The Cruel and Unusual World of Ann MacKid

So thaaaaaaaaaaaat's what she's been up to!

2008-04-17T14:18:00.001-07:00

http://schoolgoblin.blogspot.com/

The Colledges: One year on

2008-02-04T22:58:00.000-08:00

Today is Bruce and my first anniversary, and what an incredible year its been. Its been a year of incredible love, adventure, learning, growth, pain, joy, and amazing surprises.

I've learned so much:

I have learned that there is no such thing as a "fairy tale" marriage. Every marriage is real, and there is nothing wrong with that.

I have learned that it will never be perfect; but that doesn't mean it won't be brilliant.

I have learned that you can be angry with someone, but that your love, respect and admiration for them won't waver for a moment.

I have learned that you have to go into it committed to never come out: it takes no great courage or strength to divorce (anyone can give up or run away) - it takes incredible courage and strength to make your marriage work.

I have learned that there are three things that make a marriage work: love, acceptance and forgiveness.

And I have learned that I have the most wonderful man on earth for a husband.

Here's to another brilliant year with you, my love.......

An utterly pointless posting

2008-01-22T02:12:00.000-08:00

There is nothing amusing, or charming or delightful about this post, as all of my posts are... ;-)

But I can't tell you how I've been hanging about for a year for the release of "Sweeney Todd". Sondheim is an amazing composer and librettist, but Sweeney Todd has been a favourite of mine for years.

I don't know how Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter will handle the incredibly challenging score (even the great Patty LuPone -who played "Mrs. Lovett" in the 2006 Broadway revival - admitted that the score was a complete b@stard); but I am so looking forward to hearing my favourite songs ("The Worst Pies on London", "A Little Priest" and "God that's Good") brought to life, and shared with people that have never been exposed to this marvellous work. Sweeney Todd has been a masterpiece since Angela Landsbury debuted the role of Mrs. Lovett)

While I have no idea how Tim Burton has handled the material, I hope that people that have never experienced the pleasure of Sondheim will truly enjoy this dark and delightful oevre...

Confessions of a mad stepmother

2008-01-13T16:01:00.000-08:00

I have a dirty little secret that for too long I have kept hidden. Its one that I have been afraid to discuss, because its something that no-one talks about. Something that makes me feel like a failure as a person, and one that for a long time, I felt was better off not seeing the light of day.

You see, I am a step-mother; and my filthy little secret is that I am not entirely comfortable with that.

There – I’ve said it.

I have not instantly and totally fallen in love with my husband’s son, our relationship and the idea of step-parenting as a whole.

My husband is a remarkable man; delicious, funny, spiritual, creative, decent, honest and a hundred other things besides. He is my best friend, my lover, my partner, my guide and my spiritual brother.

It’s why I married him. But he is also a father by another woman, and that’s awkward, to say the least.

In being placed in the position of instantly becoming a stepmother, some incredibly complex issues have been raised – and ones that for too long have been swept under the carpet because they are simply not things you talk about. In today’s world of complex family arrangements, it seems assumed that a person will be comfortable in whatever role they are plunged into, so experiencing discomfort with your assigned role is not an easy subject to raise.

Like most step-families, ours was brought into being under the burden of complex issues: Bruce never wanted to be a father – it’s the main reason we remain childless – and yet for better or for worse, he was cast into a role that was…well…. complicated. So we - as a couple - are bound to an ex-wife and a child that we simply have to include in our lives together. But we are not custodial parents – indeed, we only see Bruce’s son once or twice a week for a few hours. And figuring out the shape of a relationship in that context has been surprisingly difficult.

It raised questions for me that I felt had no answers: who am I in the life of this kid? Who is this child in my life? And who is this man I married when the child is around?

For him, I am not a “mother” of any sort: he already has a mother (and a very good one, I am told). And you cannot “mother” a child in only a few hours a week, anyway.

I am not a “friend”: he has friends, and the simple fact that I am socially on a par with his father makes that impossible.

I am not a guardian, teacher, pastor, social worker or any other adult paradigm that a child might encounter.

And for myself, I am not instantly and completely in love with him, although he’s a neat kid, and fun to be around.

And yet he’s not some random child that we are asked to babysit on a semi-regular basis. He’s my husband’s son – and my husband will have a relationship with him that I will never be a part of: indeed, my husband will share that part in the drama with another woman, which naturally feels as though it mars the completeness, or the wholeness, of our union.

If it weren’t so sadly prevalent in our society, it would be the stuff of soap operas.

Friends that I asked about all told me to ‘relax’, to not worry about it, to not get stressed over it. And yet, none of my friends actually are step-parents. None of them understands the challenges of the situation from the inside. And so, it was never discussed - until the other day in church, when I met an old friend of Bruce’s whose wife was going through the exact same thing I am. She, however (and God bless her mightily for this) was not afraid to talk about it – and in a curious way, that gave me permission to explore this idea; to air this dirty secret, if you will.

I went searching for resources on the intarwebs, and discovered, much to my relief, that there are indeed others in this admittedly awkward situation, and there are resources available to them.

Sally Bjornsen, author of “The Sassy Stepmother” says..

When I got married a few years ago, the media had just released a rash of reports on the dismal outlook for any woman over thirty hoping to get married. According to experts, I was in my marital sunset years and damn lucky to have landed a living, breathing straight man who wasn't drooling or in need of a sugar mama. I could hardly believe my good fortune…But, there was one minor detail; my knight had small family complete with two boys and an ex-wife nearby. Love-struck and relieved that there was still at least one good guy left, I willingly overlooked what seemed like mere minutiae at the time and pursed the relationship with gusto!… Distraught that I wasn't enamoured with my role as a stepmother, I sought some practical counsel from friends and family on the dos and don'ts of keeping the romance while helping to raise someone else's kids. Much to my chagrin I found that no one in my circle of confidants had any helpful advice because they hadn't been there.

