NaBloPoMo

I did it! YAY me!

November 29th

And this month is coming to an end. I've failed miserably on the book front, but don't fear it's mostly 'cause I don't respond well to pressure, the kind where I am being demanded of something, like the man. Down with the man! Okay, see it's the pressure, it's getting to me.
So the reason for all of the You Tubey stuff lately? I'm a You Tube lover, oh yes, I love nothing more than to watch someone make an utter fool of themselves, we can say it's a past time. (It's the real reason we have a mirror on the ceiling.*) Also it's an easy post, so I can get something posted, and be considered a "winner", ie, posting every day. 'Cause you know what I love as much as watching someone make a fool of themselves? I love to win. Oh yes. Winning is good. Losing sucks.
on to other issues.
Yesterday was November 28th, exactly 2 months after I turned 29, and exactly 10 months until I turn 30. THIRTY! That's crazy! I don't look a day over 23, (I hope.) Yesterday had another significance, but it's a mournful one, although 10 months to the big three oh, is too, but on a much more shallow note.
On the pet front, Chachi has been behaving oddly. He has started to bark a wee bit, but only when a doorbell chimes on TV. Oh we don't have a door bell. I have no clue where he's ever heard one, but it's irritating. Also there's this Christmas commercial where the song is all in doorbells, so I am personally boycotting Ferrerio Roches this year. However if you want to buy them for me, I will eat them. Beyond his barking and his occasional other irritating habits, he's getting cold. I need to buy him clothes, which amuses me, but Adam thinks is stupid. My argument wins though, we can't have Sir Poops A Lot freezing! Bonsai's been a little odd lately too. When we got the dog Bonsai lost all faith in me and started his hate on for me. He wouldn't have anything to do with me, unless I was giving him some kind of yummy morsel, or kitty pot. But now? He loves me, has to be sitting on me all the time, resulting in large drool spots all over me. Chachi hates this new arrangement. As far as he's concerned he is the lap pet and no one else dare sit on the lap of the lovin'! Chachi would like to school Bonsai in this, but Bonsai just gives him the Look of Scorn. I think it says, "Stupid animal, I outweigh you by at least 10 lbs! I've eaten mice bigger than you! You live and breathe by my generosity alone!" Chachi generally backs down after the Look of Scorn.
Today I got a comment from Regan, HI REGAN! I tried to leave a comment on your blog, but you have to sign in, so I signed up. Anyhow hi, I meant to email you a long time ago, but I lost your email address and kept hoping that you would be at the gym the same time I would be.
So that concludes my post for November 29th, stay tuned for an update tomorrow on my total failure of nanowrimo, but the ongoing drive to be a real author.

Happy Baby

Argh.

I don't want to wallow, but I'm mired in this pit of ugh. I am trying hard to write to get my 50000 words, but it's hard, hard, hard! I don't know if I'll make it, and it kills me. I will finish it all, the whole story will be closer to 100K words, but the pressure to get it done is killing me. I have managed to keep up with the blog end of it though, but just barely.

The marathon thing is falling apart. My shins are so bad that I don't think I can do it. I don't want to really damage them, but on the other hand, I want to like running. Currently I hate it, with the passion of a million bigots. (I love that metaphor) I think if it didn't hurt I could like it. I really want to get to that place where it's just easy. I've reached that place plenty when I do cardio at a gym on something non-jarring, but not with running, I just curse the world and mostly gravity. DAMN NEWTON!

I do have an exciting new project I am working on. A friend of mine and I are collaborating on a series of children's books, which lean to the educational side of things. The series will follow a child into adulthood discussing money type issues. I feel that I actually have the knowledge to write this, and my friend who's doing it with me has a lot of knowledge especially regarding investments. When I was a banker I tended to be more of an educator, I had no issues clearing my schedule to sit with a student and talk about various student loan plans and issues. (This was a common conversation with students, I would generally direct them to a government student loan rather than a bank one, because the government can help you a lot more after you graduate than a bank can.) Anyhow I am quite excited about the whole project. We do need to find an illustrator, so if anyone is one, email me!

Anyhow I think the funk I am in is all hormones. Dudes and dudettes, if the pill can do this, what's gonna happen when I hit the Clomid? Stay tuned for irrational rants by a crazed hormonal woman trying to get pregnant.

Conversation

"I wish you would help with the chores."
"Give me a blow job."
"I will not give you a blow job to take out the garbage!"
"Well it was worth a try."

Screwed by Bush....

Oh Christmas Tree

Adam and I bought our Christmas Tree today and put it up. The box says that it's 4', but it's about 3.5', it's pre lit and kinda cute. AND the whole thing, you know, tree and decorations, were only $21!
So to commemorate this all I wrote a song, sing it to the tune of Oh Christmas Tree.

Oh Christmas Tree
Oh Christmas Tree
You are so pretty and sparkley
You are sitting on the cat castle
'Cause right there it's no pet hassle
Oh Christmas Tree
Oh Christmas Tree
Nor. Cal is warm and quite snow free
It's not like Christmas time at home
'Cause down here the snow is foam
Oh Christmas Tree
Oh Christmas Tree
You are so pretty and sparkly.


I hope you like it. I will post some tree pictures when Adam is done playing with the Burger King video games.

Let the season begin.

FYI, that's Sporty Spice!

Two Fathers.

I thought this was really cute.



I don't want to be making some political statement, but I just don't understand why people care how others choose to live their lives. But alas, we live in a crazy world, where a couple can be ostracize for not being "normal". sigh....

My Survivor Crush.

I can't help that I love to watch Survivor. The whole game has changed in the countless seasons we've been subjected to the hairy wonders that emerge on the small screen. Then every season I proclaim a favorite, which often changes, I'm a sucker for the underdog, but this year, I've had a big Survivor crush on Yul. Tonight he mangaged to sway the game to his "team's" favour, thereby showing the others that there were correct to be all scared of him.

OK so I just read his bio, and he lives near here, creepy!

