Travel.

      Earl and I are going to Montreal.  This is quite exciting for us, as:

A)  We have never gone on a trip together in our 3.5 yrs together AND

B)  The trip is a 40th birthday gift from my wonderful Mom and Dad. 

I was told in December that I was receiving this gift, and it has taken us this long to figure out where we wanted to go - I think in part because it's so fun to consider options.  We ran through a number of these, including New Orleans for the Jazz Festival (too expensive); San Francisco (too far); New York (too fancy); and the Ptbo Otonabee Best Western (too sad, really).  I'm really looking forward to Montreal this spring!  I'm sure I'll blog about it when we get back.

The most magical sight to a 6 yr old.

     I've been lucky enough to do some pretty great travelling in my life.  That's not to say that I'm one of those "spent six months in Paris, lived on a beach in Thailand for a winter" kind of people, but my parents love travel, and thought it was an important experience to share with and give to their daughters. My first plane trip was to Florida.  My Nana and Papa had a winter place in Vero Beach, and every two years from the time I was about 6 until I was in my mid-teens we would travel to visit them over March Break.  These trips were almost always in combination with visits to the Orlando area, particularly Disney World.  My Mom tells the story of little me getting off the plane in Florida, being excited we were in the 'nited States so I could say 'zee' instead of 'zed'.  (The lack of perfect rhyme at the conclusion of the 'ABCs' song when sung with the Canadian pronunciation really threw me off, apparently.)  

Heidelberg, Germany
(first trip overseas, age 16)

     When I was in Grade 10, I took German as one of my electives.  I can't remember why - I think it might have been offered in the same block as phys-Ed.  I'm not very good at languages, but I'm really horrible at phys-ed.  Anyway, a year later in French class I noticed one of the girls was writing to a pen-pal (okay - I'm totally dating myself here because she didn't have a pen-pal as an ironic thing, this was in an era where people wrote real letters).  I asked her to ask her pen-pal, who lived in Germany, to hook me up with my own German friend.  She did, and I met Susannah through letters, and when I told her I wished I was better at speaking German, she invited me to come over to stay with her family for a month in exchange for letting her stay with mine for the following month.  That's more or less how I got to go to Germany. 

Sydney, Australia
(Sis and I went together, age 17)

      The year after I got the German pen-pal, my family had an Australian exchange student, Tatia, stay with us through Rotary International.  Some of her family even came over and celebrated Christmas with my family (I say 'some' because she had, like, a million brothers and sisters.  They were kind-of like the Australian Mormon Duggars), and for Christmas that year Sis and I were given the gift of flights and spending money to go and stay with Tatia's family for a month.  Australia was awesome.  The flight wasn't.  Neither was the fact that one of my strongest lingering memories of the trip is of Sis slowly and systematically convincing me that I have a huge nose.  I don't, really, but she played with my head on that trip.  I'd like to go back one day, but there are also so many other places I'd like to go.

The Baths on Virgin Gorda, BVI
(family trip, early 20s)

     I've travelled to the Caribbean twice with my family; the first was a trip to Aruba with my immediate family (Sis, Mamacita, Mom and Dad) when I was about 20.  It was my first experience with an all-inclusive resort.  I remember spending New Year,s sitting at the bar with Sis (who was underage in Canada) eating ice cream (because we could) and drinking some kind of alcohol that the bartender, whose name escapes me but I bet she remembers, kept serving us.  (In case you read yesterday's blog and are intrigued by my ability to remember when I was wearing on a given occasion, the answer is a black tank top and hideous multi-colour flowy overalls.  The print was modernist fruit slices.  God. The early 90s were worse than the 80s.)  The second Caribbean trip was to the BVIs and included the usual family cast, along with Sis' now-husband who I shall call... Mark, my former fiancee (that's another post entirely), and Mamacita's trashy friend who I'll call Amber.  We rented a beautiful 50 ft yacht and cruised the various islands.  It was an amazing trip - one of my favourite ever.  I snorkled with sea turtles and ate in beach shacks and lived on a fancy boat.  So sweet.

