Oh, Canada!

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

2009-11-21T14:53:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-13T13:13:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-11-09T16:29:00.000-08:00

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

2009-08-10T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-05T16:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-01T16:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-22T12:21:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-05-11T16:41:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-26T15:59:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-04-14T18:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-01-23T06:11:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-15T16:23:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-09T16:39:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-01-09T15:39:00.001-08:00

Adventures in Academic Advising

2009-01-09T14:57:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T14:55:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T14:52:00.000-08:00

Blogging About Nothing

2009-01-07T16:38:00.001-08:00

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.

A Morally Superior Turkey

2008-11-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

Because this is my blog, I get to be on my soapbox for a little while. My topic today: Thanksgiving and the plight of the factory turkey. Earlier this year Ryan and I read a book called "Farm Sanctuary." I recommend it to everyone. It's a great conversation starter and is - no pun intended - truly "food" for thought. The author is a vegan, but reading the book didn't make us want to be vegans. Gene Bauer runs two animal sanctuary farms - one in upstate New York and one in Southern California - for abused factory farm animals. His coverage of the treatment of animals on factory farms was enlightening and alarming. I have probably just been naive, but I was truly horrified to learn about the conditions in which factory farm animals live -- many in boxes or crates that don't allow them to sit, lie down, or turn around - ever. While I believe God has set us over the animals, I also think he expects us to protect them and treat them humanely. So while I still enjoy eating them (sorry little guys!) I want to know that the animals I'm eating had a safe, healthy life and weren't tortured for my access to cheap food. And that's basically what it comes down to -- the more animals a factory farm can cram in, the faster they can fatten them up, the cheaper the food is on the grocery shelf. Chickens are bred to have such large breasts (better for the shopper, right?) that they can't walk properly and often become crippled. Male chicks are thrown into mulchers because they aren't profitable for egg laying. Dying and dead animals are ground up to make feed for other animals. And the list goes on. As a family, we haven't come as far as we'd like to yet - that would mean buying our meat, eggs, and milk only from family farms, but we're making small strides. And this year, that includes buying what I like to call a "morally superior turkey." A turkey to eat - yes - but one that has been allowed to roam and peck and roost and all the things that birds naturally do. It costs a lot more than a Butterball, but it feels good to tell the kids that there are better ways to save money than supporting the cruel treatment of animals. It's good to be reminded that our food doesn't just magically appear on the grocery shelves -- we are accountable for what we buy at the market. So if you haven't purchased your Thanksgiving turkey, try Googling "Eat Local". And have a very happy Thanksgiving!

Veteran's/Remembrance Day

2008-11-12T16:07:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm a day late (and a dollar short, but I won't get into that...) I need to give a hearty salute to my grandfathers, my aunts and uncles, my "dads", my sister, Stacy, her husband, Jeff, my brothers-in-law, countless friends, and my own sweet husband, for the sacrifices they've made in the defense of our country and the fact that although they may not literally have laid their lives on the line on a daily basis, they are willing to. Thanks guys! And a special treat - from 12 year old Patrick, who, to my dismay, often expresses a desire to be a tank commander - here is a Veteran's Day poem:

Never Again

Remember, remember,
That morn of November,
When enemies signed for the killing to cease.

For most it was blessed,
For many overdue,
But many already rested in peace.

The firing has stopped,
The dead have been buried,
And we hope for it never again.

For the truth about war is
The blood and the gore
That we saw in those swampy mud fields.

And now many years later
Neither friends nor long haters
Can forget that peace was the goal

When soldiers one and each
Threw themselves in the breach
To protect their loved ones back home.

“Never again”, we say,
“Never again
Shall we relive those gory four years”.

Remember, we shall,
For we should not forget
That war only brings us tears

On this day we remember
That morn of November
And our friends and loved ones who rest.

2008-11-11T16:28:00.000-08:00

The Money Ghost and Hannah Montana

2008-11-11T16:27:00.000-08:00

The only child I have who will pose for shots like this.

Autumn Shots (or "Amy finally learned how to post photos!")