Thanksgiving in the US of A

Today I make the rookie mistake of grocery shopping on the day before Thanksgiving. Safeway was a MADHOUSE! I would suggest that no one should shop on the day before Thanksgiving.
So onto other things, ie food. Adam and I are going to have Gnocci, yummy, and I am going to make a Pumpkin pie (because Safeway was all sold out of them, thereby forcing me to be Betty Crocker.) One of the hounorees for my Team in Training Group is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for any of us who want to go, but I somehow didn't get this week's mass email so I could RSVP. Which is all fine and good, I am sure that we wouldn't have gone anyhow, Adam has all of these plans for us for his extra long weekend (Americans get Thursday and Friday off, NICE!). I am wowed by how generous the family that is hosting the massive dinner is. Oh and an honouree is someone who has suffered or is suffering from leukemia or any of the other blood cancers, they are there to motivate us, and to keep the cause fresh in our mind. Yesterday one of the other honourees who was at our practice was a sweet 9 year old girl. She sat on a blanked on the grass and watched us run the whole time, and didn't complain about the cold. Her mom was one of the people who I was in an informal group with.
I digress.
Thanksgiving in America, it's weird (for me), I feel the pressure for Christmas already and the pressure of Thanksgiving, it's a wee bit stressful, I think I like the Canadian option better, I think it's more nicely spaced.

Anyhow, Happy Turkey Day everyone.

The One Where I Discuss Being a Fat Girl Who Is Going To Run A Marathon

Tonight we had another Team in Training, uh, training. It was interesting. There was a lot of running mixed with different skill things, like skipping, grape vining and such. Afterwards we had a workshop for women. It was a chance for us to ask questions relating to women's issues and running a marathon. For example, always carry extra tampons, and when running at night, never run alone, ya know the standard stuff. I had questions like, where is a good place to buy a decent sports bra around here? Can I still strength train the way I am now? Then when pregnancy was brought up, I stumbled asking what would happen. All in all I felt like a total idiot. They know I have played sports before, and I would like to think that I am athletic enough to do this, but training for rugby is so different than training for a marathon. I know you are thinking, duh! But I am used to training in a way that I have always trained, to get as strong as I can, and get my cardio as good as I can. Now having super massive thighs can be a bit of a detriment, (not that they are super massive yet, ie as in really strong, but I'm doing well-ish) I have to lift weights differently, and even run differently. I have always run on my toes, leaning forward somewhat, because when I would run in rugby it was more of a hard run, sprint if you will. Now I have to be able to really settle into a run, and hold that pace. I need to be able to land on my foot neutrally, and not use my upper body as much. On the other hand, from training the way I have been, in the past for rugby, I have taught myself how to recover quickly, which is helping me now.
Also when we all signed up they said that anyone can do this, like people straight off of a couch, with the imprint of the remote still in their hand. So yeah, no one is straight off of the couch, a lot of them have already run a marathon, and a lot of them are really fit and have no issues with it. Then there is me, I am so slow, I keep running, but I am so slow. It was nice today a couple of the mentors ran with me and the other really slow ones, and kept encouraging us, which was so nice and made it not as painful.
Now on a positive note, when we had to do a hard run, like at 80%ish of a sprint, I could do it and I didn't die, and I was able to recover in the proper distance. Then I did it again. I was proud of myself. However when we had to do another lap, my shins were going to explode. They were so sore that walking was hard, but they are better now, I do have exercises for them and I'm doing them. I've iced them tonight and they feel better. And the hard part, I'm resisting the urge to have a hot bath, goodness knows I love the hot baths.
Well, long story short. Fat girls aren't meant to run marathons, but I am too bloody stubborn to quit, 'cause then I would really be that fat girl. I will, however, keep complaining, and hopefully in the weeks leading to my Feb 15th or 14th run (I can't remember) it'll get easier. If not, the 13.1* miles might kill me.

*I like to say marathon, but it's a half marathon, a full 26.2 miles would kill me, I am sure of it.

Save the Cashier, Save your Sanity.

(I really need to watch this show.)
Anyhow my post yesterday was sparked by a trip to Fry's (a local geek superstore). The lady at the cashier next to me was having a melt down because her card was declined. She demanded that the poor guy try it again, and when it was declined again, she went on and on how it's impossible that it was declined, she had just made a purchase. So she rummages in her wallet and throws another card at him, THROWS! He picked it up off of the counter, without giving her any attitude back and tells her that it was also declined. She immediately reaches a whole new level of bitchdom, telling him that his system is broken and that she made "a payment of over a hundred bucks, so it should work!" He tried again, and again declined, this time he turns a light on above his station, likely to call for a manager. At this time I mumble to Adam that some people are so rude, which I think she heard because I was the recipient of a venomous glare. I so wanted to step in and save the poor guy, but I think she would have freaked more. Anyhow she went on telling him that "there is no way that this card should be declined, I just put 150 bucks on it and this is only fifty bucks!" By this time our stuff was all bagged and we were bustin' out of there, trying to avoid the bad karma she was exuding.
It made me so angry, it wasn't that poor cashier's fault. sigh...
Lisa, over at Random Outlaw tells a story similar, yet different. Go and check her out, and say hi, she's cool ya know!

