Thursday, July 31, 2008

6X360 John B.

John B.

You were among my parents’ motley crew of friends. Didn't your girlfriend get murdered in South America? Or is that my childhood imagination running amok?

Anyway, it seemed you were always off on adventures to far off places. You were funny. You liked to entertain. My earliest memory of you is of you singing some crazy Boy Scout song. You showed us how to make flying goggles by turning our fingers upside down over our eyes.

Later, you married an elegant Belgian lady and the next time we saw you was in Africa where you introduced us to seafood, fresh from the Indian Ocean. Then we stopped to visit you in Belgium and you introduced us to soft, white breakfast buns filled with butter and Belgian chocolate sprinkles. Best. Breakfast. Ever.

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Goodbye, So Long

Well, that's it.  An empty 'postage paid' cardboard box landed on our porch yesterday.  I'm supposed to pack up the PVR and send it away and there you have it, the end of cable.

So I poured a cup of coffee and sat down to watch one last program.  

There's nothing on.

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Wednesday, July 30, 2008


INTERVIEWER: So, what does it feel like to start over again career-wise?

WORKING: Well, I’m only 32. I’m assured that this is perfectly reasonable.

INTERVIEWER: You’re not nervous at all?

WORKING: I’ve done my research.

INTERVIEWER: So you’re doing fine?



WORKING: No. I’m freaking out.

INTERVIEWER: I thought so. Then why are you doing this?

WORKING: I want to contribute to society.

INTERVIEWER: You’re saying people in the television industry don’t contribute.

WORKING: Well, it’s questionable.


WORKING: Ha! I’m kidding! That was a joke. Some of the best people I know work in the industry.

INTERVIEWER: You’re just blowing smoke, now.

WORKING: No, it's true. They’re a tough bunch of mo-fo’s. As my former boss put it, “if I can keep a Director happy, I can do anything.”

INTERVIEWER: Is that true?

WORKING: Trust me. I was just a Director and I was a total jerk.

INTERVIEWER: So back to my original question, why are you doing this?

WORKING: (thinks for a moment)

WORKING: (thinks for another moment)

WORKING: It just feels right.

INTERVIEWER: So what exactly are you going to be doing?


INTERVIEWER: You don’t know, do you.

WORKING: It’ll be in the field of Healthcare.

INTERVIEWER: You don’t have a clue.

WORKING: I do so! Shut up! I have some ideas.

INTERVIEWER: You’re clueless.

WORKING: I’m working on it. I’m talking to people who know.  I'm looking into classes.

INTERVIEWER: And how does Trevor feel about this?

WORKING: He supports me.

INTERVIEWER: He tolerates you.

WORKING: Same difference.

INTERVIEWER: So what else is going on?

WORKING: The dog stinks, like, all the time.

INTERVIEWER: I asked what else is new.

WORKING: No, I mean it’s worse than regular dog stink. Something died in our backyard.  She rolls in it.

INTERVIEWER: Go remove it.

WORKING: I tried. I can’t find it.  There's nothing there.  Just some invisible pile of... stink.

INTERVIEWER: Well, good luck with that.

WORKING:  Thank you.

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Tuesday, July 29, 2008


Oh thank God. I thought the cable had been cut off but it’s just the batteries in the remote. Yes, the plan was to cut it off, but we had to give a month’s notice. I’ve had plenty of time to change my mind and change it back again.

Plus, it’s been well over a month and they still haven’t cut it off. This could mean:
1. Free cable! They think we’re moving and kept it on to woo the new tenants.
2. They meant a month’s notice by billing cycle.

So I may or may not have two more days of cable. Cue ominous music.

The reason I’ve been watching cable and not posting because this is what I do when big things are afoot. I hide. I don’t tell anyone. I dunno, maybe I’m worried people will think it’s stupid. Or that spilling the beans will jinx the whole thing.