Never thoght I'd love the desert, but
Utah is amazing!
(several school trips, early 30s)

      I've also been lucky enough to travel around North and Central America on a variety of trips footed by schools for which I've worked.  I've taken students to BC skiing (I don't really ski myself, but really wanted to see the mountains so proposed the trip and it got approved.  In order to say I had done so however, I did make a day of the bunny hill at both Kicking Horse and Fernie.); Utah mountain biking and rappelling (both of which I actually do enjoy doing); and Costa Rica on a multi-sport adventure. The Utah trips were actually cross-US roadtrips (I count in my list of achievements having piloted a GMC Savannah (15 passenger) full of teenagers 10,000km back and forth across the US 3 times without incident.  Unless you count one flat tire in Iowa.)  On these trips some other highlights included the Grand Canyon, Four Corners, the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma, the Chicago Aquarium, skiing at Vail, and travelling to Roswell, NM.  So random, and so fun - even with teenagers as your travel companions.  Actually, sometimes that made it more fun.

Costa Rica
(another school trip, early 30s)

     The other school trip I loved was a multi-sport adventure in Costa Rica.  We camped and rafted on a river, stayed in hammocks on a hippie commune so remote one could only get there by sea kayaking or hiking in, visited volcanoes and sloth sanctuaries and nature preserves and incredible beaches.  That's somewhere I MUST return to without students.  Too many chances for them to get in trouble for me to fully enjoy myself the first time!  Combined with the fact that George Bush declared war on Iraq WHILE we were in Costa Rica - with return flights through Atlanta - which I had to learn by reading the lips of the CNN anchors behind the Spanish overdub in one of the hostels in which we stayed - I was a bit of a nervous wreck on that trip but enjoyed it all the same.

     These are all of the major travel destinations I've visited.  I know I'm lucky.  I know some are luckier than me.  I know that currently I use the internet, my parents' experiences (they're off somewhere new all the time.  Next month?  Cambodia and Vietnam.  They're an incredible couple, my folks!), travel literature and The Amazing Race to satiate any desire for global travel, and that one day I might visit the places I dream of - and I might not.  But right now I can't wait to plan a fabulous Montreal trip with Earl, and share the incredible experience of travel with him for the first time.

Time.

     I am the biggest procrastinator.  If left to my own devices, I can find a hundred quick and easy ways to kill an afternoon, generally without leaving the house.  Some of my favourite ways to "kill time" include the following: reading books (for the past few months I have not been able to get enough of the detective/mystery genre); watching back episodes of reality TV shows like Amazing Race and Top Chef; puttering around on the internet (okay, I'll admit it, really just Twitter, with an odd visit to various job sites and the Kijiji free list); baking (I should qualify this too - recently I found a great recipe for peanut butter cookies on the back of a jar of Jif, and now Earl and I have become 'cookie snobs', refusing to buy store-bought, and since we eat about half a batch at once, I could make cookies every day.  And since I bought bananas - which Earl hates - and let half of them go brown, I need to learn how to make muffins too before the bananas completely rot!); talking to my sister, Mamacita, via text while she's at work; talking to my Mom on the phone (while my Nana was sick recently I spoke to my Mom every day, and I feel a bit of withdrawal having not spoken to her in about 48 hours); petting my cat Turkey (which I could literally do for hours, and I think he'd be okay with that too!); listening to music (which, since our only method of playing music is vinyl, is a far more interactive activity than you might think - always switching sides and tidying inserts and finding the right sleeves, etc.); and tidying (not cleaning - I don't like that so much - but I do love to tidy.  On Saturday while Earl was in the city I spent the day catching up on Top Chef and folding every article of clothing in the house.  For fun.).

How could you NOT want to snuggle
with this kitty all day?

At least I don't play Smurf Village on my iPhone anymore.

     And then I realize how much time has passed, and I get freaked out because there are always things I should be doing instead.  Serious job searching like making calls and connections and doing research; doing work for my new course (none of my classmates have posted our first real assignment yet, so I think I'm in good company here, although I believe the rest of them are gainfully employed!); doing more to promote Earl's artwork and find him new audiences and apply to upcoming shows; actually cleaning the house and doing dishes instead of just doing the jobs I like, like laundry - and tidying; and exercising (I know - to some people this is a procrastinatory activity, but since I don't like it, I put it in the 'things I feel guilty about NOT spending my time doing' category).  I'm sure there are more things to go  on that list, but I think I've blocked them in an attempt to preserve my sanity.

Wouldn't YOU rather listen to, and
tidy up, these records rather than
write a cover letter for a job you're
sure you won't get?

     And so, I procrastinate, and then something happens and I get sick or don't sleep well or someone drops by and the "later" time in which I had planned to get something done disappears.  And then I'm screwed.