In a review of a book called “Stepfamilies: Love, Marriage and Parenting in the First Decade by James Bray, Ph.D., and John Kelly”, I found that they had a chapter entitled “A Stranger in My Own House: The Part-Time and Full-Time Stepmother."

Without even reading that chapter, I knew exactly what they were talking about.

And in an article entitled “The Ups and Downs of Becoming an "Insta-Parent", the author says:

"Stepparenting can be a real shock for women who have never had any children of their own. Preconceived gender roles assume that women are automatically programmed to "mother" in a mothering situation. At the same time, stepchildren already have biological mothers who often resent another woman on her "turf ….

If she's been in contact with the children from the first marriage, she will frequently be put into difficult positions vis-à-vis people outside the relationship. …She may be treated with suspicion, be greeted with unsolicited advice on her role, or be burdened with unrealistic expectations.”

It was astounding to discover that others had not only found themselves in the same position; but were faced with the same emotional and practical challenges.

Often times, when confronted with my role as “stepmother”, I encounter feelings and attitudes that I don’t understand. In the past, I couldn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was – until I realized that I had no idea how I was supposed to be feeling. I had no experience in a step-family situation; no experience being married; no experience with children of my own.

I was spectacularly unprepared to be a step-parent.

And that’s been challenging, not only for me, but for Bruce as well. There isn’t much available in terms of resources, either, for fathers that find themselves in the position of marrying women that aren’t instantly and completely thrilled with suddenly having to form a family relationship with someone else’s child. But I have to say that Bruce has been my hero in all of this, and I know that together we will figure it out – in fact, its only thanks to his understanding and support that I am even able to explore this.

But I guess the biggest relief is to know that you’re not alone in something that you find difficult to cope with - regardless of what that thing might be. In my case, I never talked about my deep discomfort with being a step parent because I was afraid that I was the only person in the world that felt this way, and that I was a complete failure for feeling the way I did.

So my approach for managing my situation was to turn to God, and to ask Him what the proper approach was. The path that I found worked for me was to try to understand how to be ‘faithful’ to the way in which God teaches us to act in situations and relationships that we find difficult. I try to act with humility, patience, grace and kindness – to support Bruce in the challenges he faces in the situation, and to strive to be a blessing to those around me.

Of course, me being me, I often fail quite dazzlingly at all of the above, but I do try.

So perhaps I am writing this – thinking aloud if you will – because I am beginning to think that I might actually have something to offer to the community in which I am serving. The vast majority of kids I see in my role as chaplain come from blended families, and I am certain that there are other step-parents out there that are also struggling with their role. Perhaps there is room for a discussion group for people in this position.

I am open to suggestions :-)

Controversy

2008-01-06T20:05:00.000-08:00

gosh its been a long time since we've had some of that, wot?

This is a reply to a blog posting by an old friend about homosexuality. He is a good writer, a good person, and his ideas are well thought out.

But I really feel I have to respond; and I welcome any thoughts and ideas that this might generate.

As a Christian, I do not have an animosity to homosexual sex. I just believe that it is wrong, for one simple reason: God said so. He also said that ANY sex outside of marriage is wrong, and I believe that too; like I believe that murder is wrong, and theft is wrong etc etc. And, having engaged in much wrongness in my life, I have much to be repentant of, like that night in Phoenix with the nun, her two dogs, and that bottle of Stoli....

But I digress.

See, God didn't ask us to go through the bible and choose the bits we agree with; He didn't tell us to go and rationalize new rules and throw out old ones, He didn't tell us to walk away from Him because we disagree with His opinion.

For whatever reason He chose (and well, His planet, His rules) he decided that some things were right and some were wrong. Maybe it makes sense to us, maybe it doesn't. That's not the point of faith. If faith were logical or could be seen to meet rules of logic and common sense, it wouldn't be faith.

God had His reasons, and we might never figure them out. I mean, who can know the mind of God?? Indeed, there are some things we know are in the bible simply to allow us to prove and strengthen our faith. Its got nothing to do with logic, or common sense, or rationale.

Its all about faith.

If we have a relationship with God, He asks us to obey Him, whether or not we agree with His choices. So regardless of what our intellect tells us, or our hearts - God made the rules, and we either obey them, or we don't. Christians who disagree with homosexuality (for example) are not being "right wing" or "hysterical" or "fundamentalist" or any other epithet we are routinely stuck with. We are not hate mongers, or bigots, or violators of human rights.

We are simply choosing God over ourselves, our culture and the choices that the world makes. For myself, I have dear friends that are gay, and I love them to bits.

But I still choose God.

As Bruce is fond of telling me: "There is a God. You ain't Him."

Lots of love,

Annie

Out near Toowoomba...

2008-01-05T03:47:00.000-08:00

... businesses are more up-front with their advertising.

Ever wondered what happens to your old TV when you throw it out?

2008-01-03T22:58:00.001-08:00

NOW WHAT???

2008-01-03T01:07:00.001-08:00

So what do you do when your stain remover works TOO well??????

2007-12-30T23:28:00.000-08:00

Or waaaaaaaay past it?

I will NEVER work with sheep again!

2007-12-26T16:53:00.001-08:00

Oh the Christmas Pageant at the Community Hall was going so well - in rehearsals anyway.

I had been "voluntold" earlier in the week that I would be assisting with the directing part of the show: the scriptural tableaus - coaching the actors (well, other voluntolds, I expect) on bringing the scripture passages being read out over the course of the evening to life through mime, movement and well... mime, I guess.

We had some great people giving of their time and energy - Andy and Andre, Charlie and Ellie, Adam, Andronikus, Brent and John... all upstanding members of the community that had one thing in common: they weren't afraid to wear robes in public.

But there's always on actor in the lot that thinks the world of himself; that is NOT a team player; that is temperamental, moody and ruins it for everyone.

And for us at the Samford Community Church's Annual Christmas Pageant and Sausage Sizzle, it was this stroppy b@stard:

I SWEAR this stinking bugger will never work on stage in this town again as long as I have something to say about it!

