free to a good home (part 2)

A few weeks ago, I wrote that I had an almost new prosthesis that I was seeking to re-home. This is what happened next:

Julia consulted other directors of Breast Cancer Action, who suggested that there might be a program to send prostheses to developing countries. She also called the social worker at the cancer centre who told her that Canadian Cancer Society takes donations (1745 Woodward Dr., Ottawa, ON K2C 0P9. 613-723-1744). I am so grateful to her for doing this.

Throws Like A Girl , who is part of our group at Mothers With Cancer, suggested that we need "a prosthesis relocation program."

Imstell jumped in with the following:

"Maybe we [Mothers With Cancer] could just host a bulletin board where people could post their needs:

FREE TO GOOD HOME Single 36C teardrop prosthesis. Likes to travel. You pay shipping.

WANTED swimming prosthesis. Any size large enough to hide my belly.

These had me laughing out loud but I think we might actually get something like this going.

Finally, Christine told me that she has a friend who lives locally, who was in need of a new prosthesis. It turned out to be a perfect fit.

Thanks to all who commented here, via email and on Facebook. You made me laugh. And you made me feel good about the power of community.

We are off to the maritimes tomorrow (if all goes well-it's a two-day drive with two kids and two dogs). I may be offline until August 12. I feel the withdrawal pangs starting already.

some further and disjointed thoughts on my blogher09 experience

A non-virtual connection with Melissa from Stirrup Queens (and author of "Navigating the Land of If"). We are both holding Nora's head on a stick.

1. If Twitter was played a role at last year's BlogHer conference, this year it was front and centre.
Many of us followed what was happening in other sessions we attended by following the keyword (called a hashtag with a #sign) blogher#09. These are my tweets from the session I attended about "Online Safety for Your Kids Who Are Online Themselves" (I had expressed in my previous post the concern that it would be all about scaremongering but was delighted to find that it was not):

"if you are an engaged parent you have less to worry about in terms of sexual predation online" #blogher09 session on online kids.

it never occurred to me to worry about kids taking pics at my son's sleepover b-day party. should i have? #blogher09 kids online session.

"every technology brings with it new fears." the take away - don't panic! i love it. panel on kids online #blogher09 do you post photos of your kids online? on facebook? flickr? #blogher09

"identifying information that your kids put online has NO correlation with sexual predation." #blogher09

"reputation management" never heard this before in online context. interesting. #blogher09. your photos and words may come back on you, kids

"we are tethering our kids" "we are raising our kids in captivity" - this is the way times have changed. #blogher09.

2. In the closing keynote, the subject came around again, to Twitter. One commenter likened her Twitter community to a support group "I think the women I've met online in the pregnancy loss community have saved my life" (I didn't get her name or blog. Let me know if you did). A powerful statement, but I can relate. She went on to say that support groups are not available 24/7 the way that an online community can be.

3. One of the speakers also observed that most people get started blogging because of someone they know in their "physical life." I thought that was interesting, because it was my spouse (a non-blogger) who introduced me to the blogosphere.

4. Another favourite keynote comment (again, if you know who said this, do let me know): "People with higher levels of income tend to be online. We need to be vigilant that our online communities are not recreating or reinforcing existing inequities."

5. As you can see, I found the content to be very rich and thought provoking this year, despite the size of the conference.

6. I do worry that some people spent so much time tweeting that they missed connections with real people or taking in the discussions occurring around them.

7. One of my favourite Twitter moments occurred when "phdinparenting" lamented her dislike for American beer. She posted about our interaction on BlogHer. It really tickled me that I could be of help. There were lots of those kinds of tweets, throughout the conference.

8. I wish the bookstore had been in a different location. One person suggested in a conference feedback thread that the bookstore would do better closer to registration. I suggested that book signings take place during cocktail parties, in the middle of the action (and of course it wouldn't hurt if free cocktails made people want to buy more books). The conference organizers have acknowledged that the placement of the bookstore in the far corner of the Expo hall was a mistake (too far out of the way. And who wants to buy a book when they are surrounded by mounds of free stuff?). While I do understand how experiments can fail (and how it must have seemed like a good idea during planning) I just wish that this particular year (when I schlepped a bunch of books in my suitcase) had not been the one where the bookstore flopped.

