we will remember them....

Coming so close on the heels of the Blog Blast for Peace, we turn our hearts to those who might have been saved had humanity managed to find that peace that allows for understanding...

I'll wrap myself in my daddy's legion sweater on this solemn day (as I did last year) and be thankful he fell ill and was released from active duty without having to have seen the horrors of war from the inside of a Canadian Armed Forces tank in WWII as that was his path during training.

I repost this, a poem I wrote some years back, as has become custom in my Remembrance Day posts.

I cry…

For the men and women who died, fighting for our Nation, for my freedom and the freedom of others…

For the mothers and fathers who have lost their sons and daughters in the fight for Peace…

For the men and women who have lost their soul mate…

For the children, those who are left behind… and those who shall never come to be…

For the friends who are left with only memories…

For those who have no PEACE…

For those who forget what makes the sacrifice so meaningful...

For those who miss so many important moments of everyday life because they are fighting for justice... the first step, the first tooth, the first goal, the first school play…

For my country, for we have lost so many fine Canadians…

For those who died alone... and for those who are buried so far from home...

For those who confuse their opinions on war and the respect and appreciation owed for the sacrifice of our soldiers...

For those who have lost their brothers and sisters in arms and parts of themselves...

For those who will not take the time to remember…

For my father who gave me life and unconditional love... for him I shall work for Peace

Daddy is on the far left

The Ode of Remembrance

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.

Dona Nobis Pacem

As I type this, it’s “BlogBlast For Peace” Eve. I sat down wondering if I’d remember how to blog. You see, it’s been a very long time and I had pretty much given it up, not really feeling the urge or inspiration to write anything. But Mimi has a way of asking without asking and I am a Peace Bee after all.

When I was a kid, the future Peace Hippie that I was, loved the song “I’d like to teach the world to sing… in perfect harmony” (heh! Caught you singing it to yourself, didn’t I? *snort* It’s ok, as cheesy as it is, it’s darn catchy)… Well, it dawned on me tonight that my beloved Queen Mimi has been doing just that. She’s been gathering us together, giving each voice a forum and she manages to make us all sound and look awesome. Fitting for a Maestra, no? She takes voices from all over the world, all unique, and she brings us together for a common purpose and dream: Peace. Mimi knows how to conduct the choir and put on quite the show with costumes and everything!

So I sat down and read last year’s post once again. That left me wondering… is there really anything else I can say? I still feel the words I wrote last year. I still long for understanding. I still believe it’s essential.

"I do not want the peace that passeth understanding. I want the understanding which bringeth peace."

- Helen Keller

And then it hit me (don’t worry, I’m fine…. it was a warm tingly kind of feeling *smile* - nothing actually fell on me or smacked me). You see, this is how these posts happen. I goof around looking for songs that give me the “A-ha!” feeling (not to be confused with the musical group A-ha, although I’m sure they give some people the tingles) and those songs then inspire the post. I turned to Arlo Guthrie once more. He served me well last year and he always makes me smile, a good thing to be doing when trying to save the world and bring about World Peace (that last bit sounds really awesome if you say it in a booming superhero voice, by the way).

And there it was, my Peace song. (You have to wait a little to hear it, okay? Because I have something I have to say first, thanks. No cheating and scrolling down allowed. *wink*).

“Difference is of the essence of humanity. Difference is an accident of birth and it should therefore never be the source of hatred or conflict. The answer to difference is to respect it. Therein lies a most fundamental principle of peace: respect for diversity.”

- John Hume

In the past few weeks, we’ve been hearing the stories of LGBT youths who have committed suicide because of bullying, because of small mindedness and fear and misunderstanding… and because they despaired, feeling things would never get better. Some really awesome people have been stepping up to remind the young ones out there who are struggling with who they are and who feel that diversity will never be embraced that it will get better.

"Civilizations should be measured by the degree of diversity attained and the degree of unity retained." 

