My Dad is cool

I spent most of this week hanging out with my Dad at VGH while he was waiting for surgery. He was released today; he's good. I'm tired.

The picture tells you of my Dad's enjoyment of gardening (10' tall sunflowers) and of his practical fashion sense (he took a pair of scissors to his shirtsleeves one hot summer day).

Super Noah

You know those irritating parents who think that their kid is so smart, so cute, the first kid ever to (insert childhood milestone that every kid routinely achieves)? Who can only talk about their kids and how fabulous they are?

Whatever. Get over it.

I've been saving up a few of my darling boy's cute-isms, just for you.

Career aspiration: Superhero.
Should you be interested, he is happy to speak at length about the powers he'll possess when he's a grownup (resistance to earthquakes, bedtimes, naps and doing things himself).

Super-creative:
When we queried Noah as to whether his creation was a flower or a cat, Noah put both hands out, in a clear demonstration of frustration and stated, "It's just art, Mama. It's just ART!"

Super-smart:
At speech therapy, he mis-identified a hexagon as an octagon. The therapist counted the six sides, and asked, "Are you sure?" Noah paused, looked thoughtful, then counted aloud, one to eight, then said, "No. That's not an octagon. Sorry. I don't know the word for that." (The assessment revealed he has the vocabulary of an average teenager.)

Super-philosophical:
Noah was expressing his irritation with having to hurry so he could get to daycare and me and Steve to work (a new thing for us), he stopped, sighed and said, "Oh well. That's the way it is. It's just a new life for us."

Isn't he super?

(Costume courtesy of 'Superhero Starter Kit' from Uncle Brian and Aunt Ann.)

Here it is

I know you've been desperately waiting for a picture of Brenda's bathroom.

Ta da!



New lighting, new taps, and plenty o' elbow grease and paint. (The wall tiles were hidden under the 70s cedar panelling.)

Love, love love

Last year, I posted a list of some of the things I love.

And I still love all those things.

Plus . . .

I love fingerless gloves. I love my new ring (it was my Mom's). I love that Steve lets me put my cold feet on him to warm myself up. I love a soft scarf on a cool day. I love slippers that keep my ankles warm. I love Spanish champagne. I love Brentwood Bay Lodge & Spa's "Simply Amazing Spa Getaway" (where we spent last weekend!) I love a good massage. I love Steve's triceps. I love goat cheese and pear.

I love that my five-year-old son uses the word "appendages" correctly. I love that Noah can choose his own clothes and dress himself. I love it when Steve packs my lunch. I love that it's February and my daffodils are up. I love that my friends volunteer at Gather & Give. I love that I'm going back to paid work with an organization that does good.

I love Wake Up Rosemary shampoo. I love Hungarian champagne. I love sipping champagne with Steve while we laugh our heads off at a movie (even if it has a dumb ending, which serves only to reinforce cultural stereotypes).

I love that you take the time to come visit.

And there's always champagne.

What do you love?

She says it's her birthday

Saturday was my sister, Brenda's birthday. She threw a barn-burner party not just to celebrate the successful passage of another year, but to give herself the deadline of completing a renovation of her main bathroom.

Meeting the deadline kept her up until 2 or 3 a.m. for the three days before her party, and required the help of a few cheerful volunteers, but met it was, even if the paint was barely dry. When B gets around to sending her pics, I'll let you see the room's fabulousness.

I'm sure most parties don't start with a bathroom tour, but B isn't most people. Her party was attended by folks ranging from age 15 to 60, and included family and co-workers, a local politician, a few musicians, an ex-husband and his girlfriend, an ex-boyfriend, Commercial Drive business owners, a film editor, a home stager, a lawyer, an actor, and an office administrator, just to give y'all an idea.

B and I sang "Landslide," accompanied by Ed on guitar and Abby on drums. We rocked.

I really do have a great bunch of siblings, but since it's B's birthday, let's make it all about her. She's fab. She's funny. She's flirty. She makes a wonderful cup of tea. She's fun. She's a great cook. She's addicted to cel phone games. She's a good mother. She's uber-stylish. She's so smart. She's an exceptional dancer. She's a successful business owner. She's irreverent. She's honest. And (not that looks are important) she's beautiful.
Go B!

Re-org

Sorry about the news gap from November to January. I had no idea that being sad would take so much energy. But since I have enough work trying to keep current news posted, I doubt I'll go back and fill in the gap.

For the past two weeks, I've been working like a rented mule at the Burnaby Hospice Society Thrift Store. Up from my normal Tuesday shift, I was at the store every day last week except Saturday. What started out as packing up toys and Christmas accoutrements escalated into a full-scale clear-out, cleaning and re-merchandising of the housewares and kitchen sections. And at the same time, other volunteers were beautifying the clothing section.

