Say It Isn't So, Mr. Hooper...

Recently Sesame Street celebrated its 40th anniversary. I love everything about Sesame Street (oh, except for Elmo -- I really don't like Elmo at all. Doesn't it ever bother anyone that he's supposed to be teaching children and yet he refers to himself in the 3rd person?) Anyway, I love Oscar and Big Bird and Snuffleufagus. I love Bert and Ernie and the Tweedlebugs. I love Gordon, Maria, Luis, Susan, David, Linda, Olivia (Gordon's sister, of course). I loved Mr. Hooper and cried when I found out he was gone. I never did get too attached to the new guy, though. I loved learning Spanish and the Ladybug picnic song and Kermit and that guy who would bang his head on the piano when he couldn't think of simple song lyrics. I bought one of my sisters a big Sesame Street encyclopedia once and she says it is one of her favorite books. So, imagine my dismay when I read, this morning, that you can buy early years of Sesame Street on DVD now, HOWEVER, they come with a disclaimer on the outside of the packaging that says, (and I kid you not)"For nostalgia purposes only. These episodes may not meet the needs of today's pre-school child." What???? Are they joking? Apparently not. Apparently there are issues: kids on SS didn't wear bike helmets, Cookie Monster eats unhealthily, Cookie Monster once or twice smoked a pipe when doing Monsterpiece Theatre, so this would seem to advocate smoking. Gordon once gave one of the kids from SS milk and cookies in his home (shocking!) Ernie and Bert live together, etc, etc. The bottom line is that someone, somewhere, thinks that the old SS isn't good enough. Oscar is too grouchy. Big Bird hallucinates an elephant-like friend. Too much violence from the aforementioned piano playing head-banging guy. We should all just try to forget what we learned from our friends at Sesame Street and go watch some more Hannah Montana.

Send in the Clowns

I really hate to say this, but I'm feeling just a tad bit embarassed about being an American right now. I'm sure it will pass, but if you would spend just a few minutes reading the news on CNN, you might be embarassed too. Hmm, what do we have today?:

1. A crazy family pretends that their child has been lifted away in a homemade balloon, prompting local authorities and the military to spend precious time and money. In the process, they convince their children to lie to all these important people. Apparently this is done in the hopes of securing a reality television show. Hmm...

2. A "beauty queen" who makes questionable photographic and video decisions and sees nothing wrong with parading around in a very small bathing suit in public becomes a national spokesperson for family values. Hmm...

3. A 19 year boy whose only claim to fame is exercising poor judgment with the daughter of a politician also makes questionable modelling decisions and says that he may want to pursue a career acting in films. Some now consider him a minor celebrity. Hmm...

Are people losing their minds? We are trying to hold together a civilization and this is the raw material we have to work with?

When will the artisans, chefs, architects, volunteers, medical researchers, nuns, and inner-city school teachers get the recognition due to them for their contributions to society? Maybe their problem is that they are doing TOO MUCH.

I Don't Even Know What to Call This...

You may be wondering why it has taken me 3 months to post something new. (Alternatively, if you have known me for any length of time and aren't just a blog stalker who's never actually met me, you're not all that surprised.) It's actually because I've spent the last 3 months trying to remember the username and password to sign into the blog. OK - that's an exaggeration. That's just what I've been doing for the past 15 minutes. (See my very early blog on passwords.) The real truth -- nothing, and yet everything to blog about. Nothing that seemed substantial enough to pass on to you, my faithful readers (when I say readers here I am trying not to assume that anyone other than my parents are reading this.) But I have to break my silence to muse on the simple and the profound -- the noteworthy and the not-worthy. Here goes:

1. I spent the early part of Friday morning at the dentist. What a great way to begin the weekend. I loathe the dentist. I've never had any real dental problems, but I don't like the idea or the experience at all. In fact, one time I even mentioned to the dentist, in case he wasn't aware, that people generally despise going to the dentist. He actually looked kind of hurt, like he hadn't considered this at all when weighing his post-secondary options. In any case, on this particular trip to the dentist, like others before it, the hygienist mentioned, with some surprise (this is perplexing) that my gums tended to bleed a little. Imagine the shock she must have suffered -- she poked and prodded at some of the most sensitive tissue on my body, with a sharp metal hook, and lo and behold, some blood. I've often wanted to point out the irony to her, but usually think better of it. If she was a nicer person and had a better sense of humor, she wouldn't have become a dental hygienist, right? (Apologies right now to my cousin Jenna, who I'm sure is the exception when it comes to dental hygienists...) In exchange for this tiny bit of early morning sadism, I was presented with a travel sized tube of Crest and a reminder card for my NEXT dental visit.

