One of the Most Profound Statements I Have Seen in a While

It was all fun and games until my vacation ended yesterday. I punctuated a wonderful 11 days of rest and relaxation with the proverbial cubicle scream once I downloaded all my backed up unread e-mail. After my download finally completed, my morning was pretty much set in stone with the dubious task of wading through over 360 unread messages.

One of my e-mails contained a newsletter from an organisation I belong to at work. Within the newsletter I found the following quote by Dr. Seuss:
Be who you are and say what you feel,
Because those who mind don't matter
And those who matter don't mind

I love the quote because it is a lesson in truly being yourself. I also love it for the beauty of its simplicity. Actually living by the words is much more complex.

I'm not exactly sure what to do with the quote in terms of applying it to my own life, but I know I happened upon it for a reason. What I decide to do with it is yet to come.

One Thing I Never Thought I Would do on my Birthday

This year's birthday was special for a reason other than turning 40. There was one thing I never thought I would do on my birthday, and that was ride around in a combine harvesting corn.

You don't have to be from a farm to know that crops are normally harvested in the fall. But back in the fall it was too wet to take the corn off one of the fields and so the corn was left all winter. Since this corn was destined for pig chop, the quality does not have to be as pristine as it would had the corn been destined for human consumption, so it was still good enough to harvest. Also, in early to mid-March the snow is normally still melting. This year the snow melted early, thereby setting the stage for a harvest to occur on my birthday weekend.

Now let's get one thing straight - I was not driving the combine or harvesting corn. I am far too urban to do that. Well, it's not that I am too urban, it's just that I have no idea how to drive a combine or use it to harvest. If there is one thing I have learned in life, it is that you don't mess around with a half a million dollar piece of farm equipment! Disclaimers aside, it was my brother Anson who was driving the combine, I just went along for the dusty ride.

It was as close to the crack of dawn as I get on a weekend, and my nephew Gerry woke me up to see if I wanted to go out in the field on the tractor with him. Part of me wanted to stay asleep, but then I realised this is probably the only time in my life that I will get an opportunity to go out in March and watch my family members work the field. So I put on my grubbies and off I went.

The morning was gorgeous! The sky was clear, not a cloud to be seen. The frost was still in the ground. It was chilly outside, but the cab is heated. The mood was laid back; all in all I had absolutely nothing to complain about.

Gerry mentioned that the only thing that would make the morning better would be a tea from Tim Horton's, and that I should go.
me: I don't have my license on me.
Gerry: You're in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't matter.
me: If anyone would get caught driving without a license, it would be me.
Gerry: then don't get caught.
Anson (on the two way radio): Gerry, do something (note: he actually said to do something more specific, but I can't remember what it was).
Gerry: Hold on, I am trying to convince Aunt Lori to go to Tim Horton's.
Anson: I'll have a milk and two sugars in my tea. Get me one of them fritters, too.
me: I don't have my license on me.
Anson: It's okay, just don't get caught.
me: Jeppers! Like father, like son!

So off I trundled into town to experience my own Tim Horton's moment. Luckily it is a small town where they are used to people walking in in their grubbies. Tea, coffee, and fritters in hand I made it back to the combine without getting caught. As the morning wore on, the frost came out of the ground and we had to stop or face the prospect of digging a combine out of the mud.

I was a bit sad to leave the field, but I did snap a bunch of photos along the way to capture the moment. I still keep one of them on my blackberry at work to remind myself that no matter how crazy the downtown Toronto rat race gets, there is always a place I can go where the sun shines, the mood is laid back, and everything feels better with a coffee and fritter in my hand.

My Little Patch of Green

Well my search for items for my bathroom has turned out fruitless so far. I'm not discouraged, it's just going to take a little longer than I thought to find what I want.

The biggest challenge is finding a vanity and counter top that will go with the existing beige toilet and bathtub. This is a perfect illustration as to why I like white bathroom fixtures, but the beige came with the house so I am kind of stuck. Replacing the toilet would not be so bad, but the tub would be a royal pain in the A**. Getting a tub surround in there presents the same challenge as putting in a new tub. I am also not willing to paint the tub, as I used that trick when I sold the condo and was not very happy with the results. The only saving grace there was that I was selling the place, so the painted tub and tile were not going to be my problem. I will just keep hunting and eventually I will find something that works. I'm estimating that November will be when I finally get everything together.

At least my week off has not been a complete and total waste. As I was walking to the bathroom store, I stoppped off at a garden centre and was inspired to do my gardening. I purchased 24 petunias in a myriad of colours, and 2 begonias - salmon pink and sunshiney yellow. That was the beginning of my gardening odyssey.

I decided to trim the hedge in my front yard, as I noticed it was yet again encroaching on my neighbour Fernando's car. Fernando's side of the hedge trimmed up beautiful and square, but my side had a big gaping hole that was directly attributable to some branches breaking off when I was shovelling snow in the winter. I trimmed and I trimmed but try as I might, nothing was fixing the gaping hole.

I was taking a bit of a break, examining the hedge, and deciding what to do when Dave from 2 doors down came home from work. He asked what I was doing, and I explained my dilemma. He said "well, if you decide to take it down I have a tool that will cut through the branches like soft butter!" I took it as a sign.

After a couple of hours of pruning and digging, the hedge was gone. I felt kind of bad at first, until I was standing in the front doorway and noticed how much brighter the entrance looked. My decision was confirmed by a couple more neighbours when they commented on how much more spacious the front yard looked. They have a bush that grows in a spot that is akin to where my hedge was, and are now contemplating getting rid of their bush as well.

I had to plant the petunias just as the rain was starting, but was glad that I did not have to water them. At the end of it all, it was nice to see colour in my front entrance, and I hope the petunias and begonias will bloom all summer.

Today I finished up my gardening by weeding the back yard, churning up the soil, and trimming the rose bushes. I still have my annual maple key fight ahead of me, but at least the worst is over for this year. I'm glad because I don't think my back and shoulders could take any more abuse. They say gardening is therapeutic, but what they really mean is gardening is followed by a therapeutic massage!

Three Days in and I am Finally Ready to Leave my House

I logged into Facebook while enjoying my morning coffee, and noticed that my friend Scott has put up the link to his blogsite. I was quite happy about it, since I had lost the link to his site. He's got a pretty cool theme about trying to change his lifestyle one scary thing at a time. I really enjoyed the post where he talks about making better use of Monday to Friday instead of just wishing the days away for the weekend. I'm looking forward to watching his progress, and it has given me something to think about, too.

I've spent the bulk of the last three days loafing and sleeping and have not really done a whole lot. Managed to go to the grocery store on Sunday and cooked a fabulous salmon dinner. I also went through the papers and requirements to apply for my Irish citizenship, just in case I ever want to work overseas.