Public Service Announcement- Credit Cards

Dear Shoppers.
When you are making a purchase and your credit card doesn't work, even though you claim to have used it already that day, there could be several reasons:
1) You credit card company has flagged it because of suspicious activity. Most likey they are doing this to protect you from potential fraud. This is a good thing, don't get angry at the poor cashier, phone your credit card company.
2) Although you have made a recent payment it may not have been applied to your card yet. If it has been more than a couple business days, call your credit card company, perhaps the payment was mis-directed. If you paid it the previous day, or the day before and you didn't call them to let them know so they could (possibly) apply it to your account, then you need to use another method of payment. (on a side note you should try not to be in the top 25% of your limit, it affects your credit rating.) Please don't get mad at the cashier, it's not their fault.
3) You are overlimit. There could be several reasons for this; you are over your limit because you have spent it all, and you haven't made a payment. You need to make one. Or you have charges pending, and they've posted. This is a little confusing and it's a pain in the butt to explain, but I'll try. For example when you pay at the pump for gas your card is authorized for say, $100 (this may or may not vary) this authorized amount then takes up $100 of room on your card. Then you pump your gas and it comes to $50, which is charged to your account, but the original $100 is still pending, so the whole transaction has taken $150 of space on your card. However, depending on how the books are done at a place, or how quickly everything is balanced later, they $100 pending could be removed right away, or up to 10 days later. If this is the case and you have pending charges, call your credit card company and they can search your pending charges and your posted charges and see if any match, then they might be able to remove the pending ones, thereby freeing up some room. In any case, don't get mad at the cashier. Also this is a good reason to not use the top 25% of your limit, then you always have some breathing room.
4) You are 2 months overdue and your card has been suspended. Make a payment. And as always, don't get mad at the cashier.
5) Your card is expired, you may or may not have a new one, which you should activate, if you don't have one, call your credit card company. Don't get mad at the cashier.
6) You haven't used your card in a while and it's been blocked, for your protection. Call your credit card company, they may be able to re-activate it. Oh yeah, don't get mad at the cashier.
7) The credit card companies systems are down. Call them to see what's up, use a different method of payment, and don't get mad at the cashier.
8) The store's systems are down, don't get mad at the cashier.
9) The cashier has made a mistake. Breathe, try again, and don't get mad at the cashier.
10) Your magnetic strip is de-magnetized, you need a new card, call your credit card company, and pay with a different method. If this happens make sure that there is no magnets in your wallet/ purse. Store your cards alternating, ie one up and one down so that the magnetic strips aren't touching. Or get a anti-static sleeve for your card. (according to myth busters, cards don't de-magnitze easily) Oh, don't get mad at the cashier.
11) Your card is old and worn out. You need another method of payment, and don't get mad at the cashier.

So you can see that there are several reasons why a credit card may not be working, many of these reasons aren't your fault. Don't be embarrassed, the cashier sees this a lot and don't think that you are poor. There is no reason for you to go into a tirade and tell the cashier, in detail, your payment history, this is none of their business, and there isn't anything they can do. Think of the cashier as the messenger, don't kill him/ her, it's likey not their fault.

Love,
TweedleDea.

PS. I worked for a credit card company in Canada, and this is true for that company, they may or may not be industry standards. But the underlying theme is the same, there are many things that can happen to a credit card, but don't get mad at the cashier!

Do Run Run Run, Do Run Run.

This running thing? It's gettin' hard, yo! Well not so much on the gettin' as on the already hard, hella hard.
Adam and I went for a run today, 'cause I can't made the regional one tomorrow, (we're going to the 49ers v Seattle, watch for me as I streak across the field) anyhow it was a bad bad run. I have managed to get nasty shin splints, which leave my legs from my ankles to my knees rock hard and throbbing, then numb. (Get your mind outta the gutter, yo!) So rather than quit and give up, which would be so easy right now, we went and bought me new shoes, so I guess I can't quit now. My new ones are all pretty, and glow in the dark white. I didn't want the uber white ones, 'cause nothing says new runner louder than white shoes and an abundant butt. I also bought a couple new sports bras because the ones I wore in uni have lost their support, and the sisters need to stay close to my heart.

So trying on sports bras, especially if you actually need them, is hell! The ones with high support are evil, you need to be Houdini to get into them, and double jointed to get them off. I would *almost* rather try on too-tight jeans than these sports bras. I did find a lovely one that was so comfortable, but I should have guessed it would offer no support, it was too easy to put on. So we left the store with a nice new pair of shoes, and 2 new bras. Oh yeah, and the bras that support, tres moolah. Damn me and my perfect natural voluptuous breasts. Damn them to hell!

On Monday with my new shoes and my new bra I will run, and try not to cry from the pain in my calves. Also in case you might know about such things, I am doing exercises for my shins. The toe liftey kind, then the heel lifty kind to balance our my calves, which I don't care if they are balanced, they are so effin' huge (and solid I might add) that they will never be dainty and nice, so let them be massive and bulky. Also I will ice them after a killer run, or after I run at all. The coaches suggest that we sit in an ice bath for at least 10 minutes. I think at this time I will resort to ice packs.

Well my lovlies, I am going to eat ice cream, but not chocolate because I still have no interest in it. Damn hormones, damn them to hell with my boobs in tow!

Blogging vs Journaling

The Grudge Match.

(Oh I couldn't resist.)

On blogging and journaling. I was talking to one of the ladies in one of my writing classes and mentioned blogging to her, she says that she can't because she doesn't have time, which is valid. She also mentioned that she journals. So I started thinking about when I have journaled, versus me blogging now.

When I was in Korea I journaled a lot, I found it to be relaxing when my emotions were high. Also interestingly enough I always wrote cursive, in everyday life I print, but when I journal it's cursive. I think along with the emotional vomit onto the page, the act of writing calmed me. And yet now I have this scary black cloud over me, and I'm not journaling, but I am blogging, but I don't really write about it, rather I write superfluous stuff, which amuses me, but isn’t always me, at my core. However I am okay with my life, I think that having Adam helps, so I don't need to cry over my journal, instead I throw something at him*. I find that relaxing, and if he complains, I remind him that my uterus is all wonky.

I have also realized that there are a lot of benefits to blogging over journaling, like, hello, I am a total attention junkie. I love knowing that there are people reading my stuff, and that there are complete strangers reading it. It's like an adrenalin rush with out the messy sweat. (Or perhaps I am an exhibitionist; maybe someday I'll show the pictures.)

But really, I think that blogging and journaling are the same, maybe I will be able to pour everything out on here some day, I practically do anyhow. The act of typing has become as cathartic to me as writing, and I am far faster at typing, with is good when you have the emotional vomit.

* I have horrible aim, so it’s okay

Lest We Forget

Here's the piece that I am going to read in my class today. This class is a memoirs class so it's true stuff. I did take some poetic licence, becasue I am not all freaky about memoirs to the point where I tell you that there were exactly 1,493 burrs on the sweater she was wearing when he accepted her award for most obscure resident of the year.


Lest We Forget.