     Time is a funny thing.  Sometimes we have too much, or it goes too slowly (think waiting rooms, time spent in transit or lines, waiting for a delicious-smelling dinner to be ready, or that horrible 2-3am "I'm the only one awake in the world" time).  Sometimes it totally flies (time spent with friends, or while racing to meet a deadline, or on Twitter).  I realized today that Earl and I have now been living in Peterborough for six months.  I feel like we just got here, but at the same time, I feel like we've been here forever.  It was totally bizarre to me to realize when my old friend got in touch earlier this week that it had literally been 20 years since we last spoke.  We weren't even 20 years old at that time!  It's been a whole lifetime since I spoke to her, but remember time we spent together so clearly.  One memory in particular - Grade 11, skipping class (which I can honestly say we did not do very often, in fact I think we only did it this once and we definitely got caught), we went to the grocery store (I think it was the first time I'd gone to the grocery store without my Mom and I felt QUITE grown up) to buy licorice and green grapes and chocolate Hagen Daaz and we took them to the park and sat on the big old steps and smoked cigarettes, ate, and wondered what one did with oneself when one skipped school.  (Now you know what a loser I was in high school.)  How can I remember this so well?  (I even remember what I was wearing, which would not surprise my family as it's a bit of a weird thing I do - they name the event, I can tell you what I wore.  First day of grade 9? Faded skinny jeans (not cool ones like today, but high-waisted with no back pockets), pink, purple and turquoise plaid shirt with a long shirttail, Bass Weejuns.  Nanny's funeral?  Black v-neck sweater, pinstriped pencil skirt in black and charcoal, high-heeled patent leather Mary-janes.  Day my niece TT was born?  Brown hooded sweater, khakis, brown, blue and orange striped socks with a hole in one toe, slip-on Merrill approach shoes.  The day my friend and I skipped school?  Black tights with rips OVER which I wore white lace tights with rips, a short grey and black circle skirt with crinoline, black t-shirt, black slouchy socks, Doc Martin 8-hole boots with green daisy laces.)          

So many books, so little time.

     They say the older you get, the faster time goes.  This is scary, and true.  Afternoons are lifetimes as children.  Weeks are seconds as adults.  How does this work?  And what must it be like to be 80, if time is moving so fast for me at 40?

     Oh shit - I just realized I have to wake Earl up from his nap and drive him to an appointment, come back, shower, and get to a meeting myself.  Gotta run.  Where DOES the time go?

School.

     Today I am going back to school.  I'm not literally going anywhere, as I'm sitting here in my jammies in front of the computer, but today I am starting a new online Additional Qualification  course for teachers in the area of Special Education.  Anyone who's been following might remember a few weeks ago I was debating what I wanted to be when I grow up (see Jan 17th's post titled Jobs.).  I continue to meet with employment counsellors to see if teaching is maybe not the only thing I'm good at, but I do know I love teaching so want to maintain and upgrade those skills in my time away from the profession.  I also really love school, so the chance to go back, even online, is really exciting for me.

My $150 investment...

     

     So last week, because I'm a keener, I went out to buy the textbook.  A bit shocked to see the $150 price tag, but a justifiable expense, nonetheless. I suppose. I tried not to let it daunt me, or make a loud gasping noise when I saw the price at any rate.  Then today I woke up early (who doesn't, on the first day of school?), did NOT have to think about what I would wear (they should list this in the benefits of online education), and sat down at the computer.  I got logged in, but the command I was instructed to look for did not appear on my screen.  A quick call to the IT department determined that I was a special case. (SIDE NOTE: I have noticed that I frequently AM a special case in matters like these.  One time, at my first teaching job, the marks program kept refusing to accept my name as a login.  It even baffled the IT director and office manager.  Turns out my last name, which I choose not to share with you at this point, even though most of my readers know who I am and are related to me, is a computer-related word and was not an acceptable login due to its implications.  I had to go with 'Smith' instead.) The 'specialness' in today's case was due to the fact that I was RE-enrolling at Trent (after graduating in 1996!) and that made me 'complicated'.  Now, I've been called 'complicated' before, but not for this reason.  In 1993, when I first enrolled at Trent, there was barely intenet let alone online course delivery, so I'm not sure what the difficulty was, but regardless, they told me to try again in an hour and an hour later it worked.  I was logged in and ready to begin!