I must thank my brother for going through the process first, since he lined up a lot of the documents that are required, like Grandma's birth certificate and stuff. I was looking at my grandparents' marriage certificate and learned that they were married in Woodstock, which I had no idea. As I looked at the document it felt like I was holding a little piece of history. Its pretty cool what you can learn from looking at one piece of paper. It kinda blew me away, particularly when I realised that I would not be here today had this event not taken place.

Today I am finally going to leave my house and go shopping for things to renovate the bathroom. I am bracing myself for dropping big wads of cash all over town, but in the end it will be worth it. I have hated the bathroom ever since I moved in here but just could not decide what to do with it. I am slowly getting a clear picture of what I want and now it is just a matter of finding it.

I don't think I will find everything today, so I have two shopping days scheduled for reno shopping. Thursday I am going downtown to catch the new Star Trek flik with my co-workers. After I see that, I will start counting down the days until the new Terminator movie comes out on May 21. I can't wait to see that one too!

Salsa, Sylvester, Slumber (or lack thereof)

Last Saturday I left off where I was going to hang out with the kayak girls for the evening. My intentions were good, I was going to go for a couple of hours then head home around 11:30 or so. It would have worked out, had it not been for some guy from the Isle of Man showing up and wooing me with his salsa dancing prowess. I'm not sure how salsa dancing and a Celtic island go together, but it was the first time in a very long time that I had danced with someone so I did not question it. At least he did not try to woo me with clogging or some other crazy type of Celtic jig - that would have just freaked me out. His friend made him leave fairly early, but I was having far too much fun to call it a night.

The kayak girls and I wound up going to a friend of a friend's place to shoot some pool and by the time we got in it was about 5:00 AM. I had no choice but to sleep the whole day away. It was a stark reminder of why I wanted to leave early, but I have absolutely no regrets about taking the opportunity to go blow off some steam.

The cat has settled in some more. I think he has succumbed to the fact that he is lonely and I am the onely other being from whom he can get any sort of affection. He does not mind when I pet him and enjoys being carried up the stairs out of the basement. After a few days straight of forcing him out of the basement, he has realised that he has full reign of the entire house.

It was my original goal to ensure he was comfortable enough to roam throughout the house. But now I am kind of questioning it. Last night I had settled in for an evening of old All in the Family re-runs that were showing on the free preview of the Deja View channel. I drifted off into a peaceful slumber listening to Archie yell at whoever dared to speak to him.

Around 2:00 AM I awoke to a sound that had me convinced my roof was falling in. As I lay on the couch I thought "should I go check that out, or should I stay down here in the relative safety of my blankie?" As I was laying there, I heard the noise again. I ran up the stairs and into my den only to find my office chair was pulled away from the desk, and the afghan that I leave on my office chair was laying on the floor. There could only be one explanation for that - Sylvester!

I looked under my bed, and Sylvester shot me a look back as if to say "WHAT?". Then he ran back to the basement. I'm still not sure what he was doing with the office chair, but I hope he will not be doing multiple repeat performances of this action at 2:00 AM every night.

Yesterday was the start of 11 work-free days. I have been looking forward to this much needed rest for a while. It feels weird knowing that I don't have to get out of bed tomorrow at the crack of dawn and it feels even weirder to not have a blackberry attached to my hip.

That being said, I hope to get a bunch of stuff done around the house that has been nagging me, including shopping for my bathroom and repairing the toilet upstairs. But it is more likely that I will loaf around in my back yard for most of the week.

A Quiet Saturday in the Yard

The cat has finally warmed up to me, he doesn't run away quite so quickly now when I approach him, and he purrs when I pet him as opposed to freaking out completely. We still have arguments surrounding the furnace room. I don't like him in there, but have no way to keep him out. I also don't like the fact that he keeps pulling insulation off the wall and laying on it. Today I will be going to Rona to purchase some plastic to staple over top of the insulation. There is more than one way to rob a cat of his desire to lay on fiberglass insulation.

I have only 5 working days until I am on vacation! Nothing prestigious this time, I am going to spend my time shopping for items to redo my bathroom. My intent was to complete the renovations whilst on vacation, but since I do not have any of the materials yet, I guess I will settle with the shopping.

Other than that, not alot has been going on for the past few days. Today I am going to go to the driving range with a good friend, then off to On the Curve with the Kayak Girls for a night out. I'm hoping it will be a day choc full of fun!

Houdini Cat

I officially own Houdini Cat. Just when I figure out where he is hiding, he goes and finds another place to disappear to. It usually takes me a bit to find him, but ultimately I do.

Saturday we had a discussion about him hiding behind the dryer - I won. then we had a discussion about him hiding underneath the furnace pipe - I thought I won. But in the end he knew my disdain for copious amounts of dirt and dust webs, so he won. This now adds a new layer of responsibility - hoping he doesn't get burned by the furnace.

I honestly thought owning a cat would be all love and sunshine and a very rewarding experience. So far, I think the cat hates me. The only rewards I have reaped are re-insulating a segment of wall that he tore the insulation out of, making sure he hasn't burst into flames from hanging out under the furnace pipe, and picking cat piss clumps out of the litter box. I am also convinced that the reason the cat hangs out in the furnace room so much is that he is trying to learn how to sever the gas line so that I will meet an untimely explosive death in my sleep.

But, overall the cat appears to be healthy. I can't entirely tell if he is eating, but he manages to keep up enough strength to scratch the crap out of my arms whenever I try to hold him.

Despite my rant, I am glad I have him. He is making me be a more responsible individual particularly since I now have to check behind the dryer every time I wash my socks n scivvies. As I thought about his relative safety whilst hanging out behind the dryer, I thought about dryer safety in general - particuarly that one fateful weekend. It was the first weekend I was living on my own when I started university.

I remember the day well, the year was 1988 and it was one of those perfect September days where the sky was blue, there wasn't a cloud to be seen, and I frittered it away by doing my laundry. My roommate, Mary, had gone home for the weekend, so I was home all by myself.

Things were going very well, I had done a wash load and transferred it over to the dryer. I had just finished putting in the next load of washing when my box of Bounce fell off the back of the dryer. I went around to retrieve the box when all of a sudden the dryer started shaking profusely and practically started to walk across the floor. I thought "how strange, I know that washers do this, but I did not realize dryers did this." After much shaking, the dryer quit. I thought "well that didn't seem to take very long, but thank goodness it is done." I reached down to open the door, but stopped suddenly due to the thick, dark grey, pungent cloud of smoke billowing out of the back of the dryer.

"CRAP the dryer caught fire!"

Oh God oh God oh God oh God! What do I do! Think, think, think...... Ok, rip the clothes out of the dryer to remove the "fuel". Done.

CRAP, smoke is still billowing out of the back. What do I do? Think, think, think...... call the fire department!

Recall that the year is 1988 and I came from a farm. Back in those days on the farm we did not have 9-1-1, and that an actual telephone number was proudly displayed on a sticker on the phone with an emergency location code to give to the operator.

