I feel it has moved light years away from the original Olympic spirit, is ridiculously over-priced, and with all the drug infractions - who can take many of the athletes' accomplishments seriously?)

     Yet, with the rest of our country, I found myself glued to the TV last night to see if Patrick Chan could get a good clean skate in the men's figure skating short programme. (He didn't, but then, he is Canadian, and we know he tried his best - he's such a sweet guy.)

     I had a chuckle this morning reading in our local newspaper where one reporter scolded those Brits who would slag us in their national press. He wondered if their frustration at these Olympics was in part due to a recent study conducted by Utrecht University in Netherlands which found that 40% of British men suffer from a premature tendency which is medically defined as "an inability to last more than a minute in bed".

     (Ooops, now that was a cheap shot ... especially since I am married to a Brit!!)

Let the games begin ...

 So, Gretsky got to light the outside Olympic flame, but the Opening Ceremonies certainly had it's share of embarrassments!!  Right from the start when our Governor General - the Queen's representative in Canada - was led into the executive box and officially recognizing the crowd, there were empty seats all around her, people taking off coats and chatting behind her, and others still shuffling into their seats!  It looked disorganized and amateurish at best.  (Later we were told the empty seats belonged to the leaders of the First Nations - who were late - did someone forget to tell them what time to come???)

With the tragic death of the Georgian luge athlete earlier in the day fresh in everyone's minds the Ceremonies stumbled along ... and there certainly were stumbles!  But, I loved the opening of the snowboarder skiing down the gigantic snow-covered mountain and seemingly right into the Stadium through the Olympic rings - cool start.

Thank you, thank you K.D. Lang for that fantastic rendition of Leonard Cohen's  'Hallelujah'  it gave me goose bumps (but then, anything to do with Cohen does!!)


A reader's comment left on the cbc.ca website captured my feelings exactly ...

"Well ... what could have been more Canadian than that opening ceremony?

I found it understated and genuine, not garish and phony like Beijing. You had your athletes, of course, drunk politicians, overweight and washed up performers, gay fiddlers, people of all races and cultures, a lesbian in a man's suit singing Hallelujah, an opera singer with an almost unpronounceable name and, oh yeah, a fat guy telling what it means to be Canadian.

Only in this country would we be so content in our own identity as to experience technical difficulties during the lighting of the Olympic flame, laugh it off, fix it with duct tape and binder twine and carry on with a good chuckle.

These are the things that make Canadians unique in the world. We are who we are and we have nothing to prove to anyone. I could not be happier or prouder."

Hear, hear!!

Olympic Flame

Opening ceremony tomorrow evening for the Vancouver Olympics, and this non-sport lover will be watching.  No-one expects anything like the over-the-top, let's-impress-the-world extravaganza put on by China two years ago, but who will light the Olympic flame is a closely guarded secret.  Amusing to read in the newspaper this morning the famous Canadians who are suspected of being chosen.

My vote would go to my absolute favourite singer/poet and all-time charmer (not to mention devout Buddhist!) Leonard Cohen ... but I'm sure it won't be him.  Another name mentioned is actor Michael J. Fox who is bravely battling Parkinson disease, but not many people even know that he is Canadian.  The most amusing on the prospect list was Pamela Anderson!!!  Hmmm ...

My guess is that it will be Wayne Gretsky ... he's Canadian, an athlete, beloved hockey player and all-round decent person.  He'll be the popular choice - no doubt about it.

And, the winner is ....

There was a standing ovation for Ian Brown at the Charles Taylor Prize banquet last night.  I am so happy that his book "The Boy in the Moon: A Father's Search for his Disabled Son" (which I enjoyed so much and wrote about here on January 11th) won the coveted and highly prestigious Charles Taylor award for Literary Non-Fiction.

His book had very strong competition, since the other three finalist nominees were acclaimed biographies of popular political giants Pierre Trudeau and Rene Levesque, plus famed media baron William Randolph Hearst, and I feared they would dominate over the memoir of a humble father living with his severely disabled son.  But, they didn't, and that proves encouraging for our humanity!

The National Post reported:
"To explain why they chose his book The Boy in the Moon as this year’s grand prize winner, the jury lauded The Globe and Mail writer for his sensitive exploration of “a netherworld where medicine and morality meet” and for telling the story of his disabled son “with artless candour, quirky humour and unsparing detail.”

Exactly! 

Hurray for Ian Brown, and for parents everywhere trying to cope with a disabled child on the limited resources available from our government!

Is 60 old???

I saw in the paper on Saturday that Ringo Starr is almost 70.  (If you don't know who Ringo is, then I pity you ...)  The headline to the newspaper article was "Still Rockin' it at 69".  The author must have been some young upstart of 25 or so, because the implication was that Ringo maybe shouldn't still be "rockin' it".  He was never my favourite Beatle, but looking at his laughing picture next to the story, bearded, multiple ear-rings, close cropped hair, I thought he looked great!