I questioned myself this year why Remembrance Day is so important to me. I know that at eleven o’clock I am to observe a moment of silence, and I do, every year. I’ve realized that for the past few years my thoughts have wandered from reciting the poem “In Flanders Fields” to my opinions of the Iraq war, to a decimated Korean landscape to my grandfather. I spent a lot of time this Remembrance Day thinking of him. I also lamented my lack of a poppy on my lapel. Grampa always made sure that I had one, and after he passed away, I always had a stockpile of them, in his memory, pinned to the ceiling of my car.

My brother and I grew up in a small house my mother bought in a neighbourhood which would be considered a few blocks from my grandparent’s house. But in little leg distance, it was torturous walk, one that was made often, down Turner, past the ball park, carefully along the side of Princeton, watching diligently for cars, between orchards on Vernon and finally onto Mack. Grannie and Grampa would always welcome us and encouraged us to come often. I spent a vast majority of my childhood there, learning to bake, garden, sew, knit and fix my bike.
Often we would start our Remembrance Day at their house. I would wait for my Grampa to come out of his room in his full Legion uniform. I especially loved the metals on his jacket, there were so many of them, and they made me proud. He must have been so important to have them all, I thought to myself as a child. I never learned what each represented, but it never mattered, they made my Grampa a hero.
We would go downtown, my mom, my brother, Grannie, Grampa and I, to the cenotaph where there would be a ceremony. Different groups would walk somberly down the path of the cenotaph to place their wreath with the others. I once placed a wreath; I walked down the path in my Girl Guide uniform, with some of the patches hastily sewn on crooked the night before. I was acutely aware of all of the dignitaries of Peachland watching me, I was nervous. I managed to glace at my Grampa who was standing, so proud in his uniform with the other veterans, he smiled at me a small smile, and I placed the wreath and hurried back to my place with other Guides and Brownies.
I always liked to watch the pretty Miss. Peachland and her Princesses place their wreathes. They were always so fabulously mature and pretty. The year I placed one as one of the contestants I didn’t feel pretty and fabulous, I felt the same nerves as I had five years previous. The ceremony would always finish with a rendition of taps, played by a local trumpet player. Everyone would leave; all of the veterans would retire to the Legion. My mom would take me back to my grandparent’s house, and she would go back to the Legion with my grampa. I don’t know if they reminisced happy memories, or sad ones. I am sure it was a mix of both.

The year that I competed in the Ambassador of Peachland (a revamped Miss. Peachland contest, which allowed boys to compete) I was sponsored by the Peachland Legion. There were two businesses that wanted to sponsor me, my mom’s friend’s insurance company and the Legion. For me there was no debate, my grampa was a retired president of the Legion, so I was Miss. Peachland Legion, branch 69. I wore my sash proudly and on the day of the crowning, I wore it over my formal gown. Near the end of the ceremony each contestant was presented with a gift from their sponsor, who would come from the audience to the stage for the presentation. When it was my turn to receive my gift, I expected the current president to come up, but instead I watched Grampa rise and make his way to the front of the gym. He was in his Legion uniform, and although weakened from the cancer that he had just been diagnosed with, he walked proudly up the stairs to the stage. I knew I was supposed to stay seated and rise when he got to the top, but I couldn’t. I jumped up and rushed down the stairs and met him half way. It was there he presented me with my gift, a gold identification bracelet. The gym was crowded and there were news crews from up and down the valley to document the coronation of the first Mr. Peachland, and I cried in front of all of them. I cried for the pain I knew he was in. I cried for his bravery to come on that night. I cried because I was so happy that he did, and I cried because I was so nervous and I wanted to win.
Everyone who was a Peachlander knew that it was my Grampa and understood why I was crying, but the Emcee was kind enough to explain it to the crowd, which was also comprised of other royalty and journalists. I didn’t win that night, but I was awarded most improved contestant. Later that evening I learned that I made half of the people in the room cry, moving them to tears as I raced down the stairs and enveloped him in a hug.
Grampa and I didn’t make it to the Remembrance Day ceremonies that year, he was too sick, and by then I was staying with him, taking care of him since my Grannie was also sick and in the hospital. I don’t remember which day it was that I called the ambulance, but I can’t seem to forget November 28, 1994, only two months after I turned 17.

In the years between then and now I have made it to a couple more Remembrance Day ceremonies downtown Peachland, always wearing a poppy, always standing somber. The precession from the Legion dwindled as they marched from the branch, which is directly down the street perpendicular to the cenotaph. I would see my Grampa amongst them; he’s in their pride, their stoicism and in their memories. The years that I wasn’t able to make it to Peachland I still wore a poppy, even in Korea. But this year I didn’t, I was distracted with my new projects and pursuits of great grandchildren. I did take a moment to remember him, and the lessons he taught me. So even though I mostly remember him, I will remember the other wars, and those who fought and fight in them.

ok so now what do you think?

25,192 words

As of right now, which means I am where I need to be. Except, really today is tomorrow, so I need to be at 26,666. But I need sleep and I have been typing for 5 hours. But yay, I'm caught up.
Now I need to get caught up in my training for the marathon.
Oi.
Tomorrow, or today, however you look at it, I get to run 3-5 miles. For my lovely Canucks, 3 miles is 5kms, which is doable, and get this, I've convinced Adam to run with me.
Yes you can shake your head in disbelief, but this is the same Adam that gets up early every morning too, and eats his veggies.

Ok I must sleep.

Purple Thursday.

Everyone knows that I have to be a writing fool this month, and I am mostly making it work, and still writing fresh stuff for my writing classes. Anyhow as a minor cop out and just so you can see that I can edit stuff, here is what I read in my class today, I wrote it last night, along with the piece that I am going to read in my other class tomorrow, I'll post it there. Now just a wee little bit from Paranoid Deadra to start. Please don't plagerize me, it will make me really mad, and I will have to go all hog wild on your ass....

Purple Thursday.

Today is Thursday, so today, her favourite colour is purple. Routines are very important to Jean, she follows hers meticulously, taking pride in how orderly her life has become. She is so diligent with her routine that if you were to compare two days on film you could see just how closely she follows her ‘dailies’.

Jean wakes up at exactly eight fifty every morning; this ensures that she is able to listen to Donovan Smith on the radio. When her alarm goes off she reaches over to turn off the buzzer and turn on the radio. Then she lies in bed, with the covers up to her chest and her arms laid out over them, after she smoothes them all. She likes to pretend this is how she will look in her coffin, serene and well rested.