And it had started so well. We began our evening rehearsals with our usual pilates warmup...

The men were all in dresses.... I mean costume....

The cast was in place....
And despite the fact that this miserable DIVA spent the rehearsals munching on costumes, sandals, props and a matte-black stage riser, he STILL ruined the one scene he was starring in:

All he had to do was run, with the shepherds, from one side of the stage to the other. But nooooo! It wasn't bad enough that during the rehearsals he decided that it wasn't in his contract to run from one side of the stage to the other; during the actual show, he decided to throw in the death scene from Hamlet!

That wretched, smelly, woolly little no good so-and-so decided to throw himself on the stage in a huff and lie there, pretending to be asleep!

Our wise-men were too ashamed to be part of it!

One third of our shepherds fainted...

And the other half tried to kill each other!

It was an utter disaster.

Next year, we are using goats.

The Colledges Go to Ikea

2007-12-22T04:48:00.000-08:00

We went shopping today to an Ikea on the south side of Brisbane that dwarfed most airports. After a half hour in the carpark, looking for (and finding) a park near the entrance (but nowhere near the exit, curiously) and a VERY large plate of Swedish meatballs and flugenshnugen, we set off on what was to be a three-hour tour.

We were determined to find a gift for the three-year old son of friends of ours - a three year old that drives mind you - and we couldn't decide on the stuffed rat or the stuffed spider....

or the psychotic beaver:
... but we did find a little something to spice up our marriage:

But Ikea is a GREAT place to buy gifts for Christmas. I don't want to spoil anyone's surprise, but we got TC and Janine some Skarvolderkars, a lovely Hugenplugfen Skroken and Grandnad for Jeannie and Greg; and a year's supply of Fruggenbilden Toendershcnicken for the neighbours.

We were going to get a really cute Graben-Knacknurl for my mother, but we couldn't decide on a colour.

And Bruce didn't want to take these off...
... and can you blame him?

Catholic Prite?

2007-12-18T18:59:00.001-08:00

Anglican?

The manger's a rough place

2007-12-17T19:47:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or do these two shepherds look like they're about to lay a beatdown on each other??

Goodbye my sweet Badger

2007-12-16T15:13:00.001-08:00

No cat was ever more loved.

R.I.P.

I love my job....

2007-12-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

My jeans are soaked through, there is tinsel in my hair, glitter on my arms, I have been deafened by a series of team chants and I've heard one too many children say "I can't find my pants".

That's right, today was our annual swim carnival.

The smell of hamburgers roasting on the barbecue filled the air; parents scurried too and fro with stopwatches, hats, sunscreen, goggles, swim togs and bottles of icy water, teachers were hollering only marginally louder than the children, and by 10:30am the temperature had reached 32 degrees with about 93% absolute humidity.

Brisbane in summer is a sauna.

By the time I arrived, one 9 year old girl was already in tears because she'd been disqualified from the butterfly race. I was relieved to find out she'd merely been disqualified for doing the breaststroke. Knowing how competitive these children are, it wouldn't have surprised me if she'd failed a random drug test or been arrested for interfering with a competitor.

Then the cries of "Chaplain Annie!" filled the air and within thirty seconds I had fourteen children hanging off me like cicadas off a gum tree. In short order I'd been offered my choice of muddy, sweaty towels on which to sit and was immediately inundated with indignant questions like "Whose team are you cheering for????" Foolishly, I made the mistake of answering "Well, no-one's". I didn't realise it at the time, but that apparently made it fair game for the children to mark me as their territory by weaving tinsel with team colours into my hair and covering me with coloured glitter. So enthusiastic were they I was only mildly surprised when their marking me for "their side" didn't actually involve human urine.

The children are wonderful, of course, and normally I don't mind sharing my ample lap with them; but today, a succession of wet bottoms have left my jeans soaked through. My litre bottle of icy cold water with lime cordial was passed from child to child like whisky in a brown paper bag, and in no time the bottle was empty. Still, I was treated to the inexpressible delight of a frozen ring of pineapple by a group of children that pooled their change to buy me a slice from the food stand. Somehow, a treat bought with hot, sweaty five-cent pieces is even more delicious than caviar.

The day was long, but tremendous fun. There were cheers and laughter, tears and fights. There were those children that were flush with victory, and those that were beating themselves up over losing a race. Hugs and a "high five" work in both situations. There were those that lost swimming caps and those that found their lunch had been stepped on. There were tins of spaghetti, gummi worms, sausages and frozen bananas to go 'round. There were quiet kids with their noses in a book, and loud kids with their noses in your face. There were cliques and loners, BFFs and children discovering their inner fascist dictator.

In other words, there was enough work for a Chaplain to do.

Great mis-heard moments in the bible

2007-11-19T16:46:00.001-08:00

(copyright unknown, but God bless the farker that created this one)

THIS is crouched outside my toilet as I write...

2007-11-19T03:08:00.000-08:00

What can I say but "AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYOHDEAR
LORDNOOOOOOOOOOOOGETITOFFBWAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAUUUGHHHH
HELPMEJEBUSNAAAAAAAAAOHHEEEEEEEEEEEELPGETITOFFFFFFFFAAAAHHHHH
BBBBBBBBBBBGAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKK!!!!!!!"

I mean, its the only sensible response.

And I am SO not using our toilet until 2008.

Let's paaaaaaaaaarty!!

2007-11-08T16:13:00.000-08:00

One facet of my job is spending time in a classroom setting with children that have emotional, spiritual or social issues; getting to know them, spending time with them, developing a trust relationship with them.

Another facet is the care relationship with our teachers, so sometimes, on "wet days" (where lunches and morning teas must be taken indoors), I like to go 'round to the classes and help with the kids - letting the teacher have a break and giving me a chance to get to know the kids.

