The Lazy Days of Christmas

"Ambition is a poor excuse for not having sense enough to be lazy." - Milan Kundera

By the time I get to Christmas night, I've normally hit the wall of fatigue.  And after eating an enormous turkey dinner, it is all I can do to keep my eyes open long enough to undress and tumble into bed.  But a long, deep sleep was to be elusive for me this Christmas night.  Merv left for England  on the red-eye flight after our Christmas dinner.  It was his brother, Eric's, 60th birthday on Boxing Day and Merv wanted to surprise him. I normally don't fret about Merv travelling but on Christmas night, I could do little else.  Sleep didn't come until after 6 A.M. when I received his text to tell me he had arrived in London.  I managed to sleep for a couple of hours and then got up to fret about the four hour drive I knew he was making on the wrong side of the road after his own sleepless night.  I was overwhelmed with relief when he called with the news he was with his brother.

So it was with heavy eyes that I headed out to see a movie with Jacob on Boxing Day afternoon.  It has been our tradition since Jacob was little, to see a movie on Boxing Day as it was my family's tradition when I was small.  It felt a bit strange to be going without Merv.  After some discussion and some negotiation, we finally settled on seeing Life of Pi.  I wanted to see Guilt Trip, thinking it would be amusing to see a film about a mother and son road trip with my son.  But Jacob was truly not interested.  Likewise, he didn't want to see Les Miserables and he had already seen Argo.  I read Life of Pi many years ago and I remember the story well.  The reviews of the movie have been excellent but I knew it would be intense and it certainly was.  After seeing it, I wasn't at all sure I wouldn't be facing another sleepless night.  But we stopped at Cath's for turkey leftovers and by 11 o'clock I could hardly keep my eyes open.  I exchanged a couple of texts with Merv and slept like a stone until 7. 

The house looks like it has been hit by a bomb.  The dishes are all clean but my Christmas china needs to be boxed and stored away until next year.  The whole house needs a thorough vacuuming and the kitchen floor needs to be washed.  And yet today, I have been lazy, barely doing the minimum of housework.  We ordered Chinese food for dinner. Tonight we will watch movies and talk.  The mess can wait another day.  I'd rather take the time tonight to enjoy the companionship of my wonderful son on this lazy post-Christmas day.

And a Child Will Lead Them

"The wolf will live with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the goat. The calf, the young lion, and the fatling will be together, and a child will lead them". - Isaiah 11:6

It is Christmas Eve, still dark on this morning so close to the Winter Solstice.  The grocery store opened a half hour ago and in spite of my best intentions to be there, I am still enjoying my coffee in the den while I watch the daylight dawn over the ravine.  I am a Christmas girl who has been struggling mightily these past couple of weeks to find my Christmas spirit.  It is unlike me.  I was leaning into it before the shootings at Sandy Hook pretty much destroyed any momentum I had made. Try as I might, I haven't yet found my way back.

I've been trying to think of all the good things that have happened this year.  I took some good trips, got my paralegal license, watched my son rise to the top of his university engineering class.   But in this year I've also witnessed much sadness and loss.  Really, it that I've been thinking of most these past weeks.  The world already felt sad to me and then Sandy Hook happened.

I will try with all my might today to put all that aside.  It is Christmas, the time of miracles.  I will finish wrapping the gifts, set the table for our annual Christmas Eve dinner, buy the groceries, make the cod fritters and the trifle and find the recipe for the Bivver Shivers that we're planning to serve as our specialty cocktail tonight.  I will clean the house and arrange the flowers, chill the champagne and sing carols while I work.  As for the sadness caused by the slaughter of twenty innocent children, I've decided to reframe things.  In The Holy Bible Isaiah wrote "And a child will lead them."  I believe twenty children will lead the U.S. from the darkness of guns and violence now and people will finally find the will to do what they must.

Wishing you peace and joy.

Dreaming of a Green Christmas

"A lot of people like snow.  I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water." - Carl Reiner

In 1940, Irving Berlin wrote the song "White Christmas" for the film Holiday Inn.  Recorded by Bing Crosby, the song became a Christmas classic.  It is this song that I blame for brainwashing a whole population of people at that time and in subsequent years into dreaming year after year of a snowy Christmas.

Other than through the song and in the movies, I can't really think of what the association is between Christmas and snow.  Historians tell us that Jesus was most likely born in September in Bethlehem though his birth may have been as early as June.  Whether in June, July, August or September, there was no snow in Bethlehem. At the time Berlin wrote the song, he was living in Hollywood.  There was no snow there either. 

If there was ever a time we don't need snow it is at Christmas when travellers are trying to drive and fly around the continent.  Snow causes delays in the air and on the ground.  It makes driving much less safe and forces shoppers to move through malls in heavy coats and boots. 

You won't catch me dreaming of a white Christmas.  I would be just as happy if I never saw another flake of snow.

Christmas Miracles

Have you any old grudges you would like to pay,
Any wrongs laid up from a bygone day?
Gather them now and lay them away
When Christmas comes.
Hard thoughts are heavy to carry, my friend,
And life is short from beginning to end;
Be kind to yourself, leave nothing to mend
When Christmas comes.
- William Lytle ("When Christmas Comes")

My work has been interesting lately.  I've certainly been busy, far busier than at any other Christmas in my consulting years.  I like busy.  But it has also been very stressful.  I've been dealing with two of the most difficult client situations I've ever faced.

Yesterday was the day we finally went to mediation to try to resolve a termination situation that happened in April.  I spent many days trying to get counsel on the other side to agree to just meet me for a cup of coffee so we could try and resolve the issues last spring before it ended up in a large and difficult lawsuit.  She would not meet me.  So the suit was filed.  It was ugly and messy for both sides and the only ones who fared well were the lawyers.  In Ontario, before a case can proceed to trial, the parties are required to attend a consentual mediation.  It took eight months, but we finally got there.  While we started far apart, we ended late in the afternoon with an agreement that everyone could live with.  Frankly, we could have reached the same agreement last May in an hour spent over a latte at The Second Cup.  But at least we're there.  It was an incredible Christmas blessing for my client who has behaved with more dignity in these eight months than anyone could have expected or imagined.  And then a little something extra - the other side made a kind gesture that allowed my client to get his money now instead of next January.  The gesture was unbidden and surprising.  Somewhere in the stillness of the room, when my client's eyes brimmed with tears, I could almost swear I heard the flap of an angel's wing. 

