A Work In Progress

Wayne's Weather Window

2012-01-08T16:31:00.000-08:00

I'm playing catch-up on a lot of fronts today. It feels good. One thing I wanted to do was send a photo to Wayne's Weather Window. My daughter took these when we were on our way to Grandma's house for Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, Wayne is not accepting photos at this time.

Since I will very likely not set aside another time to send to Wayne, I will post these here. This works out better anyway as I couldn't decide which of the two dozen photos I liked the best. I'll let you guess where these were taken:

iWife

2011-11-05T07:23:00.000-07:00

Or
A side-by-side comparison for the discerning husband

We were joking in Australia that my brother-in-law was getting the most up-to-date version by marrying my baby sister. I'd be the Classic, my middle sister is the 2.0 and baby is the Latest Release. For example, when 2.0 signed the wrong witness line on the Marriage Certificate (yes, I'm putting it out there for the entire Globe to enjoy) 2.0's husband said, "I thought they'd fixed that glitch in this version." Nope, part of the charm in all three models is our ability to nod our heads with understanding then completely screw up really important stuff. (See my post on Ssssnakes.)

Relating this amusing little tale to my daughter, we came up with a number of improvements by the manufacturers (my parents) as they released each model into the world:

2.0, for instance, has a better memory (birthdays in particular), is faster, has a bolder design, better social networking capabilities (she's on Facebook) and is generally more technically advanced. (She was the one who always had to set the time on the VCR. My parents still call her to walk them through how to use iTunes--and set the time on the microwave.)

The Latest Version of course has massive bug fixes (she's learned to live with Huntsmans). It's definitely a smaller (yes, I'm still claiming you're shorter than me) more user-friendly design. She's without attachments--pretty much in The Cloud due to the fact that all her worldly possessions were lost, stolen, or otherwise disposed of on her way to Australia. This one takes socializing to a whole new level. If you want FaceTime, this is the one for you.

Let's not completely dismiss the original, though. Yes she tends to be hardwired into place and often crashes while multi-tasking, but she was innovative for her time and still has room for growth. No, her features aren't as polished and fresh as later models, but she's been a workhorse despite hard use by children. A romantic would call her a Classic.

I just need one man to buy that line. Since he's the kind of guy who's willing to hang onto something old and do the maintenance to keep it running, I think I have a chance.

Oh Brother

2011-11-04T07:08:00.000-07:00

Or,
The Wedding Of The Century

I couldn't do this series of posts on my trip to Oz without giving the wedding itself a bit of press. My sister and (new) brother-in-law had their hands full this year. They spent a month here last Christmas and returned to Brisbane in the middle of the huge floods that devastated so much of the area. They were fortunate to be on higher ground and only adversely affected second-hand by things like a lack of groceries in the stores.

On the silver lining side, my brother-in-law is a builder. Guess what? Lots of people needed their homes repaired, renovated and rebuilt. His phone began ringing as soon as he turned it on after landing and he's been extremely busy since. Meanwhile, they also bought a house and began to renovate it for themselves. Then my sister had the baby early due to complications.

On our side of the ocean, over Christmas, we had concluded that since my middle sister and her husband would be in NZ for the World Cup in October, it made sense for everyone to converge in Oz for a wedding around that time. My parents were intending to visit about then anyway and I was just planning to get my hands on that baby soon as he was born, but I did as I was told and waited to get on a plane until late September.

My baby sister really didn't need to be planning a wedding and a family reunion in the middle of the rest of her Very Big Year, but she did. And it was beautiful. Thunder rolled in overnight, waking all of us and making us groan that the outdoor wedding would have to be moved inside, but when we got up in the morning, the skies had cleared. The sun came out, the birds sang, and no one fought over the shower. The biggest drama was that baby didn't really enjoy his tuxedo as much as the rest of us did, but what man does? We stripped him down pretty quick and when he fell asleep took hilarious photos of him looking like a best man who'd passed out after an all-nighter with his bowtie askew, his jacket as a blanket and his Sophie Giraffe tucked in beside him. (Look it up - best gift for baby showers ever.)

I don't have permission to post their photos to the internet, but you can't see their faces in this one. Check out the view where they got married. Stunning, isn't it?

Note that you don't really dress up in lace, tulle, hoop skirt and veil when it's already thirty degrees and humid at ten in the morning. You keep it simple and--this note applies for prospective brides worldwide--when the photographer asks the groom to pick you up and spin you, give some thought first to your tolerance for being dizzy. Baby sister was already having problems walking in those Cinderella shoes on the wet grass. After this performance, she might as well have been knee-walking drunk. Definitely a good laugh for the rest of us, but not always the look a bride is going for.

I'll close with the biggest, warmest Welcome To The Family hug for my brother-in-law. I was a tiny bit mad at him for charming my sister into abandoning Canada for the opposite side of the globe, but what girl has a chance against that accent? And he's remarkably tolerant of her need for sister time--a stellar quality in any man as far as I'm concerned. He's even gone to the trouble of raising up the new house so he can put a relo-suite in the lower floor! (To be fair, his family visits from out of town too so I suppose it's not just for me, but it's a very generous thing to do regardless.)

And lets not forget, he's helped bring into the world a handsome new boy who is not only The Cutest Baby In The Southern Hemisphere, but my nephew. I love him right there for that one!

Now if he could only teach me to say, "G'day Mate" so I don't sound like such a Stupid Tourist....

Gold Coast

2011-11-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

Or,
More Life And Death Experiences for the Stupid Tourist

One of my dearest writing friends, Cathryn, recently added me to her RSS feeds and said she was looking forward to keeping up with me through my blog. As a regular reader, you will be laughing as hard as I am right now because you know that I don't keep up my blog. This string of posts is an anomaly prompted by the aligning of several key planets: I have a topic (trip to Oz), I have time (just sent a submission on Thursday--wish me luck) and I have reached the level of guilt required to make me put in the time to write a few decent posts (I can't bear to disappoint Cathryn!)

I suppose I could have also titled this post Dear Friends With Whom I Don't Spend Enough Time since I went to the Gold Coast to meet Supa Sal, a cherished friend for nigh on twenty-six (seven?) years. Yes, Sal, we are that old. Yikes!

I met Sally on a Contiki tour of Europe. Eighty percent of the travellers on that tour were from Oz and two years later I went to Australia to visit with many of them. Eight years after that, hubby and I honeymooned there. That's why seeing a lot of Australia wasn't on my agenda this trip. Don't get me wrong--I think it's a beautiful country and given an unlimited budget, I'd spend unlimited time there getting to know the wonderful people and seeing the gorgeous beaches, the opal mines, Tasmania which I never have got to, more of Perth, Darwin...

However, this trip was very much about spending time with my sister and her new husband and baby so that's mostly what I (very happily) did. I couldn't go all that way without trying to connect with Sal though. She very kindly met me on the Gold Coast. She has friends and family there so it worked for her. She also still has awesome connections in the travel industry and got as a sweet deal on a two bedroom flat overlooking the ocean. OMG I lived high for a weekend.

But it was a weekend of contrasts. My sister drove me down there and spent the first night with us, which was awesome. Sally brought her son, who's a gorgeous three year old who really does have the most precious Aussie accent and one of those pre-schooler lisps. "Tooz me, Dani. Can you help me?" Of course, sweetpea, can I take you home with me? Sooo cute!

Anyway, we had the loveliest, most relaxing evening, got the boys off to bed and had a girls' evening with a few glasses of wine and some amazing take-out Thai from a nearby restaurant. All good. Then I got horribly sick the next morning. I swear I didn't drink that much for it to be a hangover, but I was sick, sick, sick. I could barely see off my sister and thankfully Sally had friends to visit because I went back to bed and stayed there for about six hours. By evening I was ready for Mexi food though so whatever the bug was, it was short-lived.

The next day was raining pretty hard so Sally and I went shopping. Her son was amazing--definitely going to make some woman very happy someday because the two of us shopped our brains out and he very patiently put up with it. Both Sally and I live in very rural areas. We both have jobs and kids and limited budgets of purse and clock. With every shop screaming "Mid-Season Sale" we were about in heaven. Very cool plaza of shops too, part of it like a typical mall here in North America and part of it spilling outside to a courtyard maze of shops with a small canal. I highly recommend a visit to the chain of Rivers stores. They have hilariously campy, dull-voiced ads on the telly, but they also have great bargains if you have time to poke through their selection.

By afternoon the skies were clearing so we hit the beach. I was so happy to have that opportunity since it really would be a crime to go all the way to Australia and not swim in the ocean at least once. I am the biggest sissy when it comes to the ocean though. I don't have any confidence against the power of waves and am quite certain they will suck me out to Japan at the first opportunity. Sally, a surfer who has lived in the ocean most of her life, didn't help when she came out and said, "Watch out for that rip over there."

What rip? I can't see it!! The three-year-old was braver than I was, but generously held my hand and showed me how to jump the lapping foam high up the beach where we couldn't get into too much trouble. After much coaching from Sally though, I did manage to get up to my thighs in the water and duck under a wave enough to say I 'swam' in the ocean. I was head-to-toe wet is what really happened, but that was enough to vindicate me. I'm always mad at myself if I go to the lake here at home and chicken out of swimming because it's too cold. I wasn't mad at myself when I left the beach, although I was assured by my brother-in-law that only Stupid Tourists swim in the 'winter.'

Here I am working up my courage:

Speaking of Stupid Tourists, when I got back to my sister's the news reported that the beaches on the Gold Coast had been closed because sharks had been sighted. That's sharks--plural. (No, that's not a fin behind me, just another Stupid Tourist.)

The entire trip was a mixed bag of weather since it's their Spring. Look at the storm that rolled in after we'd been on the beach for the afternoon:

Since moving from the coast to the interior, we don't get as much rain as I grew up with. Not heavy, pelting rain that makes you want to curl up in bed with a book. I miss that sound so I was thrilled when the thunder storms moved in and I could open the doors and watch Mother Nature's show.

All in all it turned out to be a perfect time of year to visit since the heat was never too intense (although it was plenty hot when the sun did come out.) The humidity was there, but not overwhelming. The cool days were damp and made you reach for long pants, but weren't cold. And everything was coming into bloom. Did I get a decent picture of the jacaranda trees? No. I'll let you look it up or visit yourself to see them.

Ssssssnake!

2011-10-31T07:29:00.000-07:00

Or, What do I look like? A Stupid Tourist?

Continuing my report on my visit to Oz in October...

(I thought this would be a good post for Halloween)

One morning I walked onto the veranda and found a snakeskin between the potted plants. I called Mom out and said, "That must be the skin they told us they found when they moved in." No, it was a fresh one. My sister had watered those plants the day before and the skin hadn't been there. My brother in law, the tallest of the men there at 6'2", later held it with his arm extended above his head. The tail of the skin was still about a foot on the floor. As my sister likes to point out, "That's how big it used to be." The skin was still supple and stretchy, not dried out and crackly. Here my dad compares it to his hand:

When Dad stretched it out, it was almost as wide as his hand is long. Ask the nearest man hands to make a circle touching the heels of his hands and his fingertips. That's the girth of this bad boy. Gulp!

Note to Stupid Tourists: When I first discovered this skin, the men weren't home. I wanted a photo of it dangling off the veranda, but my sister said, "It might still be out there." She'd already identified it as likely a Carpet Python. (Not an Apartment Python as my yoga instructor heard when I told this story. Those are a completely different variety. Very tame. Everyone in the city has them. Ahem.)

Anyway, I thought she was winding me up with her warnings, saying "I'll get a shovel, but it'll be to bury you, not protect you." I'm thinking this thing isn't like a rattler or something that strikes out. She said the bites weren't deadly poison, just a visit to the hospital and highly unpleasant. Constrictors always look like they move pretty slow on the nature channel. I was confident I could outrun it.

So I took my photo and when I came in the house, my sister said that her husband to be would be really angry with her if he knew she'd let me do that. Oh. I didn't think she was that serious, but she said, "Think about it. How often do we shake our heads at the stupid tourist who gets too close to a bear?"

Oh, you mean like me, standing in my front yard yelling, "Hey, Bear, smile for the camera?"

And let's walk through a day in the life of a constrictor. The one we're talking about probably outweighs me. (I was pretty careful with what I ate before leaving, knowing I'd pack it on over three weeks of vacation and celebration.) So Mr. Constrictor sinks his fangs into my ankle and really doesn't have to do anything else at that point. I'm not going anywhere. He's a two hundred pound ball and chain. I struggle 'til I'm tired and he slithers up and gives me a hug. Once all my bones are broken into digestible sized pieces, he dislocates his jaw and settles in for a big turkey dinner.

Stupid, ssssstupid tourist....

Home Again Home Again

2011-10-29T09:29:00.000-07:00

Jiggedy Jig.

I used to say that to the kids whenever we pulled into the garage after a big day. I had a very big day out recently. I went to Australia to meet my nephew! Picture the most adorable infant you can imagine then give him an Aussie accent.

Okay, you had to listen hard to hear it, but he was adorable regardless. You'll have to take my word for it because I'm not posting his photo to the internet. Someone might steal him and my sister would blame me. I was very tempted! Having said that, the house we were staying in had very thin walls so I heard him every time she got up with him in the night and I have to admit, I do enjoy my older children for the full night's sleep I get these days.

For those of you wanting to visit Australia vicariously through me, it will be a lot of baby cuddling and gabbing with family. I had to buy throat lozenges I was doing so much of that! Hubby and I visited Oz and NZ on our honeymoon, so I really wasn't there to see the sites. It was all about wedding, sister and baby--since I probably won't see them again for a year or more. :(

I do have a few photos to share. This is the view off the back veranda where my sister and brother in law are staying while they renovate their own house. It's a rustic farmhouse in Clearmountain, about an hour Northwest of Brisbane, quite a ways inland. This is looking toward the city, but we'd had thunder and rain all day and then...a lovely rainbow.

My sister assures me they get koalas in some of these eucalyptus trees, but they don't get as many wallabies as they used to now they have a dog. Most of the wildlife I saw was on the road--sadly a dead joey and a dead goanna, but a Red Bellied Black slithered across in front of us. Apparently they're a 'good' snake because even though they can kill you in twelve minutes, they eat the Browns that can kill you in six. Oddly my sister wouldn't let me out of the vehicle to take a photo. Such a killjoy.

Further to the snakes...see my next post.

Paddington Bear

2011-08-06T13:15:00.000-07:00

Or
I think she's still feeding them.

It's 12:45, just about the hottest part of the day. Look who just came for lunch under our cherry tree wearing his best fur coat:

I swear, he's not guarding our grow-op. We don't have one. However, I'm pretty sure he's guarding somebody's grow op because I have it on good authority that that particular woman has been into the local grocery store for the big sacks of dog food on several occasions this summer. (Google 'bears guarding grow-op for the full story. While you're at it, cruise Youtube for the Russian Newscaster who couldn't stop laughing when she tried to report on this story. It's good for a giggle.)

Meanwhile, Mr. Bear's visit to our neighborhood is tragic, it really is. I didn't have the heart to call the conservation officer, but someone else will--if they don't shoot it themselves. This guy ambled away when the kids and I went on the deck to take his photo and my son called out a few sarcastic remarks. Not everyone is so tolerant though.

