Merry Christmas

"It comes every year and will go on forever. And along with Christmas belong the keepsakes and the customs. Those humble, everyday things a mother clings to, and ponders, like Mary in the secret spaces of her heart."
~ Marjorie Holmes

It is approaching 3:00 o'clock on Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year. The table is set for our red and white Canadian themed Christmas. The beets, carrots, parsnips and onions have been prepared for roasting. The brussel sprouts are washed and waiting to be steamed in orange juice and orange zest. All the gifts are wrapped in red and white paper and ribbons. And I am about to slip into a hot bath before I dress to greet our family for dinner. We are a small group again this year - just ten. Cath and Stan, Marg and Bob, Gail and Frank, and Nancy will join Merv, Jacob and I for our annual Christmas Eve dinner. I'm usually a bit stressed around this time but today, I am not. It feels easy this year. I decided to set the table last night which gave me an extra hour or so this morning.

I usually plan my table far in advance but this year I didn't even settle on the table gifts until the day before yesterday. I struggled to put my finger on something that would suit my red and white Canadian theme. In the end, I bought big fat, chocolate-filled candy canes and Tim Horton's gift cards. I used my Christmas china and crystal, red tablecloth and white poinsettia napkins and Gail sent a bouquet of white freesia and pine. The table looks pretty.

Though Jacob is grown, I find myself unable to let go of those Christmas traditions I started when he was small. So this afternoon I'll put Jacob's new pajamas on his bed and sometime late tonight when all the guests have gone I will put out Merv's and Jacob's stockings which I have already filled. Then I'll slip into my new Christmas pajamas, pour myself a glass of wine and watch It's a Wonderful Life for the fiftieth time. I love Christmas.

Purely Happy

Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.
- Buddha

Our Christmas trees have been up for two weeks now. The foyer has been decorated in the red and white of this year's Canadian Christmas theme. Santa is standing at the base of the stairs. But it wasn't until Jacob arrived just before six last night that it finally felt like Christmas. I wasn't sure I would be able to stop hugging him. He indulged me with great patience. Once I was finally able to let go, our conversation turned to the odors wafting from the kitchen. Jacob was salivating. Before heading out for a meeting at the clinic yesterday, I put a host of beef ribs in the slow cooker and left them to cook in a concoction of dark beer, chili sauce, beef broth and maple syrup. I made the recipe up on the fly. The result was yummy. When I got home, I made a huge pot of mashed potatoes and steamed some vegetables. I was putting the finishing touches on dinner when he arrived.

Though his hair is longer than mine, he still looks great. There are moments though, when I hardly recognize the man who is my child. He has a cool confidence about him that I haven't seen before. It becomes him.

Though I hated to ask him for a favor so close to his arrival, I found myself having to ask for his assistance with an IT problem we were having at the clinic. The problem required a fast intervention. "No problem", he said and so this afternoon we spent a half hour at WTCLS where he solved our problem in pretty short order. Our day together has been easy, the rhythm of our companionship comfortable. I almost forgot how much I enjoy his company. The house feels full. I am purely happy.

Two More Sleeps

“Human beings are the only creatures on earth that allow their children to come back home.” - Bill Cosby

Two more exams. Two more sleeps. Two more days. Jacob will be home on Wednesday. I haven't seen him for three weeks. I miss him so much that today I feel like I can hardly breathe. I've been counting the days for weeks now. He is counting the hours. Fifty-two hours. Feels like an eternity.

Tomorrow I will go to the grocery store and buy all his favorites. Wednesday morning I will start cooking up a storm. I plan to wait on him hand and foot the whole time he's home. Jonathan will be home on Saturday. Sara will be home next week but only for one night before she leaves for a family vacation so I won't see her until after Christmas. I don't know when my other kids will be home but I trust they will all converge on our house. So the next few weeks will bring a lot of work, noise and mess. I can hardly wait.

A Christmas Wish from a Left-Wing Pinko Kook

“So let us begin anew - remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof.” - John Fitzgerald Kennedy

It is Christmastime - you know, a time of goodwill and peace. A time to embrace your neighbours and set aside the grievances of the past year. And I hope, a time to turn down the hateful rhetoric which is filling our air waves and newspaper columns each day of late. This left-wing pinko kook is making a plea for civility.

On Tuesday, Don Cherry, Canadian hockey broadcasting icon was the special guest of Rob Ford at Mr. Ford's mayoral inauguration. A lot of people were a bit surprised by Don Cherry as the choice of who would have the honour of hanging the chain of office around the new mayor's neck. Cherry isn't a resident of Toronto and while he fancies himself a political pundit, he has no expertise in the political arena. His clearly right-wing and often hateful statements have shocked and upset people across the country for years. The Globe and Mail and the Toronto Star both took positions that called upon Mr. Ford to choose someone who would bring dignity to the occasion, but Mr. Ford was not persuaded. Unless you have been living under a rock these past few days, you are aware of the hateful diatribe Mr. Cherry unleashed when he took the microphone to introduce Rob Ford. Calling the press, those who did not support Mr. Ford and those who have a different view of the needs of our city, a brunch of pinkos and left-wing kooks, Mr. Cherry helped to widen the chasm between city councillors on the left and those on the right. He caused deep offense to many of the city's citizenry, me included. How dare Don Cherry characterize me as a pinko kook because I disagree with him politically.

Not that it will ever happen, but Mr. Cherry owes all the citizens of Toronto an apology. So does Mayor Ford. Though I do not have a public platform from which to espouse my views, I too have done some name calling of Mr. Cherry and Mr. Ford these past couple of days. All of my name choices have been related to anatomical actions and parts. And at the moments I used them, those names gave me a little release of my anger. But, of course, it did nothing to improve the situation.

I wish there was some way to call everyone together and hammer out an agreement that would result in some civility. We have real problems in this city, real challenges ahead. We need to talk. We need to work together. We need to find a better way. Enough of the hateful rhetoric. I'll try if they will.

Black Dora

Dogs are miracles with paws.
~Attributed to Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy

On the day I said goodbye to Dora I asked her to send us a little black version of herself for her humans to adopt when the time seemed right. I didn't want another small white pup because I didn't want to feel like we were replacing Dora. I believed from her vantage point in heaven, Dora could bring the right puppy into our lives - my role, of course, only as aunt; Brian and Geraldine as parents.

A couple of months after Dora passed, Geraldine decided she was ready. She wanted a new puppy. It had to be a rescue dog, had to be small, female and non-shedding and housebroken and it couldn't be either too young or too old or be suffering any serious health issues. Ger didn't know how to find this dog but knew the sources to do so are on the internet. Ger can't operate a computer. So the job of finding a dog fell to me.

There are hundreds of dogs looking for homes available for rescue within the Toronto region. I looked at about two hundred of them before showing a cute little pup named Sophie to Geraldine. Sophie was being fostered near Niagara Falls. Her foster mother, a cop, met Brian and Geraldine in Grimsby so they could meet her. Brian liked her a lot. Geraldine didn't feel a bond. For the next few days they agonized. Geraldine was worried that if they didn't take her, Sophie wouldn't find a home. Brian wanted her and Ger was ready to take her though she didn't feel the connection. I stepped in. Sophie would find a home. She wasn't the right one. So one Sunday evening I looked at another eight hundred dogs. Then I came upon a black version of Dora. She is two years old, healthy, handed over to a shelter by her owners who apparently had an allergic child. She is being sheltered in Northern Quebec though a Brampton based rescue agency is brokering her adoption. She's adorable. Oh, did I mention...her name is Dora.

Ger still couldn't decide. She was worried about Sophie. When she called the adoption agency about Sophie, she was told Sophie had been placed in a new home and was no longer available. Ger was free to adopt Dora without guilt. Adopting a rescue dog is an arduous process. There were application papers to file and contracts to sign. Most of the process was done on line which means of course, I did it. The fees were sent to the shelter in Quebec and the wait began. It took almost two weeks. On Thursday we got the word. Everything had been processed. The adoption was finalized.

Dora will make the long trek from Northern Quebec (about eleven hours away) to Toronto on December 20. She will be welcomed into the arms and hearts of her new humans. Ger will give her a warm bath and comfy bed. I can hardly wait to meet her.

Glitter and Glue

“The greatness of a craft consists firstly in how it brings comradeship to men.”
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

A couple of days ago Cath sent me an email from Martha Stewart Crafts. It was a how-to-guide to make glittering seashell ornaments. Cath wanted them but wondered if the required skill was beyond her grasp. I had to laugh. Unless I was missing something, it looked to me like a simple craft of glitter and glue - sort of like a more sophisticated version of a kindergarten activity. I watched the video and sent Cath a note. I would pick up the glitter and look for seashells. And Cath would come over for the evening and together we would create glittering seashells, Martha Stewart style. I called Geraldine and asked if she wanted to join us.

So for two and a half hours last night, we drank wine and played. Watching Cath and Ger provided me with some of the best entertainment I've had in a long time. They had so much fun making their ornaments that I don't even mind that my kitchen floor is covered in fine glittering powder that I'll probably still be seeing evidence of next year.

After they left, I sent a text message to Jacob. I was less than happy to hear that he has picked up another bug. He starts writing exams on Monday. I admire how hard he has been working these last months but as predicted, his body was bound to revolt against too little rest and too little food. I offered to bring him home for the weekend but he insists he will muddle through. With less than two weeks until he is home for the holidays, I suppose we both will.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ~Norman Vincent Peale

The start of the month of December means I can go full force in decorating for Christmas. A few items have been creeping into the decor for the last week but I somehow didn't feel I could really go all out before today. At some point this afternoon I will take the ladder into the back storage room and take down the pine garland so I can wrap the bannister. I'll also take a trip to Canadian Tire to buy some red lights for my red and white, Canadian Christmas theme this year. I have just about every other colour but not red. I'll take out my Christmas towels and all my angels and the big Santa. It's all very exciting.

