True Confession #1

This is a story of revenge.

In high school there was a girl who taunted me. She persistently spread rumours about me, convincing others that I was an immoral and unsavoury character who spent her after school hours in outlandish drug and alcohol-fueled sexual adventures. While I didn't want that kind of life, I would have liked it to be a lot more interesting than it was!

In truth, I was extremely hard-working in high school. I had to travel two hours each way just to get to and from school and on top of that, I worked twenty hours a week at my part-time job. Homework clocked in at anywhere from 2-3 hours a night. Most nights I got home around 11:30 pm, finished up whatever homework I couldn't complete at work or on the subway and went to bed. I had to be out the door again by 7 am each morning. In other words, fun was not my middle name.

Ok, that's going a little too far. Maybe my middle name was Fun-ish. There were good friends and a lot of laughter squeezed in there too, but not the kind this Warped Girl lied about.

In hindsight I think I was the target because [drumroll please] I had very large breasts. Think large and then think larger and you might be in the ball park. God knows they could have filled a ball park. And I was the only one in the high school with this particular attribute. It wasn't that big a school (perhaps 75 students in the upper grades) but my breast size more than compensated for that. My cups runneth over.

When you have large breasts as a teenager (and/or when you are tall, which I am), people automatically sexualize you ahead of schedule. They assume you are older than your years, more sexually experienced, sexually available to them, and never as intelligent as your less breasty peers.

I don't need to tell you how offensive and predictable the catcalls are from strangers at every turn. BreastMen never look you in the eyes, just the chest. Consider my four-hour daily commute to and from school on public transit, multiplied by god knows how many stares, gasps, remarks, and occasional attempts at gropes, and you feel my pain. And the bra straps digging deep into my shoulders. Winter was a godsend for the mere fact that I would be fully-covered in a bulky coat and blend into the crowds. There was no disguising it in the heat of summer. Hello girls!

Back to the Warped Girl at school. I tried approaching her several times to discuss what was going on and she refused to acknowledge me. It wasn't like a blatant bullying situation where it would have been easy to identify and address it. It was the whispering on the school bus and little blurted out remarks. I also felt slotted by some of the teachers for the same big, breasty reasons and did not feel I could trust them to help me. I like to think things are more progressive these days but I don't know if it's true. Ignorance was certainly thriving back then. As if I wanted to have giant, painful, attention-grabbing breasts. Not so much.

The two incidences that stuck with me were once when a much younger child at the school said something cheeky to me as I was walking to the bus, where it was obvious that he didn't really know what he was saying but had some feelings of disgust for me. This told me that the rumours were spreading through the lower grades.

The other time was when my one of my best friends confessed that her younger brother had come to her to share his concerns about my (rumoured) behaviour. While she defended me to him, I could see that she was in essence asking me if any of it was actually true. It was heart-breaking to see the good souls being infiltrated. I did not want to defend myself to her or anyone else. (I also did not and do not wish to condemn anyone who is entangled in drugs, alcohol-abuse or so-called promiscuous behaviour. While I was not engaged in the underbelly of life, everyone has their reasons when they do and to every thing there is a season. It is not my place to judge. I'd rather take the bullet.)

It was hard enough having an out of proportion body that drew unwanted attention and ongoing back aches (heavy breasts are very painful to cart around), but to have it provoke people to spread lies about me and treat me unfairly was a bit too much. Ironically, there were two girls in my class who did find themselves in a lot of trouble in the evening hours with drugs, alcohol abuse, and unprotected sex. They would confide in me about sexually-transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies (and bulimia), but, unlike me, they were slim and beautiful and thereby bi-passed this evil rumour mill. Not that I wanted anyone to experience what I did, but it did seem funny how people see what they want to see not what is right in front of them. Like that's news.

So, dear readers, I think I've sufficiently summoned up enough support and pity with my story thus far to lead into my confession of revenge. I'm not actually a vengeful person. Once in a while my lower self thinks up naughty possibilities for payback time, but I have this really mundane other self that cancels it out. I actually have strong feelings that the Powers that Be know the truth and I don't really have to try and convince anyone else of my worth. But in this case, an opportunity presented itself one day and I acted on it. Carpe diem, as I used to scribble on the front of my notebooks.

You may not think this act of revenge it was a big deal but it certainly was to me. Something overcame me.

A few years after graduating from high school, I was going to a Halloween party. My costume was comprised of a long, hooded robe my brother had bought in Morocco, and a strange tin mask my mother always had hanging on a wall of our house. I borrowed both items thinking it would be a quick, effective, no-cost costume.

Indeed, the hood of the robe hung nicely over the edge of the mask and I was completely covered from head to toe. Breasts and all. It was definitely a creepy, androgynous look.

I was meeting my friends a few blocks away and ventured out in full costume. It was just getting dark and the street lights were on.

As I got to the main road, I looked ahead of me and there was Warped Girl. I had not seen her since high school. She was dressed as a flapper and walking alone in my direction. We were the only two people on the sidewalk. I saw her glance at me to assess my costume as we approached each other. There is no way she could tell who I was or even if I was a man or a woman (or other).