I ran upstairs, picked up the phone and looked for the sticker.

CRAP there is no sticker on the phone! What do I do? Think, think, think...... Look in the phone book.

CRAP can't find the number. What do I do? Think, think, think...... Run downstairs and check the situation.

CRAP smoke is still billowing out of the back of the dryer.
CRAP what do I do?
CRAP what am I still doing in the house?!?!?!?!

As I ran up the stairs and out of the house I thought to myself "Go to the neighbours and get them to call the fire department" So I ran down the driveway and noticed a man walking down the street. ....

Imagine the man walking down the street. A rough looking character, if you will, with a black leather jacket slung over his back. He was having such a lovely time staring at the clear blue pleasant sky. He even looked like he was singing a happy tune in his head. He was walking with one of those slow relaxed saunters taking in the sights right up until he saw a young woman standing in the driveway yelling:

HEY YOU!!! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!

man: WHAT?!
me: CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!
man: Well let me look at it.
me in my head: Perhaps you should run up to the 7-11 at the corner and get some marshmallows so you can roast them over my sweat socks!
me actually saying: JUST CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT
man: Relax! Let me look at it!
me: fine

By the time we got inside, smoke had stopped billowing out the back of the dryer. At least it was hanging in a thick pungent cloud at the ceiling of the basement so I did not look like a complete fool.

man: I think it is okay.
me: I think we should call the fire department.
man: just go get a screwdriver and I will open up the back and double check.

I got the screwdriver, he opened the back and checked it out.

man: it's okay, I don't see any fire anymore. I think it was just that the motor blew and what you saw was residual smoke.
me: are you sure?
man: yes
me: ok. Sorry to bother you, you can go now.
man: it's okay, its not every day that I get to be a hero. By the way, for future reference the phone number for the fire department is 9-1-1
me: that works here?

The man shot me a strange look as if to say "Where are you FROM?!?" but then wisely chose to exit the house. I gathered my wet clothes and proceeded to hang them in the back, secretly hoping that no one would steal my scivvies. Its not so much that I would miss the scivvies, it was more that the looming possibility of someone wanting my scivvies just freaked me out. As I hung the clothes, I thought about what could have happened had the whole house burned down. I finished up, and did what all good teenage girls would do in my situation - I sat in the corner on the stairs and cried. Then I thought "I need to talk to Mom. I am going to call her."

I phoned Mom, and her voice sounded rather concerned since I was phoning for the second time that day.
me: Hi Mom
Mom, with hesitation: Hellloooo???
me sobbing: Mom, my...my...my dryer exploded
Mom: OH MY GOD LET ME GET YOUR FATHER!!
me: No Mom, don't get
Mom: AL! LORI'S ON THE PHONE! COME QUICK!
Dad: Hello, what's wrong?
me sobbing: Dad, the dryer exploded.
Dad: WELL WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT? YOU'RE DOWN THERE AND I AM HERE! GOSH, LORI, THINK!
me: Ok Dad. I feel much better now. I am going to go.

I resumed sitting in the corner crying until my landlady's sister came to the house. She made me a cup of tea, talked to me for a while, calmed me down, and then sent me downstairs to sit in the pungent cloud of smoke to watch TV. The dryer got replaced, but to this day I am still very skiddish about clothes dryers. Perhaps that would explain the piles of laundry that continuously build up on my bedroom floor.

This week was a pretty busy week for me. Went to the doctor on Monday for my annual checkup. Overall I am healthy, but I did mention to her that I was having troubles with not having any energy. She had planned on vampiring some blood from me, so she added in a vitamin D test, and it turns out I am deficient. I have to take supplements to compensate, but with a fabulous day out like today, I figure sitting in the yard will do me just as well.

For the first time ever in my blood test history, the girl could not find a vein. During her frustrated search she looked at me and said "next time would you please drink a bunch of water?" I wanted to respond "ok, but after this is over would you please use a real bandaid instead of cotton gauze and cheap tape that is guaranteed to rip holes in my arm?" Almost a week has passed and I still have the marks from the tape. In fact, when I get a blood test I am more scared of the tape than I am of the needle!

The other highlight of the week took place on Thursday - I became a new parent to Sylvester the cat. Having a cat is going to take some getting used to, like the added responsibility of having to look after someone other than myself, changing litter, sweeping up fur, etc etc. But I think it will be a rewarding experience once I figure out where the cat went.

I brought him home on Thursday night, and figured the basement would be the best place for him, since I can put his litter and food in the bathroom, and there is a big room for him to hang out in and look out the patio door. I got up Friday morning to check on him, and he was pretty traumatized. I picked him up and took him over to the patio door thinking he might find the birds in the back yard very interesting. The poor guy shook in my arms. I would have liked to have spent more time with him, but in order to afford the cat (and my house) I had to go to work to earn my keep.

I got home Friday evening and checked on him, he was still pretty scared. I got a couple of blankets and a pillow and spent part of the night with him. I offered him some tuna, and we actually bonded despite the fact he didn't eat the tuna. At one point he sat on top of a box in the corner, so I went upstairs to do something, when I got back downstairs I could not locate him. Turns out the top of the box collapsed inward, and he had fallen inside. The box contained scented candles, so when I rescued him I noticed he smelled very perfumy!

As I layed on the floor, his confidence grew and he started to explore the room. He was very interested in the crack under neath the door to upstairs. As I napped on the floor, he also became interested in the patio door. The sound of the blinds rustling was driving me nuts, so I went upstairs around 2 AM and slept in my own bed.

I decided that today I would introduce him to the rest of the house while I was home for the day. I got downstairs, and Sylvester had managed to open the basement door. Apparently my timeline for introducing him to the rest of the house was too slow for him!

I did not think my house was that big, but I have searched under every piece of furniture and inside every closet, and Sylvester is nowhere to be found. I checked the front door, and the deadbolt was still on, so at least I know he did not go outside. The patio door still had the security bar on it, too, so he has to be in there somewhere.

The only place I have not checked is under the basement stairs. I think he sensed my fear of spiders, and I figure there are a tonne of spiders living under there so he may have taken up shop there.

I hope he is okay. Like most cats, he is very nocturnal so I will just have to wait until tonight and see if I can hear the telltale jingling of his tags on his collar. At least he knows where the litter box is, and has used it, so I don't have to worry about any surprises.

I'm in my 40's and it Could Not be Any More Fabulous!

For the past couple of months I had a counter up on the site to count down the remaining days of being in my 30's. For years I had watched people get bummed out about turning 40, and really I can't understand why! I look at where I am now compared to where I have been, and things could not be any more fabulous for me. I have a great job, a great house, and a great group of friends. I travel the world as much as I can, and when I can't I am out and about seeing what I can get into. It took 4 decades to do it, but I finally found my happy place.