A couple of weeks ago, I brokered an agreement between two parties who were also concluding an employment relationship.  They were extremely angry with each other and both were behaving badly.  They wanted to be right more than they wanted to be happy.  Neither party wanted to accept any responsibility for how their relationship had so badly soured, each blaming the other for all the problems.  I lost count of how many times I quoted Dr. Phil in my discussions with the parties ("No matter how flat you make a pancake it always has two sides").  After six weeks of daily effort, I decided the only way to make progress was to get both parties to sit in a room together and talk.  I finally got them to agree to meet on the condition that the meeting would take place in neutral territory.  I sat them at my kitchen table and they talked.  An hour later we had an agreement.  Some buyers remorse the next day had both parties revisiting parts of the agreement.  Eventually we got there.  I sent each party to their respective lawyers to paper the deal as there were very complex tax, accounting and immigration details to be inked.  Yesterday morning, the deal fell apart.  I was very disappointed, for both sides.  The end of the deal meant one party wouldn't make it home for Christmas and the other wouldn't be in a position to go through with his holiday plans.  Throughout the day yesterday, I was innundated with phone calls, texts and emails from the clients.  Though I had advised both that I was unavailable to deal with the situation until today, neither could accept that I wasn't instantly available and responsive.  I spent several hours last night trying to figure out if there was a way to salvage the situation but sadly could think of nothing. Both parties were dug in and there was no sign that either would relent.  So I was extremely surprised to get a note at 11:00 o'clock last night.  One party took a big step forward and in response, the other met her half way.  For the second time in one day, I felt the breeze of an angel's flapping wings.

A Call to Action

"By our readiness to allow arms to be purchased at will and fired at whim… we have created an atmosphere in which violence and hatred have become popular pastimes.        - Martin Luther King, Jr. 

What is there to say on a December morning, ten days before Christmas when as I write, the names of the twenty children, killed by a madman at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut are about to be read on CNN?  They were babies.  Innocent, beautiful babies.  Their parents have, no doubt, already bought their Christmas gifts.  They've taken their annual photos with Santa.  They've put up their trees and Christmas lights.  Who will unwrap those presents now?  Who will take down the trees and pack the ornaments away?  How will the parents of those children go on?  How can they even breathe?


In the weeks ahead, this story will fade from the news.  Eventually Colombine did.  Eventually the shooting that gravely wounded Gabby Gifford did.  Eventually, the movie theatre shooting did.  So what's the plan now?  Will we only remember this horror when the next mass shooting occurs?

Since yesterday afternoon, I've been hearing that this is not the time to talk about gun control.  So far, four guns have been found - three inside the school and one in the shooter's car.  One of them was a semi-automatic assault rifle.  In the name of God, I'm begging all my friends and family in the U.S., stand up today.  Take action. Make changes.  If not now, when?

Angels and Laundry

"The earth has grown old with its burden of care, but at Christmas it always is young, the heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair, and its soul full of music breaks the air, when the song of angels is sung." - Phillips Brooks

Jacob is home.  It is finally Christmas.  We picked him up from Guelph this morning along with Courtney and a huge bag of laundry.  Though I invited Courtney to bring her laundry too, she is saving it to take home to Collingwood on Wednesday after she writes her last exam.  Court is just here for a few days.  I will drive her back to Guelph on Wednesday morning ensuring we have sufficient time to get her to her 11:30 exam.  Later that day her dad will pick her up and take her home.  In the time between Wednesday and the return trip to school in January, Jacob will spend a few days in Collingwood with Court's family and she will come to Toronto and spend a few days with us.  

I had the star out, waiting for Jacob to put it on the top of the tree when he got home.  I've been looking for something else to use as a tree topper for several years but in spite of my search I haven't been able to find something else that works better.  The star is pretty but it's badly constructed and always a bit lopsided on the tree.  I don't know who designed it but it's in serious need of a rethink.  In spite of Jacob's best efforts, he couldn't find a way to make the star work on the top of this year's tree without getting the pruning shears out and giving the tree a redesign so I told him not to bother.  He positioned the lights at the top of the tree and helped me drape the crystalline ribbon.  The tree looked fine but it was nagging at me that there wasn't a proper ornament for the top.

A while after we finished and I was cleaning up, I glanced at a stained glass angel that has been hanging in my living room since we moved here.  The angel was a gift from my friend Janice who is now an angel herself.  It is a stylized piece in white and royal blue.  I started to wonder if there was some way to place Janice's angel at the top of the tree.  I gave the task of figuring it out to Jacob.  It took him less than five minutes to secure the stained glass angel to new heights.

I love both the look and the idea of that particular angel topping the Christmas tree.  I often think of my friend Janice.  I like to think she is watching over us from the heavens.  Somehow, seeing that angel makes me feel sure of it.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

"I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he or she handles these three things:  a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights." - Maya Angelou

Last Saturday, Merv put up our two Christmas trees.  I am responsible for decorating the main floor tree and he is responsible for decorating the downstairs tree.  Every year, I change the main floor tree to reflect the theme of our Christmas.  This year, we are having a Newfoundland-themed Christmas in the colours of pink, white and green like the flag of Newfoundland before it joined Confederation in 1947.  If you asked Merv last week how many strands of lights I've purchased over the years, he would have told you more than he could count in every colour of the rainbow.  But he would have been wrong.  For the past ten years, I've been trying to find pink lights for the tree.  Until this year, I hadn't found them.  Now we have eight strands.

The tree Merv bought for the living room this year is very tall - too tall for me to handle.  On the ladder I managed to get lights on all but the top foot.  There is not a chance I could get the star up, though I wouldn't put it up anyway as I leave that honour to Jacob when he gets home from school.  I figured he could adjust the lights (which I left hanging loosely) to cover the gap at the same time he put up the star.  It took me a whole afternoon to get the lights on.  I've been really busy with work so I didn't get around to doing the lights until Wednesday.  I got up on Thursday morning at 5:30 to put up the decorations.  Again, there are gaps high in the branches that will have to be filled in by Jacob.  I wanted to ribbon the tree with pink crystalline ribbon but the tree is so tall I can't get it started on my own.  I called Cath to ask if she would help me on Thursday night but that didn't work out so it is Saturday afternoon and the tree is still unribboned.  I guess it will be one more job for Jacob when he gets home tomorrow.

In chatting with Geraldine on Thursday afternoon, I learned that Brian put up their tree last weekend as well.  It was still waiting to be decorated and Ger didn't much seem to have the heart to do it.  Her dad is very sick and this is the first Christmas without Beverley so it's no wonder she is struggling with finding her Christmas spirit.  I decided looking at a naked tree in her living room couldn't be helping so yesterday I went over and decorated their tree too.  I enjoyed the time with Ger.  And it seemed to boost both our spirits. While they were out this morning, I went and ribboned their tree with beautiful gold crystalline ribbon.  Their tree is a foot shorter than mine so I had no problem reaching the tall branches.  I hope they like it.

