Finished!

After frantically finishing NaNoWriMo I rattled off a list of projects I needed to get done before Christmas. Today I completed my last task, a Christmas stocking for our youngest. Now with my shopping done too I can sit back, relax and just hang out with my hubby and the kids for the holidays. Sweet.

Stranded

Yep. We are. Stranded. We were heading home from our weekend Christmas celebration at my in-laws. We knew the last portion of highway heading north to our town was closed, so we drove inland to come in from the east. By the time we were about 40 minutes from home the other highway was closed. We are now camped out in a small motel in the middle of no where. But it's all good. The kids are using my hubby as a jungle gym and we are able to piggyback on someone's wireless internet connection. The plan is to watch Christmas shows and brew up some hot chocolate in the coffee maker. It's actually kind of fun.

Update: ('cause I'm bored and this is ceasing to be fun) The above map shows the road conditions in our part of the province. The black bolded highways have poor visibility. The little signs with diagonal lines mean that the road is closed. The conditions are far worse now than when we set out this afternoon from the in-laws. I hope this doesn't mean that we will be stuck here at the Bates Motel tomorrow. The latest reports are that the plows have been pulled off the roads in the three surrounding counties. This is not unusual for our part of the province, but it is for so early in the winter. And we are usually snug in our comfy little home snuggling with the kitties by the fire and sipping hot chocolate, not in a motel on the side of the road ... at least this will make for a good Christmas story in the years to come.

Mystery morsels ...

About three times a year we receive a package from China. The senders are our youngest daughter's former foster family (she spent weekends with them during the months leading up to our adoption). Today the Christmas parcel arrived. In keeping with their intent to help our daughter maintain a connection to her Chinese roots as well as to expose us to our daughter's birth culture, in addition to the usual toys and knicknacks the foster family sent us something inherently Chinese. In the past it has been such treasures as laquerware, miniature clay tea pots, jade trinkets. This time it was food. I'm not talking the delectable chocolate treats that graced our daughter's birthday package. This is the real deal and there's a box FULL of it. I could open a small food kiosk in the local mall, if we had one ... There are eight different things to choose from, some savory, some sweet. There are spicy crackers, peanut clusters, some sort of rice cakes, strawberry-flavoured biscuits, bags of small pecans, chowmein noodle squares (that look similar to rice krispie squares), little sausage thingies vacuum sealed in foil (that we absolutely will not be eating - they went past their best before date during shipping) and these:

I don't know what the heck these things are, these little gelatinous spheres that can't be identified as man made or natural. I considered they might be some sort of processed lychee fruit, but I can't be sure, so I'm thinking they will also be filed in the "will not be eating" category. Our oldest, who is not Chinese and definitely not a culinary adventurer, has thrown everything into the "will not be eating" category. Meanwhile her younger sister is going to town. It is obvious that these are familiar tastes to her and she is excited beyond excited to have a whole box of nummy snacks from home sitting in the kitchen, especially snacks that she doesn't have to compete with her sibling for.

Food wussiness aside, we are so thankful to have these generous people in our lives. It is the exception, not the rule in Chinese adoption to have contact with the foster family (it is usually discouraged). While I understand the reasons for it, it is unfortunate. This family, who now feel like part of our family, are a valuable link for our daughter to her past and her homeland.

update: We got brave. The weird gelatinous spheres are definitely man made. They are an outer tasteless section surrounding black grainy stuff that tastes somewhat like sesame oil. Not good. Even our youngest concurs.

Thought for the day ...

Actually, there are three of them. Today I received one of those friendship chain-letter email thingys. Usually I find them sucky and annoying and don't forward them on/return them (apparently not wanting to bother others with unwanted junk in their inbox makes me a bad friend). However, the one I read this morning had lots of great little motivational phrases and I actually made the effort to pass it on. Here are some of the words of wisdom contained therein:

My mind is like a parachute...it functions only when open.

The pursuit of happiness is the chase of a lifetime! It is never too late to become what I might have been.

If I lack the courage to start, I have already finished.

Christmas Cookie Casualty

My husband has a favorite saying, "it's amazing that the human race has survived so long. The young of the species are so helpless." This is often said in exasperation after one of our kids has done a bone-headed thing. This would be such a case. While assisting with Christmas cookie duty our oldest got injured. Baking would seem to be a pretty innocuous activity. Apparently not. No, she didn't get her finger caught in the mix-master. She burned herself. This seems like an obvious enough cooking injury, but the bizarre part is where. Get this, her chin! That's right, only my schmoopster would burn her pretty little chin while standing on her tippy-toes trying to sniff the fresh tray of cookies newly pulled from the oven. She is now sporting a nasty looking crusty red strip about an inch long across her chin. Fortunately she is very fairly complexed, so the scar probably won't be that obvious. I have made a mental note not to let her help carve the Christmas turkey.

Festive flicks ...

Now that my kiddies are feeling more themselves (both had bronchitis last week & one had a bonus ear infection) and I've had a chance to start my Christmas baking, I'm getting into the festive mood. I love this time of year! One of the things I really enjoy is sitting back and watching a favorite Christmas movie/show with my hubby & kids. This can be quite time consuming since we have lots of favorites in our house. Heavily in rotation are:

Elf - I'm not usually a big Will Farrell fan, but he was born to play this role. I love Buddy!

The Polar Express - Freaky, zombiesque eyes aside, the animation in this movie is fabulous as is the music. My kids have several dance routines they've made up to the soundtrack, which can be heard blasting from our stereo at any time of the year. I'm sure our neighbours are wondering if they're living next to a family of elves (insert Ray's short joke here ...)

The Grinch (the original cartoon, not the Jim Carey abomination of a movie), Charlie Brown Christmas, Rudolph - classic, classic, classic

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - Chevy Chase at his best. Plus it's my mother's favorite, so every year I watch this in her honour.

White Christmas - It just wouldn't be Christmas without Bing and Rosemary crooning that classic tune ...

What is your favorite holiday flick?

Barbie wins smackdown against "bratty" rivals!

I don't like Bratz dolls. If you know me, this probably isn't news. As the mother of two little girls I think they send a horrible message to young kids. If you're unfamiliar with these diva dollies they have exaggeratedly large hips & lips, heavily made-up eyes and tend to sport provocative clothing that usually includes belly tops and mini-skirts (and really, I'm no prude). Whoever thought that it's healthy for five year olds to idealize little hoochie mammas with attitude needs a slap. The really sad part is people have bought into it. They are wildly popular with the line now including games, clothing, bedding, movies, Bratz Boyz and even Bratz Petz. Admittedly even we have one, though she is a sport version, tastefully dressed in soccer shorts and tee-shirt (it was a shameful, though highly successful bribe aimed at motivating our oldest to get over her fear of "getting kicked" during soccer).

Well after the holidays it seems that the these vinyl vixens will be disappearing from the market. Toy giant Mattel, maker of Barbie, the Bratz biggest rival, has recently won a copyright infringement lawsuit against MGA, the company that manufactures Bratz. The court case found that the designer of Bratz was still under contract with Mattel when the concept for the dolls was conceived. To that end, the judge ruled after the holidays all remaining Bratz must be recalled from retailers and MGA's moulds and other equipment for fabricating the dolls must be destroyed. Mattel has also been awarded 100 million dollars for breach of contract and copyright infringement.

While I would have preferred that Bratz were disappearing for more noble reasons I'll celebrate their demise regardless. No more will I have to endure hours of begging every birthday, Christmas, and shopping opportunity in between. I have explained for the last time why they are "inappropriate". Hallelujah!

Now if we could only get Barbie to work on that unhealthy body image ...

The sweetest sound ...

Our family is very verbal, especially my husband and our oldest daughter. They love to talk. Talk. Talk. Talk. Which is great. I love it. Words and communication are an essential part of life for someone aspiring to write well.

Our youngest daughter loves to talk too. However, speech has been a big challenge for her. My youngest has a moderate/severe hearing loss. Her loss inhibits her ability to hear certain speech tones such as "s", "sh", hard sounds like "k", and the endings of words. This combined with the fact that her hearing loss went unaided until she was almost three (we adopted her at age 2 1/2) and English is her second language, she has had some significant obstacles to overcome with speech. That being said, she has made monumental strides and with a lot of hard work and the assistance of a kick ass speech therapist she is pretty much on target for a child of her age with both receptive and expressive language. Our biggest challenge now is teaching her the speech sounds that are missing from her repertoire.