My heart started to race. I wish I could tell you I had a plan but honestly, my whole self just acted without premeditated thought.

When she was directly beside me, passing by, I suddenly lunged in her direction and let out this incredible, visceral combination of a yell and a scream. It was so fierce, my throat hurt for days afterward.

I did not touch her physically but suffice to say, I scared the living crap out of her.

She SCREAMED. I thought she was going to faint. I saw this look of terror wobble through her face and run right through her body. In a split second she turned away and started to run. I let out one last RRRARRR which made her scream again and I watched as she disappeared around a corner.

I turned and continued on my way.

I said to myself, I cannot believe I just did that. It didn't feel good or bad or wicked or wrong or anything like that. It just kind of felt like it neutralized the situation. I knew I was not a bad person. I knew she had been a bubble-headed teenager. But somehow, my spontaneous outburst, which evidentally invoked holy terror in her, seemed to wipe the slate clean. From my perspective anyways. She probably had no recall of ever harming me back in high school and certainly had no idea it was me in that costume on that day. But I felt freed. Like I could let go of it and move on. Giant breasts and all.

Postscript
I thought of this story because I happened to see a photo of Now UnWarped Girl on Facebook the other day. I hold no grudge. And I always think about our crazy encounter each Halloween.

As for the breasts: when I was done breastfeeding my youngest child, I had reduction surgery. All those years of backache: vanished. Hecklers? Gone! Expensive bras? No need! It remains one of the best things I ever did for myself.

Happy Halloween.

Dear Family Memo #1

Dear Family,

I am pleased to announce that a free seminar

Replacing The Toilet Roll 101

will take place this Saturday in the upstairs washroom.

Please wear comfortable clothes (pj's are fine) and bring a boxed lunch. Apparently we might be there a while since no one in the past twenty years or so has managed to change more than two rolls except me. I know, I'm a genius, but I'm confident y'all can be geniuses too.

Admission is free. Seating is limited.

Love,

m.

impossible not to love #1

It is impossible not to love

this orange (maple) tree we pass each day on the walk to school:



These ducks who gather on the rooftops and chatter away:



This yellow tree:



And the squirreliest squirrel in our garden. He chirps incessantly at anything and everyone. His claim to fame is trying to stop a cat fight. He didn't succeed but he chirped about it for about a half hour after the dust had settled:



It is impossible not to love this time of year.

glimpses #1

Above
Here's my conclusion about hawks. You get one shot:



After that, they always have something better to do:



On the ground
Hats off to the farmer who conjured up the idea that s/he could get people to pay admission to walk around her/his cornfield under the guise of figuring out the maze. I always feel like we've been had when we do it. And yet we happily do it. Year after year.



The corn was very tall this year, which made it impossible to cheat the maze.



At home
The more I know Eli the rabbit, the more I like him. Funny how quiet rabbits are, yet such good communicators. I'm so used to having cats but rabbits are a whole other kettle of fish.

linky dinks #17

greetings fellow earthlings!

issue #17 of linky dinks is yet another mish mash of seemingly unconnected thoughts that have nothing in common but the fact that they interested me

and what more could you ask, really?

ok, let's get on it:

if the bees are ok, we are ok
it's been a rough year or so for the bees
and if you know how this big, old world works, that's never good news for us
martha stewart blogs about her honeybees

expand your mind. the universe is already doing it on its own.
q2c festival: from quantum to cosmos/ see the talks free online

i once had a subscription to this but let it go because i always have way more reading material than I can get through
the sun magazine some articles are online. there is enchantment there.

sometimes photoshopped photos capture truth more than untouched ones
china hush

occasionally the world responds to my rants
if you ask me:
LIFE is educational. Forget tv and dvd's for babies and toddlers (and so on). Let them play, get fresh air, whole foods, and interact within their worlds. The screen will not make 'em smarter. If anything, it dumbs 'em down. But the good news? You can take back your baby einstein videos for a full refund.
baby einstein is not educational

i'm looking forward to the day when obama is out of office
because that's when he'll have the freedom to really do what he's here to do
the same way Clinton has achieved so much more since he's been out of office
for now the oppositional forces are so determined to block his way
democratic politics are so very messy
lessons for obama

a new list I would like to expand upon
people who are 'pathologically honest'* (which is something I entirely enjoy)
1. kelly *I stole kelly's own words (pathologically honest) and then started making this list, which makes her the first honorary member.
2. kevin I thoroughly enjoyed the book that evolved from his blog, My Boring Ass Life. People on a message board starting asking him what the heck he does all day and he began writing about it. Delightful. And proves the point that no life is truly boring.
3. carrie Wishful drinking. A favourite book. Serious. Funny. Bipolar. Electroshock therapy. Truth. Recovery. It's all there.
4. _________ Should your name be here?
I look forward to growing this particular list. Maybe even add my name to it. Mwah ha haha.

have you ever known someone who requires very little sleep?
I have. I met Manley when we both worked for the same university professor who was a very productive and healthy guy and never slept more than 2-3 hours a night. He also ran many miles a day. I also remember hearing that Martha Stewart requires little sleep. In this story Roger Ebert talks about a man he knew who apparently did not sleep at all:
the man who didn't sleep

question of the day
if you will recall from human biology classes
90% of what we take in with our eyes is immediately disregarded by our brains
(no link: i was just reminded of this fact and it's on my brain)
So what is it we're not seeing?

six pieces of me (cluster #1)

1. I've never had coffee or alcohol. Not ever. Why? (you ask). I've never had any desire or urge to whatsoever. And believe me, once the hardcore consumers of these delights stumble upon this information, breaking my abstinence becomes their life's mission. To no avail.