Last year when I was putting all the decorations away, I lost my favorite pair of glasses. I had presumed they would turn up but they never did. I'm hoping that they'll show up in a box of Christmas decorations. In a week or two, Merv will go out and buy the trees. He'll probably wait until Jacob comes home on the 15th.

I'm extremely behind in my shopping this year. I've done the girls and my shelter family but I have nothing for Merv or Jacob, Stan or Bob. The men are hard. They don't need anything and don't seem to long for anything. We will give Jacob money, his favorite gift, but I still need to find some treasures to put under the tree for Christmas morning. Perhaps tomorrow I will make a trek out to the Tommy Bahama outlet store and see if I can find a deal on jeans. He likes Tommy jeans. I'll also keep my eyes out for a couple of great shirts. A trip to the liquor store is also in order. He likes branded beer glasses and there are usually some beer glass gift packs available at this time of the year. As for his dad, I haven't got a clue. Suggestions anyone?

Another Visit

“Love is born with the pleasure of looking at each other, it is fed with the necessity of seeing each other, it is concluded with the impossibility of separation.” - Anon

Last Sunday I asked Jacob if he thought he could fit in lunch or a cup of coffee sometime during the week. I was prepared to change whatever plans I had to spend even an hour with him. He said he would look at his schedule and get back to me. When he hadn't gotten back by Wednesday, I decided to take charge. I called and asked him if he could make Friday work. He said that would be great. So yesterday I went to Guelph. I phoned Nan in the morning and asked her if she would like to join me. She was pleased at the prospect of a couple of hours with Jacob. I baked a batch of brownies and headed to the grocery store to pick up a few treats. Six bags of groceries later, I was ready.

Jacob was supposed to meet me at his house at two o'clock. When I called to tell him I was two minutes away, he advised he had sent a text message letting me know he couldn't get home for two o'clock. So we agreed instead to meet at Montana's. He was happy to see his Aunt Nan and allayed any concerns we might have about large portions at the restaurant by assuring us he would take home all our leftovers and enjoy them later in the day. When checking my blackberry in the restaurant I also saw that he had sent a note requesting that I bring his ugly sweater to him. Jacob was planning to attend an ugly sweater party on Friday evening and he wanted the very ugly sweater he bought for a party last year. Unfortunately, he sent that message after I was already on the road so I did not bring the sweater. No problem. I offered to take him to buy another ugly sweater and he happily accepted my offer so after lunch we were off to Value Village.

I had never been to a Value Village before. it is quite an interesting shopping experience. True there is some real junk but for a careful shopper, there are also some real treasures. Jacob was successful in finding a really hideous sweater. Nancy found a couple of orphan bone china saucers that will be great for her mosaics and I found a beautiful and unusual creamer and sugar set that I could not resist. Jacob also scored a Guinness beer glass to add to his beer glass collection.

After Value Village we made a quick stop at Fabricland where Nan found the fabric she has been unsuccessful in getting in Toronto. I took Jacob home, unloaded the groceries while he gave his Aunt Nan a tour of his house and it was time to go. I'm still not good at goodbye. But I felt considerably better after a couple of hours with him. I wonder if I'll ever get good at being apart from him.

Pricilla

Together we will go our way, together we will leave some day.

Together your hand in my hand, together we will make the plans.

Together we will fly so high, together tell our friends goodbye.

Together we will start life new, together this is what we'll do.

Go west, life is peaceful there.

Go west, lots of open air.

Go west to begin life new.

Go west, this is what we'll do.

Go west, sun in winter time.

Go west, we will do just fine.

Go wes t where the skies are blue.

Go west, this and more we'll do.

Together we will love the beach, together we will learn and teach.

Together change our pace of life, together we will work and strive.

I love you, I know you love me; I want you happy and carefree.

So that's why I have no protest when you say you want to go west.

Go west, life is peaceful there.

Go west, lots of open air.

Go west to begin life new.

Go west, this is what we'll do.

Go west, sun in winter time.

Go west, we will do just fine.

Go west where the skies are blue.

Go west, this and more we'll do.

I know that there are many ways to live there in the sun or shade.

Together we will find a place to settle down and live with the space

without the busy pace back east, the hustling, rustling of the feet,

I know I'm ready to leave too, so this is what we're going to do,

Go west, life is peaceful there.

Go west, lots of open air.

Go west to begin life new.

Go west, this is what we'll do.

Go west, sun in winter time.

Go west, we will do just fine.

Go west where the skies are blue.

Go west, this and more we'll do.

- Village People - Go West 12 Mix lyrics

Pricilla Queen of the Desert is playing at the Princess of Wales and Merv and I attended on Friday night as part of our Mirvish subscription package. It is a laugh-out-loud, feel good production. Pure fun. I had heard that the audience for Pricilla was as crazy as the show with a spectacle of cross-dressing queens but I saw nothing but a lot of dull, mostly middle aged theatre goers on Friday night. Pricilla is on until November 28 and is worth the price of a ticket if you are just looking for some fun. Be forewarned, the show is for mature audiences.

It was a good way to inject some relaxation into an otherwise hectic week that included taking my mom for her quarterly gynecology appointment as well as working with Nan to get ready for and set up the Fall Fair at mom's nursing home. As usual it was chaos and I left at the end of the sale yesterday feeling exhausted.

Today I will make a short visit to my mom, who is suffering from a bad cold and has been confined to her room. Her unit is on lockdown following a respiratory outbreak. I will bring some melon and try to make some connection but I'm not hopeful that I will be able to engage her very much today. She didn't lift her head at all when I saw her yesterday and she was oblivious to my presence. When I finish at mom's I will head over to a friend's surprise 64th birthday party. His wife believes he hasn't got a clue and I hope she is right.

A Silver Elephant

“It’s a shallow life that doesn’t give a person a few scars.” – Garrison Keillor

I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time. Five years in fact. Five years ago today, I had my first surgery for breast cancer. I was scared, as much for my family as myself. Jacob was just fourteen. He hadn’t taken my diagnosis well. Merv looked like a deer in the headlights. Cath and Nan were working hard to hide their devastation but had no success in fooling me.

I remember getting out of bed that morning, having hardly slept, filled with anxiety. I was required to be at the hospital early and the sun was just rising in the sky. While dressing I spoke quietly to my dad and asked him to watch over Jacob and my sisters. When I stepped into the foyer, I was startled to see that the stairs were covered with rainbows, an interaction between the rising sun and the crystal chandelier. My dad has sent me many rainbows over the years since he passed away. I was especially grateful for the rainbows that morning.

It was a long day at the hospital. But at the end of it I was optimistic. I came home, spent a couple of days reading and watching TV and went back to work. The surgeon was confident the cancer hadn’t spread to my nodes and a few rounds of radiation would be all that came next. Unfortunately, he was wrong. My pathology samples went missing after surgery and it was four weeks before I got the news. The cancer had reached my lymph nodes. I would require more surgery to be sure it hadn’t spread beyond the five nodes which had been taken and to assure clearance of the margins around the tumor. Surgery would be followed by four months of chemo and a month of daily radiation.

The day I received that news was followed by the longest, darkest night of my life. The biggest part of my angst was directed toward the impact of my illness on Jacob. If I didn’t make it, I figured, Merv would be single for about two weeks (and that was okay with me) but Jacob would be motherless all of his life and I could hardly bear to think of it. I also didn’t know how I was going to get through so much treatment. I didn’t want the pain. Didn’t want to feel sick. Didn’t want the fatigue. Didn’t want to be bald. I couldn’t sleep. Neither could Merv. Sometime in the night when we both thought the other was asleep, we figured out that we were in fact both awake. I told Merv how scared I was. He held me tight and let me cry.

Eventually the sun rose and so did I. Life went on. There was still work to be done. My company was in the middle of a union organizing campaign. Jacob still needed to be taken to school. Dinner still had to find its way to the table that night. I thought a lot about how I would find the resources to get through the next months. It all seemed like so much. So, I told myself that getting through cancer treatment is like eating an elephant. It is possible to eat an elephant. You just have to eat it one bite at a time. With my limited artistic skills, I drew an elephant in pencil on a sheet of paper and put it on my desk. In the months that followed, I erased a little bit of that elephant after every treatment. On July 21, 2006 it had vanished. I had eaten the elephant.

My second surgery in January 2006, showed no more evidence of cancer. So November 9, 2005, the day of my first surgery, had indeed been the day I became cancer free. The five year mark in cancer speak has some significance. I don’t know the reason why but when survival statistics are quoted, they are usually for the five year survival rate. I remember something else about that November morning. I promised myself that if I made it, I would honour my victory with a celebration on November 9, 2010.

Tonight Merv and I will share dinner with our family. Unfortunately Jacob won’t be able to join us but we will dine with Cath and Stan, Nan, Marg and Bob and Geraldine and Brian. Gail is away at school and Frank teaches on Tuesday nights so they too will be missing from the dinner table. We’re going to Cath’s. I will bring the champagne I’ve been saving. It will be a quiet evening spent just the way I wanted – with the people I love.

I did decide to mark this milestone for myself with a little gift. I bought a silver Pandora bracelet. Hanging from its center is a shiny silver elephant.