     If you haven't taken an online course before (this is my second), they are generally set up in weekly modules - a certain amount of work to be done over the course of the week to allow for flexibility.  Module 1 for my new course consists of an introduction, commenting on someone else's introduction, and completing a web-based search for information.  I've finished the first two parts, and am excited to work on the third, but I need to pace myself - don't want to be seen as "the keener" because even adults don't appreciate that trait in classmates - at least, I don't.  So the web search will happen tomorrow.

This is me in Grade 9, baby!

     All of this has me hearkening back to my earlier school days.  Recently I was looking at old yearbooks with Havoc and Maman, our next-door friends, who are about 15 years younger than I am.  They were laughing at the 1985ness of it all, but it reminded me of who I am as a student, after thinking of myself as a teacher for so long.  (I think teachers make the WORST students.  We're used to being listened to, rather than listening.  This is what makes most PD so painful.)  And interestingly, I got a Linkedin message just this morning from the girl who was my best friend in the universe from grades 9-11, and who I have not heard from in literally 20 years.  I'm glad to know she's not a heroin-addicted prostitute, which is what I worried she'd become after our last visit in 1991.  Instead she's a bookkeeper.  People can sure surprise you!

     ANYWAY, I'm pretty excited about this new course.  I'm going to continue to pursue teaching as an area of employment, along with surveying the rest of my options with my employment counsellor, to 'keep my options open', but in the meantime, I'm hittin' the books - or, errr, the web?  Hope we get to use the textbook enough to validate its $150 price tag!  Now leave me alone.  I'm doing homework.

 

Mortality.

     Today's post is, I suppose, a bit more serious than the last few.  (As much as I love shoes, I also have a deeper side...)  Today I'm thinking about mortality - not mine, necessarily, but mortality in general.  There are, as always, a few reasons as to why I'm thinking about this topic today.  I have received some sad news in the last little while.  One piece of news is that my Nana is in hospital, and while she is stable, it's still scary to know someone you love (even one who might frustrate you sometimes) is hurting and scared.  Her husband, my Papa, is also living with cancer and although he is doing fairly well, 'fairly well' is a relative term when it comes to lung cancer.

     I also learned yesterday that my parents' friends' 17 year old grandson was killed yesterday in a car accident.  He and some buddies were cruising around after finishing their final exams and ran a stop sign and he was killed instantly.  I don't know the details, but assume there might have been alcohol or drugs involved in the post-exam celebration.  As a high school teacher, I often woke up fearful (especially post-exams and post-last day of school) that one of my students had made a poor choice the night before resulting in death.  It has happened to me only once - one of my grade 11 students was killed in a car accident the night his hockey team won provincial finals.  His empty chair in my classroom the next morning has haunted me since.

My "GG" - Ethel Mae 

     I've been quite lucky in my life.  I have lost very few of the people close to me.  My GG (short for great-grandmother) was the first of my older relatives to pass on.  She died at the age of 91 in 1999, when I was in my late 20s.  I was sad to lose her, but it was not unexpected.  My real sadness came in the fact that I couldn't attend her funeral as I was living on the east coast and was scheduled to be moving home a few days later and it didn't make sense to pay to change the ticket.  GG was quite a character, and she lived a long, full life.  She is remembered by me for her collection of Red Rose figurines, her candy dish, the smell of her apartment, her nanaimo bars, her hatred of photos (the one at left is the only one I have), and her pride in her appearance.  GG wore a wig, but I only saw her once without it, and even when she moved into the nursing home, she always wore a blouse and skirt (with a hankie tucked up the sleeve of her blouse).

My Nanny - Hannah Jean

     My Nanny was the next to go.  She passed away on December 22, 2007 after a series of illnesses that left her physically and mentally frustrated.  Her death definitely had a greater impact on me, as my Nanny and I had had a very special relationship.  I was her first grandchild, and she loved me best (my sisters and cousins might dispute that, but Nanny and I know it's true).  In preparation for this post I went back through old emails and found a series of memories my middle sister (Sis) and I shared back and forth when Nanny died.  Here are some of my favourites:

• Making chocolate chip cookies (and being allowed to make a super giant “big Fred” cookie with the last remaining batter)
• Drying our hair by the vent on the kitchen floor so we wouldn’t go to bed with wet hair
• Playing dress-up with the old clothes in the attic
• Using the grinder to make homemade breadcrumbs
• Planting and picking pansies in her backyard garden
• Listening to Nanny ask if everyone had a drink and if the potatoes were on as she was on the stretcher going into to heart surgery
• Nanny arriving to the hospital with pink bunny ears on the day her 1^st  great grandchild was born
• spinning in the chair in her back room 'til we wanted to throw up
• Nanny teaching me to use her sewing machine so I could taper my jeans to within an inch of their lives 
• watching her take out her teeth to brush them, and the toothpaste roller in her bathroom
• Nanny giving backrubs and falling asleep at the foot of one of our beds when she was waiting for US to fall asleep
• sitting on the front porch in the summer
• the way she'd always pour the apple juice from the tin into a pitcher
• the way her basement smelled

I miss my Nanny, but know she is in a better place than she was in her last months on earth.   She is now with her god, and both of the husbands she lost while she was alive, and I believe she has been able to resume both the physical and mental strength that had abandoned her towards the end.  I know we'll meet again. 

Me and my friend David

  

     The first time I lost someone who wasn't an aging relative I was in my early 30s.  I was teaching in Muskoka and was very good friends with one of my co-workers, an incredibly smart and funny man named David.  David and I were both single, but never dated (he was too short for me and my ass was too small for his liking, we'd joke).  Working at a small boarding school in a rural environment meant that we didn't have a lot of social outlets, but we spent many evenings and weekend afternoons hanging out, debating politics and books, drinkin' and smokin' and debriefin' from our crazy jobs, and talking about the love of his life - his sailboat - and all of the wonderful trips during which he had sailed her.  One spring, upon return from a March Break trip to Cuba, David was complaining that his liver hurt.  He chalked it up to the amount of rum he'd drunk while he was away, but went to get it checked anyway.  He very quickly learned that he had secondary liver cancer (he actually learned this news the same day as the funeral for the student I referred to in the first paragraph), and the doctors couldn't find the primary source, making treatment very difficult.  David lived through that summer, but died just as it was turning to fall.  Here is the email I sent to notify my friends and family of his passing:

Most of you knew, or at least had heard of, my friend David.
David died this morning.  It was not unexpected, as he's been battling cancer and of late the cancer was winning.
I am trying not to fall apart over the loss of my best friend.  
Last week he was really scared and struggling with how he wanted to spend his remaining time - taking the drugs that might keep him alive, or enjoying the time he had left.  When I asked David what he wanted to do, he replied "I want to get on my boat and sail away". 
I wish you great winds, clear skies, and happy sails, David.  I love you.

David's sailboat on
Georgian Bay

David was my first friend to die.  He was a bit older than me, but not so much so that I did not feel the echo of my own mortality.  This was fascinating for me.  I was facing the fact that not only did old people die, but young people did too, and tragically, and millions of lives were affected daily by death and yet the world just keeps on spinning.  I would die, my sisters would die, my parents (gasp!) would die, and everyone I knew and loved and didn't love would one day die.  An obvious statement, I know, and one that many people realize when they are much younger than I was, but I think this recognition of mortality is one of the things that make us "grow up" - regardless of when it happens.

     So I didn't intend to bum anyone out today (that is, if anyone is still reading - I know this post is a long one), but this is what I was thinking about and I wanted to share my thoughts.  So to GG and Nanny and David - I miss and love you and you're always in my thoughts. To my Nana and Papa - take good care, be strong, and know you're surrounded by those who love you. And to John and Heather who lost their grandson this week and to anyone else who has lost someone recently or has a critically ill friend or family member - my heart is with you.

Shoes.

I wanna be a cowgirl...

     Today's post is about shoes.  Not for any real reason, other than the fact that, like many females, I have a thing about shoes.  What got me thinking about this topic is actually the very changeable weather we're having this winter.  Every day when I'm getting dressed, I start with the shoes (that is not to say that I put them on first, as that would make getting dressed very awkward).  I look outside, check the weather, think about what I have to do that day and what method of transportation I need to use to get there, and make my shoe decision first.  That then determines what type of pants I'll be wearing, which in turn assists me in choosing what I will wear on my upper body.  An example goes something like this:


Earl: What do you want to do today?