EDITED:  The following section was edited because I read it back, got bored, and moaned to myself, oh Working, why can’t you just get to the bloody point?

Here’s the deal:
- I’m unemployed again and as a freelancer, this happens often.
- I’m not looking forward to the job hunt. Not at all.
- I’m getting less and less inspired as time goes on.
- I realize now that I’ve done what I came to do in this industry.
- Time to move on.
- I’m thinking the medical field, TBA.

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Saturday, July 26, 2008

Cuss Words

And here I thought I cussed too much on this blog.  If anything, I need to step it up:

The Blog-O-Cuss Meter - Do you cuss a lot in your blog or website?
Created by OnePlusYou

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Thursday, July 24, 2008


TREVOR: Hey Babes. Saw the craziest thing on my way to work.

WORKING: Oh yeah?

TREVOR: So this banker type (only a few years older than me), on his Blackberry, is trying to exit the front doors of our streetcar at Bay and King. He stands there, talking away, waiting for the doors to open. Then he says, "open the doors, please". Nothing. "Open the doors!"  The driver says, "you'll have to exit the rear doors, sir"(I guess there was a car there or something - or the driver was just being a stickler for the rules). So the banker goes, "Open the F*CKING doors! This is F*CKING ridiculous! Do it now." No response from the driver. So the guys huffs all the way to the back and exits. But he doesn't leave it there. I see him walking along the streetcar to the front to do...something...who knows? Then I hear a lady up front shriek and suddenly there's a thump and an umbrella splayed all over the front window.  

WORKING: Let me get this straight: the guy tried to beat up the streetcar with his umbrella?

TREVOR: I think he walked back up to the front doors to mouth off or something, and then as the driver pulled away, the dude sort of jumped back and in front of an oncoming car and hit it with his umbrella. It startled everyone, but there wasn't any situation after that.  We all saw saw him walking away, still yakking on his Blackberry. Everybody just started laughing.

WORKING: Talk about wrong side of the bed. 

TREVOR: It must've looked crazy from street level. The TTC driver wasn't even fazed.

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Wednesday, July 23, 2008

5x365 Nick the Neighbour

5x365 Nick the Neighbour

As I sit here at five in the morning blinking at my computer screen, I’m thinking about you. I wonder if you aren’t already up. You probably jumped out of bed with more precision than an alarm clock. I bet Mrs. Nick probably already has coffee and a hearty breakfast on the go.

By 6:30 you’ll be out in the garden, pruning and weeding. At 9AM, you’ll make me jump out of my skin as usual when you yell hello across the street to the neighbours. At 10AM it’ll be time for a break and you’ll slip off your sandals and sit on your front porch, people-watching through the bower of greenery that practically encases the front of your house. Mrs. Nick will work on her sewing, as your pet bird chirps between you in its cage.

At noon, you both disappear into the house for a couple of hours. I’m willing to bet it’s for lunch and a nap and Sir, I salut you, as I am also a champion napper when given the chance. At 4PM you will emerge to finish up your chores. Then you have supper and at 8PM the neighbours will come over and you’ll all sit on the porch debating loudly until precisely 10:30PM.

And why the hell am I up so early?  Because I aspire to getting my writing life, at least, down to the simple, comfortable Science you seem to have achieved.  I hope it doesn't take 40 years to form a habit.

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Tuesday, July 22, 2008

4X360 D's Mom

What I can appreciate is a good character.  And so far, the villains in my entries have been the best characters of all.  I am truly blessed in this category.  Though, this must come with the disclaimer that my perspective gives them a rather two-dimensional quality.  Man, do I wish I knew their stories a little better.

4X360 D’s Mom

What was shocking to me was how horrible you were to your daughter. I met you just after my own mother took off and I must say, you were the one mother that didn’t make me feel the loss.