2. H1N1. I prefer the colloquial title, "Swine Flu." In a nutshell, it's enough already. On pretty much a daily basis I receive CNN news updates, health reminders from the university Health & Safety person, notes from HR reminding us to prepare for an untimely absence from work, fliers in my newspaper announcing where to get my vaccine, additional announcements about how there's not enough vaccine so don't bother coming down. My personal favorite announcement was in this week's newspaper (I'm going to call it the Small Town Times -- small stories from a small town) - an insert reminding people that lines could be long when you come for your vaccine so bring "treats and toys for the youngsters." Really? Who uses the word youngsters? Here are a few things I know about Swine Flu, from this helpful lot of information:
a) You can't get it from eating bacon (yay!)
b) I'm not in any of the high risk groups, so really I can pretty much ignore everything I read
c) Apparently there is some confusion in my church about whether you can contract it from passing the peace (this is also known as handshaking time in all the non-liturgical churches) or taking communion. Some people are refusing to do either one. I figure if I contract Swine Flu from taking communion, then there's probably nothing I could have done to avoid getting it, if you know what I mean
d)I am more indispensible at work than I knew (or less than I thought -- I can't remember)
e) The vaccine is simultaneously dangerous, not dangerous, the most worthless thing in the world, a miracle drug, still exerimental, extensively tested, plentiful, and scarce.

3. My newest introspective revelation is that I am a self-proclaimed blog stalker. (Brace yourselves - I may have just coined a new phrase. Probably not, but maybe.) A blog stalker is someone who reads the blogs of people he or she doesn't know and then feels personally involved in these people's lives. A couple of cases in point -- some friends of ours have recently gone through an international adoption. Out of curiosity one day, I followed one of the links on their blog to another family's blog about their adoption journey. The story was heartbreaking and joyful and I found myself completely wrapped up in it. I read it from start to finish and found myself checking back with them on a regular basis to follow the process. If this family was to ever find out that a total stranger was shedding tears daily over their lives, they might be a bit frightened, disturbed, or at the very least, confused. Another one -- a friend of a friend suffered a tragedy a couple of years ago when her husband was killed in combat, leaving her alone with several young children. I didn't know this family, but I knew OF them. I found myself from time to time wondering how they were doing. I don't know if it was the military connection or having young children, or my own thinking about death, which I do on a regular basis. In any case, this wondering was re-opened for me yesterday as our church had its annual Remembrance Day (Veteran's Day) service. I was again thinking about this woman and her children. (Let me again remind you that this woman doesn't even know I exist.) So, I did what any normal curious person living in 2009 would do: I Googled her. That led me to a blog written by her and her new husband, who lost his wife of nearly 25 years to breast cancer. Imagine (if you know me at all and aren't yourself a blog stalker) the tears that I shed reading the story of how they came together in their grief and found love and formed a new, large family. Again, these people would surely think that something is wrong with me and that I have, in fact, no life. I can't decide if the blog stalking is perfectly healthy -- after all, it is a great thing to share one another's stories and burdens and it is these stories that help define our human-ness ---- or if it is unneccessarily obsessive and I should be spending more time writing and living my own story. Thoughts to ponder. If you are a blog stalker yourself, and don't actually know me personally, I don't judge you. You're welcome here!

4. This is not intended to mock, but merely to amuse. This is an actual excerpt from one of my children's vocabulary quiz (a matching exercise): Question: A church leader, Answer chosen by my child: Pneumonia . Maybe all the talk of H1N1 threw the child off their game. I really hope that's it.

Nice Try

You need to remember, as you read this blog, that I do not make any of these things up.

That being said, (Canadian friends - I'm sorry, but you may want to skip this entire blog entry...it's not personal):

1. Was travelling yesterday through Brantford, Ontario (home, ironically, of Wayne Gretzky) and noticed that Brantford is also home to the "Sports Hall of Recognition." Is this where you go if you can't make a Hall of Fame? Is this like the participation certificate of sports halls?

2. On a similar note, the CFL (Canadian Football League) has started its season again. There are a variety of reasons that I don't watch the games, but one of them is particularly relevant to the subject at hand. In the CFL, you can actually score a point for attempting a field goal, and missing. (As in "nice try" - "let's give them a point anyway!")

Completely true.