The reporter quotes him as saying that he'll have less angst about turning 70 than he did about turning 40. 'Forty was: "Oh God, 40!"'

I can relate to that.  Turning 40 was the hardest milestone for me too.  The rest were easy.  Last year I turned 60, and to celebrate I stopped colouring my hair, and now proudly sport a silver/grey mop of it.  (My husband has been grey for years and no-one asks him if he's going to colour his hair.)  Looking in the mirror these days I sometimes wonder where on earth those  sixty years went, but I don't dwell on it - what's the point?  Like Ringo, I laugh and get on with enjoying each day.

This is definitely the very BEST time, and I totally agree with the wonderful writer Ann Morrow Lindburgh ...

"At our age we can get rid of a lot of superficials.  Vanity for one thing ... We can relax in whatever is becoming and comfortable.  We don't have to be 'house-proud' and struggle over possessions ... Many of our duties to family, to town or country, have dropped.  We are freer now to do what we want.  We can choose our pleasures, without guilt, be ourselves without pretence ... "

No wonder the Red Hat Society ladies have so much fun - bring on the red hats and purple boas!

WARNING

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .

                                                                          - Jenny Joseph

Bye until next time!

Grandmothers To Grandmothers

Have you heard about the Canadian campaign to help the thousands of grandmothers in Africa who are raising their grandchildren after their own children have died of AIDS?  I've read about it a number of times over the years, but it came to my attention again the other day and I checked to see if there is a group in my area.  There isn't.  So, I'm thinking of starting one.

"Toward the end of 2005, Stephen Lewis and his daughter Ilana Landsberg-Lewis (Executive Director of the Stephen Lewis Foundation) began discussions about how to support grandmothers in Africa. During his travels in Africa, Stephen heard first-hand from grandmothers about the challenges they face in raising their orphaned grandchildren.

At the same time, Ilana was reading countless proposals and recognized that grandmothers were increasingly fundamental to programmes working on AIDS at the grassroots. While SLF was already supporting women, orphans and people living with HIV and AIDS, it became clear that a fourth area had to be added to the mandate: support for grandmothers."

From the campaign website:
 www.grandmotherscampaign.org

Thus, the Grannie movement started in 2006, and already there are over 220 Grannie groups across Canada raising money for their counter-parts in Africa, and advocating for them. 

The concept appeals enormously to me.  I suppose because I'm a Grannie myself, and it has obviously spoken to hundreds of other Grannies across Canada, as they are an extremely active bunch of women!  Not only Grannies - many groups also include members who are friends, children or spouses of Grannies.

But, I'm reluctant to commit, something is holding me back.

I'm struggling with the question of whether I'm up to/want the challenge of starting such a group.  Do I want to jump head-first into this? (It's the only way I do things!)  My recent activities have become much more me-focused, which is what I needed, and I have been very careful not to get as heavily involved in community projects here as I was at our last home ... and I'm finding that I like it like that.  It works.

And yet ...

I look at my strengths:  I have been told I have excellent organizational skills (you don't survive a class full of 6 year olds for long if you haven't!! ;-). I'm told my enthusiasm is contagious and it draws people to me;  I have been quite successful at fund raising in the past; I enjoy a challenge; plus, I have a strong desire to help this cause.

On the negative side is the fact that I don't know many people here yet - I am untested and unknown in this area, and it would take an enormous amount of effort to build necessary contacts etc. (However, I do have two or three excellent neighbour friends who may help me.) And, there's this 'thing' pulling  me back ...

What to do??? 

During my first burst of enthusiasm I contacted the SLF organization and they are sending me material to help set up a group (they are VERY well-organized, which impresses me), I've spoken to the leader of one of the many groups in Ottawa and was given lots of tips and information, and I've been in email contact with other 'high-rollers' in the organization who will help me get started.

Have I made my decision?  Am I simply scared of jumping into it?  Am I thinking too much about it?


Possibly ...
 

I think I'll be a vet when I grow up ...

My dog has to go to the vet tomorrow to have a tooth pulled.  Now, I love my dog, and I sometimes wonder if vets don't play on that love.  'Darcy' has an abscess on a tooth, (apparently) and the swelling on her face was what prompted the vet's visit today.  She didn't seem to be in any pain, and I'm ashamed to admit that the lump has been there for some time, but even though family funds are short right now, my husband felt she ought to be seen. (Note I'm blaming my husband for this one.)