Tonight while doing some "home work", for the heck of it I pulled out the flash cards of words ending in the "s" sound ... house, mouse, dice, kiss (we had put these away a few months ago because she simply couldn't produce the sound). Well I almost fell off my chair!

me: What's this? (while showing my baby a picture of Mickey Mouse)

R: mouSe!

I thought it must be a fluke so I tried again.

me: What's this? (displaying a picture of a school bus)

R: (jumping up and down excitedly) buS! I wan to ride on a hool buS!

We all jumped up and down excitedly. Then we did the only thing we could do. Celebrate with banana splits.

Canada Reads!

This week CBC, our national broadcaster, announced the line up for "Canada Reads 2009". For those of you unfamiliar with this event it is kind of a combination virtual book club and debate. Every year Canada Reads features five Canadian works of fiction each of which are presented and defended by one of five Canadian celebrity panelists. The proceedings will be hosted by the always adorable Jian Ghomeshi and will take place the week of March 2 - 6. By the end of the week the Canada Reads panel will declare a winner (although I don't think there is much of a prize other than the honour and a nice jump in book sales). In the mean time you can wade into the novels and join in with the online discussion in the forum. Or, if you're like me, you can wait until the debate, let the panellists duke it out and then choose a book. And hopefully you'll discover some great Canadian lit along the way.

This year's line up:

The Book Of Negroes by Lawrence Hill

This is the saga of a woman's life from childhood to slavery and finally freedom.

The Book Of Negroes is being defended by television host Avi Lewis.

The Fat Woman Next Door Is Pregnant by Michel Tremblay, translated by Sheila Fischman

A day in the life of the author's childhood neighbourhood in Montreal comes to life in this tale defended by radio and television broadcaster

Anne-Marie Withenshaw.

Fruit by Brian Francis
This is the story of an overweight, unpopular thirteen year old growing up in the eighties in the largely blue-collar city of Sarnia. In order to deal with the ridicule of his peers the hero of this book retreats into his own imaginery world, complete with glamorous "Bedtime Movies" and a pair of talking nipples (hey, I'm not making this up!)

Fruit is being defended by Vancouver writer and radio personality Jen Sookfong Lee.

Mercy Among The Children by David Adams Richards
This novel set in the Miramichi region of New Brunswick examines the consequences when a boy vows to God that he will always turn the other cheek.
This title is being defended by singer/songwriter Sarah Slean.

The Outlander by Gil Adamson

The year is 1903 and a young woman finds herself on the run across Canada's west after becoming a widow "by her own hand."

Gemini award-winning actor and filmmaker Nicholas Campbell will be defending.

Happy reading!

I'm a wiener, I'm a wiener!

May I direct your attention to the shiny new web badge proudly displayed in my sidebar, the lovely colour-coordinated one with the viking ship. Yes, that's right, as of 10:56 pm I crossed that elusive NaNoWriMo finish line, and five days under schedule! I have been a writing fiend (mainly out of sheer panic).

What now? Um, bed. Then I'm taking a short break from the writing thing and focusing on a pile of holiday projects that are hanging over me. I have two Christmas stockings to make and embellish, a little sewing project for Santa Claus, a scarf to finish knitting, a gingerbread house to decorate, generally putting on my Martha Stewart hat (does Martha wear hats? ... anyways, you get the picture). I still plan on blogging though, to keep some writerly momentum going. Besides, I'd miss you guys.

Ok, off to do a little celebratory happy dance, then sleep. My brain is tired.

Slight recalibration ...

Due to the continued wintry weather through the night we need to make a slight recalibration of the amount of snowfall in my previous post ...
Up until now I have never seen the words "momentous" and "colossal" used in a snow squall warning. Crazy.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas ...

Oh, yes. I don't know about where you may live (some of you Michiganers might know of what I speak), but it's been snowing here now for about five days straight. Not unusual for one of Ontario's "snowbelt" areas ... if it were January! We have over a foot of the fluffy white stuff out in the yard now and more if you look at the snowbanks lining the driveway where we have shovelled, repeatedly. It's crazy! And apparently we're not done yet.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm one of those twisted winter-enjoying types (winter-loving is too strong). We take the kids skating every weekend, we like skiing, tobogganing, snowshoeing ... but even I am not thrilled when winter decides to rear it's frosty head this early. At this rate the snow banks will be too high for me to shovel any more by Christmas (insert Ray's short joke here).

I'm trying to find the silver lining inside the snow squall:
1. the kids love it
2. we will have really impressive pictures to send to my youngest daughter's former foster family in southern China
3. I can finally bust out the funky chunky scarf I knit myself last winter
4. the Christmas decorations that we are going to put up tomorrow will look totally fab with all of the snow to set them off. Yes, my oldest convinced my dh to let the kids decorate the Christmas tree tomorrow while he clamours up the ladder to put up the lights outside. It's a tad early, but what the heck, might as well go with it.

Back on track

Consider my last post therapy. It always seems when I feel overwhelmed and then post about it a good night's sleep gets me back on my feet and ready to go again. I have gone ahead and submitted an idea to the newspaper for a column. The theme is green living for families. I thought it was a pretty wide topic with lots of interesting possibilities. I'll keep you posted.

Lest we forget ...

Today Canada recognizes Remembrance Day, a time when we pause to honour our veterans of conflicts past and present. A time to remember the sacrifice of those who so valiantly fought and never made it home.

Today I will remember in particular one of the many brave men in our family who have served. I will remember him because for many years he was forgotten. His name was Arthur Manuel Hall. He was my maternal great-great-grandfather.

I discovered Arthur quite by accident. I was researching the background of a medal that my father had been given years before. As I examined it, looking for information to enter into my google search I found a name and service number inscribed on the side of the coin-like medallion. The name was Arthur M. Hall. I recognized this as my great grandfather's name, Arthur Montague. Curious for more details of my great grandfather's service I performed a search of the national Library and Archive's World War I database. I found Arthur amongst many other Arthur Halls, but one stood out. It was the name just above his. The name was similar, Arthur Manuel Hall, maybe a coincidence, but the regimental number for the two soldiers was almost identical. I clicked on Arthur Manuel's name. I was amazed as I read his attestation, or enlistment papers. Arthur Manuel was Arthur Montague's father.

I called my grandmother and pressed for details. She knew none. We had worked on the family tree before and there was never any mention of Arthur Senior. Even with the details I could now provide her my grandmother remembered nothing. She explained that she knew very little even about her own father, who died when she was only a teenager from complications related to being gassed during the war. There was never any talk of her grandfather.

It was an odd feeling to be the first person in decades to be introduced to Arthur. His papers told me he was a small man, only 5'4". He had a dark complexion with black hair and brown eyes. He had his initials "A.H." and a figure tattooed on his left arm. Arthur worked as a tin smith.

Over the next several weeks I tried to find out as much as I could about Arthur Senior. It was as though this long lost member of my family was coming to life before my eyes. The information was sparse. I learned about his regiment, where he fought, that Arthur had been killed in action. After consulting with a message board of WWI experts I also learned the details of Arthur's death. One of the members had taken the particulars and found the diary record for Arthur's battalion on the day he died.

War diary of the 1st Canadian Infantry Battalion 1917, Dec. 9th:
"During Day Enemy very quiet. Enemy barrage came down on right of our front line at 2:00 A.M. Enemy raided battalion on our immediate right – (27th Canadian Battalion) – Enemy never passed our wire. One non commissioned officer and 10 men wiring. Night very dark. Weather raining. Casualties – four on right killed, two on right injured"

That is all, just a notation on a page. There is no description of how. There is no name.
His military records disclose no more about his death. There is no medical report. The casualty card simply states "killed at front," his injuries apparently catastrophic since no aid was administered. He was simply one of four killed on the right, a notation in a column in a journal.