Yesterday, was my kindergarten (or "prep" class) day. I spent the morning and lunches drawing pictures of pirate ships, making play-doh pizzas, dancing a conga line and learning the YMCA dance.

This is apparently part of the core curriculum in Queensland. Who knew?

But the real joy was excitement of the little ones about their "prep disco" tonight. They are ecstatic about heading off to the community hall to "boogie" (yes, a child actually dared use that word), and to "shake their butt" (although, with Oscar's speech impediment, I heard him say "shave my butt". Knowing little Oscar, I wouldn't put it past him...)

I asked them what they would be wearing, and some said they were going to wear a pretty dress - including one boy, oddly enough; some said they were going in swim togs, and a surprising number will apparently be going naked, or with underpants on their heads.

Australia is a social minefield, I tell you.

And children are weird and wonderful creatures....

The SAS of God's Army

2007-11-05T22:28:00.000-08:00

This is how school chaplaincy has been described here in Australia: as a covert force operating behind enemy lines. Where ministers try to bring people into churches - safe territory for the Godly - the chaplain's mission is to go out into the community where there is no safety. Chaplains are charged with learning the language of the schools we are in so we can speak of God in a way that will be heard; we are under fire from those that do not believe that religion has a place in schools; we are wary of children and parents that might make false and damaging accusations against us; and we are sometimes the only person of faith charged with speaking the Gospel in a school community of thousands.

And yet we are part of something incredible here in Australia. The Australian Federal Government has poured 165 million dollars over three years into school chaplaincy. That means that in Queensland alone, 140 of us hit the ground running in early October, and the next round of hiring begins in a few weeks. Over 500 schools now have access to a Christian of faith as part of their regular, daily life. Thousands upon thousands of children, school staff and families now have the Gospel planted in their communities, and that number will explode over the next year. The Lord is just pouring out His Spirit on this country, I believe; putting His Word where it matters so much: our schools. He is reaching out to the children, their families and those that care for and educate them.

What an incredible, awesome God we have.

And as for me? Well, as many of you know, being turned down by the Diocese of Brisbane was the most hugely liberating moment of my spiritual "career". Indeed, I am in awe of the fact that within six months, I have come from a country that has never heard of "school chaplaincy" and been transported across the planet to become a minister in a school. And yet, doesn't Acts 17 tell us to expect that?

"26From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. 27God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 28'For in him we live and move and have our being.'

I had always expected to be classified as a "minister of religion"; but I suppose that I always understood that to require the collar. Here, legally, in the eyes of the government (and more importantly, the taxation office!), chaplains are classified as ministers of religion; and I am thrilled to realize that I need no collar, no denomination (Scripture Union is an ecumenical Christian organization), no affiliation to any particular church.... to be a minister here in Australia, all I need is a bible, my scruffy old jeans, some hand sanitizer, sunscreen, and a heart for God's work in the lives of families and the community.

As a primary school chaplain (Prep 1 (kindergarten) to Grade 7), I am hoarse by the end of morning tea, my bible has glitter paint all over it, my chair is sticky, there are animal cracker crumbs stuffed into my filing cabinet, I write bible study notes in crayon, my office (and I am one of the few chaplains blessed enough to have one) is furnished with bean-bag chairs, stuffed animals and posters of the word "LOVE". My typical day can involved anything from helping a young child understand why his mother walked out on the family while he was at school one day, to a day-trip to Sea World. In striving to be open to the Holy Spirit, I am learning to shape the message of God into something that children, the unchurched, the God-fearing and the religion-fearing can all hear and accept.

I am part of an incredible ministry team, from the "Local Chaplaincy Committee" that works to raise funding for the chaplaincy in the community; to Scripture Union that administers the hiring and training of chaplains; to the local churches that have come together to ensure that God is entrenched in the local school; to the parents, friends and families that pray for God's work to be done here in the local community.

And the incredible gift of being able to live and minister in your own community has proven to be both thrilling and disturbing. I cannot go to the fish and chip shop, the chemist or the local supermarket without a dozen children (many of whom have names I am struggling to remember) coming up for a hug, a chat or to tell me about something that happened to them that day. I run into parents wherever I go, many of whom I see later in my office for a quiet talk. I can no longer go out without makeup, or in my track pants, or cross the road against the lights, or use colourful gestures to the driver that cut me off in the parking lot. And last Friday, we took my husband to the local pub to celebrate his birthday, and I found myself facing a real moral dilemma as I queued up at the bar to buy him a birthday cocktail, and spent the time chatting with the half-dozen kids and their families that came up to say hi.

And today, my biggest challenge is to decide which Scripture Union camp to volunteer for over the Christmas break: do I want to go the beach? Rollerblading? Enjoy a day trip to DreamWorld? Learn to surf? Naturally, on all these camps, my job is to be there to care for the kids as they enjoy a summer holiday; to talk to them about life and God, to listen to them, love them, play with them, coach them, and model the fact that Jesus loves each and every one of them deeply and completely.

It may be my job, but it’s certainly not work!

Operation Christmas Child

2007-11-05T05:33:00.000-08:00

Operation Christmas Child is an extraordinary endeavour that it is my great privilege to be a part of here in Australia. It is a simple act of kindness and giving of the sort that truly shakes the foundations of the world. And there is an amazing poignancy in watching the magic unfold.

As part of the life of Samford State School, acts of service and giving are not only encouraged, but built into the curriculum. Operation Christmas Child is one such initiative. For the last few weeks, as we ramp up to Christmas, our school assemblies have been forums in which a deeply touching video from Samaritan's Purse (the organization that oversees Operation Christmas Child) is shown again and again. It shows the amazing joy that comes in the third world with receiving an unexpected and unconditional gift; it shows the happiness, the ecstasy, and the delight that children in deeply underprivileged societies feel when presented with a simple shoebox filled with delights that we, in the first world, take for granted.

And yet, were I administering this project, there is another video that I would make to show people; and it would star my own hero - Bruce.