When I put the counter up on the site, my intention was to write 10 posts to summarize each year I was in my 30's. Although my intentions were good, the reality was that I was only going to turn 40 once and I better make it memorable. Enter the planning and execution of the most spectacular birthday week ever!

The planning all started early in the year with me conceptualizing what I should do. I was on the fence - travel somewhere, have a small intimate dinner with close friends, or have a larger scale party with all my close friends. One night I went for drinks with my friend Kevin, and I was talking about my dilemma. He asked what my 30th was like, and I told him it was very uneventful since I had just moved to Toronto. He asked what my 35th was like, and I told him it wasn't bad, but there were some issues surrounding it. Kevin analysed my responses and said "Well you MUST give yourself a great big party!"

So the decision was made, and the party was born. And then it took on a life of its own!

First choice - where to have it. I thought about the Maddy, but a few of my friends don't like the Maddy. Then I thought about The Charlotte Room, but it was a bit out of the way. Then Paul offered up his condo, and Paul & Lisa offered up their party planning skills and I decided ultimately to have it there. Next choice - party room vs Paul's actual condo. The party room required a liquor license, which I felt was a wasted expense considering we could have bevies just as well in Paul's condo. With that dilemma solved, I had to move onto the food.

My intentions were just finger foods, but the party was starting at 7:00 and Lisa felt that people may be expecting a smorgasborg. Well, if a smorgasborg was what they were expecting, a smorgasborg is what they got! A trip to Costco, a few trips to the grocery store, and a trip to the market later I had a feast that could have fed an army!

Out of approximately 60 invitees, more than 20 people showed up to celebrate what I dubbed "My Last Weekend in my 30's". It was a fascinating cross-section of people - co-workers past, co-workers present, girls from my kayak class, and a number of other friends that I have just met along the way. I was amazed at how well everyone interacted with each other, and there wasn't a dull moment to be had. But perhaps the thing that struck me the most was that out of all the people in the room, there was not a single person who was there that knew me in my 20's and yet so many people had taken the time to come out to honour my milestone.

Paul made an awesome speech, during the speech he made reference to me being Grace, and him being Will. After all, he is the fashionable yet sensible gay man, and I am the tall skinny neurotic woman that he just can't seem to get rid of.

I had been warned earlier in the day that I would be making a speech. I was not sure what to say. Do I get reflective about my 30's? Do I speculate about what is yet to come? After much deliberation, I decided that the following summed up my feelings at that exact moment:

My father once told me that I would do well in life if I could have just one good friend. If that is the case, then as I look around I must be the richest woman in the world! Thank you for coming out to honour me, I love you all.

I figured the party would wind down around 11:30 or midnight, but the last guests did not leave until about 4:00 AM. I sat with a glass of wine out on Paul's balcony and reflected on the evening, retired to the yoga mat, and woke up with a nasty headache. The party was a success!

For those who could not make it to my last weekend in my 30's, a spillover party was held on my actual birthday. Rose, John, Rose's daughter, Paul and I celebrated at a couple of different Irish pubs. John was sensible and went home at a respectible hour, while the rest of us went up to the village. My birthday was so important that even Cher showed up to wish me well! Ok, this Cher is actually a drag queen, but the impressive part was that she does not normally like people to get their picture taken with her, but since it was my 40th birthday she humoured me and allowed the photo. Close to 11:00 I got tired, and decided to retire early since I had to work the next day. Plus I had to pack my bags and head to my hometown for birthday party number three.

Party number three was my family bash. My Mom did a fabulous job, and it was great to have my immediately family plus a couple of cousins I had not seen in a while around me. We had good food, good laughs, and it was an experience I will cherish for a lifetime.

I made it back to the city and birthday week drew to a close. I was happy because by this time I was all partied out, and wanted to resume my normal life. At least, as normal as my life can be!

A whole new season of backyard blogging!

Up until it got really cold outside, all my blog posts were written in my back yard. I don't have the nicest back yard, but it is a yard and I own it so I am darn well going to use it! The birds are happily using the yard, too. So much so that when Paul called me this morning he actually said "Did you get a bird? What's all that chirping?"

My rose bushes and lilac bush already have leaves coming out on them, my tulips poked through the soil a couple of weeks ago, and my columbine is happily growing up through the soil. I saved all the cash I was given for my birthday and intend on buying a few new bushes for it in a week or two.

My brother Doug gave me his old barbeque and as soon as I figure out how to hook it up I will be cookin some very fine chicken and stuff. Of course, I will also have to learn how to use the barbeque too.

This week I will have a new roommate. His name is Sylvester, and as you guessed, he is a cat. I'm a bit nervous about looking after someone other than myself, but I am sure I will do alright. I managed to keep my last cat Weasle alive, and lately I have done well with a peace lily. I'm just more nervous of the change than I am of actually looking after a cat.

Happy Family Day Part 3 - The Siblings

The day I got married my brother Doug was the MC. Part of his speech included the following: it's quite amazing that despite being grossly barraged by teasing and practical jokes Lori still turned out to be a functional member of society.

Barely.

Being the youngest of four children and the only girl had its advantages. I was spoiled. Or by the time I came along my parents were just too tired to notice that I was misbehaving. Or I learned by observing my brothers that if I do "X" then the punishment will be "Z". I would carefully consider their punishment and decide if it was worth it to carry out that action and endure the results.

However, being the youngest of four children and the only girl also had its disadvantages too. The boys had their club of three, and at a young age there was no room for a girl in the club unless I was explicitly invited. Originally I felt that an invite to play with them was an honour, but over time I learned that an invite usually carried with it some sort of teasing or torture or both.

My first memory of experiencing the gang of three was the time they locked me in a bedroom. Rob made sure that I could not escape from the room, Doug flicked the light on and off to create a strobe effect, and Anson was laying on the bed. Anson sat up all the while pretending to be Dracula. At the age of 3 it scared the crap out of me. Mom was in the next room, heard my screams of horror, and came after them with the flyswatter - Mom's weapon of choice she used to keep us all in line. Everyone feared the flyswatter partially from the concept of being hit with something that had bug guts all over it, but more because that thing hurt! I always felt sorry for flies after I was punished with it.

Then there was the time that Anson and Doug called me into my room and asked me to get something out of my closet. I opened the door only to find they had taken a teddy bear, dressed it in clothes, hung it from a noose from my closet rod and jammed an archery arrow into its throat. I'm not sure if I ever told them about the nightmare I had that evening where I dreamed that Dad had hung himself from the shower. It was very traumatic.

Or the time that Rob was laying on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and told me that he would help me fly by sitting on his feet. I sat on his feet, he pushed his legs out as hard as he could. I was airborne for a split second, but then landed with a massive thud on my knees on the floor. Mom entered the scene, flyswatter in hand.