2008-11-11T16:22:00.001-08:00

Aidan apple-picking

Musings and Wanderings...

2008-11-11T15:46:00.000-08:00

That's a nice way of saying that I don't have anything in particular to talk about, but felt guilty that I had neglected the blog for so long. I have friends who are such faithful bloggers - but, then again, I have friends who are good singers, great scrapbookers, incredible athletes, perfect hostesses, and snappy interior decorators. I need to come to grips with the fact that I will never be any of those things, either. Hmm... where to begin?

I took a sick day yesterday. This is remarkable only because I have never, ever, taken a sick day. Not during student teaching or real teaching or at Briercrest, or really, at any time when I've been in the workforce. I think it's because, growing up, you didn't stay home unless you were REALLY sick. My current boss, though, is a firm believer that you do everyone else in the office a favor by staying home - so as not to infect the otherwise healthy work population. I wasn't crawling-across-the-floor-to-the-bathroom-sick (sans Mom and Dad and the dark Burger King episode of 1977), but I was fatigued and coughing and congested. So, I stayed. At first it was incredibly dull. When I really started getting into it (as evidenced by still being in a bathrobe at 1PM watching "What Not to Wear") I started to think that I hadn't been productive enough. What is that about? Is that a Protestant work ethic thing? Who needs to be productive when they're home sick? Anyway, I did read, cover to cover, a fabulous novel. It's called "Mudbound" by Hillary Jordan. Not complex, but thoughtful and enjoyable. And now, recommended by me.

As I was sitting at home yesterday, a strange thought popped into my head. I can't say from where, exactly, but I started wondering why, when arriving home from a variety of destinations, people in my family always say "Home again, home again, jiggety jig!" Where does that come from? Are we the only ones who say it? So, I did what anyone living in the 21st century would do - I Googled it. And it turns out that there are TONS of families who say this when they arrive home and I could not find a single reference to its origin. I'd love to hear from you if YOUR family says this too. (Next time I will discuss "Happy Nappy Time" and"Off like a herd of turtles", both of which, in fact, may actually be familiar only to the Gunter family.)

I was mocked at work the other day for saying "trash" when I should have said "garbage." This was interesting to me as I have always believed the words to be totally interchangeable. In Canada, apparently, they are not. "Garbage" is what is in your house in a little pail. Trash would be piled in a landfill. You can still "trash talk" or be "trashy", but in the house, it's just garbage. You truly do learn something new every day.

The election -- I can't resist saying something about it. If you're one of my sisters, don't close the browser window just yet - it's not what you think. In fact, I am feeling a little defensive of Sarah Palin these days. Don't get me wrong - I'm no fan, but I think she is being dumped on now by people who previously supported her and touted her charms and abilities. Some of the things being said about her, by her own party (and her own campaign) are cruel and petty. Why do people have to do that? She was plucked from obscurity and put on a national stage and then she gets blamed for not being polished enough or prepared enough - and by her own people? That's madness. Interesting fact - in Australia, you get fined for NOT voting. Not sure what I think about that. I think everyone should exercise their right to vote - particularly women, who haven't always had the option - but I think we should at least have the FREEDOM not to vote.

I think that's it for now. I'm starting to get nervous about Christmas (the season which starts in Canada the day after Halloween, since Thanksgiving is in early October) already -- I haven't managed to get cards out in 2 or 3 years, last year I did no Christmas baking, and I've already been invited to two parties for which I have no babysitters. Sigh. Maybe I will take another sick day and contemplate it all.

The Fair Is A.....