Wonderfully Wicked

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I am defying gravity
And you wont bring me down!

- Lyrics of Defying Gravity from Wicked

Amazing. Enthralling. Engaging. Uplifting. I loved Wicked. For our anniversary in August, Merv gave me a pair of tickets for last night's performance of Wicked at the Canon Theatre. The three hour performance went by in a flash. It is by far the best musical I've seen in a decade.

Wicked is the story of what happened before Dorothy went to Oz and what happened in Oz when she left. It was funny and heartwarming. The music is sensational. The performers were first-rate. We had seats in the front row of the balcony which is the most perfect vantage point from which to see all the action that's continually happening on stage. The scenery was amazing and the staging was complex. The actor who played the role of the Wicked Witch of the West, Elpheba, was the understudy but I can't imagine anyone could have performed it better.

The Toronto tour ends on November 28. This is one show not to miss.

Addressing Parliament (Sort Of)

“Compassion is not religious business, it is human business, it is not luxury, it is essential for our own peace and mental stability, it is essential for human survival.” - Dalai Lama

A couple of weeks ago I was contacted by an old friend, Harry van Bommel about speaking at a Round Table meeting hosted by Michelle Simson, Member of Parliament for Scarborough Southwest. Michelle Simson heads up the Parliamentary Committee on Palliative and Compassionate Care. Those Members of Parliament who make up the committee have been hosting Round Table meetings across the country to hear the voices of Canadians who wish to say something about palliative and compassionate care in this country. Most of those who have spoken are members of health agencies or are health care professionals. I wasn't sure what I could contribute to the dialogue, but I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to speak to a Parliamentary Committee so I accepted the invitation. This morning I made my presentation.

The Round Table was held at the Warden Woods Community Centre at Warden, south of St. Clair. There weren't a lot of people there but about thirty community members attended. Each round table speaker was granted twelve minutes in which to make a presentation. There were two separate groups. The first was comprised of health care workers and agency staff. The second, in which I was a member, was comprised of people who were addressing compassionate and palliative care issues from a more personal perspective. All presentations were recorded for submission to the committee and the recording will become a part of the Parliamentary record.

I was the second speaker in my group which started with a woman speaking about her experience as the mother of a fifteen year old son who committed suicide. She was very brave. As she became more emotional in her presentation, I watched the faces in the room. Most everyone was crying. I was trying hard to keep myself in check and trying hard to figure out a way to support her as she struggled to keep going. She gave us all a great deal to think about. When she was finished, it was my turn. I spoke of my experiences as a patient who dealt with breast cancer, my perceptions of the business challenges in dealing with critically ill workers and our need for sustainable funding in running Willow. Twelve minutes went by in a flash. I was followed by a dentist who spoke of the need for compassionate dental care for the aged and then a woman who talked about her experience in watching her elderly parents die. The last speaker on our panel was Harry. He was, as usual, brilliant. Harry has written a whole lot of books, many of them on the topic of palliative care. I could have listened to him all day.

I feel very honoured to have been a part of this day. If I could figure out how, I would attach a copy of my presentation to this blog but I haven't got a clue. So if you want to see it, just ask and I'll email you a copy. I understand that the photographs taken this morning should be posted on Michelle Simson's website this afternoon. If you are interested you can see them at www.michellesimsonmp.ca

All Treats, No Tricks

When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween.
~Author Unknown

My Halloween treat came today - a couple of hours spent with Jacob. He has been terribly busy these past couple of weeks, completely tied up with mid-term tests and assignments. Nonetheless, he did agree to find a couple of hours this afternoon to share lunch and a chat.

Before I hit the 401, I stopped at the grocery store to supplement the treats and gifts I had already packed into my car. I had earlier bought some Halloween candy for him to eat - a yard of licorice, gummy brains and candy covered sunflower seeds. While at the grocery store, I picked up a box of chocolate bars he could distribute to the neighbourhood kids on Halloween night, a large box of sushi for his dinner tonight, some souvlaki pork steaks, apple juice, rice crispy treats, soup and a crate of clementine oranges. He was very pleased. I gave him the small gifts we brought for him from New York and the mail that has been piling up for him since Thanksgiving.

We went to Montana's for lunch and sat in the bar. Though not really hungry, I ordered a large lunch after Jacob suggested that he would eat whatever I did not, if not at the restaurant but as a snack late tonight. He told me he has been working until three o'clock every morning and has finally taken up drinking coffee in order to function in the eight thirty classes that start his every school day. He is exhausted but can't stop now. He has two mid-term tests and seven major assignments due next week. His last mid-term test is on November 9, he just has to hang on until then. He is young. He'll manage.

After lunch we stopped at the Metro store for a few additional supplies - a few more boxes of Halloween treats for Sunday, a few bottles of Coke, a birthday cake and candles for one of his roommates who turned nineteen today but who will be writing a mid-term until eight thirty tonight and another first thing tomorrow morning. It's a lousy way to spend a milestone birthday, but at least there will be some acknowledgment of her special day.

I dropped him off and though I tried, I didn't do as good a job at hiding my tears as I usually do. Oh well. Misty eyes are hardly the worst thing. At least there were no great wracking sobs.

A Sad Day for Toronto

"The problem with political jokes is they get elected." ~Henry Cate, VII

Since six minutes after eight o'clock I've been trying not to toss my dinner. That was the moment CTV declared Rob Ford the winner in the Toronto mayoral election. I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.

What does it say about a city of three million people that would choose a red-necked buffoon as it's mayor? This man, who is now our mayor stood up in front of our city of immigrants, the most multi-cultural city in the world, and stated that he wanted to bar immigrants from moving into the city. This man denied he had been arrested for driving under the influence and possession of marijuana until the Toronto Star showed the proof. Then he claimed he had simply forgotten about the problem. Scary. This man presented a financial plan that every analyst said was extremely flawed and implausible. And yet, tonight he became our mayor.

George Smitherman's fate was sealed yesterday when unknown persons funded an ad campaign on a Tamil radio program suggesting that Tamils should not vote for him because he is gay. At the same time, posters were being put up in Islamic areas suggesting that Muslims should not vote for him either as homosexuality is an affront to Allah. The radio station pulled the ads and the posters were taken down. But every news report last night featured the smear as the lead story. Mission accomplished. Every homophobic bigot who didn't know George Smitherman is a gay man, now knew. And that was the end of George.

Rob Ford will make Mel Lastman look like a gentle diplomat. The rest of the country won't laugh at us because we called in the army to clear the snow. They will laugh at us because a red-necked clown will be at the helm of the largest city in the country. God help us.

A Changing Landscape

"Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. "
--Stanley Horowitz

When we left for New York last week, the ravine was crimson. The shock of red leaves outshone all the rest of the colours in the ravine. When we returned, the red leaves had all fallen. What was left was an expanse of gold. I enjoyed the tremendous beauty of that golden ravine all day yesterday. I didn't realize it would last such a short time. This morning, the leaves that are left, are no longer golden. They are a brilliant orange. Simply stunning.

I expect there are few days left to enjoy this autumn view. Each breeze brings a shower of falling leaves past my window. I know the beauty of this season will be replaced by the beauty of the next. Still, I wish I could hang on to this one for a little longer.

I've been remembering the morning that the leaves unfurled last spring when I was driven to capturing the wonder of the ravine in a creation of green pearls. I thought about doing the same yesterday in something with a golden hue but I don't have stones in my inventory that serve as a good reflection of a golden ravine. Today will be different. I do have some strands of orange pearls that will work as a perfect reflection of this day's wonder.

A Nibble of the Big Apple

“They say life's what happens when you're busy making other plans. But sometimes in New York, life is what happens when you're waiting for a table.”
- Sarah Jessica Parker

Merv and I returned this afternoon from a long weekend in New York where we had a lot of fun engaging in a small sampling of the enormous buffet the city offers. Our 4:15 flight on Thursday afternoon left a little later than scheduled and we flew straight through a storm. The flight was less than comfortable. When we landed the pilot said, "Well folks, the flight wasn't pretty but at least I got you here safely." It certainly wasn't pretty. Upon arriving at La Guardia, we waited more than thirty minutes for a cab into the city and we crawled the whole way through a steady, though not heavy rain, arriving at our hotel at 7:20, just forty minutes until the curtain rose on Chicago which we had tickets for that night. The front desk told us getting a cab was hopeless so after taking five minutes to change our clothes, we ran the twelve blocks to the theater through a storm that had moved from a steady drizzle to a tsunami, me in my three inch heals. Somehow though, we made it, drenched to the skin but on time. Chicago was wonderful.

Friday was a day spent in exploration, wandering the streets, shopping and soaking up the ambiance of the city. We gave ourselves enough time to change our clothes and enjoy cocktails before catching a cab to the theater. Try as we may, there were no cabs to be found. A limosine driver offered us a lift for a fee of $20 for what was essentially a $7 cab ride. We jumped at the offer. My feet were so sore from the miles of walking we had done that day that I would have paid him $50. That night we saw Thirty-Nine Steps, a bit like Monty Python does Alfred Hitchcock. It was very clever and very funny. Four cast members play dozens of roles in one production.

Saturday was our day for touring. We started with an elevator ride to the top of the Rock. Then did the hop-on hop-off bus tour of downtown Manhattan, taking in the sites from Times Square to Chinatown, Central Park to 5th Avenue. Dinner that night was at a Zaggat rated steakhouse called Rotthman's. The portions were obscenely large but the food was divine. By 10:00 P.M. we were stuffed, exhausted and ready to crash.