Buttons

"I could see no reason why used tram tickets, bits of driftwood, buttons and old junk from attics and rubbish heaps should not serve well as materials for paintings; they suited the purpose just as well as factory-made paints... It is possible to cry out using bits of old rubbish, and that's what I did, gluing and nailing them together." - Kurt Schwitters

I've been thinking about all the stuff I've accumulated over the course of my adult years.  I do have the penchant for saving small trinkets, scraps of ribbon and pretty paper, old buttons and baubles.  When I'm tucking them away, I'm sure some day I'll find a use for them.  A couple of weeks ago, I rounded up the odd buttons that have been scattered among various boxes and drawers and decided to try and figure out what they could become.  I don't sew.  Some of them are really very pretty.  Looking at them I recalled what garments they either came off of (if I dispose of something I take the buttons off before I put it in the garbage) or what garment they came with as the extra button.  I thought about the obscenely expensive green maternity suit that I bought when I was expecting Jacob and about the beautiful black sweater I had which was fastened by a single rhinestone button.  Playing with the buttons, sorting them and trying them in various combinations gave me an idea.  The buttons are jewellery and might have new lives as bracelets and necklaces.

I called my sister Nancy and asked if she had any buttons she would like to contribute to my inventory.  She brought me three boxes.  Nancy is the keeper of the family buttons accumulated over the course of much of the last century by my grandmother, Aunt Nora and Aunt Sadie.  In one of the boxes Nan brought, was a collection of pearl buttons that had once been Aunt Sadie's.  Nancy made me promise that they would stay in the family if indeed they found their way into a new life as jewels.

For a couple of weeks, I've tried to make my button jewellery idea work.  Every attempt failed - until today.  Today my friend Dale came over for our semi-annual play day.  A couple of times a year, Dale and I spend a few hours doing crafts.  She teaches me something and I teach her something.  It's a good system.  Perhaps because it was such a fun time, with no expectations and full freedom to experiment without any pressure to produce, the pieces came together.  My button jewellery designs moved from concept to completion.  Aunt Sadie's pearl buttons are in a single bracelet.  It's quite lovely.  A button from my maternity suit is now one of several terrific buttons on an art-deco-style bracelet.  I have a couple of other pieces in progress, one a bracelet of variously coloured abalone shell buttons, the other a grouping of interesting brass buttons.  Unfortunately, I too soon lost the daylight and my old eyes no longer allow me to do the fine work in artificial light.  I will finish them in the morning before my client meeting.  It won't take me long.

I've really enjoyed this experiment.  I think I'm going to dig out some of the other trinkets and scraps I've held on to these many years and try to breathe new life and purpose into them too.

G Whiz

"Baseball is like driving, it's the one who gets home safely that counts."  - Tommy Lasorda

Another rite of passage.  Another success.  Today Jacob passed his G license test.  The G test is the last in Ontario's graduated licensing program.  Last month, Jacob took the test for the first time without success, but this morning he nailed it.

 

As the test was scheduled for 8:30 this morning in Guelph, I booked myself into the Delta to ensure Jacob would have adequate practice time last night and this morning.  He was in stress overload last night so we had a bite to eat and I convinced him to just go home and go to bed so he might face this morning with a clearer head.  And that's what he did.  While he rested, I went back to the hotel and made the women's table gifts for our Newfoundland-themed Christmas Eve dinner.  Earlier in the day before heading to Guelph, I managed to find some faceted labradorite beads at a bead store on Queen Street.  I tucked my beading supplies into my bag in case I found myself unable to sleep and in need of a relaxing activity.  There's nothing like beading to get me to my Zen space.

When I finally finished the gifts around midnight, I decided to settle into bed.  But sleep was not to be.  I got a call from one of Jacob's friends who needed a shoulder to cry on.  By one o'clock I was struggling to stay awake.  At long last he settled down and was ready to go to sleep too.  I managed a couple of fitful hours before I got up and made my way to Jacob's before the sun rose. 

Jacob was nervous about the test but in control of the situation.  It was glimpsing that confidence this morning that made me know he would have a successful result today.  I am very proud.

Fifty Shades of Grey Cup

"When we Canadians look at the Grey Cup, we see far more than a gleaming football trophy; we see a reflection of ourselves" - Stephen Brunt 

In spite of neither of us being big football fans, Merv and I headed downtown yesterday to attend the Sun Life Grey Cup Party.  It was a chance to meet some football players and see the Grey Cup up close.  There was even a draw for two pairs of tickets to attend the game and a couple of chances to carry the cup along the parade route.  We didn't win.

We did have a lot of fun though.  I was entertained looking at the array of people headed downtown on the subway in the afternoon.  Young and old, the subway was packed with Grey Cup revellers of all types.  There were a lot of painted blue faces and a lot of expensive Argos jackets.  Some people were wearing their game tickets on lanyards around their necks.  The excitement was palpable.

At the Sun Life party, we met Hamilton Tiger Cats player Kevin Eiben who graciously signed an autograph for Jacob and posed for a picture with me.  A little later, Merv and I each had our photos taken with former Argos great, Doug Flutie.  Doug most graciously signed my Sun Life Grey Cup t-shirt, also for Jacob.  We each received a gift bag courtesy of Sun Life with a shirt, hat, noisemaker and a package of cocoa.

When the Grey Cup  parade reached our party, a couple of lucky draw winners took possession of it and carried it along the parade route towards the Rogers Centre.  Immediately after they left, the management of Sun Life presented a five million dollar cheque to the University Health Network for diabetes prevention and treatment.

All in all, it was a fun afternoon.  We were home in time to watch the pre-game interviews and the kick-off.  We even watched the first half of the game and the half-time show.  I didn't tune in again until shortly before the end of the game.  It was an exciting night for Toronto.  The win gave our city a much needed boost.  Little did I know a second boost was coming this morning with the ouster of Mayor Rob Ford.  As of the evening news tonight, he is vowing to appeal this morning's ruling and fight to keep his seat.  I hope with some time to reflect, he will decide instead to be honourable, take his medicine and step aside.  If he wants to teach the high school football team he coaches, a valuable lesson in life, he would do well to demonstrate how to be a gracious loser.

That's Who

"Who are you
Who who who who
Who are you
Who who who who"
- Lyrics from "Who Are You" by The Who

Part of the British themed anniversary gift I gave Merv for our anniversary in August, was a pair of tickets to see The Who at the Air Canada Centre last night.  The concert was part of the Quadrophenia tour, the second of The Who's rock operas.  The Who was preceded  by an opening act called "Vintage Trouble" which did a more than respectable job of warming up the audience.  The lead singer seemed to be channelling James Brown.

It wasn't until shortly before The Who took the stage that our seat mates took their place.  I don't tend to have much luck with seat mates.  I swear somehow the universe conspires to put the largest person in the place in the seat next to me.  Last night was no exception.  The man occupying the adjacent seat was at least 6'6" tall and he seemed almost that wide.  He was in and out of the seats several times, making runs for beer and refreshments.  On his first foray back from the beer stand, while I was watching the band, I didn't see him coming.  Rather than excusing himself and allowing me an opportunity to stand and give him space, he barged through, stepping hard on my foot with the full force of his 300 pounds.  This morning, I have two purple toes.

The Who performed without breaks for two-and-a-half hours.  When they finished Quadrophenia, they sang a few of their old songs.  At that point the whole audience was on its feet, including the hulk next to me.  When he started swinging his arms, I began to feel completely intimidated so I sat down.  I didn't see the stage again until the very last song.