It may not sound like it, but it was a ton of fun. It was a lot of work, but the joy I get from creating order out of chaos made up for it.

In the hopes that good information will help maintain the new orderliness, I’ve offered to produce a volunteer training manual and an as-needed volunteer newsletter. The Thrift Store’s been operating for almost a year, and lines of communication are jagged at best. It’s been a learn-as-you-go training program, and I think it’s time to record some of the learned lessons.

(As much as I’d like to believe that a couple of good communication tools will ‘fix’ everything, I understand it’s not necessarily the case. In work situations, when faced with a client who thinks an ad or brochure is a magic bullet, I note that if an education campaign was all that was needed to cure society’s ills, the entire western world would be non smoking.)

I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, stop by and check out the new order.

This could explain a few things

I was secretly hoping to be Zoe, but this could explain why I find Ernie so incredibly irritating.

You Are Bert

Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you loveable - even if you don't love them! You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil How you live your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Happy Birthday

Noah turned 5 today. He really is a lovely, happy, funny, thoughtful, cooperative lad. As evidence of his new maturity, for the first time, Noah did not cry after we sang him Happy Birthday.

And if I could find my digital camera (this gives you some idea of the state of my office) you'd see what a big, happy boy he is.

But just in case you'd forgotten, he was once a small, happy boy.


Daddy, Mama, and Noah
October 2002

And here he is last year on his 4th birthday, post-tears.

My Mom

Mary Raechel (Chalifoux) McGuire

April 17, 1934 - November 14, 2006

Paris fashions

Y'know my sister, Brenda, owns Raya, a groovy clothing store on the Drive? So when we were in Paris, we were keeping an eye out for fashion trends to help her keep up to date.

I have always enjoyed Vancouver's casual style, but seeing so many well-dressed, well-groomed Parisians made me wonder if there isn't room for a little less Goretex and a few more blazers in the local wardrobe.

The key question would be: If I stop wearing all knits, who is going to do my ironing?

I'm pretty sure that's the dilemma these three were discussing.

Zion says

Our friend's son (Jascha, 14) and daughter (Zion, 12) were over this evening, at Noah's invitation. Zion tells this story (paraphrase).

I have never been so embarrassed! We were playing Simon Says, and Jascha says, "Simon says, do obeisance."

So I said, "Jascha! C'mon. What does 'obeisance' mean?"

Then I looked down, and Noah was kneeling on the floor with his arms stretched out towards Jascha. "C'mon Zion. You're supposed to bow."

My baby's growing up

A few weeks ago, Steve pointed out to me that Noah had a loose tooth. I'm such a sap, I almost cried. And last evening, while we were at a movie, Noah gave his tooth a final wiggle et voila, it came out.

These waypoints sometimes give me premonitions of future days when Noah doesn't want a hug from Mama, wants me to drop him a block from his destination, and when the longest conversation he'll want to share is to ask, "Can I borrow the car?"

One tooth, one emotional trauma.

Out of office replies

Someone sent me these in an email, and I just couldn't let them just languish in my 'archive' folder.

Best Out of Office Auto Replies:

1. I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position. Be prepared for my mood.
   
2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.
   
3. I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from holiday on November 5. Please be patient and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.
   
4. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.
   
5. I've run away to join a different circus.

-------

And since I'm in a sharing mood, go check out 'Monk-e-mail' (click the link in the sidebar). Steve and I gutted ourselves recording a birthday message for friends. I think it's most fun for the sender, so go dress a monkey and send someone a goofy message. You'll like it.

The cupboard is bare

Donations to the Greater Vancouver Food Bank are at an all-time low. Yikes. While they've normally raised around $150K by this time of the year, they've only raised $22K this year.

Scary.

Especially since I had Noah, the thought of hungry children breaks my heart. (See, I'm tearing up just writing this.)

The food bank can turn a dollar’s cash donation into three dollar’s worth of food through bulk discounts and corporate matching.

If you donate only $10, that's like a $30 donation of food for a family. And $20 makes $60, and so on, and so on...

I'm an arts major; you do the math.

Jardins de Versailles

One of my favourite days in France was spent walking around Versailles with David and Jen.

We had a picnic of bread, cheese and wine (but of course) under the trees, and Steve was much moved by the experience.

I enjoyed this series of shots Steve took, because with the aid of the zoom function, they give you an idea of what it would be like if one could actually walk on any of the grass throughout the grounds, which, of course, one couldn't.