I'm so tolerant that after I saw him out there yesterday morning, I warned the kids that if they went to the beach while I was at work they should, "Walk on the road, don't go through the woods." Cause pavement stops bears every time. It's like a forcefield. Yeah, I'm still going for that Mother of the Year award.

Meanwhile, our backyard isn't exactly Paddington Station, and this is as close as I'll get to pinning a "Please Look After This Bear" note on him, but he's free to a good home if you'd like to save him from a terrible fate and come get him.

Magic Eyes

2011-05-28T22:17:00.000-07:00

or
Look Ma, No Contacts!

I never like to mention my plans before I leave town. Isn't there a website called 'Come Rob Me?' I'm fairly paranoid as a rule so even though I'm quite sure the only people reading my blog are friends and family whom I'm more than happy use my house in my absence, I take precautions.

However, the Big News is that I went for the fancy eye correction surgery. Don't worry, no spoilers. I won't get into the gory details (like the suction rings that give you the sexy 'eye hickies'.) I'll just give the good people at Kelowna Laser Vision a plug because they were awesome. It's a highly freaky procedure so best to be with people you trust and they were incredibly reassuring. I felt like I was in good hands :)

They recommended the mono-vision procedure which means they corrected one eye to long distance vision and left one a little near sighted so I wouldn't need the cheaters so soon. I have to admit, I was highly skeptical and basically only said yes because they assured me that I could have the one eye redone if necessary later. (Note: The surgeon was incredibly deft and the procedure was as quick and comfortable as having your eyeball cut and burned could be, but you're still getting your eyeball cut and burned so having been through it, I'm not in a hurry to do that again.) Having said that, I'm really glad I went with the mono vision. I can tell that my eyes are seeing differently, but it mostly feels like one contact is screwed up--something I'm very used to. And that comes and goes. I'm confident that I soon won't notice the difference at all.

Not to say I won't develop a gorgeous Bill the Cat squint along the way. Fingers crossed!

I will say this about the procedure. Everyone I spoke with said "It takes five minutes." That is a lie. There is much scrubbing of eyelids and giving up make-up prior. There are consultations and follow ups. There is much sitting around waiting for drugs to take effect and for the woman ahead of you to quit hyperventilating and get on the damned table for heavens' sake, before I lose my nerve.

There is also the prolonged drabness factor. Along with quitting contacts, I was in dire need of a haircut and streaks so by the time I went in for my consult Thursday, I was about as homely as I have ever been with the exception of when I was extremely pregnant, retaining Georgia Strait and again, badly in need of streaks.

(I managed a visit to a nearby salon after my consult on Thursday and honestly, I think the only reason the stylist made time for me was that she was due to repay some karma. She actually paled and yelled, "Clear my schedule!" Obviously I was in the neighborhood of magicians because she managed to pop some color into my hair, trim it into a cute bob and basically gave me a style that manages to distract from my post-op demon-like bloodshot eyes.)

After the consult, Hubby and I went out for dinner to the Keg. It's been oh... about twenty years, but good news. They haven't lost the smarm at that particular establishment. The staff are all young, attractive, and still very much like used-beef salesmen. I'm not sure what genius at head office decided to go back to the grassroots promise of the Keg, but the only thing on the menu was steak. Yes, it's still a meat market in every sense of the word. And I'm not saying the meal wasn't good, but wasn't there a time when you could get some kind of sizzler with actual vegetables? I had something the server referred to as a 'chicken product.' Again, I'm not saying it wasn't tasty, but it is conceivable that at least one person in a dinner party is a vegetarian, or like me--not a vegetarian, but not someone who needs twelve ounces of meat at a sitting. Maybe throw a decent stir-fry on the menu. Just saying.

It was a total date night for us. We hit the premier of the Hangover 2 after dinner. "What was the last thing you saw before losing your sight in laser surgery, Dani?" Um, things I never should have seen in my life. Funniest thing? We were very close to taking the kids to Kelowna with us and would have taken them to that movie. I know, so close to winning that Parent of the Year Award again. Dee-nied.

Being the fast-living folk that we are, we then went back to the hotel and slept about eleven hours. That's how we roll. The second night was more like thirteen. We did some shopping the next morning and hit the clinic after lunch for The Procedure. I'd also like to put in a plug for the (new) intralase sbk method. My sister had the prk (as did the nice young man at the registration desk of our hotel.) Obviously this is a very personal choice and for both my sister and the concierge, the prk was an excellent and very effective vision correction procedure.

The advantage to the intralase is the quicker recovery period. I'm writing this approximately 18 hours after the surgery. My sister reported that she was basically out of commission for a week and not back to full clear vision until approx two weeks after surgery. I was in extreme discomfort prior to my nap after the procedure (ibuprofen helped.) This morning I felt like I was wearing uncomfortable contacts. By the time we were driving home after my follow up exam, my eyes felt kind of dry and my vision was still a bit hazy, but I didn't really need the sunglasses. Right now, the sense of grittiness comes and goes, but I'm seeing really well and sooo happy.

All in all, aside from the fifteen minutes with the Clockwork Orange springs on my eyes when my vision blurred out to black (normal, apparently) and the hour when my eyes streamed tears and I began to fear the burning pain would never end, it was a romantic getaway weekend with my the love of my life.

Punchline: we got home in time for the six o'clock news where they featured the story of the man who is debunking the 'safety' of the laser correction procedures. What do I do now?

Up For Air

2011-05-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

I'm riding the high of just having submitted a manuscript. It went out yesterday and we then had the good fortune to have family in town and thus a Mom willing to cook. Good times last night, gang. Thanks for the laughs. That was awesome. My cheeks were actually hurting on the way home.

I also had time yesterday, after hitting Send, to get the rest of my vegetable garden in. I think. We'll see. I'm famous for forgetting that I've already put seeds in so I'll throw something else on top of them. I call myself a guerilla gardener because I never know if I'm pulling weeds or last week's planting. When it comes to gardening, I'm tall on enthusiasm, short on skill. (Actually, that may apply to more than just gardening.) And lucky me, the way the previous owners had things set out, there are several beds on which to practice. Our goal this year is to retire a few, pull out the wimpy irises or sickly lilac sprigs and move them into one of the other underwatered, neglected clumps of shrubs. Then we'll throw some compost out there and get some true surprises, with a zucchini or grapevine or currant bush appearing like magic and making me wonder who gave me currant bush seeds because I totally don't remember putting those in. Hmmm...

Anyway, that's my long way of saying I finally have time to blog, but sadly no real topic. I'm not mad at anyone so nothing to vent. I'm always thrilled when I see my little marker of visits to my website has climbed. For those of you kind enough to drop by and see if I've updated anything, thank you, although I know you're just bored at work. (Little shout out to KT--name changed to protect the guilty, but you know who you are ;o)

I won't pretend I'll be back very soon. I want to get a jump start on another submission and my daughter and I brainstormed an animated movie that I really, really want to get back into, so between that and pulling red clover from choking out my lettuce... well, you know the drill.

'Til next time...

Where Does The Time Go?

2011-03-21T20:43:00.000-07:00

Or
That Old Song

I don't mean to be a repeating record. (Note to anyone under forty: A record is made of vinyl and was once used to distribute music, pre-iTunes.)

I keep swearing (I'm not talking about cussing, although I do that too. No I mean vowing) to quit going on about how busy I am. For one thing, Baby Sister assures me it's the height of arrogance to use being 'busy' as an excuse for anything. We're all busy and my time isn't any more important than yours so if you've stopped by to see if I've written anything new and been disappointed, then I beg your forgiveness.

However, I also put forth that your time is too precious to waste on reading my half-hearted attempt at blogging, so, um, You're Welcome as well.

Anyway, I had great hopes of getting my latest ms off then kicking back with a visit with my girlfriend in Kelowna (did and it was awesome!) Then I was to come home and get caught up on all the things I've been pushing to the back burner while I was writing that smokin' hot ms. Of course, I forgot that the editor I've been working with is also smoking hot and she has already sent me suggestions for revisions. So I will not be helping hubby clean the garage this week. (He's devastated. Now he can spend all his time finishing that bathroom reno we started in October, rather than being distracted with making room for that ping-pong table he wanted.) (LOL - I totally just heard him swearing because he accidentally turned the shower on himself.)

I also won't be writing that super-intelligent, fun and well-worth-the-read entry this week. Possibly two. Sadly, I am now squeezing in excuses between printing out the editor's email and phoning Australia.

The really really pathetic thing about my blogging habits is, I have such great intentions. I read something in the newspaper over breakfast and I am FIRED UP while I drive to work. I have all sorts of extremely insightful opinions that the world needs to hear in order to balance some dopey journalist's POV on topics that really matter.

Unfortunately, I tend to forget them somewhere between remembering to pick up milk on the way home and remembering to take my kids to wherever they're going that evening. Rest assured though, that if I actually wrote down all those things I was thinking, you'd be nodding your head and laughing at how well I put those know-it-alls on the run. I'm that good.

You know, when I sit back and look at it, I'm pretty sure I don't have time to be published.

But I am trying to get there...between all the rest. Thanks for dropping by to see how I'm progressing.

Oh, and for those of you following the wildlife visitors to our neck of the woods, we're on to wild boars. I'll post photos if one shows up in our garden.

cheers!

Cougar Here

2011-01-16T16:44:00.000-08:00

Not me, silly! Although I'm flattered. No, I'm talking about the real deal. As wikipedia says:

also known as puma, mountain lion, mountain cat, catamount or panther, depending on the region,

We got one, or one of each, prowling our 'hood. Here's the sequence of events:

Tuesday: Daughter gets a ride home from the bus stop from a family friend who said cougars (plural) have been spotted in the area.

Wednesday: Hubby goes to meet son to walk him home from school, but being macho, they take the path through the bush. I pick up our daughter from her school after work.

Thursday: I meet a neighbour at the post office. He tells me how much he appreciates my son walking his daughter home from school yesterday because they found cougar prints in their yard that morning. (Was my son being a gentleman? Was it just on the way to meet my husband? Or is the neighbour's daughter cute as the dickens? All of the above.)

Friday: Kids are off school, it's hubby's day off, Dad and Son enjoy a rousing game of snow pitch in the afternoon. Cougars? What cougars?

Saturday: Bottle sort at the school. I take the bottles down in the car and run an errand. Hubby and son are going to walk down and meet me there to help out. My cell rings. "Mom, you need to come back and pick up me and Dad. There are cougar prints all around the house."

Check it out:

And here's one from where the snow pitch tournament was held. Note that the paw prints are made ON TOP OF the boot prints. We were joking that they were made fifteen minutes before I took these photos. Heh, heh. Let's go back in the house.

Note as well how deep this thing pressed his/her feet, just to intimidate us.

And why would the cougar choose our house to case? Well, hubby spoils our darling house cat by cutting paths through the snow so Bud won't get his little belly wet when he does his security checks at night. See?

The deer use these paths as a highway through the back yard, but apparently so does our new neighbour. He--or rather they, because there were several paw prints and they made two different tracks after the compost--went right down that path we all used during our Christmas Extravaganza. Remember that night, dear sister and brother-in-law, when we hiked up the hill through the woods because we were too inebriated to drive and, in my case, too drunk to walk? Right there. I kid you not.

Although, I'll be honest and admit I did not have the nerve to walk all the way down there today and see where they came out. Sober makes smarter. :)

Happy New Year!

2011-01-13T19:38:00.000-08:00

On January 13th...

December whizzed by in a blur of family and then I was back at work so haven't come up for air until now. It was my intention to post a few blogs about the dozen odd (pun intended) family members who rolled into town for the holidays, but we were just having so darned much fun, I never sat down and wrote about it.

That's not completely true. I was the funnel for all the photos taken--gotta love the digital age. We dumped them all into my trusty macbook, I spat them into a photo album, and they're sitting on my dining room table waiting to be mailed by the weekend as promised. I still have photos in boxes from when the kids were little that haven't made their way into albums so this is truly a Christmas Miracle.

No other news, just wanted to let you know I'm alive--and since I know I'm probably only speaking to my g'fren up the road whose brother lives where my sister lives... I tried to email you and ask if he's okay or flooded out?

Leaving with a photo from our Day At The Beach when all the family was here. My cousin's daughter carved this. Isn't she amazing? Way to go, M :)

Updated Website Today!

2010-11-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Or,
I'm Such A Doofus...

In keeping with my usual Tech-Savvy ways, I finally got around to updating my website today and please, don't get excited. I didn't accomplish much except realize that I had to approve guest book entries. So thank you to those of you who signed it back in the Spring. And thank you to the Website Tonight creators for making those approvals necessary as one person--not mentioning any names but seriously, how old are you?--entered something inappropriate.

So I deleted it. Nyah.

Other news... It's snowing! Hubby and I were laughing at ourselves because it usually snows before Halloween here and we've made it all the way to mid-November without having to winterize. So we didn't. Ack! The snow shovels are buried under the garden hoses we tossed in there when the frost hit. We are definitely grasshoppers this year, not ants. Which, to tell the truth, is the way our Spring started. A day late and many a bed of flowers unweeded so it's no surprise the Fall was equally mismanaged.

To be fair we've been--I'm using the Royal 'we' since it's mostly that poor sod of a husband of mine--We are renovating a bathroom. I won't go into detail here. It's too horrific, especially with family bearing down on us for the holidays. It's all in the Christmas letter for those of you who will be affected. And yes, the letter will incite panic and yes, you should bring a swimsuit as you may be visiting the local rec center.

I should carry on with my busy Sunday. Just wanted to say thanks to my guests and also to the nine hundred plus people who have visited my website. The last time I checked it was a Hitchhikers meaning-filled 42, so Wow. Hello everyone and thanks for stopping by.

Proud to be Canadian Today

2010-10-13T18:07:00.000-07:00

Today Canada became the first nation in the world to officially list BPA as toxic. This is why I'm thrilled:

About five years ago, I saw my first pink Tic Tac container. I thought, wow, bubblegum flavoured Tic Tacs? Cool. But no. Tic Tac was helping me become Breast Cancer aware by making their container pink.

I mean absolutely no disrespect to Breast Cancer survivors when I say this, but my first thought was, "Really?!? And how much cancer does this stupid pink package cause?" At the time I didn't know, but I was pretty sure, with my limited scientific knowledge, that something in that container (product, label, glue, ink, preservative, or--as it turns out--leeching chemicals from the plastic itself) was bound to have a detrimental affect on a person's health.

I'll even come out of the closet and say I've had trouble giving money to Run For A Cure and other cancer-benefiting fundraisers in the past. It always seemed to me that these things were looking for a cure and I just wanted to tear my hair out. How about we prevent it? We already know that exhaust fumes, pesticides and smoking cause cancer. How about we stop doing some of that?

Now I'll also admit that I am firmly imprinted with that particular shade of pink that tells me I should be Breast Cancer Aware. It's a nice shade of pink and what girl doesn't want a pretty pink hardhat or a blushing stapler on their desk? I even got it free of charge in my Sunday comics this weekend, but I don't really understand what to do with all this awareness this pink campaign is promoting. Do I run out and give money to Breast Cancer Funds? Why? I just feel hostile when I see it because it seems the height of gall to me that companies purporting to want to help use CANCER-CAUSING CHEMICALS to tell everyone we have a problem.

Maybe that's just me.

We took a great step toward curing cancer today--with little fanfare and good ol' preventative action.

In Memory

2010-10-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

Remembering Danielle today - a good writer, a good rider and a good girl. We all miss you, sweetie.