2008-09-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

My sisters know what comes next. " veritable smorgasbord..." This is from the classic animated film, Charlotte's Web (not the new live action version). It's the song that the barnyard animals sing to Templeton (and then he sings himself) to convince him that the task Charlotte has for him -- being sent to the fairgrounds to find a word to best describe Wilbur -- is a great job for a rat. Why all the children's literature trivia, you ask? It's because this past weekend we went to the 137th Annual Caledonia Fair. So, obviously, my children have had to listen to me sing this song ad nauseum, this week. It almost seems appropriate that the fair happened this week. About a week ago, we learned that one of our favorite contemporary American authors, David Foster Wallace, had ended his own life. If you've not been privileged to read any DFW - try to get your hands on one of his collections of essays - either, "Consider the Lobster" or "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again." You might also Google his commencement address from Kenyon College a few years ago. But I digress. In the collection, "A Supposedly Fun Thing..." One of the "supposedly fun things" that he never planned to do again, was go to the Illinois State Fair. DFW deftly describes the two sides of a fair: the Carnie side and the Ag side. The Caledonia Fair had both. First, we wandered around in the Exhibition Hall. Aidan had a habitat poster and a "good penmanship" entry, but, alas, did not earn a ribbon. The Exhibition Hall is a wonderful display of the lost domestic arts. Well, not lost really, from the looks of the Hall. We saw exquisite examples of needlework, hand-smocking, quilting, crocheted lace, and hand-crafted jewelry. Aidan was pleased to see that there was a prize-winning Lego creation displayed. We didn't know this was an option and, truthfully, (and no offense to the Lego winner or his mother) but it was a project Aidan could have done blindfolded with one hand behind his back. We'll be entering next year! There were preserves and baked goods that were beautiful (and I assume tasty). A gentleman in our church won for his pickled beets and he proudly announced in church, while decked out in his choir robe, that he had beaten another parishioner who had bested him the year before! There was a 716 pound pumpkin that surpassed the weight of the second place pumpkin by more than double. Some of the displays that I found most puzzling were the champion bags of seeds, bales of hay, and ears of corn. Apparently each of these has it's own judging standards: even rows of kernels, no discoloration, no musty odor, no bugs (a given, I think). They all looked the same to my untrained eye, but I'm sure that they were a labor of love for their masters. After the Exhibition Hall we visited the animal barns. Naturally we were treated to the "Best Duck" and "Best Rabbit". We saw furry Galloway cattle and cockerel poultry with wonderful plumes of feathers on their heads. If you've ever seen pictures of women dressed in outrageous hats for Ascot, that just about describes the cockerels. This side of the fair leaves one pretty nostalgic for the simpler life. Then comes the midway. The Carnies that work the midway look like this is the very last thing they want to be doing with their lives. It actually made us a little sad -- the ride and game operators appeared to be listless drifters with no joy for their work. Last summer we went to Disneyland and the contrast between the ride operators at Disney and the carnies couldn't be more extreme. Somehow no one ever pushed them to discover their gifts and their calling and now they are in a turn-key job without a sense of place -- moving from one small town to the next. The kids, of course, loved the midway, joyless carnival workers or not. I was just hoping that I was being a responsible parent and that I wouldn't end up on the evening news -- victim of a freak carnival accident. In between, we sampled hand-dipped corn dogs, heard some earnest fiddlers and singers of Contemporary Christian music, and dodged the lure of the game stall operators. (Well, almost -- I did plunk down $5 to let Patrick handle a machine gun in an attempt to win a giant stuffed something.) The game stall operators reminded me of the wayward woman from the book of Proverbs -- calling to young men in the streets to make them veer from the righteous path. All good things must come to an end and when we had admired the last cow and pumpkin and spent our last ride ticket, we exited the fair. Until next year. All together now: "Oh, wow, look at him now. Zuckerman's Famous Pig!"

