Today is my last day in the office before Christmas, and I'm quite excited to catch my flight at 5:30pm today. Although am quite nervous about the forecasted freezing rain that's due around my take-off time....if my plane is grounded, I will be very upset!!
Anyway, at the office, things are rather mellow and festive. My colleague brought in some homemade Bailey's and cookies, someone else brewed a big pot of coffee, and we all got giddy with caffeine and booze before the clock had even chimed 9am....I love the festive season around the office, haha! Now for those who know me, know that I am not a coffee drinker, so after two big cups of coffee with a titch of Bailey's in it, I was soon jittery, inattentive and headachey. But that's passed and now I'm simply hungry, as it's nearly noon (can't believe how fast the day is flying considering I'm not doing much, except blogging!).
Mark has the day off today and was kind enough to drive me to work this morning with my relatively heavy and awkward suitcases. Later today he's driving home to Innerkip, a lonely (without me) long drive. As a surprise, when I got out of the car this morning, I left an early Christmas gift on the front seat for him, with the instruction not to open until his has left for Innerkip (it's the Pink Floyd CD he wanted). I figure he'll have a more enjoyable ride with some awesome tunes!! (I trust he isn't going to read our blog before he leaves today...especially since he never reads it unless I ask him to).
I hope he's emptied the garbage in the kitchen before he leaves.....
Friday, December 22, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Mega beef
Most days at work, I try to step outdoors to get a breath of fresh air and to escape my little office space where I have no sense of the day passing. These moments outdoors are intended to be refreshing and invigorating. So it really chaps my hiney when I exit onto Sparks street, take a breath of "fresh" air and choke on cigarette smoke. For the length of the block, I cannot breath for the stench of ciggie smoke. I find this is frequently the case when walking down any old office block, not just Sparks Street. I gotta say, my tolerance for cigarette smoke is down to nil, and I really resent the smokers who stand huddled like a flock of pigeons right next to the entrances, blatantly ignoring the "Do not smoke within 3 metres of the building" signs. So their smoke wafts right into the entrance of the building, so you actually choke on the smoke before you even exit the building.....lovely....
And that's my beef for the day.....
And that's my beef for the day.....
Sunday, December 10, 2006
She rules - as if there was ever any doubt!!
This blog seems to be more "she said" than "he said". I guess that means I control the blog!!! Mwuh-hahahah!!!!
*sigh*
*sigh*
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
The man who wouldn't sleep
Tonight, we had a killer workout at our boxing class, probably the hardest we've ever done. Fourteen "Rounds of Joy" as our coach sadistically calls it. We had seven 3 minute rounds on the heavy bag, speed bag, skipping and shadow boxing, and in between each round, we had a 3 minute punch out, where you punch your guts out on a heavy bag till you think you're either going to pass out or puke. It's such a good workout! Tough, but completely satisfying! I bet I lost 10 pounds in sweat alone tonight.
We were excited to get to class tonight because our boxing coaches posted on their website yesterday a story we wrote about our trip to Africa [www.wbk.ca/b4bl.htm]. Our coaches generously donated skipping ropes for us to bring to Kenya last May to teach the kids about "boxing for better living", in this case skipping for better living; that is, the notion that physical activity empowers us, makes us stronger mentally, spiritually, and physically. The story included our video of me skipping with the kids, with the sound of cow bells in the background and the voices of the little kids counting their skips faintly audible. I think I watched the video over and over again about a dozen times. I hadn't watched it in months and I was fascinated to watch this memory, tucked ever so quietly in the back of my mind, come alive again. I smiled watching the little kids swing the oversized ropes around them, and the little girls laughing. And the cow bells ringing! I wonder how those little kids are doing - are they healthy? have they had something to eat? are they loved or are they alone?
Fittingly tonight, a documentary on Stephen Lewis was on CBC's The Nature of Things. We rushed home after boxing to catch it. We ate dinner while watching it, and I had difficulty swallowing my pork chop for the lump that stayed in my throat for the duration of the program. What he has done, his tenacity to pursue governments (African and others) and the UN to take action against AIDS, and to lend his voice to the women and grandmothers who are ignored by their governments.....he is incredible and he is a hero. I hope you caught the program; it was moving.
It was particularly interesting for Mark and I to watch the show, having been to a small community in Kenya. We closely interacted with the 800 kids of the school and with some of the parents, and were even guests in some families' homes. And yet, AIDS was never openly discussed among the community members. Even our group leader could not say for sure how prevalent AIDS was in the area because it carries such a stigma that people do not discuss it. But, she said, you do see evidence of it when children fall sick and stop coming to school. How many of those kids we taught were orphans? were being raised by their grandparents? On the show tonight, a family of 18 orphans spoke about their life, and in their faces and in their eyes, I saw the kids we played with and skipped with in Chemarut. And that really struck me.