This morning we enjoyed a couple of hours of walking through Central Park, Times Square and 5th Avenue. Then it was off to the airport for a 2:30 flight which thankfully was considerably less eventful than the one that brought us to New York.

It has been about thirteen years since I was last there. A lot has changed in these years. The city is amazingly clean. The police presence is enormous. There is less visible homelessness and the panhandlers are quiet and not aggressive. New Yorkers seemed more polite than in past visits. Some things did not change. New Yorkers seem to think traffic lights are a suggestion. The noise is overwhelming. The costs are high. The traffic is terrible.

There is a good energy in the city. And it sure is a fun place to spend a weekend.

A Grateful Heart

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice." ~Meister Eckhart

Jacob is home. The kids gathered at our house last night. The ravine is crimson. My heart is overflowing with gratitude. Later today Merv, Jacob and I will head over to the Moore's for the first of our Thanksgiving dinners this weekend. Last year was the first time we celebrated the holiday with Jonathan's family. We had a wonderful time and are so pleased to be joining them again this year.

If I started right now, I doubt I would have the time to count my many blessings before our second Thanksgiving dinner at Cath's on Monday. I live a life of bounty - family who are the best friends - friends who are family in every way but blood - a beautiful home - health - meaningful work...

No matter how long the list, I will be taking time this weekend to reflect on blessings both large and small. I hope you will take the time to do the same. And when I count my many blessings, you can know with certainty, I will be counting you.

Incredible Luck

"Good luck needs no explanation." - Shirley Temple Black

Eat to the Beat was a success. It was really fun to spend time with family and friends indulging in the delicious offerings of sixty talented female chefs. I was thrilled at my incredible luck in securing the winning bid at half the retail rate for a pink Kitchen Aid mixer that I've been coveting for the past five years. Little did I know, even more luck was coming my way.

I sold about forty of the one thousand tickets for tonight's raffle. I bought three. My sister Cathy really wanted the grand prize - a trip for two to an all inclusive resort in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. So at draw time, I moved close to the front and silently sent a plea to the universe that Cath's name was the one called. But it was not. Mine was. Needless to say, I sent up a large whoop and ran up to the stage. I simply can't believe I won. Before we even got home, I was dreaming of feeling the sun on my shoulders. I'm tired. I can use a week in the sun. Mexico would not be my destination of choice - I've been there a couple of dozen times but I can't argue about the price. Mexico will do just fine.

At the end of the evening, I met a group of five women. One of them recognized me as the grand prize winner. They noticed my Board member ID and asked me why I am involved with Willow. I explained that I know first hand how important the work is that we do at Willow and that it is my privilege to serve on the Board. One of the women asked me if she was understanding correctly that I am a breast cancer survivor. I said that in fact I am a breast cancer thriver. For some reason, she became emotional about that. She embraced me and they all wished me well. They told me that they felt honoured to have met me. Of all the things I won tonight, that felt like the best prize of all.

Think Pink

"The spirit of the Run lives all year long.
When we wake up each day.
When we reach out our hands.
When we love and laugh.
When our hearts fill with hope.
Together, we can create a future without breast cancer."

That little blurb was printed on the tag attached to the pink candle I was handed when I crossed the finish line at the Run for the Cure yesterday. It was a kind gesture made to those who crossed the finish line wearing the pink shirts that mark survivorship. Yesterday's event was a resounding financial success. More than 20,000 registered participants in Toronto, raised more than $5 million. The event was held simultaneously in 60 communities across the country resulting in a national fundraising total in excess of $33 million. Though there were 20,000 registered Toronto participants, the numbers of people who turned out seemed considerably smaller. It could have been related to the frosty weather conditions that greeted us in the morning or the dearth of parking that was available in the temporary venue at the U of T. Nonetheless, the crowd was animated and enthusiastic and visibly greater measures were taken to recognize and honour survivors. Not that surviving isn't honour enough.

Tomorrow I will attend Willow's signature fundraising event - Eat to the Beat. And though ticket sales are down this year, it still promises to be a fun night. On my way home from a client meeting today I stopped at Yorkdale to see if I could buy a dress that would be suitable for the event. The stores in Yorkdale are awash in pink ribbon merchandise. Though I usually don't buy pink ribbon branded clothing, Guess is selling an irresistible shirt this year so I indulged.

I've been thinking about pink merchandising and about pink ribbon fatigue. I suspect people are getting a little tired of it. So many events, so many requests for money packed into such a short period of time. I hope I'm wrong. But I know it's getting harder and harder to raise the funding we need to operate Willow. The work we do at Willow isn't the sexy work. We're not about the cure. We're about support. We don't have a big fundraising machine. We don't have a board comprised of the leaders of industry or well connected media folks. We don't have a lot of merchandisers standing by to donate the proceeds of their pink merchandising efforts. But if you happen to be that woman living in a small Northern Ontario or Saskatchewan community and your doctor delivers the news of your breast cancer diagnosis on a Tuesday morning, it's easy to understand why the services we provide are so important.

Whether it is support for Willow or Princess Margaret Hospital or the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, I hope you will put aside any pink ribbon fatigue you might be feeling. I plan to light that pink candle I got yesterday and dream of a future without breast cancer.

Jacob Deprivation

Missing someone gets easier every day because even though it's one day further from the last time you saw each other, it's one day closer to the next time you will. ~Author Unknown

I know I saw him less than a week ago and that I will see him again a week from now, but I woke up this morning longing for the presence of my son. Jacob deprivation is always hard. I don't know what happens to me that moves me from going to bed feeling happy and confident to waking up with an almost physical ache of loneliness for my child.

I'm torn between calling him and asking if he can find some time to get together for lunch or coffee tomorrow, and just sucking it up for one more week. I'm sure he has a lot to do and I don't want to burden him with having to find the time or feeling guilty if he needs to say "no". It's only a week until he will be home for three days. I think I'll figure it out in the morning.

Sunday is the annual Run for the Cure event, which for me is more like a walk for the cure event. Nan and I will do the 5k walk together as we have done every year since 1998. Normally it is a family affair, sometimes even the boys have joined Cath, Nan, Marg and I for the event. But this year it will be just me and Nan. Marg will be returning from her European vacation tomorrow and Cath has decided to go to the lake for the weekend. And that is fine. It promises to be a beautiful day tomorrow and we will enjoy the walk through the city in the company of so many others in what is essentially a celebration of hope.

The ravine is a riot of colour, growing richer and richer each autumn day. I'll be happy to share the view with Jacob when he comes home on Friday.

Lunch

"Your son at five is your master, at ten your slave, at fifteen your double, and after that, your friend or your foe, depending on his bringing up." ~Author Unknown

It has been three long weeks since we brought Jacob to school. I've spoken to him little and exchanged only short text messages and the odd email. Merv is in San Francisco on a business trip. The house is quiet and a little empty. So I decided to call Jacob and ask him if he could spare a couple of hours for lunch. Cath and I headed out around eleven this morning. We were greeted by Jacob at the front door of his new house where he gave us each a huge hug and offered a tour. His room looks terrific and the whole house was remarkably tidy. Then it was off to lunch.

A new Montana's has opened up just down the street from Jacob's place. That is timely as earlier this week I sent him a gift card good for use at five restaurants, Montana's included. For a couple of hours we shared a good meal and good conversation. Jacob looks good - skinny but good - though I would prefer to see him with his hair cut.

After we dropped him off we headed to the local Winners store for a little exploration and then back home to try and get to Mom's to spend a little time. We called Nan to let her know we were running late only to learn that Mom's nursing home is in lock down due to a stomach bug so we cancelled today's visit. I've passed a pleasant evening stringing pearls and working on my Christmas gift projects.

The house is still quiet and a little empty. But even just a couple of hours with Jacob eased the ache. And judging from the text message he sent me this evening, he was feeling it as much as I was.

Dinner Party

"The oldest form of theater is the dinner table. It's got five or six people, new show every night, same players. Good ensemble; the people have worked together a lot."
- Michael J. Fox

Merv and I hosted a small dinner party for eight last night with some friends we haven't seen for a long time. I wrestled with what to serve that would be special but wouldn't consume my day in preparation. I turned to the recipes collection from the LCBO and settled on Beef Tenderloin with Figs and Shallots. Definitely a keeper. I started with a caprese salad with prociutto, added rice with pine nuts, mixed mushrooms and asparagus to the main course and served poached pears in port, cream puffs drizzled in chocolate sauce and chocolate petits fours for dessert. It was a tasty and easy meal.

The dinner conversation was lively and engaging. Our friend Marg regaled us with her larger than life tales of the adventures she and her husband Randy have shared. Newlyweds Kelly-Jo and Peter told us all about their honeymoon plans and Cath cleaned up behind me. All in all, a successful and fun night. By 10:30 the guests were gone, the dishes stacked and Merv was ready for bed. I didn't have the energy to tackle washing the dishes and crystal last night so I've left that for this morning. Those fairies I was hoping would come in the night to do it, unfortunately didn't materialize. The truth is, the cleanup isn't all that daunting. It shouldn't take more than an hour. And while I don't have a lot of leftovers, there is enough for my dinner so while I work, I'll think about enjoying them tonight.

It is a beautiful morning. The leaves in the ravine are quickly turning red, orange and gold. I have a date with some orange pearls. Life is good.

With the Fogies at Fogerty

"I want to know, Have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, Have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?"
- John Fogerty, "Have you ever seen the rain?"