(The Angel, ca. 1912, Painted by William Baxter Closson, 1848-1926, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum.)

Make Do Ping-Pong

2010-09-26T19:54:00.000-07:00

We can't afford a ping pong table so look what my husband and son have to resort to:

Bad Blogger

2010-09-12T21:16:00.000-07:00

Obviously I'm a bad blogger. In my defence I've been writing a book.

And rewriting.

And working.

And reading. I started reading Pride and Prejudice on my iPhone in, oh, probably January. I read about a page a week when I'm stuck waiting somewhere with no one to talk to. I haven't read it since high school, but I'm laughing out loud, enjoying it so much. I'm up to the bit where everyone makes a fool of themselves at the Bingley soiree. Makes me want to break out my A&E six hour mini series.

The problem is, every time I do that, I lose myself with the Bennets for a few evenings, then I miss them when it's finished. So I watch Bride and Prejudice (the Bollywood version, if you don't know.) That makes me want to watch Bend It Like Beckham, so now we're a week into doing nothing every evening but watching TV and when I'm done that, I start thinking about the Keira Knightly version of P&P. That's barely a snack and just whets my appetite for the extended version and... You see what a vicious circle it becomes.

Anyway, I thought I best post something, so inquiring minds know I'm still alive. Mostly I've been motivated by a friend who caught me in the grocery store the other day and told me she'd been reading my blog. I went, "I have a blog? Oh creeps, I ought to post something!"

The fact is, I do think of posting. I'm usually driving the car at the time and can't even scribble some notes, let alone compose an entry. I thought I had a really good, meaty topic the other night when I went to try turning on our TV all by myself for the first time since we got satellite. The title was going to be "Why Women Get Divorced."

Hubby stepped out and I was faced with--I'm not kidding--six remotes. I think one is actually redundant and he keeps it in case we ever go to the recycle depot and get one of our old TV's back. (True story: when we moved into this house six years ago, we still had a remote in a night table for a TV that had been stolen more than a decade before. Some men keep photos of their old girlfriends....)

Anyway, my son came in and saved our marriage and I discovered that we now get the John Daily show so hubby was redeemed in his decision to go the satellite route and foster more remotes that needed adoption into a good home. Meanwhile, I was in a snit for a full ten minutes and mentally began composing this blog only to end up thinking it has probably been done to death by sharper, more current and definitely more diligent bloggers than myself. So feel free to google a rant about remotes. Actually, the Onion network's Stupid Sony Box Thing is probably the direction I was going and they really do it so much better than me, so start there.

See, as much as I enjoy having an outlet for the blather in my head, I'm really about the novels at the moment. Singular. Apparently Saturn is in my first house, making me pare down and contract. (I actually like the sound of that word!) If I can get this one thing done right, I'll feel like a winner so I'm trying to focus. Bear with me. If there's ever anything exciting to post, I'll be sure to get to up here within a calendar month.

Time to go read my--not kidding again--fifty two unread emails. I'm a bad social networker, if you want the truth. Even my real life friends say it so.

Return Visitor

2010-08-01T13:09:00.000-07:00

I heard that special rustle in the trees again, the one that sounds like a squirrel on steroids. I looked out to see our buddy had returned. This time he was filling up on Saskatoon berries. Picture a twenty-foot blueberry bush. The branches aren't like a stalwart Douglas Fir. They're twigs and he's at least a few hundred pounds. We filmed him for a while, hoping he'd fall and we could post it on Youtube. He was totally asking for it. Look:

He was entertaining to watch despite not falling. What is it about bears that they always look like a guy in a bear suit?

Meanwhile, while we were shooting nothing but still and motion pictures, we were talking about whether we were part of the problem. We didn't make a huge effort to scare him off beyond yelling a few remarks that insulted his grace and lack thereof. He is, therefore, what the news calls 'becoming conditioned to humans.'

In our defence, he wasn't even up one of our fruit trees this time. Saskatoons are native here. You can't kill a bear for being a bear. Besides, it would have meant discharging a firearm in the direction of our closest neighbour's house. I'm no gun expert, but I'm thinking that's not cool.

Speaking of Youtube and the internet, I was asking my daughter if she remembered the actress who played Buffy the Vampire Slayer's sister. I thought she was the same actress who plays Bruce Willis's daughter in Cop Out. (Is that what it was called? We just watched it last night, with Tracy Morgan.)

Anyway, she said, "Mom. We have something called the internet." I was like, "That's no fun." Seriously, my sister is my go-to when it comes to playing Name That Tune. We've called her at ungodly hours over the years to find out if it was Boston, Kansas, America or Foreigner. (Little River Band. What are you, retarded? Go to bed.)

Meanwhile, her husband is the On-Star of the family. Who wants to look up Google Maps on an iPhone if you can use the phone (hands-free of course!) and let him remotely pilot you through the Lower Mainland. (Definition of good times: Calling him on her cellphone to tell him she got us lost. What are you, retarded? I told you not to go that way.)

My mom is a typical maternal font of knowledge. True story: decades ago we were in a store in New West, I can't even recall what for. The cashier was a young woman. She said, "You're a mom. You'll know what to do. The face of my watch is steamed up on the inside." My mom quickly dashed into the nearest phone booth, came out with a capital M emblazoned on her chest and said, "Leave it somewhere warm for a few days, like on top of your TV."

Dad can literally tell you how to build a better mousetrap. If I need to know what an ombudsmen does, or what 'mad as a cut snake' really means, the only lifeline I need is the one to my second sister and her significant other in Australia.

Internet, shminternet. That's not even real people.

But, actually it is. I have no idea why this seems significant to me, but I think it's funny how depersonalized we think the internet is when it's actually built by humans. That bear up my tree ain't making any entries into it unless I post it for him. I'm not saying the internet is never wrong. Hello. It's built by humans. Of course it's prone to gross error. But by checking the internet for a bit of trivia, I may not be reconnecting with my family, but I'm connecting with someone, somewhere.

In On Writing, Stephen King talks about how writing is just a psychic message that's transmitted over time from one brain to another. I love that concept. It makes me think there must be a wi-fi modem built into an ant hill and that's why they have antennae. The Queen taps in "Hey, Leaf-Cutter, drag that dead guard out to the graveyard. And by the way, who sang 'Take It Easy On Me? Styx?'" (What are you, retarded? Little River Band.)

By the way, when I use the term 'retarded' I mean it in the modern 'are you failing to grasp the obvious' sense. As much as I appreciate the internet, I am more than aware you have to be careful what you post. Think that bear needs more compensation for using his image than a tree full of Saskatoon berries? Or am I in for a world of hurt?

Chill-axing. Not.

2010-07-27T12:54:00.000-07:00

So I recently had a conversation with my brother in law about how we don't need to use the summer house because we live in a summer house. I feel no need to 'get away' because with work and running around with the kids, I feel like I'm barely ever home. That was last Friday, when hubby and son gone to the summer house, picking apricots and going to see Wide Mouth Mason at the Tin Horn Creek Winery.

Note: Son is twelve and has no idea how lucky he is to see a band like WMM at a venue like that. Get a T-shirt, get it autographed, hang with the band at the side of the stage and ask when their next release will be...? There was no standing in line overnight at the nearest TicketMaster outlet (remember those good 'ol days?) No sitting in the nosebleed section of the Pacific Coliseum, or worse, BC Place, staring at a couple of grasshoppers on a matchbox stage. It could be Freddy Mercury. Could be Blue Oyster Cult. Could be Pink Floyd. Could be the janitors with a couple of coloured flashlights and some really big speakers. Who could tell? And how did a skunk get in here?

Anyway, fast forward to yesterday when I was lucky enough to be told I have an unexpected week off work. No, I'm not getting paid. I'm not that lucky. But the weather is gorgeous so this is a gift. I can actually enjoy the summer and my house.

To that end, the first thing I did was spend yesterday in Kelowna, fruitlessly (in Kelowna, I know!) searching for a battery for daughter's cellphone. It's a texting-withdrawl crisis. Then we talked about jumping in the car for a week long trip to jellystone and Old Faithful, but hubby got called into work.

I wasn't devastated. I really do just want to put my feet up and enjoy my deck. Except everywhere I look, a garden needs weeding. Both kids need haircuts and want to visit the library. Son gets to go on an overnight birthday party this weekend, so a present must be purchased, and we're growing desperate for groceries. Day Two of my unscheduled holiday is beginning to look fully scheduled.

No worries. I was all set to quit writing at eleven and pop down for an hour on the beach before running into town, then I remembered Oh yeah, I blog. Better post yet another excuse-riddled essay and so much for updating my website today. (I want to delete the guest book page and change it to 'news'--not that I have any. Just the twitter note that I sent in a full on Sunday, yay me!)

And full disclosure here, this is what my desk really looks like:

This is Dani's brain on deadline. Self-imposed, but I may have shuffled a few things to the back burner while finishing that submission. Note the reference book is only bookmarked about fifty pages in. Yet another To Do item: finish reading it. Man, if I could kick back and read a couple books this week, I'd be in heaven!

However, the rest of the house isn't much better than pictured above. I also noticed a couple days ago that there are boxes in one of the closets that we haven't unpacked since we moved here five years ago. My son's room needs to reflect that he's making the transition from Hot Wheels to iPods. Weren't we going to have a garage sale in the spring and get rid of some stuff? Gads, this garage is out of control.

You know what the trouble with time off is? You have time to think. You get your head above water and realize how far from land you really are. I can't justify sitting on a beach reading a book!

Wait. I'm just gonna have a quick look outside. Maybe it's clouded over.

Yeah, looks like a horrendous day to visit the beach all right. You know what the trouble with looking outside is? You notice how close to the water you really are. I gotta go.

Random Catch Up

2010-07-19T19:13:00.000-07:00

I meant to post the punchline photo of the deer eating the bottom cherries the morning after the bear was in there. The next day the bear was back so we went and told the neighbour below us that Yogi was hanging around. I took a handful of cherries for him to try and he was so appreciative, I expected to see him up there next, a dumbfounded look on his face, stems poking out of his mouth.

Meanwhile, the cat went missing during the whole racoon/bear/cherry tree fiasco and finally showed up stinking of skunk. That's been fun. Cat's don't care for vinegar baths in case you were wondering.

Other stuff keeping me busy.... We went to the Nakusp Music Festival for the Saturday line-up. Sister and her husband came through, we stayed in the bee-hive shaped lodgings in New Denver. They were cute. The weather was hot, hot, hot and the bands were great. We went for the Trews and Corb Lund, but really enjoyed Delhi 2 Dublin. They're a Vancouver band that fuses East Indian sound with Celtic and a bit of hip hop and reggae thrown in. Great energy and the gal shreds her fiddle. Tons of fun.

Not much else but work, write and sleep. Just woke up from an hour's nap! Time for a walk, then I'm writing again. 'Til next time....

Hey You Kids, Get Out Of That Jello Tree

2010-07-09T21:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we had these bandits stealing our exceptional crop of cherries:

Today I heard the rustling and invited our houseguest to come see those wretched raccoons before I turned the garden hose on them and scared them away. Wait a minute, that's not a raccoon!

Okay, you can have 'em.
Note the luscious good-as-store-boughten cherries loading the branches. Grr.

Nothing But Excuses

2010-06-23T19:56:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, still no fresh blogs and I've been home from that silly fieldtrip for weeks. Time keeps getting away from me--quite literally this evening. The power keeps going out and then I reset all the clocks and then it goes out again and I think it's noon all over again.

It's actually a really cool evening. I should be writing, but I decided to pick a few greens from the garden and that turned into about four pounds of strawberries. They've gone ape-sh*t this year. I asked hubby if he put something chemical on them, but he swears it's just compost and good ol' BC rain.

Speaking of which, we're getting plenty here which I know I can't complain about because the rest of the province is under Extreme Forest Fire Watch. I don't mind summer rain here, especially in the evenings. The windows are open, the air is fresh, the thunder rumbles in the distance and the sun keeps peek-a-booing. Birdies are singing and the cat is asleep on the ugly-chair-on-the-deck-that-must-go-to-the-landfill.

Hint, hint to hubby who never reads this.

So I got distracted with washing and paring the strawberries so I can freeze them for jam (which will get made just as soon as those wondrous people at Mac invent an app that'll clone me. Or make jam. I'm not fussy.) I've got the birdies and the thunder and the rain and low beat of Los Lobos Kiko (thank you, John. It's gotta be a decade since you gave me this CD and I still play it all summer long with the Chris Isaac Baja Sessions one.)

Life is about perfect and to prove it, I looked up and this is what I saw.

This is the view from our kitchen sink window and yes, the deck where said cat and ugly chair are sleeping. I know. My life does not suck. If the chair wasn't so covered in cat hair, I'd dislodge the animal and snooze there myself.

Anyway, these are the extremely urgent, life-altering distractions keeping me from blogging more frequently.

Big thunder just shook the house. I don't have to reset the clocks this time, but the internet connection is bound to disappear soon. Take care.

Field Trip - Day Four

2010-06-16T21:55:00.000-07:00

Or
Teachers Don't Get Paid Enough

I'm not just saying that to be teacher's pet. I doubt they'll even read this blog. No, I say it because it's true. Sure a teacher's hours look good on paper, but I saw them writing report cards at six in the morning before waking those kids for active days they had to lead.

Every activity we did had a lesson plan worksheet that had to be filled out by the students. Those pages weren't pulled together at the last minute. They were researched ahead of time and outside of classroom teaching time. We had a stellar group of students with us, but I know from gossiping with other parents that not every classroom is created equal. Behaviour issues arise.

I'll grant you that not every teacher is created equal either and that I'm spoiled because all of my kids teachers have been fantastic, but I know teaching is mostly a thankless job. Teachers deserve more respect than they often get, is what I'm saying. Their dedication needs to be acknowledged.

Other lessons learned? That drive from the coast to the interior isn't as gruelling when you sleep away a good portion of it--but that will be hard when I'm behind the wheel. The truck scale has an outhouse, but it's disgusting. My son has a lot of really great friends, male and female, but they're his friends, not mine. He's building his own little independent world just like my daughter did and it's healthy and good.

I asked him if it was okay that I went. He shrugged. It was fine, but I don't have to rush to put my name in for the next one. Feel the love.

Maybe I'll start following the cat around. He could probably use some pointers on mousing. Some pick-me-up words when he's feeling discouraged about a chickadee that got away...

Lazy piece of fur didn't even notice I was gone.

Field Trip - Day Three

2010-06-15T21:08:00.000-07:00

Or
No Workout This Morning. Strange.

Okay, I had learned my lesson after the first day. We walk plenty all day without worrying about getting another half-kilometer in before breakfast. Plus, I was carrying a ten pound laptop bag everywhere so I could access my lip balm at a moment's notice. Honestly. Such a good idea to bring it.

We had breakfast in the campus cafeteria and headed out for ocean study. I have to say I was thrilled to note that British Columbia's shorelines are not all dead zones. I was under the impression everything had been fished to extinction, but there were plenty of baby crabs and snails for the children to torture. I spent an hour stalking my son, attempting to get one photo of him that wasn't a Get Lost scowl. (Stalking the ever-elusive Hostilis Pre-Teenicus.)

I've been to the BC Museum several times in my life and the biggest change I noted there was that they now charge for admission (although checking my laptop was by donation. It was worth it.)