Your money's no good here

Have you ever been behind an old person at the grocery store? No, I mean a REALLY old person - the kind that still writes checks? You sigh as they fumble with the pen and write the amount out in long-hand. You roll your eyes and think, "Come on Aunt Bertha. Join the 21st century. NO ONE writes checks anymore!" Yesterday, I was Aunt Bertha. I got to the check-out and had nearly completed bagging my groceries in my eco-friendly bags when I decided to reach for my wallet. I quickly realized that I had left it in another more vacation-friendly bag. "Oh well," I thought to myself, "It's a good thing I have my checkbook." Wrong. I handed the check to my 15-year old cashier. He looked at it quizzically (I looked at this word very 'quizzically' for several minutes before consulting dictionary.com for the proper spelling) and then, with his eyes all scrunched up, told me he was still in training and would have to call his manager. Whatever. Go ahead. (said to myself while weeping for the future...) The manager comes over and also looks at the check...quizzically. "Is something wrong?" I finally asked, growing impatient with each furrow of their brows. "We don't take checks" the manager finally said. "Are you joking?" Usually I could not bring myself to be quite so outspoken in the face of retail authority -- that's why I married Ryan, so that I would never have to argue with someone about the value of tires or the quality/temperature of soup. I digress. The manager then went on to explain that they stopped taking checks 3 YEARS AGO!!! I fumbled with my explanation -- now there were a couple people behind me in line beginning to stare and I felt like that person whose child throws up in church -- people simultaneously feel both sympathy and loathing for you. Then the manager says to me, "Has it been a while?" What was he implying? That I'd been locked in the dungeon for the past 3 years and at my first opportunity to escape, I went to the supermarket? I don't usually write checks, I explained, but I hadn't realized that they were no longer considered legal tender. I guess pretty soon we'll be a cashless society where the tooth fairy just makes an online transfer to your account and you can swipe your debit card at church. Too late: At the Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Dallas, people have been paying their tithe by credit card for years. Apparently, they want the points. (Does God give points? - more importantly, does He still accept checks?)

Just Another Ordinary Day

I almost didn't get logged into this blog tonight. I was struggling to remember what is supposed to be a unique username and password combination. I find it both amusing and frustrating that in order to be considered a good, wise citizen we are supposed to a)choose a username and/or password that is such a unique combination of letters, numbers, and symbols, that no one will ever be able to hack into our most sensitive information (ie. Facebook account, Audiblebooks.com, savethechildren.org, etc) and at the same time b)never use the same username/password combination that you're currently using for another account. I've concluded that this is utterly impossible. Once I find my "unique combination", I'm using it for everything. Oh, because I forgot about rule c)never, ever write the username/password down anywhere. I don't know about you, but I have only so much room in my brain for that kind of thing. Like I said, once I've cleverly devised my system - that's the system I'm using. If anyone does ever figure it out, we're clearly toast. Our bank accounts, IRS files, DNA samples, Blue Jays Kids Club account information -- it will all be public record. Let's just hope that never happens. I know that this runs contrary to every film that they ever showed us about the End Times in Baptist church growing up but I for one am eagerly anticipating the day when they will just implant microchips under our skin. No more passwords. Just a simple scan. Seriously - I will gladly give up my privacy if it means never having to remember a password again. I recognize that this may be considered by some to basically be the Mark of the Beast, but it's a risk I'm willing to take.

My husband has just informed me from the kitchen that I might not be doing my full part for the environment as I keep forgetting to bring my used sandwich bags home from work. Note to self: must work harder on this.

A short tale about one of the events of my day: A gentleman of a certain age, let's call him, "Methusalah" or maybe just "M" for short, came into my office to sign up for a fall semester class. This is all well and good. This is what I get paid to do. When I think about it even now, I still can't quite put my finger on where the conversation started. But this man had a WEALTH of stories and somehow they were all interconnected. I was treated to tales of gang bosses working down on the pier, unsolved mysteries, Elvis impersonators, cases of mistaken identity, a burning house, several sailing accidents, the state of Canada's emergency rooms, the Grand Canyon, drunk driving, unrequited love, walking through a plate glass window at the local Chevy dealership, Cadillacs, ministry by dogsled in the Northwest Territories, the Residential Schools scandal, Geronimo, flash flooding, summer camp, and the exorbitant salaries of longshoremen. This was accomplished without taking a single breath. At one point I wasn't sure what I should do -- it was clear that he could have gone on for hours, with each story leading (naturally of course) into the next. Once I was sure that I had more than taken care of the issue for which he first came into the office, I stood next to my desk with my coffee cup in hand. Surely this would be a signal to any person. But "M" was undeterred. Finally I managed to extricate us both from my tiny office into the outer office, wherein lay the door to the outer world. We began to say our good-byes and then - "Can you tell me when that class is?" Escape had been within my grasp, but I watched it slip away, like a longshoreman through a plate glass window. We went back into my office and my response to his simple query prompted a new line of storytelling. I refused to sit this time, and perhaps it was my walking out of my office that led him to follow me and ultimately tip his proverbial hat on the way out the door into the hallway. The rest of my colleagues looked at me with eyes as big as saucers and a look on their faces of part admiration / part utter shock. The conversation in my office had kept them spellbound for 30 minutes and the morning's productivity was effectively in the toilet. "M" will be returning as a student. I'm not sure if I should mention it to the professor.