I was amazed by the energy of the band.  Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend are in their late sixties now.  They can still sing and still play.  My only note for an improved performance would be for Roger Daltery - Roger, you are sixty eight years old, please button up your shirt.  Other than that, their performance was flawless.  All in all, it was a good night.

Ceasefire

"War may sometimes be a necessary evil.  But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good.  We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other's children."  - Jimmy Carter

Along with much of the rest of the world, I've been holding my breath the last couple of weeks while I've watched events unfold in the Middle East.  It was with relief that I received the news yesterday that the Israelis and the Palestinians of Gaza had agreed to a ceasefire. Let's hope it holds.  I was bemused this morning by the headline in today's Toronto Star:  "Both sides claim victory in ceasefire".  It's a well done mediation that makes both sides think they've won.

I don't know what the solution is to the conflict that has gone on for so many years between the Israelis and their Arab neighbours.  I can't even pretend that I understand all the root causes of the conflict or the multi-faceted history of how the Middle East got to be the unholy mess it is today.  But I do know that somehow, in some way, the whole world needs a solution to this conflict.  Every flare-up of tensions there, sends the rest of us into angst. 

I do know the solution can't be war.  Even the victors don't win in a war.  The Israelis need to feel safe.  The Palestinians need to feel hopeful.  A lasting peace is going to require that both sides feel like winners.  I'll keep praying.

Tension

"The name's Bond.  James Bond." - 007 in every James Bond movie

I spent the best part of Saturday cleaning the kitchen cupboards and eliminating all traces of evidence that we've been visited again by mice.  The prospect of the clean up kept me from sleeping for much of Friday night.  It was truly terrifying for me to go through the cupboards, not knowing what I would find.  I realized it was unlikely any mice would be running around in the cupboards in the middle of the day or when I was making so much noise but my severe rodent phobia is not rational.  I know I'm bigger than they are and they're not going to hurt me but it's not about that.  By the fourth hour of cleaning and trying to stuff every crevice with steel wool, I decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to slip a drop or two of Baileys into my coffee. 

As I was cleaning the last cupboard, Merv asked if I'd like to go see the new James Bond movie, Skyfall.  As soon as I was done, I raced upstairs to wash up and change my clothes.  Luckily, Merv bought our tickets on-line.  Even then, we were at the back of a very long line of ticket holders waiting to get into the theatre.  We were able to grab a couple of really good seats.  The movie was excellent, suspenseful and intense.  I was captivated from beginning to end. When it was finally over, I was spent.  Between mouse clean up and James Bond, it's a wonder I didn't have a heart attack.

The week promises to be busy with appointments and work.  Whatever surprises it brings, I hope there won't be any rodents involved.

Lucky Seven

I have heard there are troubles of
   more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat.  I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have
   troubles with me!
~Dr. Seuss

My darling friend Sara just sent me a text to wish me a happy anniversary.  As my wedding anniversary is in August, I didn't know what she was talking about.  How I let this day dawn without realizing it's meaning is beyond me.  Today is my cancer-free anniversary.  Seven years.  A gift from God.  I am grateful beyond measure.

Of Mice and Son

"When the mice laugh at the cat, there is a hole nearby." - Nigerian Proverb

I started my day with a text message from Jacob.  He is having roommate and girlfriend trouble and he's at his wits end.  Unfortunately, what he really needs to do is move out of the house he has been living in the past three years.  When he started dating one of his roommates last term, he knew it could get complicated and messy.  I don't think he realized just how complicated and messy it would get.  Suffice it to say, another of his roommates hasn't handled the romance well.  She has made it her personal mission to make Jacob and Courtney miserable.  And she has succeeded.  He is so unhappy that after speaking with him this morning, I spent an hour looking for housing alternatives that I could suggest to him.  Though decent, temporary housing is expensive, I'm prepared to move him this weekend if need be and to keep him there until we can figure out a better alternative for next term.  In the interim, I've suggested he might have a couple of straightforward conversations with some friends and at the very least do a reality check with the help of more objective views. 

Hearing that he is so unhappy, was a tough start to my day because if he's unhappy, I'm unhappy.  It's taking all my strength to stop from getting in my car, and setting his roommate straight.  How dare she hurt my baby.  I won't do it but I want to.  I know that it's in his best interest to work this out for himself and that my role is limited to giving my best advice only when asked.  It's hard.

Unfortunately, my day deteriorated from there when I opened the cupboard under the kitchen sink to find evidence of mice.  The exterminator was here within a half hour.  He tells me it is a minor infestation, very new and limited to the cupboard under the sink and the adjacent cupboards containing cleaning products and pots and pans.  In consideration of the severity of my rodent phobia, there is no such thing to me as a minor infestation.  When we last had this problem, three years ago, Merv caulked the wall between the garage and the house.  Some inspection this morning showed that some of that caulking had been pulled away.  He promises me he will redo it this weekend.  I will empty all the kitchen cupboards, sterilize them and seal all the spaces around the pipes and hope that I can sleep again sometime in the next month or two.  No guarantees.  The exterminator laid all the bait boxes out and is confident that should take care of the problem.  But I'm nervous.  If worse comes to worse, I'll be looking for temporary accomodation for me too.

Four More Years

"We are not as divided as our politics suggests. We’re not as cynical as the pundits believe. We are greater than the sum of our individual ambitions, and we remain more than a collection of red states and blue states." - Barack Obama in his victory speech last night

It was as engaging and suspenseful as an action thriller, though considerably longer. Neither  CNN's Wolf Blizer nor Anderson Cooper were quite as enthralling as Denzel Washington, but John King at the magic wall certainly captured my full attention.  Red states, blue states, political pundits, voter analysis at the most intricate level, races with hair-thin margins that kept switching from blue to red and back - by the time CNN called it for Obama, I was a nervous wreck.  I really wanted to go to bed at that point, but the last time I went to bed immediately following the CNN call was the night I went to bed believing that Al Gore had beaten George Bush.  Actually, I still believe that but I digress. I wanted to be sure I wasn't going to wake up this morning and hear that they had changed their minds.

I dozed a bit in the half hour before Mitt Romney made his concession speech which was short and I thought a little sad.  I'm not a Mitt fan but I felt a bit sorry for him.  I don't think it occurred to Mr. Romney that he might actually lose the election because he thought God was on his side.

It was an electrified Barack Obama who finally took the stage to make his victory speech. Not known as a great orator, Mr. Obama outdid himself last night.  He spoke with passion, emotion and conviction.  He held out an olive branch to Mr. Romney and the Republican party.  It was a wonderful speech to witness.

Today I have been listening to the pundits already talking about the trouble Mr. Obama will have in getting anything done in these next four years.  Many Republicans are claiming the President didn't get a mandate last night.  I don't really know how they can believe that, given that he was re-elected and ahead in the popular vote.  I hope in the days and weeks to come, our American neighbours find a way to put the rancor and divisiveness behind them.  If not, it's going to be a long four years.