John Fogerty gave an amazing two hour concert at Casino Rama last night. He looks the same. He sounds the same. His energy was unwavering. John Fogerty turned 65 in May. Last night, to a sold out crowd of 5,000 old fogies and geezers, Fogerty sang his heart out. A consumate musician, he entertained us by changing his guitar with almost each song. The array of his instruments moved from a guitar made from a baseball bat (used when he played Centerfield) to metallic red and brilliant turquoise versions. At the end of the show, Fogerty tripped on the stage and fell, breaking his guitar string in the process. He sprang up with the agility of a twenty year old, made a brief joke and carried on, barely missing a beat.

My day yesterday included a trip to the Rogers store in Bayview Village to pick up a new Blackberry to replace the one Rogers technical services finally declared defective. Because I was unable to provide the cardboard carton my Blackberry had been sold in, the store manager refused to take the defective model back. A distinctly unpleasant exchange ensued. I left without a new Blackberry. I think when I told the store manager I would be contacting Nadir Mohamed (president of Rogers) directly, he thought I was making an idle threat. Big mistake. Mr. Mohamed's office contacted me while I was on route to Rama to advise I could pick up my new Blackberry from the Bayview Village store whenever I wished to do so. I doubt it was a good day in the life of the Bayview Village store manager.

Other than that trip to Bayview Village, I'm going to try to do today what I've been trying to do all week but for one reason or another have been unable to do - stay off my feet and rest. My body is exhausted. My feet are aching and my blisters are breaking all over the place. I don't remember hurting this much after the other 60k walks I've made. But perhaps, at 55, my memory is failing me as badly as my feet.

Blistered

"Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Unknown

My journey at the 2010 Weekend to End Women's Cancers ended just before four o'clock when, along with my dear friends Nancy and Aivars, I crossed the finish line at the CNE. As in years past, the Weekend was a powerful affirmation of my victory over breast cancer. I am grateful I'm here to make this journey one last time.

The walk this year, is indeed, my final journey. From this point forward I will crew at the WTEWC, donate to the WTEWC, raise funds for the WTEWC. But there will be no more walking. So blistered and swollen are my poor feet, that I did the last 23 kilometres wearing flip flops. And while they are comfortable flip flops, they are less than ideal for making such an arduous journey.

No matter my sore feet. This year's event raised $10.8 for the Campbell Family Institute at The Princess Margaret Hospital. In this economy, that is quite an achievement. So no regrets, blisters and sore muscles will heal. Just gratitude for the 4,600 people who walked the 60k, for my friends Nancy and Aivars who stayed by my side, for my husband who tended to me all weekend with such great and gentle care and to The Princess Margaret Hospital that saved my life. I am truly blessed.

Preparing for My Journey

"To walk fast, walk alone. To walk far, walk together" - Anon

I'm still sick with a wicked cold but I'm on the mend. The congestion which had moved into my chest yesterday has abated and moved back into my head. While it makes me feel a little miserable, I can cope with that. Chest congestion is another story. So I am confident and relieved that I will be able to start my long walk tomorrow at the Weekend to End Women's Cancers. My friend Geraldine reminded me last night that I have walked in far more difficult circumstances than dealing with a head cold. And of course she is right.

This afternoon I will go to Shoppers Drug Mart and lay in supplies for the weekend - mole skin, blister bandages and a bottle of Aleve. The day is supposed to be dry tomorrow so I'm not expecting the same blister problem I dealt with the last time I made the 60k journey. Sunday's weather forecast is a little bit iffier but I will manage no matter what.

Turns out my great niece Emily isn't feeling well and won't be walking this year after all. As I'm fairly sure this is my last year for walking, I won't be able to make her first walk with her. But whenever she decides to do it, I will support her by crewing and I will be waiting at the finish line to welcome her in. At this juncture, Emily's mom, Kelly is also uncertain if she will walk this weekend. So it may turn out to be just me, Nancy and Aivars. No matter. We will have a good time taking the journey together. I can hardly wait to see Aivars in his pink sequined shirt.

My experience with the weekend has taught me that it will be a journey filled with unexpected gifts. I will report back on Monday.

Hope this weekend takes you on a gift-filled journey of your own. If you are the praying kind, I'd sure appreciate it if you would put in a word for me to help me along my way.

L' Shana Tovah

"Rosh Hashanah reminds us of the evil of war, the unity of all peoples in their love for their children, their desire for life and the necessity of peace in the world." - Rabbi Dr. Shlomo Riskin

Rosh Hashanah begins at sundown tonight. Merv and I have the honour of attending dinner with Judy, Mark, Robbie and Matthew this evening. This is the second year Judy has invited us to share their new year's meal. Last year only Jacob and I were able to attend. This year Jacob is in Guelph for the start of his school year tomorrow and Merv will join us.

I've been reading and studying a little bit about Rosh Hashana these past few days. For Jews this is a time of reflection, a time of making amends to those they have wronged, a time for asking help to improve those parts of themselves that will help them to live more fully and in greater harmony with the world. Seems like we could all do some of that.

So at Rosh Hashanah, I find myself reflecting on those parts of my own life and asking God to help me live my life in this coming year with courage, balance and authenticity. L'Shana Tovah to one and all.

Head Cold

"A cold in the head causes less suffering than an idea."
- Jules Renard

Not that there is ever a good time but this week is an especially bad time for me to be coping with the head cold I knew was coming on last night. I had a scratchy throat all day. I drank a lot of liquids, took some Advil and headed to bed early in the hopes of staving it off. No such luck. I woke up this morning with a full blown cold - sneezing, scratchy throat and chest congestion included.

Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah and Merv and I will be joining Judy and her family to celebrate the holiday. Perhaps her brisket will be the healing balm I need. With just four days until my 60k walk for the Weekend to End Women's Cancers, I'm willing to try just about anything. Today has been a day of chicken soup, lemon ponces and ginger tea. I'll try for another early night tonight. A little extra sleep won't hurt.

If worse comes to worse, I'll head over to Cath's tomorrow and ask Stan to make me one of his healing toddies. I'm not really sure what he puts into it but after taking one, I'm always ready to crash for a long sleep and a good sweat. Whatever it takes to get me through those 60k.

Gone to Dog Heaven

"Her heart was pure and filled with joy." - Anon

Dora died peacefully this morning in the presence of her humans, Brian and Geraldine, safely tucked in Geraldine's arms. I will miss her.

Goodbye Goodbye Goodbye

“Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.” - Snoopy

It has been a week of goodbyes. Yesterday I said goodbye to Sara and Jonathan. Today we brought Jacob to Guelph. I hate this part.

Last Sunday I went to Cath's lake house to spend a few days with Cath and our friend Geraldine. We thought it would help Geraldine to deal with the passing of Dora but Dora hadn't passed so she came along too. We enjoyed a couple of warm days, drinking champagne and sangria and eating a lot of food we wouldn't normally consume. Dora was clearly not herself but just the same, she made a half-hearted effort to chase the chipmunks whenever they were in range. On the way back to Toronto on Tuesday afternoon, Dora gave us all a scare. We thought she was going to die in my car. Geraldine gave her a dose of morphine and we hoped she would hang on long enough to get her to the vet or at least home. Apparently, once home she again rallied. Last I saw her (on Thursday) she was still on this side of heaven though Geraldine suggested today would be her last day. I have yet to hear from Ger so I suspect her passage has been put off yet again. As much as I love her, I hope that is not the case. She is clearly suffering and it pains me to see her that way. I'd prefer to say goodbye and think of her chasing chipmunks in heaven.

Knowing that Jacob would be returning to Guelph today, I tried to get him to attend to my technology support needs before he left. I've been asking him for more than a month to back up all my laptop files to an external hard drive so I can take my computer to Best Buy for repair without worrying that I'm going to lose everything. I asked so many times that he started snapping at me. But here I am, he is in Guelph and my computer remains without backup. I think I will be asking my friend Maurice for help. The one thing that I did manage to do, however, is to get a new blackberry. Jacob transferred all my data from my old system to my new system and then I spent the next two days on the phone with the Rogers help desk trying to figure out why it didn't work. All in all, I lost about ten hours of my week on the phone waiting on hold and then begging help desk employees who were sitting in God knows what country, to help me. The first three attempts were unsuccessful including the second attempt when a Rogers employee actually told me I'd be better off using some other service and then told me he couldn't figure out why I couldn't receive email messages on my blackberry so I should just suck it up and deal with it. It's been more than frustrating, more than aggravating and more than time consuming. But it is, fingers crossed, now done. I have a pretty white blackberry. Jacob synchronized it to the bluetooth in my car before he left this afternoon - a task I attempted multiple times yesterday without success.

So now here Merv and I are, back in our empty nest. It will be quiet. It will be lonely. We will miss Jacob and all his friends, like crazy. But on the upside, the house will stay a lot cleaner, my grocery bills will be a lot smaller and I will have a lot less housework to do. I'm sad but looking for the silver lining.

Jacob's New Digs

"We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."
- Walt Disney

Merv rented a truck on Thursday night and yesterday we moved Jacob into his new place in Guelph. We had seen pictures of the house and had driven by it but it was our first opportunity to go inside. The house is small but perfect for Jacob and the three friends he will be sharing with. It's fairly new and close to the university on a quiet crescent. Jacob is taking the basement family room as his suite giving him his own bathroom, a couple of small storage rooms and a healthy sized, brightly lit bedroom complete with electric fireplace.

It would appear that the home's last owners did not leave it in the cleanest state possible. My sensitive nose didn't much care for the odor that greeted me as I walked in the front door. Jacob's suite didn't smell but I wasn't enchanted with the cleanliness of the bathroom. So while Merv and Jacob worked to assemble the myriad of Ikea furniture we bought, I headed off to Zehrs for cleaning supplies.