The First Day of School

2008-09-02T18:10:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day in a brand new school (again) for Patrick, Annie, and Aidan. Yesterday, Ryan had them write a paragraph about the year ahead - thinking about their personal goals for the year and how they could improve on previous years. (Yes, heady stuff - that's what all that PhD money buys you...) They went something like this: "I will not act weird." "I will not argue with people about things I don't really know anything about." "I will not draw attention to myself." Couldn't we all benefit from these virtues? Seriously - if I went to work everyday with these mantras: 1. Don't act weird. 2. Don't argue about things about which I know nothing. 3. Don't draw attention to myself --- I would be very successful and well-liked! Another family goal was to pack healthier lunches. We already do pretty well, but we wanted to cut down on processed lunch meats and sugary snacks disguised as fruit. However, our efforts were somewhat thwarted by a note home telling us that a child in one of our children's classrooms was severely anaphylactic and so we should not bring: 1. peanut products 2. nuts 3. eggs 4. Anything produced in a factory with nuts or eggs 5. Anything that could have come in contact with any surface involving nuts or eggs. Now I don't know what to pack in the lunches. The strange thing is, neither Ryan nor I can remember knowing ANYONE, when we were kids, who was allergic to anything -- maybe a run-of-the-mill allergy like dust or hay or milk, but nothing like the things we're encountering now. I digress. The day turned out to be a total success. God has been gracious to us in the provision of good teachers and kind companions and our kids came home very excited. We're excited for a school that follows the liturgical calendar (tying in our home and church life), prays faithfully, and cares about the community. The kids need to brush up on the Sign of the Cross (Notre Dame is a Catholic Elementary School) but then again, who doesn't? Tomorrow -- Ryan's first day. I should go and make sure his name is on all his things.

Too much stuff and Darfur bags

2008-08-02T11:59:00.000-07:00

One thing that moving always confirms for us is how much stuff we've managed to accumulate. I've been unpacking things that I haven't used in years, yet once again I've boxed them up (packing them carefully so they won't be damaged) and moved them across the country. Today Ryan finished our closet. I'm troubled by the fact that I have more clothes that I DON'T wear than 90% of the people in the world have to wear. I don't think that Christians are prohibited from having nice things, or even lots of things, but I do wonder about the excesses in our lives. Much of what I have has been given to me as gifts or handed down to me, used, but it's there nevertheless. Maybe I should try to get rid of one (or two) articles of clothing for every one new thing that I bring in. I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter.

On an entirely unrelated (maybe not) note: I must put in a plug for Darfur Bags. A friend of a friend, who lives (I think) in Manitoba (that's in Canada for all of my fellow Americans) makes these great messenger bags out of recycled (aka used previously) fabrics. They are gorgeous and very creative and she sends 100% of the proceeds to a charity benefitting the women of the Darfur region. Here's her blog, where you can view the bags: www.bags4darfur.blogspot.com
I've purchased several for gifts and every one has been received enthusiastically. And what a great story to tell when you show someone your bag. She does make masculine versions from time to time. Also - she did make one for a friend out of that friend's own vintage fabrics (children's clothes, sentimental items, etc) so maybe you have something you'd like her to recycle into a stylish bag. She collects buttons for this project too, so contact her if you have scads of those you're wanting to ditch. Sorry - did I mention her name is Joyce?

Am I a "Granola"?

2008-08-01T09:58:00.000-07:00

Those of you who went to college with me, or have ever lived in Colorado, will know exactly what I mean by this statement. No, I have not stopped shaving, but today I went and procured a --- drum roll please--home composter. First, I have to say that we are loving Ontario's commitment to recycling. It's amazing how little actual garbage we have. One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless (but you know who you are!) said to me, "We're Republicans. We don't recycle." Tsk tsk. Now we've decided to take it a step further. Everyone in Caronport had a compost pile, but I was reluctant to have a pile of rotting food in my backyard. However, I've done a little research, prompted by the offer of home composters at our local county office, and discovered that, properly tended to, a composter doesn't have to be disgusting and will churn out some sweet smelling rich soil for our garden (in 6 months or so...) It has a lid and will sit in the side yard (so no pile of rotting food outside the back door). Our current anal practice is to seal up all of our food scraps in plastic produce bags, before putting them in the trash (to cut down on that trash can smell) so we really don't need to alter our habits all that much. You can even put coffee filters, tea bags, hair (I have lots of this), and clothes dryer lint in the composter. Between the home composter and the recycling bin, I'm betting that we'll only have 1-2 kitchen trash bags full of actual trash next week. I'll report back to you and let you know how close we came. I will still be shaving, however...

