So far, not so good

2011 is really not shaping up to be the best year of my life. It started out with my heart deciding to do wonky things, then it segued into my mother having a stroke. Yes, she had a stroke, luckily surviving, and aside from letting work people know, I basically didn't share that news with anyone. Sorry. Anyway, I spent a week in the Bay Area in March ferrying my dad from home to the rehabilitation facility an hour away. Then we got Mom settled in respite care, until my sister and I could figure out what was what.

Mom is recovering, slowly and most likely not completely. It became clear fairly quickly that there were going to have to be some major changes. My sister managed to find a townhome in Alameda and somehow convinced my parents to go to an open house. My mom loved it and insisted that it be hers. My dad, reluctantly, put in an offer and it was accepted. So, we are going to pack up the 2 story, 4 bedroom house they have lived in for the last 40 years, and move what will fit over to Alameda. Not likely to be fun. For anyone.

So, I am leaving on July 4 for two weeks in the Bay Area. I am hoping to see some friends while there, but mainly I will be trying to take some pressure off of my poor sister and help out my dad. Mom...well, Mom is Mom and something like this does not bring out the best in her. *sigh*

Yep. Throwing myself a pity party. Did I mention that a couple I really love are having serious marriage difficulties and that another close friend's 11 year old daughter was recently diagnosed with cancer? 2011 - you really suck.

Tuesday Tunes

Once upon a time, I thought I would use Tuesdays as a day to post music that I liked, or was relevant, or for whatever reason I wanted. Unfortunately, I pretty much stopped posting completely right after I started. Serves me right for trying something new in summertime. Anyway, I thought I might try again.

Let's start with a song that has summertime significance for me. My nephews came and visited this summer and I actually listened to some current top 40-ish music while they were here. This song was catchy, easy to sing along with even if you didn't know the words, and a perfect song for a summertime holiday. When we got together again for our Christmas holiday, we cued it up on the iPod and sang along again.

This one is for Adam and Alex.

How the Internets Saved My Life

Or, at least a few bucks.

The story: Back a few months ago, when my nephews were visiting, we paid a visit to Blockbuster to rent some movies. I rarely go to Blockbuster, as most of my movie rentals are through Zip.ca, but I needed some quick movie entertainment. The boys chose a few movies, one of which was The Phantom Menance. They watched it. I did not. Still haven't seen a single one of the prequels. So there. They returned to the Bay Area. I returned the movies.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from Blockbuster. The young manager on duty wanted to let me know that when I returned the rental way back in the last century, I only returned one of the discs. (Damn you, George Lucas, for insisting on two different versions of every movie you make!!) Well, okay. I asked him to hold, went down to the basement to have a look around, found nothing, came back and told him so. Neither one of us had any solutions, so I just said I would keep looking, he thanked me and I hung up. I figured the next time (in a year or so) I rented something at Blockbuster, we would work it out.

Tonight, I am reading my humungous blog list (which is one of my excuses for not blogging in so long. That, and Mafia Wars. Damn you, Mafia Wars!!) and I hit an entry that made me go hmmmmm. Here it is. Go read, I'll wait. You might want to bookmark it too, it never fails to entertain...

Back? Well, I imagine you can guess what I did next. Yes, you're right. The missing DVD was, in fact, in the DVD player.

Tomorrow, when I return the disc, I am going to recommend that Blockbuster management always make that suggestion to their clients.

Off the Back of the Boat:: Special Nephews edition

Tuesday Tunes: Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Okay, for those of you actually paying attention, I didn't actually get this done on Tuesday, because I had to drive everyone to the airport in Buffalo. Thought this song was appropriate.

This song was a huge hit for Peter, Paul and Mary when I was 11. I loved singing along with Mary because she sang in my exact key. Over the years, this has become my campfire sing-along signature song. Singing it never gets old for me.