I am comforted however that he was not one of the countless unidentified soldiers buried in an unmarked grave. Arthur Manuel was laid to rest in a reportedly pretty little cemetery in the French countryside. The details of how he came to be in this serene place under the shadow of a large stone cross, rather than one in a vast landscape of crosses in one of the larger burying grounds remains a mystery yet for me to solve. But I know this. One day I will travel to France and find the pretty little cemetery known as "la sucrerie", after a sugar factory that once stood on the grounds. I will find this place and seek out quadrant II, plot C, marker number 13 and I will sit by my great-great grandfather's grave and I will tell him that he is not forgotten.

Lest we forget ...

What I've learned from NaNoWriMo, week 1 ...

1. 1,667 words per day isn't as hard as I thought it would be
2. I eat compulsively when I write (there goes my 13 lb weight loss all to hell!)
3. those little Halloween-sized Coffee Crisp bars are brutally addictive and should not be legal
4. my husband is extremely supportive of my writing (shouldn't have doubted that)
5. I really can be productive at the computer and manage with the rest of my daily routine (I just have to be creative with how I go about it)

I'm having a pity party, want to come?

Ok, Vivi, I've officially joined you in the ranks of NaNo-bitch. The wheels have essentially fallen off my grand NaNo plan and I am struggling to hold on. As you all may recall I made the momentous decision to start dragging my keester out of bed at 5:00 am to allow myself two hours of uninterrupted "me time" so I could try to foster a writing routine. This worked like a charm, for exactly two days. I was productive. Things were flowing. Then the fargin' time change happened. I expected it would cause a temporary disruption in the girls' sleep (they normally awaken at 7:30, so probably count on a few 6:30 ish mornings ...) Wrong. For some reason the time change caused my youngest's "mommy detector" to go into hyperdrive. For four mornings straight she woke up at 5:15! On two of those days I hadn't even gotten my document open before I heard her staggering down the hall. And not only was she up, she was up to stay. The first morning I made the mistake of trying to take her back to bed. The shrieking that ensued was horrendous, especially since she shares a room with her sister. So the darling child was hauled into mommy & daddy's bed where my poor groggy husband was expecting us. After four mornings we decided that we were getting dangerously close to this developing into an ingrained pattern. So very begrudgingly I have given up trying to get up at 5:00. I am now trying to squeeze my writing in where ever I can grab a few minutes. I'm managing to make my word count goals so far, but this kind of defeats the purpose of the whole thing. My main reason for NaNoing this year was to make some time for me and to establish a good writing routine. I would be lying if I said I wasn't feeling somewhat resentful yesterday. Apparently even by dragging myself out of bed over two hours earlier than the kids normal wake up call, I'm still not allowed to have any "mommy time".

Fortunately when my youngest woke up crying at 5:40 this morning (I guess she realized she'd overslept her previous 5:15 wake up call) I was able to get her back to sleep and she stayed asleep until 7:00. Even better was that my oldest wasn't woken by her little sister's escapades and she was able to sleep until 7:30. Fingers crossed that tomorrow sees further improvements. I'm hoping that if I can get the kids back on track sleep-wise that in a new days I may be able to try sneaking out of bed at the crack of dawn once more.

Taking a brief pause from NaNo ...

.. to mourn the loss of Joaquin Phoenix. No, he hasn't died. But he has officially announced his intentions to retire from acting to pursue a music career. I am devastated. He is my ultimate favorite actor. He was just so deliciously creepy as the spitefully jealous Commodus in Gladiator and riveting as a troubled young Johnny Cash in Walk The Line. I could go on, but I'll get depressed. Since it would be horribly bad karma I won't selfishly hope for him to fail at his newest endeavor so that he will return to our movie screens where he belongs. Instead I will wish him well and savour his last film Two Lovers. sniff. Good bye Joaquin.

Swing away Merrill, swing away ...

Work in progress!

I am happy to report that bright and early this morning I officially started Nano'ing. And yes, I hauled my sorry carcass out of bed at 5:00 a.m. And no, it didn't kill me. In fact, despite the lack of reporting on my sorry excuse of a word count widget, my tally for this morning is 1,915 words, 248 over the average daily requirement (to hit the 50,000 mark by November 30). Just like clock work, when I hit save after my last word count check my youngest rolled out of bed, but not until I had over two hours of uninterrupted writing time. I could really get into this early to rise thing (I might actually have to begrudgingly admit to my DH that he's been right all along - damn!)

Consider the trigger pulled ...

It's official. I've registered. I'm NaNo'ing. I'm also crazy, but that's not news. Here's the thing, I want to write. I've been told I should write - by three teachers, assorted family & friends, a psychic and now a tarot reader. I'm thinking maybe it's something I should pursue. On the other hand, I'm big on procrastination, self-doubt etc. so NaNoWriMo is going to be my proverbial kick in the pants. That being said, I'm now feeling somewhat naseous and quite a bit like I did before I started training for my first duathlon ... scared crapless, not really believing that I could/would really do it. But, since I had publicly declared my intentions I felt compelled to press on. I didn't want to feel like a quitter, nor did I want others to see me as one (peer pressure is a powerful thing, even if it's just imagined). I sucked up the fear and did it. Then I did it again. I'm hoping NaNo has the same affect on my writing.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with NaNoWriMo here's the rundown - copied directly from their site ('cause I'm too worried about my own word count right now to be bothered rewriting someone else's stuff):

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and—when the thing is done—the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.

In 2007, we had over 100,000 participants. More than 15,000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

Wish me luck! If you're NaNo'ing too and want to be my buddy here's my link.

Lots going on. Haven't been writing, but actually part of what I've been up to has to do with writing.
First, was my awesome hubby's birthday. That was Friday. We had a quiet dinner at a local favorite restaurant with the girls and then dessert at home. The festivities continued Sunday night with my family at yet another restaurant (no complaints here with all that cooking-free dining!)

On Saturday night, at the invitation of my friend Kellie, I attended "Ghoul's Night Out" with my sister and twelve other witches. Yes, that's witches, not bitches. It was a fund raiser for our county museum. The event was a ladies only costume party (come in your witchiest attire) complete with dancing, appetizers, funky cocktails (too bad I was a dd!), karaoke and tarot card readings. Lots of girlie fun! The party was also sponsored by a local spa, so every ghoul got a nice goodie bag full of pamper-yourself samples to take home.

Thrown in with all of the festivities I managed to completely reorganize our bomb-site of a yet-to-be-finished basement. This will be ever so helpful when it comes time to haul the Christmas decorations out in about five (?!!) weeks. It also allowed us to move our desk downstairs to it's future home in our future office. In the mean time our familyroom has become much more spacious. My computer has also now moved upstairs to my stepdaughter's bedroom. OJ is rarely here anymore due to those teengerish things like work and socializing, so we didn't think she would mind. Plus we didn't think she would object to having the computer in her room when she is here (I'll just hang out on my hubby's laptop on those occasions).

So what does all of this have to do with writing?
My husband's birthday? Nothing.
Ghoul's Night Out? My tarot reading was very favourable to me pursuing my writing. I was told I should start working on this "artistic" thing in question now and that I need to get over my guilt and just do it. It is part of who I am and others will benefit from it. The only catch - the tarot lady suggested I start getting up at 5:00 am to make time to write (the thoughts of 5:00 am are extrutiatingly painful to me and is something I will definitely have to ease into)
Moving the computer? I now have a much brighter, less cluttered, quiet place to work.

In the week since I posted last I have also been trying to work on an outline. I am this close to signing up for NaNoWriMo. For those unfamiliar I will post about it once I pull the trigger. My husband has actually been very supportive of this crazy idea. I just need to work on the 5:00 am thing ...

Hippy Dippy Joy Joy ...

We spent the afternoon at my father's house today. As my hubby helped my dad with some outside work I felt myself at loose ends. I started poking around and discovered a treasure tucked away in my old bedroom closet. Years ago I packed and stashed one of my childhood favorites ... the Sunshine Family Craft Store. My intent was to save it for my future kids. Well, the future kids were happily playing downstairs, so why not break it out, set it up and let them enjoy a blast from the past.