Vegas Rules

"There's just no quiet in Vegas." - Barry Manilow

Last February at my dear friend Colleen's birthday party, a group of women decided in a fanciful conversation that it would be fun to take a trip to Las Vegas - no kids, no partners.  I am writing this blog on the plane, headed home from a very fun, but very exhausting trip with four delightful women.  Though there was a time when we thought we would be a larger group, it ended up being Colleen, her sister Jocelyn, sister-in-law Christine, dearest childhood friend Janine and me.  We five range in age from 37 to 57, Christine being the former and I the latter.  Christine is an oncologist, Janine a neo-natal nurse, Colleen an accountant, Jocelyn a business woman and I, of course, an HR consultant.  Janine lives in Ottawa.  Christine lives in Vancouver.  At first blush, it would seem that we do not share much in common, but we are women and women somehow always seem to find the commonalities in our lives.  To start, we are all mothers and though our children range in age from four to twenty-two, we all love them and worry about them.  We never ran out of conversation.  We laughed a lot.  Shopped a lot.  Ate a lot.  And considering none of us is much of a drinker - drank a lot.  We shared clothes, and makeup and stories.  We spent an afternoon at Macy's making Janine over from head to toe in the earnest hope that at the end of the day, she would see what a beautiful woman she is.  Cristine bought Loubitan shoes, giving me a great vicarious thrill.  Colleen bought a beautiful dress to wear at her partner's Christmas party.  We all wish we could be there to see his reaction when she emerges in that dress.  We all treated ourselves to a new outfit or two and we all shopped for our kids.

What we didn't do much of, was sleep.  We started our days in the early morning and ended them in the early morning.  We went to a couple of shows and shared a couple of great dinners.  We gambled a little, sat at the pool a little, and talked, and talked, and talked.  The fanciful notion of another long weekend together next year arose in our conversation.  Another four days in Vegas would be great by me.

Parking and Polishing

"A real patriot is the fellow who gets a parking ticket and rejoices that the system works." - Bill Vaughan

I know, last spring, I swore on this very blog that I wouldn't do the rummage sale at my mom's nursing home again but even as I said it, I knew I would probably get sucked back in.  The sale that's normally held before Christmas was advanced to next weekend this year.  So for the past two weeks, I've been trying to get things ready for the sale.  The truth is that I've been working on this sale for the last five months.  Because we had so few donations the past couple of sales, I didn't want to be caught again scrambling for something to sell to make the residents happy.  So for months, I've been buying grab bags of used jewellery from Value Village, never quite sure of what I'll find but optimistic that there will be enough to create a solid inventory after I've spent hours cleaning, sorting, repairing, pricing and displaying the pieces.  It has actually been quite interesting.  You would be amazed by what people toss into a Value Village bag without any seeming clue of its value.  I've bought $6 bags that contained about $2 of salvageable goods.  And I've bought $2 bags that contained a $100 dollars in goods.  Apparently many people aren't familiar with silver polish.  I've found many sterling items - chains, lockets, earrings, rings and bracelets that required little more than a dip and a polish to restore them to their original beauty.  One pair of earrings were set with lovely, genuine amethyst stones.  There have been lots of Swaroski crystal items and many, many watches that people decided weren't worth the change of a battery.  Each new bag is like a treasure hunt.

After these months of collecting, I came to learn that in the last couple of weeks, a whole lot of donations have come in.  Some of the pieces are very old and very beautiful.  Most needed a fair bit of work.  Someone passed along a whole lot of Mexican silver, all great pieces and all in need of serious cleaning.  So today I headed to mom's nursing home to put in a day of sale preparation.  The weather is terrible and in my haste to get from my car into the building, I forgot to put my parking permit on the dashboard.  When I remembered a couple of hours later, I braved the hurricane winds and lashing rain to run back to my car to put it out.  Too late.  There was a ticket on my windshield for $69.75.  It took some grovelling to get that ticket cancelled.

Tomorrow I will head back to try to finish things up.  I feel terrible about it, but I won't be at the sale on Saturday to help Nan.  Months ago I planned a long weekend trip with some friends to Las Vegas.  I want to get as much done as possible to set everything up so Nan can just put it out.  It's going to be hard enough for her to manage selling without me.  She will ask a friend to help her out but we've done it so many times together now, that we're like a well oiled machine.  And the sale is always frenetic.

I'll be wishing her luck on Saturday and hoping for a little of my own.  Shopping, a couple of shows, good meals and time with some girlfriends will make me feel like a winner whether or not the slots pay off in Vegas.

The Cage of Madwomen

"The best of times is now.
What's left of Summer
But a faded rose?
The best of times is now.
As for tomorrow,
Well, who knows? Who knows? Who knows?
So hold this moment fast,
And live and love
As hard as you know how.
And make this moment last,
Because the best of times is now,
Is now, is now.
Now, not some forgotten yesterday.
Now, tomorrow is too far away."
- Lyrics from The Best of Times in La Cage aux Folles 

I caught the subway to meet Cath downtown so we could go together to see La Cage aux Folles.  Our husbands are enjoying a boys weekend at Belmont Lake and as Merv had no particular desire to see this production in our subscription series, I took Cath instead.    I don't take the subway very often but it is an interesting place to watch people.  I was struck tonight by the commonality of the eight people who were seated around me on the Sheppard line.  They were clearly of different ethnic origins and probably represented a range of socio-economic classes.  But they all had three things in common.  They were all young and all had earbuds in their ears and were all engaged with their phones.  I started to think about that a little.  I wonder what it says about a generation of people who are plugged in but tuned out.  They are oblivious to the things around them - the here and now of the world.  And I wonder when it happened that young people began to feel the need to be entertained every moment of everyday.

Before we went to the Royal Alex for the play, Cath and I enjoyed a delicious dinner at Baroote's.  I indulged in a succulent lobster potpie and treated myself to a glass of prosecco.  Then it was off to the theatre.  I'm not sure how old George Hamilton is but my guess is that at the very least he's pushing seventy.  He's not much of a singer but he looks good and he can still move.  The show was fun, not a stellar production but certainly an entertaining way to pass a few hours. A couple of the songs were catchy and in spite of the levity, were actually quite profound.   It was a fun night, a good night. And as the song reminded me, the best of times is now.

Legal (Dis)Ease

"The trouble with law is lawyers." - Clarence Darrow

My day yesterday was spent in an employment law summit that so nearly bored me to death, I imagined it would be less painful to stick pins in my eyes.  That being said, I needed the continuing professional development hours to keep my paralegal license current so I stayed.  The seminar hall had emptied by half when we resumed after the lunch break.  Once you've paid your money and checked in at the registration desk in the morning, there is no need to prove that you actually attended the sessions.  One could presume that those who left returned promptly to their offices and watched the sessions on the webcast.  But if you believe that, I have some swamp land in Florida I'd like to talk to you about.  I did have a few moments when I considered skipping out.  No one would have known other than me.  But that was the problem.  I would have known I didn't really put the hours in and so I could not, in all good conscience have claimed them toward my requirements.  Pesky thing, that conscience of mine.