Sunday morning blogging

A bit of a lazy Sunday planned today. I was rousted out of bed by a husband who apparently couldn't feed two hungry boys by himself. Okay, actually, he knew I had planned on feeding everyone a giant Chelsea bun that we bought at the Farmer's Market yesterday, so he really did need me. Presently, we are happily sated with said Chelsea bun, scrambled eggs and real bacon (not my usual chicken bacon) and coffee. The boys are downstairs watching classic cartoons and we are watching the end of the Open Championship.

The visit has been great so far: we went to see the Blue Jays vs the Red Sox on Friday night. Sadly, there was a threat of rain, so the roof was closed. The Jays lost, which made half our party sad and the other half happy. Before the game, we went to the top of the CN tower where I actually managed to stand for a brief moment on the glass floor looking down the 446.5 metres to the ground(1,464.9 ft for you Americans!) before my irrational fear got the better of me. The boys had no such fear.

Yesterday we spent the day in downtown Brampton; first the Farmer's Market, then a tour of the new theatre and Grant's offices. Finally, we watched the Classic Car parade: nearly 50 cars ranging from the 20's to the 80's. We all picked out our favourite car. I liked the 50s red and white Corvette convertible.

Today is just a lazy day. The boys are looking forward to playing with the Wii and my sister and I are looking forward to digesting the ridiculous amount of food we have consumed. Off to the boat tomorrow. Let's hope the weather stays nice!

Wonder wonder why the wonderfalls

Late Tuesday night, we picked up my sister and the boys at the Buffalo-Niagara Airport. We stayed overnight at an airport hotel (can't really recommend the Quality Inn, it's pretty shabby) and the next morning, we drove the short distance to Niagara Falls.



The Maid of the Mist is still a total blast.




We got a little bit wet.



All in all, a great start to our holiday.

Random

Remember when the phone ringing was the most exciting thing ever?? Remember when having an answering machine meant you never had to miss a call?? Now, I rarely answer the phone because it's nearly always a telemarketer and I can let that message alert blink for practically ever. Seriously, if you want to get my attention: email me.

I have various food obsessions from time to time. Sometimes it's a spice, sometimes it's actual food. I had a love affair with cumin all of last year. This year, my passion is ruby grapefruits. I will peel them and eat them segment by segment, no sugar, just the grapefruit-y goodness. I tried to explain the attraction to my co-worker and the best I could come up with was that it was like a surprise explosion in my mouth of sweet and sour, but that sounded kind of dirty so I left it alone.

I haven't had a period in four months. My doctor says I am in official menopause, but it doesn't really count until I haven't had a period for 12 months. I was surprised to find out that I missed the old Aunt Flo. At first. Now, I am getting used to the idea. I think I want to make a longer post about going through menopause, but I promise to warn the men in advance...

The boat is in the water, but the weather has been sucky of late. High winds and cold make for less than pleasant weekends. But we persevere.

I am thinking of what I should be called when I officially become a grandparent. (November 28. Wheeee!!) My grandmothers were Grandma and Mimi. For some odd reason that I can't quite put my finger on, I find myself leaning towards Granny Allison, but Grant thinks that sounds like I am a crone. I dunno. What do you think?

I have to go cook dinner, which reminds me: Grant has lost over 25 lbs. I have lost 7. Apparently my thyroid is hypo-active. So I am having a thyroid scan tomorrow. Which means:

I am currently radioactive.

Why just be an evil step-mother

when you can be an evil step-grandmother?

All grown up

Remember this kid?


He got married this Saturday, a rare sunny day in Halifax. His lovely bride is Erin, and we love her to pieces. Aren't they bee-yoooo-tiful??

25 things about me

I have been tagged at least three times for this. Finally, I am getting around to doing it.

1. My paternal grandparents lived in Southern California, so during a large part of my childhood, my family managed to take us to Disneyland once a year. I have probably been there at least ten times. Although I loved many of the rides, my favourite was always Peter Pan. I still get a tingle when I hear Peter say "Here we goooooo!!"

2. When I was very small, I used to listen to my parent's recording of "HMS Pinafore" endlessly. The vinyl discs were stored in a cardboard case, with a photograph of the D'oyly Carte production. When D'oyly Carte came to San Francisco with their production, my parents took me to see it. The curtain rose, and the set was the exact same as the album cover!! I was amazed and delighted, as only a 7 year old can be.