The kids had specific questions to answer there, so that gave us purpose and a reason to regularly round everyone up. I like Old Town, but I'm also a sucker for the diorama of the Haida village. It was interesting, but I was starting to fade. My group finished early, so I let them loose in the gift shop and went next door to the coffee counter. I knew we'd probably find a coffee over lunch, but I was in dire need of a pick-me-up. I ordered an espresso. No, make it a double shot. I have a headache.

"You're with a school group?" the gal asked. "I'll give you four."

We ate lunch in the sun, which was a refreshing surprise, then walked to the Legislature. When I was a kid, I remember moving silently into the gallery and listening to some boring debate below, but the chamber was empty. Apparently, our government doesn't sit anymore. They're afraid the entire province is going to show up waving pitchforks, demanding a retraction of the HST.

After the Legislature, it was time for the bug zoo. The bug zoo is amazing in a lose your lunch sort of way. No, I didn't hold anything. I pointed at a stick bug and accidentally dislodged one that had escaped and was sitting on the outside of the window. It dropped onto the pile of bags below, which included my laptop bag. We were five minutes into the presentation and I was wigged out and ready to leave. I wasn't the only one.

On the plus side, I learned there's such a thing as a cellar spider, which resembles a black widow without the red markings. Cellar spiders are harmless, so hubby can quit saying they're undercover or immature and stop killing them.

From the bug zoo we went on to Craigdarroch Castle. Are you exhausted yet? I was. Craigdarroch Castle was built by coal baron Robert Dunsmuir and proves that the more things change, the more they stay the same. He died before the house was completed. His wife continued to manage the business while his children partied their tails off in the billiards room and dance hall. Twenty years old and home from college, they hosted many 'at homes.' Nevertheless, it was very cool and I could have spent a lot longer there, but children don't have that kind of attention span. They were hungry for Spaghetti Factory.

Oddly enough, at the Spaghetti Factory we had our choice of six types of spaghetti. Even more odd, every single adult looked longingly at the bar, at the table tents of wine and cocktails, at the pints of beer with the thick heads and even at the empty margarita glass with the messy salt on the rim. We were all feeling a little frayed.

However, it was nothing a plateful of carbs and a glass of pop couldn't fix. We stuffed ourselves and walked back to the Museum for the Imax. Avatar was only in 2D, not 3D, but it was still seven stories tall. We were in Pandora for two and a half hours.

Afterward, someone said, "Just think, tomorrow, after twelve hours, we'll still be on the bus." I thought, "Bliss!" I couldn't wait for my head to hit the pillow. As we walked back to the dorms, the over-excited children had to be reminded that even though the university was on summer break, there were still students here studying, people working, and other school groups trying to sleep. We had to respect that and keep our voices down.

We skipped the bulletin by the busdriver's son, got kids and ourselves tucked in, and I was just drifting off when party music erupted outside our windows. I flew to the window to see what was the clatter and saw a wedding or something in full progress spilling into the courtyard below. YMCA. People dancing in a train. Where the heck did they think they were? College?

I got back into bed, so tired yet so unable to sleep while the B52's sang about their Loveshack baby where we could get to-ge-ther. I whimpered. I wanted to go home.

Perhaps one of the stricter chaperones from one of the other school groups walked over and had a word with the festive group. They closed their doors, the noise receded, and I slept.

Field Trip - Day Two

2010-06-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

Or
"He's The Bus Driver's Son" and Other Evidence That I'm Not Cool

So, as I said, I didn't realize there is a philosophy on these field trips whereby they don't give the children any downtime to get into trouble. By extension, this means parents can't get into trouble either, except when they decide to go jogging first thing in the morning and can't find their way back to the dorm. Fortunately, our male counterparts were out hunting coffee.

(It only took until the end of the trip for all of us to know how to order enough coffee with creams and sugars, but each and every effort was highly appreciated by all.)

Anyway, spending the first hour of the day doing anything but sleep was a bad move. We had a big day, hitting the aquarium first, which I will go on record as saying was cooler when there were killer whales there. I know, I know, but I still wished the kids could have experienced standing in the viewing area below while the bulk of an orca breached and slammed into the surface of the water, causing shock waves against the windows that make your heart stop. That's what I remember about my field trip from when I was a kid.

Having said that, there was plenty of cool stuff. The otters are always a kick and the other beluga had had her baby, so that was cute. We had a bag lunch there and took off to Science World.

Now, one of the teachers had confided in me beforehand that she arranges to meet her sister during the Imax in Victoria. They eat popcorn and visit while everyone else is inside the theatre, giving her a much needed break.

I therefore took it upon myself to 'accidentally' bump into my sister at Science World. As I left the bus, I asked the driver if my laptop would be secure with him. No, he said, he was meeting his son for lunch. Sure enough, there was a well-dressed fellow waiting near my sister when I disembarked the schoolbus. She said, "Is it really okay that I'm here?" I said, sure it was. "This is the busdriver's son, meeting him for lunch. We're all meeting family here."

The fellow offered a polite smile and said, "It's a good meeting place."

Later, as the kids were all learning about simple machines, and sis and I were gagging on Science World coffee, she said, "That guy outside is on TV, right?" Huh? "Yeah, he's an anchorman on the news, isn't he? I was looking for cameras, wondering what he was doing there. I didn't realize he was waiting for you guys," she said.

I asked the teachers later and yes, he is a well-known anchor, one whose name I recognized once I heard it. But being the 'cool' parent on the trip, I called him to his face, "The busdriver's son."

Sis left before the movie at Science World, giving me a chance to surf Tahiti before we caught the skytrain to Waterfront and the Canada Line to Richmond. Standing room only on the trains. It was rush hour. The teachers prepped us ahead of time, perhaps terrifying us for their own enjoyment, with stories of parents being separated from the group on crowded trains. You'd think I was six, I was so scared of being left behind--with five kids. Wouldn't you be?

We ate at the ferry terminal, arrived at the dorms, chased the bunnies... There is a serious bunny problem at UVic. I'd heard tell, but you really have to see it to believe it. Kids were tucked, lights went out, and we all gathered in the common room to watch the late news--delivered by the busdriver's son.

Field Trip - Day One

2010-06-13T08:06:00.000-07:00

Or
Are We There Yet?

Okay, I lied. I'm not chronicling this during the actual trip. I didn't have time. I made a few very brief notes and drank a lot of coffee, but only wrote about a thousand words while I was gone and that was on my WIP for Presents. I was tired. Get off my back.

Also, I have to mention that I have zero permission to share details of any of the children's experiences on this trip. Therefore, I can only talk about my own. However, I would like to put before the court that the experience of a chaperone on a field trip is not the universal experience that a student field trip is. Most of us can recall our first trip to a museum where we had to hold hands with our best friend, couldn't hear the boring guy at the front, had to sit with the boy who smells like stale pee... You know what I mean.

What I offer is the fresh view of a grown up surrounded by kids who have been temporarily detached from their umbilical cords. I would love to share what happens to teachers when they're going on ninety-six hours of being at work, but what goes on the road stays on the road. We had to sign secrecy agreements and everything.

The trip got off to a typical start: a faint feeling of nausea, a motion sick tablet, a nap, then a picnic lunch in lousy weather. In our family, when we make this trip, I usually win the Betsy Wetsy award for most unscheduled stops, but I eschewed liquids and made it to the lower mainland without costing us extra time we couldn't afford.

We had some good laughs in the parent section, but I was already missing my daughter by the time we arrived, so I texted her. (Yes, that's mother with an 's' -- smother. What's your point?) The children had strict orders not to bring their cellphones for exactly this reason and because we were in city traffic, had been told to sit straight and pay attention. I got in trouble for texting so I kept it low in my lap, which my daughter praised me for "You're texting like my generation--under your desk." But then she told me to look out the window. "You're texting more than I do. I'm stopping now."

I just wanted to know she got home from school okay. Sheesh.

We settled in our dorms, dressed for a nice dinner (Japanese Grill) and went to the swimming pool after. I didn't get into a bathing suit. I went to the gym and led another mom in pilates, then watched my son pace the high dive platform until he worked up the courage to leap just as they closed the pool.

We got everyone tucked in and us moms made plans to set our alarms to get up early and walk. This is the enthusiasm of a neophyte. Had I been on any other field trips, I would have known to pace myself.

Read on to Day Two, dear reader.

Let's Go On A Fieldtrip

2010-06-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

Or
It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time

The elementary school here has a tradition of taking their classes on big field trips. Not just a day at the zoo, but for overnight trips of three to four days. We had, in fact, only been in town a week when my daughter came home with the news that she was leaving for a week to a far off town with her class.

Send my then ten year old away for a week with a bunch of strangers? I don't think so! But before I could begin to enquire about childcare for my son, my daughter informed me that I wasn't invited. "Mom. The whole point is to get away from your parents and be independent. I can't really do that with you there."

She's always been articulate. It's my cross to bear that I ever taught her to speak at all.

I swallowed back my reservations and retracted the umbilical cord. She left and she came back and she loved it. As subsequent trips came up through the ensuing years, she made it clear I was not to volunteer as chaperone. I could stick to the year end pancake breakfast and go to Parent Advisory Meetings, but I had to stay off that school bus.

My son was soon on board with that. In those early years, he only went on daytrips, but through grades four and five he went away for the longer trips and suddenly he was going into Grade Six and I realized I only had two chances left to experience these field trips. I decided to skip the part where I actually ask my child's permission to chaperone and put my name in.

Now, anyone who knows me can tell you I moan and whine and grouse every time I have to make a trip to Vancouver so I don't know what possessed me to put in for this one. I think it was the knowledge that the next trip--my very last chance to field trip with the kids--involves tents. This one, I knew, would at least be real beds in dormitories.

Lucky me, I was chosen. Which instilled immediate panic because I suddenly realized what I was doing. Going To Vancouver. Again. Argh!

Meanwhile, my son suddenly realized what I was doing. Going On A Fieldtrip. With Him. He gave me The Look--the one that appears to be an ice cream headache shudder, but is really an attempt to make your mother spontaneously catch fire.

It gets better. The trip actually includes a visit to our Legislature, which means adding in ferry travel as we go that little further distance to Victoria. What that means is, the last day is a happy little thirteen hour jaunt on a school bus home.

I did the only thing a self-respecting writer could do: I bought a two thousand dollar laptop so I could record the trip in detail. Please follow along over the next few days as I chronicle the adventure.

Can't Get No Respect

2010-06-02T19:08:00.000-07:00

So it's my day job to produce policy and procedure manuals and yesterday I reached a milestone with one. I sent out an email (as per procedure) stating something along the lines of:

"This manual was recently reviewed. You can view it by following this link."

The response via email this morning from a workmate? "Who cares??!!?? (just kidding)"

She wasn't. Not really. I know the work I produce there is not exactly riveting. No one browses my work titles and asks, "May I borrow this? Gosh, I've been waiting forever for it."

It doesn't bother me. Writing romance isn't exactly the quickest route to earning admiration and respect either. Oh, I know if I actually sold a book I'd get a few impressed nods and hopefully an enthused readership among the already converted, but at this point my romance readership is about as far-reaching as my P&P readership, which is to say virtually non-existent. Only people being paid to read are making the effort.

My only genuine audience is here - All eighteen of you hearty souls. Have I thanked you lately? :)
I thought I'd better. You keep me from feeling like the proverbial tree in the forest.

Thank you, Dear Readers. You make me feel like someone cares :)

Viscous Dishwashing Liquid

2010-05-30T15:07:00.000-07:00

Or
The new Chrissy Snow Thigh Master.

A random title for a random blog. Somewhere in this house I have a list of topics I've been meaning to turn into intelligible blogs. Life has been a little out of control lately, though. I keep thinking that if I can just make it thru June, and the kids are out of school, I'll magically be back in action. I know. I really am the Queen of Self-Delusion.

Anyway, the title came to me as I was attempting to put dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher last night. This particular brand is extremely thick. It won't come out of the bottle unless I hold it between my knees and squeeze it like a thigh master, plus say a few magic (ie four-letter) words. These are the important things eating up my time and keeping me from blogging.

And speaking of blogging, many of you must be wondering how one makes money on writing a free column about books that are unpublished and therefore unavailable for purchase. In the words of the late, great Phil Hartman: "Volume." (see: Change Bank.)

No, what's really been keeping me busy is this little metal monkey I've purchased. A neat little toy that, like a newborn, requires a lot of attention. The first night I was setting it up, I got to the part in the manual that said, "Caring for your new Mac" and read it aloud for the family as, "The care and feeding of your new Mac." I'm silly that way.

My children don't fall too far from the tree. Daughter responded with, "Remember to care and feed yourself." Yes, these little machines do become an obsession. Meanwhile, as I was carrying it up to my office that night, my son asked if I was taking it to bed with me. I said yes, and that I would sleep with it under my pillow so no one would take it. He said, "The laptop fairies might, and leave you a quarter."

I know. He cracks me up. I'm supposed to embarrass, I mean accompany him on a field trip soon. I was asking him how excited he was about it and he gave me a very sarcastic and giggle filled, "You have no idea how excited I am that you're coming. I can't even say it with a straight face."

Oh, and one more one-liner that I recently enjoyed, this one a quote from Winston Churchill:

"The secret of success is learning to go from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm."

Kind of the way I blog. Sporadic and with forgettable content, but I do it with verve. :)

Will now spend three minutes trying to figure out how to add that wordcounter thing, then must run out to pick up daughter's friend, visit Mom, start dinner.... In case I fail at the wordcounter - I'm somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 words today. I know. I totally rock.

Howdya Like Me Now?

2010-05-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

First official blog written on the new Mac. Got it Thursday and it's taken me until today to get this far. Lotsa set up required :)

But it's fun. It's just that I now have bottle drive for three hours and am chomping at the bit to finish a manuscript - only 36,000 words to go! Not kidding.

But I was at Ladies' Nite last night and a friend mentioned her daughter is reading my blog, so now I owe her a shout out.

Nomi, writing is a mental illness, but if you are afflicted, you make time in your day, sit down and do it. Often it's work. I enjoy sitting on the couch watching movies as much as the next guy. I'm most motivated to write on days like today, when I've got a million distractions--a bottle drive and a new computer to figure out. The bottom line is though, you have to choose to make time to write.

This morning I came 'this close' to choosing to work on the old system, just to get my word count out, but I spent an hour transferring the files I need so when I come back this afternoon, all will be ready and waiting for me here on the Mac. Of course, by then it will be sunny and gorgeous and I'll think about gardening--another distraction.

Honestly, Nomi, it's way easier NOT to write than it is to write, but if you have people and stories in your head, if you enjoy being creative, if you have opinions you want to clarify for yourself... writing is for you.

Just sit down and do it. Don't wait for anyone to give you permission. Think of it like a muscle - the more you do it the better and stronger you get. And let me know how it goes--I liked those other pieces you sent me. I'd love to see more.

Now must run. I bet my husband is going to expect me to cook dinner tonight, too. Seriously, if he'd read my blog, he'd know I have 36000 words to manufacture! I want to add one of those little count down widgets to my website, but how am I supposed to fit that into my day when I'm already late for the bottle drive?!?

Gah. Have a good one and I promise meatier blogs soon as I get all the kinks worked out of my new system. Cheers,
d

Internet and Carbon Footprints Oh My!