I sincerely hope the next program I attend in a couple of weeks on social media and employment has a little more meat on the bones.  The programs are expensive and I'd sure like to get more out of them than just meeting my CPD hours requirements.

The ravine behind our house moved from golden to burnt orange this week.  It's really quite lovely.  I've been thinking about digging out some carnelian stones from my inventory and making a few new pieces.  If memory serves me correctly, there are even a few orange pearls left from one of last year's projects and some citrine stones as well.  I'm sure with a little thought and some inspiration, I will figure out how to reflect the ravine vista in a necklace or two.

The Pink Tree

"Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?"  -  Hal Borland

I love these autumn mornings when I wake up and see the changing leaves greet me from our bedroom window. We've been promised a colourful display this year and so far I am not disappointed.  The ravine is glorious, much of it still green but also a brilliant golden yellow and a rich scarlet red.  Yesterday when brewing my morning coffee, I looked out the kitchen window and spotted a pink tree.  Thinking that the light was creating an illusion, I stepped out on the balcony to get a clear look.  There was no illusion.  The tree is turning pink with some undertones of violet.  We've lived in this house for ten years and that tree has been in the ravine the whole time.  I've never seen it turn pink before.  It's absolutely beautiful.

Thanksgiving weekend is almost upon us.  My heart is full.  My life an embarrassment of riches.  Tomorrow I will pick up Jacob and Courtney from school.  The house will come to life.  We will have dinner on Sunday at Cath's.  There will be turkey and pumpkin pie.  We will express our gratitude for family and friends and the abundance of our blessings, too plentiful to enumerate.  Somewhere in the quiet hours, I will take some time to reflect on my own good fortune.  And when I thank the universe for the  many wonders of my life, I will be adding a lovely pink tree to the list.

Back to the 80s

Time does not exist. It is simply an illusion of our mind created by our own biological and cultural evolution. - David Lewis Anderson

I've been time travelling for the past week.  The launch of Tricia Dower's brilliant new book, Stony River, was a reunion of sorts of old friends and colleagues from my days at the Halifax Life.  The group included people I haven't seen in as long as 24 years.  Some of them I last saw at my wedding in August 1989.  On the morning of the launch, I woke in high frazzle.  I spent the day obsessing about how people would see me after all these years.  In my mind, I was the only one who aged.  The only one who lost my figure.  The only one with wrinkles.  I called my hairdresser and arranged for an emergency appointment.  My hair looked great but my angst was ridiculous. 

I've never considered myself to be particularly vain but that day challenged my view of myself.  I spent the day trying to figure out what to wear.  Would people recognize me?  Would they be shocked?  I wished I had gone on a crash diet the minute I had received the invitation.  Perhaps I could have been down five pounds.  Maybe I should have had a bit of botox or bought a firmer girdle.  All day, the voice in my head shouted about my inadequacies.  By mid-afternoon, I declared myself pathetic.  I picked a dress, did my makeup and headed downtown.

I probably don't have to tell the rest.  Of course they recognized me.  I had a harder time recognizing some of them.  Amazingly they were all 23 or 24 years older too.  No one had their 30-year-old figure save my friend Bernard who is as beautiful as he was all those years ago.  Though the packages had altered a bit, it wasn't hard to see all the bright youthful souls still shining in their eyes. And several of the women confessed to spending the day experiencing much of the same angst as I.

I've been thinking back to those days in the 80s when we all worked together.  Most of us were in our thirties and at the height of our physical beauty.  Sadly, I didn't know in those days that I was a beautiful woman.  I was still suffering from a chronic case of ugly duckling syndrome.  It was only in my early fifties when I looked back at old photos of myself, that I realized I was actually quite attractive.  What a waste.

A few days after the book launch, I hosted a reunion dinner for the group of women who worked together and hung out together in those days.  This was only our second time being all together since my wedding, the first reunion occurring in the spring of 2010.  It was nicer this time, easier, more fun.  No one was obsessing about how we look or worrying about what the others would think about us.  It was warmer, more real, more loving.  Colleen, Gail and Cecilia were all tired after crazy workdays so they left shortly before ten.  But Julie stayed behind.  We cleaned up the kitchen and then sat at the table and talked until eleven thirty.  I loved the time with her.  We were so close years ago and then so distant for so long.  The time alone was a gift.

Today I had lunch with two lovely women, both in their thirties.  We talked about their feelings about themselves.  I was sad to realize they don't know that they are beautiful women.  I hope it doesn't take them 24 years to figure it out.

Still Glittering

“Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without one.”
Old Chinese Proverb

The 2012 Weekend to End Women's Cancers started in biblical rains and ended in brilliant sunshine.  By the time the walkers had reached our hydration station on Saturday, the rain had mostly ended save the occasional cloud burst.  Unfortunately, many of the walkers were suffering from the foot problems that arise from walking in wet shoes and socks but few of them were complaining.  They mainly walked through knowing that the finish line was less than six kilometers away.  

We were a small crew this year but a great crew.  The people assigned to our station were all workers, prepared to roll up their sleeves and completely in tune with our commitment to truly serve our walkers.  Excellence in service has been the core value of our crew since the very first year we got together in 2007.  Participants who do the walk year after year know and remember us.  We are the station where walkers will truly be served.  No one coming through our station is required to do more that tell us what they want.  We will bring them a cup full of water or Gatorade or fill their bottles if they prefer.  We will unscrew the caps and retighten them.  We will take their pictures, open their bandage papers, help them untie or retie their shoes.  We will hug them and thank them.  Laugh with them.  Cry with them.  And sometimes even pray with them.  Whatever they want.  Whatever they need.

On Sunday our station was set up at Budapest Park.  It was a great location with an incredible view of the beach.  There were trumpet swans swimming just a few feet from us and kayakers paddling close to the shore.  It served as a wonderful reminder of the incredible beauty of our city.  

The pink tulle, silk roses and acrylic diamonds have been packed away for another year.  But the Hope Diamonds will glitter on.  And next year, we'll be back to serve and spread hope at the 2013 event.

The Hope Diamonds

"When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure." - Peter Marshall

The 2012 Weekend to End Women's Cancers starts tomorrow. With my walking days behind me, I will spend the weekend working on the crew that supports the 5,000 women and men who will be making the 60K journey. Our theme for our hydration station this year is "The Hope Diamonds". Cath, Nan and I will be decked out in glittery black dresses with pink tights. We will wear sparkly hair clips and, at least in my case, glittery shoes. I've prepared five signs for our station, purchased a couple hundred plastic diamonds to sprinkle around the tables, a couple of thousand stickers and losts of tulle, pink glittery butterflies, and pink silk roses to decorate our station. Unfortunately, heavy rain is predicted for most of the weekend. Today I will be praying hard for a change in that forecast.