3. I hate peas. I often pick them out of my food.

4. I have been fired three times.

5. I have always alphabetized my music collection. I have never alphabetized my book collection.

6. Speaking of books, I own over a hundred Star Trek novels.

7. For my university graduation present, my parents gave me $1000, which I spent on a week-long trip to New York City. The first two nights I spent at a hotel on Times Square, then I crashed (illegally) at a dorm room at Columbia with a girl I met my second night in town.

8. I drink my coffee black, but I like a bit of sweetener in my tea.

9. I have seen Barry Manilow in concert 4 times, Bette Midler 3 times, the Indigo Girls 3 times, and Barbra Streisand once. No, I am not a gay man.

10. My parents always wanted me to get straight A's in high school. I did not comply. However, when I returned to school at 44 years of age, I got my first (and only) straight A report card.

11. My sun sign is Virgo. My rising sign is Aries. My moon is also in Aries and Mercury is in Virgo. This means I am outgoing, impulsive, and critical. Who says astrology is a load of hooey???

12. The first album I owned was "Magical Mystery Tour" which I bought at the Bell Market grocery store.

13. Nearly every pair of shoes I own is black. Same goes for my dress pants.

14. I went to camp for two weeks each summer for 3 years. My best activities were archery and riflery.

15. Mickey was my favourite Monkee. I really didn't have a favourite Beatle until I was in my twenties and saw A Hard Days Night. Then I fell in love with John.

16. I am happy eating the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch every single day.

17. I have lived in Canada for 9 years. I can't vote here, because I am not a citizen, but I have voted in every U.S. federal election since I was 18 years old.

18. My first car was an orange Honda CVCC. It was the size of a postage stamp. Seriously.

19. In 2001, I moved into a new home. That was the first time in my life I had ever painted a wall.

20. I love to cook. I rarely use recipes any more. And when I do use them, I rarely do everything the way the author does.

21. I can't tell you what my favourite movie or book is; there are just too many to choose from. However, my favourite musical is Sunday in the Park with George.

22. I find it nearly impossible to fall asleep in a seated position. Or when the television is on.

23. On February 17th, I will celebrate my 9th wedding anniversary. On March 24th, I will have been married to my current husband longer than I was married to my first husband.

24. I can usually identify, by name, an episode of ST:TOS within 1 minute of viewing.

25. Since my birth, the number of animals I have lived with is 11 cats, 8 dogs, two budgies, one hamster, one parrot and one rat.

The great Canadian pastime (as seen by an American)

This was a reply I wrote to a hockey post written by Wil Wheaton at WWdN: In Exile. I did not intend it to be so long, but that's how it ended up. I thought I would share it here.

I never played hockey. In fact, I never saw a hockey game until that guy I was cyber-dating came to visit from Canada and took me to see the Sharks in San Jose. About two years later, I found myself living in Ontario, Canada with him and his two teenage sons.

Both boys played hockey. The older played defence while the younger was a goalie. I quickly learned the special torture that is being the (step)mom of a goalie; agonizing over every shot, cheering like mad when he stood on his head. The first few years after I moved, I drove with my husband and either boy to hockey arenas all over southern Ontario; those trips are still my main source for remembering the geography of this area.

The guy and I got married. For various sentimental reasons, we decided to get married in February, which happened to fall smackdab in the middle of the minor league playoffs. My soon-to-be husband, who was coaching the younger son's team in the playoffs, specifically told the convener not to schedule any games that day because we were getting married. She didn't. She did schedule a game the night before and the day after, though. Yes, I got married in-between hockey games.

The day I received my Permanent Residence status for Canada (Canadian version of a green card), my husband and I went to a game at the old, wood-beamed, cavernous community arena to watch our younger boy play. We were standing aisle of the old arena, my hand in the pocket of his jacket and his arm around me, when one of the players fired the puck over the glass. My husband instinctively did the hockey puck duck, which unfortunately pulled me directly into its path. I had a lovely bruise on my upper arm for days.