The back story is that I grew up aware of coffee-addicted and alcohol-abusing adults in my life, and I never liked the idea of a substance holding that kind of power over me. That said, I swear I was born with a sugar addiction, that was only minimally fulfilled but remained ever-present until recent years. One angry tiger in the closet is quite enough for one person, I think. I didn't need the brewskies of either kind to compound my problem. And it's taken years to let sugar go. Thank god I didn't take on anything else.

2. Origin of my fear* of falling down stairs
One day when I was a toddler, I was using a baby walker on wheels (now banned in most parts of the world) and (accidentally) fell/went down the very steep basement stairs. By some miracle, the walker stayed upright and when I arrived at the bottom of the staircase, I continued footing myself around as if nothing had happened.

While I doubt my memory of the incident is first-hand (but rather stems from hearing this near horror story told and retold by my family), I believe it accounts for the fact that I have never ever in my life gone down a set of stairs without thinking about the fact that I could slip and fall.

*It's not exactly a fear, but a mind-fullness in a negative sense of the word.

3. Fear* of riding a bike down a hill
At age nine I was riding an adult's 10-speed bike very fast down a big hill on a busy road and the front wheel suddenly collapsed in on itself. I flew over the handle bars and landed on the side of the road. I don't recall any serious injuries (besides shock) but ever since then, every single time I ride my bike fast down a hill, I consider the fact that I could go flying off and be rather seriously injured.

*Do we see a theme yet? I'm yet to find a way to shut off these mental tapes.

4. The influence of dreams
I understood the meaning of soul as a very young child. I had a dream that a pack of dobermans (dogs) was attacking me. I stood in horror as they surrounded me and devoured my limbs. They then ate the rest of my body, leaving not a trace of me. And yet I was still there! I was still me but without a body. Hello soul!

Plus, (bonus) I realized that you can't feel physical pain in dreams. That was quite helpful too. It amped up my risk-taking behaviours in lucid dreams. Knowing I couldn't get physically hurt, I then started flying through walls and exploring a lot more of my dream worlds.

4. Why having only daughters provides Yang to earlier Yin
I have five older brothers and no sisters. Growing up, I desperately longed for a sister. Best friends came and went and I never had the Brady Bunch / imaginary intimacy with a female friend that I longed for.

I spent much of my childhood looking for a girl my age my parents could adopt. Each week I read the weekly column, Today's Child by Jean Lastname?, in the Toronto Star featuring children in foster care who were available for adoption.

I'd clip out profiles of girls who seemed compatible and pin them on my bulletin board. Occasionally, when I thought I'd found a sure bet, I'd show the clipping to my mother, hoping she'd leap in the car and rush to Toronto to make arrangements. While she never balked at my wishes, neither did she comply with them either. With five (mostly wild) boys in a very small house, her cup ranneth over.

Having grown up in Testosterone Hall, having only daughters (and female pets!) has offered a fine life balance overall. Manley is happily outnumbered and I found what I was always longing for.

5. I swam my way out of mono.
Years ago when I came down with a wicked case of mononucleosis, there was no way I could accept the prognosis that said I would probably be extremely tired and out of commission for many months. I had a young child, a full-time job, and a life to live, so the whole thing was just not acceptable to me.

It started with a strep throat so painful I wished death upon myself. I kid you not. And this is coming from someone who gave birth without medication. It was brutal. As the throat infection resolved but the mono-exhaustion remained, I got it in my head that I could exercise my way out of the mono. I'm not sure why I applied the theory of opposites, but I did. I started a swimming routine, and gradually worked up to two miles a day, seven days a week. I became really, really fit and did not feel the fatiguing effects of the mono ever again.

Did the swimming fight the mono? I'll never know. But I'm sure glad I did it.

6. How to make a poor memory a happy experience
For many years, I used to leave a $20 bill in my Winter coat pocket when I would store it away each Spring. (This was a time in my life when $20 was a good chunk of change.) And every Fall I would put on the coat, find the money, and feel happily surprised. I forgot I had put it there!

My memory is oddly selective. I can't remember anything I learned in school or movies I've just seen or much about books I've just read. And apparently I can't remember that I leave surprises for myself in things like coat pockets. While it's frustrating not to have a better brain, I have learned to work it to my advantage. For Manley it means he can tell and retell funny stories and I earnestly react with the full-on belly laugh each and every time, as if every time is the first time I've heard it, because essentially, it is. Everything old is new again.