We are not rich people - Bruce works very hard to earn a decent living for us - and a Chaplain's wages are almost an insult to Christ's own teaching - but there is an incredible "other side" to the story that I think needs to be told as well.

This weekend was Bruce's birthday, and on a day on which we should have been celebrating his special day, we walked into Crazy Clark's (a local discount chain, and one much like "Dollar Stores" everywhere") and I reminded Bruce that we needed to pick up items for our own Operation Christmas Child shoebox.

Bruce was immediately engaged.

"Boy or Girl?" I recall him asking. I told him it really didn't matter as long as the package was filled with age and gender appropriate items.

"Right, then. A boy. " he said, the father of a nine-year-old boy himself. "What do we need?"

"Well," I said, as we steered into the toiletries aisle, "something for personal hygiene. What do you think a boy might like?"

"A toothbrush" came the immediate reply, and I watched as my husband scanned row after row after row of children's toothbrushes to find just the one "a boy" might like.

"How old?" he asked me again. I replied that we could simply decide on say... somewhere between six and nine, and fill the box with suitable items.

"Right," he said, and I watched in amazement he carefully looked over each toothbrush to see if it was not only a "cool" design, but had a head that would fit into the mouth of a little boy that he would never meet. He rejected the "duckies" and the "bunnies" immediately, but gave serious thought to the snakes and robots before finding the exact one he thought a little boy might like.

The toothbrush decided on, he asked what was next. Following Samaritan's Purse guidelines, I said "something to play with". Off to the toy aisle it was, and my suggestion of a selection of "jungle animals" or "dinosaurs" was rejected as being "too lame" for a little boy. So I watched in amazement as Bruce took his time looking over each and every model car before deciding on a replica taxi.

"A taxi?" I asked.

"Well, yes," Bruce replied. "I don't think he'll have TV, so these 'monster trucks' won't mean anything to him; and he probably won't know what these modern, North American cars are. But he'll know what a taxi is, won't he?"

I was deeply moved by the love, care and thought that Bruce put into selecting Christmas gifts for a little boy he'd never know, in a country we may never visit. And as we worked through the list (something to write on and with, something sweet to eat, something to wear and something to love) I had the immense privilege of watching an incredibly loving, giving heart search out just the right coloured paper and pens to draw with; just the right kind of shorts to wear; just the right flavour of lollies a little boy might like... and watching Bruce walk up every aisle and sift through every table of merchandise to find just the right singing toy elephant a little boy might want made me realize that there is so much more to God's giving than meets the eye.

And as we walked out to our shiny, new, less-than-a-week-old car, I told Bruce that I was really touched by his immensely giving heart and caring soul; and his response floored me yet again:

"Baby," he said, "If I could afford to send 30 of these, I would."

And while Bruce is my hero, he's not the only hero out there. In fact, its hero's like him that make Operation Christmas Child the success it is.

And that is the documentary I'd make: not the one that shows the incredible joy of receiving an unexpected and unconditional gift; but one that shows the immense joy in giving it.

"We of the Maybe Maybe"

2007-11-04T03:02:00.000-08:00

"We of the Never Never" is famous Australian novel from the turn of the last century, detailing the adventures of an Englishwoman, "Mrs. Anaeas Gunn", as she moved to rural Australia to live in the outback with her rural Australian husband, erm... "Mr. Anaeas Gunn". It is also a wonderful movie, directed by Igor Auzins; and was for a very long time a favourite of mine, mainly because it featured a very young John Jarratt and Lewis Fitz-Gerald stuffed into tight trousers, spitting in a manly fashion and wrestling horses.

*sigh* But I digress.

In her classic novel, "Mrs. Anaeas Gunn" describes her challenges as a new wife, and more importantly as a new settler in this magnificent land. Through her eyes, I felt - as a new settler to a rural area myself - that in some small way I had connected with her; and curiously, it was as though this remarkable woman were reaching across the centuries to teach me about the dangers of rampaging livestock; the culture clash between the white man and the native, the risks posed by angry bulls and the fact that some men viewed trousers as a privilege rather than a necessity.

What she failed to warn me about, however, was snakes in your toilet, spiders the size of chihuahuas, moths in your pants, flies in your ears, and the dangers of rampaging possums.

Indeed, as I reflect upon my own "settling in" period here in wonderful, rural, Samford; I am reminded of the words of that great philosopher, Melman:

"Ahhhhh! Nature! It's all over me! Get it off!"

I wish I could convey to you, dear reader, just how...erm.... "natural" life is here is beautiful, rural Samford.

Why, simply going to the toilet after dark qualifies as a National Geographic Special; and the experience has actually taught me that there are indeed some nature encounters where only the word CRIKEY!!!!!!! will do.

Many of you have heard about the time I woke up with a fly in my ear. (For those of you dear readers that haven't: I once woke up with a fly in my ear. It was a moment filled with new understanding of God's creation, a deeper connection with nature, and me running around like a five year old girl shrieking "BRUCE!! THERE'S A FLY IN MY EAR!!!! THERE'S A FLY IN MY EAR!!!! "

Good times, good times.

Then there was the time I cavalierly zipped myself up after a pleasant enough period of meditation only to discover I wasn't alone in my trousers. As kinky as it sounds, it isn't as thrilling as you might think to discover a tickle in your trousers that you are at a loss to explain; only to discover - after some hasty investigation - that you aren't the only creature zipped into your pants.

In all honesty, my heart goes out to the wee moth. NOTHING that I am not married to should have to suffer like that.

And it gets better: I have learned what it is to enjoy the al fresco experience of a toilet which is not only an outdoor adventure playground, but also an entomologists research lab. I have shared my most vulnerable moments with many a species of moth, spider, skink, cockroach and gecko; and will in all honesty admit that I will never take going to the toilet for granted again.

You see, for most of you, this basic biological function consists of simply entering a private room, doing what you need to do, and exiting gracefully.