2010-05-23T22:15:00.000-07:00

First of all, the internet is giving us problems again. This is how it goes. I call Bangladesh (I'm guessing) and tell them we need a dedicated line for the internet. They say the cable guy will need access to the house. Duh.

I say he has to wait until Thursday because we both work and that's the first weekday that hubby will be home. They say that's fine because that's the first day they have appointments free. No, they can't say what time. They're the cable company. They don't have to tell you what time.

They leave a note on our door on Monday, three days EARLY saying, "We're sorry we missed you. Please call Bangladesh again if you want to reschedule."

Curse you, Shaw Cable Company!!!!

Now that I've got that off my chest...

And speaking of Bangladesh...

I've been tracing my MacBook Pro, internet permitting. It started in Shanghai--the one in China. It went to Osaka, Anchorage Alaska--wait for it--Louisville, KY, Buffalo, NY, Ontario, Winnipeg, Calgary and was last seen in Richmond.

I'm starting to think paying the fuel to drive to Kelowna might have been easier on my conscience.

It's supposed to be here Tuesday. Perhaps the Cable Guy can sign for it.

And yes, I know I've been off the air. Read the above about the internet, but I've also been busy writing. Books, not blogs. I have a fantasy that once the laptop arrives, it'll write my blogs for me. I know. I wish myself good luck with that.

Okay, really must do pilates. Gardening and writing is good for the soul, but not for the back.

Cheers and think positive thoughts that the cable company will be kind to us.

Home Again Home Again

2010-05-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

Jiggety Jig

Just got home. In keeping with internet protocol, I did not announce that I was out of town all weekend. Had an 80th birthday to attend. It was lovely thanks. Good cake.

And now I'm so far behind I think I'm out in front. I keep telling myself that this coming weekend, the LONG weekend, I'll get caught up. We'll see. I'll have that new Macbook burning a hole in my desk so I may be distracted. :) But I did start writing a blog on my old Neo and made some notes with the kids in the car. Nothing brings a family together like a conversation on unusual bathroom habits.

Meanwhile, I have laundry on the go, a kitchen to clean, many miles to go before I sleep. And sonny-boy is in performances all week - The Adamms Family. He's the witch doctor. I'll leave you with that beloved tune firmly crammed inside your ear.

You're welcome. Have a great week.

Me

I know, I know

2010-05-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

Nothing since Mother's Day? What's up with that?

Houseguests who kept me up way past my bedtime on a school night, some writing stuff I had to get out the door and an order has been placed for a MacBook Pro. Thank you to the nice people at American Express. Now I just need to figure out how to make the laptop print to the serial port HP 5L that has been my workhorse amazing printer since before my daughter was born. Not kidding.

Anyway, busy busy and miles to go before I sleep, but will catch up here hopefully over the weekend.

Cheers,
Dani

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-09T08:27:00.003-07:00

It's 7:25 am on Mother's Day. Do you know where this Mother is? Writing, of course.

Girl-child told me the other day that she had read an article directed at new fathers and it suggested three things to ensure they were good fathers. One of them was accessibility. She couldn't remember the other two.

We talked a bit about how hard it is for a kid to catch up to Dad if he's a workaholic, or goes fishing or even just spends his spare time under the car. This made me examine my own accessibility, particularly my habit of hiding behind a computer screen for the entire lives of my children.

Girl-child didn't think it was an issue. "You're still there, Mom." Like the television. Click on the food channel and something edible will appear. Kind of. One of my kids is a picky eater. I won't say which one HE is, but last night was a good example. At least he's learned to simply say, "I'm not that hungry." And, "Thanks for dinner, Mom." Then he has a bowl of cereal while cleaning the kitchen. He's cooking tomorrow, by the way. I may not be that hungry by then, but I'll try to remember my manners.

Anyway, I forgot it was Mother's Day until I checked my email while waiting for the kettle and had a message that someone else was blogging about Mommy's Day. All I was really thinking about was getting my butt in the chair and accomplishing something, but I'm feeling a bit scatterbrained on the writing front these days (as opposed to simply being scatterbrained across the board.)

So I wasn't sure what I'd be working on when I got upstairs, but I know I'm behind on writing my blogs. I knew I would fall behind when I started, so please be kind. This sort of genius doesn't just pour out, you know. And now that I'm here, I'm wondering what kind of mother I am that I'm writing a blog rather than interacting with my kids.

Do I play the "It's Mother's Day, I Can Do What I Want" card? Or the "Cherish These Moments For They Will Be Gone Soon" card. Both are stained heavily with guilt.

Let's see. If the goal is a happy mother, we need to go with the first option. I'm a miserable cow when I don't write. And let's be serious. Do kids really leave home these days? No. They're buzzing like flies on poop for years. The days of having them around are not numbered that low.

Therefore, I'm allowed to write.

But like I say, I'm having trouble figuring out what to writeI don't mean writer's block. It's more like writer's cram. I'm full of ideas and literally am not in this chair often enough to throw everything onto a page. Too many options.

I just finished a partial, but I need to let it sit a few days and perk, then have another quick peek before pushing it out the door.

I mentioned before about the young adult story the kids want me to write. That's on top of the one I started with my daughter two years ago and never got past the first few pages. She named all the characters, helped me sketch a basic premise and worked out the rules in the imaginary world, then left the easy part--the writing--to me.

I have two manuscripts I'm anxious to rewrite because I know where I want to submit them. Oh, and I really should get the rest of the story written for that partial I just finished. If they like it, they like you to have the rest of the book. If they don't like it, it's good practice. (I'm told. Shoot me now.)

So I'm sitting here wondering which way to jump, the sun is on my back and the thought, Today would be a great day to start the garden, drifts through my mind.

See any sign of kids in that? I never do. They hate pulling weeds. Of course I do have that lovely, "It's Mother's Day So You Have To" card in my pocket. Nothing says "I love my Mom" like buckling in for her lengthy guilt-trip, right?

The fact is, I mostly think Mother's Day is just one more day designated by Hallmark to kill a tree. I don't feel a need to present myself so my kids can appreciate me. They show me the love often enough and if they don't, I make them. They say, "Thanks for dinner" even when they didn't like it and "You're still there, Mom," even though I only feel half-there.

(I will, however, show up to my own mother's house this evening for the dinner she's offered to cook. Wait. Was I supposed to cook? You'd think so, but my son's picky eating came from someone's DNA and she'd rather eat her own cooking than mine--just like him. Coincidentally, son is quite excited to be eating at Grandma's tonight. He always eats well there.)

Meanwhile, I'm going to post this then dig into some kind of serious writing. Right after I check in with the kids. It's Sunday. Maybe they'd like pancakes.

Cable Guy

2010-05-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

Cable guy is coming to fix the internet problem. Of course we have to wait until next week, but it will be on the New Moon, so I'm sure will be highly successful and I shall never whimper again.

Also got some old RRSP business in the process of sorting out...I'm sure I'll see resolution sometime around the New Moon then, too. I hate sorting out money stuff, mostly because I have to answer to hubby for it. Of course, whenever he gets too heated, I offer to hand the chore over to him. It's amazing how quickly that resolves conflicts over how the money is being handled.

Which of course leads to the question: What money?

It's Friday. I really should knock off worrying about all this and just have a glass of wine already. I was trying to be a good girl and wait. My girlfriend who borrowed several of my favorite DVD's has agreed to return them for a ransom of a glass of red. I'll just open it and start it breathing.

Like me.

Happy Friday

Argh

2010-05-06T20:36:00.000-07:00

Why am I trying to resolve internet problems while Mercury is retrograde? Still can't leave comments on my own blog or anyone else's. On a bright note, I see by other forum posts that many others can't either, so I don't feel alone in my misery.

I told someone today that Mercury was getting the blame for all my frustrations and she thought that was rather negative. So I'm trying to concentrate on what Mercury Retrograde is good for: Rewriting, Revising, Finishing, Researching...

Yes, I was hoping 'Resolving' but I think I'll have to wait for the New Moon on the 13th for that...

Meanwhile, will try to get some decent blogs written this weekend.

Cheers,

Dani

Becoming a Man

2010-05-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

How Do You Like Girls Now?

My son dragged me to the garage sale down the street last week. Boy did I make him sorry. I bought a computer desk. We've needed a new one for a while and I promised him the old one. He was excited. I was excited.

Then it arrived and we had to figure out where to put it. Hubby got out the tape measure and I got out my bossy hat. A short time later, my boy became a man. He moved his first sofa.

A few hours yet later, after sweat had broken and vacuuming had raised dust to stick to said sweat, the young man said, "This sucks."

His wise father said, "Get used to it, son. You get married and every few years--no one knows why--but your wife will want to rearrange the furniture. It's one of the great mysteries of the universe."

Yes, it's true and I get extremely uptight--E.X.T.R.E.M.L.Y. U.P.T.I.G.H.T--if furniture is moved in my absence. Hubby often thinks he's being helpful by "getting it done." I took a few minutes to examine why this puts me over the edge.

The thing is, generally when I want to move furniture, I want to wind up with a space which ultimately pleases me. I approach it in a creative manner to that end. I want to devote time to it the way anyone might spend time being creative. (A writer who enjoys being creative--go figure.)

So when hubby just throws a desk in a corner to get it out of the way, I feel not just dismayed with the result, but I feel robbed of a creative experience.

Pity the fool who does such a thing to me.

And this, I think, is where many men get themselves into trouble. I will grant you that there is not an artful way to take out the garbage, but there is an artful way to arrange books on a shelf or remotes on a coffee table. Many of us ladies want to find it. We would love it if it stayed that way. Living art becomes draining.

And I think this is why men start refusing to go to garage sales or antiquing with their wives. Moving furniture is also draining.

"Hey, bud, there's a garage sale this weekend. Wanna go?"

"No, thanks."

Yep, he's a man.

All-Day Kindergarten

2010-05-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

Last One In School! Finally!

My sister and her husband recently did a four-day weekend as primary caregivers to a friend's kindergartener and toddler. Sister writes me an email on the Monday. "What's the point of half-day kindergarten? I just dropped him off and now I have to run out to get him again. What can you get done in 2.5 hours?!"

I think she's the only caregiver in the history of caregiving to bemoan the half-day kindergarten. Followed by the one lonely voice who asked aloud why preschool is only three days a week. (That was me, back in the day.)

Parenting is hard. I needed a break when the kids were little. We all need a break. When you're working half-time or full-time on top of parenting, you're half-dead or full-crazy. You live for that two-point-five hours (less walking or driving time that you can call your own. (You know, when you focus on yourself for a bit--while you walk the dog, get the groceries, start supper, do a load of wash, scrub a toilet and make cupcakes for someone's birthday party.)

And, if you are working full-time from the minute your EI runs out, you're counting on that two-point-five hours when you can call your income your own and not pay it to childcare.

So I totally understand the point of view that half of BC's four and five year olds are already in childcare fulltime, therefore putting them in school only makes sense.

I've heard this was coming and had mixed thoughts. When our kids were preschoolers, we were able to swing our shifts so we didn't have to pay for daycare. It was hard on our sleep and the marriage, but I always felt that if the kids were going to wind up in therapy some day, I wanted it to be my fault, not the babysitter's. I'm self-centered that way.

So I read with interest The Province article on Wed April 28 "Get kids learning early, or pay later, say experts." It basically says a bunch of experts studied 140,000 children over ten years and the 'vulnerable' children wound up more likely to enter the criminal justice system. 'Vulnerable' children are kids who come up short on a number of tests measuring physical, social, emotional and language skills.

Okay, what are we saying here? Kids with problems need to be caught early. Their problems need to be addressed so they have a better chance to overcome them. The way to identify kids with problems and get them the help they need is to put them in school early--at four years old.

Wow. Where's mom and dad in this?

This is exactly where I was going yesterday with Jon Ferry's column. He's busy saying that the school board is unloading "extra child-minding duties" onto parents. The early-learning advocates are saying (I'm paraphrasing) "The vulnerable kids aren't getting enough help at home; we need to bring them into the schools to make it happen."

I understand there is a percentage of children for whom school is the only safe place. Their home life might be one of neglect or violence or drug abuse. Coming to school allows them to feel physically safe and maybe get their only meal of the day. Studies that tell the government to put kids in school at four-years-old are pointing at those kids specifically.

I'm down with that and I don't even mind paying extra taxes for it. Seriously. There's a quote about the measure of a society being how it treats its most vulnerable. I'm too tired to look it up, but I agree with it. At the same time, I'm the mom who wants to be the primary influence in her children's lives (just a little bit above Dad. Don't tell him I said that.)

But where does this new model of education fit with parents like me? Who don't feel stuck with their kids, they actually want to, you know, spend time with them? We're supposed to put them on a bus at four-years-old anyway?

It's such a far cry from back in the day, when kids didn't go to school until they were six or seven and were allowed to just play. However, society wasn't turning out the most enlightened generation at that point either.

I agree that education is a good thing. It's empowering. It's something you always get to keep. No one can ever take it from you.

But still...what do you think? Is it all about a good start for the kids? Or a way to offer daycare relief to parents who have to work?

Parents Stuck Child-minding

2010-05-02T08:00:00.000-07:00

I think that's called parenting, Jon

I spent a few quality minutes with The Province Wednesday Apr 28th, after throwing a drumstick and some pre-fab hashbrowns at the one member of the family who had found his way home.

I buy the paper more frequently than anyone in this family can read through it. I go first to the horoscope (surprise!) then I read the comics I like. I skip lots, but always read Sherman and Dilbert. Then I go to the front of the Entertainment section to catch up on Brangelina and Lindsay and the rest of the gang. Finally, if time permits, I head to the editorial section where real news turns up and is not only encapsulated, but tells me what to think of it.

If I'm eating slowly enough, I then close the paper and start at the front page. This is how I wound up reading Jon Ferry today (Wednesday Apr 28.) I like Jon. I've read him in the past when I've had a second helping and made it this far into the paper. However, today he got my goat.

He writes a very informative column about the crisis that education has fallen into with funding cutbacks that mean a lot of fat-trimming at the school level and often little at the administration level. I agree with him that a royal commission is overdue.

However, in taking the Vancouver School Board to task, he writes that the school board's approach merely "off-loads the funding problem onto already-overtaxed parents, who now are stuck with extra child-minding duties." (Italics are mine.)

I used to wonder if columnists deliberately seed their work with inflammatory comments like this to see if they get a rise out of the readership. Consider me arisen, Jon.

First, I totally agree with the financial side of it. I am a tax-paying parent and I am reluctant to take on further tax burdens. But the burden of child-minding?

Taken in its best light, his comment could mean that parents are now burdened with trying to find child-care for the extra week of Spring Break etc. If so, say "child-minding expenses," because there's no "extra" when it comes to "child-minding duties." Parenting is twenty-four, seven. Delegate all you want, but you're still on duty. You're it.

Which brings me to the other half of the column I take issue with--the bit where he compares the quality of education in a private school to one in the public school system.

"The class discipline was better, the parents more engaged and the teachers worked harder to ensure each student's talents were developed. Also, there wasn't all that left-wing brain-washing."

Okay, not sure what he means with the left-wing brain-washing comment. Perhaps I'm guilty of it for standing by the public school system, which strives to ensure that every Canadian child receives some kind of standardized education. Perhaps he thinks only rich kids deserve to learn their ABC's, but I think every kid deserves a shot. I'm left-wingy that way.

And since the public system serves every child, no matter their potential, background, native language, or physical or mental struggles, the public system sometimes struggles to achieve its objective.