You made D., all of 13 at the time, cook the meals, clean the entire house and parent her little brother while you were out at all hours.  Then maybe you would let her come over to my house. D's freedom was the carrot you loved to dangle and I suspected that you didn’t like me because I was something you couldn't control as much.  You tried, though.  I was only allowed over when you weren’t home (come to think of it, I'd have to leave before you returned.  Maybe I wasn’t so much allowed over…).

We got back at you in our own way.  For one, I did come over.  For another, we spent many delightful hours making fun of your irrational behavior, your chain smoking, your audible sexcapades with that one guy who to this day still creeps me out.

Maybe life was hard on you and that’s why you were so hard on D. You must have had some reason to try to crush the spirit right out of her. And yet, D. is one of the most loving, thoughtful people I know. She wants to be a writer. And lady, you gave her tons to work with.

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Monday, July 21, 2008

Inspiration of the Day: Stronger Yo-Yo

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3x360 A.

(Note:  I swear they aren't all going to be this depressing.  I have some amazing people in my life.  But one thing I'm learning about this process is you can't predict the order of memories)

3x360 A.
I don’t even remember your last name. But just now I came across a picture of you (Facebook has a way of ambushing a person) and it instantly transported me to a turning point in my life. 

You were so interesting and I looked forward to getting to know you better as a co-worker. Then things in the office got very tense, politically. Management vs. staff. Lines were drawn. I could see both sides so I tried hard to remain neutral.  

Then I found out you were having a party and I can’t remember your explanation, but it was clear I was seen as standing on the wrong side of the line. In that small office, I was among the very few not invited. The fallout was one of the most socially awkward and isolating experiences of my adult life.  I did start hanging out with management more because frankly, they were nicer.

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Sunday, July 20, 2008

#2x360 G.B.

#2x360 G.B.
Africa, 1986.  Maybe it was a German thing.  You showed up at our door holding out the bodies of my pet chickens whose necks you'd just wrung.  Perhaps you honestly thought you were teaching me a lesson about the importance of proper fencing of chicken coops.  Perhaps it was a message for my parents, not me.  And perhaps when you saw the look of pure horror on my 10 year-old face, you reconsidered.  Too late, of course.  

Well, my parents may have had the power to make me pretend everything was all right so we could all go on being friends.  But mark my words:  if I ever publish one day, look for yourself in the role of villain, asshole.

(Note to James:  Yes, they seem to be this short.  I suppose it prevents giving too much detail and thereby getting sued (see above).  Also, as you can see I haven't even covered kindergarten.  Your entry could be months, years off)

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Saturday, July 19, 2008


Schmutzie and Palinode do this x365 thing where they write 365 entries about people they’ve met over their lives, people who made an impression. I don’t really know where it comes from (EDITED to add:  At least, I didn't know until I googled it.  And now I know) but I like the idea. 

So yes, I’m copying and I don’t really know the rules. Well, screw the rules. My brain is showing early signs of my future forgetful senior citizen self, so best to start a record tout suite.

Now, who gets to be the very first?

#1x360 TDK
I had a crush on you when I first met you and over the years the crush was replaced by the friendship of a lifetime. I’ll admit I’m a little sad the friendship didn’t last my whole lifetime. I know that in your soft, non-judgmental way you’ve manifested a fork in the path and gone a different direction. And like many before me, I didn’t realize you were leaving until you were gone. I wish you all the best, good buddy.  Thank you for everything.

(p.s. this is fun! I totally have my next person)

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Friday, July 18, 2008

Link: Dr. Horrible

Meanwhile, go watch this. Watch it right now. It's only free for a few days or something.

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Winding Down?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this space lately. I’m not sure what to do with it. If it weren’t for my pets, my health or the latest adorable (yet strange) thing Trevor says, this blog wouldn’t be much of anything.

I am by nature a very private person. There are things in my life that I keep closely guarded. I worry that this blog could be mined for evidence to be used against me or worse, against those I love. Let’s just say I’ve good reason to assume I’m being watched, so I’ve been careful. Maybe excessively so.