There's lots of things I do remember, but like many people, much of it is stuff I wish I could forget. Which reminds me of another story. But I'll leave it for another time.

PS: As you can see by the lack of blog entries, it was a busy week and I'm way behind in answering emails.....C'est la vie. I hope life is sweet where you are.

household tip #1: opening jars

My sister-in-law Aw is a Thai chef (from Thailand). She's also Buddhist. She likes food to be both delicious and beautifully presented. If there's one thing that can lure me out of a raw food diet, it's her cooking.

Because baked goods are uncommon in Thailand, and I love learning new ways of cooking, we exchange lessons. Aw is very curious about yeast breads, cakes, and especially cinnamon buns. I am learning a variety of (mainly) veggie and noodle dishes. We seem to do about equally well trying replicate each other's methods. Her cinnamon buns come out tough (mine are light and fluffy) and my noodle dishes are okay but missing that extra wowy-powy awesome (a la Aw) taste. Aw's are Delicious with a capital D. But we both keep working on it. Funny how that works when we're cooking under identical conditions.

I admit I'm a bit reluctant to encourage her interest in baking. I mean, what good can come of it? Thailand has so far avoided the ill-effects of yeast breads (and dairy products). What if Aw returns to her homeland and sets a new trend that results in obesity in Thailand? I don't want my name on that paper trail! Perhaps I should have her sign a confidentiality agreement. What happens in Canada, stays in Canada.

Our cooking lessons get so funny sometimes that we've seriously considered taping them for a YouTube Thai cooking show. Aw is a natural on camera, and I'm sure a lot of people would love to learn how she cooks. We're still mulling this over.

During one cooking lesson, I was trying to open a very tight jar lid and Aw showed me how it's done in Thailand. She inserted a spoon under the lip of the jar and pressed the handle down. The outward movement of the spoon tip made the jar POP open. It's quite a satisfying sound. I've learned a lot of jar opening techniques over the years but this one is the simplest. My statistics so far indicate an 80% success rate on the first try.



POP. Awesome.

update on peebee #5: the end?

I'll never forget the first time we met. I arrived home to find him standing at my front door. I said hello and he jumped up on the railing to get a better look at me. Not certain of his name, my daughter dubbed him PeeBee, short for Pretty Bird.






PeeBee soon learned that there's fine bird seed and peanuts to be had in the back garden and he started spending his days there. Each morning I'd come out at the same time and he would be there waiting for me. I'd pour the seed and then talk to him for a while. If I tried to leave too soon, he'd hop down to the ground and follow me. Sweet bird.




Before long, all of the other critters in the Empire had met our fine Prince and befriended him. PeeBee played no favourites (except perhaps me). He was willing to share with anyone who came along and didn't seem to fear or cause fear in anyone.

The squirrels could be engaged in five-way wars and PeeBee would just stand there in the midst of their chaos, bobbing his head now and then to get a better look.



Some days I would be doing yoga in the house and I'd look out to find PeeBee doing yoga on the fence.

Eventually, I would be working in the back garden and PeeBee would fly around from roof top to roof top. I could call him and he'd come flying over to our house and then hop down onto the fence, confident that I had left him something delicious to eat. Smart bird.

After a few weeks together, I began to worry about PeeBee's future. He was a tame pigeon living like a free bird. I did not want to confine him in a cage for the winter, but I knew his chances of survival would not be great without some assistance.

We had many conversations about this, he and I. I told him, if he was going to find a better winter home, he should do it soon. There were also a lot of hawks spending a little too much time on the roof tops, and I suspected they were trying to figure out how to spell PeeBee so they could put his name on the dinner menu.

Soon after we went on a day trip. I had a feeling that morning would be the last time I saw PeeBee. Sure enough, he wasn't there when we arrived home. Or the next day. Or the day after that. And I haven't seen my sweet prince since then.
My hopes are that he found another sweet spot to land. Somewhere safe and warm with good seed, fresh water, and more fine conversation. I miss our morning talks. He was a great listener.

Farewell, PeeBee. It was a honour having you here.

linky dinks #16

i can't always remember which photos i've used here, so these may be reruns from the summer but no matter....they seem appealing on this cold fall day

welcome to linky dinks #16

Today theme is themelessness. In other words, these links just tickled me one way or another and have therefore become their own Brady Bunch of Hyperlinks.

lost and found
I read a lot of blogs. Mostly I swoop and skim. Sometimes I become so enamoured, I go through the entire archives to devour the goodness. As I've mentioned before, about once a year, my (old and clunky) computer goes bizerk-o and I have to reset it to its factory settings to get it functioning again. And every time I do this, I seem to forget to save my bookmarks (I've since switched to GoogleReader).

The fallout has been that I have lost track of a number of people/blogs I really enjoyed following. Every so often I think of someone I used to connect with years ago (in the early days of blogging when it was still so very cozy) and I squeeze my brain trying to recall names of details to find/search for that person again. So many went by pseudonyms that complicate the search. It's funny how these people live on in my mind. It almost makes me wish there was a Facebook-type application for online pseudonyms, where people could remain anonymous but still be found by those old names.