And so I was officially made Canadian.

My mother turned 85 yesterday. A few weeks ago, her friends in Tucson threw her a surprise party right before she left to return to the Bay Area for the summer. Then, on Sunday, my sister had a little get-together party for her at a restaurant. The guests included my sister and her husband, my nephews, my ex-husband and my former in-laws (all of whom we still consider family). As my mom raved to me on the phone about how special her day was, I found myself tearing up, because... dammnit all...I wanted to be there too.

I love my life here in Canada, but sometimes it is really hard to have left a life of 40 years 3,000 miles away.

Mortality

My dog is 15 years old. She moves a lot slower then she once did, is pretty much deaf and sleeps nearly all day long. Nearly every time my husband and I see her sleeping like one dead, we check carefully for breathing. There have been a couple of times that I have touched her or called her name and she has simply not moved. I think "She's gone." for a heart-stopping instant and then she takes a breath or starts awake and all is normal again. It's not like we have any reason to assume she will die any time soon...but 15 is not a youthful dog. According to this chart, Lucy is nearly 85 years of age in human years.

My dad just turned 85. My mother will be 85 in May. I don't find myself as aware of their ages as I am of my dog's, perhaps because I only see them about once a year. Still, my equivalent of "checking the breathing" occurs every time the phone rings in the middle of the night. For just a moment, the world stands still. I imagine the worst scenario. For that frozen moment, I hold on to the world I know, knowing that when I pick up the phone, my world may be irrevocably changed.

Every day I practice preparing for loss with my beloved dog and by extension, my beloved parents. But in my heart, I know I can never prepare. All I can do is treasure each moment we have together. So, I am going home for Christmas. San Francisco, not Tucson. I want to be with my family, in our family home, with all our furniture, traditions and all the familiar baggage. I only wish the dog could be there, too.

The little things...

...That make perfect relationships

Grant: "Tell you what: you wipe down the sink after using it, and I will make sure I hang up the dishcloth the way you like it."

Me: "No more crumpled dishcloth in the sink? Deal!"

Merry Christmas

A foggy Christmas morning. Lots of presents and even more love. The boys are here, and seem happy with their gifts. Grant spoiled me like crazy and I tried to spoil him in return. Yes, I did give him underwear, but he really wanted some. Later today, we will go over to my sister-on-law's for Christmas dinner. My yams with pecan topping and Grand Marnier were specially requested. In two days, we're off to Arizona for more presents and more love. And probably some tears and drama, but that's part of Christmas too.

Hope your holiday is everything you hoped for. With love from me and mine to you and yours.

I got those immigrations blues

Can you lay down a nice slow bass line for me?

Thanks.

It wasn't until later this afternoon that I realized it was Thanksgiving. Which is so very strange, because Thanksgiving has always been one of my most favourite of holidays. Yet--I haven't actually celebrated it in years.

I have bitched about this before--Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving too early and not on the right day. We never cook dinner, because we are usually at the boat closing things up for the season. Sometimes we go to my sister-in-law's for dinner on Monday, but its not my Thanksgiving, you know?

The dysfunctional family interactions entwined with all the traditional family foods are what Thanksgiving is. The giant bowl of nuts to be cracked open and eaten while the guests gathered. The hot hors d'oevres that were both tacky and delicious, which, along with the nuts made us almost too full to eat dinner. The relish tray assembled by my sister and served on the same floral dish with gold trim since the beginning of time. The broccoli with hollandaise sauce, in the early years prepared by my mother, and once mastered by me, my special duty. The excess drinking and subsequent arguments and tears. The dinner table conversation, which invariably ended up with my parents remininscing about their youth, both singly and as a couple. The pie. All the damn pie. And then you get three days to recover.

Someday I may move back to the States and Thanksgiving will take its rightful place in my life again. In the meantime...

I got those im-

I say I got those immigra--

I got those immigration...

Bluuuu-uuuu-uuuuues!!

Thank you. Thank you very much.