Nothing to Say

So if you truly have nothing even remotely worth writing about, should that be some kind of signal that you shouldn't be writing? I refuse to believe that. I think I'll just share with you all the musings in my head. Together, they must surely add up to something.

Ryan and I watched "When Harry Met Sally" the other night. It was about the billionth time I've seen it, but we hadn't watched it in a while (it was even Ryan's idea!) Anyway, there is a line in the beginning, when Harry and Sally are driving to New York where he asks her to tell him the story of her life and she says, "The story of my life won't even get us out of Chicago. Nothing's happened to me yet. That's why I'm going to New York." Harry: "So something can happen to you?" Sally: "I'm going to journalism school to become a writer." Harry: "So you can write about things that happen to other people?" This is how I feel sometimes. For instance - I have made a little habit of clicking on links to blogs on friends' blog sites. Most of the time, these secondary blogs are those of people I don't know. But I find them fascinating. One day I was in tears reading the story of the life of someone I don't even know. I've read about travels, adoptions, deaths, children, cooking, you name it. Is this strange? Is it like being addicted to soap operas? But I'm convinced that the reason I like it is because it seems like so much is happening to all these other people! That might be a stretch of a tie-in to Harry & Sally, but there it is.

Loosely related to this are my current musings about reality television. Now, I don't actually watch any - not even "American Idol" if you can believe that. I've only seen part of one episode and that's because I was at my mom's and it was the night of the David Cook/David Archuletta Idol finale. (As an aside, my mother said, after this episode, that she thought the entire show was set up and she would never watch it again. Right.) But I digress. (and does "What Not to Wear" count as reality TV or serious documentary-style television?) Once, when home alone, sick, and with not a lot of motivation to do anything else, I flipped on "Jon & Kate plus 8." I didn't find it that entertaining -- really just one of those times when you find that your mouth is hanging open because you're watching someone with 8 small children fix lunches for all of them. Anyway, there's so much hoopla surrounding them right now. One wonders if they've done their children any favors by having them in front of a TV camera for the majority of their lives. I don't consider this "real" reality television, however. What's real about a family of 10 going to an amusement park. Could any REAL family of 10 afford to do that more than once in their lifetime? And is a million-dollar home REAL? If some TV producers want to come to my house, they can get an extra dose of "REAL reality." Here's Amy looking for something to wear. Here's Amy sorting through all the things that can't be worn because they're not ironed. Here's Amy throwing something wrinkled into the dryer with a damp towel, hoping that they'll come out looking freshly ironed. Here are kids fighting about nothing. Here is a cat, knocking a small terrarium (containing mud and one giant black ant) down out of the window, scattering mud (and one giant black ant, maybe) all over the floor and then staring at you like nothing happened. Here are a couple of kids saying that their "project" is due today. Here's a conversation that starts out, "What project?" Do you see what I mean? That is as real as it gets. Only no one would want to watch it because it would probably remind them too much of what they see every day anyway. :)

Wow - I'm re-reading this and realizing that out of nothing came something. Some semblance of a theme for this blog entry. (Had to look up semblance just now to make sure it was an actual word.)

Oh, and let me know if something interesting is happening in the life of someone you know. I may want to read their blog.

A Good Read

There's a wonderful set of books by Jacqueline Winspear that are all about circa-post-Great War female "psychologist and investigator" Maisie Dobbs. Grab one of these if you'd like a delightful read -- it's easy, but definitely not fluff. They're like eating an entire bowl of popcorn by yourself on a rainy day (substitute whatever metaphor is appropriate for you!) I also have to highly recommend Leif Enger's new book, So Brave, Young, and Handsome. I cried at the end, not because of the ending, but because the story was over and my new friends were gone.

Stuff White People Like

So, a new acquaintance (Thanks Tyler!) put me onto this blog: www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com It's not meant to be offensive and is very, very funny. Here's one that seemed appropriate for my blog:

#75 Threatening to Move to Canada: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/2/24/75-threatening-to-move-to-Canada/

Happy Mother's Day!