Stephanie's blog nie nie caught my eye a few years ago because of her beautiful photographs (and husband and four children). Quite honestly, first and foremost, her unfathomable (to me) beauty grabbed me.

Last week I happened to see her on Oprah. Another lost blog found! And I couldn't believe what had happened since I last checked in on her. A year ago, Stephanie and her husband were in a horrible plane crash and by some miracle escaped the burning wreckage. Stephanie received burns to over 80% of her body. It's hard to know what else to say, except her strength and beauty most certainly endure.
nie nie
more about Stephanie on Oprah.com

lost and found wedding rings
one ecologist and his lost wedding ring

which reminds me of my own story:
the story of Manley losing his wedding ring

how low can you go?
I've been wearing the same clothes (or versions of them) for most of my adult life (think Happy Hobo). My interest in fashion and trends hovers around a solid zero, but, I admit some things catch my eye and occasionally give me a good laugh. Case in point: boys wearing their pant waistbands around their hips. It's funny, impractical, and, well, yet another goofy trend. Every era seems to have some version of this.

This said, I have now learned the secret behind this style. I had no idea...
http://dropular.net/drop/72813
Now I get it.

sharing is caring
If there's one deplorable aspect to the internet, it's the mean stuff. I'm always in favour of healthy debate, but snap judgements, and the attack mentality, do not tickle me pink. How easy it is, with just a few keystrokes, to attack and condemn with little thought or understanding. Or no concern for the ill effects. When it is good, it's very, very good and when it is bad it is indeed wicked.

I mention this because when Gwyneth Paltrow started goop.com, the trolls and critics came out in droves. Kind words don't drive traffic the way negatives do. Personally, I like to be my own judge and jury. After all, you never know when you'll find gold in them hills. And last time I checked, celebrities really are thinking/feeling human beings like the rest of us.

I enjoy goop. My hunch is that if Gwyneth wasn't famous, there wouldn't be any negative backlash about it. See for yourself.
goop

toying with you
massive marionette
make a felt doll

elements
It amazes me how much it has changed since my own high school chemistry classes. I loved math, physics, and chemistry. You just follow the theories and formulas and poof: it all works out. If only life were that simple.
periodic table showing uses for each of the elements

the world may be going to hell in a handbag, but that doesn't mean there aren't a lot of neat-o people doing a lot of neat-o things
inventor girl

smile
i don't care if...

thought of the day
Wherever you go, there you are.

secrets and letting go

These week's theme seems to be secrets. The pain of keeping them. The fear of revealing them. The healing power of finally releasing them. Pride, shame. Acknowledgement, forgiveness.

First I heard someone say, 'you're only as sick as your secrets' . I had not heard this expression before. And then I heard it three more times within a few days.

Next I heard Chris Rock say, 'Secrets rock the soul.'

Then I read:

'Secrets are like vampires. A wise friend of mine once said this. They suck the life out of you, but they can only survive in the darkness. Once they're exposed to the light, there's a moment of horror, of recognition, but then poof--they lose their power over you.' - Jeanette Walls (O Magazine)

Next I heard:

'If you have somebody you love, I don't care how much you love them, if you can't be honest with them, it's not going to work. If she don't know your secret, it's going to haunt you. You can't love her.' - Mike Tyson

They are all saying the same thing. You cannot have health, balance and love while secrets are suppressed. The energy to keep things hidden seems to divert the river-o-love.

I think letting go of secrets can be very healing or damaging. It depends on who you reveal it to and why. And how it is received. In the wrong hands, a secret becomes fodder for gossip and scorn. In the right hands it can be embraced, respected, and placed in its proper place. Perhaps dismantled and let go of. Once and for all.

This got me thinking about secrets I have kept over the years. For the most part, they are other people's secrets which I either witnessed or stumbled upon. This rather long list includes: rape, incest, physical and emotional abuse, molestations, deceit, theft, fraud, infidelity. The degree of seriousness varies from criminal to minimal. Sometimes I knew the victim, sometimes the offender. Sometimes both. And every one of them kept their secrets locked up so tightly inside. I can see how it has steered their lives and taken them along very rough roads. Some secrets really blow out your power steering.

Sometimes I wonder what effect keeping other people's secrets has had on me and my health. I've felt much more weight from those secrets than any pockets of regret or shame I carry about myself. Sometimes opportunities come up where it would probably be very healing to let the secret come out, but it's kept inside. And it's not my place to tell it. So it isn't told. I just stand by, hoping. Waiting.

I do know one funny secret of my own I would like to tell. In high school my best friend, Jo, kept breaking up with her boyfriend, Jake, and getting back together with him. Once, while they were on yet another break, he came over to visit me and we kissed. I mean, really excellent and delicious kissing. After an hour or so of exceptional snogging, he left and my friend showed up not ten minutes later. I couldn't believe they didn't run into each other going to and from the streetcar! When my friend arrived, I was still very happily jelly-legged from the effects of his visit but I said nothing. Of course.