By the early afternoon, I had Febreezed all the carpets, upholstered furniture and drapes in the house. I cleaned Jacob's bathroom to within an inch of its life and then did the same in the kitchen. I unpacked and washed all the dishes, glasses, flatware and appliances (toaster oven, blender, crockpot) I brought, slugged what seemed like a thousand boxes, broke down the cardboard from every over-packaged item and washed the floors. By the end I was aching and exhausted.

Merv drove the truck back to Toronto but Jacob and I stopped to have a bite of lunch. Jacob was famished and falling apart from getting up at 5:00 A.M. to give the boys an early start. I wasn't far behind them and I too was experiencing a few hunger pangs. So Jacob and I had lunch and headed back to the city. He was asleep before we got to the first stop light, a block from the restaurant. I woke him up when we got home.

Today I'm planning a trip to the Ex with Nan. We usually go the first week but didn't manage to fit it in this year. We'll do a bit of shopping at the International pavilion, grab a cob of roasted corn and have some hats embroidered for Nancy and Aivars to wear at the Weekend to End Breast Cancer. Jacob is enjoying Fan Expo with his friends today. I'll invite Merv to join Nan and I at the CNE but I suspect he will opt yo soothe his weary bones with a couple of beers and a sleep on the deck instead.

Heaven Can Wait

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas

Geraldine called late Wednesday to tell me that Dora had woken up hungry and frisky that morning and so they had not taken her to the vet for her last earthly trip. The vet suggested that Dora's improved condition wouldn't last for more than a day, perhaps two so the inevitable could be postponed as long. At seven o'clock this morning I met Brian and Dora as they were out having their morning walk. Dora was still fairly energetic. Her tumor has stopped bleeding and has shrunk back to egg size. There is no explanation.

Tomorrow Ger and I will travel, with Dora, to Havelock to enjoy a couple of days with Cath at the lake. How things will unfold with Dora, I have no idea. But it would seem, at least for a little while, heaven can wait.

Dora’s New Exploration

“The first step towards getting somewhere
is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are” – Dora the Explorer

Yesterday I was given a most gracious gift – the chance to say goodbye to my darling little friend Dora. We’ve known for some time that Dora is sick with cancer. But still we all hoped for some extra time. As late as a week ago, the vet was saying two more months, maybe longer. Dora spent the weekend with her humans, Brian and Geraldine, at Cath’s lake house. Reportedly, she was frisky on Saturday but sadly quiet on Sunday. Her tumor grew overnight from the size of an egg to the size of a grapefruit. She began to bleed. Their planned long weekend at the lake was cut short. Brian and Ger brought Dora home on Monday and took her to the vet. The vet confirmed she is at the end of her days and while he was prepared to euthanize her then, he could give them some painkillers and they could take Dora home for another day or two. And that is what they did.

Geraldine called me and offered an invitation to drop by and see Dora if I felt I wanted to. I was grateful for the gift of a last couple of hours spent in the company of a little dog I have come to know and love. So yesterday morning I walked down the street. Dora was happy to see me. Though she had been lying very low, she got up to greet me, tail wagging. We lay on the floor together, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. I spoke softly to her and cried. We moved to the couch. Brian took out his camera and took some pictures of Dora and I together, snuggling close for the last time. After a couple of hours, I told Dora I love her and took my leave.

Sometime today, Dora will start a new exploration. And heaven will be blessed with the addition of a new little white angel.

Tired

"All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players." - William Shakespeare

Jacob's birthday party on Friday night was a success. I spent the entire day from early Friday morning preparing for the event. By the end of the night on Friday I was pretty much falling apart. Jacob had neglected to tell me he had invited the party goers to spend the night so I was up at 6:30 on Saturday morning to go to What a Bagel and Longo's so I could lay in a supply of breakfast groceries. I made breakfast for the gang and then did a couple of hours of clean up before Merv and I headed out to St Jacobs for an anniversary party on Saturday.

One of Merv's new work friends celebrated her 25th wedding anniversary at the St. Jacobs Community Centre and Lion's Club starting at 8:30 on Saturday night. We did some wandering in St. Jacobs in the afternoon then checked into the Waterloo Inn to change before retuning to St. Jacobs for dinner at a local restaurant before heading over to the party. A few of Merv's colleagues were there and they seemed nice in the brief introduction we had. Unfortunately the music was so loud that we were unable to have any real conversation. By 11:00 P.M., we were both pretty exhausted so we went back to the hotel. After a decent night's sleep, we spent the day today in Stratford where we had tickets for the afternoon performance of Dangerous Liaisons.

Dangerous Liaisons is a drama set in seventeen century France shortly before the French Revolution. It is an intricate story and the play was well written and well acted. Just the same, it was three hours long. The seating at the Festival Theatre is a little bit uncomfortable - hard seats and little leg room. Merv took a couple of short naps during the first act but I watched it all making a maximum effort to limit the amount of squirming and shifting I did in my seat. We did see some interesting characters though both during the intermission and while waiting for the theatre to open. It took me a couple of minutes to put Margaret Atwood's name to her face and I saw a couple of other personalities I couldn't quite name. By far though, my favourite couple was a man and woman in their mid fifties. He is black. She is white. But they both had their hair dyed in the same unnatural shade of yellow. Hers was frizzy and mid-back length. His was in badly overgrown dreadlocks down to his waist. But the top of his head wasn't braided so he looked like a french poodle with braids. Very strange.

Jacob and his friends must have spent the day here yesterday before heading off to another party last night and one today from which he has yet to return. I know they were here because, of course, the house looks like it has been hit by a bomb. At least it doesn't smell. I will clean it up in the morning after the boys leave for work. For tonight, I'm just plain too tired.

Tomorrow I plan to order Jacob's bed for delivery to his new place on Friday. I have a business lunch scheduled and I need to steam clean the rug that Jacob is taking with him. Merv has rented a truck to take Jacob's furniture to Guelph on Friday. The days before school starts are growing short.

A Flurry of Activity

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep."
- Robert Frost

I met the morning view from my bedroom window with some surprise today. The leaves on the giant maples in the ravine behind us have already started to turn. They are a brilliant red which tells me the ravine will be glorious this fall.

Today is Merv's and my twenty-first wedding anniversary. We are headed to St Jacobs tomorrow for an anniversary party for someone Merv works with who I have yet to meet. We will stay in Waterloo tomorrow night and then drive to Stratford on Sunday to see a play. When were were dating and then first married, we went to Stratford every year but it has been a long time. Tonight we will be home celebrating quietly while Jacob's birthday party goes on downstairs.

I have a lot to do to get ready for tonight. Soon I will leave for Costco to pick up the cake I ordered a couple of days ago. And I'm going to pick up a large beef tenderloin to feed the kids. The menu will also include fusilli with pesto and sundried tomatoes for Jacob's vegetarian friend, caesar salad, corn on the cob and rolls with butter. In addition to cake, I will serve the caramel apples that I'll be making with Sara this afternoon. I've decided to go easy on myself and use paper plates. This is my third party in two weeks and I can't face another big clean up. I'll make a run to the beer store this afternoon and then to the LCBO. I thought I might make a nice pitcher of peach sangria for the girls and perhaps enjoy a glass or two myself.

So many reasons to celebrate. So much to do.

Nineteen

"Pregnancy is a disease from which you recover in 18 years and 9 months." ~Carrie Latet

Yesterday Merv and I spent the afternoon in Port Hope celebrating my great niece Emily's sixteenth birthday. I don't know when it happened that Emily grew from the shy little girl into the beautiful, poised and gracious young woman she has become. I could swear I barely blinked and it happened.

On the way home from Port Hope I was remembering another August 15, nineteen years ago. It was a painfully scorching Thursday. I wore my hot pink and black suit to work and my assistant moved the buttons on it while I sat in my bra in my office. I couldn't quite get it buttoned up over my belly that morning without straining so as she had done several times before, she moved the buttons to give me a little more room. That morning, however, she told me she had extended it as far as she could go and there would be no more chances after that day to give me a little extra room. By August 15, I was pretty short on clothing options. I only had a couple of things I could still cram into. I was self-conscious of my protruding belly button and swollen feet. And I was exhausted.

My due date was August 23 but I knew Jacob wouldn't wait that long to make his appearance. I had told my obstetrician the week before that I expected my scheduled August 16 office appointment would be taking place in the labour room at Mt. Sinai. He laughed and told me he would see me in the office the following week. That August 15 morning, I knew with relative certainty the day would be my last in the office before giving birth. I finished up my work, cleared my calendar, drove to Markham on my lunch hour to pick up Merv's gift for our anniversary five days later and bought a small gift to leave on the pillow for Merv when he returned from the hospital following Jacob's birth. I told my boss I expected to go into labour that night and so I wouldn't be in the office the next day but would call the next week. He thought I was nuts. The women in the office tried to convince me that I was not ready to go into labour as I would get a burst of energy first - nature's gift to help me survive labour. But I know my body and I knew I had hit my pregnancy limit.

When I arrived home from work that night I was too tired to cook so we ordered Swiss Chalet. I packed my bag and stashed Merv's pillow gift for easy access so I could slip it on the pillow while he went to get the car. I told him I was going to go into labour and asked him at what point he wanted me to wake him up. He laughed and told me to wake him when the contractions were five minutes apart. And that is what I did. Around 11:00 I went to bed, knowing there was no chance for sleep but at least I thought I could get a little rest. At 1:15 my labour started. At 3:30 I woke Merv. At 5:30 we left for the hospital (via Merv's office where I sat in the car on St. Clair Avenue while he made some preparations for the morning meeting he was going to miss).