Not so in Samford: for me, simply going to the toilet involves asking myself:
a) how badly do I really need to go?
b) can I outrun a huntsman spider with my pants around my ankles if I have to?
c) how likely is it that the toilet/ my pants will be filled with wildlife, and
d) WHAT THE #$(#^ IS THAT GROWLING SOUND OUT THERE?????????

Thank God I have a nature expert like Bruce around to tell me that if we simply turn out the lights, those thousands of tiny flies clustering around the overhead lamp will stop annoying us by falling off the ceiling and into our bed; and that that huge ground tunnel three feet from the house (big enough to admit John Goodman) was likely made by a snake; or that that awful smell from the back cupboard is "not a worry".

I feel much better now .....................

God is LOVE

2007-10-23T22:29:00.000-07:00

Its been a bit of a down day; "being there" for children in need - children whose parents are splitting up, children whose grandparents are dying, children who are being beaten at home or who are being bullied in class - can be wearying on the soul.

And yet the job is just as uplifting. And standing as a testament to that, may I introduce "Chaplain Annie's LOVE Project."

This is my personal crusade to paper the walls of this - the Chaplain's Room - room with the word LOVE.

I pray that each person that walks into the room when this plan is complete will be assailed from every corner by the word LOVE: drawn, crayoned, pencilled and sparkly-painted by tiny hands and enormous hearts. They pile in here each morning tea and every lunch time by the dozens - tiny, perfect little creatures with sticky fingers and bright eyes, hats askew and uniforms stained with chalk, chocolate and magic marker - chattering like cockatoos nesting in an ancient gum tree. Their eyes and their hearts are focused so intently on finding just the right piece of paper and just the right marker, so that when they commit themselves to the task, their picture of LOVE is the prettiest of all.

I only wish that people could hear the musical accompaniment that goes with this celebration: dozens of sweet, high, sing-song voices packed into a room no larger than a bus shelter, all calling out at top volume:

"Chaplain Annie, can I colour with you?" "Chaplain Annie, this is my friend Amelia and she wants to play with you!" "Chaplain Annie, Renee is being mean to me and I feel sad. Can I draw a picture with you?" "Chaplain Annie, I can spell love without any help!" "Chaplain Annie, Charly helped me make this LOVE just for you!"

And the sweetest voice of all, the one that lifted me out of my doldrums today and reminded me why it is I am here:

"Chaplain Annie, my best friend is Jesus! And I am drawing this LOVE for my best friend!"

And as I blu-tacked them to the walls, glitter paint sliding off the glossy paper and onto my jeans, I caught myself humming that wonderful ditty "Praise Him Praise Him all ye little children, God is Love, God is Love", and realized that on top of everything, I now have a theme song!

Bruce has been toying with the idea of getting new sunnies.....

2007-10-20T17:41:00.001-07:00

I don't think that's a half bad idea, do you?

Reflections on Chaplaincy

2007-10-18T20:22:00.001-07:00

Chaplaincy really is part of the backbone of God’s front-line work, as I am told, and as I am coming to believe. This is where God’s work is really done: in the midst of people – people that know God, people that want to know God, people that only have the vaguest impression of who God might be. It is working amongst the young, the old, the troubled and the uplifted; it is being a part of the lives of a community in a way that the priesthood can’t be. Here, in the chaplaincy, there are no denominations, no complex theological or political imperatives, no ecclesial issues to cope with: there is only God, His Word and the journey that both you and your community are on.

In the priesthood, you are stationed in a church, and your drive is to get more people into that church.

In chaplaincy, your call is to bring God out to the community as it stands: to model His love, to do His work and to spread His work where the people are at. This make you a critical part of any community-based ministry team, as you are working hand in glove with the local churches without being bound by any of them.

As I move more firmly into this position, I am struck by just how deeply embedded in the community it is: I cannot go to our local supermarket, chemist or fish and chip shop without meeting up with at least a half dozen children from the community (and their parents); and I am struck by our interconnectedness, and the fact that Holy Spirit is a part of us all, a guide to us all and the foundation of our community – regardless of our “declared faith”.

What an incredible privilege this job truly is.

My Morning Commute

2007-10-17T16:11:00.001-07:00

This is my morning walk to work:

Take the road down to the back of the paddock, and keep going straight past the dogs until you get to the pony track.....Hang a right to the meadow (watch out for the plovers as they have clutched and will take your head off if you come near their nest)...

Once you get to the meadow, keep going straight until the turnoff into the forest (just before the brown horse with the limp)

Once you're in the forest, keep going straight until you get to the mudhole. Go around the mudhole and up the hill past the gum trees. Keep going past the broken log and take the second turnoff after the puddle.

You can't miss it.

The New School Goblin

2007-10-11T16:20:00.000-07:00

Tracey, one of our year lovely young teachers, came tumbling into my office with Lorelle, the deputy-principal (and my supervisor), grins lighting up their faces like Christmas; and what a story they had to share!

It turns out, they related with giggles of glee, two young girls had approached Tracey on the playground earlier that day and asked if she had seen "Miss Annie".

Well, we have a new teacher named Annie as well, so naturally Tracey was confused as to which "Miss Annie" the girls were looking for, so she asked who they were looking for.

"You know," said one of the girls, with more than a hint of exasperation (I am told), "Miss Annie, the new school goblin!"

*sigh*

That's the sort of thing that sticks to a person.....

Has it really been six months since I've written?

2007-10-10T23:24:00.000-07:00

My goodness, how time flies. Australia is a beautiful place, and I suppose time gets away from you.

So much has happened in these last few months:

Bruce and I celebrated our beautiful wedding reception
in beautiful Samford with family and friends, and I spent a week in beautiful Auckland, New Zealand, obtaining my VISA.

*sigh* So much beauty.

Bruce continues to work as an engineer in the workshop at the end of the property (and in my estimation) gets handsomer by the day:

And after a brief stint (and I DO mean brief) working for a company that produces court and evidence transcripts, I was hired into my dream job - as a school chaplain at Samford State school.