I'm sure Jo would have suspected something because her spidey-sense was otherwise quite tuned in, but it would have never occurred to her (or me) that he would ever show up at my house and end up in this low-level booty call, so she probably interpreted the stupefied look on my face as something else. She did not pick up on the scent of lust. Or the scent of him. Or the secret from then-on kept.

(In case you don't know the Code of Acceptable Behaviour, it would have been considered fairly criminal for me to lock lips with Jake even while he was possibly forever broken up with Jo. The unwritten Code allowed each of them to quietly date other people while on these breaks, just not other people the other person knew, and certainly not the best friend.)

(No wonder anthropologists struggle to understand ancient civilizations.)

Jo always assumed that she was to have the boyfriends and I was not desirable to the boys. And that's how our lives pretty much played out. Except in truth, I was never desirable to the boys I found desirable, with the exception of her boyfriend, who I didn't want to have as my very own boyfriend but I very much enjoyed kissing. If you follow.

That's quite different than being entirely undesirable though I see no fault in that either because my very favourite friends ever (and I assure you, I have outstanding taste) all seem to have been people who had few or no suitors for many, and sometimes very lonely years. In summary, most of the world has poor taste in partners. I think we're all very blind when it comes to noticing outstanding and beautiful souls who are all around us. Over and over again, we are attracted to the wrong things. The wrong people. My (then) self included. And man, do I wish I could have do-overs. There were several very fine young men I turned down or did not notice until it was too late.

I guess you're not ready until you're ready and until then, you make bad choices and deal with those instead.

So, back to Jo and Jake. They reconciled a few times and finally broke up for good. Jake and I would spend time together during each of the hiatuses. Kind of like we were dating but we were not. Our snogfests remained our secret, though there were several times when Jo was quite mean about her ability to attract such a multitude of boyfriends versus my apparent inability to do so, that every so often I wanted to tell her about Jake and I to get back at her. I know, it's terribly petty but she could be mean, and I was the underdog, and it would have packed a good wallop for her to hear that her favourite boyfriend, who she could never quite get along with, liked spending time with me. And not just for kissing. There were occasional movies and games of Scrabble in there too. She would have been shocked. And I would have had one small moment of guilt-ridden and pathetic victory. Even though he was obviously playing both of us.

The odd part of the story is that even after all these years, I still occasionally feel the urge to tell her about it and I can see that the information would not be well-received. Jo is still very competitive with me. I wish that wasn't the case. I think it would be funny to compare notes on how very young we were and how messed up our little love triangles were. But I don't see it ever being a prudent choice to spill these little beans to her. She would just be hurt. So instead, I keep the secret. Except now you know it too.

Your turn.

P.S. Yes, I know about PostSecret. I don't always believe them, but I like the idea. Somewhat.

frosty note to self

Last time the temperature was below zero this year: May 18, 2009 (even though we were taunted with frost-like temps into June)
First fall frost: October 12, 2009
Number of hours the temperature stayed below zero during first frost: 11 (that's a lot)
Number of frost-free days we relished in this year: 146 (that's also a lot)











Nature makes dying looks so very beautiful.

thanksgiving weekend

In a happy coincidence, my family is gathering this weekend and it will mark the first time my five brothers and I have all been together in (*gasp*) twenty-two years (or something like that). Time flying seems to be a prevailing theme recently.

Here's some pics from last year's October vault:










and, from eight years ago:



Just between you and me, sometimes I really, really miss having a baby/toddler in the house. Unless you're Michelle Duggar, that gap between having kids and becoming a grandmother is a bit too long for a baby-obsessed types like me.

There are certain points in parenthood where one feels quite competent, and other times where one feels incompetent. It's a slow motion roller coaster ride through phases of highs and lows and coasting along. Babyhood was definitely one of my best parenting eras. I savoured it. All of it. And (boasting) I can whisper even the most relentless little gaffer into a restful sleep. Perhaps that's why I still get such big baby pangs sometimes: longing for one last run at those sweet days.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving. Savour the harvest and swing your sickle like you mean it.

google street view: a friendly big brother?

Last spring I happened to see the Google street view camera car four times in my neighborhood. Three of those were within five minutes of each other, so I figured if I would be able to find myself in the online images somewhere. They have now been posted for my area. I found me (and my mother) in one of the images. We were having our morning chat after walking the kid to school:



I have to say I find the whole notion of street view images both creepy (invasive) and very interesting and useful. It's yet another tool that can be used for both good and evil. I suppose those are always the most valuable kind.

After scouring the houses in my neighborhood, I then started looking at places I used to live.

I found my childhood home in Richmond Hill, Ontario. It now looks a little small for a family of eight. And it was:



The nearby pond was the centre of my childhood universe. Much of my free time was spent fishing (we always threw them back) and exploring in the (then) undeveloped and wild back area. There used to be a bridge over the creek/river that was perfect for playing Billy Goats Gruff with evil trolls. Winter meant skating from dawn until dusk (I kid you not. I stopped only when I really, really had to pee and I would run home in my skates to use the washroom. I would crawl across the floor so I wouldn't have to take my skates off.) The pond is far more civilized now (below) but we knew it when....