As time progressed, I grew increasingly wary of anything my brothers described as "a fun thing to do." Around the age of 7 or 8 Rob tied King the dog to my bike, called me over and said
Rob: Hey Lori, get on the bike and King will pull you around. It will be fun!
me: No. It will not be fun. I will get hurt.
Rob: You won't get hurt. All you have to do is sit there, and King will do the work.
me: What if I go too fast?
Rob: If you go too fast just use your breaks to slow down.
me: Are you sure I won't get hurt?
Rob: Try it and see.

I thought about it, and decided that since I had a contingency plan in place for going too fast I should be okay. I sat on the bike, Rob asked me if I was ready, I said Yes and he yelled GO KING GO!

The dog took off, and I was enjoying the ride. I had the contingency plan in place, but wasn't using it because it actually was a fun ride. Right until I started to round the 90 degree bend in the driveway. Knowing nothing about the laws of centrifugal force, I slammed on the breaks half way round the bend, the bike flew into the air, and I landed about 15 feet away in the field on my head. I passed out for a few seconds, came too, and watched the dog still running down the driveway and dragging my bike on the ground. It was not the fun ride I had signed up for.

But it wasn't all bad. My Aunt had sent a card to me for my 7th birthday, but it did not arrive. I did not understand the concept of "snail mail" at that time, and looked for the card in the mailbox throughout the day. That night when I went to bed I was very sad. As I was about to fall asleep I felt something touch my face. I opened my eyes and Doug handed a card to me - I opened it and it was from my Aunt! I went to sleep happy knowing that she had not forgot my birthday.

A day or two later a card arrived in the mail for me. It was from my Aunt. I opened it, looked at my Mom and said "Hey, I got TWO cards from Aunt Joan!" and Mom told me what really happened. She said "Doug could not stand to see you go to bed looking so sad, so he asked me for one of my cards in the card box. He signed her name, addressed it, sealed it, and gave it to you so you would not think that she had forgotten you and so that you could go to bed happy." To that point, it was the nicest thing any of my brothers ever did for me.

A few years later, I was ice skating and got into a fight with the kid who lived next door. The kid hit me in the side of the head, knocked out my earring and I was in pain. I later found out that Doug heard about the fight, went up to the kid and said "If you ever touch my little sister again I will kill you."

Even though they tormented me, they taught me how to defend myself. When I was five years old, they pulled me into a room, taught me how to make a fist properly so that I would not break my thumb when I hit someone, and coached me to learn how to throw a punch. I pitied the guy (who's nickname was Hands) that tried to disrespect me in a bar one night when I was in my early twenties. His face was quite swollen after I got through with him and even though I saw him a few more times at the same bar, he wisely chose to leave me alone.

I was married at the time that Doug turned 40. I was at his birthday party at a bar in Calgary, and got talking to his friend Frank. As the conversation ensued, Frank decided to hit on me.
Frank: I really want to kiss you right now
me: You can't kiss me. I am married.
Frank: It's ok. I don't mind.
me: I mind and I am pretty sure my husband will mind, too.

The conversation went on like this for a few minutes at which point Doug's voice came screaming across the room: FRANK!!!!! QUIT HITTING ON MY LITTLE SISTER!!!!

Doug saved me, or so I thought. Unfortunately Frank was a bit slow on the uptake and continued his pursuit.
Frank: Come home with me tonight.
me: No! I am married!
Frank: Please come home with me.
me: Okay, here's the deal. See that guy there, that's my oldest brother Anson. And that guy there is my brother Doug. If you can convince BOTH of them to let me go home with you, I will go home with you.

I really thought that Frank would get the hint. However, Frank looked at me and said "Doug's a really cool guy! He'll let you go home with me. I'm going to ask him now."

Oh.... my.... God! This guy is dumber than I thought. But I really have to see what Doug has to say. Doug and Anson were standing together talking when Frank interrupted.
Frank: Can your sister come home with me tonight?
Doug (with a look on his face like he has just eaten a raw lemon): NO. DUDE. SHE'S ALREADY MARRIED!
Frank (with look of extreme disappointment on his face): Oh. Ok.

Frank walked away, I looked at Doug and Anson and said "Sorry guys. I tried to tell him that and he just wasn't getting it!"

The next morning Doug, Anson and I were sitting at the table. Everything was pretty silent until Anson piped up and said "So, Doug, did you ever think that you would have to defend your little sister's honour at your 40th birthday?"

A short time after my ex-husband left me, Doug was over at my house. We were talking and I reminded him of the time when I was 10 years old and he put me on a diet because he thought I was getting fat. He set my target weight at 75 pounds! He did not recall doing it, probably because he wasn't the one eating cottage cheese, doing chinups and weighing himself twice a day. He felt bad for what he had done and said to me "I hope we weren't too hard on you when we were kids."

Perhaps for some people it would have been hard. For me, it was character building. I learned when to fight and when to walk away. I learned how to take a joke, and I learned how to play jokes. By growing up with guys around me, I learned how to be one of the guys - a skill that is especially handy when working in an IT department. I became adept at learning things by observing the behaviour of others. I learned that you should never put a lit candle underneath a bed or it will catch fire. I think the biggest lesson of all is that I learned how to forgive.

Now that we are older the four of us get along. Somewhere along the way I changed their name from "gang of three" to "safety net of three" because I know that all I have to do if I am in trouble is pick up the phone and they will be there for me. No matter what.

Happy Family Day Part 2 - The Parents.

Mom is my most important teacher. She taught me how to walk, how to talk, how to pee on the potty, how to read, how to write, how to play my first song on the piano, how to weed the garden, how to clean the house, how to line a cake pan with wax paper, and so on and so forth. As long as I have her I will never stop learning from her.

She spent countless hours waiting for me while I was at piano lessons. She never missed one of my competitions or recitals. I marvel at her patience as I am sure it couldn't have been that much fun for her to watch other kids play piano while she waited for me to claim my 5 minutes of fame onstage. She spent even more countless hours listening to me practice. I'm sure after a while it would get irritating for her to listen to me play the same two bars of music over and over and over again until I got it right.

Mom is my nurse. She was the one who held my hair when I had the flu and needed to throw up. That couldn't have been easy at all! She mended everything from skinned knees to a broken foot to a broken heart.

Mom gave me life and gave me spirit. Mom taught me the meaning of unconditional love. No matter how infuriating I was and no matter what I did wrong, she never turned her back on me. She believed in me and taught me to believe in myself.

My Dad was larger than life - at 6'4" tall and 225 pounds, he was a very big man. It took a lot to make him mad enough to yell at me, but when he did I did not hear it - I actually felt it reverberate in my chest. I think I lipped off to him once. That was enough for me to never do it again.

I inherited my Dad's quirky sense of humour and ability to look at things very differently than most people do. He and I would sit at the table and banter back and forth while Mom sat and shook her head. He also had this habit of stirring his coffee until the spoon was nice and hot, wipe it with a napkin, then touch my arm to see how high I would jump and how much I would complain.