9. Elisa from BlogHer made an observation (in a tweet, of course), that she is trying to learn the distinction between things that are "wrong" and things that are just not her "cuppa tea." That's how I feel about the karaoke during the Friday night cocktail party. I hated it. However, others seemed to be having fun (perhaps I am just getting old), so I got myself a hot date and went to find a patio.



10. I have other thoughts but Sassymonkey and Blondie expressed them already. Go read their posts.

I said many times before going that BlogHer09 would be my last. I hadn't even unpacked my suitcase before I'd begun to fantasize about getting to BlogHer10 in NYC. Anyone want to drive down from Ottawa and share a hotel room with me?

having a wonderful time. wish you were here.

I am having my best BlogHer ever.

The biggest difference is that I am more comfortable in my own skin, more at ease with who I am and more willing to take risks when it comes to approaching people.

I also know myself well and am making the choices that are the right ones for me. This has meant that I am not pressuring myself to "network" not doing the parties and welcoming opportunities for one on one time with interesting people. This has led to the creation of some lovely memories and the deepening of some friendships.

Yesterday, I attended sessions on "The Transformational Power of Blogging," "Blogs and Body Image: What are we teaching our kids?" and "Patient Bloggers: You are not your disease - you just blog about it every day." Every one was excellent.

I toyed with the idea of skipping the "Community Keynote" but I'm so glad I didn't. A series of bloggers read selected posts from their blogs, each more funny or sad or powerful than the next. And some really beautiful pieces of writing.

Last night's cocktail party was a little grim (karaoke! ouch!) or maybe I am just getting old ("the noise! I couldn't have a conversation!") The free booze just wasn't enough to make me stay. Luckily, I invited Elana to have dinner with me - and she said yes. A pint and a bite and some lovely conversation later, I felt restored.

Today, I have visited the vendors, talked to people and, at lunch, I did my book signing. They had us tucked away in a far corner of the Expo hall, so it was a little slow. I was signing with Ilene Chaiken, creator of the L-Word and we still didn't draw more than a handful of people. I've sold and signed a few books, though and have done as well as anyone else here.

Next up is a session on "Online Safety for Your Kids Who Are Online Themselves." I just hope it's not all scaremongering.

I think I'm going to skip the evening cocktail party and go have some deep-dish pizza with Suzanne, her parents and some other bloggers.

This time, I wasn't to oshy to ask for a celebrity photo (that's Ilene Chaiken on the left and BlogHer co-founder - and blurber of my book - Lisa Stone in the centre).

landed

I was going to title this 'the eagle has landed' but then given my Canadian-ness , I thought 'the beaver has landed' would be more appropriate but that sounded, well, rude. (And silly, since beavers don't fly. Never mind.)

What I mean is, that I am now in Chicago, comfortably ensconced in my hotel room and ready to attend BlogHer 09.

I didn't get sick (although both my kids did) or my symptoms were really mild (or I have yet to be felled but I won't consider that option). Thanks to everyone who wished me well. I think it helped.

I am typing this (badly) on a lovely little borrowed Netbook, since my computer died on Tuesday afternoon. After calling around for the best prognosis and cheapest care, it seems like it's fixable. I'm glad but I could learn to love this little loaner, even as I adjust to a new keyboard.

Last year, you may recall that my computer took sick right before BlogHer as well. I chose to be computer-less (and while I certainly didn't mind not schlepping the thing back and forth from Oakland to San Francisco and back every day, I did miss being wired. Twitter played such a big role at last year's conference (I'm @lauriek. Follow me, if you like!) and I missed being able to read everyone's comments at day's end and add my own. Also, the comprehensive agenda was online only and I left before it was available, so that was a bit of a hassle. This year's laptop demise may end up feeling serendipitous.

I'm not going to hide behind the computer, though. I made myself some handwritten notes this morning (I try to spend a few minutes writing free-hand most days) which can be summed up this way: relax, don't let my introversion get the best of me and have fun!

I forgot my USB cable (so no photos to download until I get home) and a little gift to exchange with someone. I did remember to bring a friend's husband's forgotten wedding ring and another friend's head on a stick.

The head (well, photograph of a head) belongs to Nora who can't be here (something about having given birth to twins). Nora and I met at last year's BlogHer. I liked her very much. And I must say that she has thus far been an excellent travelling companion. There are a few of us here bearing Nora's head and tomorrow, we are going to try and pose for a group photo.