As the store took shape I had to laugh. It is truly a relic of the 70's (totally dating myself here!). The faux bookshelves are stacked with such titles as Beginner Weaving and Pottery For Fun And Profit. There is a large macrame wall hanging adorning the shop. While there actually aren't any potted "herbs" to speak of you can almost smell some questionable aromas lingering on the premises. But what else would you expect from a family of dolls where the mother wears peasant skirts and sandals and the father sports a turle neck and dabbles in pottery?

Being schooled by my three year old ...

So yesterday we were at my inlaws. I busted my three year old for enhancing her grandmother's dining table decor by emptying and arranging a tray of ice cubes amongst the dishes. In her typical manner she wailed like I had just murdered her best friend and ran to my hubby to rat me out for being a mean mommy. When she found no sympathy there she headed upstairs. I followed her up and and found her standing quietly in one of the bedrooms. When I asked her what she was doing she said "I'm madding!" I tried not to laugh. How cute, I thought.
Everyone else oohed and awwwed at my pumpkin's cuteness when I told my story.
Well she's got the last laugh now. Out of curiosity I looked it up and guess what? Mad can be used as a verb! Who knew?! Other than my three year old, that is.

verb (used without object)
Archaic. to be, become, or act mad
Inflected form(s); mad.ded; mad.ding

Happy Thanksgiving, eh

As we embark on our Canadian Thanksgiving weekend I could post about the usual "this is what I'm thankful for." However, anyone who knows me knows what I'm thankful for and it's probably quite similar to what they themselves are thankful for. So, for a different spin on things here's what I am not thankful for:

1. A federal election here being held simultaneously with a federal election south of the border, both of which seem based more on mud-slinging than dealing with the serious issues that should be addressed.

2. The inevitability of a second term with Stephen Harper as the hapless leader of our country.

3. The fact that a serving of Pepsi counts as 3 w.w. points (particularly brutal when I'm only allowed 18 pts/day!)

4. That my computer seems to be dying a slow, painful death (but I will be VERY thankful for the laptop that my hubby has promised as its replacement when it finally meets its ultimate demise ... )

5. That my youngest has declared all out war with me on the potty-training front. The little wench is one obstinate chiquita, but I.will.have.victory.

I hope everyone has an enjoyable weekend with their loved ones. And to my American friends, while we may get to eat our turkey one month earlier, you get the Macy's parade and a four day weekend (as aforementioned obstinate preschooler would say "no fair!")

ARMY OF WOMEN ...

If you are a woman or have a wife, mother, daughter ... this is a revolutionary project that needs your help. The Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation and the Avon Foundation have joined forces to create the Army Of Women initiative. This project has two goals :

"1. To recruit one million healthy women of every age and ethnicity, including breast cancer survivors and women at high-risk for the disease, to partner with breast cancer researchers and directly participate in the research that will eradicate breast cancer once and for all.

2. To challenge the scientific community to expand its current focus to include breast cancer prevention research conducted on healthy women. "

Unfortunately, this project is currently only open to women residing in the U.S. because, at this time, it only involves American researchers. However, I know there are American gals/guys who read this blog and my Canadian readers all probably know at least one American woman that they can share this information with. This is an important, fresh approach to finding a cause and preventative measures for breast cancer that will benefit all women.
The link for the project is here. Pass it on!!!

Root and Sprout, again!

While I haven't had a chance to do much in the way of writing lately I did manage to get another piece done for Root and Sprout. It appears in the October issue. Here is the link (scroll down the page to the article titled Taking A Leap Of Faith). Thanks again to Lis for giving me a place to present my work!

Writer in absentia

With all the fine fall weather we've been enjoying it's been way too hard to park my butt at the computer and try to bang out something on the keyboard, especially since autumn is my most favorite time of the year. Call me a slacker, but a brisk walk (kid-free!) on a sunny September morning is wayyyy more appealing! I've taken three of late (completely self-indulgent).

It hasn't been a complete waste of valuable work time though. I find walking time is great for bouncing ideas around in my head. I've mulled over the angle of a piece I want to propose to a veterans' magazine, put it aside and focused on a cultural idea, and am now planning a kids' sports article while also plotting a short (?) story. Even if none of this is actually on paper (or my hard drive) it still counts. Kind of. Doesn't it?!

A little good news is hard to find

Since my last couple of posts have been about writing I wanted to do something off topic today. I started thinking about current events trying to find something to blog about. Not a lot of good news out there. We've got the mudfest that is the election south of the border and the snooze-fest of an election that is going on here at home (I could write a page about the insanity that is the Sarah Palin phenomenon and lead that the Conservatives hold here in the poles, but my husband will think I've developed an obsession). Ike is too tragic. The economic chaos is troubling. Yep, good news is hard to find. So I'll give you some of my own ...

My youngest daughter's brain MRI was negative.
My washing machine repair will be partially covered by the warranty.
The wheeze/squeak in my chest is almost gone. The cough is completely gone (until my kids bring the next virus du jour home).
I've lost 10 lbs and am now a size 4 again (no, I'm not one of those skinny bitches obsessed with my weight - I'm petite and believe me those extra few pounds do make a difference!)
Root and Sprout will be featuring another one of my articles in the next edition.

Nothing super major (except the MRI) or earth shattering. But the most important place to find the positives and celebrate the good things is right here at home.

I'm back!

Ok, forget yesterday's suckfest. Bad day. Today I refocused (thanks BPV for making me ask how much I want it), put the polish on a little article that I've had sitting on my desktop for a month and submitted it. I also started some notes for a few other ideas I've been kicking around. Tomorrow I will be digging in the basement for the research I did months ago on a particular topic (just haven't unpacked it since our move in April). It feels good to be motivated again!

Guilt and the aspiring writer ...

Here's my dilemma. I want to write. I've always been told I'd good at it. I've taken some courses along the way. I'd like to try to develop my skills and give it a try.

On the other hand. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I feel that my family and home should be my first priority. This makes it extremely easy at any given time to find fifty different things that I could/should be doing instead of working at my computer. I do try to sit and write, but I feel that since I'm not a "professional writer" bringing in some income that in others' eyes I'm just blowing off time at the keyboard (I have a paranoia that when my kids are older they will have this image of me as simply being some sort of computer/internet addict and that they won't understand what I really was/am trying to do). That's where the guilt enters and I find myself pushing away from the desk and tackling another task.

I know I should designate a certain time of the day as my time and use this only to focus on my writing. Unfortunately, 9 - 11 pm is not what I would consider my optimal work time. I'm either too tired or run the risk of getting on a roll and staying up way past my bed time (a bad habit to get into when my oldest gets up between 6:30 & 7:00 each morning).

I had hoped that I could write during the hours that my youngest is at nursery school, but I find myself filling that time with other things ... working out, running errands, appointments ... things that are also much easier to tackle when I'm flying solo.

sigh ... feeling crappy about my aspirations today

September - Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

Ok, ladies (and concerned gentlemen) here is your public service announcement for the month. I will risk sounding like a broken record here (I know I've posted about this before) but it's a message that bears repeating.

As many you you know I lost my mother a year and a half ago to ovarian cancer. My sister has tested positive for BRCA2, one of the gene mutations related to breast & ovarian cancers (thanks merely to a roll of the dice I am, and therefore my biological daughter is also, BRCA2 negative).

This disease is the fifth leading cause of death amongst women and the most deadly form of cancer a woman can develop. It is extremely hard to detect. Often the symptoms are vague and mimic other illnesses. Doctors frequently miss the signs. Early diagnosis, and therefore education is crucial in beating this disease.

Here are some warning signs:

Abdominal bloating or discomfort
Changes in bowel function
Unexplained weight gain and a distended abdomen from fluid build-up
Nausea
Infertility or changes in menstruation patterns

If these symptoms persist for three weeks or longer you should see your health practitioner immediately.

For more information:

Ovarian Cancer Canada

Ovarian Cancer National Alliance

Little Miss Sunshine

Upon helping my daughters make paper fans:

M: You're a fantastic mommy!
me: Ah, thanks sweetie!
M: And you're so creative ... just like me.

Guess my worries about my five year old having good self esteem might be unfounded.