"The big guns"

Me: Why don't we walk downtown and do some errands - maybe head to the library as well?
Earl:  Great!  (Earl heads to the bedroom to get dressed.  He emerges 25 seconds later, fully dressed.  If it's cold/snowing he wears boots.  If it's not he wears slip-ons.  Simple.)
Me: (in my head) Okay, so it snowed last night but not a lot, so I need something slightly practical on my feet, but don't need to pull out the big guns - they're hard to walk in for longer distances.  I need something with traction, but it's not too wet so I don't need waterproof.  Maybe one of my pairs of cowboy boots?  What pants do I want to wear?  It's not cold enough to require long johns, so I can get away with skinny jeans - they work well with cowboy boots.  And then I need a longer sweater to hide my muffin top.  Okay, I think I can start to get dressed now.
Earl:  It's been five minutes and you're still wearing trackpants.  Are we going downtown or what?

I'm a really big fan of
boots, as you can see.

     My love of shoes can be seen as soon as you walk in our door.  We have a six-shelf bookshelf devoted to shoes.  One and a half shelves contain Earl's shoes and boots.  The rest are full of my shoes, some of which are double-piled, and my "fancy" shoes aren't even kept there - they're stored in shoe boxes in the closet.  (To be fair, Earl's one pair of dress shoes are also stored in the closet.)  But it's important to have a lot of shoes - every occasion calls for something different, in terms of both style and practicality.  Like most people, I have shoe categories.  I'll try to keep this simple for you.

Lazy shoes - not good for walking,
but as comfortable as slippers.

Summer shoes: In the summer I really hate wearing shoes, so try to get away with as little as possible.  Flip-flops are a favourite, but they're not good for walking long distances.  For that I have Birkenstocks, or Mary-jane crocs - not overly stylish, but very comfortable.  If I need some summer style, it's all about ballet flats, but they stink after a while, so if the shoes need to come off at my eventual destination, it's back to the Mary-jane crocs (what DO they put in the plastic to make them not stink?  It's amazing.)


Lazy shoes: These shoes are totally comfortable and require little effort in terms of putting them on, can be worn for long periods of time, but are a bit sloppy and not very "pulled together", and don't provide any foot support so aren't great for walking.  They include moccasins, UGGs (don't judge me but I have 4 pairs - okay, judge me.), and most slip-ons.

This is about as sporty
as I get.

Practical shoes: This is a fairly broad category, and encompasses shoes worn for a particular purpose.  In this category I include running shoes (I use the term loosely - I don't actually have any shoes I could 'go running' in.  That's because I don't like running.) which I should really call 'shoes verging on sporty' - Converse hi-tops, Vans, and an old pair of court shoes I used when I used to coach volleyball at my first teaching job. I also include rainboots, winter boots and hiking shoes in this group.


Work shoes:  I almost forgot this category, because I haven't had to wear them recently.  As a teacher, one is always running around, standing for long periods of time, and yet needs to look nice and pulled-together.  And we all know teenagers judge harshly, so there needs to be some semblance of fashionability as well.  My work shoes include ballet flats for warm weather, and generally low-heeled boots for cooler weather, with a few pairs of low-heeled shoes for the rare skirt or dress-wearing occasion.

My favourite fancy shoes
(rarely worn but loved nonetheless)

Fancy shoes:  I never get dressed up, and I'm not overly girly, but nonetheless I love fancy shoes.  And I have more of them than I will ever need.  (Actually, I recently donated a few pairs to a local thrift store, because I feel badly they never get worn and these type of shoes have a bit of time-sensitivity - I believe dress shoe styles come in and out of fashion faster than most other types of shoes.)  Fancy boots also fall into this category.


     Now, with all of these shoes, you must think I spend a ridiculous amount of money in shoe stores.  I don't.  (Primarily because I don't HAVE a ridiculous amount of money.)  I am blessed/cursed with the most average foot size a woman can have.  This means that often shoe stores are sold out of my size, but I am very lucky in my ability to find second-hand shoes and boots in my size.  The cowboy boots at the top of this post were purchased for $4 in a thrift store - perfectly worked in and comfortable, but still with lots of life left in them.  I also tend to ask for shoes/boots for Christmas and my birthday ("the big guns" were this year's birthday gift).  As well, I find having lots of shoes means extended life for those shoes, as they don't get worn out very quickly.  I still have shoes I bought 15 years ago (Birkenstocks never go out of style, right?).


     I'd love to know if others go through this intense morning pressure - please share your thoughts on shoes and your relationship with them in the comments.  Now I'd better get going - I have to go out in two hours and haven't yet decided on my footwear for today...  

Animals.

This is Josie!