I have to head over to the conference hotel, shortly (I am staying a few blocks away) and deliver my books the bookstore. I'm doing a signing on Saturday at lunch (12:15 to 12:40). I 'm sharing the spot with Ilene Chaiken (creator of the L-Word), so I will either benefit from her spillover or be left entirely alone. If you don't yet have my book and you want to buy it at BlogHer, I promise to sign it and write something really nice.

not this time

We got back yesterday evening from my spouse's family cottage. It's a place I love and where I am always happy, even when the weather does not cooperate.

So despite the fact that I couldn't bring myself to go swimming and I didn't sit around on the dock in my bathing suit, I still found time to read, enjoy the company of family and make art with D. ("Who would have thought that painting could be so much fun?" he said. "Using your imagination!"), knit, go for walks, eat and drink too much and just relax. My spouse taught S. how to play Backgammon and D. taught me how to tolerate playing PayDay.

It was all quite lovely, even if we we did miss the sun.

On the very last night, though, D. woke with a fever and could not get back to sleep. He threw up twice (and copiously) on our long drive home.

I kept him home today and let him watch DVDs in his pajamas. By this evening, he was asking to go to the park.

Through it all, I comforted, fussed and nursed. And tried not to heed the guilty voice in my head: "The kid has lousy timing! I can't get sick. I leave on Thursday for BlogHer!"

This evening my head hurts and I am achy. I feel just as I did before the fever set in, on the day before my ill-fated Toronto book launch.*

I cannot get sick. I will not get sick. I am going to bed and tomorrow, I will wake up feeling well.

Cross your fingers for me, OK?

*temporarily ill-fated. Re-scheduled for October.

unwired

I am off to a place with no internet and no phone (hard to believe but it's true. Our cell phones don't even work there).

It's also one of my favourite places in the world.

I'll be back in a week or so. Don't let me forget to tell you the story of how my prosthesis found a new home (and all the good help and advice - both humorous and helpful- that I got from my online community).

Here's hoping for sunshine!

RIP Emily

She was known as Sepha and her blog was Undone.

I have been meaning to email her, send her a package, comment on her blog. I have been thinking of her lots.

Now we have lost another one. Another smart, funny, creative woman has succumbed far too young to cancer.

Life, sometimes is so unfair. And damn, I wish I had sent that package.

My heart goes out to her family and her Dear Other.

I hate cancer.

free to a good home

It's not the kind of thing I'd want to advertise on Craigslist or Kijiji.

I can't set it out on my front lawn and hope someone takes it away.

I doubt the Canadian Diabetes Association or the Ontario Federation for Cerebral Palsy would want it as part of their drive to collect use goods for re-sale.

But I have a perfectly good prosthesis, worn only a handful of times that I'm sure someone could use, even if it was wrong for me (and I have replaced it with another one I don't seem to be wearing much).

The government covers about two thirds of the cost of a new prosthesis. That balance must be prohibitive for many who don't have private insurance to take care of the rest.

How do I find someone who can use it though?

Maybe someone at Breast Cancer Action would know.

Of course, I could always use my prosthesis to make art, the way Jacqueline did.

I think my inclinations might be a little more violent, though.

Thoughts?

and then it just got even more canadian around here

photo: A Kaplan-Myrth

Because every Canadian finds a Mountie on their front lawn on Canada Day.

The food was good, the beer was cold and their was maple syrup in the salad dressing. Now the dogs are being driven crazy by the fireworks.

It's been a good one.

rhetorical question

Do you know hard it is to keep track of two six year olds in a museum on Canada Day, when admission is free and everyone is dressed in red and white?

So far today I have been to the Museum of Civilization, eaten Vietnamese noodle soup, watched two boys play in a splash pad at a park and taken the dogs for a walk in the rain.

Now that the sun is out, I'm going to join friends on their back deck, watch the kids splash in the pool, eat some barbecued stuff and have a beer or two.

Very Canadian.

recipe for low-tech fun

1. Take down kids' playhouse that has been up for almost a decade.

2. Leave dogs unsupervised in back yard.

3. Set two six year old boys up with sprinkler and water slide.

4. Leave six year old boys unsupervised for two minutes.

5. Find small lake filling hole previously dug by dogs.

6. Consider becoming annoyed but remember how much fun you had playing in the mud as a kid.

7. Sit and knit while boys dip their hands in the water.

8. Watch as boys wade into mud hole.

9. Listen to imagination game as boys run mud through their fingers.

10. Observe the inevitability of mud in fingers leading to mud covering bodies and faces.

11. Intervene only when mud is being flung against the house.

12. Watch boys rinse mud off house.

13. Interrupt game only when it is time to leave.

14. Ignore pleas for five more minutes.

15. Hose boys down.

16. Drop one boy off at home.

17. Apologize for mud encrusted in ears and other places.

18. Smile every time you think of those two boys covered in mud.

the best

Big promises.