Unfortunately, my private life is what would make me even remotely interesting. And since I can’t write honestly, what ends up here is the safe version, a skimming of the truth. Me, by a small fraction.

It seems to me the really good bloggers are so because:

1. They found a way to be comfortable revealing the whole truth.
2. They’ve switched to private blogs.
3. They are such good writers that they can entertain you with their kids/pets/neuroses without actually having to reveal anything truly personal.
4. They specialize in something, like current events. Or Britney’s coochie.

I’m not sure which category I’m aiming for. I just know I haven’t hit it.

On a personal level, this has been a good record for me, especially of the first years of our marriage. This is essentially the only diary I keep. Unfortunately, if I'm ever in the mood to reminisce some day in the far future, I'll have to do some serious reading between the lines. Let's hope the ol' memory holds up.

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Thursday, July 17, 2008

Bad Milk iChat

WORKING: So I was going to take Mad Men back. Anything else we need while I'm out?

TREVOR: um....

TREVOR: there's something, i just can't think of it

TREVOR: we're out of frozen blueberries

TREVOR: and maple syrup

TREVOR: and milk

WORKING: jeesh

TREVOR: and i want a pony

WORKING: you forgot about these when you were just there yesterday?

TREVOR: the milk went bad this morning.

WORKING: It went bad?

TREVOR: very bad

WORKING: Like, it pulled out a gun?

TREVOR: it touched my no-no hole, too.

WORKING: Oh gawd! Bad milk!

TREVOR: It couldn't be rehabilitated. So I put it down.

WORKING: You put it down?

TREVOR: The drain.

WORKING: (groan)

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Tuesday, July 15, 2008


"Careful," the pharmacist said, "they can be addictive."
And ooooooh yes, these drugs are good.  I mean, really, really, really good.  When a celeb blames muscle relaxants, from now on I'll totally believe 'em.

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Monday, July 14, 2008

Tumor Free!

Tumor free!  Tumor free!  I am effin' tumor free!

Ladies and Gentlemen, step up, step up to see the freak!  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a unique situation.  A bonifide boney mystery.  Yes sir, behind this curtain is... wait for it... wait for it... "significant derangement of the TM joints bilaterally; non-reducing anteriorly displaced disc on left side, right side disc deformed and fixed over superior aspect of condylar head secondary to erosive changes and noted anterior translations on both condylar heads."


Once upon a time there was a Princess.  Every morning the Princess looked in the mirror and cried, for she thought she was an ugly Princess.  From birth, her lower jaw had recessed, giving her a seriously wicked overbite and causing her front teeth to splay in a buck-toothed fashion.  And thus all the children laughed and made her be the Ewok at recess time.

One day, when the Princess was almost of age (Grade 10), a magician rode into town with silver instruments and rows upon rows of multi-coloured tooth-jewelry.  "Princess!" he sang out, "why do you cry such bitter tears?  For I can forge this magic metal and turn you instantly into the beauty you so desire to be!  In about two years give or take.  And a little surgery.  Oh, it's minor.  You'll hardly notice it."

The Princess begged the King to let her undergo the magician's magic spell.  The King was suspicious.  He knew the cost of 3,000 golden goats was waaaaaaaay more than the kingdom could afford.  After all, he was a single parenting King who did shift work fixing multiple... broken... kingdoms.


But the Princess cried and begged and told her father that he was never going to marry off any of his many, many, many daughters if he didn't give a little on the cosmetic procedures.  So finally, armed with the King's iffy credit card, the Princess went to see the magician.  The magician waved his wand, said a spell, and the Princess went into a deep, deep sleep from which she awoke a hideous monster.  Though, when the swelling finally went down, she was remarkably pleased with her new look.  She promptly went out and started dating a particular knight just because he had a nice steed.