My bad ... : (

Bad blogger. Bad writer.
When I started out with this blog it was supposed to be my motivation to park my behind at the computer for more than wasteful purposes and perhaps produce at least a paragraph of prose more than once a week. Well, it would seem that I have completely fallen off the wagon. Funny how life will get in the way of such pursuits.

Next week I vow to get put my writer's hat back on & hit the keyboard ... just after I get my five year old off to grade one, my three year old off to nursery school (not too hopeful on that one), take the same three year old for a sedated MRI (also not too hopeful on that one - she is currently terrified of hospitals) and get a hair cut ...

Beating up on China

Warning: somewhat long winded rant ...

Although I enjoy watching the Olympics I am almost happy that they will soon be coming to a close. The daily bashing in the media of the host country China has become overdone and tiresome. No other venue, in my memory, has been so scrutinized and ridiculed. I have serious doubts if the Games had been held in a western country that so much criticism would have been levelled at the host.

Admittedly I am somewhat biased towards China. It is the birthplace of our youngest daughter. We have friends who live there. I am not blind to the objectionable policies of the Chinese government, but I do not feel that the daily western witch hunt to find flaws with these Games, or more specifically the host country is necessary or fair. It borders on racism.

Does it really matter that the little girl from the opening ceremonies was lip syncing to someone else's words? Prerecording music is used all the time in the entertainment industry. This was certainly not the first or last time it will be used during an Olympic opening or closing ceremony. By the outcry in the media you would think that the Chinese Olympic committee had beaten the poor child. Sure, it seemed mean spirited to replace the child behind the voice with a little girl that the officials deemed to be prettier, but how often in life are children judged by their looks? It happens all the time, in Hollywood, the media, in school yards. That doesn't make it right and I don't think it's appropriate when it happens, but the Chinese are certainly not the first to judge someone based on their looks. Was it a heinous act worthy of an international media frenzy?

Then it was revealed that, gawd forbid, some of the firework sequences from the opening ceremonies were prerecorded and digitally enhanced. So what?! It was a show. It added to the entertainment value of the production. But again, it was portrayed as yet another example of how those untrustworthy Chinese tried to pull a fast one on the rest of the world.

Now we hear accusations that some the Chinese women's gymnastics team was under aged (apparently their younger, tinier bodies would give them an advantage). I have to wonder if this would have been questioned at all if the team hadn't dominated in the event and it wasn't a western team that was perceived as being thwarted in the process.

What about Michael Phelps? Here is an athlete who grabbed eight gold medals and smashed world records in the process. His accomplishment seems implausible, but is he questioned? Does anyone point the finger and say "he must have cheated?" No. He is celebrated. I wonder if the attitude would be different if he was Chinese.

Then there is the Jamaican track team. They dominated "the big" races in winning the men's 100m, 200m, 4 x 100 m relay and women's 100m. Again, in the process world records fell. Does anyone accuse Usain Bolt of doping? No, they line up to hand him endorsement contracts.

I am not accusing any of these athletes of cheating. What I am commenting on is the public perceptions based on the athlete's home country. I have even heard suspicions of judges throwing decisions to the Chinese in situations where there were judgement calls to be made. So now the long arm of the Chinese government has reached out to influence the international judges in several sports?

This China bashing is not limited just to the Olympics. For the last few years there seems to be a marked increase in negative press regarding China.

The Chinese are sending us toxic toys! The toys that were found to contain led paint were but a drop in the bucket of Chinese made products that flood our stores. If the west didn't have such a voracious appetite for cheaply made Chinese goods perhaps incidents such as this would not happen.

The Chinese are selling us poisonous pet food! Don't trust any food products from China!
How about not trusting any food products from Ontario? The current Maple Leaf meats recall in Canada due to an outbreak of listeria shows that any source in the food chain can be vulnerable.

Why the China bashing? I think it goes beyond human rights and remants of a communist ideology controlling the ruling regime. It has to do with power. Economic power and power in sheer numbers. And it has to do with oil. The emerging economies in Asia, with massive populations to support, are now starting to put demands on the supplies of oil that the west is so addicted to. China is seen as a threat.

Maybe I'm overly sensitive because of my child's ties to China. But I don't feel that my sensitivity is unfounded. When the media continuously portrays a particular country in a negative light it isn't long before these negative attitudes begin to permeate public perceptions. Yes, my daughter is Canadian, but simply by virtue of her beautiful face she is first and always seen as Chinese. When adopting transracially we knew we would have to deal with issues of race, we just didn't count on this issue being exacerbated by the media.

One of those days ...

Today was not good. Low energy. Blah. It was a struggle to get through. I'm sure it got off to a bad start because of the lack of uninterrupted sleep from last night. Our five year old has a bad cough (allergy related) and was hacking unmercifully through the wee hours of the morning. At one point I had to relocate her to another room so she wouldn't wake the three year old.

Because of her bark, that seems to be settling into her chest, I kept our daughter home from day camp/swimming lessons today. Unfortunately her little sister had a speech therapy appointment out of town. So by 9 am we were all piled in the van and headed out on the highway. Half way there barky asked for the pewk bucket. A pail probably would have been more appropriate. Needless to say we didn't make it to our appointment.

Once back at home the day seemed to drag on. I felt like I could barely function. I was cursing the new "eating regime" I'm trying to stick to. I'm sure it was partly to blame for my lack of energy. And before any of you start in with the "are you crazy?! You don't need to lose weight!" let me just say you haven't seen me naked. Besides, I'm getting tired of camouflaging those little jiggly rolls under my clothes.

One o'clock rolled around. Thank gawd! The youngest will nap ... a reprieve! Or not. She decided that today she would like not to have a nap. No thank-you. No way. I think it's some sort of sick sense that children come pre-wired with. They can smell when you're weak and they will go for the kill every time.

I tried to relax for a few minutes and have a quiet moment in the family room (I'm not sure where the minions were by that point). One of our kitties decided to climb up on my lap. Nice kitty, purring, trying to make me feel better ... until he anchored himself to my leg with his claws and then swung off. Not only did he cut my leg, but my only pair of shorts that fit me decently (yes, I do need to lose a few). I don't think the day could get any worse. I was close to tears.

Then it happened. My wonderful, shining knight (ok, now I'm going to pewk! ha ha) My thoughtful husband sensed my distress during a phone call and cut his work out short to be home at his usual time and rescue me. After supper he whisked the kids away, not to return until just before bath time. Not only did he bring home two tired children, but also a bag of Lays. My hero! (I'll worry about counting points tomorrow).

Summer Is Waning ...

Can you sense it in the air? There is a distinctive feel to when a season decides to take leave and begin preparations for its successor to arrive. When August makes that turn everything begins to look over done, dry, spent. The crickets chirp anxiously. And the evenings begin to cool, single digit temperatures making for comfortable, restful sleep. I love this part of the summer. I'm not a scorching heat lovin', hit the beach kind of gal. Autumn is my favorite time of year and I welcome it's coming with open arms. I dream of crisp fall days with rust fallen leaves crunching under foot, a trip to the apple orchard and pumpkin patch with our girls, comfort food ... ahhh.
Yep, can't wait.

Missing a homeland that's not my own ...

Tomorrow is the opening of the Beijing Olympics. I have been watching the coverage leading up to the games with a lot of interest and emotion. It was a year ago this week that we were packing our bags and boarding a plane to Beijing. We were embarking on a trip of a lifetime to bring home our daughter.

It was exciting to be travelling to such a foreign land. But what I never expected was to fall in love with that land. I can't say that it was love at first sight. It was a gruelling trip, mixed with strong emotions. But through the mental haze my brain managed to grasp onto the tastes, the smells, the beauty, the people.

Now when I see the familiar sights flashing across my tv screen I feel a strange longing. I miss China. I read about friends preparing to embark on their own journeys to bring their new children home and I feel envy.

I believe much of my affinity for China has to do with the fact that it is my child's homeland. It is where she is from. It is part of who she is.

As I spend the next few weeks being bombarded with images of this familiar foreign land I will feel a strong melancholy. I feel it now. One day I will return to China and introduce my daughter to the home that I miss so much.

Published!