-W.H. Auden

Last year, my question was: why? Why aren’t we there yet? Now, my question is, why not? When people say it’ll never happen, we’ll never have Peace, I say: why not?!

"Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not."

- Robert Kennedy

Even in days like these, where diversity brings strife and sorrow, we must remember… things will get better and we will live in a culture of Peace, Understanding, Acceptance and Love. Why? Because we dream of Peace… and we act on those dreams.

"We may have different religions, different languages, different colored skin, but we all belong to one human race."

- Kofi Annan

Okay… NOW you can listen to the song *giggle*.

“I know the storm will soon be over

The howling winds will cease to be.

I walk with friends from every nation

On freedom's highway in times like these.”

-Arlo Guthrie

Peace! Don't forget to go visit Mimi and the other BlogBlast for Peace contributors HERE

I’ve also included last year’s song… because it’s just perfect for a day like today.

We're baaaaaaaaaaaack!

On World Earth Day let's give the planet Peace...

Well, I'm not quite back. But this little Peace Bee has been pressed into service by her Queen, the wonderful Mimi, to tell everyone about this year's edition of the BlogBlast for Peace... and what better day to do it than on the 40th anniversary of World Earth Day.

"You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet"  

- Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons, 1964

"When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world." 

- John Muir

Because we are all connected, because we have but one planet to call home... let it be a beautiful, clean and peaceful home.



Here is my Queen's message:

Welcome to the 7th launch of BlogBlast For Peace aka Dona Nobis Pacem in the blogosphere. It's inception began in 2006 with one single post and a cry for peace in our world.
A small group of bloggers answered that challenge and it began to spread across the internet in ways that humble me still. It reaches across political lines and religious creeds, abides in corners of unrest and places of hope, gives voice to individual beliefs and promotes tolerance for diversity. It celebrates the genius in each one of us, found in sparkling conversations of passionate pleas for change in the earth. It is that hope for change that motivates us.

It was the Internet's first ever online movement of its kind to invite bloggers to post the same message on the same day. From blog to blog it has moved and continues to grow. We have been amazed to see the power and passion shown each year displayed on pages across the world. We visit each other with our prayers and scribbles, prose and poetry, art and angst, heart and hilarity - and we are moved by it. From one post to thousands of others in fifty countries and almost every state in the United States, something rare and wonderful happens on BlogBlast For Peace day.
I am privileged to witness it.
I invite you to experience it.
It's time.
Join us!

November 4, 2010
Bloggers from all across the globe
will blog for peace.
We will speak with one voice.
One subject.
One day.

How To Get Your Peace Globe 2010
Here's how to do it in 4 easy steps!

1. Choose one of the Peace Globe designs shown on this page. Right CLICK and SAVE in JPG format.

2. Sign the globe using Paint, Photoshop or a similar graphics tool. Decorate the globe anyway you wish. You can even include the name of your blog. Click here for thousands of inspiring examples from previous BlogBlasts.

3. Return the peace globe to me via email ~ blogblastforpeace at yahoo.com and sign the Mr. Linky below. Leave a comment and your blog's name and url in the Mr. Linky so that we can visit each other.
Your submission will be numbered and dated in the official gallery with a link back to your post and a permanent spot on the Official BlogBlast For Peace website.

4. On November 4,2010 DISPLAY YOUR GLOBE IN A POST on your blog, FACEBOOK WALL and TWEET IT!

Title your post "Dona Nobis Pacem" - Latin for Grant Us Peace. This is important. The goal is for all blog post titles to say the same thing on the same day. Write about peace that day or simply fly your globe.
Come back here and sign your name again once you've posted your own globe.

Need ideas and inspiration? Go to BlogBlast For Peace.com to see the gallery of thousands of peace globes and posts from 50 countries already submitted and numbered.
If you'd like to read about the history of this movement, go here.

You can also find us on....

Join the Peace TWIBE
Bloggers Unite group
IPEACE Group

What should you do while you're planning what to write and create?