     This morning, and every Wednesday morning, I head up the road to Lakefield to volunteer at the Lakefield Animal Welfare Society.  From 8ish until 11ish I clean kitty condos, empty litterboxes, re-make kitty beds, clean floors, dole out dry and wet food and fresh water, and generally surround myself with kitty love for a few hours.  Teams of three or four people do this every morning - not for pay, but for the love of animals.  

And here's Julian!
Good luck in your new
 home, old buddy.

     Some days we finish quickly and have enough time to actually play with the cats - particularly the kittens.  There's nothing like having a tiny kitten purring against your chest, or playing with your hair.  One of my kitty-friends, Josie, likes to jump on your back when you bend over to pick things up off the floor.  Another friend, Audi, is almost too big to hold but he still loves to be picked up and cuddled.  Today when I went in I looked for big Julian - a huge, white, fluffy cat who had lost the tips of his ears and tail to frostbite, and a favourite of the volunteers - to find he'd found a forever home since last week.  I was sad, but so glad for him!


     I have always had pets.  When I was about 6 we got our first cat - Tippy (so named either for the way she walked on her tippy-toes, or because she had rings on the tip of her tail - it depends who you ask).  Tippy lived with us until I was in my late teens, at which point she got sick and we had to put her to sleep.  Tippy was replaced by Buddy, a grey tabby, and then Penny was added to the menagerie - our first ginger kitty.  Penny was so small and young when we got him that we couldn't tell if he was male or female, and he had to be lifted into and out of the litterbox because he was too little to get in himself.  Then when Buddy ran away, we got Toby to keep Penny company.  Toby was such a slug that he would allow himself to be carried in the pocket of a bathrobe, or draped around one's shoulders.  Unfortunately Toby was not well and he only lived for a few years.  Penny, on the other hand, lived to the ripe old age of 18, and only passed away a year ago last fall.  By that point, Penny had become my cat and he lived with Earl and I in our 14th floor apartment in Toronto - quite a change from his earlier years as King of the Hunt when we lived in Muskoka!  

The incredibly handsome (and well-loved)
Turkey and Monkey.

  When we lost Penny, Earl and I knew we wouldn't be long without a new kitty friend or two - the house was just too empty.  We began searching, and within a week we found the perfect pair - twin brothers who were rescued from a house overrun by cats in Kitchener.  They were 8 weeks old, and the most beautiful and friendly little things we'd ever seen.  They were not the first cats we met on our search, but after we met them we knew they needed to come home with us.  We named them Monkey and Turkey, and they are the loves of our lives.  Monkey is thin, anxious, smart, and ever-alert.  He prefers whatever we're eating to his cat food, and rarely sleeps for more than an hour at a time.  He is Earl's special buddy.  Turkey likes to snuggle, sleep and eat.  He has a roly-poly belly and the softest fur I've ever felt.  He's my special friend.

This is not Colby, but looks just like he
did as a puppy.  Awwwwww...

Cats are not the only pets I've had, but they obviously have a special place in my heart.  I have also had fish (too many to name), hamsters (one of whom gave birth to several more the day after I got her for Christmas!), rats (which are almost as nice as cats, which I know might be disputed by some, but they're smart and develop their own personalities) and mice.  I've never had a dog, unless you count Max, a bassett hound my Mom and Dad got when I was little and Mom was pregnant with my sister.  I guess paper-training a puppy, potty-training a child and being preggers was too much for my poor Mom, because she told my Dad one of those things had to go.  I guess I'm glad she chose Max...
     Now I have a nephew-dog, Colby, who belongs to Mamacita and OPPete (my sister and brother-in-law).  He's a golden retriever, and he's lovely.  Sometimes I find dogs too stinky and licky, but I do love my nephew-dog, even when he's just gotten out of the water and does his shaky-dance.


     It's not surprising that people love animals - they give us unconditional love, listen to our woes, and keep us company.  I'm not too proud to admit I've cried into Turkey's soft belly and he puts up with it.  He is the best snuggler I know, and my favourite way to wake up is to look over and see his little face and big eyes peering over the side of the bed.  When he sees I'm awake he jumps right up and gets cozy with me and purrs and I can pet his belly while I transition into being awake.
     Recently at a family dinner someone asked the question "If you could be any animal which would you be and why?".  I answered I'd like to be Turkey so I could spend all day sleeping and eating.  Turned out, this was a question asked at a recent job interview - I'm not sure my answer would have gotten me the job!  But it is interesting to see the difference between cat people and dog people... the animals to which we're most attracted inevitably say something about our personalities.  Not loving animals says something too, but I don't want to offend anyone (particularly my Dad, who would happily live his life without pets but fortunately loved his kids enough to put up with the menagerie).
     So to all of the animals in my life - present, past and future - thanks for making my life better by being a part of it.  Today's post is in your honour.  (And now for a shameless plug - if you live in the Ptbo area, consider making a trip to the Lakefield Animal Welfare Society - there are many cats, kittens and dogs looking for homes, and LAWS can always use volunteers!  Check out their website here:http://www.lakefieldanimalwelfare.org/ )

Weekends.