The vet examined her teeth (as much as Darcy would let him), felt around the lump and pronounced that it was "probably an abscess caused by a broken tooth. That will be $96 please." (Well, he didn't actually say the last bit, but his receptionist was quick to add it.)  I think the few generic anti-biotic tablets he gave us for her were included in that price.  $96 for a ten minute visit.  Why, that's $576 an hour - I doubt if my own family doctor makes anything close to that much!

Tomorrow she'll have the tooth pulled at a cost of over $700.

Friends of ours have a 14 year old dog who pulled a tendon in his leg before Christmas.  The dog is recovering fairly well, but has a limp and can't walk as far as he used to - well, he is 98 in people years after all, I don't suppose many 98 year olds can walk too far.  However, this couple is paying over $4,000 for an operation on the dog's leg to help him walk better - and there's no guarantees!

Has the world gone mad?  Have I gone mad?

Would people in Haiti think us mad?

Maybe I'm just thick ...

Just returned from my weekly yoga class, and my whole body, from the tip of my  head to my toes is whispering thank you, thank you!

Why is it we often don't know what we are missing until we find it again?

I haven't been to yoga since before Ray's operation, almost 2 months.  Driving him around and with Christmas stuff to do I didn't put out enough effort to get to class.  But, as soon as we started into the stretches this morning my body sighed with recognition and joy and I realized then that this was what it had been needing.

Maybe I'm just thick, but it's the same with getting outside for a lovely long walk.  I look out the window and think "Nope, way too cold, takes too much effort", but if I shut my mind off, and force myself, it feels great to be striding out through the countryside breathing the crisp, cold air.

I don't think my brain is my best friend ...

Bye for now!

Season's tickets?

Now that we live in Canada's capital, and feeling very grateful for having all this culture on our doorstep, I purchased theatre season's tickets last fall for Ray and I to see 5 plays at the National Arts Centre.  (Ottawa has as many theatres as some cities have pubs and there are lots of choices, but we thought we'd start at the top and work our way down.)

Are season's tickets ever a good buy????

I'm struggling with that.  The pros are obvious.  Buy the tickets, save money (usually getting 5 plays, or more, for the price of 4), often get priority seats, you write the dates on the calendar, put the tickets in a safe place, and there you have it - a season of entertainment and you can then forget all about it until your designated theatre night.

However, the cons are beginning to surface for us.  First, you only save money if you actually attend all plays, and although most theatres allow you to swap nights, it often involves driving downtown to the box office and physically switching tickets for another date.  Sometimes you have a choice of plays, but in our case at the NAC it came as a package of 5, and you must be open-minded and take your chances that it will be something you will enjoy (or, as in some cases, at least understand!)

Which brings me to last night.

Ray and I attended out 3rd play of the season, it was called "Mother Courage and her Children".  It featured a woman during the 17th century pulling her cart and three grown children around Europe following the waring armies (either side, she wasn't fussy) selling everyday items and alcohol to the soldiers.  A tinker of sorts, but always profiting from the war.  Whilst set in the Thirty Years War, it is the story of war everywhere and at all times. It was stark, raw and bleak.  It was also very long!  The director used a modern stage setting consisting of six pianos which were occasionally played, but generally turned around and their backs provided stage divisions.  I spent a good part of the first half wondering about the piano's significance. (Why choose pianos?  Is it as a contrast to the harshness of war, since pianos often bring joy?)  I had to agree with one comment I overheard as we filed out for a much needed break during Intermission, "This is arduous!"  Indeed it was.  Many must have thought so, as the theatre (only half full to begin with) had an even smaller audience after Intermission.  We drove home after the play in a rather dour mood, trying to make sense of all the plays' symbols and wondering if we are stupid, or was the play just too obscure.  Whatever, it definitely was NOT one we'd freely pick.

Returning to the topic of season's tickets - we were not able to attend the 2nd play of the season because my husband had just had surgery, so gave the tickets to family members.  That leaves us with two plays left, (I have to admit that the first of the season was fabulous!!) 

Hmmm, are season's tickets ever worth it???

Bye for now ...

I've just been looking at some of the horrific photographs coming out of Haiti these days after the 7.0 earthquake stuck their poor already ravaged country.  So, I was feeling rather sober and not a little down, when I suddenly spied a headline which instantly lightened my mood - in fact it made me laugh my head off!!!

"PARENTHOOD LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE: STUDY"

Now, I love the 3 children I gave life to as much as the next person does theirs ... but, did they lower my blood pressure??  What??  Is this a joke????  It HAD to be written by a man ...

So, wiping my eyes, I read on ...

"It is thought the fulfilment of children giving life meaning makes parents more content which has an effect on blood pressure, researchers from Brigham Young University in Utah said."