IKEA

2008-07-30T11:16:00.001-07:00

We have discovered IKEA. If you live even remotely close to a major urban center, you probably have one close by. Run, don't walk.

"As she began loyal, thus she remains."

2008-07-30T07:58:00.000-07:00

This is the official motto for Ontario, Canada. Populated early on by British loyalists fleeing the whole revolutionary scene in the "colonies". This led to the current practice of putting little crowns on their license plates. The American in me bristles at all of this (and the occasional prayers for the Queen in church - not that I'm against praying for anyone, but it doesn't seem right somehow - I want to shout "down with the monarchy" or "no taxation without representation"). In any case, here we are. I'm humbled to admit that merely a month after starting this blog, I'm already quite behind in updating it. I'll attempt to give you the short story about our less-than-ideal departure from Caronport, SK, and our journey to this Anglo-phile bastion...
So, first of all, hats off to QwestHaven Relocation for actually getting all our things here, mostly unscathed. The road, however, was not pretty. I had hoped to have a leisurely departure from Caronport - a day for the movers, a day for cleaning, and a day to breakfast with friends and wave goodbye to our little town. What really happened was last minute rescheduling, various moving crew members quitting, a 4:30 PM start time for packing the truck, having to recruit local high school students to stand in for the recently departed moving crew, and a harried and hasty departure from town. Once we actually got on the road, we did have an enjoyable cross-country trek (aided by Red Bull for me and a couple of loaned DVD players - thanks to Jeff & Stacy, and Mom!) We managed to squeeze in a lovely visit with friends we hadn't seen in years (a shout-out to Josh and Bryonie for putting up with wine and nibbles in a Holiday Inn Express room) and a fun visit to Chicago. We rolled into Caledonia, Ontario (population approximately 10,000 former British loyalists) on Monday, July 21st, and spent our first evening in our new home. The movers came the next day and the rest is history. (Some of that history involves already having locked ourselves out of aforementioned new house. This is a great way to get to know the neighbors!) We had prayed for a smooth transition, and friends, for the children, and God has been pleased to grant both. We inherited a trampoline in the backyard and our kids have been having a blast getting to know both the trampoline, and the children across the street, who seem to have been waiting for us to show up. Interesting tidbit about Ontario -- your milk comes not in cartons, but in liter size plastic bags. You have to purchase a milk pitcher (my ignorance on all these points provided great amusement for at least one employee at the local supermarket) in which to put your plastic bag, and then you cut off one corner to pour the milk. Very environmentally friendly, but a little strange nonetheless. Fair warning to any of you who come to visit us. Humidity is another factor we're getting used to. I guess the great thing about having lived the oh-so-transient Air Force and student life is that no climate is exactly BRAND new. We can say - "Remember this humidity from Mississippi?" Or plug in some other condition and locale. In other news, I've applied for an academic advising position at Redeemer University College, where Ryan will be teaching, and now that I've interviewed, I'm just waiting to hear something. Which leads me to my current frustration - waiting on Citizenship and Immigration Canada. I'm sure that things are just as bleak for my Canadian friends trying to go live in the US, but since I've nothing to compare my experience to, I'll judge that it is officially very trying. Ryan's work permit expires tomorrow and we've been waiting weeks and weeks for our renewed permits to arrive. Initially we were told to send them in at least 30 days in advance. Processing time has now been extended to 48 days and I can imagine that this will only go up. Meanwhile, we have "implied status" which means that while we can legally remain in the country and work, we are prisoners in this foreign land. If we leave, we may be denied re-entry. This has already resulted in the cancellation of a weekend trip to the Finger Lakes and a journey to Syracuse, NY to see some good friends. It was also threatening to ruin (or at least make uber-stressful) my trip next weekend to my sister Lindsay's graduation from college. I insisted to Ryan that I would indeed go and was willing to sit on the US side of the border for as long as it took. However, kindly Etienne at the CIC call centre informed me this morning that since Ryan's work permit is what makes us legally entitled to be in Canada, that it is only Ryan who is trapped here. The rest of us are free to come and go as we like, until such time as we are officially rejected by the Crown. Good news for me. Props to Etienne, despite the half-hearted efforts of some of his comrades at Citizenship and Immigration.