This will be the tenth time I have participated in this event - two times as a volunteer, four times as a walker and four times as crew. I am always inspired by the dedication and determination displayed by so many people. I dream of the day we won't need to do this event any more. The day when women's cancers will be a thing of the past. A day when my granddaughters will have and keep two healthy breasts throughout their long lives. And when that happens, we can turn the Weekend to End Women's Cancers into a different event - the Weekend to Celebrate the End of Women's Cancers. That's an event I'd love to attend.

One Cup of Coffee

"When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they're not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They're upset because they've gone from supervisor of a child's life to a spectator. It's like being the vice president of the United States." - Erma Bombeck

Since Jacob came home from school last April, my morning ritual has been the same. Get up, make coffee for the two of us, pour myself a cup, read the paper and wait for him to get up before I serve his coffee to him. This morning, I made one cup. I dropped him off in Guelph yesterday afternoon. The car was full to bursting. When I got home, the house was cavernously empty. At least we had the distraction of a dinner party hosted by Nancy and Aivars to celebrate the birthday of my friend Maurice. Maurice had been clear that he didn't want birthday gifts but I was struggling with that so in the small hours of Friday morning when I was still awake, I decided to make him some treats. By 6:00 A.M. I was baking brownies. By 7:30 A.M., I had a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. When I returned from Guelph, I made a tin of peanut butter caramel corn. It was yummy.

By the time we got home from dinner, I was beat. I fell into bed at barely 11:00 P.M., a rarity for me. At 6:30, I woke up with a start. The house is so quiet. It's not that Jacob normally makes noise at that hour of the day, but somehow the silence this morning was deafening.

The Hardest Goodbye

"Food, like a loving touch or a glimpse of divine power, has that ability to comfort."   Norman Kolnas

The shortribs are simmering in the slow cooker and the chili is simmering on the stove. Tomorrow Jacob is going back to school and I'm cooking up a storm to fill his freezer. Before we head to Guelph, we will stop at Costco and shop to fill his pantry. At least I won't have to worry about whether or not he's eating.

 It's hard to believe the summer has already passed. The days are still warm but the nights have become crisp. I will soon pack away my sun dresses and take out my sweaters. The Weekend to End Women's Cancers is little more than a week away. I have a book launch party and a reunion of old friends to look forward to. I'm trying not to be sad. Jacob is leaving. It's still hard.

The First Goodbye

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.” Irish Blessing

It is once again the season of goodbyes. My kids are going back to school. Tonight Jon came over for a last hug before he heads to Dalhousie in the morning. Tomorrow I will drive Courtney home, her last visit to Toronto done for this summer season. Sometime next week I will say goodbye to John, Sasha, Anthony, Wen Hao and Sara though it seems I saw them so little this summer, we barely said hello. On Friday I will drive Jacob to Guelph. Away from home for another year. I am already crying.

Eventually I'm going to get better at parting. I've had enough practise. I don't know why it's still so hard. It's just so different when Jacob is away. The house isn't just quiet, it's vacant. How one person can leave such a vast void is a mystery. But when he's not here, nothing feels the same. I should like some of it. I've been tripping over five pairs of his shoes at the front door for months now. Even when I put them away in his room, they mysteriously reappear within hours. I've decided to just leave them. In a few more days they will disappear and I suspect I'll miss seeing them greet me as I walk in.

A few nights ago, a bunch of the old Bayview Glen gang went out for dinner. Merv and I were also out. When we got home there were a dozen pairs of shoes at the door. The volume of chatter from the basement was high enough that I wouldn't have been able to hear the TV on the main floor if that's what I had wanted to do. But it wasn't. I greeted the kids and then sat upstairs savouring the sound of their laughter. The whole house was smiling.

The Agony of Defeat

"Winning is not everything, but wanting to win is." - Vince Lombardi

I have enjoyed watching the Olympics these past two weeks. At this point Canada has the same number of medals as we had in Beijing - albeit fewer of them gold. We have only once heard our anthem played as a Canadian medalist stepped onto the podium. It was been thrilling though to see our athletes accept their medals, no matter what the colour.

One thing I have really noticed about the games this time is the unprecedented number of tears being shed during interviews of the athletes. Tiffany Foster wailed on camera after she was disqualified because her horse had an injury. Diver Roseline Filion sobbed through an interview after finishing 10th and BMX rider, Connor McCormack cried pitifully when interviewed following his semi-final race when it turned out he did not qualify for the final. What is up with all the caterwauling? I understand that these athletes are disappointed but these public displays during interviews seem, at least to me, to be rather unbecoming and unsportsmanlike. In contrast, I didn't see the Women's Soccer Team crying after the game they lost to the U.S. team and they had good reason to cry. I know they made some controversial comments about the Norwegian referee but they didn't publicly cry. And Damian Warner exuded happiness when he finished fifth in the decathlon - thrilled to get so many personal bests and to be in London in the company of world class athletes and his family.

When the torch is extinguished on these games tomorrow, it is those athletes I will remember.

The Rock

"Back in Newfoundland, we played in the kitchen because it was the biggest and warmest room in the house.  Now, it's because it's the closest to the fridge."  - Alan Doyle

It is astonishingly beautiful, not to mention probably the friendliest place on earth.  Not a morsel of meat has crossed my lips since Sunday when we arrived.  It has been all fish, all the time.  This afternoon I thought I could feel gills sprouting from my sides.  I must admit there are some things about being in Newfoundland that I didn't expect - like the heat for one thing.  Everyone told me to pack my woolies.  My tiny suitcase is filled by jeans and socks, sweaters and shirts.  I wish there were a few more sundresses and a couple of pairs of sandals.  I knew outside St. John's the communities would be small but I didn't expect the vastness of the space between communities or that many, if not most of them would consist of less than ten houses.  I keep wondering about the lives of these people.  How do they cope with such isolation?  What do they do with their time?  I can't help but think about how small their lives must be.  For much of our trip we haven't even had cellphone service.

But still, part of me can see the attraction.  It is inspiring to be surrounded by such vast natural beauty.  Everyone knows everyone; speaks to everyone; watches out for everyone.  Their lives seem simpler and they seem happy.  We should all be so lucky.

It is a good vacation.  Jacob and Jonathan are great company for one another and fun to be with when we are all together.  Merv and I have guilt free quiet time without worrying that Jacob is bored.  The air is fresh.  The food is delicious.  The land is beautiful.  Who knew Newfoundland would be this spectacular?

Seriously?

"Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped." - Elbert Hubbard

I had a day yesterday - too many demands, not enough hours and only one frayed nerve left. Small annoyances seemed colossally aggravating. At the end of the day though, they were insignificant. But tossing in bed with a bad case of indigestion at 2 o'clock this morning, gave me some time to think about them.