What worries me - and Stephen Lewis said it himself - is what happens to these children, these AIDS orphans, in 10, 25, 40 years from now? With no parental role models, no or very little education, what outcome can they expect? what chance do they have to be successful? how will they contribute to society if they have few resources? How can so few governments and agencies take such atrociously slow action against this epidemic - have they not considered the future and will they not prepare for it?
Stephen Lewis' term with the UN ends in a few short weeks. I hope the UN listens to him when they consider his successor: a woman...an African woman.
And I didn't even get into his oratory skills. I envy his way with words.
We were excited to get to class tonight because our boxing coaches posted on their website yesterday a story we wrote about our trip to Africa [www.wbk.ca/b4bl.htm]. Our coaches generously donated skipping ropes for us to bring to Kenya last May to teach the kids about "boxing for better living", in this case skipping for better living; that is, the notion that physical activity empowers us, makes us stronger mentally, spiritually, and physically. The story included our video of me skipping with the kids, with the sound of cow bells in the background and the voices of the little kids counting their skips faintly audible. I think I watched the video over and over again about a dozen times. I hadn't watched it in months and I was fascinated to watch this memory, tucked ever so quietly in the back of my mind, come alive again. I smiled watching the little kids swing the oversized ropes around them, and the little girls laughing. And the cow bells ringing! I wonder how those little kids are doing - are they healthy? have they had something to eat? are they loved or are they alone?
Fittingly tonight, a documentary on Stephen Lewis was on CBC's The Nature of Things. We rushed home after boxing to catch it. We ate dinner while watching it, and I had difficulty swallowing my pork chop for the lump that stayed in my throat for the duration of the program. What he has done, his tenacity to pursue governments (African and others) and the UN to take action against AIDS, and to lend his voice to the women and grandmothers who are ignored by their governments.....he is incredible and he is a hero. I hope you caught the program; it was moving.
It was particularly interesting for Mark and I to watch the show, having been to a small community in Kenya. We closely interacted with the 800 kids of the school and with some of the parents, and were even guests in some families' homes. And yet, AIDS was never openly discussed among the community members. Even our group leader could not say for sure how prevalent AIDS was in the area because it carries such a stigma that people do not discuss it. But, she said, you do see evidence of it when children fall sick and stop coming to school. How many of those kids we taught were orphans? were being raised by their grandparents? On the show tonight, a family of 18 orphans spoke about their life, and in their faces and in their eyes, I saw the kids we played with and skipped with in Chemarut. And that really struck me.
What worries me - and Stephen Lewis said it himself - is what happens to these children, these AIDS orphans, in 10, 25, 40 years from now? With no parental role models, no or very little education, what outcome can they expect? what chance do they have to be successful? how will they contribute to society if they have few resources? How can so few governments and agencies take such atrociously slow action against this epidemic - have they not considered the future and will they not prepare for it?
Stephen Lewis' term with the UN ends in a few short weeks. I hope the UN listens to him when they consider his successor: a woman...an African woman.
And I didn't even get into his oratory skills. I envy his way with words.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
There's hope in the skies!
So last week, I took a little day trip to Toronto for work and flew with the new Porter airline. For anyone not familiar with Porter, it recently opened business at the Toronto City Centre airport and is geared toward the Ottawa-Toronto business commuter and with plans to expand.
It was luxury compared to what flying is now adays on your typically commercial flight. It was a small Bombardier jet with only 2 leather seats across. Despite the short flight, they served a small meal with real glasses!! And real food!! like yogurt & granola, cheese & crackers, chocolate, sandwiches on real whole grain bread, and free wine and beer!!! I was impressed. Bonus: no crying children or cranky airline attendants.
I am one of those people who misses meals even on Air Canada flights - I mean, sure it was kinda gross, but there was a certain standard of service and that standard is severely and sadly lacking now. Porter brings back that romance of flying, even in just a 60 minute flight.
It was luxury compared to what flying is now adays on your typically commercial flight. It was a small Bombardier jet with only 2 leather seats across. Despite the short flight, they served a small meal with real glasses!! And real food!! like yogurt & granola, cheese & crackers, chocolate, sandwiches on real whole grain bread, and free wine and beer!!! I was impressed. Bonus: no crying children or cranky airline attendants.
I am one of those people who misses meals even on Air Canada flights - I mean, sure it was kinda gross, but there was a certain standard of service and that standard is severely and sadly lacking now. Porter brings back that romance of flying, even in just a 60 minute flight.