High Expectations.

Met.

And exceeded.

So much more lies ahead.

I am privileged to share this path

With you.

Happy Fathers' Day.

my new rack

Warning: This post may contain too much information for some readers.


I have not worn a prosthesis for more than two years. Lymphedema and then scarring from radiation made the experience of wearing it excruciating. The last time I tried to wear it, I was on a date with my spouse in Florida. After an hour, I was in tears, it hurt so much.

Out it came and I haven't looked back.

At least not much.

I find that I'm pretty comfortable without a prosthesis. Sometimes I dress to camouflage and others I just don't care. And most of the time, I don't think about it at all.

Lately, though, I've wanted the chance to blend in a little more, to not have to lead with my cancer when I meet people. And although I have some great tops that work with my asymmetrical body, (from Rhea Belle, of course) I do get tired of the limited options open to me (it's hard enough finding funky clothes in larger sizes).

So, while feeling slightly guilty about giving into societal notions of beauty (in hiding my asymmetry, am I implying that I think there is something wrong with it?), I set out to visit Kelly's Mastectomy Boutique.

The entire operation took all of ten minutes ("Oh look! Boobs!" I exclaimed as I tried on prosthesis and bra) and cost several hundreds of dollars (recuperable, thanks to the government and my insurance plan. I wonder though, why do we need a referral from a doctor? Does anyone get a prosthesis for fun? What would they do with it?). I brought it home, stuck it in my closet and didn't wear it for almost a week.

Yesterday, I decided it was time for the prosthetic equivalent of a test drive. I was meeting Sassymonkey for pints and knitting on a sunny patio. It seemed like a low stakes endeavour, in that if I arrived with my boobs pointing in different directions, Sassymonkey was likely to be unperturbed. It was also a good opportunity to put the boob through it's paces, as I would be biking, knitting, eating, sitting in the warm sun and engaging in a social encounter.

My new fake boob is squishier in back and is supposed to be lighter - better for both my uneven chest wall and lymphedema. I wore it under a t-shirt with a picture on it (much harder to wear with an uneven chest) and one that is slightly snugger than I have been wearing lately. I noticed immediately that my waist, gone for ages, seemed to reappear. I also noticed that my posture seemed to improve.

I ran into someone I knew on my way to the pub. She said, "You look different. Have you done something to your hair?"

And after Sassymonkey and I had been sitting for a while, I pointed out my newly symmetrical rack to her. "That's what's different!" she exclaimed.

"You'd tell me if I were unbalanced right?" She assure me that she would (I felt unbalanced, I'm so unused to having this weird mound on the right side of my chest).

All in all, I declare the outing a success. The thing felt odd but there was no pain. I even forgot I was wearing it for a while.

When Sassymonkey and I parted we hugged goodbye (I later repeated this experience with T. Hugging feels very odd, like we are squishing a big pillow between us) and she noted, "You're still balanced."

I said I was glad but that I was going to take it off when I got home. "It's like breaking in a pair of shoes, you know?"

She said that she did.

As I type this, the stand-in for my right boob is nestled in it's box in my closet. I am toying with taking it out for a spin again this evening.

And one last thing: there needs to be more support and encouragement of women who create clothing for the post-mastectomy body. Also, it would be great if the bigger clothing companies would come across, by supporting the work of women like Jacqueline and modifying their own designs. I can't be the only woman who has had a mastectomy, does not love prosthesis and cannot/would not choose surgical reconstruction.

you can't always get it

Mixed results from my appointment with my oncologist yesterday.

First of all, I was late. As I was riding to the hospital, I noticed that it was getting harder and harder to pedal. When it actually became impossible, I got off the bike and checked. My front brake was squeezing the front wheel. Hard. I think I had been riding like this for some time - and tightening every time I braked. I just thought I was tired and out of biking shape. I solved the problem by releasing the front brake entirely (I'm sure that's not the safest thing). This meant that when I hit the big hill before the hospital, I was already wiped out from pedalling with all that friction.