Track Stars

2008-06-10T15:31:00.000-07:00

This is news only really of interest to grandparents and devoted aunts and uncles. Patrick and Annie competed in a school district track meet today. Annie had a third place finish in both the 50 meters and the high jump (yes, really). Patrick had a first place finish in the high jump and the 100 meters, and third place finishes in the 200 and 400 meters. Patrick was also the lead off runner for the boys' 4x100 relay team, which finished first, despite some trash-talk from one of the other elementary schools. :) OK - now, does this take any of the shine off of these results: grades 4-6 do what is known as a "standards" track and field competetition. Which means that Annie did not necessarily finish in the third spot in her competetitions, but acheived a third place TIME. I think this to avoid having anyone with hurt feelings. Even little slow kids can get a certificate. Patrick's relay team did beat out a bunch of other teams in that competition, however. While on the one hand, I am all for kids not feeling vastly inferior because of their poor genetics, no one is really fooling the kids. At the end of each school term, the elementary school has an awards assembly. Kids get awards for the various school subject areas, and overall awards based on grade point average. The last time I congratulated Annie on one of her awards, she said to me, "Everyone gets something." So, the kids have it figured out. Still, I have to commend teachers for innovations like not letting children choose their own teams in PE.

(Let it be known that this writer was the smallest in her class every year and that she always got picked to be the one "coming on over" in Red Rover because she was too tiny to break through anyone's arm holds.)

Visiting Toronto

2008-06-06T22:44:00.000-07:00

So this is for all of you who are wondering, "What's there to do in Toronto? I hope that it won't be like visiting Ryan and Amy in Saskatchewan..." Here are a couple of websites to check out and help you plan your next vacation:
http://www.torontotourism.com/visitor/HomePage.htm

http://www.toronto.com/

We'll be living about an hour from the city, so the sky (or the SkyDome) is the limit!

Lake House Relaxation and House-Hunting

2008-06-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

We just returned from a fabulous vacation, courtesy of Mom and Steve, who graciously allowed us to interrupt their lives for two weeks. They live right on a lake in the lovely Northwest - complete with private dock. The kids had so much fun kayaking, paddle-boating, playing with dogs, and searching for wildlife (thanks, Steve for coming up with "Wildlife Bingo") that they never once asked to watch TV. Ryan and I got away to Ontario for a couple of days of house-hunting near Hamilton. (Why is it that it is so much cheaper to fly to Ontario from Seattle, than it is to fly to Ontario from Regina? It is over a 1000 miles further!) It is stressful to know that you have less than two days to find a home, but God was gracious and dropped the perfect home right in our laps. Caledonia, Ontario will be our home as of July 21st. We're excited at the prospect of hosting friends and family and showing off the wonders of the Niagra region, the Greater Toronto Area, and Festival Country. Thank you Gloria Payton, real estate agent Extraordinare! We arrived back in Seattle in time to celebrate, Hawaiian style, the birthdays of our own 10 year old, Annie Kate, and my new sister, Deanna. (Of course, all family members present were thinking wistfully of last summer's jaunt to the actual Hawaii -- Mom, Steve, what about next year?)

Are we trendy yet?

2008-06-06T15:28:00.001-07:00

I've resisted the whole blogging thing -- I gave in to Facebook ("to connect with my students") but insisted I would not, could not blog. Everyone's blogging. No one will read it. And yet, here I am. I am a blogger. Perhaps I will be a "Diary of Anne Frank"ish blogger and my words are now for posterity. More likely, it will be one more thing on an ever growing to-do list. But, my family has become increasingly hostile about my lack of updates on and photos of their neice/nephews/grandchildren. I can't seem to send a photo over email without inadvertently taking up all of the available memory in my friends' and relatives' inboxes. So, I thought this would be the next best thing. If you blog it, they will come.

Here we go......