I am very excited that the August issue of Root and Sprout, a parenting ezine, features an article written by yours truly. It is titled Cultivating Community and can be found here.

While this is just a small piece, in my mind it is still an accomplishment. Root and Sprout is a great parenting resource and I am proud to have my work associated with it. It is the first thing I have had "in print" in eight years. It is something that I took the time to write, submit and put out there for public comsumption. It is the first step on my way to hopefully producing much more published work.

On The Rebound

I'm not talking about a lusty affair after coming off of a difficult break up. My marriage is perfectly intact and happy. Though since I've been happily married I do seem to have been embroiled in a lusty affair with food ... but I digress.

On the advice of our youngest's physio we bought a mini tramp. Not only is it fun for the kids to play around on, it's therapeutic, helping improve coordination and strength. I thought it might also be good for me to sneak in a little exercise here and there. I could bounce, bounce, bounce off a few calories while having a laugh. The trampoline even came with a workout DVD. Perfect.

So, I put on my gear and rolled out the tramp. I threw in the video. Like all other exercise productions on came the "instructor." And like all other work out productions she had a perfectly cut body and an annoyingly perky voice. She led me through a highly inadequate warm up and then climbed up on the tramp. Ah, the fun part. Perky Perfect started to jump, her pony tail flipping in a hypnotic rhythm with her bouncing. Then she said it. "Isn't rebounding fun!" Rebounding?! Ah, great. She had to ruin my happy jumpy time by giving it an official exercise name.

Suddenly the bouncing started to actually feel like exercise. Every muscle in my lower extremities ached with each jump. Then Perky Perfect piped up again "I bet you have a big smile on your face! Rebounding is soooo much fun!" Ah, actually honey, that was a grimace on my face because lactic acid is eating a hole through my calves, but thanks for noticing ...

I struggled my way through the rest of the work out. It was tough. No kid stuff. The next day I did it again. I was actually starting to enjoy it. Not Perky though. I became very bored with her very quickly. Fortunately there are only so many "moves" you can do on a mini tramp, so it wasn't too difficult to memorize Perky's routine.

Subsequently I have kicked little miss Perfect to the curb. But not my beloved mini tramp. I have managed to bounce for 30 minutes every day except one in the last week. I put my trampoline in front of the television, tune in to a favorite show and bounce away. The kids even join me and allow me to get my work out done. Hallelujah! Have I actually found an exercise routine that is kid-friendly and doesn't require me to negotiate with my husband for 30 minutes of his valuable time so I can burn some calories?! Perfect!

A Berry Fruitful Garden

Thursday night I received a panicked phone call from my father. He was leaving town in the morning and had just discovered that his raspberry patch was bursting at the seams with plump ripe fruit (I guess this mediocre, wet July we've been having was to the plants' liking). He had already picked 14 pints and couldn't do anymore. He implored me to come over on Friday and harvest what I could. I did. Ten more pints came off of the berry laden canes. Today my sister and brother-in-law harvested the remaining eight pints. That's 32 pints! Most have been frozen, some ear-marked for jam and of course more than a few eaten. In honour of this berry extravaganza here is my mother's raspberry pie recipe (the only thing I truly craved when I was pregnant with my five year old). Enjoy!

Grandma Nancy's Glazed Raspberry Pie
(Makes one 9" pie )

Ingredients:
1 quart raspberries
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
2 1/2 Tablespoons cornstarch
pinch of salt

Cook 1 cup of crushed berries with the other ingredients until thick. Pour this over the remaining whole berries in a baked pie shell. Chill.
Serve with whipped cream.

Night Caller

Last night was the first in many that both my girls were having a good sound sleep and neither had awakened me. I was lost in a beautiful slumber when at 3:00 a.m. I was roused by the shrill ringing of the phone. My thoughts immediately flew to my grandmother and father. My granny is 88 and hasn't been well lately. My father has a chronic form of cancer which is currently flared up. I scrambled to answer the phone.

caller: (teenage male voice) Hi!
me: Who is this?
caller: Rodney
me: I think you have the wrong number.
caller: (said very flirtatiously) Oh, I don't think so ... (I'm beginning to feel slightly creeped out)
Actually I'm just really lonely and am randomly dialling numbers trying to find someone to talk to. (now I'm beginning to feel annoyed)
me: Rodney, I have two young kids and need to be up early in the morning.
caller: Oh, sorry. Have a good night ... (cut off by me hanging up)

By this point I was fully awake. Initially I felt a pang of guilt. What if Rodney really did need someone to talk to? I replayed (repeatedly) the conversation in my head. I came to the conclusion that he was a little too peppy and "friendly" to be someone in crisis. Then I kicked myself that we don't have caller I.D. I would have loved to have phoned young Rodney at 6:30 this morning to tell him that I was now fully awake and would really enjoy having a little chat. Sheesh! It's bad enough that my own children disrupt my sleep on a regular basis. Now, on a night they decide to give me a break I have somebody else's kid waking me up!

A Woman Of Inspiration

This post should really be En garde! part deux since it is about another Olympic fencer. I think, though, that her story can be inspiring to all women.

Her name is Jujie Luan. She is a foil fencer, immigrant to Canada, and member of our 2008 Olympic team. She is also a mother of three and fifty years old!

Luan was born in Nanjing, Jiangsu province China (probably another reason that endears her to me since this is very close to our youngest daughter's birthplace). As a young girl Luan excelled at high jumping. Since the area was rich with promising track athletes she turned to the sport of badminton. However, at the age of sixteen an official decided that she should be trained in fencing and against her wishes Luan was removed from the school's badminton team and compelled to begin instruction in foil. Initially she resisted participating in her new sport, but the realization that this could be her opportunity to travel to Beijing and possibly beyond became her inspiration.

In just four years this young athlete would reach the status of icon in China. It happened in 1977 at the junior world championships. In Luan's first bout, her Russian opponent's blade snapped and punctured her left arm, her fencing arm. The match was halted while Luan received medical attention. The metal was removed from just below her bicep, she was bandaged and the tenacious 20 year old returned to the piste. Despite ongoing bleeding deep in her arm Luan persevered through the competition and climbed the podium to receive the silver medal. Her bravery was heralded in China in books and a film retelling her life story.

Jujie Luan went on to become the first Chinese athlete ever to win an Olympic fencing medal when she brought home the gold from Los Angeles in 1984. According to one article, she was so driven to win that she told her love, a man named David, that her motivation would be their future. They could not be married if she did not win the Olympics.

Luan retired from competition in 1988 after the Seoul Olympics. She and David were married and they immigrated to Canada in 1989. Since that time she has coached fencing in Edmonton.

Luan came out of retirement as the Sydney Olympics approached. In less than a year, at the age of 42 she trained herself and attained the qualification standard. Because she had not competed in many world cup events leading up to Sydney Luan entered the Olympics with a low international ranking. As a result she met a highly seeded competitor in the first round and ended with a 35th place finish.

Luan returned to Edmonton and continued with her coaching career. However, once again as the Olympics loom on the horizon, she has decided to return to the piste. This time the venue is her home country, China. At 50 years of age this self-coached athlete has met the International Fencing Federation's stringent qualifying standard. The once reluctant fencer, turned young hero will be returning to her homeland. She is now a mature woman representing a new country, but I believe that the people of China will still cheer just as loudly for their beloved Juijie Luan.

En garde!

The opening of the Beijing Olympics is a little less than three weeks away. While I enjoy watching most of the sports I have to say there is one that is very near and dear to my heart. Fencing. For eight years when I lived in Ottawa I fenced competitively on the national circuit. It is with mixed emotions that I will tune in and cheer on our Canadian team.

At times I miss the sport a great deal. When you train three times a week plus compete one or two weekends per month it becomes very ingrained in your being. When I "retired" it left a big hole in my life. I regret that I never stuck it out long enough to test my full potential. My weapon, women's sabre was just in it's infancy when I left the sport. It was only beginning to be recognized at the international level and I never had the opportunity to compete outside of Canada. I often wish that I had pushed myself to continue and take that next step (there were a variety of personal reasons why, at the time, I had lost my desire to compete).