I arrived at the cancer centre twenty minutes late and a hot, red, sweaty mess.

When I finally saw my doc, he easily agreed to a break in July (which is a good thing because I have non-refundable air tickets and a pre-paid hotel for BlogHer). That went so well that I (without making eye contact) asked for August off as well.

The answer was an unequivocal "No."

I didn't argue with him and I listened patiently as he reminded me that I need to think in terms of a chronic illness that we need to keep treating. I can't really take a (longer) break because we need to keep managing the illness.

I told him that I understood. That I know that the treatment I am on is our first line of defence and that the longer I stay on it, the more chance there is for the second, third, fourth and fifth lines of defence to be developed and improved.

He said, "Well, that makes me feel better. When I saw the note in your chart [that I wanted to ask for two months off], I got a little worried."

I reassured him that I am not planning to bail on treatment, I'm just feeling ground down and fed up.

Dr. G. also reminded me that, "Although, it's great that you have remained with no evidence of disease for so long, there is likely cancer somewhere in your body. Statistically, there is something there." But then he added, "But we don't know enough about Herceptin in the long term. Maybe you're cured. We just can't know."

"Cured." Nice word, that.

And I get it. I really do. And I know that while I was incredibly unlucky to end up with metastatic breast cancer (especially in the liver), I have been fabulously, gloriously fortunate to end up in remission. I know so many other wonderful women (Jeanne and Rebecca, for example) who have had to move to regimens that are harder to tolerate.

I can accept the fact that I will be in treatment for the rest of my life, with only very short and very occasional breaks. I can even make the best of it. And I can feel pretty positive most of the time. I think I am also allowed to get pissed off every once in a while.

On another note, my spouse wants you all to know that the Xmas tree in my back yard is "next winter's firewood." It hasn't been chopped, though. Maybe we are going to have a bonfire in my living room.

the brain of a monkey

First:

My spouse and I had the following conversation this morning:

T.: "I had a really hard time falling asleep last night."

Me: "Did you have monkey brain?"

T: "What? Like I couldn't stop thinking about bananas?"

Second:

I woke up feeling kind of bummed out this morning. After coffee, my mood changed dramatically. I actually tweeted, "I think I love coffee the most."

Third:

Speaking of Twitter, a bunch of folks have changed their time zone to Tehran, in order to confuse Iranian censors. I've done it, too, although I am not sure if this really works. And I love the fact Twitter and Facebook are playing a role in helping activists all over the world get the word out. Makes me feel virtuous and less like I am just wasting time (although, I know it's a stretch to describe playing a Scrabble knock-off and commenting on my friends' status updates as activism).

Fourth:

Just over one week of school left. Double-edged sword, that. S. has had a fantastic teacher this year. Can't say the same of D. His teacher was complaining that he does his own thing too much, like reading a book by himself during story time. Um, perhaps this is because he is READING NOVELS while she is teaching the kids what sound the letter 'a' makes. Sigh.

Next year, he is switching schools and entering the "gifted" program (this term is a "don't get me started." Both my kids have tested as "profoundly gifted." My friend M. says we should just call these kids "idiosyncratic learners." Another terrific teacher once said, "It's just another kind of spec. ed." These kids have their own set of learning challenges and my older son is thriving in the program). It will be great to have the kids in the same school.

Fifth:

My older son has been asking for guitar lessons for a shamefully long time (shameful because music is an area of my kids' education that we have sorely neglected). I just signed him up for Rock School. If he enjoys the week, we will sign him up for lessons.

Sixth:

I have never set foot in an Abercrombie and Fitch. The fact that this beautiful young woman was relegated to the stockroom because she has a prosthetic arm has ensured that I never will.

Seventh:

My Xmas tree is still in my back yard. I think that's kind of sad.

Eighth:

I am seeing my oncologist in person for the first time in months, this afternoon. I plan to give him a copy of my book and remind him that we discussed taking a break this summer. I plan to skip treatment in July (so I can go to BlogHer). I also want to ask him if I can take August off as well. If he has any hesitation about this at all, though. I won't push.

I promised.

Ninth:

Posting gratuitous photos of my son being goofy (future blackmail fodder for sure). Noticed that I look even goofier in that hat but decided that censorship on that basis would be hypocritical. Thanks to my bro-in-law for capturing the moment with his cell phone.

down and up and some parentheses

Well, hello there.