My day didn't start the way I expected. I planned to do an hour of work from home and then begin running around to do the myriad of errands I needed to complete before attending a dinner party hosted by Cath and Stan to send our friend Brian off on his Olympic broadcasting odyssey. Turned out though that I was needed in the office and by the time I went in and completed my meeting, I was a full three hours behind in my schedule. As I was starved, I stopped into the little coffee shop near the office to order some toast with peanut butter. The breakfast hour was past and the lunch hour in full swing. Though I could have ordered a toasted sandwich, I was not, within the guidelines of the cafe, allowed to order toast and peanut butter. After some discussion among themselves, they acquiesced and allowed the order as a special favour. Seriously?

After hitting five stores to pick up various items, I finally made my way to Bayview Village. I went into the greeting card shop to buy a birthday card. When I handed it to the cashier, she asked for my e-mail address. Since when are people required to give an e-mail address when buying a four dollar greeting card? When did it become the standard to be asked for your postal code, e-mail address or phone number when making a cash purchase. Seriously?

Upon leaving the greeting card store, after refusing to give my address, I felt some urgency to visit the ladies room. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I know the location of every bathroom in every public place I've ever been. When I've got to go - I've got to go and I don't always have the luxury of a lot of time. So, of course, I know where the bathrooms are at Bayview Village. But I haven't been in them since the mall was renovated. I'm pleased to report that the bathrooms are renovated and lovely. The problem is, there are only four stalls. Yesterday, those four stalls were occupied and there were six women lined up ahead of me. Seriously?

It has been a far less annoying day. This morning, I stayed home.

Flight

"The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? — it is the same the angels breathe."    — Mark Twain

Last October at the silent auction of Eat to the Beat, I bought a sightseeing flight.  The flight was supposed to be over Toronto, but as the pilot is my friend Ron, I asked if we could change the venue to Belmont Lake where Ron and his wife have a cottage across the lake from Cath and Stan's lake house.  Today I took the flight in Ron's seaplane.

Accompanied by my sister Cathy, we soared over the Kawarthas: Belmont Lake, Round Lake, Cordoba Lake and Crow Lake.  It was breathtaking.  A bird's eyeview of this majestic land was a great beginning to the Canada Day weekend.  It reminded me of just how blessed we are to live in such a beautiful country where there is still so much unspoiled land.  It was a great experience to share with my sister.

Life is good.

Another Birthday

"Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life." - Daniel Francois Esprit Auber

My birthday has almost arrived and has become our tradition, we will be heading to the lake this afternoon for the Canada Day weekend. I've packed my suitcase with the casual clothes that make up my cottage wear but I've thrown in a dress for my birthday dinner which I expect we will have on Sunday in combination with our Canada Day celebration. Marg and Bob will join Cath, Stan, Merv, Jacob and I as we raise the flag, sing the national anthem and toast the splendor of our nation. We are lucky people.

Late this afternoon, Cath and I will take a flight over Belmont Lake in a seaplane owned by a friend of mine who happens to have a cottage across the lake from Cath's. I bought the flight at a silent auction last October and while it was for a flight over Toronto, my friend Ron was more than amenable to changing the venue to Belmont Lake.

I will also take some time this weekend, as I do every year in the days leading up to my birthday, to reflect on the past year and set some goals for the next. I am excited. I can feel it in my bones - 57 is going to be a great year.

Twenty Hours at Mt. Sinai

"How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

After a very busy week and weekend, I jumped into work on Monday with ferver.  I had some projects that couldn't wait even a day longer.  Of course, the best laid plans....

Shortly after three o'clock I got a call from my sister Nancy's neighbour.  Nan was sick, suffering from vertigo, nausea, headache, sweating and slurring her speech. One side of her face appeared a bit droopy. Julie had called Tele-Health who recommended that Nan go immediately to the hospital but Julie didn't want to call an ambulance without speaking with me first.  I told her to make the call and then call me to advise which hospital Nan was being taken to and I would meet her there. About twenty minutes later she called from the ambulance to say they were on their way to Mt. Sinai. I called Cath and we both went immediately to the hospital.

The last time I was at Mt. Sinai was a year ago when my mom nearly died in my car.  I remember how responsive the emergency staff was and what good care they gave my mother.  I expected the same for Nan.  The best laid plans...

During the time we spent in the corridor of the hospital emergency room, I saw many things and heard many stories.  We waited an unconscionable number of hours to even be seen and have Nan's condition evaluated by a doctor.  She was desperately sick and the general concern was that she had suffered a stroke or a neurological incident.  Apart from a perfunctory check by the emergency room doctor at around 5 o'clock, we didn't see another doctor until 1:20 A.M.  He told us she was being admitted, he was unsure what the problem was though it was likely not a stroke, and he hoped it wouldn't take long to get her in a room.  At 1:30 I sent Cath home.  We saw another doctor around 8 A.M.  He finally diagnosed an inner ear condition and advised there is no real treatment other than time.  He wants to keep her in the hospital for a day or two for observation.  We got into a room shortly before noon.  By that time we had been in the corridor of the ER for twenty hours.

The Mt. Sinai ER was a veritable zoo.  The vast majority of patients were very drunk or very high.  They were beligerant, argumentative and at times violent.  They also got the rooms where lights could be turned off and patients could have a modicum of privacy. The staff spent the vast majority of their time managing these people.  The rest of the patients, like Nan, were stacked up like cord wood in the hall.  There was little care offered and little attention given. To our immediate right was a woman with MS who had suffered a fall in her apartment and was in a great deal of pain.  To our left was a woman who had an auto-immune disease, the specifics of which were still being determined.  Around 2:00 A.M. she had three skin biopsies without the benefit of an anesthetic.  I could see her shoulders shaking from the pain.  When the doctors had finished I went to comfort her.  She was alone, sobbing.  While Nan slept with a towel over her eyes to block the bright flourescent lights, I sat next to the woman's stretcher, stroking her head and speaking softly to her.  She cried for her pain, for the miscarriage she had suffered a decade earlier, for the distance between herself and her brother, for the mess she felt she had made of her life.  She cried at the touch of someone to stroke her hair and tell her it would be alright.  On the other side of my sleeping sister, the woman cried and moaned and vomited.  An older man with a middle European accent piddled all the way down the hall then peed all over the bathroom floor - three times.  The bathroom was right next to Nan. The smell, an endless assault to my sensitive nose.  A very drunk man begged the nursing staff for cab fare instead of the subway token offered.  Another accused the security staff of being vampires.  Yet another accused the staff of stealing his keys and wallet from his blood and vomit covered clothes.  And on.  And on.  And on.

It was a long night.  A hard night. The plastic chairs hurt my back.  The bright lights hurt my eyes. I was ravenously hungry though there was nothing open where I could eat.  I am tired but I will sleep.  I will order dinner, too weary to cook.  I will be gentle with myself and allow some time for quiet reflection. At the end of it, Nan is okay. I am profoundly grateful.