Whiskey's diagnosis
It turns out Whiskey had feline distemper, which is fatal. Kittens are more susceptible to distemper, and Whiskey wasn't vaccinated against it. We felt a bit better knowing it wasn't anything we did, and that there was nothing we could have done.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
One of life's lessons
For me, writing is cathartic. And as much as I don't want to open this blog with sad stories, I am compelled to write about last week's most significant event because I just need to get it out.
Mark and I are foster parents for the Humane Society, and last week we took in our third cat. She was an 8 month old kitten named Whiskey, a little calico who's favorite place was curled up beside us on the couch. She was by far my favorite foster cat to date. We picked her up on a Thursday, and over the next three days, we gave her her prescribed meds for a cat cold. But a few days later, on Monday, she began vomiting. Constantly. We noticed she wasn't eating or drinking anymore and was becoming increasingly weak. We couldn't get her back to the Humane Society before it closed on Wednesday, so we were going to bring her in on Thursday a.m. Wednesday evening, she seemed okay, nothing alarming. But over the course of the night, she just kept getting worse, despite our efforts to hydrate her. By 1 a.m., it was obvious she wasn't going to survive.
Mark and I stayed up pretty much all night worrying over her. It was particularly upsetting when she rolled off the bed, and began to crawl underneath the bed. We knew that she was probably looking for a place to die. She was so pathetic, when she had only been so sweet and affectionate a few days before. She couldn't even walk, but only crawl. Her eyes were glazed, large, and unfocused. After her second attempt to crawl under the bed, Mark put her in a little box that we'd set out for her as a bed that had a blanket in it, and she stayed there until she died. For the next hour, her breathing went from shallow and rapid to deep and slow. Eventually, she started making funny noises. And eventually she vomited. By this time, I was kneeling by her and her chest wasn't moving up and down anymore but her heart was still beating, although barely. Her eyes were slowly fading, and I think she was already pretty much dead after she vomited. I think the most upsetting thing was watching her eyes change, and just knowing the moment when she was gone.
Mark and I have never experienced death before, and it is something really powerful and upsetting. It is amazing and very moving having watched Whiskey pass on. I'm sure the feelings are a lot like experiencing birth, too. I can't really explain it. It's a thing that is so much more powerful than us...I really can't explain it....I can't imagine how much more upsetting and moving it is when it's a human loved one.
Mark and I are foster parents for the Humane Society, and last week we took in our third cat. She was an 8 month old kitten named Whiskey, a little calico who's favorite place was curled up beside us on the couch. She was by far my favorite foster cat to date. We picked her up on a Thursday, and over the next three days, we gave her her prescribed meds for a cat cold. But a few days later, on Monday, she began vomiting. Constantly. We noticed she wasn't eating or drinking anymore and was becoming increasingly weak. We couldn't get her back to the Humane Society before it closed on Wednesday, so we were going to bring her in on Thursday a.m. Wednesday evening, she seemed okay, nothing alarming. But over the course of the night, she just kept getting worse, despite our efforts to hydrate her. By 1 a.m., it was obvious she wasn't going to survive.
Mark and I stayed up pretty much all night worrying over her. It was particularly upsetting when she rolled off the bed, and began to crawl underneath the bed. We knew that she was probably looking for a place to die. She was so pathetic, when she had only been so sweet and affectionate a few days before. She couldn't even walk, but only crawl. Her eyes were glazed, large, and unfocused. After her second attempt to crawl under the bed, Mark put her in a little box that we'd set out for her as a bed that had a blanket in it, and she stayed there until she died. For the next hour, her breathing went from shallow and rapid to deep and slow. Eventually, she started making funny noises. And eventually she vomited. By this time, I was kneeling by her and her chest wasn't moving up and down anymore but her heart was still beating, although barely. Her eyes were slowly fading, and I think she was already pretty much dead after she vomited. I think the most upsetting thing was watching her eyes change, and just knowing the moment when she was gone.
Mark and I have never experienced death before, and it is something really powerful and upsetting. It is amazing and very moving having watched Whiskey pass on. I'm sure the feelings are a lot like experiencing birth, too. I can't really explain it. It's a thing that is so much more powerful than us...I really can't explain it....I can't imagine how much more upsetting and moving it is when it's a human loved one.
A blog upside Mark's head
He who controls the remote controls....the blog? While Mark tends to his NFL Sunday couchfest, he claims he wants creative control over this blog spot that I have impulsively created. To such a statement, I scoff and fire a dirty look his way. We are a couple! We make decisions jointly! And besides, I simply can't relinquish my control, it's just against my Taurus nature.
Anyway, remote control aside, this is intended as a shared space for mutual musings about whatever. We'll see how value-added we are to the blogging world as time goes by. Thanks for paying attention!
Anyway, remote control aside, this is intended as a shared space for mutual musings about whatever. We'll see how value-added we are to the blogging world as time goes by. Thanks for paying attention!
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