It's been quite the week.

On June, 10th, I woke up with a sore throat. I didn't take my temperature until early afternoon, by which time it became clear that I was running a fever. I called the nurse who works with my oncologist (I'm supposed to do this, since I have a suppressed immune system, thanks to chemotherapy) and was directed to go to the emergency room at the hospital connected to the cancer centre.

I really, really balked at going but within three hours I was home with a prescription for penicillin (I think chemo recipients get fast-tracked through emergency these days). I was moved pretty quickly to my own treatment room (the most traumatic moments came when I was asked if I minded if a less-experienced nurse accessed my portacath. Within minutes, there were five nurses in the tiny room, in addition to my spouse and I. There was lots of fumbling and it took a couple of tries but eventually they got things working). After examining me, the doctor concluded that I was "a very sick person."

What was foremost on my mind, as I lay waiting for the doctor (in addition to the observation that having strep throat or the flu is nowhere nearly as scary as cancer), was that the Toronto launch for my book was supposed to happen the next day.

I spoke to my publisher but decided not to make any decisions that night, in case I felt better the next day (that was a mix of denial and delirium). My GP called the next morning to check in on me and said, explicitly what I needed to hear, "You are sick. Don't travel." (No kidding)

The publisher decided that morning that they would proceed without me. I was disappointed but understood completely. I sent out a few messages to that effect and went back to bed. When I awoke, I found out that the event had been postponed. I was pleased and sent out another round of emails, tweets and Facebook updates. I am sorry if I confused any of you with these messages (and even sorrier if you showed up for the event to find out it was cancelled).

Everyone at Women's Press was really, really kind to me and very sympathetic about all the scrambling they had to do at the last minute. I will post an update when we re-schedule the launch.

In other news, we had a sleepover involving eight 11 year old boys on Saturday night. My house will never be the same. What made us do this (other than love for our son)? More denial. It appears I am still very good at it.

I also took two extremely excited 6 year olds on the O-Train to the movie theatre. We saw Up. I loved it. And the little dervishes settled down and were mesmerized for the duration. It was the quietest part of my week end.

choosing to feel relief

J-Dog, ignoring the paparazzi.

Have you ever been so afraid of something that you've been unable to talk about it

That happened to me early last week when I found a lump under my dog's front leg (in what I keep thinking of as his arm-pit). My heart stopped. I took my hand away and checked again and it hadn't gone away.

As memories of finding the lump in my breast came flooding back, I found myself saying out loud, "This just can't be anything. Lumps can happen for all sorts of reasons." But I felt really queasy.

Over the next couple of days, I kept checking (my poor dog was getting rather irritated with me). The lump clearly didn't bother him (but neither did mine). It felt hard to the touch (bad) but it seemed to move around a bit (good - but I wasn't sure this wasn't just wishful thinking on my part).

Last Thursday, I bit the bullet and took him to the vet. He felt at the spot and said, "It's a fatty tumour." He put his hand on my arm and said, "Am I worried about this? No. And it's not bothering him but if you are worried, I can remove it. Or I can do a biopsy."

"It's benign?" I stammered.

"Yes. It will grow slowly and he will probably get others but unless it starts to bother him, we don't need to do anything." And then he repeated, "I am not worried."

It was a good appointment. The vet pronounced both dogs to be "perfect" (I'd brought in Lucy, too), gave them their shots and told me to have a good summer.

So I left, feeling europhic.

In the last week, I have felt some niggling doubts, though. I know too much about cancer. I know far too many stories of people who were told that lumps were very unlikely to be cancer, only to find out the worst. Why would dogs be any different?

But the truth is, that I don't know what I would do if the lump were a cancerous tumour. Probably nothing very different. I can't imagine subjecting my dog to cancer treatment.

It was so hard losing Emma but she had lived a long life. I cried for Eli, who died a few weeks ago (we still owe him a eulogy). Losing Jasper, though, who's only nine, would break my heart. We call him my boyfriend (especially when we exchange meaningful glances and sneak off to bed together). He is sweet and quirky and very, very smart (he hid behind me when the vials came out for the vaccinations, even before he saw the needles). He's an old soul, too, as many have remarked. I am choosing to believe that all is well. The alternative does bear consideration.

I am not the only one who loves this dog.