I used to live on the coast and my kids were in a public school of five hundred kids. It was a nice school and some bigwig came by and said so. The principal at the time said, "Of course it is. Look at the neighborhood." Lots of nice homes. Lots of two-parent families, many of them dual income. Many of the parents were well-educated and they engaged at the school level because they engaged with their children. That's the kind of people they were. They took their parenting duties seriously.

I'm not arguing that private schools have more to offer, but I think they receive more in the way of engaged parents and disciplined, naturally talented children. Therefore, it's grossly unfair to suggest that private schools offer much-need competition to public schools when it's not a level playing field. Private schools aren't shouldering social problems the way public ones are.

Case in point: parents (according to Jon Ferry) have to take on extra child-minding duties when the school shuts its doors for a couple of extra days. Whether he's arguing that parents shouldn't be shouldered with extra time with their kids or extra costs for daycare, the fact remains, neither of those things has anything to do with education.

I'm running long here and will address another angle of this in a day or two with "All-Day Kindergarten," but the bottom line here is that school isn't a babysitting service. About six years ago, here in School District 51, the school week went to four days. Everyone freaked and you can still find pockets of people arguing that daycare is an issue on Fridays, but the majority of families love it. I do.

Having an extra day each week with your kids--or one week a year for the Vancouver families--isn't a punishment, Jon. Here's a thought: Take that week as vacation and spend it with your kids.

Tired...

2010-04-29T20:21:00.000-07:00

I have a couple posts half -written. They were supposed to get posted last night but as usual time is escaping me. Will get them up by the weekend, promise.

Yawn...
cheers all,
d

Selfish Teenager

2010-04-25T19:50:00.000-07:00

Or
Selfish Mom?

Oh the delightful sound of stomping feet up the stairs and a door firmly slamming. I'm going to miss that in three years, seven weeks, four days and thirteen hours.

Funny how I've been putting off this blog 'til I had time and after I very politely asked for one hour on the computer and fifteen minutes of cleaning up supper dishes I was rewarded with new motivation and material.

I originally began thinking about this topic when I was talking with another mom about her son. (NOT gossiping!) She didn't give me any details, just explained that it was Tough Love Week at her house. Things had been locked down and locked up. Steps had been taken. Phone calls to friends parents had been made. "He's just being so selfish," my mom friend said.

I've long thought the role of unpleasantness in the average North American teenager is to get themselves kicked out of the nest. I'm a clingy mom, but there are days when the umbilical cord gets frayed and I know that's necessary. Moms like me don't want to let go. We have to be mad enough to shove.

At the same time, I learned a long time ago that often the most aggravating behavior in my kids is a reflection of what I'm showing them. Yes, I did tell them to shut up last Tuesday. Not a big surprise that I'm hearing it back at me now. A single 'no' can come back in an exponential plague. Can I go to my friends? No, clean your room.

No.

I've learned to reverse that exchange. Can I go to my friends? (Answer with a question.) Have you cleaned your room? No.

Now my 'no' is totally justified. I'm sneaky like that.

Of course, that comes back on me. Can I go to my friends? Have you cleaned your room? Did you get the vacuum fixed?

Rats.

They're copycats, these little eating machines we've created. That's why I don't think they invent difficult traits all by themselves. Think about it. As they get old enough to empty a dishwasher, keep track of their own iPod and make up their own mind as to whether they need a jacket, we tell them to do so. After all, we've put in ten or twelve years of toting diaper bags and making bag lunches. We're darned ready for a break.

And they start to notice that the clean socks don't magically appear in the drawer. We're not there in the same way we used to be. Sure, friends and parents of friends are helpful, but the only person they can truly count on--they begin to learn--is themselves. Taking care of number one becomes a huge priority.

They become selfish, but it's a necessary instinct we provoke to ensure their survival.

Why yes, I am the only person who could make turning out a selfish teenager into a credit to my parenting skills.

I'm also the mom who behaved like a martyr over a couple of unwashed pots. I'd go apologize, but I've already been punished.

"Mom, here's that itinerary for my field trip."

The overnight one.

Is it selfish of me to want to say no?

No Pressure

2010-04-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

On Easter Sunday, there was a twitter post from an agent saying she'd take queries on Young Adult novels for ONE HOUR. This is how busy these people are. They virtually never open their doors to aspiring writers.

I made a comment to the kids about it and one said, "You could write a Young Adult novel, Mom." Not in one hour I couldn't. Still, the idea began to perc and last night I ran it by my son when I had him trapped in the car without any other distractions. He was a little cool on the project and recommended I ask the girls in his class, not him. He's a big reader, but apparently not of what amounts to a romance novel for pre-adolescent females.

Nevertheless, a few hours later, I overheard him talking to his big sister. "You know what Mom's doing? Listen. It's important." Awww. He WAS listening. "Mom's writing a book about..."

"Wait!" I didn't say I was writing it. I said I had an idea and wondered if you thought it had any potential.

Well, we sat around for another hour, the three of us, brainstorming this idea. It was a lot of fun and got the nod from both of them. Yes, it does have potential.

Great. Now all I have to do is write it.

Honestly, there is every chance you'll see pages of it popping up here because I don't know how else I'd make it happen. So much for building an audience of romance readers prior to publishing.

Although, given how long that process seems to be taking me, gathering a following of pre-teens now might turn into a following of middle-aged readers by the time I actually sell an adult novel.

And no, I'm not going to tell you what it's about. I'm still thinking.

Comments

2010-04-23T07:11:00.000-07:00

Loving Mercury in Retrograde....

Here is the comment I wished to leave on my own blog in response to one left by a reader:

"Sister" can appear lame anecdotally, but she has honed a rapier wit from her incessant watching of Gilmour Girls. (Also off the air)

But for some reason I can't leave comments on any blog, not even my own. Perhaps someone thinking of starting a blog on recommended viewing could reach out and advise how she managed to leave a comment on mine.

Plus the formatting is making me crazy and yesterday's post never posted and it really needed to be there to explain why I'm not posting today.

Which is what I'm doing now. Tsk.

Will try to get it together by the weekend.

No Time For A Sexy Title

2010-04-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

On the heels of yesterday's blog about wanting a life, mine is getting away from me.

Yesterday I 'came home from work' at 8:30 pm because the three times I walked through the door prior to that, I turned around and walked right out again. Golf lessons, picking up children from thither and yon, evening walk/run... By the time I sat down, it was on the pilates mat. Yawn!

Meanwhile, I've started getting up before six a.m. so I can write before work. You'd be amazed how little gets done in that amount of time that early in the morning. And this after I said I wouldn't give up sleep to pursue publishing.

I'm such a liar. One teensy, encouraging email from an editor and I'm up at the crack of dawn, grinding away at my quality of life in hopes of manifesting enough genius to impress her. Frankly, I fear I'm not up to the challenge. I'm tired!

Which is the long way of coming around to saying, I know I owe you a blog on PMS. I'm actually really excited to dig into that properly because what I got from my friend is actually chapter one of her dissertation on the subject. Which means I can either do her and the subject great justice or screw it up entirely. I'm going to aim for the former by not taking action when I'm pooped and distracted. So you're waiting on that one. Sorry.

I also want to write about those pesky, selfish teenagers. It's on the Things To Do list along with filing (2009 is over, time to put it to bed.) Related to that is taxes. They're out with a guy and have been for a while. That needs following up in the next nine days.

I'm still in golf lessons, still have kids with one foot out the door and I just got an email from my mobile provider saying I can have visual voicemail for free on my iPhone, I just have to upgrade my version of iTunes, reset some kind of setting, sync my phone and do seventeen cartwheels.

This would be more convenient if I didn't have to take up a whip and a chair whenever I want computer time on the Dell. Did I mention the pesky, selfish teenagers? Oh, I covet my sister's MacBook Pro. I want my own computer and I want it on my lap while I do twelve other things.

Aside in hushed tone: I checked the secret website that either tells you Don't Buy or Buy Now. Guess what it says. Buy Now! Apparently Steve Jobs doesn't consult his astrologer before he issues updates. Having said that, revisions to existing works are usually a safe bet. I'm still waiting until middle of May, though. Really wish I had time to figure out how to add those cute little count down widgets to this blog.

A minor miracle just occurred. Hubby came in with questions from the tax guy who called today. Taxes are under control. This inspires me to further delegate and ask hubby to blog for me so I can get caught up on other things. Come on, darling, I'll give you a cool nickname. Dogger...?

Time to go muscle daughter out of the way and post this for tomorrow. Then pilates and early to bed. Craig tweeted that the show is nothing but snafus which is like reverse psychology and makes me want to stay up to watch it. Evil genius. Need my beauty sleep, however.

Cheers and send questions

How Bad Do You Want It?

2010-04-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Or,

How Bad Do I Have To Be?

I recently read yet another "If you want it, you have to be willing to sacrifice" pep talks.

I get it. If you want to be in the Olympics, you have to spend the time on the ice. You have to forego a few things that your peers are enjoying--like a life. Your body is a temple, no late weekends, no goofing off on the couch with the six-hour Pride and Prejudice mini-series.

Note that I didn't reference Sons of Anti-Christ or whatever it is that my sister recently started watching. I don't watch a lot of TV. I'm a Mad-icct, because my sister the enabler got me hooked by sending me home with Season One of Madmen. "First one's free, Dan."

I regularly watch Dave and wish I could see more of Craig, but he's on too late--and here in rural BC he comes on at 9:30. I justify my little bit of TV viewing by doing pilates while I watch. See Dani multi-task. Dani long ago sacrificed enjoying pop culture in order to find time to write it.

However, after two decades of sacrifice, Dani is growing a little fed up with not showing enough want. Seriously, these 'are you willing to...' articles about make me want to ask the authors 'how bad do you want to be slapped?'

Let's talk about balance people. I have a friend who works for a treatment center and she recently told me about a 'Wellness Wheel' she shows her clients. The wedges are labeled Physical, Thinking, Emotional, Social and Occupational. They revolve around an inner circle labeled Spiritual. She does an exercise with them where they fill in all their wedges and see where they're off balance.

This is why blogging is good for me, by the way. It allows me to step out of Occupational for a while and socialize, work through my emotions and think about why I'm continuing to write beyond the want to publish.

As for addressing the physical, well, do you have any idea the toll it takes to sit at a computer for hours on end? If you don't make a point of exercising, you feel pain. Much pain. Therefore, even though I am very much enjoying the rewrites I started this weekend on my Medieval Fantasy, I am going to take a break soon and golf with my dad.

I just rechecked the email my girlfriend sent. She didn't mention a 'Family' wedge. Maybe she forgot or maybe I'm off the hook for all that guilt I feel over neglecting my kids in favor of 'wanting it bad.' I've tried, God knows I've tried to neglect them in favor of writing. Perfect example, this recent actual conversation in our home:

"This is good, Dad."

"I didn't make it. Mom did."

"Mom cooked?"

I was mad at the publishing industry for yet another form rejection, okay? So shut up.

See? I sacrifice. I do! So I really resent anyone coming along and telling me I'm not trying hard enough. Not putting in enough time. Not feng shui-ing my office right. Not using the correct corner of my brain. Not tweeting enough. Not wanting it bad enough.

Okay, you're right. I don't want to publish more than I want good health so I will turn off the computer and go outside on a sunny afternoon. I will plant a garden and tend it through the summer.

I will go on record as stating that it's been neck and neck for years between my marriage and publishing, but the husband is currently leading by a nose, mostly because he cooks for our children.

At one point early on in my attempt-at-a-writing-career I said I wouldn't have kids until I'd sold a book. My children are almost fifteen and twelve. I still haven't sold. I can honestly say I'm glad I didn't wait.

I don't mind giving up housework, a weekend of shopping in the Big Smoke, or the wine tasting gala at the art gallery. I will not give up sleep, walking after work, or ladies' night out. Because at a certain point you have to ask yourself--what is my life amounting to?

Yes I'd like to publish. Unpublished manuscripts are not much different from marathon T-shirts. They're a mark of accomplishment, something cool to show your friends and occasionally a great excuse to travel, but a gold medal is the real goal. They're more of a keepsake for the kids and the endorsement deals would go a long way toward that retirement nest egg we have yet to lay.

But what if I never win the marathon? I've already proven to myself I can live through failing at writing. If I got to the end of my life and discovered I'd failed at living, I'd die.

So how bad do I want it? Pretty bad. But I want a life a teensy bit more.

Sue me.

Embracing the Digital Age

2010-04-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

I had a conversation with my massage therapist not too long ago. (Let's be serious, I see her more than my husband some weeks, depending on his shifts. She and I converse all the time.)

This particular day we were talking about learning to wear make-up and she said her daughter had started. "If this continues," she said, "I think I'll take her to a professional for some tips."

I cleared my throat. "Here's news, my friend. It's gonna continue. Kids don't go backward."

Sort of like the digital age. Gadgets leap ahead of me and disappear before I even know what they are. I'll fess up that I don't know what the difference between blue-ray and bluetooth is and HDTV escapes me completely. I just know I'm supposed to nod my head and tell my husband of course we should get it.

This comes on the heels of my Dad giving us a TV as big as the bed his grandfather built quite literally a hundred years ago.

The TV needed a new bulb, Dad wanted a smaller one anyway (What? Talk to any other man and size definitely matters.) But the TV was only a few years old so my husband leapt on the opportunity to upgrade for the low, low cost of a sore back and a new bulb.

Hubby quickly discovered that the TV is already obsolete. (A victim of a Beta/VHS kind of struggle for market supremacy. This particular technology lost.)

But it's not uncommon for technology to outlast its usefulness just as it's catching on. Look at CD's and DVD's. We haven't finished replacing all our favorite LP's and we're already switching to downloading to iPhones and iPods.

Do you know a guy at work had the nerve to tell me a new iPhone is in the works? I had to bite back a wail of anguish. After what I paid for that thing?! But electronics age in dog years. One year is like seven and by the time a gadget is eight, you're aware it needs to be put down, but you can't quite muster the courage.

This is why a lot of people hesitate to jump in. Surely it will settle down soon into something standard and predictable. Why waste money buying in before it does? Isn't it all a fad?

Sorry, but no. This is where we live now people: in the Age of Aquarius, ruler of computers and new technology. (I don't make this stuff up, I just report it.)

I'm not saying it's right, cheap or easy. I'm sayin', go ahead and fight it all you want, but like a certain little girl's, the face of our lives has changed. It's not going back to a simpler time.

All we can do is embrace it and try to keep up.

And possibly consult a professional for some tips.

Saucy B*tch of a Draft

2010-04-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

Or,

Even Technical Writing can be Sexy if You Do it Right

Recently I had a conversation that went something like this:

"Here it is. Read it and slip into a coma."

"Is that your first, bare-bones, rough and dirty attempt at a draft?"

"No! That's my..." I'm at a loss for words I've worked so long to get that draft ready to be looked at.

"It's your saucy b*tch of a draft?"

Yes. That small tome of non-fiction was full of attitude and thinks-she's-right. It was a three dressed up as a nine, but it was not wasting anyone's time.

I quite regularly beat myself up for not having sold a romance fiction novel yet. It sometimes kills me that I rely on a day job to pay the bills, but at least technical writing is technically writing. The funny thing is, a few years ago I began begging the universe to pay me to write all day. Voila! This gig fell into my lap, so I really can't complain.