1. Post this badge on your site and Facebook pages to promote.
Or feel free to use it as your globe on November 4th. Just grab the code below.

November 4, 2010

<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mimilenox.com/" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297539054141164978" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 90px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMhNTetahUZrYnqMgjDi0o0XizEZP248aFhOgfZ2XbP0F8m55BbQomzjRWCt0pytv6Lh0vwWk09yMov4miovfpuGq0NXlJh81_tUV8O31yCKGZt7n8-xoosr-fr_laKQMIyv5nCe_4zkh/s200/blogblastlogolightersharpened.jpg" border="0" /></a>

2. Become a Peace Globe Worker Bee.
This organization of busy helpers and dedicated peace bloggers began in 2009. The concept was created by this man and taken up by a growing number of bloggers with a passion for peace and this movement. Read "You See There Were These Bees...." to find out how the bzzzzzzz started bzzzzzzzing. Any one of the bloggers mentioned in that post or who commented on that post are ready and willing to assist you.

What does a PGWB do? Many of you already do the following actions that define a Peace Globe Worker Bee: Spreading the word, posting the date, flying the Blog Blast banner, offering assistance to anyone who needs help making a Globe, or directing bloggers to one of the sites where they can find out more about the movement. Please take the bee badge with you too! We want to see the peace bzzzzz everywhere! We appreciate all you are doing already to spread the word.

3. SHARE and TWEET this post every chance you get until November 4th, 2010.

This is what has gone before.
I can't wait to see what you do with this movement in 2010.

Papa's Marbles ~ How It All BeganThe Silence Of PeaceBlogBlast For Peace #1

BlogBlast For Peace #2 June 2007

BlogBlast For Peace #3 November 2007

BlogBlast For Peace #4 June 2008

BlogBlast For Peace #5 November 6, 2008

BlogBlast For Peace #6 November 5, 2009

If words are powerful....then this matters.

Join us!

BlogBlast For Peace logo and concept is the sole property of Mimi Lenox.
2006-2010 copyright
All rights reserved.

and the soul is lifted...

I wanted to share this with you as we enter into a time of renewal, hope and promise. It is what I feel to be one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever composed, a masterpiece of the twentieth century.

I hope you enjoy it. It never fails to move me to tears and gives me hope.

“When you have come to the edge of all light that you know and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly.”
-Patrick Overton

drive by post

I'm still live, not quite ready to write exactly but I had to share this...

Maybe someone will get a chuckle from it, I know I laughed heartily.

"One horse-laugh is worth ten thousand syllogisms. It is not only more effective; it is also vastly more intelligent."

- H L Mencken

a loss many will never fully understand...

It was with great sadness that I woke to the news that Canada's last WWI veteran, John "Jack" Babcock, had passed away yesterday at the age of 109. This news comes at a time of great joy for Canada as we host the world in the one event that used to bring armistice in wars, even if for a brief time.

Mr Babcock was born July 23rd in 1990 on a farm in Ontario, one of 13 children. He was like so many young men of that generation... he was feisty and looking to make a better life for himself. He had gone through many hardships as a young lad, his father dying when Jack was only 6 years old. He was of the generation that witnessed and took part in Canada's transition from British Dominion to Independent Nation.

At the age of 15 and a half, he enlisted in the 146th Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces (lying about his age to do so) after hearing recruitment officers quote from Tennyson's The Charge Of The Light Brigade . He was initially assigned to serve in Canada because of his age, but managed to sign up for a regiment that was headed overseas by stating he was 18. So after passing his physical, he was sent overseas to England but his fib caught up with him and prevented him from seeing active combat. Because he was under age, he was sent to the Boys Batallion, a regiment where young men were trained to fight until they were old enough to fight on the front lines. The war ended just months after he turned 18, and he never did get to fight the Germans.
He regretted not seeing combat in that war, being a "tin soldier"... it stayed with him throughout his life and so he never considered himself a true veteran of the Great War. In an interview in 2007 he said: "I think if I had a chance, I would have gone to France, taken my chances like the rest of them did. A lot of good men got killed."