However, it is with pride and excitement that I can say that I have shared the piste with our Olympic Team's Sandra Sassine and Wendy Saschenbrecker. They were just teenagers at the time, but fierce competitors none the less. I am thrilled that they have achieved this success. Unfortunately women's sabre is not likely to be broadcast (fencing tends not to get a lot of air time) and I will probably only see these girls on the CBC's highlight show.

However, two other members of Canada's team that I also watched grow from gangly youngsters into world class athletes are foilist Josh McGuire and epeeist Sherraine Schalm. These two likely will make some of the regular Olympic coverage and I look forward to cheering them on. In fact, Sherraine has become a bit of a media darling and for good reason. She's witty, talented, not only as an athlete, but also a writer (she has a published book called Running With Swords) and she isn't hard on the eyes. Even more, Sherraine is a medal contender, so don't be surprised if you see her climbing onto that coveted podium. I won't. You can follow her personal Olympic journey here and here.

In the mean time I will put my regret aside (and I must emphasize, though it should go without saying, that I would not trade the life I have now for any of it) and will live the Olympic dream vicariously through these talented Canadian fencers. Allez!

Holy Smokes!

Last night I caught my three year old smoking. Well, she hadn't really sparked up a ciggy, but what she was doing was almost as shocking. She had taken a pair of table legs from a doll house and had one hanging from her lips while the other was gripped firmly in her hand. When I told her to take the white plastic tube out her her mouth she quickly demonstrated to me that it was ok, she was just puffing on a cigarette. I was horrified. Initially I blamed it on my sister (sorry Sis!) since she is the only person that my daughter sees smoking on a regular basis. However, my sister never smokes in our house, so I was a little surprised that a three year old would so demonstrably mimic a behaviour that she hadn't really been exposed to that much. Then it dawned on me. The culprit wasn't my sister, but a movie - Grease. Both of my little ones love musicals, with all of the singing and dancing, bright costumes and high energy. A dvd that sees high rotation in our house has been Grease. Admittedly a lot of the subject matter is much too mature for a five and three year old, but I (obviously naively) thought that it would be over their heads, that they would bop along to the tunes and not clue into the grown up stuff. Wro-ong! Big lesson for me. There is lots of smoking in Grease and apparently as a result I have a three year old who has decided to take up the habit. Now I'm thinking it's just a matter of time before my five year old picks up on the sexual content. Needless to say this title has been pulled from our dvd library until later notice. Much later!

The Zoo Dilemma

Friday we are bringing the girls to the zoo. I am torn. There seems to be something fundamentally wrong about taking animals out of their environment and putting them in enclosures for curious humans to oohhh and ahhhh.

On the other hand, often people respond better to a cause or a situation if they can relate to it. If we can see endangered animals up close perhaps we can develop a greater empathy for the creatures of this planet.

There is also the benefits of in-captivity breeding programs. Many species that are in serious peril often persist because they are being nurtured in protected environments. Recently the CBC documentary series The Nature of Things featured a program about threatened wildlife and conservation measures being taken in China. One of the animals highlighted was a creature called the Milu. These deer-like mammals were once extinct in the wild but through the reintroduction of the species, from a herd that has been in captivity in England, the Milu are now roaming again in Jiangsu. (Of course we must acknowledge that if it weren't for the devastating affects that humans have brought on the planet there would be no need for conservation measures, but that's another post ...)

So Friday, we will enter the zoo with a burden of guilt. But we will also enter with hope. Hope that we and our children will take away more from this encounter with some of nature's magnificent creations than a tacky souvenir from the gift shop. And hope that one day there will no longer be a need for such institutions.

Hair ...

long beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen ...
What is it with men and hair? If there is one thing about me that disappoints my husband it's my hair. He, like many others of his sex, prefers long hair. Being a woman of shorter stature and maturing age (well, not that mature) I don't think that flowing lengthy locks suit me.

I used to have long hair. Half way down my back hair, substantial enough to twist into three braids which I in turn braided together. The waves when I unwound it were glorious. My live-in boyfriend at the time apparently thought so. In fact I always suspected it was behind our breakup. While he was away on a bike trip with the guys I cut my hair off. I thought it was time for a change. I went for a cute shoulder length do. I loved it. Evidently he didn't. Very shortly thereafter he ended our two year relationship. He would cite other reasons (the usual "I don't want to hurt you" blah, blah) but I always suspected it was the hair. I considered it the Samson effect. I chopped off the locks and the power was gone.

My hair never seemed to be an issue with the guys I dated after that. In retrospect they probably never noticed. Then enter my husband. My wonderful, sweet husband, who just happens to hate my hair. He seems to feel that I've somehow betrayed him follicularly. I'm not sure why. When we met I was sporting a mid-length style. He was never lured with promises of Rapunzelesque locks. No false advertising here. But every time I return from the hair salon I get the same disappointed sigh, perhaps a half-hearted "your hair looks nice" quickly followed by "but you know I like your hair long."

I am not alone in this land of hubby hair hatred. A girl I used to know told me that she had long hair throughout her courtship and the first weeks of her marriage. Then she decided to go for a new look and cut it. Her husband didn't speak to her for several days. Finally she gave him hell and asked if he had married her or her hair. More than once I've related this story to my better half. Every time he sides with the husband and cites radical hair chopping as a "deal breaker." While I know he is joking, I am also aware that his remark isn't without some truth in the man-world.

This morning I returned from the hair salon. I am actually trying to add a little length to my locks (getting bored with the short & sassy look). In order to struggle through the hideous "growing out" phase, as every woman knows, you have to keep cutting to maintain some semblance of style rather than watching a once manicured mane morph into a pseudo mullet. Men don't "get" this. Rather, my hubby moaned "she cut it shorter!" I attempted to explain. The "you're full of sh*t" look ensued.

After several hours my husband extended the olive branch and offered the half-hearted "you're hair looks nice." My turn for the "you're full of sh*t" look. Then my step-daughter chimed in. "I think it's cute. You look like a pixie!" While most middle-aged women don't aspire to be likened to a sprite I'll take it. After all, a compliment from a teenager definitely trumps a criticism from your spouse, especially if it's anything related to style. Now if only I could squeeze my forty-something body into some pixie-sized shorts I'd be laughing.

How Do You Like Them Apples?!

This morning I heard a crazy story on the radio. The item featured an interview with an apple farmer. The man told a tale of fruit laden trees, branches broken under the weight of unharvested apples. Shortly the rotting fruit that has tumbled to the ground will be ploughed under and replaced with a housing development. Why would a farmer blessed with such overwhelming bounty sell out? Because he can't move his harvest. Apparently an Ontario farmer cannot sell his apples to people in Ontario, or anywhere for that matter. And why not? Because the market is being flooded by imported produce. Yes, while consumers munch on foreign fruit and swill Asian apple juice Canadian farmers are going bankrupt. This concept is so ridiculous it is hard to believe. Why would I need an apple from the other side of the world when I can get fresh fruit from a farmer less than 100 km away? Crazy. Sad. Infuriating.

The Bucket List

Last night my hubby and I watched the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman movie The Bucket List. If you haven't seen it, the story is about two terminally ill men who become friends and vow to complete a list of must do things before they "kick the bucket."

While this movie plays on the old cliche "live everyday like it was your last" it really struck a nerve for me. It brought memories of my mother flooding back. The two characters in this story have the ablility and means to travel the world completing their inventory of dying wishes. My mother never had their fortunate opportunity. She was admitted to the hospital and did not leave again, her "bucket list" never even a possibility. What is so heartbreaking is that the only item on her list was simply to "go home."

So now that I've depressed you, there is a point to my post. And it is that cliche. And maybe it takes a mediocre Hollywood production to drive it home, but life is short. Opportunities are often limited so ...
take that leap of faith ...
dance like nobody's watching ...
remember it's not the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away ... Take your pick.
Live life to it's fullest and in the immortal words of Miss Frizzle,
"Take chances, make mistakes, get messy."

Now, go make that bucket list! (by starting this blog I've already begun working on mine)

Movie Review - Disney-Pixar's WALL.E

This afternoon my hubby, mother-in-law and I braved the wilds of a Saturday matinee to introduce our three year old to the big screen. We were also in the company of our five year old who was very excited to be seeing the newest Disney-PIXAR release WALL.E . She was not disappointed.