(Dear Universe. Please pay me for all the words I choose to write, especially the romance novel ones.)

Technical writing isn't sexy. I'll cop to that lie, but I'm unusually suited to it. I have the attention span for it, I'm sufficiently interested in boring processes to translate them into layman's language and I don't take myself seriously so I'm not offended when no one wants to read what I've produced. (Hmm. Could this be a clue to why I haven't sold any of my fiction works?)

Actually, the bulk of my job is to rewrite, edit and revise what others have written. I figure if I can make the content accessible enough that my non-techy romance brain can understand it, anyone can. After I clean up the writing and format, I spell-check and print on demand. I've learned a lot about publishing from this experience. For instance:

Authors are a pain. Their intentions are good, but they miss deadlines. They don't want to let go of their work if they can hang onto it and tweak. They get cranky if you accidentally credit someone else with their submission.
Editing is a hurry-up-and-wait game. You have to juggle your own tasks on various projects in different stages of the process while begging for approval to move on with anything. Eventually you order custom covers and all the rest, but just when you think you've got something out the door, someone above you makes changes and you have to start over. Those same people get cranky when you go over budget.
Printing is expensive. Electronic publishing is cheaper and, once you master the software and distribution, easier. I haven't, but I'm getting there.
Electronic distribution is more wide-reaching than print. With print, because of the expense, the impulse is to keep the print runs small and only make the books available where absolutely necessary. E-publishing allows for freer access which means (potentially) a greater readership.

Like I say, I've beaten myself up in the past for not having any books on shelves, but I looked at my 'published' list at work the other day and saw I had five volumes completed plus one that we could term 'novella-length.' Two more are in final stages and that saucy b*tch I talked about above should be finished in a couple of months. After that, I'm 'contracted' for another four at least.

Go figure. I'm multi-published. Plus I know for a fact some of my work has been sent overseas. I'm practically an international bestseller.

I still want the bucks for fiction, though.

Dear Universe. I have a saucy b*tch of a romance novel...

Mason Bees

2010-04-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Why My Kids Are Lucky To Be Alive

Apparently bee populations are in danger. I'm going on record as being part of the problem, not the solution.

My intentions were good last spring when I picked up my kids from my mother-in-law's. Uncle had dropped by for quality time with them. Being a member of his community garden, he had put the kids to work building Mason Bee Houses.

Allow me to describe these worthy abodes. The size of your average birdhouse, they were built from sturdy, weather-resistant, BC cedar and partitioned into two floors of two rooms each. A hinged, 'single-shake' roof over the attic gave them West Coast flair. After the kids painted them up, they were very smart indeed. Any upwardly mobile bee of any variety would covet such a condo.

I was thrilled to see they'd done something literally constructive with their Spring Break. And so good for the earth! Thanks, Uncle. I'll put them in the car right now so we don't forget them.

Wait, says Uncle. There's more.

Oh, says I. What are we missing?

A wire facing to keep the birdies and mice from eating the baby mason bees, says Uncle.

Of course. Family homes must be secure. I'm already protective and maternal for the baby bees.

And we need the paper tubes for the bees to lay their eggs, says Uncle.

Apparently mason bees don't usually find four room cedar mansions in the wild. They crawl into dead blackberry stalks and other naturally occurring tubes where they lay their eggs, spit out a mud plug, then come back the next day and leave another egg, possibly filling the tube with a veritable litter of mason bees.

Uncle says wrapping newspaper around a pencil is the ideal diameter for attracting mama bees. He and the kids spend another day making several dozen mock stalks.

I do the math. We'll be providing cradles for a whole hive of bees. I'm beginning to feel like I'm saving the world! I drive the houses home and set them in the garden.

Uncle comes to visit. You know, says Uncle, they like it if you turn the front to face east. This way the mama warms up in the morning sun and gets a good start to her day.

Oh, well. Let's be hospitable landlords to the expectant mothers. I turn the houses and note mud plugs in a few tubes. Renters! Look at me, nurturing the world's population of pollinators. Solving world hunger! Housing single moms! I'm a good person. And so little effort. Put the houses in the garden and the bees emerge next spring.

Not quite, says Uncle. When fall comes, you unwrap the tubes and leave the pupae in the attic.

Pupae? My cheerful tone lowers. Unswaddle baby bees?

Yes, says Uncle. The can chew their way out of blackberry stalks, but not layers of newspaper. And newspaper moulds.

Right. I make a mental note to tell husband to unwrap pupae in September. What. It was his brother who unloaded these high maintenance foster-insects on us.

And give them a bath before you put them to bed, says Uncle.

What?!?

In a secret solution that will kill any mites.

Seriously?

This uncle is not the type who teases.

Last week I unwrapped a newspaper tube from inside one of the houses that has been sitting untouched on the deck since November.

Go ahead and call social services.

Is it any wonder the world's bee populations are in danger?

Why I'm Qualified To Offer Advice

2010-04-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

Didn't you read my blog on horoscopes?

So I resisted blogging for a long time, mostly because I feared I wouldn't have anything to say. As it turns out, there's plenty of nonsense in me willing to spew onto the page. However, in my fear of having nothing to say, I began to conceive of starting an advice column. In the end, it seemed like too huge an undertaking to do it formally, however, I still like the idea of developing a dynamic, interactive conversation with my readers and offering up seed-like pearls of wisdom on any topic you might care to hit me with. What the heck. I've got a sense of humor. This could be fun.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in anything except telling people what to do. Typically I boss around immediate family especially siblings because my kids sure don't listen to anything I say. I am a wife, mother, daughter and sister--practically a crone. I live a relatively charmed life, but recognize that many don't. I try not to judge when people screw up since there but for the grace of God go I, usually. I'm easy to talk to. I try to be nice because being nice seems the nice thing to do. I will not mock you unless I think you're mocking me. If you want to email me privately, do so.

I will take questions on any subject that doesn't require a lot of research to answer, although I could probably enlist hubby to dig up some insight on undiagnosed medical issues or how to compost without attracting bears.

Here's a sample to get things started:

If your daughter won't clean her room, don't take her to her friend's until she does, even though the house would be more peaceful if you did.
Being professional means keeping your ears open and your mouth shut.
Life is never perfect. Sometimes you get to stand on a mountaintop and enjoy the view, but your feet still hurt and you still have to descend. Concentrate on the view.
Gardening will grow on you.
Don't gossip about your kids unless they're driving you crazy when you're trying to blog (Kids, we've talked about this: fire or deadly bleed. Famine doesn't count. You both know how to make mac and cheese.)
Even if something is scary, do it. I'm scared to start a blog. Probably no one will show up to this particular Tupperware party, but I'm hosting it anyway because somewhere, someone has been meaning to replace a lid.
Multi-tasking is over-rated. One at a time is good fishing.
When you want to frighten your husband out of your writing room, ask him for at least two items for a list of advice you're composing. He’ll move toward the door.
Be specific about originality, or he'll only come up with "One at a time is good fishing" lameness.
Don't laugh when he says, with absolute sincerity, "Always do your stretches."

Don't Gossip About Your Kids

2010-04-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

Don't Gossip About Your Kids

In my eagerness to blog and not fall on my face right out of the gate, I've been prewriting posts like crazy. One of them is a five-day series on goal setting which I put together so I would have a plan of attack for launching this, maintaining it for the next month, and still attending to the novel-length romance writing career I'm trying to nurture. Within that list of goals, I wrote, "Write a magazine article." I'm officially striking that from my Things To Do.

See, I'm starting to sense when I'm setting myself up for failure and I really don't know if I would be able to get that done along with everything else. Plus, as nice as it would be to get paid for an article, I couldn't include a byline with it. It was a parenting magazine and I wanted to write about one of my recent parenting experiences, but I couldn't do it without advertising some of my children's private bidness.

However, one of the core messages I wanted to get across in said article was:

Don't Gossip About Your Kids.

You're sitting there thinking, "I don't. Shut up." But let me enlighten you on how I came to the realization that I had gossiped, did regularly gossip and needed to stop. It starts out very harmlessly. In fact, it starts as a survival tool.

"My kid ate a dime. What do I do?" you ask your mom. "My kids crayoned all over grandma's wall," you tell your neighbor. "What takes that out?" Pretty soon you're asking the preschool teacher how to stop your kid from biting and sitting down with the school principal because junior isn't reading as well as the other kids. You're being a caring, involved parent looking for answers to help you guide your child and navigate the rocky peninsula of parenting.

"We went bra shopping today," you tell your friend at work. "He spends a lot of time in the shower," you joke when out for drinks with another couple.

"She has a boyfriend," I found myself blurting to anyone who would listen when the news first broke in our home. I was blown away. No, I was sucked by a riptow from the safe but rocky shores of our little peninsula and thrown into the open water of losing my say in how my daughter ran her life. "Who is he?" were the next words out of my mouth to friends and neighbors. I begged my sisters and other moms for advice.

In retrospect, the situation wasn't that harrowing, but we all have those moments of feeling completely ill-equipped as a parent. The toddler says, "no" and smacks you. You're forced to let one child walk home alone for the first time. Your daughter was bullied on facebook and you don't know how to help her. Stuff happens. We want help figuring out how to handle it.

But it quickly dawned on me that I was shining a spotlight on a relationship that could have sunk in a matter of days. I was taking on my daughter's experience as though it was happening to me. Yes, I had some lessons to learn as a parent, but the main one was, this wasn't about my life. It was about hers. I need to be on hand to guide her through this section of water she's chosen to cross, but she's the paddler. If she starts to drown, she wants a lifeguard, not an audience.

I'm not suggesting you parent in isolation. I'm saying: recognize when you're stepping on your child's privacy. Be aware which details you're sharing with whom, especially as they approach adolescence. Give them the respect you expect them to exercise where your personal life is concerned.

I'm gently cautioning, Don't gossip about your kids.

All You Need Is Love

2010-04-15T08:00:00.001-07:00

I promised a post on parenting today, but that’s been poned ‘til tomorrow (post-poned, get it?) It’s Sunday and I’m prepping my posts for the week and I simply must mention the wedding we attended last night.

Not that I’m at liberty to say much, (like exactly who was seen dancing to a certain Abba song) but it was such a fun night and played out everything I said motivates me to write romance. I should point out we had two amazing family weddings not quite two years ago, but they were smaller, intimate events. Last night was the first formal church wedding we’ve attended in a very long time filled with a ton of extended family, heartfelt speeches, food that kept coming, dancing and much, much celebrating.

I should also mention they weren’t exactly our family. Not directly. We felt a bit like Wedding Crashers actually, but we were invited and after three years that can best be described as an Eco Challenge, we appreciated a night of lighthearted fun. And fun it was. The food alone was worth the price of admission. My husband is no slouch when it comes to eating, but he about died when he read the menu, thought, “the Chicken Cutlets sounds good,” then discovered no, you get everything. Twice.

Italians. Need I say more? (Note: they don’t wait for you to say ‘more.’ They load you up before you do.)

Getting to the point of my post...We’ve been in a lot of holy houses in the last few years, all of them for goodbye services. To watch people come together at the start of their lives really is a privilege and something to be savored. Nothing but optimism and possibility stands before them. You can’t help but feel uplifted and joyous. Continuity of life, people. It’s right there and amazing to behold.

So thank you to D for thinking of us and sharing your special day with us. We wish you and S all the best, especially on that heart-stoppingly fantastic honeymoon he planned. (Readers, you’ve seen photos of grass huts surrounded by tropical water—think Couple’s Retreat? It’s that only way better. Straight out of a romance novel better. This is what I’m saying. You just sigh in vicarious happiness. Dark thoughts are banished because all you see is a sea of green and the peaceful silhouette of lovers walking hand in hand at sunset.)

As those smart blokes who sang the recessional song said, “All You Need Is Love.”

Life is good.

Welcome Presents Readers!

2010-04-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

If you're dropping by after reading my post on iHeartPresents, thank you! A big Thank You to everyone who drops by today or any other day. I appreciate it.

I promised a list of some of my favorite teas. It follows at the bottom and I'd love to hear yours. Meanwhile, let me give the newcomers a ten cent tour of the place.

Writers and readers alike may enjoy my blog on Why Romance back in March. I've also just finished a series of blogs on goal setting that writers may find helpful--although I tried to make it generic enough to appeal to anyone trying to squeeze more out of an already busy life. There's a big shout out in there to Lucy Monroe for her online workshop on goal setting some five or six years ago. She's one amazing lady. When I consider how much networking she was doing at the time, offering this very intensive course and also finishing manuscripts for two different houses...well, she's an inspiration for anyone who wants to complete anything, especially me.

I'm still unpacking boxes and hanging curtains around the site, so there's not a lot to see. However, I'll be soliciting questions in a couple of days for a bit of an advice column I'd like to start. Any topic. I also have a parenting blog tomorrow and will be interviewing an expert on PMS shortly. Please send me any questions you'd like answered on that topic and I'll be sure to ask her.

In the meantime, please have a seat wherever you can find space and we’ll have ourselves a little tea party. What do you like? I start with an herbal tea first thing, before breakfast, then mainline coffee for an hour after I’ve eaten. By afternoon, I switch back to herbal. I rarely drink ‘real’ tea so you'll have to educate me on white, green and black leaves.

My pet herbal teas are:

Stash and Celestial Seasonings are great brands. Sleepytime is an old-faithful around here and I love Celestial Seasoning's Sugar Plum Spice. It's usually only available at Christmas and my kids still tease me about the time I found the display at the grocery store, on sale in January, and stocked up with ten boxes.

If you love Earl Grey for its bergamot, you might like San Francisco Herb and Natural Food Co.'s LOVE TEA. It's great for Sunday afternoons when you've finished unpacking the groceries and want to thumb through the gossip magazine you just brought home.

Yogi is the brand that offers the Woman's Moon Cycle tea that I mentioned on the iHeartPresents site. It seems to help with the puffies and I love its gingery taste. I'd recommend reading the ingredients before purchase since it contains some strong herbs. I can only get it in the U.S. along with their Kava Stress Relief. Here in Canada, I can pick up their Egyptian Licorice, which I love and they have a straight ginger that's good for tummy upsets. (Mint is also great for indigestion and other bloatie feelings, but I'm not a huge mint tea fan.)

Finally, my current super-favorite is a brand that appears to be only available in Canada. Not Red Rose - which is an old joke here in Canada from advertisements where the British relatives would taste the tea and ask about it only to be told it wasn't available. "Only in Canada? Pity."

No, my favorite only in Canada herbal teas come from the Algonquin Tea Co. My husband likes to roll his eyes at my hippie ways and ask, “Do you really think they hand pick the herbs by canoe in the Algonquin wilderness?”

Yes darling, I do. Algonquin has six varieties all labeled: "100% handpicked organic and ethically wildcrafted in the Canadian Wilderness. Contains no caffeine, additives or preservatives." I rest my case.

I hesitate to tell anyone about them for fear the company will be overwhelmed with orders and will no longer be able to fill mine. I drink their Sweetfern Tonic every morning and love their Homestead blend just about any time. As much as I like Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime, more recently I've been tending toward the Algonquin's Peace Tea for my evening wind down. It has an almost bitter taste, but I like that.

My husband works shifts so he often has the Awakening tea instead of something with caffeine so he can sleep again if he needs to. I drank the Sacred Blend non-stop while writing my Medieval Fantasy - it's mostly sage which can interfere with medications so look out for that, but it's really great for easing into a meditative, moody state.