The people that served in The Great War experienced war at it's most raw and the cost in human life was devastating. Sometimes I think if technology wasn't what it is today we might think twice about walking away from discussions and work towards Peace that much harder.

In the 20s, he moved to the United States and also served in the United States Army. He became a naturalized US citizen in 1946. Dual citizenship was not permitted in those days, so Mr Babcock was forced to give up his Canadian ties but never lost his love for his homeland. In April 2008, during a visit from Canadian Veterans Affairs Minister Greg Thompson, Mr Babcock said he would like to get his Canadian citizenship back. At Mr Thompson's urging, he handwrote a note to Prime Minister Stephen Harper which was hand delivered by Thompson that was reported to have said:

"Dear PM. Could I have my citizenship restored? I would appreciate your help. Thank you, John Babcock."

Governor General Michaëlle Jean granted his request and a Canadian delegation traveled to his home in Washington state for a swearing in ceremony.

"We are proud to welcome Mr. Babcock back into the Canadian family and to honour the service he gave our country," Harper said in a news release.
"He symbolizes a generation of Canadians who, in many ways, were the authors of modern Canadian nationhood." - Stephen Harper.


Mr Babcock died a Canadian citizen... as it should be.

Today, my plans changed. I traded in my red sweater, as I try to wear red on Fridays as much as I can in support for our troops, for my father's Canadian Legion sweater. I wear it proudly in their honour for I owe them so much. I can just see the welcome Mr Babcock must be receiving from his veteran comrades in Heaven. May they continue to watch over our troops and act as their guardian angels.

Rest in Peace, sir. Thank you.

"I think it would be nice if all the different people in the world could get along together so we weren't having wars. I don't suppose that'll ever happen, though."

- John Babcock

I strongly encourage you to watch the following videos from The History Channel... I did and learned a great deal about one boy's journey into manhood at a time of great change. Listening to Mr Babcock share his memories, extremely lucidly might I add, gives me an even greater desire to work for Peace.

I do believe... we are more.

12 years ago, I sat at home, a ball of hormones. I was nesting... waiting for the light of my life, the promise that was growing inside me, to join the world. I blamed my hormones for the tears that flowed as I watched the opening ceremony of the 1998 Nagano Winter Olympiades.

But the fact of the matter is: I’m a sucker for the Olympic Games.

I love watching athletes from all over the world come together. There’s a glow about them. They’re filled with hope and promise, you can see it in their eyes. You can feel the pride on the face of the flag bearers. And the smiles on the faces of the athletes as they take part in the Parade of Nations is infectious.

My friend Tez's niece, Tamara Oudenaarden - first time Olympian

Long track speed skating

I love the anticipation during that moment before the puck drops, the bell rings, a whistle blows, a figure skater’s music starts. It’s the moment of promise.

Yesterday, I sat at home, waiting for a light from my grandfather’s homeland, Greece, to make its way to the big cauldron of the opening ceremony. There were sweet magical moments, as every day people ran through the streets of Vancouver, on that last day of the flame’s journey. A journey my daughter and I were blessed to have witnessed when, on it’s over 45,000 km cross-Canada trek, the flame was lit in our own community cauldron by a hometown Summer Olympian.

I cried tears of hope and pride, and remembrance, as Terry Fox’s dad, Rolly Fox received the flame from a cancer survivor. My heart swelled and tears flowed as I watched the quintessential hockey dad, Walter Gretzky, hold that torch high and run while people chanted “Go Canada” and afterwards he lead the crowd as they broke into a touching and genuine rendition of “Oh Canada”.

My heart broke when a reporter for CTV informed us of the tragic luge accident that would claim the life of a young Georgian Olympian who that night should have been with his team mates, taking in a moment that no athlete ever forgets, that moment when you get to walk behind your flag as the crowd cheers you on. Nodar Kumaritashvili’s passing reminded us of just how fragile life is and how living to the fullest is the only option.