Fast forward 20'ish years.  The Princess was now married to a King of her own, a decent, kind and loving King.  This makes her a Queen, I guess (which is always what she kind of felt she was anyway).  And our Queen still had that beautiful 3,000 golden goat smile.  But now she was keenly aware of the cost.  For years, ever since the original spell, her face ached.  Her jaw pinched.  Her back and her shoulders screamed.  The bones of her head moved and shifted in ways they weren't supposed to, feeling like the lower half of her face would detach itself from her skull at any second with one final, giant CRACK!  

The Queen, thus tortured for a decade, spent thousands and thousands more golden goats on magicians' spells, seeking out witches and soothsayers to give her the magic that would finally end her painful suffering.  And after a multitude of failures, our Queen came to the end of her journey when one day she was granted access to a beautiful and wondrous White Witch, with some pretty frickin' impressive credentials from the most esteemed American... covens.... Anyway, this White Witch gazed into the depths of her crystal ball, shook her head in bafflement and said, "what in the hell was that magician thinking?" 

See, it turns out that back in those primavera days of Grade 10, that magician had forgotten to read to our Queen the fine print, the part about how ye royal jaw bones wouldn't actually fit anymore after the surgery.  How over the years they would pinch and grind and crack themselves, re-modeling to fit themselves to the magician's evil magic.  How they would rearrange the furniture, folding the cushions into impossible positions.  How they would be referred to as 'degenerated,' 'deformed' and 'severely arthritic'.  And as lovely as the Princess was now on the outside, it turned out to be at the cost of structural integrity on the inside.

There was nothing the White Witch could do to reverse the black magic.  However, for a certain price, she could offer magic beans with wondrous names that end in "ac" and "fen" (side effects include drowsiness, hallucinations, seizures, loss of balance or impaired reactions).  These, she told the Princess, were the options.  "Hand 'em over," said the Queen.

The moral of the story is... well...  I'm still figuring that out.

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What's Up in the Kitchen

“Guess what,” I said to Trevor.
“My cholesterol is up.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. High end of normal.”
 I was scandalized. I am not the type to have high cholesterol.  My people do not get high cholesterol.  Except, apparently I do.

(“It was just after that weekend in Montreal,” I theorized to Trevor.  Yup, I blame  The naked waitresses and their greasy eggs. Not to mention the poutine and smoked meat sandwiches and the crepes and the pasta and the two nights straight of gelato and the burgers that we also consumed that weekend).

My doctor actually grinned a little when he delivered the news, as though this proves his point that 1. I’m overweight and 2. I’m not taking care of myself. Well, pooh.

It bruises my ego, which is large (and apparently overweight).  So Trevor and I have resurrected our menu from healthier days. 

For this week:

Steel cut oats (soaked in kefir overnight), served with berries and a touch of cinnamon maple syrup.*
Soft boiled eggs.
*  Note, I am not a breakfast person.  But that seems to be changing.

Homemade red miso and kobu seaweed soup in a fish broth base
Whole grain pita
Red Bush tea (provided I remember I made it and drink it before it goes cold)

Shake made of kefir, orange juice, frozen berries, and whole food protein powder.**
Square of dark chocolate
Glass of wine
**A shake at the end of the day is perfect.  Quick to make, little clean-up, leaves plenty of time for Corrie.

On the budget front, all of the ingredients are the best quality we can afford (local first, organic second), so it can get expensive. However, we’re eating a lot less meat and nothing is wasted. We make it all from scratch.  So actually, we seem to be spending less in the end.  Especially now that we're not going to the grocery store daily (go in for one thing, come out with 20).

Still, it stings a little to plunk down $7 for eggs (our nutritional bible suggests buying the highest quality of eggs you can afford, as the nutrient pay-off is apparently worth it).