WALL.E is the story of a lonely robot, the last of his kind, left to toil on an abandoned, garbage-strewn earth. One day our leading man, er machine, encounters a feminine robot probe who has been sent to Earth in search of any signs of regenerating life. WALL.E, from hundreds of years of function and innumerable viewings of the classic film Hello Dolly has developed not only personality, but feelings and quickly falls in love with the beguiling EVE (Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator). When EVE is retrieved to her mother ship a distraught WALL.E pursues. Through his quest to follow his love WALL.E becomes an unlikely hero who unwittlingly saves not only the environmentally ravaged planet Earth, but the essence of the human race.

In keeping with true PIXAR style, the animation and creativity of this film is incredible. It is not only a feast for the eyes, but the imagination. Much of the movie is void of dialogue, as the robots interact, but the viewer always hears the message.

This film also carries a strong commentary on our planet's environmental crisis and the devestating effect humans have and could bring to the Earth. It is also a sobering glimpse at what human kind may become as hundreds of years of subgravity and sedintary existence has rendered us into blubbery baby-like beings virtually incapable of independent movement or thought. This message maybe lost on the younger viewers in the audience, but it definitely wasn't with the grown-ups. It was a sobering image.

While our youngest was only able to make it through about two-thirds of the film, it was no reflection on the movie (only an overly-stimulated three year old attention span). Our five year old loved the film, as did I (unfortunately my hubby missed the ending as he was entertaining aforementioned three year old in the parking lot). We are already looking forward to family movie night when WALL.E is released on DVD. A must see!

Our baby's all grown up! (sniff)

Well today it will be official (at least in her mind). Our five year old will become a "big kid". Today she will cross over that momentous threshold from kindergarten into grade one. No longer allocated to the front of the bus. No longer segregated to "little kid" part of the playground. Personally I'm not quite as enthusiastic about her new status. It makes me a little emotional and melancholic, my little peanut no longer a baby ... Yet as I see her rolling off on the bus for the last time as a kindergartener, beaming from ear to ear, how can I not share in her joy and pride. (sniff)

"The hills are alive ... "

I love musical theatre! There, I've said it loud & proud (my brother-in-law is now cringing, though I wouldn't smirk too much Mr. I-auditioned-once-as-Tigger for a Disney musical production!)

I suppose this passion started as a young child after watching The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz every year on television. It grew when my grandmother took my sister and me to see Annie at the Centre In the Square in Kitchener. My first professional theatre experience! In high school I helped with costumes for a couple of drama club productions and actually performed as "the bartender" and one of a "trio of fans" in Bye Bye Birdie. Later, when I moved to Toronto and then Ottawa there were many opportunities to indulge my love for theatre.

This devotion was shared and probably nurtured by my mother. On many occasions she would travel to Toronto or Ottawa and join me in the audience ... Cats, Joseph, Rent, Singing In The Rain (it actually rained on stage as the actors merrily splashed along in the puddles!) ... These are some of my favorite memories of time spent with my mom. I used to delight in the story of how, as a young woman, she orchestrated an excursion to New York City with my grandmother to hit the famed theatres of Broadway. I still have several of her old Broadway record albums.

After I moved back home from the city I still managed to see at least one production a year. Our local rec department has an annual bus trip to Toronto to take in a matinee performance of one of the city's latest musicals. Every year my mother would accompany me on this fall pilgrimage. It was our special mother-daughter time. We saw Mamma Mia!, Hairspray, Wicked ... My sister joined us for the Wicked trip and we will always be thankful that she did. Mom passed away the following spring. This past fall when I boarded the bus for Dirty Dancing my sister accompanied me again, but this time the trip felt somewhat lonelier.

My oldest daughter seems to have inherited her grandmother's passion for musical theatre. She too has repeatedly watched The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz (on DVD purchased for her by her grandmother). She dances along to Hairspray and High School Musical.

This year I am hopeful that it will once again a happy trio heading to the bright lights of the big city. My daughter, who will be six, may be joining us. Starting in October Mirvish Productions will be staging a revival of The Sound of Music. While it has not been confirmed, I think this will be the musical that the rec department will choose for the theatre trip.

To psych ourselves up for our autumn date we are currently engrossed in the CBC reality show How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria. A panel of expert judges have whittled down thousands of Maria hopefuls to a group of ten finalists. The winner will be cast as Maria in the Toronto production. So Sunday nights we cheer for our favorite Marias and then vote, vote, vote. This has become our mother-daughter time. I hope it gives my girl the gift of special memories that my mother gave to me.

Sound Judge-ment?

This story falls into the category of "you've got to be kidding me!" It begins with me wanting to ask what Quebec Superior Court Judge Madam Justice Suzanne Tessier is smoking, but that would be defamatory, so I'll refrain. But at the very least one has to ask what the hell she was thinking?!

Here's the scenario. A twelve year old girl lives with her father and step-mother (they have legal custody). The girl is repeatedly reprimanded for posting pictures on an internet dating site. She is banned from the computer. The girl goes to a friend's house and to post pictures . She is caught and grounded. The punishment includes being forbidden to attend a class trip to Quebec City. The girl relocates to her mother's home. The mom gives her permission to travel with the class, however the school requires both parent's consent for the trip. So what's a girl to do? Why take your father to court of course.

So far this story isn't that hard to believe, at least up to the court part. Where it becomes bizarre is with the judge's verdict. She ruled in the child's favour! (you can read about it here or here). The judge determined that the punishment was too severe and that it shouldn't stand because the girl was no longer living with the father (even though he has legal custody).

As a parent I am shocked with this judge's decision. If the father had been abusive or had the girl locked in her room with only bread and water then I could see the logic. But the punishment was refusal to allow the daughter to participate in a trip. Apparently she had been repeatedly reprimanded and warned yet she continued to partake in the forbidden behaviour. So my question to the judge is when did it become excessive to remove a child's priviledge's for bad behaviour?

The judge has not only stripped this man of any authority he has over his daughter, but she has reinforced this girl's blatant disrespect for him. It also sends a terrible message to other young people. Don't like a punishment your parents have doled out? No problem, just take 'em to court.

Despite the fact that the field trip has now come and gone, the press reports that the father intends on pursuing an appeal of this decision. He says it's the only way he can regain his authority over the child. Unfortunately I think, thanks to Ms. Tessier, it's way too late.

Noun 1. writer's block - an inability to write;

"She had writer's block; the words wouldn't come"
Yup, that would just about sum it up.
So here it is. My "writing blog", the place where I'm going to sit myself at the computer and make those fingers tippity tap on the keyboard until something worthy scrolls across my screen (insert snort here). Ok, the concept was good in theory. Unfortunately the monkey that has been sitting on my back for several years has not decided to shift his furry little backside just because I've resolved to be "serious."

And now the pressure is on. I've announced my blog. Heck I've invited readers of my family blog to "come on over" and take a read. The hit counter is already registering in the 50's (although you can probably take off 20 from me playing with the formatting) and I've only had this site active for two days. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining that people are coming here. I think writing on a regular basis in a blog that no one is reading would be somewhat akin to talking to yourself. Eventually I would probably start commenting on my own posts and that would be just weird. I actually encountered that once on someones page. It was as if they had an alter ego and they would make snarky shots at people who happened to make the mistake of leaving a comment. It was disturbing, kind of like a virtual ventriloquist's dummy making smart remarks. I will try to refrain ... which reminds me, I've forgotten to play with my blog settings.

Ok, well I'm off to procrastinate, er organize the site a little more. Hopefully tomorrow I'll come up with a really clever topic, or the next day ...

Welcome!

Welcome to my new blog! I've decided I need to start working on something dedicated to me. Well, not me, but rather things that interest me. I want to start trying to stretch my writing muscle again. Topics may range from serious to frivolous. I might discuss books, recipes, health, politics, being a mom ... although I won't discuss my family in more than general terms. I have another venue for that (some of you know where that is ...) and that is where I would like to keep them since they do deserve their privacy.

Hope you find something that interests you here.
Thanks for joining me! Tracey