Gratuitous photo of Lucy.

through the years

I missed doing a birthday post for S. this year. His birthday was on May 10 and he turned 11.

My beautiful, sweet boy is on the cusp of adolescence. He is smart, funny and talented and a really good person.

These attributes will serve him well as he navigates the waters ahead.

It does seem like only yesterday, though that he was typing on his first keyboard.

1998

2006

2009

the archives excite me (and not just because i'm married to a librarian)

I love where I live.

I have spent time in almost every Canadian province and territory (I have never been to Saskatchewan or Nunavut). I have lived in small towns and a big city. I am convinced that I am living in the right place for me (I note that it's easy to write this as I sit in the back yard with my laptop on a cool day in late spring. The weather extremes - which are frequent - do test my love). I love the scale of Ottawa, it's beauty (lots of federal money gets poured into keeping the capital attractive) and, most of the time, it's character.

If we had a decent transit system, things would be even better. We could also do with more bike lanes. And we need to fix the potholes so that riding my bike wouldn't be such a jarring experience. But, all in all, Ottawa is just big enough that there are lots of things to do and small enough that it doesn't take too long to get most places.

This past weekend, was Doors Open Ottawa and my family decided to visit a few places that were new to us.

First, we went to the warehouse behind the Museum of Science and Technology (the museum is long-overdue for an expansion and houses far more items in it's warehouse than it has on display, yet the exhibits never seem to change). However, when we got there, we found out that you had to make reservations to get on a tour and that the next tour was not for another hour (note to Doors Open planners: It would be great if this fact were noted on the program for the weekend). My youngest son opted to stay at the museum with a friend and his dad and the rest of us (my older son, spouse, sister and brother-in-law) decided to move on.

Next up was the Gladstone Theatre. The woman who greeted us at the door explained the renovations that took place when the theatre changed hands a couple of years ago. She also told us that, this past season, the plays with a more upbeat theme were infinitely better attended. This influenced the choice of plays for this year's season, all of which will "have you leave with a smile on your face." (My sister whispered to me that the last play she saw, pre-renovation, was called Stones In His Pockets and that it was excellent. That's kind of the opposite of the theatre's current offerings, though). Once inside, we were given an excellent and informative demonstration of the theatre's lighting and sound room (is that what it's called?).

My only complaint was that the theatre had scheduled auditions for the same day as Doors Open and we were asked to leave ten minutes after our arrival (our presence when they were warming up must have been nerve-wracking for the actors. This would have been another good thing to note in the program).

From there, we went across the street to the gallery owned by the Enriched Bread Artists. I have walked by this building many, many times and I thought they made bread there. In fact, the factory was closed a while back and a group of artists bought it to create studio space and a gallery. One of the artists, Danny Hussey, took time out from his work to greet us and answer questions about finding time for art, his background and inspirations. And we saw some very interesting art. I'll go back.

The last place we visited turned out to be my favourite. The City of Ottawa Archives is currently housed (they are moving to a bigger space in the fall of 2010) in a building designed by Moshe Safdie, who also designed the National Gallery and the building has a similar feel, with a ramped entrance, lots of natural light and vaulted ceilings. It was built on an Island and has a stream flowing under the building. It must be a great place to work (and to sit outside having lunch).

What I loved best about the archives, though, was the vault.

I loved the sprinkler system and the fact that their are little disks with wax on them. When the wax melts (from heat) the sprinkler comes on in only that area gets sprayed, thus keeping water damage to a minimum (ingeniously simple).

I loved learning that when old photos disintegrate, they smell like vinegar.

I loved seeing the mayor's robes that have been worn by all recent mayors except our previous one (the archivist said that Mayor Chiarelli declined to say why he wouldn't wear them).

I loved the art and the sports equipment (there was once an abortive attempt to establish a sports hall of fame in Ottawa and the Archives acquired all the exhibits). These will create some wonderful displays in the new building.

I also loved the old ledgers and maps and records of this city.

The Archivist must have loved me. I kept squealing in delight and saying, "That's so cool!"

I might have been less vocal a few years ago but I see no point in holding back positive feedback. I was interested. I was impressed. I was enthused.

It was fun.

book launch 2.0

This is cutting a little to close to home to be as amusing as it should be.




The guy in the video is Denis Cass (who, as it turns out, has a pretty cool web site) and his book is How I Almost Lost My Mind Trying To Understand My Brain.