On thing I’ve learned over the years is healthy eating only works if one allows for indulgence. Life is meant to be enjoyed. So weekends are for indulging in whatever craving that’s been driving us mad. Last weekend, it was a unanimous vote for fish ‘n chips. So, so worth it.  What surprised me is that for once, I couldn't finish it.***

***well, I did in the end because I got a doggy bag.  Should've said no to that, in hindsight.  Oh well.  Can't be bloody perfect.

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Friday, July 11, 2008

TV Talk

WORKING: So, media are not big fans of Flashpoint.

TREVOR: Surprise surprise.

WORKING: Funny how much you can tell from a simple one-sheet work up: "Oh yeah, this is going to suck."

TREVOR: It's just this never-ending need of Toronto filmmakers to create these high adrenalin concepts. We just don't do that stuff well.

WORKING: Man-o-man, the parallels you can draw in Canadian reality tv.... Let’s face it. We suck at action-drama. Maybe it’s cuz we’re not a dramatic people. Or particularly active, heh.

TREVOR: Well, we just don't have that aggressive high-octane vibe. Americans have it in spades. And when even when it's kinda fake, you still accept it

WORKING: We can be irreverent and funny. We can take the piss outta each other. We GET sarcasm and irony. Maybe that's why it never works when we try to be all serious and action-packed. You can practically see the writers and half the cast and crew rolling their eyes.

TREVOR: It is possible to do a gripping police drama in Canada. Absolutely. We just have to throw away the U.S. templates. That's why we fall short. Everyone has stories and they can all be dramatic.

WORKING: Right. It would be a different kind of police drama. It'd be dry, humourous and dramatic in its sadness, death, loss and disappointment. All that meets bare-bones funding and NO guns-blazing shoot-outs!

TREVOR: Exactly. You may have the tough guy cops who say movie type lines, but then it would cut to the true blue cops rolling their eyes.

WORKING: Like House, character-wise, but without all the fancy equipment. Long wait times would be part of the joke.

TREVOR: I hate how hospitals and labs look like ad agencies. THAT is why I don't like Bones

WORKING: Well, thanks to TV, we picture the FBI, CSI and CIA all kitted out with futuristic, high tech crime solving gear. But 1. that's a myth and 2. it's not our myth. So we can't tell the story as well.

TREVOR: Exactly. We can't base our myths on someone else's myths. It becomes a copy of a copy and by the very nature of that, the quality degrades. Or feels satirical.

TREVOR: or somethin'

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Financial Guru: Mortgage

And this is what my Financial Guru says about the whole mortgage thing:
The maximum standard amortization before crazy married insane was 25 years. The difference between a 25-year amortization and a 40-year amortization is the cost of the house in interest. Yup. If you take a 25-year amortization, you’ll pay for your house, and pay for it again in interest. Do it for 40 years and you’ll PAY FOR IT TWICE in interest. That’s the real story.

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Thursday, July 10, 2008


After a day of work-related disappointments, we console ourselves at The Real Jerk and decide to walk it off down Queen East.

TREVOR:  I hate when things are up in the air.

WORKING:  Me too. But in that case, we both chose the wrong industry.

TREVOR:  True. It’s just weird.  How do we pick a move date when it could mean we don't get jobs (that we want) for possibly months later? Then there’s the possibility of keeping a bit more work here, but it makes the move date...uncertain. AARGH! it's not solvable! yeesh.

WORKING:  I know.

TREVOR:  Did you see that?

WORKING:  Oh yeah.  Did you see the cuts up her arms?

TREVOR:  And that weird patch on her chest?

WORKING: And that brace?  And she looks anorexic.

TREVOR:  Wow.  It’s amazing how people live.

WORKING:  And here we are worried about what’s coming next.  You know, you look at someone like that and you realize that people survive.  They just do.  And it’s not so bad.

TREVOR:  Yeah right, if you call looking like a bleeding callous ‘not so bad’….

WORKING:  Good point. But I think we’ll be okay.

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Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Cash Grab

Stop the text message cash-grab

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Hot. Just damn hot.

