"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

This post is brought to you by the letter S and the number 40

For another birthday post, scroll down.

Once upon a time, a little girl in pigtails was lying on her stomach watching TV.

And the whole world opened up for her.

She improved her English... she even learned some Spanish. She learned big words, like Snuffleupagus and ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ (phonetically known as Abcedeckicheckelmonokwerstuweitsyz). She learned to love monsters (even the ones that say "Wubba Wubba"). She was encouraged to use her imagination. She learned to count with a Count. She learned her ABCs and that C stands for all sorts of Cool stuff like Cookies... and CAKE. She developed compassion because she found out that being green and different isn't always easy, but it can be beautiful.

And she made some forever friends.

To the fine people (and monsters...) on Sesame Street, thank you... and Happy 40th birthday!

You made mine and my daughter's childhoods most magical. You taught both of us to stand up, and sing... out loud! That we, all the kids who watched, mattered. We KNOW how to get to Sesame Street.

I'm sharing many clips with you... feel free to watch any you want. It's good to share, they taught me THAT too!

Memories



Imagination



Being Green



The sillies are fun



The longest word *grin*



The Count and Cookie Monster bring you - cooperation, another great C word



Grover and Christopher talk about LOVE


"What kind of people can you love?" "Any kind."

Rest in Peace Mr Hooper (Will Lee), I still miss you. Kids learned it's ok to be sad... but when we remember, the people we love live on. And some things happen just because.

thank goodness for typing...

First of all...


WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! (thankfully, when I type this it doesn't hurt my throat)


Congratulations to THE STEELERS!!! WORLD CHAMPIONS!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

You may wonder... (and if you don't HA! I'm still gonna tell you) why does a girl from Montreal root for THE STEELERS!!WORLD CHAMPIONS!!WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! ?

I'm sorry. I can't seem to mention "you know who" without letting out a big WHOOP! *giggle*

So, why Anndi? Why did you root for THE STEELERS!!WORLD CHAMPIONS!!!WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! ? Well, I'm gonna tell yinz *giggle*. I know my buddy Gail knows... We had that discussion yesterday afternoon on the interwebz. She calls it: the LOYALTY CARD.

This IS a loyalty issue. Mah Honey, the dude that rocks my world, originates from the greater Pittsburgh area. My life changed in Pittsburgh a few years back when he walked into my life, all handsome-like and tall and blue-eyed and yummy. It's where we met. It's where he gave me the first kiss that ever curled my toes. No one has ever, in my whole life, managed that (and he still does *sigh*).

My friend Gail and I had fun online yesterday during the game. She picked the Arizona Cardinals cause she thinks their QB is cute... *giggle* I kid, she only discovered that after watching them a while *giggle*. She picked them because she wanted to root for a fairytale team, and that's a good enough reason for me. Besides, it made it fun and friendly.

The Cards played an awesome game. They believed in themselves, managed to capture the imagination of legions (including my friend Gail - she's so cute) and that's a great thing. They set a goal for themselves, not to beat the other team.. but to win and be the best they have ever been. It's semantics to some, but it's attitude to me. It's also how I choose to look at life.



The players have quite an inspiration in their QB Kurt Warner who won the NFL Walter Peyton Man of The Year award for his outstanding work off the field.

``When people look back at my career, I want them to see a fierce competitor. But more importantly, I want to be remembered for my consistency of character.'' - said Mr Warner

Indeed we will, sir. Young children can look to you as a role model not only for your skills as a football player but also your graciousness and character. Refreshing, really.

My friend's pick got me thinking though... about the whole underdog/fairytale team phenomenon. It's quite fascinating.

Do we do it because of all the stories we've heard as a child? Is it because we don't identify with the successful top seed? We see ourselves as "the little guy" and if they can make it, maybe we have a shot at that coveted *insert dream here*?

I still remember watching and cheering for Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards during the '88 Calgary Olympics. Many people thought his presence at the Olympics belittled the caliber of the other athletes and it actually led to a change in the rules. But I found it refreshing. The dude LOVED skying and just wanted to "do his best" and break his country's record (which he did). And although I am not British and he didn't represent my country, there was something endearing about him. He WAS the little engine that.. well, that tried. I watched him and thought: "it's not just about the medal".

We are all faced with our own personal struggles, not all of them are life and death struggles... but they are important to us and I expect when an "underdog" a "Cinderella" wins, it gives us hope.

What better reason to root for someone? Well, except kisses that curl your toes *wink*.

Oh and Bruce Springsteen ROCKED!



The commercials? WE don't get them live here in Canada (CRTC... a POX ON YOU!)

But, these stuck for very personal reasons...

Emigrating horses...