So, let me begin by saying that I'll be the first to admit that I have no idea what celebrities are like in their "real lives." (Other than, that is, sitting across from "Bo Duke" at a parent-teacher conference. He is "real" people! -- Some of you may have heard the story, ad nauseum, about John Schneider's daughter being in the first 5th grade class that I taught - my brush with fame!) But I digress... I find it fascinating that we often like to think that we know what celebrities are like because we are faithful followers of their TV series, or we've read about them in People, or we've seen them interviewed by Barbara Walters. I mean, we really know them, right? Case in point, a recent survey where people polled (I always want to know who these people really are) said that they thought that Jennifer Garner was America's best mom. Really? How did they know that? Do that many polled people run into Jennifer at Violet's preschool Christmas pageant or observe Ben Affleck and Jennifer reading their children stories at night? Or disciplining them in the grocery store? I can only assume that because they have given their children unique names, stay pretty much out of the tabloids, and seem "down to earth" that they (or she, really) deserves this title of Ultimate Parent. Now, I don't mean to be unkind at all to Jennifer, who is, as far as I know, a decent person. One who probably gets tired of reading about her life on the blogs of know-it-all citizens like myself. I just think it's interesting that fame can earn you the kind of title that I would like to reserve for mothers who do a great job and have no nanny or housekeeper whose resources they can utilize when they're feeling tired at the end of a long day (can you tell that I'm feeling tired at the end of a long day?) I suppose what really gets me (and may get to Jennifer and Ben and their celebrity comrades) is that people who don't really know them, get to act as if they do. Another case in point -- "Which celebrity would you be most confident in as a babysitter?" Another totally inane question. Runner-up?: The childless, but obviously uber-sitter, Jennifer Anniston. Why do "we" think she would be a faithful and conscientious sitter? Because we like her hair? Because we enjoyed her body of work on "Friends"? Also in contention for this title were her nemesis and ex-partner, Angelina and Brad (I find it odd that people with 6 children should lose to someone with less child-sitting experience). Winners in this category were Ellen De Generes and her partner Portia Rossi. They don't have children either, but Ellen has a popular talk show, so they must be good choices, right? If I were asked the question, I swear that I would have had to say that since I don't actually KNOW any celebrities - (although I wouldn't hesitate if anyone - celebrity or not - offered to take my kids for the evening )- how do I know who would make the best (or worst) babysitter? My personal heroes are the people I know who, with less money and less support, do heroic things every day -- friends who selflessly care for disabled children, friends who sacrifice precious money and time to pursue the adoption of children who've been abandoned (and who don't have names like Madonna or Angelina -- though I think it's good of them, too), friends who are single mothers who work long, hard hours with little thanks or appreciation, mothers who can single-handedly drive 5 kids from coast to coast in a Volvo wagon that "blows a gasket" in the California desert and still manages not only to get kids and luggage to Disneyland (whereupon they all survivie an earthquake) but manages to get them on a plane headed for a foreign land. And all without breaking a sweat. Thanks Mom! :)

Monopoly

Unbelievable as it sounds, the kids are into their 4th hour of a Monopoly game -- and there hasn't been any fighting since hour 1! While passing through the room, I heard Patrick tell Aidan, who was on the brink of losing everything, that he was going to be needing a Federal bailout! How timely... Also overheard, Patrick telling Annie that he was about to send her "spiralling into the deep, dark abyss of bankruptcy." I'm glad that all the time we've spent encouraging his vocabulary has not gone to waste. Perhaps if the tank commander thing doesn't work out, he can become a commentator for CNN.

Wow - January 23rd?