My sister has returned! She's been teaching in Korea for a kabillion-and-three years (give or take a kabillion) and she's home! Of course, "home" is three provinces away from where I am, so she might as well still be in Korea. The flight costs about the same. However, it's nice to have her back in the country. Makes it FEEL like she's closer.  And this picture of my sisters' reunion makes me feel included.

Meanwhile, it's another Toronto summer day. Muggy and hot. I have a hurricane-force fan pointed at my face and another at my laptop because it's also complaining about the heat by, oh, not opening files, dumping programs, that sort of thing. Did I mention my deadline is Tuesday, oh Computer-my-love? And the dog is laying flat-out in the shade out back. She'd rather be swimming. So would I. But despite the heat, people still wear wet-suits to swim in Lake Ontario. Not that the dogs care. The dogs make us all look like pussies.

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Tuesday, July 08, 2008


I have a girlfriend whose son was recently diagnosed with Autism.  I've also just listened to The Dark End of the Spectrum, available as a podcast from CBC's Ideas.  It was absolutely fascinating look into what the disease is, its murky history of diagnosis.

It seems that any progress in research has been largely thanks to parents getting organized.  There isn't a lot of help out there, so no wonder they have to take matters into their own hands.  

I know someone who didn't get his kids vaccinated because he was afraid it was linked.  Many people thought he was being stupid and risky, but it turns out he may have had a point

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Sunday, July 06, 2008


I emerge from the basement. Trevor is standing in the middle of the living room, concentrating.
“What?” I ask.
“The neighbour upstairs just lost his shit.”
“Oh really?” (we are whispering)
“Yeah. Sounds like he came home with groceries and dropped something and it broke or something. I’ve never heard him lose it like that before.”
“He did one day he when I was home alone.”
“Really? He doesn’t seem the type.”
“I know. When he came to the door to ask if he could play his bagpipes, he seemed really sweet.  Innocent, you could say.”
“You don’t associate bagpipes with people who rage.”
“Well, except for the Celts.”
"That whole thing.”
He turns towards the door, “I need to go back up to the Big Carrot for stuff for the chili.”
“You’re going to leave me here? Alone? With him?”
At that second we hear at thump and an “OW!” and a hopping around and a “F*CK F*CK F*CK!”
“Maybe I’ll stick around for a minute,” Trev says.
“Thank you."  We listen for  a minute as he howls and whimpers.  "He must be a student. Really stressed out, on the edge kind of thing. Course, I have a temper, too.”
“Me too. But I just keep it all pent up inside,” Trev says.
“Yeah, and one day it’s going to come unleashed when you take a shotgun to work. Some poor independent production company’s not going to see it coming.”
“Yeah, well, now you can’t say you didn't see it coming,” he warns.
“Fair enough.  It sounds quiet up there now.  The remorse phase.”
“Yeah. So I’m going to go. We really need kidney beans.”

And that's how the chili was saved! The end.

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Saturday, July 05, 2008

The kind of parent I would like to be.... - Watch more free videos


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Lazy Days

This morning was MRI Test Part Deux. Downtown at 3:30 AM is not so different from downtown at 4:30 AM. I even got to witness a drug deal. Naturally, I did my civic duty and pulled over immediately to make a citizen’s arrest.

Or, more accurately, I locked my doors and hit the gas.

Life. Is. Good. I just spent a delicious couple of hours plucking away at my laptop in front of an open window, face lapped by a cool breeze and the scent of grass, freshly and ecologically mown by my husband (using our trusty Can. Tire special).

Then we walked to the Big Carrot to get the fixin’s for the week’s homemade soups, burgers and blueberry muffins. And we picked up Mad Men Season One on DVD.

In other words, I feel it's time for a nap.

To entertain you whilst I’m away, here are some of the things Charlie and Kiwi are up to these days (you may sense a theme):

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Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Happy Canada Day

Let's see if we can't do a little better than this.

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The Pirate's Dilemma

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