     I feel badly that I haven't posted since Thursday, so I thought I'd justify my lack of blogging by talking about how I spent my weekend.  (Even unemployed people know when it's the weekend!)  Also, to make it up to the 4 or 5 people who read my blog, I'm trying to redeem myself by making my posts more exciting - guess who learned to import images?

     It's been a very exciting last few days.  Friday brought some great news for Earl; we stopped by the Art Gallery of Peterborough to drop off a few of his pieces that have been accepted for display in their upcoming Triennial exhibition, and we learned that one of his pieces, Pour Man (shown on the left) has been chosen as the promotional image for the show! (Check out http://www.agp.on.ca/future.php)  This was very cool to learn, as it's Earl's first show.  He was a bit overwhelmed, and I loved seeing him so proud of himself.  Then we got a chance to meet the curator of the gallery as well, Carla Garnet, and that was a real treat.  
     From there we came home to wait to hear whether or not Earl had been accepted into a second juried show, this one happening at a gallery in Midland.  We had learned earlier in the day that someone else who had entered had not been accepted and had been notified via email but Earl had yet to hear anything by mid-afternoon.  You know when you're waiting for news, and every moment is endless?  We tried to watch Cocktail but Earl's attention was quite split as he kept looking at his inbox to see if he'd been notified.  Finally, just before 5pm, knowing that's when the gallery closed and knowing we couldn't wait all weekend for news, I finally put on my Earl-wranglin' hat and called the gallery to see if he'd made it.  
     Aaaaaaand he did!  Both of the pieces he entered were accepted!  This was super-exciting news, as only 37 pieces out of the nearly 200 submitted were accepted.  Earl breaks into a new market!  We celebrated by ordering pizza, and then all of the nerves, anxiety, excitement and exhilaration of the day caught up to us and we called it an early night.


     Saturday started with a trip to the Farmer's Market, and then we headed to Oshawa to visit Earl's grandparents.  We spent a full day with them, and came home sleepy - no blogging for me.


     Sunday dawned, and we wanted to do something special to celebrate Earl's acceptances and budding art career.  We decided to head to the McMichael Gallery in Kleinburg to see their Group of Seven collection.  As it turned out, they were also having an exhibit on Norval Morriseau and Woodland artists - another house favourite - so it was a great time to go.  I especially liked the Shaman and Disciple piece shown on the right.  The coolest part of the visit for me was seeing Tom Thompson's shack.  He lived in this shack in a Toronto ravine during the winters when he was not in Algonquin Park and it has since been moved onto the McMichael grounds.  It really is the coolest place - everything one would need to be cozy and make art through a cold winter.  It really captivated me.  A woodstove for cooking and warmth, a tiny desk and bed set up in a loft above, a big table and lots of natural light - I wanted to move in!

     When we finally got home again on Sunday night, dinner consisted of the leftover pizza from Friday and another early night.  Earl suggested I blog while he slept, but the urge to sleep myself was too great, so I have failed in my attempt to write five times a week, but I'm sticking with it, and I thank those of you who are sticking with the reading of it!  I hope it keeps getting better... and I really appreciate your comments!
     

     So that was my weekend.  How was yours?  Just before I sign off for today, I've had some news I've been DYING to share for a few weeks but didn't get the go-ahead until today, so I can finally go public with he news that my baby sister is preggers!  (She's not really a baby, in fact, she's nearly 30, but she's the first person I know who I held as a newborn who is now having a baby of her own.)  Congratulations to my Baby Boo, known from now on as Mamacita! Congratulations should also go out to OPPete and Colby-dog.  Good luck putting up with her while she's expecting!  
     Stay tuned for updates on this one, as I'm a super-proud auntie-to-be!  The new babe will join my nieces T and C in a very special spot in my heart. Can't wait for July 20.  I love you already, little one.  Can't wait to meet you!