Finally, they offer something called Lucid Dream. This is a blend I urge people to use with caution. We've fed it to more than one houseguest with the warning that it does, indeed, produce lucid dreams. However, they're often disturbing dreams which bring any worries or anxieties to the fore. It's proof that while herbs are natural, they're also very powerful and should always be used with caution.

So there's a little peek into my tea pantry. What's in yours?

Goal Setting - Step Five

2010-04-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Or
Reward yourself

Okay, this process was rough and dirty, but I needed an action plan to carry me through April, especially now I'm shoe-horning self-promotion into the rest of my life.

Each week I will review what I've managed to accomplish and move any outstanding tasks into the next week. At the beginning of each month, I look at the bigger picture and see where I stand, modifying as necessary.

On a daily basis, I take a great deal of pleasure in firmly check-marking the completed items. This is not reward enough, however. At the end of each week, I list out my accomplishments on a Victory Log. (Thanks Cathryn for this tip!)

The Victory Log is hugely helpful for keeping your motivation up. Go ahead and record all the stuff you weren't intending to do, but got done anyway. (Dinner cooked! Taxes organized!) Then reward yourself.

Watching a movie is often my reward. Sometimes it's just a glass of wine. That Macbook Pro is making a heckuva carrot lately. Figure out what will motivate you then get busy.

Good luck and let me know how you do.

Goal Setting - Step Four

2010-04-12T08:00:00.000-07:00

Now comes the real work

You can use any notebook for your goal setting. For years I used a typical spiral bound, lined, school notebook. I had sections for my yearly goals, my quarterly, my monthly and weekly.

Nowadays I use a Polestar Business Calendar which I love because it has nice little quotes on the bottoms of the pages.

"Maintaining a complicated life is a great way to avoid changing it." - Elaine St. James

Hmm. Something to think about, isn't it?

Change is what I wanted to mention here. Don't kill yourself with this. Yes, you need to stay the course to succeed, but you also have to be flexible. Recognize that the kids will get sick, the car will need to be repaired, life will interfere. These goals are not written in stone. They are a plan. Review them often and discard any that no longer apply.

Hopefully you have a nice smooth road and a clear map to get there.

Goal Setting - Step Three

2010-04-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

OR
I always bite off more than I can chew

This is where you look at each step and put in some deadlines. Consider your pace and be realistic. Note: Being realistic is EXTRE MELY IMPORTANT. Otherwise you set yourself up for failure and feel like one. It helps if you set a few goals you're confident you can achieve, recognize which ones might be a challenge, and throw one on there that is your SuperStar goal which you're fairly confident you can't achieve, but if you do, you're totally entitled to a huge reward like buying a Macbook Pro. (My Revise & Submit elsewhere goal falls into this category.)

It also helps to look at your calendar so you know if, say, you'll be away for a wedding and lose a bunch of writing time. (Congratulations D & S!)

I like to attach a bunch of deadlines then figure out what is unrealistic or unnecessary and drop them to a later date or off the list altogether. For instance, I had a great idea for a magazine article and it not only might have paid, but it could have brought readers to my blog. However, I simply don't have time to write it - I'll blog it instead. Two for one!

It might be helpful at this point to use a spreadsheet so you can then sort by date. Make note of small goals you can do on the fly. For instance, I can brainstorm blog ideas into a notebook or my iPhone while parked outside the school. Group together goals that can be done together. I write and email on different computers so 'post blogs' goes on the same list as 'catch up emails.'

Note: I once read about a woman who sat backward on the toilet and wrote thank you notes in order to recapture some time, but this strikes me as an instance when multi-tasking is over-rated and besides...do you want that thank you note?

Are you starting to feel organized?

Goal Setting - Step Two

2010-04-10T08:00:00.002-07:00

This is where you break the big goals into smaller steps so you have a plan of attack. I'll lead by example. You'll get the idea.

· Launch website & blog

o Make notes of updates needed to website

o Update website

o Add links between website and blog

o Set up template on Blogger.com (done!)

o Prep drafts of 12-15 blogs

o Organize blogs in a posting order

o Transfer them to downstairs computer (groan! Read i want my M.A.C.)

o Set up post-dated posts

· Advertise blog and website

o Prep guest blogs

o Twitter

o Email friends and family to visit blog

· Get one copy of full portfolio of completed manuscripts off-site

o Transfer all relevant stories to external hard drive

o Walk it to downstairs PC

o Burn it to CD

o Take it to Mom's

o Buy a Mac so this will be easier in the future

· Finish and submit to Presents

o Submit revised partial

o Outline chapter by chapter

o Write, write, write

o Polish, polish, polish

· Buy MacBook Pro

o Save, save, save

o Wait out Mercury Retrograde

o Watch for updates on the 'Buy Now/Don't Buy' link

· Submit rejected manuscripts elsewhere

o Identify markets for each title

o Evaluate rewrites necessary

o Query

o Rewrite

o Submit

o Repeat as required

Goal Setting

2010-04-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

I need a plan...and a nap

First, thank you thank you thank you Lucy Monroe for your online workshop on goal setting some five or six years ago. I was always great at making a list and had moderate success striking things off them. I've since gathered other great goal achievement strategies, but Lucy was the first to teach me to start with a wide angle and narrow things down into bite-sized, chewable pieces.

I'm paraphrasing much of what she taught here, but feel free to play along and prepare to amaze yourself with your awesome ability to become organized and set out tactical steps toward achieving your dreams.

Step #1:

List the goals you'd like to achieve over time, one year, five year, whatever. These are mine, which I shall edit before posting as some are private. Note: I began this list at the end of March so I've actually achieved some. Yay me!

Launch website
Advertise blog
Move one copy of full portfolio of completed manuscripts off-site
Finish and submit to Presents
Buy MacBook Pro
Submit to other markets

Reward Cards

2010-04-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

OR
Just Give Me a Break Already

My dad says I would buy a liver milkshake if they promised reward points. That's not true. I'm allergic to dairy.

And I am pretty much done with points. How done? I resisted the urge to buy a MacBook Pro last week despite the potential to earn 5x the Airmiles. Let's do that sorry math. If I bought it through Airmiles Shops On-Line, I could have earned roughly 1 mile for every (I think) $20. I'm guessing 100 Airmiles for a computer priced in the neighborhood of $2000. At five times that, I could have had 500 Airmiles.

Wait, don't guess yet. If I put the purchase on my Amex, I would have earned an additional airmile for every $10 spent, roughly 200 airmiles. Times five, that's another 1000.

I could have had 1500 Airmiles and we are trying very hard to take a family vacation of some kind within the next year. So what stopped me?

Well, the not having $2000 in the bank slowed me down. I'll also admit that someone passed me the link (INSERT LINK) which advises whether now is a good time to buy Macs or not and it was currently listed as Don't Buy. However, the bottom line was, I'm tired of letting points cards influence me. I know marketers just want to collect statistics on my buying trends so they can sell me more of what I already buy, so let me help:

Stock more local, organic, biodegradable products in biodegradable packaging at my supermarket. Make available some type of sock that doesn't wear out in the big toe after three washes. Invent a series of containers and lids that are non-breakable, stack well in cupboards, but don't leach harmful chemicals into the food they store. Find me a purse that holds a wallet, a cellphone, a tube of lip balm, a set of keys, a pair of sunglasses, and some emergency feminine protection, but doesn't have so much extra room I could add a pair of running shoes and look like I'm leaving home for a week every time I run an errand. And if you want to know what kind of feminine protection, I'm mad at all of them. I want non-bleached, thank you, and I don't know which 'female gynecologist' invented the non-applicator type, but that soup-can shape doesn't work for me. Neither does that 'leak-protective skirt' Tampax has added to 'improve' their product. Seriously?

Going back to wallets, my main beef with points cards is the plethora of them. It's not good enough to carry a credit card and a driver's license. No, you have to carry a specific card for every occasion. I'm not Hallmark. I don't want extra luggage! If you can afford to give me a price break, do so. I'll come back, I promise. As it is, you're just alienating me by insisting I use a card to get a discount. And when you tell me it's too bad that I forgot my card and I can't give my points to the next guy in line to get my discount, well, I hate you. I really, really do.

Please tell me there is a privacy law that say something along the lines of "I don't have to disclose to the grocery store chain what flavor dip I bought with my chips in order to get the discount they're offering on the pop." If they can afford to drop the price by ten cents, they should do so, right? I mean, what does all this extra marketing of flyers and coupons cost? Couldn't we apply that directly to the cost of the product and we'd all live happier, simpler lives. As it stands, it's like paying taxes so the government can hire auditors. There's a wash of money and effort that accomplishes nothing.

Points cards are stupid.

I wish I'd bought that Mac last week.

Mac vs. P.C.

2010-04-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

OR
i want my M.A.C.

I thought I'd open up a nice heated debate to see if I have any readers at all. While picking up Blogging for Dummies the other day at the library, I glanced through the Switching to Mac for Dummies. This is a real question: Is there a For Dummies For Dummies that lists all the available topics and maybe gives you some high points?

Anyway, I thought it was cute how it said in the opening pages of the Switching to Mac for Dummies that the Mac versus P.C. debate raises as much ire as taking religious sides or voting republican when your husband is a democrat. (For the record, I would have voted for Obama if they'd allowed Canadians to vote in that election. I had to wait until the Canadian one and still wanted to write in Obama.)

I also thought it was cute how the Dummies book, copyright 2006, said Windows was coming out with Vista which could very well give Mac a run for their money. I know. I'll give you a minute to recover and wipe the coffee you just spewed off your screen.

You know what I like best about that whole Vista debacle? How they then had to hire five-year-olds to introduce Windows 7. Apparently, no self-respecting adult, even a starving actor, would touch it. My first thought was, "So you've made it easier for children to surf without supervision?" Now they have all these smug "P.C. was my idea" commercials which to me only says, "We're not smart enough to figure this out. Please help us."

Having said all that, what the For Dummies book did point out to me was a strength in PC's that has become their weakness, but remains somewhat admirable: In their quest to dominate the world, they have and continue to support more applications than Apple. When they bring out anything new, they make sure it's still possible for me to, say, write a manuscript on my Compaq Presario (circa 2000), transfer it via diskette to my Dell (circa 2007), and email it through that version of Windows with the ribbons which makes me roll my eyes.

To give Compaq their due, this little desktop has been a workhorse almost as sturdy and reliable as my HP 5L laser printer--which I would run back into my burning house to save. However, as you can see from above, I have some file transfer issues.

Initially it was a conscious choice to tuck my writing computer away in the attic off-line so I wouldn't be tempted to email rather that write novels. It works. When I hit a research question, I make a note of it and schedule some time when checking email on the downstairs computer to look up how to say 'milk' in Greek.

I knew someday I would want a laptop, but it didn't feel like a need so long as I could check into the Dell whenever the kids weren't on it--a time window which narrows a little more every day. Now I'm blogging. I still prefer to compose in the quiet of my attic bower, but posting requires a trip downstairs with diskette or external hard drive in hand. (Don't suggest a flash drive. I've got one but my Compaq Pre-hist-ario doesn't have a driver to support it.)

Which means I'm in the market for a laptop and I know PC's are more affordable, but there's one other piece of info I haven't mentioned: I have an iPhone.

I love my iPhone. The only thing I don't love about my iPhone is that I need to sinc it on my Dell. I want to sinc it to a Mac. I want my worlds to be one.

Then I want an iPad, just to be greedy.

So I'm counting down until Mercury is no longer retrograde (see Yes, Virginia post.) I'll have to check my May horoscope, but I'm thinking the full moon at the end of May, before Mars leaves my eleventh house.

Comments?

Formatting

2010-04-06T17:19:00.000-07:00

Or
What the heck has it done now?

The food co-op post came out black on green - hard to read. I changed it to white which means that when I'm in the compose screen, it's invisible. Handy.

I'm really enjoying learning to format in blogger. Not.

Can't wait to see what it does to tomorrow's post.

Did you read about Mercury going retrograde? See?!? This is what I'm saying.

Kettle Valley Food Co-op

2010-04-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

There's something morally wrong when you bite into a Sweet Georgia Brown before starting a blog on a new food coop. However, I ordered my Purdy's as part of the school fundraiser so it plays perfectly into my theme of 'do as I say, not as I do.'

Kidding! Not about the half pound of chocolate, carmel and pecans I just stuffed in my mouth. I totally scarfed that, but it's Easter. No, my core message here is "support local anything," and in this particular case, a local initiative to better our food supply.

I attended an information meeting on the Kettle Valley Food Co-op held at Jimmy's one evening last week. If you're like me, you probably saw it in the paper and thought, "I should go to that," but had ten other things that took precedence. As I had one foot out the door, I thought, "I should phone..." and came up with a half dozen people I know would be interested. Since I didn't phone a single one, it's my civic duty to at least summarize the meeting here.

This region has always been a fertile one, capable of supplying many of the needs of its inhabitants long before the Overwaitea trucks rolled into town. The new co-op aims to revitalize this practice by helping existing growers find success and encouraging new growers to continue and expand.

I stole the following from their brochure which sums up their intentions better than I could:

- Provide access to quality Agricultural products grown in the Kettle Valley region. Our vision is to build a food system that offers local food year round.

- Link the farmer to the consumer through marketing activities; such as a Community Supported Agriculture system.

- Build on our farming economy by offering a fair price to the farmer, along with supporting services to help them be successful. Our vision for the future is to offer services such as an abattoir service, product distribution, equipment share, and bulk seed and feed purchases.

This is an exciting time to become involved. The model is still in development and open to input, thus ensuring it meets member needs. For instance, one topic up for discussion is delivery. Like me, you may have participated in the past in organic food basket deliveries, where produce arrives weekly or bi-weekly based on what's available. I personally lean toward an on-line ordering system. I don't always know what to do with a rutabaga. Yes, handy recipes are often included, but I still prefer the idea of only ordering what I know for sure I will eat.

One of the key messages that came out of the meeting was 'simplicity.' I have to admit that, as a working mom with a sideline writing career, I don't always have time for slow cooking. It is definitely easier to pick up what you need from the grocery store on the way home. Stuff in boxes from the freezer seems like a dream come true.

Yet I do subscribe to the belief that healthy eating is not only better for you physically, but that connecting to your food, knowing you're eating good, wholesome, clean food, is spiritually nourishing as well. I want to support this attitude and the co-op for its efforts in that direction. One of the ways I can do that is by broadcasting their existence.

Therefore: The Kettle Valley Food Co-op is currently looking for two more directors. If you would like to become involved in any capacity, especially as an eater or grower, email: boundaryfarms@gmail.com. Membership for consumers is $50. Investment shares for growers are $100.

Food co-ops are not a new concept. When my grandfather died, my grandmother received dividends from his share purchased about a hundred years ago. (Not quite, but close.) It wasn't big money and the whole process seemed quaintly old-fashioned when I learned about it. Nostalgia isn't driving this co-op, however. As we heard at the meeting, "We've learned a lot about co-ops over the years." My grandfather didn't have an on-line ordering system. I can tell you that!

There will be a general meeting of members and prospective members on Saturday, April 17th at the Anglican Church in Grand Forks. The meeting starts at 2:30 with potluck to follow. Attend, learn, offer your suggestions and pick up an information packet. Then put your money where your mouth is. Keep those Sweet Georgia Browns out of it.