On our way to Hawaii, we stopped in Denver, L.A., and finally Kona. At every stop, every person we met-- other passengers, employees of the airports, Starbucks Baristas, the 18 year old boy stuck on the end of our aisle for a 5 hour flight-- was not only extraordinarily charismatic but also incredibly kind.
So what gives, prairie home town? What is it about our culture that causes most people I encounter at home to be at best apathetic and bland and at worst surly and rude? Why is it that humour, if noticed, is poorly received? Why on earth can't we crack smiles at one another and be cheery in our daily interactions? Knowing that these kind of strangerly pleasantries are possible makes me embarrassed for our city. Are we so busy trying to be Big City that we are imitating some horribly inaccurate stereotype of real ones? Honestly?
Please note, this is not a rhetorical question of an entry. Feel free to venture a guess in the comment section.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
There's a blog about that?
Yes. Yes there is.
Cake Wrecks is a blog about bad cakes. And it is quite funny. Who knew?
I am actually terrified that one day one of N's birthday cakes will appear on this site and she will be forever scarred by my mutilation of one of her favourite characters and completely mortified by my lack of icing prowess. Until that day, though, I will gladly laugh at the cake misfortunes of others.
Cake Wrecks is a blog about bad cakes. And it is quite funny. Who knew?
I am actually terrified that one day one of N's birthday cakes will appear on this site and she will be forever scarred by my mutilation of one of her favourite characters and completely mortified by my lack of icing prowess. Until that day, though, I will gladly laugh at the cake misfortunes of others.
Made You Smile
A friend of mine sent this to me a while ago in response to my posting of some street theatre. I can't explain why, but it seriously made me tear up. I know it's ridiculous, but I guess it just made me think of how amazing it is to be alive and how awesome it is that people would take the time to spend some of their time living doing something that served no purpose other than to make complete strangers smile. I want to be more like that.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Vow
Our Sixth [married] year began with the announcement to all that I was pregnant. We had no idea what the year would hold, only that it would be like no other before it.
C supported me through the nausea, aches, pains, and acute lack of sense of humour all the while massaging my feet and picking up things I could not reach. When the big day came, I never once felt fear-- not even as I lost more blood than I ever have in my whole life-- because he was by my side and if there's anything the last five years had taught me, it was that we could do anything as long as we were together. He was everything I needed him to be at the exact moment I needed him to be it.
In N's first four months, he worked so hard at balancing fatherhood and his job and his masters and his extracurricular and the various committees to which he belonged and and and. He spent nights walking the floor or trying to sleep on the couch with our colicky little N in his arms. He did everything he could to help me get some sleep. Things were the farthest from perfect they had been our entire relationship, but somehow he made me feel more loved than ever before.
Things slowly began to look up-- C's outside commitments dropped one by one, N's digestion and sleep improved. We strengthened the faint pulse of a social life we still had left. We smiled and laughed like we used to.
We were one day from our first summer as a family, the first summer in which niether of us would take a second job, one day away from the promise of lazy days spent just enjoying life and one another.
Then there was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.
Never have I felt less equipped to be a wife. How do I console, how do I help, how do I? In spite of his unimaginable pain, C has continued to be an incredible husband and father, ensuring I still feel appreciated and loved and shielding N from his sorrow. Everyday I continue to be amazed by this man who chose me, whom I chose.
Unlike the others, this year will not get lost amid 5,7,8,9 as our relationship marches on. This year will stand out in the most bittersweet way.
In good times and in bad. I do.
Love you, C.
C supported me through the nausea, aches, pains, and acute lack of sense of humour all the while massaging my feet and picking up things I could not reach. When the big day came, I never once felt fear-- not even as I lost more blood than I ever have in my whole life-- because he was by my side and if there's anything the last five years had taught me, it was that we could do anything as long as we were together. He was everything I needed him to be at the exact moment I needed him to be it.
In N's first four months, he worked so hard at balancing fatherhood and his job and his masters and his extracurricular and the various committees to which he belonged and and and. He spent nights walking the floor or trying to sleep on the couch with our colicky little N in his arms. He did everything he could to help me get some sleep. Things were the farthest from perfect they had been our entire relationship, but somehow he made me feel more loved than ever before.
Things slowly began to look up-- C's outside commitments dropped one by one, N's digestion and sleep improved. We strengthened the faint pulse of a social life we still had left. We smiled and laughed like we used to.
We were one day from our first summer as a family, the first summer in which niether of us would take a second job, one day away from the promise of lazy days spent just enjoying life and one another.
Then there was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.
Never have I felt less equipped to be a wife. How do I console, how do I help, how do I? In spite of his unimaginable pain, C has continued to be an incredible husband and father, ensuring I still feel appreciated and loved and shielding N from his sorrow. Everyday I continue to be amazed by this man who chose me, whom I chose.
Unlike the others, this year will not get lost amid 5,7,8,9 as our relationship marches on. This year will stand out in the most bittersweet way.
In good times and in bad. I do.