His team mates chose to honour him and to embody the very spirit of the Olympics by marching in the opening ceremony and competing in the games. Georgia's Minister of Culture and Sport, Nikolos Rurua, said the Georgian team would "dedicate their performances to their fallen comrade.".  I don't think there was a dry eye in the place when the Georgian team entered the stadium.
As a Canadian, I will always remember them and I will keep them in my heart forever. As a Canadian, I nod in direction of the organizers who had both the Olympic and Canadian flags flying at half –mast as the ceremonies were dedicated to Nodar’s memory.

I was moved by John Furlong's words as he addressed the athletes and coaches: "may you carry his Olympic dream on your shoulders and compete with his spirit in your heart.".

I am immensely proud of my country. We have welcomed the world to our backyard and demonstrated what  makes this country great: the warmth and resolve of its people. This swelling pride is extended to all the athletes present at the games. When faced with tragedy, all rose up and found a way to move on. Tragedy need not define these Games, in the words of slam poet Shane Koyczan : “we live to get past the experiences we go through”.

“We are an experiment going right for a change.”

-Shane Koyczan

Preaching or sharing... you pick.

I haven’t felt the inclination to post. I’ve reverted to my introverted self because I’m too tired to deal with people most of the time and the introvert has been greatly reinforced of late. But I saw something this morning and I wanted to share it.

I stumbled on this in a series of serendipidous interwebz clicks.

I opened up my Twitter the other day and witnessed a perfect example of putting the focus on the wrong aspect of what someone has said and assuming their intentions. Instead of being a conversation about why something was felt to be offensive, it became an attack with name-calling and everything.
I’ve read and heard things from people that fell under the category of “prejudiced/racist”, but instead of judging them and writing them off, I’ve tried to focus on the words they used, what those words convey as a message and that’s been the starting point of the bigger conversation. Sometimes you won’t be able to have the conversation with the interested party... but you gotta try.
Conversations... man, that’s sorely lacking in the world today.

Maybe this is the perfect day for me to start posting again, as I celebrate the 20th anniversary of Mr. Mandela's release from jail. Maybe I’ll get rid of the little voice in my head that keeps me from interacting and just share.

"And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."
- Nelson Mandela

Because he will always be The King...

Happy Birthday, Elvis! Wherever you are.

*sigh* and THUD




It was hard, picking a clip to share with all y'all. This is one of my favourite moments from the '68 Comeback Special. I still squee every time I see it. Hope you enjoy it, Elvis "unplugged" in black leather is a sight to behold.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch an Elvis movie.

we do things differently around here

For most of you, Wednesdays are known as "Hump Day".
But in our humble abode, it's been renamed "Rump Day". At least for this week.

Yesterday, my Chicklet had the gym class from hell at last period. During which not only did she get boinked on the nose with a big ball (her pretty nose is fine)... but (and this is merely the only appropriate word I could insert and not me being a smartass -oops) she also went from the crouching frog position to a sitting position in Olympic record time.

So later this afternoon, we'll be making a car trek through snow filled, pot hole littered streets to go see an osteopath to have her very sore coccyx checked out. If she doesn't need valium after that car ride, I probably will.

How's that for her first day back from Christmas break? Oh Lord don't let it be broken...

“Well, after this I should think nothing of falling down stairs.”

- Alice in Wonderland

Life lessons and accidental thoughts - the holiday edition

I could go into the “I’ve been a bad blogger so spank me because I’m not visiting or posting regularly” spiel. But seriously, aren’t we all tired of people saying/writing that? Just being honest here, folks.
So, if you’re reading this, either:
1) you are new or,
2) you really do like me (at the very least tolerate me) or what I write about.
Whatever the reason, thank you and I really do appreciate it.

This was going to be titled “What I learned over the Christmas Holiday” but I expect that’s been done to death as well. So I'm leaving it in my accidental thoughts and life lessons category.