Is that really when I last posted -- January 23rd? I can't even remember January anymore. If you've read my blog for very long at all, you'll see that this is a familiar refrain. I am terrible at this. I've never been able to keep a diary. Every time I tried, I would leave it for months at a time, come back to it, and be so embarassed by what I read there that I trashed the thing. Except once. I managed to faithfully keep a journal starting when I met Ryan until the day we got married. It is sappy, and sometimes strange, and incredibly embarassing, but lovely to have. Of course, there's the awkwardness of the whole "pros and cons" list - trying to decide if I really wanted to marry this person. It seems utterly moronic now, but was all part of trying to discern the will of God. But I digress...
What's happening in the Land of O'Dowd that is at all noteworthy you ask? Well:
1. (Trying hard to think back to the end of January...)
2. We weathered our first Ontario winter, which, I have to say, PALES in comparison to a Sasktachewan one. In fact, when we would awake to the hometown DJ (and I do mean hometown DJ in every sense of the word "hometown") talking about the "brutal" week we were in for, Ryan and I would give each other a high five and laugh ourselves silly. The poor man had no idea what he was talking about.
3. Stacy and Jeff paid us a visit. Yay for family! When I'm with my family, I often wonder what life is like for people who live near their parents and siblings and get to spend time with them all the time. I'm envious of those people - most of the time! (just kidding family!) Anyway, we took in Niagara Falls, a Toronto Raptors game, and St. Patrick's Day at the pub.
4. All five of us ran in the "Around the Bay" road race - the oldest road race in North America. (Older Than Boston!) is what all the shirts say. Ryan had been training for the 30K, but months of slipping around on ice took their toll on his knee and he had to bow out at the last minute and take in the 5K. This was amusing, as it was too late to change his race bib -- you should have seen the double-takes after he finished and everyone we passed was trying to figure out if Ryan had actually beaten all the Kenyans! We did not, in fact, beat ANY Kenyans. Ryan took 3rd in his age group and I was beaten by him and both of the boys. Annie might have beaten me too if she hadn't hurt her foot and had to walk for half the race. But, I didn't stop running, which, besides not being hit by anyone's jog stroller, was my only goal for the day. Did I mention it was raining the whole time? Normally, I am strongly opposed to getting wet unless I am swimming or in the shower. I despise water gun fights, water balloons, sitting in the splash zone at Sea World, and singing in the rain. All the way to the race I kept thinking that any minute, Ryan was going to say "Let's forget the race and go to breakfast." But, alas, he has a more disciplined spirit and we braved the rain with 9,000 other people. A fun day was had by all. But my socks were wet.
5. The end of another school year at Redeemer has arrived. Ryan has taught his last class for the year and we're in the thick of final exams. For me, and the rest of the Academic Advisors, this means exam monitoring time. Tonight was my first go. My job is to catch cheaters. I have to walk around, examine water bottles for crib notes written on labels, check underneath hats for hidden formulas, and try my best to keep a straight face while doing it. We have to check the bathrooms - even the little feminine hygiene receptacles because you never know where someone might try to hide the answers. We have a hall monitor who we refer to as being on "Pee" duty - they have to ensure that only one person at a time enters the bathroom and doesn't stay for too long. We don't want to encourage unneccessary collaboration in the stalls. It's a very important job and I take it very seriously. (Last note written for the benefit of my boss who may read this blog...)
6. Spring is here and summer is just around the corner. Plans include dance recitals, birthdays, camp, trips, and the like. We'll be visiting Westpoint, mostly for the sake of Patrick, who, after watching (and reading) "Band of Brothers" has solidified his plans to go to West Point to pursue a career in the armored calvary. This is less than comforting to me. It's good that he's beginning to think more practically than "Professional Football Player" but a tank commander?
7. The kids still have a couple of months of school left. We're contemplating putting Annie in a private school next year. She is less confident in herself than the boys and apt to be more of a follower and this concerns us, considering the people that offer themselves up to be followed. This is a huge decision for us with many financial, social, and spiritual implications. Much wisdom is needed. Patrick will be in his last year of elementary school (which, in Canada, goes to 8th grade) and then high school. If you have little ones, pay attention when people tells you it goes by quickly. You have no idea.
8. Finally, I heard one of the DJ's on the radio (not the hometown one, this time) say "Dr. Suess" only he pronounced it "Dr. Zues". This isn't the first time I've heard this in Canada. It makes me laugh.

That last one was hardly newsworthy, but I hope it made you smile.

Sick Day

This almost feels like skipping school. I'm home legitimately today. Aidan is sick for the second day in a row. He has that croupy seal-bark cough. If you're a mom, you've heard it. If you're going to be a mom, prepare yourself for it. It can be very disconcerting in the middle of the night. Anyway, Ryan is teaching today so I stayed home with Aidan. And now I'm updating the blog. A shout out to our friend, Kerry Anderson, for introducing me to the wonderful world of blog backgrounds. This one was an impulse move, but they're free, so maybe I'll change it up later.

So, I'm thinking about friends today. How I have lots of them, scattered all over. And how I'm getting reacquainted with the "long-lost" variety, courtesy of Facebook. And how I'm so glad that there is email and blogs and Facebook, so I can feel not quite so distant from all of them. How I need my good ones desperately now. And how we've been here for 6 months and don't really have any. :( I'm not sure how to remedy this. It's been hard for my kids as well. And that breaks a mother's heart more than anything that could ever happen to me personally. We're no longer in an Air Force community, where people are used to lots of coming and going and everyone is generally welcoming. That's not to say that people here haven't been welcoming - but it's different. Everyone pretty much has an established social circle and they're not out looking for new recruits. The church that we've chosen is in our community, which we feel is important, but because it's both an Anglican church, and in a small town, that means virtually no one our age (or our kids' ages). Lots of people would say to that, "find a different church." But, for us, it's not that easy. We feel a strong conviction to worship with our neighbors and try to impact our local community, rather than travel across town to find the group that looks most like us. So, where to find friends? I'm thinking - just thinking - about trying to start a book club. I've never "started" anything in my life - unless you count the lame "detective" club in 5th grade. There's not a lot of detective work in the average elementary school. So, I'm thinking about this. And praying for God to give me some insight into our situation, and my kids' situation. Maybe we're meant to embrace our suffering for a while. Ryan wants to invite the across-the-street neighbors over for dinner. But since he's chatted with the neighbor guy only once or twice, while shovelling snow, and I've never talked to them at all, this feels weird to me. Do people do things like that? Will they think we're stalkers, or worse yet, desperate? :)