This is the house we moved to in downtown Toronto when I was a teenager. My mother plants magnolia trees everywhere she lives and this one (left of the house) is now about 25 feet tall! My bedroom was at the very top. We loved that house.



We lived there in a little golden era when the housing prices were low (the house was $89,000 was back then, as opposed to ten times that now) and the 'neighborhood watch' consisted of a core group of intoxicated men who always watched out for me when I was coming and going at odd hours for school and work.

They would drink copious amounts of anything containing alcohol and sleep much of the time in vacant front gardens but when I went by they all said, Good morning, Blondie! and some would even stand up to bow. They were sweet, funny, and kind and I felt protected by them. There were pockets of prostitution on nearby streets and when the occasional John would drive by thinking that because I was a female alone I must be there to service him, my Boys (the Neighborhood Watch) would set him straight in no time. That was chivalry at its finest.

I have to say, while my inner jury is still out on the invasive feeling of the street view images (despite the fact that they block out faces and licence plates), I have to say it's really fun to look around areas I used to know. I have visited these old haunts once in a while but having the ability to really look things over from home with the seamlessly connected images is so satisfying.

How to do it? Street views are only available in some areas but give it a whirl.
You go to:
googlemaps.com/
and type in the address you want to see.
Then, when the map view comes up, drag the little yellow person icon to the location you want to see from street view:



From there, you can go along any streets and turn 360 degrees to see whatever you like.

It's addictive! Between Google Earth and Street View, you could do a whole lot of fun traveling from your desktop. You have to download Google Earth(well worth it! for exploring the entire planet) but Google Maps with street view is a web-based application so no downloading necessary.

As expected, people are finding all sorts of strange and funny things in these images, from identifying fleeing bank robbers to the simple bizarre things that people do.

Here's a few examples:
http://www.canoe.ca/Travel/Microgalleries/googlestreetviewcanada/home.html
google street view glitch creates two C.N. towers

Question of the day
Have you tried Google Street View? Or Google Earth?

linky dinks #15

please note, I find it an overwhelming task most days to hit the upper case key so I randomly indulge in my preference for lower case letters despite the ghost of my grammar-hounding parents (both living and dead) whispering in my knows-better self's ear. and what kind of english is that, they'd ask?

today's selection features dead relationships, non-believers, dead flies, and death

but not in an uncheerful way



I think relationships are often over long before the people involved actually end it. For example, when a couple announces a separation or divorce, it's usually long after the pain and battles have taken place. By the time they actually formally deal with it, their hearts have probably somewhat healed from the terrible pounding they have been through. We tend to endure a lot before we finally face up to it and let it go, don't you think? Which may not be a bad thing. It's just the way we are.

It was over when is a site where people tell when they knew it was over. Oh, those pivotal moments:
it was over when (tales of romantic dead ends)
I've had several of those moments in friendships, where I knew it was time to part ways, but I didn't have the balls to deal with it at the time, instead letting it gradually spiral into its inevitable state of disrepair....There have been a few times when it felt just impossible to deal with it at the time. But it was still time.

an enjoyable radio interview with Richard Dawkins
the famous atheist on a religious show? say it is so!
I enjoy it whenever people with opposing beliefs can compare notes and listen to each other without trying to overpower each other (or poke each other's eyes out)
http://www.cbc.ca/tapestry/archives.html (see October 4, 2009 free podcast)

keith olberman on health care and reform, as told from the perspective of someone whose father is receiving top notch health care only because Mr. Olberman has the bucks to pay for it on top of private insurance. Otherwise, things might not be nearly so rosey in such a dire time:
keith olberman video cast

as a person who routinely photographs dead things, purely for the beauty of it (plants, insects, spiders, bees, birds....), I quite enjoyed this:
dead fly art

Question of the day: Have you got pivotal moments where you knew a relationship was over (before it actually ended)? Feel free to share.

doctor's note

a girl and her rabbit

Technically, it's her sister's rabbit but that cannot stop this crazy affair. My girl obsessively coddles Eli and Eli is a complete, silly and goofy imp with her. And only her.

For me, he's a sweet friendly rabbit, spending much of his days hopping around the house, nibbling on my ankles while I work at my desk, occassionally napping under the tv table.

But my girl brings out the mischievous monkey in him. She cuddles him like a baby, he takes what he wants and then runs off, daring her to try and catch him. Just for the record, a rabbit that doesn't want to be caught by a girl, will not be caught by a girl. I enjoy Eli's sense of humour. He's definitely his own man. Rabbit man.

Photo taken on Sunday morning which for my girl means:
1) no piano practice
2) chocolate chip pancakes
3) unlimited obsessing over Eli

linky dinks #14

Did anyone see the brilliant and beautiful Tererai Trent on Oprah last week? "As a young girl in rural Zimbabwe, Tererai Trent lived without running water and electricity and had no hope for her future....." Later this year, Tererai will receive her PhD. You can watch her story on here. Tererai's life was forever changed when a woman from Heifer International happened to visit her tiny village.

Did you know that the most violent and war-torn parts of the world are the very same ones where women are not allowed to be educated (or it is very difficult and rare to do so)? This is not a coincidence. The way to peace is through true empowerment. Knowledge. Equality. Education. Freedom. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen is about one man's mission to promote peace . . . one school at a time.