Dad taught me that if you want anything in life you have to work for it. Each of us kids were given our own bicycles and I got mine around the age of 9 or 10. I had a habit of leaving it out in the rain, and not taking care of it as well as I should. It was an old school coaster bike with only one gear. I liked my bike, but when the kid next door showed up with a brand new 10 speed, I decided that I had to have one of those instead.

I asked Dad for a new bike, and he turned me down. I asked again and again and again, and received a "no" each time. After a while Dad got sick of me asking for the new bike so he said to me "I have to work for everything I want, so you have to learn that you must work for everything you want. If you want that bike, you have to do all your chores and do them well. Everything your mother asks you to do, you have to do it and without complaint. When I feel that you have done enough work, I will get the bike for you."

I did dishes, swept floors, weeded gardens, hung laundry, and all kinds of chores for what seemed like forever. Finally one Saturday morning my Dad said to me "I think you have worked hard enough and I am going to take you to Canadian Tire to get you your bike". I was in heaven. I got my reward, and was thinking of all the places my new bike would take me. As we were on the way home, Dad looked at me and said "Oh, by the way, I hope you don't think that this means you can start slacking. If I see you neglecting your chores I am going to take the front wheel off your bike and will keep it until you earn it back." He never did take the front wheel off, despite the fact that I would neglect my chores once in a while.

But the funniest part came years later when I talked to Dad about the fact that I had to earn the bike. His response was "I don't ever remember making you work for the bike." To which I replied "That's because you weren't the one stuck drying dishes every night after supper!"

As I grew older I found ways to be able to do the chores that I didn't mind doing and would try to slink my way around getting out of doing the stuff I didn't want to do. Dad knew this, and would have to find increasingly innovative ways of getting me to do things. One time the ceiling caved in at the bottom of the steps to the basement and the floor was full of a mixture of wood and fiberglass insulation. That Saturday Dad was working on fixing the ceiling and I noticed that he wasn't cleaning up the insulation. I thought to myself "Oh, he's saving that task for me. I'm going to have to find a way out of this one." So I hid in my room as long as I could. Unfortunately to get to the only bathroom in the house I had to go through the kitchen. I figured enough time had passed that the insulation would have been cleaned up and decided I should be safe to emerge from my room. Besides, my bladder was about to explode.

I came out of the bathroom and Dad was sitting drinking a coffee at the table. This is what happened next.
Dad: Hey, while you are walking by the cupboard, would you get a garbage bag out for me?
Me: Ok.
I got the garbage bag out of the cupboard.
Dad: Since you have the garbage bag in your hand, do you mind taking it downstairs for me?
Me: Ok.
At this point I was down the stairs and setting the garbage bag down. Dad opened the door.
Dad: Oh, since you are already down there, why don't you put that insulation in the garbage bag for me.

I would have been more upset about the whole situation, except it was so smooth the way he got me to clean up the insulation. I also draw upon the lessons learned in that situation and apply them at work so that I can convince people to do work for me without them hating me at the same time.

There are so many stories I could tell about my Dad. The memories of going to town with him on a Saturday morning, riding around for hours on the tractor with him, the stories he would tell, and the things he taught me. The way he would marvel at the fact that my three brothers would always gang up on me and yet somehow I would be able to hold my own time and time again. But eventually when things got too rough for me I could always go to Dad and he would protect me from the evil siblings.

Happy Family Day Part 1 - The Grandparents.

My Grandma B died long before I was born, so I never got to meet her. I don't even really know that much about her. The only story I have ever heard about her was that when she cut bread she would put the loaf under her arm and saw away at it. She would always cut towards her chest, and my Mom would cringe at the thought of Grandma giving herself a mastectomy. After hearing this story, I always had a better understanding of the phrase "It's the greatest thing since sliced bread!"

I don't really know much about my Grandpa B either. We did not visit him very often. I remember one visit when I was three or four years old and I tried to go to the corner to pet his dog Tippy. Grandpa yelled at me. Although he was trying to prevent me from getting bitten, it was probably not one of the best things for him to do considering how timid I actually am. After that day I was always very scared of him and did not talk to him much. I do regret it, since I think he would have been a very interesting man to talk to.

I think it is Grandpa B's genes that have given me my love of music and musical talent. I do remember one time when he was down at our house, and he was sitting in a chair by the piano. I knew he liked music and would sometimes play his fiddle for me so I decided to play the piano for him. He really seemed to enjoy himself, but Dad wasn't enjoying it as much and told me to stop so I did.

Music was the biggest bond that Grandpa and I had. During Christmas of 1983 I was given the greatest gift I have ever been given. Grandpa never learned to read music, he only played by ear. At the age of 87 his memory of the songs was starting to go and people at the nursing home where he lived were complaining about his fiddle playing. He was asked to give up his fiddle. Since I was the grandchild who had learned music the most, he chose me to receive his most precious posession. I can still see the look of sadness and the tears that welled up in his eyes as he asked me if I would like to have his fiddle. In fact, as I write this I have a tear or two in my eyes as well. Once in a while I will pull the fiddle out and scratch out a tune or two on it in honour of him.

My Grandpa R passed away just before my second birthday so I do not have any memories of him either. But I see my Grandpa R every time I look in the mirror, since I look just like him. I even have his bad eyesight, too!

Grandma R was a beautiful lady. Back in October I dedicated a blog in memory of her, but I talked more about her death than her life. Grandma moved from Ireland to Canada in 1925. One night I managed to locate her immigration record in the Library and Archives Canada database. I wish I had been old enough to talk to her about her trip across the ocean to Canada and how she felt when she finally arrived and became a citizen. It could not have been easy for her, but she came here for a better life - one that was free from the war and poverty.

She made a wonderful life for herself, she married my Grandpa and had two children. Her house was always comfortable and full of laughter. She taught me many things, including proper manners and that I must always use them. I remember once that Grandma told me "When serving ones self, a proper lady will never scoop mashed potatoes from the centre of the bowl, always from the side." To this day when taking food out of a bowl to put on my plate, I always scoop from the side of the dish, never from the middle, and I always remember the day I learned that lesson.

One Christmas when I was visiting her, my cousin and I wanted to go up the street to the park to see the nativity scene. The park was beside a bridge that went over the river, and had a pedestrian bridge under it. I was instructed not to go under the bridge, but was not told the real reason why. I later learned that seedy people would hang out on the bridge at night doing whatever it is that seedy people do.

Of course when my cousin and I got to the nativity scene, I looked and could see no reason why I should not go under the bridge. I was part way across when my cousin looked at me and yelled "Mom's coming!" so I turned and started to run. I caught my toe, tripped, fell, and gouged my knee. The worst part was finding out that my cousin was just playing a joke on me, and Mom was no where in site. I got back to the house and Mom wasn't there, so I showed my wound to Grandma. The conversation went like this:
me: Grandma I tripped and fell and hurt myself.
Grandma: Goodness! Where did you do that?
me: At the park.
Grandma: You went under the bridge, didn't you.
me: yes
Grandma: what did your Mom tell you not to do?
me: Go under the bridge.
Grandma: Well, I won't punish you for going under the bridge. God has already punished you enough by making you fall and hurt yourself.
me: ok.