While I played paparazzi to the garden's bees. . .

David and Jen passed the time en garde. (I wish I could post the video of their fencing match, ending with Jen's near puncture and dramatic response.)

I am not particularly interested in classical statuary, but as Versailles is practically over run with hunks of marble, I felt compelled to represent that. This tortured soul called to me.

FMS setback

We left Paris on Wednesday. On the following Saturday, David (Steve's brother) & Jen (Dave's darling) were going to an art opening. Guess who else was invited?

I'll bet Johnny loves karaoke.

FMS

I was planning to share the exciting news that I've finally booked our tickets to Paris, but the process pushed me to reveal to you that I have a behavioural disorder called FMS. My friend, Alison discussed her symptoms with me a few years ago, and I was able to self-diagnose.

FMS (the Fear of Missing Something) manifests itself in many ways, including:

1. an inability to put down a book once you've started it
2. a compulsion to read through the entire menu despite having seen your favourite dish on the first page
3. an inability to leave any social situation, even a deadly-boring party, because you think that the moment you leave: (a) Johnny Depp will arrive, (b) people will start dancing, (c) the host will break out their karaoke machine
4. a compulsion to check every store in the mall even though you've found something you like in the first store because you might find something: (a) cheaper, (b) that will go with everything you already own or (c) that will make you look thinner.
5. an inability to book an airline ticket a month in advance because you're sure a seat sale will be announced the day after you book

So here we are, flights booked 8 days before we depart for Paris. It's a good thing Steve's brother, David, lives there or I'd now have to spend a week not booking accommodation.

And unless I have a strong need to procrastinate, this will be my last post until we return since I've now got to spend the next week shopping, grooming and packing.

29 in Imperial years

Happy birthday to me! Okay, so it was September 8, but this is pretty close. And since I get to celebrate 'birth week' every year, and 'birth month' on the big years, this is still technically birth week.

We went out for sushi, sushi, sushi and a movie on the 8th, and on Saturday we had dinner at my sister, Robin's. Fun times had by all.

And in honour of Steve's 40th (in July), our 20th anniversary, and my birthday, we're going to Paris. As in France. Next week.

I guess I should book tickets.

Guess what?

Guess what happened 20 years ago today?

Here's a hint.





















And there's more to the romantic tale.

Our first date: Grad '83














And they called it preppie love.

Weekend to End Breast Cancer

Sixty kilometres, 2,100 walkers, $5.5 million.

That’s how I spent my weekend -- The Weekend to End Breast Cancer. And I’m sorry if this seems long, but I couldn’t boil the whole event into a smaller package.

Going into the weekend, I thought the main point and the hardest part was the fundraising. But my experience this weekend, and my sore feet today, are telling me something different.

Walking so far, with so many other women (and a few men) was . . .

I’ve sat for five minutes trying to think of the right word, knowing it sounds artificial and cheesy to say it was ‘amazing’ or ‘inspiring.’

It was hard. It was hard to get up off the grass at kilometre 30, knowing there were five more kilometres to walk. It was hard to get out of bed at 5:30 Sunday morning to walk another 25 km.

It was hard to watch a teenage girl stop walking at kilometre 55, step off the sidewalk and collapse onto the grass, crying and shaking her head.

But it was a relief to see a volunteer crew member pull up almost immediately to offer a ride in his motorcycle sidecar if she decided she couldn’t get up again.

It was fun to hoot and laugh with the volunteers who stood at the roadside dancing in elaborate costumes, ‘high-fiveing’ every walker who went past. And it was nice to accept a cold drink or a candy from residents standing along the route, cheering us on.

And it was funny to notice that most walkers spent a lot of extra time at the refreshment station run by 20+ male firefighters.

And honestly, it was painful to walk the last five km with muscle cramps and wickedly sore feet.

So my team members and I made the only sensible decision we could. We signed up for next year's walk.

You might think the aching muscles and sore feet would make me determined not to walk again. But they’ve just made me determined to train a little harder, stretch a little longer, weigh a little less, and try a different running shoe.

And I feel a little self-conscious saying this, and I know it sounds totally cheesy, but even if it dooms me to a career writing for ‘Chicken Soup for the Walking Soul,’ I really do mean it.

If my feeling a little pain means raising more money for better diagnostics and treatment, and that means someone fighting breast cancer experiences a little less pain, then okay. I can do that.


So this is a huge ‘thank you’ to those who donated to the cause, who supported me and our team while we were fundraising and training, and when we were walking this weekend. And this is a reminder to those who haven’t yet donated to click this link.

And this is invitation to you to walk with us next year. We start training in September.

Pictures to follow.