Eating Mercifully

Some friends (thanks Chad and Kacy) put me onto this DVD from the Humane Society (USA). You can request it free at this link: http://www.hsus.org/forms/eating_mercifully_dvd_request.html

Although I've only seen the preview, C&K say that it explores issues surrounding factory farming and animal cruelty, from a Christian perspective. The Humane Society has an "All Creatures Great and Small" campaign that is designed to provoke thinking and dialogue among Christians about the intersection of their faith and the lifestyle choices they make. (Here is my official disclaimer: "The views expressed in the DVD are that of the Humane Society and the DVD participants...") I don't think it's necessary for Christians to be vegetarians, but you'd be surprised how many people think that our food comes from farms where the animals are frolicking around until the moment of death, ala "Old MacDonald."

To my Canadian friends and neighbors: I've been unable to locate a similar campaign or DVD offer on the Humane Society Canada's webpage. But, at least if you're an expatriate, like me, you've probably mastered the art of sending things to your parents, siblings, and friends, and having them forward the stuff on to you!

Softball George Lives!

Allow me to tell you a story: About 6 years ago, Ryan and I and the kids moved to England for Ryan to do his PhD. We were fortunate to have our time there overlap by a year with my sister Stacy's Air Force assignment to England. Stacy has a friend named Janet. Janet dated a guy named George. George liked to talk about his softball team. A lot. So, my sister and her friends privately nicknamed him "Softball George." George gave Janet a plant. My sister and Janet privately named the plant, "Softball George." Janet moved away and gave Softball George (the plant, now, rather than the boyfriend, who was long gone at this time) to Stacy. Stacy moved away from England and gave Softball George to us. Keep in mind, at this point, that I have never been able to keep a plant alive (I will cite the examples of my husband Ryan's childhood cactus - given to him when he was 10 -- dead, soon after Ryan and I got married; and Wade Dumond's African violets - placed into my care when Wade went to Malawi as a missionary - soon, dead (the violets, not Wade, who, as I understand, is alive and happy) ) Nevertheless, we cared for Softball George and he thrived. We left England and gave Softball George to Josh and Bryonie, who not only cared for him in England, but also took him with them when they moved to Scotland. Josh finished his PhD and left Scotland for the USA. And I hadn't thought about Softball George for a long time. This week, Josh and Bryonie visited us in Ontario for an academic conference at Redeemer. At our table at lunch today, Ryan and I met Aaron, a friend of theirs from St. Andrews. Upon being introduced to us, Aaron exclaimed, "Oh - these are the people whose plant you gave us!" Softball George lives! Aaron and his family no longer live in Scotland, but they assured me that not only was Softball George still alive, that he was strong, healthy, quite tall, and living with another family. Who knows how far his legacy may stretch.

From the streets of London...

Adventures in Academic Advising

Most people reading this blog know that my out-of-the-house job is that of the Academic Advisor. It may not sound like the world's most amusing profession, but often, 18-22 year olds will give you a lot to laugh about (or roll your eyes, or make statements that start with "when I was in school...") There are the students who desperately try to get out of a 9AM class because "that's just so early." Really? If I just had to make it to work by 9AM every morning, I would feel like I'd been given a gift. Wait until they have children (statement not meant to frighten the friends mentioned in my previous post who are awaiting the birth of their firstborn). One student, a few weeks ago, used this method to try to pick a class: "Which classes don't have final exams?" His parents must be proud. Today, I had a very earnest, sincere student who asked me what he could do with a degree in Social Studies. Hmm. Tough one. While it is completely true that employers highly value a broad liberal arts education, and that, rather than qualifying you for a specific profession, Social Studies allows you to do all kinds of things, the student looked at me as if he interpreted my response as "not much." Two days ago, a student told me that she didn't want to take any classes where she had to learn "a lot of facts." Truth be told, though, for each funny story, I have at least a couple experiences where students are excited about the possibilities of the future, are creative in their pursuits, seeking God's voice in their decisions, and are thinking globally. Just don't ask them to do it before 11AM.