Thinking Jacob would arrive on that Friday, I turned the nursery rhyme over in my head...Friday's child is loving and giving. I didn't know he wouldn't make his arrival until the next stanza doomed him to work hard for a living. It was a long, and painful day. A little more than 26 hours after I started labour, Jacob was born by c-section at 3:15 A.M. on Saturday, August 17.

He was beautiful. Nineteen years later, he still is.

Sprung

The best six doctors anywhere
And no one can deny it
Are sunshine, water, rest, and air
Exercise and diet.
These six will gladly you attend
If only you are willing
Your mind they'll ease
Your will they'll mend
And charge you not a shilling.

~Nursery rhyme quoted by Wayne Fields, What the River Knows, 1990


My life for the past five years has included many visits to Princess Margaret Hospital. It will be five years in October since my breast cancer diagnosis was made. Of course, the year following diagnosis, was one long saga of visits to PMH for surgery, chemo and radiation. Since then, my PMH visits have been about eight per year for scheduled appointments with my surgical oncologist, medical oncologist, MRIs, ultrasounds and mammography. By far, most of those appointments are related to visits to my surgical oncologist.

These frequent trips to PMH are not difficult or traumatic. I'm always treated well and don't usually have to wait long. But every time I go, I wonder if this is going to be my life forever. Will I never find a way to escape the clutches of cancer? Does it have to be in my face all the time? Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for the care. Grateful that good and dedicated medical professionals have been so vigilant and thorough and have provided such good care. I'm just sick and tired of being at PMH.

Today I went to Dr. McCready's surgical oncology clinic for the last time. I didn't know it was going to be my last visit there so I was caught completely off guard.

After five years of frequent appointments and annual MRIs, Dr. McCready told me I don't need to see him anymore. I'm fine. My recent MRI was once again clear. My recent ultrasound was clear. My last mammogram was clear. I will continue my annual visit to the medical oncologist and go back to the same process every other sane woman my age goes through. My family doctor will schedule an annual mammogram and an ultrasound. If something comes up, Dr. McCready will get involved. Other than when walking at the Weekend to End Breast Cancer in September, he doesn't expect to see me again.

I am well. It is a good day - no, it is a great day - and so, I thrive!

The Middle Weekend

"There aren't enough days in the weekend." - Rod Schmidt


The middle long weekend of the summer is here and I'm swallowing hard. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to enjoy a long weekend when I have no commitments and the big party for Jacob's friends is at someone else's house. But I begin this holiday weekend with the sobering thought that on the next holiday weekend, in just one short month, Jacob will be moving back to Guelph.

A few days ago Jacob informed us that he would be moving a full week before Labour Day. He was under the mistaken impression that classes start on the day after Labour Day and he wanted some time to settle into his new house. Merv booked a moving truck and I tried not to cry. Jacob did say he would resign from work on August 20 to give us a little together time before he left. When he realized classes didn't start quite so early he amended his plans. He will resign from work on August 26. The next day he and Merv will load the truck and we will move him into his new place. Then he will come home with us to relax the following week and will go back to Guelph on Labour Day weekend. I like this plan better.

For one thing, we want to take Jacob and Jonathan to celebrate their coming of age at either Casino Rama or Casino Niagara - depending on what acts are playing and Jonathan's work schedule. Both my boys will be turning nineteen in the middle of the month. I also want some extra time after I've seen Jacob's new place to determine what else I need to buy to get him set up. So far, I've bought dishes and glasses, flatware, knives and a slow cooker. In the next few days I will order a new double bed and buy bedding. This weekend I will take him to Ikea so he can choose a desk, a dresser and a wardrobe (there is no closet in his room). I still need to steam clean the area carpet his Aunt Cath gave him.

The good news is I'm not experiencing the same level of angst as last year at this time. I know I will survive this separation. It's a bit like knowing I'm slated to make my 60K Weekend to End Women's Cancers walk just a week after Jacob goes. The walk will, no doubt, be painful but as it is my fourth time doing it, I know I will survive.

Apart from that shopping excursion with Jacob, I'm going to try not to think about any of it. It's the long weekend and I have a date with some good champagne and the twelve strands of purple pearls I bought last week that are crying out to be strung.

Legally Blond

“Whoever said orange was the new pink was seriously disturbed.” - Elle Woods

In spite of rave reviews, the production of Legally Blond playing at The Princess of Wales Theatre is fair to middling at best. Merv and I attended tonight's show as part of our Mirvish subscription. It wasn't completely without merit but was more of an opera than a musical and the significant plot changes which have been made to the screenplay didn't enhance the story.

We arrived at the theatre fairly early so we had lots of time for people watching. And there were all kinds of people in attendance tonight. A fair number of children were there as were many people in their late teens and early twenties. Most of the audience from young to old was dressed in shorts and t-shirts, with the odd pair of jeans, sweats or yoga pants thrown in for good measure. There were some young women and adolescent girls dressed in Elle Woods' type dresses and only a handful of others like Merv and I who dressed with a little more formality than the rest of the crowd.

There is one couple who stood out from the rest. I see this pair each time we attend the theatre so we must share the same timetable for our subscription. I haven't quite figured out their relationship. He is about 6'4" tall. She doesn't quite reach his shoulder. They are middle aged, I would think in their late forties or early fifties. He wears his hair short in a conventional style and he is long and lean. She is a little bit plump and quite conservative in her appearance. What makes them stand out, is that he dresses in women's clothes and shoes and he carries a purse. Tonight's ensemble was a pair of loose black trousers with a black and white blouse and a pair of black pumps with kitten heels. He was carrying a mid-sized handbag in plum and black. Part of the mystery is that while he is dressed like a woman, they seem like a married couple and he makes no attempt to look like a woman - no makeup, no wig - just a tall, undistinguished man dressed like woman. Very strange indeed.

Waiting

"But the important thing about learning to wait, I feel sure, is to know what you are waiting for." - Anna Neagle

I had an ultrasound appointment scheduled at 10:40 this morning at PMH. I decided to leave a bit early so that I would be on time if I experienced construction delays. Traffic was abysmal. Weaving my way through the city was slow but I was still poised to arrive and park in the garage behind the hospital with a full fifteen minutes to spare. Wrong. Toronto Rehab Hospital is undergoing renovation. By the time I sat and waited for the traffic cop to waive me through, the margin on my early arrival time had been seriously cut. Then I was delayed trying to park. The garage behind PMH has narrow lanes and lots of blind spots but I've navigated it so many times that it is like second nature to me. Not so for the five cars in front of me. By the time I got into a parking spot on Level 8 on the roof, the clock read 10:38. The elevator was slow and I ended up jogging to the hospital.

I needn't have bothered. The breast imaging department was so backed up, it was another full hour before I got into my appointment. I sat in a small cramped waiting room trying to keep the too small gown pulled across my chest while reading fourteen month old magazines. Every chair was occupied and the tension in the room was palpable. I don't know why I didn't bring my book reader with me this morning. After more than five years of the PMH experience, I ought to be more prepared. Tests and treatment is never the worst part of being there. It is the waiting that is so hard.

Every time I go for a diagnostic appointment at PMH be it ultrasound, mammography or MRI, I'm given a form to fill out. The form hasn't changed in the more than five years I've been going there and I fill it out at least four times a year. It asks questions about my cancer history and previous surgeries. It asks when I had previous MRIs, mammograms and ultrasounds. I always wonder if anyone ever actually looks at the form. Shouldn't all that information be in a data base at the hospital? When I had an MRI in June, I was give a two page form to fill out. Then the technician asked me every question I had already answered. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was asked to fill out the form if I was going to be asked the questions orally just ten minutes later. I also wonder if anyone would notice if I change the answers from one appointment to the next. Clearly I have too much time on my hands sitting in waiting rooms.

Today's ultrasound itself was quick and uneventful. I have several more appointments scheduled in the next month at PMH. I'll try to do better next time - book reader, current magazine and soduku book or crossword puzzles close at hand.

Maid Service

"The Rose Bowl is the only bowl I've ever seen that I didn't have to clean." ~Erma Bombeck

I spent the weekend at Cath's lake house with Cath and Stan and my cousin Francis and his family. The last time I had a block of visiting time with him was seven years ago when he and his wife Pat and daughter Stephanie spent a couple of days with me on the weekend of Cath's fiftieth birthday. Unfortunately Merv was in Chicago on a business trip until Saturday afternoon and didn't feel up to making the drive to Havelock to join us for the remainder of the weekend. Nonetheless, the weather was spectacular and it was great to spend time reminiscing about our childhood days and getting to know one another as adults.

Jacob told me on Thursday that he had invited friends for a party on Friday night. As he is still a month from being legal, I made a trip to the liquor store on Friday morning to lay in a supply of beer and coolers. I also bought snacks. Jacob advised they would be ordering dinner in. I cleaned the house before I left with an expectation it would be clean when I returned. At around 7:00 P.M. Friday night, I had a call from Sara. She and Emily had decided they were going to cook for the gang instead of ordering in. Did I have pasta, peppers, tomato sauce, brown sugar...? A little later, the phone rang again. Sara had broken a plate and was extremely apologetic and upset. I calmed her down - after all it's just a plate, hardly worth being upset over. At 12:30 that night, she was again texting apologies. So much angst for something so inconsequential.