Let’s get the “first real post of the year” housekeeping stuff out of the way first.
Chicklet and I had a lovely time over her school break. Santa was most generous to her, you know. And I was fortunate enough to have some lovely meals with people that are dear to my heart over Christmas and New Year’s. There... that sums it up nicely, no?
And it was my first Christmas as “an orphan”. But I survived it thanks to Chicklet, my cousin and aunt, a great deal of silliness on Facebook, many hours of movie watching and a lot of cooking (that's for a later post).
What else... Um, I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I just live to learn and grow... and change (some, not all of me). Maybe it’s all the stuff that has happened to me (both good and monumentally bad) in the last few years or my reaching the age of forty -or both. But I’ve spent a whole lot of time with myself, been through a lot (that’s an understatement) and decided that it’s best for everyone involved if I just be myself. And if people don’t like it, tough noogies.

Most passport pictures are good likenesses, and it is time we faced it.” 

~Katharine Brush

OH... speaking of harsh, honest reality. Yesterday, I drove through the snow-laden and irritating side streets of Montreal, with Chicklet as my passenger and co-pilot. We were on our way to see "Sherlock Holmes" and to engage in some book perusing at Indigo, and during that ride I got a reality check.
Before Chicklet dives into her latest book and becomes silent and absorbed, she starts looking through the sports center’s brochure that I picked up at town hall. I ask her what kind of classes they have.
I just set myself up.
So she starts telling me about a “healthy living and exercise class” – something about combining dieting and exercise. I manage a glance sideways at her while dodging opening car doors, mounds of snow that are spilling over from the sidewalk and the occasional hapless and absent-minded pedestrian foolishly darting out and assuming my snow tires and reflexes are uncompromised. If you think Sully is a hero, ha! Let’s see how he navigates the wintery streets of Montreal! I bet you he mows at least one pedestrian down (or at the very least takes someone’s open car door off).

After she tells me what the course curriculum is, the following ensues:

“Are you saying I need to go on a diet?”

“Mom, are you kidding? You’re tiny.” says my astute and brilliant child.

“I think I do need to firm up a little, though.”

“Start with your butt, Mom. It jiggles.” says my suddenly not so astute and brilliant child.

Sigh and harumpfffff!

“Cloquet hated reality but realized it was still the only place to get a good steak.”

 ~Woody Allen

So... here’s what I was meaning to post about. This past week, in one morning, I was reminded of two very important things to stay upwind of:
1) A pooing dog, and
2) Snow being removed from the top of the car.
In both cases you get smacked in the face by either a harsh noxious foul smell or the harsh freezing reality that is winter. And either of them will literally take your breath away, and NOT in the good “heaven that is a flambéed liquored-up banana dancing on your tongue” way.

Life lessons. I don't have all the answers, but I'll share what I find out as much as is possible

That’s it, for now.

“I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught.”

 ~Winston Churchill

"Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Daoibh"

I... I will begin again...



"This New Year, may your right hand always be stretched out in friendship, never in want."
- Irish Toast

The Holiday

I celebrate Christmas.

Why? Listen to Linus...



If you're upset because some people are disturbed at the commercialization of Christmas, then I expect you don't understand why Charlie Brown struggled with the Christmas pageant... but I do. I celebrate the Hope that was given to the world on that Sainted and Holy Night. A Hope carried forth by us all in our peaceful moments.

For my fellow Christians, I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends.

Kwanzaa Greetings to those of African descent.

A blessed Eid al-Adha to Muslims and a hope for Peace.

And to my Pagan friends, Joyous Yule. May the Winter Solstice bring you renewed light.

when 20 years feels like the blink of an eye

It happened 20 years ago today...

14 women died at l'École Polytechnique (affiliated to the Université de Montréal), 13 of them were students.

They were killed because they were women.

I remember them... I'll always remember them.