To this day I have the scar on my left knee. It is a reminder that there are always consequences to our actions, and it also reminds me that I should always listen to my Mother. And it reminds me of just how cool my Grandma was.

Happy Family Day!

Although this is the second year that we have had a statutory holiday in the middle of February, I am still not used to having it. My long weekend plans should have included a visit to my blood family, but instead I spent it with members of my urban family. I would like to say that I at least spent most of the day thinking about my family, but the reality is that I spent most of the day sleeping. So in an effort to assuage my guilty feelings about not celebrating my family, I will write a bit about them.

This started out as one big blog entry, but it turns out that my family is larger than I thought and the entry was getting too long. I am going to divide this up into a few sections - The Grandparents, The Parents, The Siblings, The Ones Who Call me Cool Aunt, and if time permits, the extended family.

Turkey Pot Pie Part Deux

Well, my turkey pot pie took three days to make, but I had no idea it would take me even longer to finish off the story. The rest of the story actually wasn't that exciting. I went to the store to purchase the remaining ingredients, brought them home, and finished up the pie.

There are two things I will do differently next time I make it. The recipe calls for adding frozen vegetables to the pie. Unfortunately Bisquick cooks much faster than frozen vegetables do which meant that although I had a beautiful golden crust on the top of my pie, I also had a patch of cold turkey, vegetables, and soup in the middle. Next time I will thaw the vegetables first before adding them.

I am used to eating Indian, Caribbean, and Thai food so my tastebuds are very adjusted to spicey food. The Turkey Pot Pie recipe had no spices listed in it, so I didn't add any. I have unofficially nicknamed that version of this recipe as "White Guy Pie". Next time I will add spices to the soup so that the pie won't be so bland.

Despite my complaints about the time taken to make the pie, the cold patch in the middle, and the lack of spice, I certainly will make the pie again. When you have all the ingredients, it is very quick and easy to make. Plus I got four nutritious meals out of it.

Turkey Pot Pie

I am finally feeling better, and for the most part my energy level has returned to normal. It's a good thing, since my house was becoming quite the mess and I was very tired of eating canned soup to stay alive. So on the weekend I decided to finally make the turkey pot pie that I had been planning to make for a while.

The sauga of the turkey pot pie begins a few Sundays ago when I was reading the back of the Bisquick box while waiting for some biscuits to bake. I found the pot pie recipe, and decided that I would head off to the store that afternoon. With a trusty list of ingredients in hand, I trudged through the snow to purchase the fixens for my pie. However, by the time I got back I didn't have the energy to make it that day.

My intention was to make the pie the next day, but after receiving an invite to Paul's house for supper I decided to wait until Tuesday. But then I invited myself over to Paul's on the Tuesday. After that, I knew that the likelihood of making the pie that week was nil, and since I was not willing to let good turkey breast go to waste I threw it in the freezer for the following weekend.

The following weekend was Paul's birthday, so I decided that the best present I could give him was to velcro myself to his couch for the weekend. Paul disagrees and is still waiting for a good present. In fact, his level of disagreement was so high that he fed me virus laiden chicken puri puri and virus laiden blueberry pancakes.

NB: This explains the two weeks of pain, suffering and general lack of energy that I just endured. I would be more upset, except the chicken puri puri and blueberry pancakes were quite tasty, and Paul was more sick than I was. And to be honest, I have my own house that I really should be spending more time at, so ultimately it is my own fault I got sick.

So on Sunday I was feeling much better and decided it would be a good day to cook the turkey pot pie, so I took the turkey out of the freezer to thaw. My intentions were good, but I wound up spending the day reading a book, and dug out a frozen bag of pasta and stored the turkey in my fridge.

Now that the turkey has been frozen, I had two choices: throw it out or cook it. I feel I am doing a complete disservice to the dead animal by throwing it out, so last night I finally battoned down the hatches and started to cook the pie. I knew going into it that I could not finish cooking the pie in one night, so last night's contribution consisted of eating the left over pasta followed by tossing the turkey into the oven.

Tonight I came home salivating like Pavlov's dogs at the prospect of fresh turkey pot pie. Recall that Sunday I was quite lazy, so the kitchen was a mess. A half hour of cleaning later, I pulled out my trusty knife and cutting board then proceeded to cube the turkey. I judged correctly, and had the requisite 2 cups of cubic meat all measured out.

The next stage consisted of mixing the turkey, vegetables, and a can of creamy chicken soup together for the base. The thought process went like this:
Pie plate - check!
Cubic turkey - check!
Cubic turkey in the pie plate - check!
Vegetables - check!
Can of creamy chicken soup
.
.
.
Can of creamy chicken soup
.
.
.
FRACK! I ate the creamy chicken soup while I was sick.

So in the end I wound up putting the turkey in a Ziploc bag, cleaned my kitchen a second time, and ate an All Bran Bar that I found while rumaging around my cupboard for the chicken soup.

Tomorrow night I will resume the great turkey pot pie adventure by purchasing the chicken soup. And after three days of waiting, this better be one damned good pie!

My Silence Will be Broken Soon....

I have been quite sick over the past few days. I will write more when I feel better. Keep checking in on me as I will have more adventures soon.....

Did you Ever Wonder What you Eat?

Part of changing my diet has included researching the nutritional value of the food I eat. The goal was to boost my immune system, so I started to research what foods will give me the "biggest bang for my buck", so to speak.

Now, don't get me wrong. I still love eat junk food - particularly if it is made of chocolate. I still eat it, too. Which means I love sugar and fat. Who doesn't love fat?!?

So my love of fat lead me to add cheese to my salads. Then one day I was in the store and thought "hmmmm, I wonder if I can substitute avocado in for cheese?". For me, it was all about taste, and since most food tastes better with fat in it, what better way to add fat to my salad than to add a fatty vegetable like avocado? My little experiment worked, avocado is quite possibly one of natures most perfect foods!

Aside from appealing to the side of me that loves fat, I figured that since it is a natural vegetable it must have other redeeming qualities like vitamins and minerals and stuff. So after supper I Googled the nutritional properties of avocado. In my search for this, I found the NutritionData Website.

This is one of the most useful and easy to use sites on nutrition that I have ever seen. It is not just about nuts and seeds and berries, it will give you information on all types of foods - chocolate included! It gives the nutrient and fat content of whatever food you select, plus different charts and indices. The information is based on the USDA database; I suggest you read the information contained in the "About Us" link at the bottom so that you understand where the data comes from, and how valid it is.

After reading the information on site, I learned that the avocado is more than just a tasty vegetable! It has a lot of highly nutritious properties as well. Check it out and see for yourself!