“Good morning Prince George!” Donovan wails from the radio, greeting his listeners with his trade mark greeting, an imitation of Robin Williams in Good Morning Vietnam.

“Good morning Mr. Smith,” Jean titters, ever impressed with his exuberance at nine A.M.

“Today we are going to talk to Premier Gordon Campbell. We are going to talk about the importance of the lumber industry to Prince George and how we can make sure there will still be forests for our children and grandchildren.”

“Mr. Smith you have friends in such high places!” Jean exclaims as she slides out from under her covers. She is wearing a long blue nightie, with a high buttoned collar and ruffles at her cuffs. She stuffs her small, heavily veined feet into her white slippers and shuffles into her closet. Hearing the music start Jean is inspired to take long gliding strides as she dances with an imaginary man to the swing music that Donovan has programmed for her listening pleasure. Gently twirling herself past a well organized rod of clothing she fingers various articles as she flits past them, humming along to the music in the other room. She gracefully ends her dance at the purple section of her closet and walks her fingers along the hangers, choosing her cardigan, slacks and blouse. Jean is proud of her closet. It’s taken her years to get seven neatly organized sections. With her selections Jean shuffles back to her bed, having lost the grace of the dance. She still fingers some cardigans as she passes them, delighting in their textures.

After dressing Jean continues with her routine, to the bathroom to make herself presentable. She doesn’t wear much make up, choosing not to look trampy like young ladies do now, as she used to say. She opts to wear a little blush, to give herself the rosy look of a young girl in love, and some chap stick. Jean gathers her long white hair into a braid and coils it around her head, pinning it in place. Next she follows a worn path in the carpet to her kitchen, where she opens a cupboard and pulls her Thursday cereal down. After pouring herself a bowl of Raisin Bran she puts the box away, between Wednesday’s All Bran and Friday’s Froot Loops. Jean knows that she should eat a healthy cereal everyday, but she likes her Friday sugar cereal, it’s the only one that rotates, last time it was Cocoa Puffs.

Jean tidies as she makes her breakfast, intent on maintaining a spotless house. She places her cereal, toast and tea on a tray, and makes her way to her living room, to sit in her favourite spot on the sofa, with her tray on an oak T.V. table, and clicks on Canada AM on CTV. Jean likes to be up to date on her current events; she won’t let her mind get slow and soft.


About three years ago Jean slipped and fell; it was January 27th, 2004. She was stepping out her front door when she slipped on some ice that not been cleared properly. She had laid in her entrance way for three hours, until the mail man discovered her. Jean was rushed to the hospital, suffering from hypothermia and a severe concussion. Her prognosis was dim; her family was told to prepare themselves, and to expect the worse. Plans were hastily made and they waited. But, Jean never died; instead she hangs on in a vegetative state. She lives in a home now, where she has around the clock medical support. Her family visits her occasionally, a demotion from frequently.

We know though, that Jean lives on. Today is Thursday, and today she wears purple.


So what do you think???

The Pill

Ack the Pill is a better title I think. So my RE put me on the Pill. Yes, I'm trying to get pregnant, but he put me on the Pill. Also for the record I've never been on it. I always figured unless I'm in a commited relationship I"m gonna use condoms, so what's the point? And hey I was right! So now that I'm on it, I feel weird. I have no appetite at all, which sucks because I am about to go to the gym and I know I havne't eaten enough. I made chocolate cake the other day (Adam asked for one) and I had no desire to eat any. None! And it is chocolate! It's strange what these hormones are doing to me.

So since we are talking about the Pill, I have a funny story.

Long long ago when I lived in Calgary before I met Adam I was spending a lot of time with this guy, whose name I won't use. I don't know how to describe our relationship, but it was more than hand holding. Anyhow this guy worked at a gym and got me a killer deal on a membership there. So when he was asking me about medications on the new client questionairre I answered none. Without missing a beat, he says, "expect the pill right?". To which I reply, "nope." He jerks his head up from what he was writing and looks at me with a look of complete shock. I just just hear the wheels in his head turning, as he put 2 and 2 together. It was very amusing. He didn't dwell on it, since by that time we were only friends and it had become a non-issue.

But the look on his face, was priceless. Boys you've gotta ask, don't just assume....

Leukemia and Lymphoma

I've mentioned that I am training for a marathon. So here's the nitty gritty. I am traiaing with Team in Training, which is a fundraising arm of the Leukemia and Lymphoma foundation. I will be running in the Kaiser half marathon in Feburary, and I get to fundraise $1800 to do so. I do have a website that I will link to, but I just wanted to give a general "this is what I'm doing, be prepared for more details".

I am trying really hard to like running, but I still don't like it. Our coaches mentioned that the first mile always sucks and then you settle into the run in mile 2... mine comes late... rar. into my 3rd mile I start to settle down and not feel like pulling my hair out. Hopefully I'll achieve the zen moment running soon!

So that's the low down on me right now. Oh and if you care 13.1 miles is a half marathon, which is 22 kms.

I might die.

More Rememberance Day.

I wonder why I am so determined to observe Rememberance Day. To me it reminds me of my Grandpa, like I said, then I was thinking if in my mind it's just George Walsh Day. So I wondered if I was a fraud. And I came to the conclusion that I'm not. While I do think of my grandfather on R-Day, I do think of what the wars accomplished and I am thankful, and I do think of the young men and women who gave their lives. I'll also admit that I think more of the World Wars than some of the more contemporary wars. That I am sure is a result of my Grandpa and the stories he told me.
Long story shortened. I remember my Grandpa, I remember the men and women he fought with to establish what we have now. I remember the others who fought after him who maintained it.

I will remember them.

In Flanders Fields.

This has to be one of favorite poems. My Grandpa taught it me, and with the poppy, it holds special meaning to me, a link to my grandfather, if you will. I memorized it sometime in highschool and I still know it well.*

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

*along with passages from Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet and MacBeth. I was such a geek!

Post #200

Wow, I can't believe I have rambled on 200 times. Yay me! Here's to 200 more!