I am so blessed that my walk to work (yes, I am one of the priviledged few that get to walk to work) is a 20 minute stroll through the back woods. Apart from having to beat off the blowflies, spider webs and snakes, the walk is a tranquil and peaceful beginning and end to the day.

Bruce and I live in a fairy-tale cottage

.....(front view)...........

and despite the fact that the fairy tale is actually "Shrek": .....................................................(the view we probably
.......................................................shouldn't show you)..........................................
we are very happy here.

So are the snakes in the roof and the toilet, but that's another blog.

So there you are, all caught up. I'll post more regularly now because I know you all can't get enough snake in the toilet stories....

Catch you later!

aussie, aussie, aussie, oy, oy, oy...

2007-04-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

its a sultry autumn day as i hang out the washing on the line. overhead in the gum trees, the crows mock me, their cries comical and derisive, gentle yet sarcastic. a magpie alights at my feet, its head cocked this way then that, trying to figure out when it was i moved into the neighbourhood. the cockateils screech and shriek from their perches, a gaggle of white-haired old harridans, their daily routine upset by the interloper below.

my first week in australia has come and gone, and my education has only begun. this week alone i have learned to enjoy little-league soccer, fix an over-cooked lasagne, nurse my husband through a nasty bout of food poisoning, celebrate ANZAC day without getting arrested, and program computer chips like a pro.

soon, i will get behind the wheel of the "three eyed hak" - my husband's beige toyota station wagon -if nothing else, to test his intestinal fortitude. i will seek a library card. i will learn to drive to arana hills and back. i will ride public transit.

like my God, my husband is my rock and my refuge. it is with great compassion and good humour he copes with a wife that has left her entire life on the other side of the planet to join him in his world. i have left behind both good and bad: my friends, my family, my church, my pets; a mother that is struggling financially, and relatives determined to make the situation worse, not better. through my ups and downs he calms me, soothes me, supports me, listens to me, loves me, offers advice when he has some, shuts up and listens to me moan when he doesn't. he is a man that shows his love in hundreds of little ways - going shopping for me when he is ill, sacrificing a day with his son to ensure i have a phone - and one who never expects a moment's recognition for his kindness and caring. my husband is the man that keeps a sweater in the car because he knows that his canadian wife is having trouble adjusting to the australian climate, and that in allowing her to operate the air conditioner, he must prepare himself for the very real possibility of hypothermia.

i have friends here that have embraced me with kindness, openness and charity - people that treat me as though i have never been away. i have family here that have opened their lives to me with grace, kindness and good humour. i have friends across the globe that keep their hands staunchly outstretched to me that i might never slip and fall on their watch. there is a charming young boy in my life that my husband has blessed me with as well - one who shines with a sweetness, an innocence and delightful good humour, as a copper penny shines in the queensland sun.

i have learned that water is a scarce commodity, to be treated with respect and conservation. i have learned that daddy long-legs spiders have a courage about them, and defiant nature i very much admire; and that against all odds they are welcome guests in my kitchen. i have learned that i have a pronounced accent, and that when people say "pardon me?", it is not that did not hear me, it is that they haven't understood a word i've said. i have learned that shouting "aussie aussie aussie" in a packed bar on ANZAC day will get you tossed out before 3:30pm, and that in brisbane, it can be pouring with rain even as the sun is shining brightly overhead.

this is a magical, wonderful place; rich in smells, sounds, sights and wonders beyond my imagination. it is a place of ruggedness and luxury, of hardiness and sensuous pleasures; of hedonism and honest Christian values. it is a complex and wond'rous place, and in my heart i have never been happier, more blessed, at peace and at home.

but for now, i am content to simply bask in the warm april sun, hanging out the wash, as the crows heckle my efforts, the cockateils settle in to gossip about the newcomer and the grasshoppers zing merrily though the lazy autumn afternoon.

how soon the evening comes.....

2007-04-22T19:47:00.000-07:00

the rhythm of youth

2007-03-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

people have always asked me why it is that i am so passionately called to children's and youth ministry.

oh there are so many reasons, my friends!

i love the way they tell each other stories...

watching them gently interact socially...

seeing the instinctive way in which they minister to each other without adult intervention...

watching them frolick happily together....

seeing them play so gently with their toys....

.... but i think i can say with all honesty that its so easy to be satified in it. indeed, any day that doesn't end in death or multiple fractures can be counted a success!

FINALLY!

2007-03-21T15:52:00.000-07:00

the answer to a mystery that has no doubt been plaguing australians for years

memories of Oz. volume II

2007-03-04T11:23:00.000-08:00

things i have learned about australians:

they are tough:

what for us was a lethal upper respitory disease that crippled tourism to toronto for a year is, to an australian, a refreshing beverage.

even their yogurt is menacing:

notice how effectively the product placement people have gotten the yogurt to "lurk"

not to mention the intimidation tactics used by their trash bins:

you'll be please to know, that as a canadian, i do as i'm told...

memories of Oz. volume I

2007-03-04T11:21:00.000-08:00

things i have learned about australia....

in australia, the wombat is sacred:

as my husband quipped, "of course its still "under construction". they won't be installing sattelite until monday!"

interim blog #1*

2007-02-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

this is why, when you close down your business in toronto, you should always take your sign with you.

*while i recover from a month of overseas travel, crossing the international date line twice, eloping to new zealand, being wrenched away from my new husband, going from 35 degrees above celcius to 29 degrees below in the space of 24 hours, initiating the nightmare that is the australian VISA process and recovering from a cold.**

**not that i am complaining or anything.***

***really, i'm not.

may i introduce

2007-02-05T16:55:00.000-08:00

mr and mrs bruce colledge
christchurch, new zealand
february 5, 2007

sing with me....

2007-01-20T20:12:00.000-08:00

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'm ...