Thank You, Anonymous Friend

Here's a shout out to whichever of my dear friends (or family members) decide to surprise me with a copy of the "Discourses of Brigham Young". You must have known that I have had my eye on it at thriftbooks.com for a while now. Now if only I had a rainy day.... :)

Christmas at the O'Dowds

Blogging About Nothing

So, a current houseguest and friend told me that she keeps checking my blog, but hasn't seen anything since "the turkey one." So, I feel compelled to blog, but not sure what to talk about. There's quite a lot rambling around in this head. Oh, I know - babies. I've been thinking a lot about babies. (Don't anyone get either excited or nervous -- I've already been told that if I want another one of my own, I will have to find another husband. I like the one husband I have, so I guess I'll have to be content to talk and think about other people's babies...) Right now, my life is chock full of babies and the idea of babies -- there is my friend who waited a long time for marriage and babies and is now happily counting down the days until the second of those two arrives, my friends who've been trying for a while and God is rewarding their patience with not one, but two (!), there are friends who are waiting on a word from an African government so that they can bring their new daughter home, those whom I dearly love who had the promise of a baby who has now gone ahead of them into the arms of God, and those who are still waiting, waiting... It's interesting, and happy, and sad, to think how much joy and pain these little lives can bring. Recently, as we've begun Epiphany, I was thinking about the words of Simeon, in the temple, to Mary, about how her soul would one day be pierced - she didn't know at the time that this would be the death of her son. And I was remembering, too, the words of a pastor who remarked that the curse of pain in childbearing probably wasn't limited to just the physical laboring to bring children into the world, but that our pain would be extended as we worry about our children, grieve over injustices done to them or the consequences of foolish choices, and even, sometimes, have to say a last good-bye to them - at least until we are all renewed. I can't imagine my life without them, but then, neither could I have anticipated how hard it would be to raise them well. I didn't appreciate my own mom enough (sorry Mom!) - maybe no one fully does until they find themselves in the same position. Wow. It's hard. Thanks be to God that he doesn't leave us alone with them!
OK - new topic. Far less profound and warm and fuzzy. I call it "Ode to Bowl Season." You may begin to tune me out now if you are not a NCAA football fan. Or, at least skip down a few lines to the non-football banter. I love Bowl season. In our house, we like to have the Bowl games on, even if we're not watching them intently. We like the sounds -- the announcers, the marching bands, the clashing of helmets, the melodrama of the pre-game hype. And even though I sometimes wonder if the idea of your team making it to a Bowl is somehow diminished by the fact that there are SO MANY Bowl games now (I think I read somewhere that there are 60?) - how can you not appreciate getting to watch 60 more football games at the end of the regular season! At least if you're not living in Canada :( I'm sorry to my Canadian friends and neighbors, but never was more frustration felt in the O'Dowd household than when we went to turn on the Outback Bowl (or some other game) and found instead -- "World Championship Junior Hockey" -- exhibition games, at that. Disappointing. We weren't entirely thwarted -- we did get to see a bunch of them. My particular favorite thus far has been the Sugar Bowl. Bowl Buster team Utah crushed the hopes and desires of the Alabama Crimson Tide. There was much rejoicing here. At least by me -- since we live in the Eastern Time Zone, Ryan was long asleep when Utah dumped the Gatorade. I felt a surge of pride that a team from our own conference (the Mountain West - home of the Colorado State Rams and the US Air Force Academy Falcons) beat a mighty SEC team like Alabama. A school that is so proud, to the point of idolatrous, of its football team. Yay!!!!!
This brings up my last point - the end of the holiday season. I tried in vain this year not to set my expectations too high. I tried to tell myself that it wouldn't matter if I didn't do cut-out cookies with the kids. That it wouldn't matter if we didn't drive around to see the lights. Etc. Etc. However, myself didn't really listen, and as a result, I found myself as tired after the Christmas break, as I had been going into it. That doesn't seem right. I need a coalition of people around me all chanting the matra of "It just doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter." But the Martha Stewarts of the world are drowning those people out! Sisters - unite for simplicity! I need you!
This may go down as the most random of my blogs. Maybe the most random blog ever. Oh - before I forget - I want to put in a plug for a wonderful man and his wonderful stories. Mike Hamel is my friend Jenn's father-in-law and he's written the Matterhorn the Brave series of adventure books for the 8-12 year old set. If you know and love an 8-12 year old, you must check out this series. He based it on bedtime stories he developed for his children, and his children are all characters in the story (in fantastic forms!) He's recently lost his publisher and is searching for a new one, but his books can be found on Amazon. Let's support him and support quality books for kids! Our most voracious reader gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. High praise indeed.
Ending now.