Remembrance Day*/ Veterans Day

It's Remembrance Day tomorrow. Or Veterans Day here I guess. It's strange for me that there are no poppies here, to me they have such significance that it's awkward for me to not have one on my jacket. Although it's not jacket weather anyhow. So I wonder how do you acknowledge tomorrow respectfully? Happy Remembrance Day? It's not a particularly happy day, but it's an important day. It bothers me that so many people don't care and that so many work places disregard it. I know some people that get to choose, boxing day or today. They choose boxing day. Hmmm now that's some kind of bizarre pagan belief! Sheesh. Anyhow kidding aside I think today is important... it should be observed. I quit a job once because it wasn't.... (imagine the fuzziness setting in for a flash back...)
It's 2003, I'm working at a large telecommunications company in their warehouse and hating every minute of it. I don't like the company then and I still don't now. I don't know if I would get into trouble for saying their name. Think big Canadian company rhymes with melus.
So Remembrance Day was coming and I asked if we were going to get the day off and I was told "no". They (melus) believes that since they are so multicultural and not all cultures observe R-Day that they wouldn't give it off, instead opting to give multicultural day off. WOW!!! I was livid. I spoke to my direct supervisor and I told I thought that was crap, he agreed (he was a great guy!) but Melus is huge and there isn't much we could say. So I quit right before the day. My reasoning. I think that Canada is great. I am exceedingly proud to be Canadian and I love that people from other cultures want to come and live here, and I want them to. I think part of what makes Canada so great is the mix of cultures that we have. BUT there is a reason that Canada is such a wonderful country first. Someone worked hard for it to be wonderful. By someone I mean the peacekeepers. My grandpa was in WW2 and contributed to Canada's inevitable staus of a desirable country. We need to HONOUR him and the other peacekeepers, present and past. It's great that we can have a multicultural day to celebrate, but we need to remember why we have the ability to be multicultural, and what makes us desirable to perpetuate our multicultural-ness. For this reason we should observe Remembrance Day, and for this reason I will observe a moment of silence tomorrow at 11am, I hope you do too.


*this is a post from an old blog I have, I have changed it and edited it some, but this is something I believe strongly in, and I think it bears repeating.

Miscellany

Today was a strange day. I wanted to avoid giving recaps of my day, because that is tantamount to telling you what I had for lunch. But today was a strange day.
I started out climbing with my friend Lauren, which is always fun. Lauren is a super athletic person, and I am happy that I get to do athletic stuff with her. She challenges me, and it's great. Especially today, I managed to climb something that I haven't been able to do in the past, and it wasn't that difficult for me, so yay physical prowess... well at least making it to the top of one of the superhigh walls.
Then this afternoon we saw a Reproductive Endocrinologist. And it's official I'm fertility challenged. More so than I expected. That sucks so bad. Like I told Adam, I hate that I can't just get pregnant with the hate of a million evil bigots.
Finally I went for a run tonight, since I am training to run a marathon* and it was a relatively easy run. Just last week I kind of struggled with it.
So that was my strange day, a bitter truth sandwiched between perseverance and success.
*I'm running for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society... I will explain more, likey on Sunday.

LD Miller.

This kid is a musical genius.

Political Math

Follow me here....
so...
deomocrat = liberal*
republican = conservative**
Deadra > liberal
____________________

Deadra being way left of centre and glad that he democrats "won"

* I mean the liberal and conservative parties of Canada.... I guess they like to call it how it is.
**Evil Stephen Harper Party.

I've arrived!

Onto the blogger scene! I mean I've only posted 195 entries... but yesterday there were 2 people who commented that I don't know! Whoot whoot.
So anyhow,
Lesley, killing is killing and it's wrong. I can't get behind it at all. I know he's done some horrific things, but killing is wrong. Also I have this hunch that he will think of it as a soldier's death and will be all big and brave about it. I doubt that he will be reduced to a sniviling, whining, pleading, man, which is what we would all like to see. I will admit I didn't think of the prospect of him breaking out and being re-instated. I agree that would be bad, and it can't happen. The bloodshed that would result would be unthinkable. Having him hanged would prevent him from breaking out. I am glad that I don't have to make the desicion, but if I did, I would put him somewhere elese, unnamed. I would leave him to whittle toothpicks for the rest of his life. And I wouldn't allow him to pen a book and get a deal from it.
Let me coin a new phrase: Let's rot some humanity into him.

To move on to other more fun topics.
I've been working on my piece for NaNoWriMo, and it's going well as of last night. I skipped Friday and didn't write anything, so by the end of the weekend I was behind on words. I did mostly catch up last night, and to be fully caught up today I need to write 1900 and will be up to date for today to; which is easy, considering I did over 3000 yesterday. It surprises me how much I can write and not realize it. I'm really enjoying it. I'm writing about when I lived in Korea, and it's bringing back memeories, that I didn't realize I had, it's cool. I will be coming to a crossroads soon in it though. While I was there I had befriended someone who stabbed me in the back so horribly that I still cringe when I think about what happened and how it made my life hell. On the other hand becasue of it I was forced to make some friends who I still number amoung my friends today. I don't want to paint her in a bad light, but dudes and dudettes, it was bad. She lied so badly. And she was believed, I could have countered her lies and explained some things that she had said, but I didn't, it would have hurt other people. I doubt that they would have believed me anyhow. The liar would have just denyed it. Anyhow, there is a lot of hurt there, and I don't know about writing it. It was 5 years ago, but it's still raw. I guess a part of me would still like to be friends with her and smooth it all out. sigh. I guess I will just write it how I feel it. I may not need to go into that much detail. However if I am feeling it that strongly, I am sure it will come out in the writing and will make for a better reading experience.

I'm a Hippy

Or is it Hippie? Like maybe our parents were Hippies with a Y and my generation are hippies with an IE.
Anyhow Adam says I'm one because of my post below this one.
What do you think?

Now lets all hold hands.

kumbaiya.... (I don't want to sing the my lord bit, 'casue well... I'm not all goddy and stuff.)

Two Wrongs Make a Right?

I read this article today and I am so upset.