In their memory

Geneviève Bergeron

Mechanical engineering student

Hélène Colgan

Mechanical engineering student

Nathalie Croteau

Mechanical engineering student

Barbara Daigneault

Mechanical engineering student

Anne-Marie Edward

Chemical engineering student

Maud Haviernick

Metallurgical engineering student

Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz

Nursing student
(Université de Montréal)

Maryse Laganière

Finance department employee

Maryse Leclair

Metallurgical engineering student

Anne-Marie Lemay

Mechanical engineering student

Sonia Pelletier

Mechanical engineering student

Michèle Richard

Metallurgical engineering student

Annie St-Arneault

Mechanical engineering student

Annie Turcotte

Metallurgical engineering student

if it's going to be winter...

You'd think a Canadian such as myself would like winter... and to be honest, there are SOME things about it that I do enjoy. My issue with the season is how LONG it lasts (but I won't dwell... trying to stay positive).

So this morning, I woke up to snow on the ground. Sticky, wet snow... the good snowball and snowman kind (see?! still staying positive... until someone lobs one of them there snowballs at me and it falls down the back of my shirt...).

And I actually caught myself smiling. I felt a little squeeeee in my heart.

Chicklet loves winter. I did too when I was her age. Laying in the snow that covered the front lawn, after dark with the multi coloured BIG bulbs covering the tree... big snowflakes the size of quarters falling slowly and landing on my rosy cheeks, my nose and yes, even my eyelashes (which, when you're laying on your back, isn't really that pleasant if bits of the snowflake pokes you in the eyeball and deprive you of your sight... but let's not think about that, staying positive.) And everything sparkled.

But like Frank says... watch out where the huskies go...

This snowfall was just what I needed to get my rump in gear. Of course this means I have to yank the tree out of the attic (some other day). Something Daddy used to do when I was a kid. He'd always let me climb up the ladder and peak up there. Of course, he held me so I wouldn't fall.

There I'll be, perched on the stepladder (some other day), probably on my tippy toes (I should put on shoes, yeah?), with the top half of my body cold (like I'm going to put a coat on for this! but then I might catch pneumonia and die), the smell of the attic filling my nostrils (where's the nose plug or Febreze when you need it?), trying to grab the boxes of Christmas stuff (who pushed them so dang far? Oh yeah... I did...).

And of course, in the attic, there's that pink insulation wool thing... and I'll be itchy... And then the lights. You know, some lights won't work.

Yeah... I'm positive. I mostly hate winter.

Sigh. Maybe just half a drink more...

It's a joyous day for The Hive

It's our beloved Queen Mimi's birthday.
Please stop by her castle and send her your well wishes.

I love you Mims... I truly do.


You have inspired me (and countless others) to continue seeing the best in people and to work for Peace.
You have made me laugh and cry... sometimes both at once.
You have been a comforting friend, a confidant.
You have shared of yourself with grace.

May this new beginning bring you everything you so richly deserve.

When I hear this lovely song, I think of you, a truly bee-autiful lady.

"to the moon!"

Have you ever been around a couple like this? I have.

It's exhausting yet morbidly entertaining.

An ex-boyfriend of mine's parents were like this. His mother was a piece of work. His dad was a wreck. I always wondered how they ended up together, much less stayed together.

Once, I actually heard her ask him: "MUST you BREATHE?"
To which he answered without a moment's hesitation: " I have to, I let my life insurance lapse so we'd have money for your wigs."

To my astonishment, she let him live - and the next day, she called the insurance company.

They survived adopting two kids in a culture that doesn't always see this as a positive, sarcasm of monumental proportions, a business (and personal) bankruptcy, his God awful taste in clothes (that actually prompted a ban on his shopping at a certain store in the mall - they had her on speed dial for whenever he came in alone), her many wigs, his travelling throughout the kids' childhood, her gardening despite his sciatic (or was in to spite it), having my ex as a son and his breathing.

They were made for each other, were excellent friends and never accused each other of being spiteful or mean.

As uncomfortable as it was being around them at times, I learned a lot.