Horses in love... awwwwwww!



Being on the ass side of a job... THAT made me laugh.

I've been on the ass side of a few things lately. And not in the good way. But I'm changing that, little by little. One ass at a time.

DISCLAIMER: I don't moderate comments as a rule, but any trash talking of EITHER team will cause your comment to be deleted and you will be banned from further comments. PERMANENTLY. Win gracefully, lose graciously... do your favs proud.

"life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days, apparently it's a Libra trait (right Ron?) and it gets me into trouble, constantly. I've been wondering about "what I want vs what I need" (this? is why I told you to get out of my head IG... LOL)

I also realized that things will come, in their own time, no matter how I may stand arms crossed, lips in a pout while tapping my awesomely heeled shoe. I know, you're thinking how can life, fate, serendipity (pick one) resist such a lovely lass when she's being all cute and precious... it's a tragedy, but the laws of the Universe apparently also apply to yours truly.

So now, I look at my life and ask myself questions. Actually, THE question. What do I need from life, and how do I get it. Then that leads to: what do I need from my next job (have an offer for me?)? Do I need a career? Or something to pay the bills? I had a very deep exchange about it this weekend with a kindred spirit.

But, I think I'll be wise and chase one rabbit at a time. I want, no, I need to go home. That's the goal. I've found my soulmate, my home. It has taken us a long time to find each other. We knew from the first touch we were home to each other. Even though we can't be together as often as we would like, I won't complain. Not about the geographical distance, about sharing our time with anyone... I'm not that selfish or ungrateful. So now, I have to remember what the goal is and remember to nurture it so my soul can grow. Then I can focus on the next rabbit...

So tell me, have you given some thought to what you need? Do you think it changes over time?

Lucky - Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat

for Mom

Today is my Mother's birthday...

This was the last post I managed to put up before she passed almost two years ago.

I thought I'd share it again.

It's quite strange really...

My mother lies dying and she fights for every second. People walk by her room, stop to ask how she is... come to stand by her... hold her hand... and I find myself comforting them. My aunt, my mother's friend, my great aunt who sees two of her sisters in their dying moments when she looks upon her niece lying on that bed, weighing less than 50 pounds. It's my place in the world, it's who I am. They wonder what is holding her back. 'That's between her and God' I say. 'She'll tell him when it's time to go.'

Mom worked for the Franciscan monks for thirty years, keeping their books ( I have NOT inherited her passion for book keeping, I mean, I can do it, but YUCK!), running one of the monasteries, managing the staff... my mother is and always has been a driver. And she won't change now.

We're fortunate. My mother has been taken in by people who nurture and love her, and care for her as if she were their own mother. The Franciscans have an infirmary and she has been in their care for months since her chemotherapy. Secular people are never admitted there as patients, but she is one of them and receives the best there is. I see the sadness in their eyes as she slips away, and I hug them or pat them on the back, thanking them for their compassion, comforting them in their own grief. They love my mother, and I love them.

The janitor comes in every once in a while and checks on her. He likes my mother; she always has a smile or a kind word for Robert. He has cognitive challenges, but is a good soul and works hard and my mother admires that... so do I. He's come in and checked on her twice this morning, so far...

People here worry about me, but I feel my mother's strength as it leaves her and flows to me, slowly. Her heart is still strong. Like Robert said to me this morning: 'she has a good heart'. Yes she does, in more ways then one.

She gave me life some 37 years ago, and continues to nourish me even though the umbilical chord has been cut for a long time, even though I married (ok, so that didn't work out so well), moved out and now support myself and my daughter. I've been stronger now than I ever have been. Don't get me wrong, I'm tired. I don't get much sleep. I'm not Superwoman. But my mother gives me strength.

I catch people looking at me, the nurse's aids in particular... they really fret over me. And I appreciate their kindness and concern. Some of them have been through this with their own mothers, fathers, one has lost her husband to cancer. They have shared this with me and it is difficult for them... to relive it all.

I've gotten to know the staff very well. I eat pretty much all my meals with them, I assist them in caring for my mother, and I touch or hug them a lot.

One of them, Jackie (ironically my mother's name is Jacqueline) who also has just one child, a girl, walks by the room around meal times on her shift and 'reminds' me to go down and get something to eat. She mothers me like I'm her own daughter and I've seen a tear or two in her eyes when she comes in and kisses mom softly. I hug and kiss her all the time.

Robert sighting number 3....

And then there's Barbara, she has the sweetest smile. She loves it when Mom winks at her. When she moves Mom on the bed, Barbara snuggles up to Mom while holding her. She sat with Mom trying to get her to eat strawberry ice cream... every bite was a victory. She has the day off tomorrow and came in to kiss Mom and tell her she'd be back on Wednesday. I know she's afraid she won't get to see Mom open her eyes again. She left the room on the verge of tears, trying to hide it from me, but I watch closely. And I gave her the space she needed.