It talks about how Saddam Hussein has been sentanced to death by hanging.

Now while I think what he did was wrong, I don't think he should be killed. I know that he hurt and killed a lot of people, but if he is killed for it, doesn't that make the people who are judging to kill him no worse than him? Also why hanging? Isn't that archaic?

I think it would be better to let him rot in jail. Let him be forgotten and let him live to see how Iraq will recover after him, (and after the stupid war). Let him waste away and have no one care about him. Let him spend his last few days alone in a cell where he can think about his life, and how he has no one in his life who cares to be there with him during his last moments, or to take his body after he passes. That's what he deserves.

Instead he is given a judgement where he will go out in a political gunfight. It will be on the tips of everyone's tounges again, now, not years from now when the war is history and he isn't worth more than a passing comment at the end of a news program. This judegment allows him to make a statement: "Allahu Akbar!" (God is Great) and "Long live Iraq! Long live the Iraqi people! Down with the traitors!".

In his hometown people are rioting, showing their support for him. In other cities in Iraq people are celebrating the judgement. Isn't there enough turmoil in the country... why create more?

And the ass monkey of all ass monkies* gets to make a statement, calling it a "milestone" in the efforts of the Iraqi people "to replace the rule of a tyrant with the rule of law".

Regardless of what I think,he will be hung with in 30 days if he isn't able to have the decision appealed within 10 days.

Also he is convicted of the deaths of 148 people in 1982. I want to know what about retribution for all of the other people he hurt?

Now, before I am blasted for thinking he should live, please know that he is a horrible horrible man, and he did wrong to humanity. But if he is hung he will be given the chance to die in the public's eye, even as a martyr in his own eyes. I think a much more fitting punishment will be for him to rot, and relive why he's there, and perhaps then he can feel the wrath of what he has done.

* rhymes with Smushey.

November 5th.

Today was the anniversary of my Grannie and Grampa's wedding, and it was my Grannie's birthday. If I would have had more of a choice of what day to get married on I would have chose today. However last Nov. 5 wasn't appropriate because we weren't yet engaged and we had to get married before we came down here, so that's why we were married in January. Then we had the big ceremony in June because that's when it worked well for us. I kind of link our first date anniversary with today also, so they are close and this way, I have 3 anniversaries that I get to celebrate in a year. First date, marriage and wedding.


Here's a picture of my Grannie and Grampa on their wedding day. I love this picture. I think my Grannie looks so pretty and my Grampa so handsome.

Proposition 85

There are some elections coming soon, and I can tell. Every time I turn on the TV there is some ad blasting me to vote yes, or no, or that yes is wrong, or that no is. Or actors can't lead, or they can, or ahhhh.... Seriously I think that if I could vote here I would go crazy. (I would vote though!) There are so many issues and you have to make a decision on all of them. Off the top of my head there is: prop 87, 85, 89 (I think), 91, and 92. I can't remember any more, but registered voters get a book that is about three quarters of an inch thick giving the pros and cons of each of them and a summary on each of the candidates running for every position.

I titled this Prop 85. It bothers me to my core. In this proposition it will be required that if a teen opts for an abortion she has to notify her parents and wait 48 hours before she can have the procedure. Now while I think that far too many women/ girls have abortions as a form of birth control, there are instances where they are necessary. Anyhow I digress. There is never a time in my life when the government can tell me what to do with my body. NEVER.

The Yeses argue that it will prevent rapes from being hidden. It tells the story of a girl who was raped and the rapists mother took her to get an abortion and then took her out of the city to recover. The mother of the girl notified the authorities when she noticed her daughter had gone missing. To add insult to injury the abortion hadn't been done properly and the girl needed to have another one. While this whole story is horrible I think that there is a bigger issue. Why didn't the girl go to her parents? I think that the bigger issue is a parenting one. Teens need to know that they can speak to their parents about anything. Parents need to stop relying on the school system to education their children about sex and sexual issues. Perhaps if that girls parents had always had open lines of communication then she wouldn't have been in that situation either. Furthermore why was she having sex at 13? How much had her parents talked to her about sex growing up? Not much I bet. Maybe Prop 85 should make parents take mandatory parenting classes.

The Nos argue that this will result in more child abuse and more children who are being put out on the streets by their parents. I think it's scary to think of a girl who's gotten pregnant and is scared to tell her parents about it for fear of what they will do. She is already in a horrible place in her life, don't force her to make it worse.

Obviously if I could vote, I would vote no. I think that situations like what the yesses are basing their argument on is avoidable by having a good relationship with your child(ren) and making sure that they know you're there and that you will listen and not hurt them. Also to re-iterate I would be a no because a government can't tell me what to do with my body. I can't stress that enough. It's just not right.

Prop 87.
This one is to decrease California's dependence on foreign oil and increase the use of cleaner energy. Also Bill Clinton is a yesser. I can understand how this is good. It will also create more jobs, and help to reduce pollution.

The noers argue that it will increase taxes, and we don't like more taxes. Initially I was a noer, the yesses had a commercial that started with showing a burning American flag, as it pans out you can see that it's Arabic (I think) men who are burning the flag. The voice over says "We buy their oil, they burn our flag," I was enraged when I saw this because it's blatant propaganda. The flag burning is something different, it has nothing to do with the Americans buying their oil. BLATENENT PROPAGANDA. BLATNENT. Just because of that I was a no. Then Adam explained to my why he was a yes. There is a chance that a lot of the jobs that will be created are in the techie industry. Which is good, and could benefit Adam. I do really agree with using cleaner fuels, and on principle Prop 87 should be a go ahead. We should make the environment a priority. However that one commercial sullied the whole campaign for me. If I could vote I don't know what I would do. Scaring voters is wrong and unfair.

Well those are the ones that I know the most about. I think the most important thing is that people do the research and vote. Don't just believe what you see on TV.

Belated Halloween.

Doesn't Bonsai make a cute witch. It was pretty nice of him to sit so still, and just look how happy he is. He's not an ornery old cat at all!



Busted! Apparently Chachi likes Reeses Pieces! (he didn't eat any, it was an empty bag)







Bonus Pet Pictures....

Here's Bonsai squinting at the camera.