Women for Women International connects women around the world.
Your support can change another woman's life and through sponsorship and engaging in a penpal relationship.
women for women international

Here's several more ways to help:
support a mom ideas

I happened to see Yoko Ono and Sean Lennon performing on The View last week. While I've never really embraced Yoko's voice, I found this performance very moving and beautiful. The lyrics are quite poignant....I got a little teary-eyed thinking about the violence she has witnessed in her own life and watching her sing it at this point in her life.



Imagine.

film clip of anne frank

While there are many good reasons for picking an overall topic for one's blog and sticking to it, I quite like the freedom to do whatever the hell I please. For this blog to be enjoyable for me, I have to always go where I feel like going, instead of where I think I should go.

I mentioned previously that the thought of writing an anonymous Dear Diary sort of blog appeals to me until I weigh the risks and costs.

Sometimes I think it would be fun to write the blog entirely by hand, using my tablet: doodles and all, to give it another dimension of interest.

Some days I think about sticking to a routine. For example, taking a photograph at the same time every day, no matter what I'm doing at that time. Or, writing down my dreams each morning. But that would probably be far more personal and revealing than any Dear Diary ramblings I could write. And probably only instructive for me, i.e. no reason to share it.

Once in a while I think about updating my Obsession List. I used to keep one on a previous blog. It was quite fun to track people (famous and not famous) and things (ideas, stuff, activities) that were enthralling me and engaging me on a daily basis, and see how the list would twist and turn. I love lists. And when I'm interested in something, I dive deep. I'm an all or almost nothing kind of girl.

I think this is my way of saying, I'm going to be a little more experimental here. Eclectic. Daring. Sometimes even more boring. And use the blog like an art installment of the human kind. Put a little more effort into the goofy ideas for blog posts I have sometimes (but don't follow through on because they would take a little extra time or seem out of place) and give 'em a whirl. There's really nothing to lose....

I don't really know why all that came to mind as a preface to this clip, but, whatever. It's all good.

Here's the only known film footage of Anne Frank:


She was my first childhood hero.

linky dinks #13

Have you ever experienced the illusion that a vehicle moving ahead of you on a highway is actually headed toward you? This paint job would probably not help the situation:
backward painted truck

lovely cottage
lovely cottage in argentina

this reminds me of my music-loving brother pete
http://diggfoto.com/2009/09/21/with-guitar-for-traveling/

this is what a dalai lama licious feminist looks like
http://jezebel.com/5366712/this-is-what-a-feminist-looks-like

Sometimes I think it would be fun/cathartic/engaging to have a completely candid and anonymous blog to spill the beans in each and every day. Kind of an adult Dear Diary, You-won't-believe-what-happened-today- self-centred-funny-revealing-painful-joyous-humorous-sort-of-journal. And then I think again. The reality is, while it can be useful to write that stuff out, anonymous is never really anonymous. If readers want to find out who you are, they will.

There's been plenty of 'anonymous' bloggers (or other types of online writers) who have been outed for one reason or another. And even if you don't go to a greath lengths to hide your identiy, basically, the more opinionated or candid you are in this world, the more you will divide your audience. Some will love you, some will hate you, and some will love to hate you. Others may just coast along out of interest, unsure of what they really think.

As a great fan of personal memoirs, it pains me to think of the price paid for telling one's own (often unfair or exagerated version of events). I'm delighted that others take the risk. But I think you have to either have a very thick skin, a huge payout, or enjoy pain to write such a journal online, day in and day out.

In the following case, the writer was simply very candid in her online column, first about her marriage and subsequent divorce, and now, perhaps, pays too big a price. Simply put: who wants their life portrayed from someone else's point of view, for all to see? I stopped MommyBlogging at the request of my oldest daughter who was (then) becoming a teenager and didn't want any of her life discussed, no matter how what. (And I was very careful and respectful with anything I wrote about, that still was too much for her, which I could accept.)

You can put it all out there, but few friends (characters in your life story) will probably stick around for the long haul. That's a big price to pay. And I think this is why fiction was invented: use what you know, change it up, and let her rip on the written page. Or use actual names and events and ensure that all of your best friends are cats for ever more. This isn't the most compelling story/interview, but it got me thinking about this whole topic when I read it:
liz jones

This kind of summarizes everything that is wrong with our world right now, environmentally speaking. Free enterprise of the quirkiest and most wasteful order. Am I being harsh? Yes. But ever since I saw footage of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, I can't help but despair over any/all gratuitous use of plastics. On a lighter note, there's lots of funny ideas here, and I did have a laugh at some of them, but still, when will our madness stop? Can we really afford to keep making a plethora of goofy things that we don't really need and will end up as garbage on land or sea?
82 odd products

and the seasons, they go round and round...
another fine performance by the PS22 Chorus
I think of this song (the lyrics) at this time of year when it's so deeply beautiful outside and yet you know what the sequel will be...
the circle game

Question of the day: What do you think about being candid online?