Denise brought Mom her new faithful friend last week, Pepe the colourful stuffed parrot and he's always on Mom's bed. poor thing had the call button clipped to his wing. I've taken over call button duties, I felt sorry for Pepe. She has always let Mom move at her own pace (Denise has a strong self -preservation instinct), even when it would take Mom 45 minutes to decide to take her medication. and then another 15 minutes to actually take it.

I sit in Mom's room, with my laptop on my lap (which can't find a wireless connection) on a big chair at the foot of her bed, writing this. This is where I've been sleeping the past few nights. In a room with white walls, a nice sized window, black and white checker floors ( I haven't counted the tiles.... yet...), knick knacks on the counter and pictures and cards on the dresser. I hear classical music in the hall in the morning and mid-afternoon, people walking by, the man in the room across the hall listening to the news (loudly), bits of conversations, life...

Robert sighting number 4...

Alain, one of the nurses here had a room made up for me so I could have a proper bed to sleep in... I never do sleep there, I just go into that room.. the special room... to call a family member or a friend to give them news so I won't disturb Mom. My mother really is sweet on him. She holds his hand tightly and winks at him when he comes to see her. He has come in from home in the middle of the night to give Mom her morphine injections because only a nurse is allowed to administer it in that form. I offered him the 'special room' he had readied for me, he smiled.

It seems my mother has a few sweethearts here. She calls François, a nurse's aid who I've often caught staring at me with concern in his eyes, 'mon chéri'. I've watched the tenderness he shows my mother, the way he handles her like fine china and makes certain things are done right, leaving instructions for the night shift and checking with me to make sure everything is ok. I've watched him tuck her in and kiss her cheek. he has great respect for the dying, and remembers that they have the right to dignity no matter how frail they are. He's a good man.

There's Nicholas, I think he's her favorite. He has kind eyes, is quite shy and felt awful when mom was in pain as he had to remove a bandage. It's sticky and removing it causes her pain. I actually offered to do it for him, but he said no. And did it with such gentleness, taking as much time as he needed even though he has so many other things to do and so many patients to care for.

So many people here comment on how strong-willed my mother is. But those who have gotten to know her understand. They tell me 'm like her, which would have infuriated me to no end a short time ago, you can't put two women like us in a room and expect calm waters. But I now see the good about it. And Mom slowly lets me become her voice... very slowly.

Mom's friend, father George Albert comes to see her every evening, like clockwork at 8:30. It's a ritual they started when she was first admitted here. Now, if she's sleeping, which she has been doing a lot of these days, he just says hello, blesses her and wishes me a good night.

Father Ferdinand, my new main squeeze, had his 88th birthday the week before Christmas. He stops off to say hello every evening on his way to his bath. And at lunch time I go up to him in the main dining room and kiss his cheek. Yup, I'm sweet on him.

I am fortunate to be surrounded by such wonderful people as the end of my mother's life draws near, people that have known my mother for years, decades even, and people that in a few short months have come to mean so much to her and to me.

Have I mentioned I've been blessed more times in the past few weeks than in my whole lifetime?

I miss my girl. I trust that someday she will understand why I have spent so much time far from her. She has my mother's spirit; I'm going to have my hands full.

A dear friend told me: 'you don't have to write it or post it. If it makes things harder then don't. But sometimes it helps to just write it down.' (-not an exact quote but it stuck in my head). Thanks bro. Your words mean the world to me. You are family.
To my dear friends who have been thinking of me these past few days... I love you.
Thank you.

The journey I've been on has been the most difficult I've ever faced, and it will only get harder. I draw my strength from mom, my girl, my family and my friends.

I love you all more than my luggage!
Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Bonne Fête Maman... tu me manques.

Go on, shake me

Still feeling a bit yucky but I have hope...



unlike poor Chuck. *giggle* (You can click it to big it)

I'm a firm believer that for every one of life's dilemmas, there is a cartoon quote that can provide guidance.

I'm serious.

So, just ask away and I'll try my bestest to find the answer you are looking for... I'll be your own personal Magic 8 Ball.

Go ahead... ask. I'll be nicer than Lucy, I promise.

"It's too late to crawl back into the egg."
- Woodstock

work zombie

Oh... please enjoy this piece. I give you Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman playing Handel's Passacaglia, as arranged for violin and viola by Halvorsen. This always calms the savage beast, forces me to breathe... and leaves me with the feeling that my life has just been saved.

For my friend Coco...