I promise we love them both equal, but Bonsai is an old cat, he likes to sleep and doens't do many cute things. Although it is funny when he slaps the dog upside the head (sans claws thankyouverymuch), or how he grabs you asyou walk by if he wants some lovin'. The best though is when he trys to grab my cereal bowl from me in the morning, 'cause he knows there's milk in it. We have some cool videos of Bonsai catching is toy mouse in the air when we throw it to him, but I'm not that techie yet....




Adam gave Chachi some Life cereal pieces and he lined them up (not in this picture) but in this one you can see him eyeballing them. He was very happy to play with them all afternoon, then he ate them.



After I dried some laundry I dumped it on the couch before I folded it. It was Chachi's favorite spot all day.

Quick!

Grab onto something solid. It's 7:30 AM and I am about to go for a run. The world is going to stop spinning.

Friday's Sundries.

Today is the second anniversary of Adam's and my first date. It's odd, it feels just like yesterday we celebrated our first anniversary. Then in November we moved in together, celebrated another Christmas together, and another New Years. Got secretly engaged, only to tell everyone a week later. Were married January 23. Moved to California January 30th. Bought a dog, named him Chachi. Planned a wedding for June 16th, and had said wedding. Then we started trying to have a baby. And now here we are. It's been a busy year.

On Travelling as a Candian.

Stuntmother posted a comment on my last post how she has shouldered her "share of collective blame for my strange and smelly country" while she has traveled. This inspired me to explain my thoughts on traveling Canadians.

In my travels I have met a lot of militant (for the lack of a better word) Canadians. They were so Canadian that they would avoid any non-Canadians for fear they would sully their intrinsic Canadian-ness. These were often the Canadians who would sew a Canadian flag patch onto every piece of luggage or carrying device they own. It was a little extreme. These Canadians were also supremely proud of the fact that occasionally you may encounter an American who would also sew a Canadian flag patch onto something, just to escape some of the negativity they may encounter.

While I can understand that being Canadian is something special and I am a proud Canadian I can acknowledge that there are some other amazing people in the world, who are *gasp* not Canadian! While in Korea I made several friends who weren't Canadian and I spent a vast amount of my social time with them. I was shunned by some Canadians for this, but those Canadians were wing nuts and I wouldn't have befriended them at home anyhow. Rather than pay attention to where someone came from I focused on who they were, and that's why I had such an amazing time. Besides don't we travel to broaden our horizons? 'Cause I know I don't just travel to experience the bugs. (Oh Montezuma, how you ravaged my guts.)

So to just confirm, I love being Canadian, I never sewed the flag to anything, but I do have it tattooed to my leg.

That all being said, if you've travelled and you're Canadian did you sew the flag on your bag, and if you did why? If you're not Canadian what do you think of Canadians doing this, and if you are American, would you do it to escape the scrutiny?

On being Canadian in America.

It seems as though I have touched on a wee little nerve with the Canadian vs American debate.
A month or so ago I found a writing competition. You had to write an essay detailing whether or not Americans have a grasp on reality. I wanted to enter the contest but I didn't have enough time. I did think about it a lot and it's stayed with me.
So here's what I think:
I think that individually Americans do have a grasp on reality. However, as a collective they don't. I've come to this conclusion for a couple reasons. Since I live here I have met a lot of Americans and have had a chance to talk about a lot of issues and what not and they have valid opinions and make good arguments. As a collective I feel that Americans don't have a grasp on reality. I made this bizzare comment as a Canadian on the outside looking in. Or merely as a non-American looking in. I think the world has this view that America is or is trying to be the ruler of the world. This isn't always seen as a positive thing. There were a lot of times when I was travelling that I would be mistaken as being American and therefor be treated badly. When I would assert myself as being Canadian I would get apologies and free stuff (so cool), I am sure that the person that was confusing me with an American may not have had that much interaction with Americans. Rather they just know what they have heard in the news and seen on tv. So the world has the perception that Americans don't have a grasp on reality. I am sure that if the store owner in Korea who denied me my sticky bun spoke to any of the Americans I know their opinions would change.
I will acknowledge that there are exceptions. There are some truly ignorant Americans out there... ryhmes with Mush, and this guy. Also there are some truly ignorant Canadians too.
I guess overall I try not to assign a title to someone until I know them a little more. Perhaps I don't know a lot of ignorant Americans becasue when I get a hint of ignorance I don't interact with them more, likewise with Canadians.
What do you think? Do you agree with my theory of individual vs collective grasps of reality?

Halloween in the Castro.

Last night was CRAZY!
Adam and I were all dressed up, me as Alice in Wonderland and him as the White Rabbit. I wore a costume that my Grannie and I made years ago, it's a short little blue dress with a white apron, with lots o' crinolin. I bought Adam a pair of white scrubs and he wore a white shirt, that had a big pink oval on it so he would have a pink belly. He also wore ears, a tail and a card stock clock. And the best part, his suit jacket, becasue he was a well dressed White Rabbit. I think we were cute, but I don't think that anyone really understood what we were trying to achieve.
My friend (the Canadian hater) wore a Mr. Incredible costume, and everybody recognized him. We were peppered all night with: "Hey it's Mr. Incredible!", "The Incredibles!", "I loved your movie man!"
Personally I think us not being understood and him being recognized says something about society. We're losing the classics. That's sad. Granted I'm a classic children's literature snob, but Disney has helped to keep some going... geeze, I even opted to look like the Disney version of Alice.... sigh.
Anyhow, we left the event early, there were a lot of people and I didn't want to die.
This morning I recieved an email from my friend at home who was a little panicy. Apparently there were 7 people shot last night at the Halloween in the Castro. I wasn't shot, we left about 10 minutes before it happened.
I was glad to leave, there were too many people there, and I couldn't appreciate all of the people because I couldn't see them. All I could see was Mr. Incredible's back. When we were higher on a hill I could see that there was about 5 blocks of people filling the streets, but that was the only time I saw that. The rest of the time I was just squashed in the middle of it all. Crazy.
I don't think I'll go back next year.
How was your halloween? If you stayed home and recieved Trick or Treaters, how many did you get?