Love and friendship can help you overcome anything. If you're only willing to. People don't change "for" someone, so if you love them despite their faults, all will be well. If you feel you have to change the other person, you're doomed.

Of course, it has occurred to me that one day, under pretense of her "gardening" she'll have him dig his own grave.

lessons learned at my father's side

It’s Friday the 13th. To some people, the superstitious kind, it’s a bad day.

What if I told you that I do not, ever, walk under a ladder? You could assume that it’s some quaint superstition. But if you asked me, I would tell you: I’m safety-minded. It was my job for nearly a decade. I don’t walk under ladders because I know something could fall on me (at the very least, the ladder could).

My dad was superstitious, so was my mom but to a lesser degree. Some of the superstitions he believed in just plain made me giggle. I’d tease him about it and he didn’t mind.



Dad had a thing about black cats (he also wouldn’t walk under a ladder and it WAS because of superstition). Now, it seems harmless enough, right? Yeah. Except one day, when Mom and Dad came home to what had been their first apartment. An event occurred that would become part of family lore.

Mom was pregnant (with me). So pregnant that she probably would have blocked a parking spot by the curb if she stood on the edge of it facing the street.

What do they find as they’re about to pull into the parking area of the apartment complex?

A black cat.
Sitting on a white car (this apparently makes it worse).
In dad’s way.
Staring at him.

Yeah… guess what happened next? My father stopped the car and just sat there. Dad couldn’t back up and park elsewhere. There was no place to turn (Montreal streets can be really narrow when there are cars parked on either side) and if he went forward, he would have to cross the cat’s eye line or something and risk the cat getting up and crossing his path (oh the horror). He turned to my mother and told her either he would leave the car right there where it was (and risk a ticket), or she would have to drive it in herself.
There was no negotiating.

Mom, couldn’t believe it. She tried to “talk some sense into him”… but nope. He stood firm. And then he got out of the car.

So, with all the grace that only the very pregnant woman can muster, Mom got herself out of the passenger side, waddled around the car over to the driver’s side and fiddled with the steering wheel to try and get enough clearance so that she might be able to wedge herself in there and drive the car in.

Mom almost got stuck. She was not happy. I can’t tell you how many times my mother recited this story, always rolling her eyes… and shooting looks at dad who just sat and crossed his arms. Mom almost injured herself in the groin when she tried to get out from behind the steering wheel sideways.
Everyone that heard this story chided my dad a little for putting the superstition first. Fortunately, it didn’t end badly.


One day, when I was older and wiser (well, as wise as a 6 year old can be)… I looked up at my dad and the following conversation took place:

“Um, Daddy?” said I, sitting on the floor and looking at the Saturday Comics section of the Montreal Gazette.
“Yes, Ann?”, he was reading the paper in his armchair.
“You know that story about the black cat and the car that Mom always tells?” (By the time I was six, I knew this story by heart.)
Dad sighed.
“Yes”, he answered, not looking up from behind the paper.
“It’s because black cats are bad luck, right?”
“Right”, Dad was a really patient man. He would always let me ask as many questions as I felt compelled to and he’d always answer me as best he could.
“Mom says that’s a silly stuperstition. Are stuperstitions real?”
“I believe so.” he answered, without correcting my pronunciation of the word as I was also known to say “pasghetti”. I think he figured I’d work it out in time.
“But Daddy, if they’re real, why did you let Mommy drive the car? Did she end up with bad luck?”
Apparently my mother had never brought this point up.
Dad lowered his paper, smiled at me and after a moment, the answer came to him and he said, “I let your mother make up her own mind. She’s old enough.”

Best answer he ever gave me.

It was a teaching moment. I had challenged him, not out of spite because as far as I was concerned, my Daddy hung the moon and there was nothing he couldn't do. I just needed to figure things out for myself and Daddy let me.

I still think the superstition is silly. But every time I see a black cat, I think of my dad... and I smile.

Teasing Daddy