I kid you not, this is apparently a true study, printed in today's UK 'Telegraph'.  Now, don't misunderstand me, I wouldn't trade the experience of being a mother for anything, but, as someone once said: "Motherhood is not for Wimps!" (I think I still have some notelets somewhere from my 'young mum' days which showed a woman in boxing gear, complete with boxing gloves, standing in her toy/food/clothes strewn kitchen ... I used them for encouragement notes to my other 'stay-at-home-mum' friends)

Actually, I have been conducting my own unofficial study for many years now.  Basically, it involves reading the obituaries (isn't it funny how once your age starts getting 'up there' that page takes on more meaning?)  I note people are adding photographs more often these days, and that really helps with my study, because I search out the ones of elderly women, particularly those who still look good for their age.  Invariably I find a photograph of an aged, well-lined face but with a serene, confident (dare I say, smug??) smile, and upon checking I note the woman's age as being way up in the 90's, with NO mention of children!  But, instead, a long list of accomplishments and accolades collected throughout a long and very active life. So, my conclusions are that childless/husband-less women: a) live longer, b) keep their looks, and c) die with a smug ("I know something you don't know") smile on their face.

I accept that this is a totally unscientific study, and the Telegraph would never publish it ... but next time you read the paper, look in the Obituaries, and checkout the smug looking women who died in their 90's. I bet they were childless!

Now, if the headline had said:

"GRAND PARENTHOOD LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE"

well, then I could totally understand it - because everyone knows that!  (They are our reward for having children! ;-)

Bye for now ...

I've just finished reading "The Boy in the Moon" ... wow, Ian Brown really writes a mean sentence!  I watch him on T.V.O. introducing The Human Edge and The View from Here and have always admired his brutal honesty and no-nonsense talk.  That's exactly how he writes about his profoundly disabled son, Walker, in this book.  From the first 10 pages in which Brown describes the incredibly complex and frustrating steps he must go through to get his boy a drink of warm milk and change his diaper during the night, he has you hooked.  You are with him ... you feel his frustrations, his worries, his joys, his fatigue, and also his incredible love for this child.

But, this is not simply a father/son love story.  The sub-title is "A Father's Search for his Disabled Son", and that is the real theme of the book.  Brown's search for the person inside, the boy behind the crying, the hitting, the feeding tube and the diapers that is his son. He asks, "Are you there Walker?  Do you know me? What is going on in your mind?"   And, we anguish with him as he watches constantly for signs beyond the simple clicks that father and son have developed as a type of communication.  Ian Brown allows us into his own mind, into his thoughts, feelings and fears ... his honesty is at times disarming, but I found I could not stop reading, even through my tears.

An extraordinary book, it opens a small window into daily living with a profoundly disabled child, and I guarantee it will make you reflect, weep, engage ... and, yes, even cheer.

Paula Todd  wrote an excellent review of this book in the 'Globe and Mail' and summed it up perfectly.  http://www.theglobeandmail.com/books/review-the-boy-in-the-moon-by-ian-brown/article1301478/

I'm back!

Hello again, it's been a while since I posted anything here. But, now that the winter winds are blowing outside, and the snow is piling up at the door (along with the rest of the world's doors, it seems) I have lots of extra time on my hands ... and there is nothing I like better than writing (after reading and gardening!)

Does anyone else have a problem remembering all the different security codes we need to use these days??? I'm extremely bad and do what I've been told I'm NOT to do, and use the same series of numbers and letters for just about everything (hackers/forgers etc. forget it, I have no money, so move onto someone else!) Anyway, we recently received a new credit card which has one of those ultra, super-duper security chips in it, so instead of just swiping I must now punch in yet another series of numbers to use it. My husband set it up, and for the life of me I cannot remember the numbers he chose! Apparently, writing them down and hiding them in my purse is a complete no-no, so, he gave me a verbal clue to remember them.

An hour ago I was out buying a rather delicious bottle of wine (my favourite kind of errand.) At the check-out I tentatively put my charge card in the machine, thought of the verbal clue hubby had provided me, and confidently punched in the required numbers. It told me I had made a mistake. So, I took my time and did it again, slowly - again I was reprimanded by the machine - wrong security code. It told me I had one last chance to get it right - seriously, the tiny machine actually chastised me!! (Luckily, the sales clerk was a lady of advanced years and unlimited patience, and had probably seen this many times, she smiled sympathetically at me.) The 3rd try was also rejected. Now, this was getting very embarrassing as I had no cash to pay for the wine. So, I reluctantly removed my card from the feisty little machine and replaced it with my debit card. As soon as I saw my debit card I realized what I had done - yup, I had punched in my debit card code for the charge card code. The sales clerk was as happy as I was when it was accepted and I high-tailed it out of there asap!!

Did I ever tell you how much I hate numbers??? I loath them, they make my head go dizzy, I can't remember them, they confuse me ... I even had to take my math GCE exam twice!!! (Thank heavens I'm married to an engineer!!)



Until next time, bye for now.