Happy New Year

Everyone who knows me well knows how much of a love-hate relationship I have with the dawning of a new year. I generally recycle the same resolution every year: "I'll just wing it and see what happens". But over the past couple years I have written a blog entry talking about what I was doing at the start of the year, and I am actually finding it very interesting to go back and read where I was before. This is where I was two years ago, and this is where I was one year ago.

I did not manage to keep the resolution of staying man free. It worked for about 6 months, then I started dating someone for about 4 months. But in the end my instincts told me to let him go, so I did. I'm still not sure if I am ready to have someone in my life right now, but perhaps it is because I am more comfortable in staying single than I am with being in a relationship.

So this year I am keeping with reusing the same resolution of just winging it and seeing what happens, but I have added an addendum to it. I have decided that as long as I feel I am better off now than I was a year ago, I can declare the year a success.

I can definitely declare last year a success. I made it through probation at my job, and I have settled in quite nicely there. I have amassed a lot of knowledge on the systems and processes, and I continue to learn new things every day. It is a very challenging job, but I look forward to going to work every day and at the end of the day I leave knowing that I accomplished something. I have built a great network of contacts, and made a few friends.

My last birthday in my 30's was fantastic! I gathered a group of great friends together to see Evil Dead the Musical and had an absolute blast! I hope the musical comes back to town again someday soon so that I can see it a third time.

The trip to China was probably one of the most incredible experiences I have ever had. So much so, that I really want to go back to see more of the country. In fact, you could spend your life touring China and never ever see everything there is to see. But I guess the same could be said of Canada, too.

I did say in last year's blog that anything after China would be anti-climatic. I did not know that it would be drama ridden. My doctor sent me to a specialist for a biopsy in September. The high point was finding out that the biopsy came back negative and I don't have cancer, but I have to be more careful now. I have taken the doctor's words to heart and have tried to eat better and sleep better. I have cut back on how much I go out, and have more strict rules about going out on week nights. I am cooking more and using ingredients from scratch. I still have a tendency to fall asleep on the couch instead of going to bed at a decent hour.

My friends continue to be a large part of my life. I seem to velcro myself to Paul's couch on a regular basis, whether he likes it or not. Lisa still gets me to go to soca fetes when there is something good, and we get together for lunches on an irregular basis.

There were also a lot of get togethers with my other friends. December 19 was the most recent gathering of the crew for a bit of Holiday Cheer. It was a blast to hang out with Trish, Paul, John, Jeremy, Greg, Chris, and Kevin. Although the sketchiness of my recollection of the night's events coincides directly with Kevin's purchase of a couple of rounds of tequila shots. Many thanks to John for convincing me to crash at his place for the night. You were right, it was the better option.

Now as I finish off this entry, here are a few of the things I have to look forward to for 2009:
1. Running my first 5K (ok, the resolution run did not happen, more on that kerfuffle later).
2. My first birthday in my 40's.
3. Making it through my next biopsy and hoping the results come back favourable.
4. Running the Terry Fox Run.
5. Redoing my upstairs bathroom.
6. Going to a country I have not been to before. I'm thinking along the lines of a cruise in the Baltic Sea, but nothing is etched in stone yet.

So I guess in summary, my focus this year will be on my health since I don't have a lot of choice in the matter. I am very optimistic about the year to come, and certainly hope that I end this year better off than I started it. But even if it turns out the same, it will be a pretty good year.

Things to do When it is Freakin Cold Out There

I have FINALLY started to sort all my Beijing photos from the trip now that it is freakin cold outside! I happened upon this photo which gave me a bit of a chuckle.

A Tribute to my Longest Friendship

Today while bustling about the internet I found my grade 1 class photo online. I am in the back row, 5th from the left in the red dress.

It was grade 1 that I learned "The Pancake Song" for Shrove Tuesday. Every time I make pancakes for my nephews and niece I torture them with the song.

But the fondest memory I have from grade 1 is the first day of school. Mrs. Wallace was taking attendence and got to the bottom of the list. She looked up and around, and said "The little Cole girl is not here." Mere seconds after she said that, there was a knock on the door and a little girl was standing there with her Mom. Mrs. Wallace spoke to the Mom, welcomed the little girl into the class, and introduced her as Mary, the new student who would be joining our class. More than 33 years later I am still talking to that little girl, and she has the claim to fame of sharing my longest standing friendship with me.

I'm not sure how we became friends, or stayed friends for so long. Mary is very quiet and follows the rules almost to a "T". I am more outgoing and have a tendency to re-word the rules to suit my needs. That's not to say I do anything illegal, I just push the boundaries out as far as I can and hope I don't get caught. Of course, there were times in elementary school that I pushed the boundaries too far. Mary was my sidekick, and I was the reason that Mary served detentions in elementary school.

I straightened up quite a bit when I went to high school, and we got into a lot less trouble. But I still managed to force her to push her boundaries. Like the time we went to the fair, got some helium balloons, breathed in the gas and talked with those crazy funny voices. Immediately after, I forced her to go on a ride. I'm not sure if it was the helium, the bacteria ridden fair food, or the ride, but within seconds of getting off she puked. In an effort to hide my laughter, I ran off to get some napkins so that she could clean herself up. It was the least I could do for her.

She and I had lunch recently and reminisced about the time we were bored, decided to buy a coconut, drove to a shopping mall parking lot, sat in the middle of a parking space and tried to open it in front of a little crowd that gathered to watch what we were doing. I also reminded her of the time I was driving her Dad's car and almost rolled it - Volkswagen Rabbits don't corner well at 50 km/h!

At the end of high school most people go off to different schools and lose touch with their friends over time. Mary and I were both accepted into the Science Faculty at University of Waterloo and our paths stayed crossed for a while longer. We were roommates for first year and half of second year. Every night we did not have class we would de-stress by watching Jeopardy and keeping score. I think she won more than me, but its hard to remember now.

I was her maid of honour at her wedding, she was a bridesmaid in mine. I visited her in the hospital after the birth of her first child. She was at the funeral when my Dad passed away. She offered condolences when she learned that I was getting a divorce.

Though we are not as close as we used to be, our friendship has withstood all that time has thrown at us. She remained in the town where we first met while I packed my bags and moved off to the bright lights of the big city. Although our lives are very different, we still share a common childhood and a common bond. We can go for months, perhaps even years without speaking to each other, then get together for lunch as if it was yesterday since we last saw each other.

Tomorrow is a very special day. Tomorrow is Mary's 40th birthday and I want to take this opportunity to remind her that I am still in my 30's (Sorry Mary, I just had to get a jab in there somewhere!)

But I really want to say thank you for always being there for me during good and bad, for adding a perspective that is different from my own, and for ensuring that I did not serve as many detentions in elementary school as I could have.

Have a very special Happy 40th Birthday, Mary!