I drove home from the lake yesterday afternoon with the intention I would take a bath, change my clothes and head out to see my mom. I walked in to the smell of a dirty kitchen. While many might not have noticed, my hyper active nose told me before my eyes could, that the kitchen had not been cleaned from the Friday night party. Sure enough, I was greeted by unrinsed plates, dirty bowls and pots and pans covering every inch of the kitchen sinks and counters. The tomato sauce cans sat empty and unrinsed, pasta boxes were empty and a styrofoam meat tray displayed the remnants of the ground beef. The garbage bag was overflowing and the green garbage reeked. I wanted to cry. Far too annoyed to speak to Jacob about it at that point, I decided to just carry on to my mom's. Maybe he would clean up while I was out.

I finished at my mom's at five o'clock, stopped at the grocery store to buy something for dinner and proceeded home. As soon as I walked in the door, my trusty nose told me nothing had changed. Calmly I had a discussion with my son - while his friends are welcome here anytime, this hotel no longer comes with maid service. A set of really lame excuses was offered and rejected. Before I could make dinner, I spent a half hour cleaning up the kitchen. I'd like to think this will be the last time I have to engage in the clean up conversation. Somehow, though, I rather doubt it.

It's Twilight Time

"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls."
George Carlin

I admit I feel a little silly - a middle aged woman swooning over a werewolf who is about the same age as my son. But there was that close-up of Jacob Black without his shirt and a collective sigh emanated from all the women in the theater and the gay man beside me.

Last night I went with my friend Nancy and a few others to see the latest movie in the Twilight series. It's hard to explain to someone the appeal of these adolescent vampire stories. When Nancy suggested I read the books, I thought that was a little strange but I picked up the first in the four part series and within three days had finished the fourth and last book. The stories are enthralling though they lack the complexity of the Harry Potter series. Nonetheless, the same level of suspension of disbelief is required. I'm willing to do that.

The story line is about a regular human girl who finds herself torn between two love interests, one a vampire and one a werewolf. It is clear from the start that the vampire will triumph and ultimately he does. When reading the books, I pictured the characters in a very different way than they are portrayed in the movie. Edward, the vampire, was exceptionally beautiful in my mind. Jacob Black, the werewolf, not so much. But for me, watching the movie, I'm all about the werewolf. He is infinitely more appealing than the vampire though he is barely beyond being jail bait.

The Twilight book series is mind candy. Watching Jacob Black in the movie is eye candy. Both feed the adolescent girl still living in my middle-aged body.

Selling Tickets

"It's a good year to get into raffles."
~ Scott Curtis

I remember the days when Jacob was in school and every parent would be sent a bundle of raffle tickets to sell or a catalogue of gift wrap or cookie mix or chocolates which we were expected to peddle to friends and family to raise funds for the school. I cringed every time I got a package of something I was expected to sell. For starters, I had created a rule at my place of employment that peddling goods for one's children's school, sports teams or asking for sponsorships for non-company sponsored events was banned. I did that after the seventh or eighth time I had been asked to buy something or sponsor someone's child's activities in the first week of my employment. People ignored the rule and I never made an issue of it, but it did help to cut down on the solicitations at least a little. I never wanted to ask my friends or family either to spend money to buy goods at inflated prices and of questionable quality. I usually placed a significant order myself, or in the case of raffle tickets, just bought the lot. I even won a few times though my outlay of cash usually exceeded the value of the prize.

I thought I had put those days behind me. Then I joined the board of Willow. At a board meeting a couple of years ago, I was handed twenty raffle tickets for the raffle at Willow's signature fundraising event, Eat to the Beat, and advised I was expected to sell them. I bought six and handed the balance back to the agency to be sold at the event. Many of my fellow board members did the same. Most of us don't work in corporate offices where it is easy to peddle tickets at $20 a piece. Last year, our raffle organizers who had run the raffle for years, decided to step off the committee. One reason that was cited was their perception of the lack of effort put forth by board members to sell raffle tickets. It was a long and sorry drama that I will not relate today. I was given no raffle tickets to sell last year. I was, however, given ten Eat to the Beat event tickets to sell, which I sold with a fair amount of ease and then placed an order for another six tickets. This year, I will not be selling event tickets. It is so much easier for the agency, me and buyers to buy the tickets on-line that I will encourage family and friends to join us but to buy their tickets directly. I was pleased to hear that there would be no expectation for me to sell event tickets this year. I was less pleased when I was handed an envelope containing twenty raffle tickets with an expectation that I will sell them.

The good news is that the prizes are great. First prize is a five-star, all-inclusive trip to Mexico. Second prize is a Persian carpet. Third is an Italian 14K white gold necklace. Fourth prize is a beautiful queen sized sapphire star quilt. Fifth prize is an Avenir 6-speed folding bicycle. The draw will take place at Eat to the Beat on Tuesday, October 5. Tickets are $20 each or 3 for $50. If you are interested in buying a ticket, please let me know.

As for the actual event, Willow Breast Cancer Support Canada’s annual fundraising gala, Eat to the Beat, features over 60 of Canada’s finest female chefs – all gathered in support of Willow’s free programs and services.

Highlighted as one of Toronto’s top 10 events by BizBash magazine, this year marks Eat to the Beat’s 15th anniversary, having raised more than $3 million for Willow. The event is held at Roy Thompson Hall and tickets are $150 each. For more information or to purchase tickets on-line, go to wwww.eattothebeat.ca.

Birthday Blessings

"I would thank you from the bottom of my heart,
but for you my heart has no bottom." - Anon

Though my birthday was on Friday, celebrations continue. I had a wonderful weekend in Havelock being feted and spoiled by my family and friends. The weather was perfect, the presents embarrassingly abundant, every meal was a feast and there was no shortage of champagne. What more could a birthday girl ask?

A couple of weeks ago Judy booked me for a birthday dinner to be held tonight. She told me she was at an appointment in my neighbourhood today so she would pick me up for dinner. I asked where we were headed so I could ensure I was appropriately dressed but in reply was told just to dress comfortably and casually. Even enroute to dinner Judy declined to tell me where we were going but when we got a block from our friend Nancy's house, I figured out that was where we were going. I was greeted by Nancy and Josee and soon joined by our dear friend Samia. Birthday dinner with Judy turned into birthday dinner with the lovely women who mother Jacob's dearest friends. It seems the ladies had divided the work of dinner into courses and we were headed for a feast. Beautiful hors d'ovres were followed by an excellent main, a delicious salad and luscious cake. At the end of the meal I was showered with gifts. The whole night was a surprise. I absolutely loved it.

Tomorrow evening I will have a birthday dinner with my much younger friend Gail. She will make it a point (as she does every year) to tell everyone within earshot that it is her much older friend's birthday. After all, I have seven weeks on her. We will go to the Keg, sit on the patio and enjoy cocktails from the list of Keg specials. We'll talk about sampling many choices from the cocktail menu but we'll really each have only one and try not to fall asleep before we finish dinner.

When I was younger, I was happy to let my birthday pass quietly, celebrating the day with family. When July 2 passed, the celebration was done for another year. But when I hit fifty I started to feel differently about my birthday. The milestone year was, in my mind, certainly cause for a bigger celebration but I expected I would go back to my quiet observation the following year. So much happened in the year I was fifty that my perspective on my birthday changed. I hear people saying they've stopped counting birthdays as they don't want the reminder of aging. Some people tell me they just want their birthdays to pass without fanfare so they don't have to acknowledge the growing numbers of their age. But that isn't me. We all know there is only one alternative to aging. And I've been too close to the alternative to casually dismiss the gift of a birthday. So for however many more I get (and I hope there will be lots), I plan to celebrate each and every one.

55 Squared

“Last week the candle factory burned down. Everyone just stood around and sang Happy Birthday.” - Stephen Wright

I will mark my lucky birthday on Friday - 55 years old, born in 1955. I'm looking forward to a relaxing weekend at Cath's lake house and celebrating the day with Cath and Stan, Merv and Jacob and Marg and Bob. Merv and Jacob have to work on Friday so they will be joining us in Havelock late in the afternoon. Nan has decided she doesn't want to leave my mom for the weekend. Though I will miss seeing her, we had a sisters' evening tonight as an early birthday celebration.

I also took a couple of hours today to spend some time with my mom. Normally, I visit my mom on my birthday but as I will be out of town this year, I decided we would celebrate today. I picked up a luscious lemon-raspberry torte from Dufflet and took it to the nursing home to share with Mom. She was pretty out of it today so she wasn't able to engage in the joy of the festivities but Nan and I sang "Happy Birthday" (okay, I admit Happy Birthday to Me is a little weird) and I talked to her about the day she gave birth to me. I hoped somewhere in her memory she would be able to find a small connection but it didn't happen. She simply couldn't relate to me. She couldn't even find a link to Nan today so there was no chance she could find a connection to me. She did like the cake though so I still found some measure of satisfaction. Beginning from the time I was a teenager, I tried to make it a point to give my mom a small gift on my birthday - not a big thing but something to say thanks for bringing me into the world like a pair of earrings or some flowers. While I don't have those options anymore, there is still cake. At least there is that.

My birthday also marks one year of this blog as I started writing it on my birthday last year. Life Savours has often acted as an outlet for my feelings and has served as a connection to family and friends who I don't have an opportunity to speak with often. I'm always a little surprised when after months of not speaking with someone, they are so up-to-date with what is going on in my life. I didn't realize so many people actually read this blog. So to those of you who take time to stop by and catch up, whether often or just once in a while, thank you. I appreciate your time and your interest. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.