Love you, C.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Six
C beat me to the punch and now I'm at a loss for words. I've tried to start this entry six times and nothing is working. It's not that I don't have anything to say it's that no words are able to say it.
I'll try again tomorrow.
I love you, C. Happy anniversary.
I'll try again tomorrow.
I love you, C. Happy anniversary.
A spoonful of thankfulness to help the bitterness go down...
My last entry paints a pretty bleak picture of our last two and a half weeks. The fact is that it hasn't all been insensitivity and head shaking. Times like these really can bring out the best in people. I've never been good at accepting generosity because I have always felt guilty about my privilege and tried to be the generous one as penance. As the youngest, being fiercely independent was an early goal of mine and one at which I have been quite successful. I rarely reach out for help even when I need it. The past 17 days have schooled me in the grace of acceptance and comfort of humility.
First, let me give thanks for all the kind words we have had the honour of hearing and reading. From family and friends and strangers and public figures, the sincere, heartfelt lines-- long and short-- have offered so much comfort. One dedicated reader of Paul's offered thanks to C and his sisters for the time that Paul spent writing (which they acknowledged took time away from family). The honourable Ralph Goodale spoke of Paul's effect on Federal Legislation. Old friends offered memories. Family members who could have painted words of sympathy with one broad brush chose instead to address individual cards to each family member, recognizing their unique feelings of grief.
Next, to your gestures of friendship and kindness. Thank you so much for all the food. Not having to cook has freed up so much time-- our most valuable commodity as of late. The wholesome menu has also offered its own kind of comfort. Thank you as well to those who thought of K and provided her with vegetarian fare. You saved her from a solid diet of grilled-cheese sandwiches and dainties. Thank you for the donations to Amnesty and all other monetary generosity. Thank you to Krista for the photographs-- now no matter what happens in the years to come, we can travel to the farm through the album. Thank you for picking up groceries, for feeding and petting our cats. Thank you for mowing our lawn and watering our flowerbeds. Thank you for listening. Thank you for checking in. Thank you for leaving work and driving an hour to offer a shoulder of the old friend variety in our darkest hours. Thank you for coming to the funeral and showing your support-- the turn out was overwhelming. Thank you to all those who have lived this hell themselves and who have offered their advice and understanding.
In spite of some bumps along the media road, I do want to thank the majority of newspapers in this province for their kind tributes to Paul. I also want to thank Working and her pals at the CBC for putting together a CD featuring clips of Paul as well as their coverage from the day after the accident.
Finally, thank you for thinking of us. I truly believe in the power of positive energy and though nothing can bring Paul back, being surrounded by such an incredibly supportive group will help us to heal.
If you did not know Paul, I am sorry you never got the chance. Your life would have been richer for it. Even if you did know him in one capacity or another, chances are you would be surprised at what a polymath he was.
The following are articles about and tributes to Paul. Please honour him by having a read.
CBC.ca
Grainews
Working From Home Today
Winnipeg Free Press
His obit and a lot of the columns he wrote
First, let me give thanks for all the kind words we have had the honour of hearing and reading. From family and friends and strangers and public figures, the sincere, heartfelt lines-- long and short-- have offered so much comfort. One dedicated reader of Paul's offered thanks to C and his sisters for the time that Paul spent writing (which they acknowledged took time away from family). The honourable Ralph Goodale spoke of Paul's effect on Federal Legislation. Old friends offered memories. Family members who could have painted words of sympathy with one broad brush chose instead to address individual cards to each family member, recognizing their unique feelings of grief.
Next, to your gestures of friendship and kindness. Thank you so much for all the food. Not having to cook has freed up so much time-- our most valuable commodity as of late. The wholesome menu has also offered its own kind of comfort. Thank you as well to those who thought of K and provided her with vegetarian fare. You saved her from a solid diet of grilled-cheese sandwiches and dainties. Thank you for the donations to Amnesty and all other monetary generosity. Thank you to Krista for the photographs-- now no matter what happens in the years to come, we can travel to the farm through the album. Thank you for picking up groceries, for feeding and petting our cats. Thank you for mowing our lawn and watering our flowerbeds. Thank you for listening. Thank you for checking in. Thank you for leaving work and driving an hour to offer a shoulder of the old friend variety in our darkest hours. Thank you for coming to the funeral and showing your support-- the turn out was overwhelming. Thank you to all those who have lived this hell themselves and who have offered their advice and understanding.
In spite of some bumps along the media road, I do want to thank the majority of newspapers in this province for their kind tributes to Paul. I also want to thank Working and her pals at the CBC for putting together a CD featuring clips of Paul as well as their coverage from the day after the accident.
Finally, thank you for thinking of us. I truly believe in the power of positive energy and though nothing can bring Paul back, being surrounded by such an incredibly supportive group will help us to heal.
If you did not know Paul, I am sorry you never got the chance. Your life would have been richer for it. Even if you did know him in one capacity or another, chances are you would be surprised at what a polymath he was.
The following are articles about and tributes to Paul. Please honour him by having a read.
CBC.ca
Grainews
Working From Home Today
Winnipeg Free Press
His obit and a lot of the columns he wrote
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