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

But I'm leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
(Leaving) On a jet plane

packing checklist

2007-01-19T09:06:00.000-08:00

shoes? CHECK

jeans? CHECK

underwear? CHECK

cat? CHECK

oh dear Lord no

2007-01-16T07:19:00.000-08:00

no, please no.

it appears that edward george has a brother, and he's coming to visit for a wihle.

don't they know this is a bad time for visitors???? this is so unfair!!!

somebody please shoot me now.....

MORE????

2007-01-15T15:02:00.000-08:00

MORE???

you want me blogging MORE???

do you all think i am some kind of machine???

don't you realize that my life is in shambles?? i am packing to move, and packing to travel to australia. for the last six weeks my life has been poured onto boxes: its been a month since i've eaten off a dish that wasn't absorbent, used a knife that wasn't doing double duty as a screwdriver, ripped open box after box because i can't find my apres-bain thermal citrus and kiwi oxygene booster body scrub (and i cannot LIVE without my apres-bain thermal citrus and kiwi oxygene booster body scrub!!!) discovered entirely new morphological species of DUST and its been at least three weeks since i've seen one of my cats!!! i have tape stuck to every surface of my apartment *sob* and i am wearing underpants that come up to HERE because i packed all the good stuff!!!!

and ON TOP OF THAT i have gotten a pimple so HUGE, so DISGUSTING, so IMMENSE that the people that run the hubble space telescope alerted the people that climb mt. everst who are now contacting me to ask if they can use my ZIT for training runs!!! its been 12 years since i have broken out and suddenly, a week before i leave to spend time with the love of my life i get a break out SO DAMN HUGE i named it!! *sob*

that's right! i NAMED IT and its name is edward. edward george!! its such a HUMOUNGOUS pimple that it even has a middle name!!! the fact that my ZIT is named after royalty is irrelevant, the fact is that as hideous and disgusting as i look i STILL HAVE TO GO TO AUSTRALIA because i didn't buy PIMPLE INSURANCE and you want me to blog more????

does the hysterical and slighty demented look in my eyes not tell you all you need to know? does not the hair say "my village called and their new idiot isn't working out so i need to go home"??? can you not see the desperate need i am in OF SEDATION????

i am on the verge of meeting the person who is my DESTINY and every one of my nails is chipped and broken, my face is a festering sore and i know for a FACT that i will wake up the day i leave FIFTY POUNDS HEAVIER and you want me to be AMUSING???

why don't you *sob* just stick a knife in my heart??? oh wait! i know why!!! ITS BECAUSE I'VE PACKED THEM ALL AWAY!!!

do you really *sob* all hate me that MUCH???

I CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS!!! WHY DON'T YOU ALL GO BOTHER AUNT AGNES?? SHE'S NOT DOING TOO MUCH THESE DAYS I HEAR. JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

*GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH*

i need martini and a fat free cookie... *sob*

meet the feebles....

2007-01-03T05:45:00.000-08:00

hey y'all,

there's someone i'd like you to meet.

she's really quite a lovely person, in her own disturbing way '-)

fascinating

2007-01-02T15:26:00.000-08:00

i am noticing that while i am trying to shed a few pounds before meeting bruce for the first time in person (sue me, i am a girl), i am having little success. clearly this is for one reason and one reason alone:

every ounce of body fat wants to meet him too.

and so, apparently, do my gray hairs. as a matter of fact, they seem to be particularly excited about meeting him as they have begun telling their friends to show up early and get a good seat.

addendum: should i be worried?

as many of you know, i am packing to move to australia

2006-12-30T14:12:00.000-08:00

and i know you are asking yourselves: "what is the secret of packing to move overseas?"

well, its good help:

THE ASSISTANT

THE COACH

THE SUPERVISOR

oi!

2006-12-27T18:17:00.000-08:00

what the heck is this bloody white stuff all over my steps???????

merry new year!

2006-12-25T15:02:00.000-08:00

from the man i love who got a picture frame as a gift from his future mom- in-law and the woman that loves him:

sound advice for living a happy, carefree life?

2006-12-22T16:09:00.000-08:00

or maximum strength feminine protection?

sometimes the lines blur.........

the CIBC/NSL 1st open gingerbread decorating competition 2006

2006-12-19T19:48:00.000-08:00

dearest, darling bruce...

please find attached a picture of our world beating and slightly disturbing entry to the gingerbread house contest. as you can see, while it perhaps lacks something in aesthetic value, all of the scriptural elements are there: the baby GIGANTIC Jesus swaddled in joseph's coat of many colours (clever use of metaphor there, i think), the wise man with a cracker on his head to keep the birds away, the matzo manger, camels and buffalo laying down in the hay, exhausted after laying those enormous, boulder-turds you see behind yon nude wise men. notice the miniature bottle of liquer-filled chocolate, brought as a present to the baby Jesus because the gift-shop was out of myrrh, lying next to the passed-out gingerbread shepherd who is actually simply overcome by the miracle he is witnessing. you see love, this is the kind of spiritual understanding that comes with an advanced degree in theology!

but i would, however, like to draw your attention to the amazing butterscotch-chip/chocolate-mint-stick/vanilla icing retaining wall in the foreground. i know your are just floored at how a simple ministry student like me could create such an architectural masterpiece out of sugar alone. makes me dizzy just thinking about it - but of course, without your magnificent inspiration, i really am nothing, which is the only part of this blog that isn't a joke.

What an inspiring scene! What a depiction of wonder! Three wise-ish men, having stepped out of the tardis behind them onto a strange and, well...strange planet, find themselves confronted by a giant baby and his wino guardian. This new learning amazes me. Especially now that gingerbread houses are coming with cladding! But beauty of form aside... far aside actually... it's culinary harmony of flavours that truly sets this work apart - way, way, apart. This is a scene that will appear to retain it's natural form even after consumption of the various elements has begun. Frank Lloyd Wright, Harry Seidler, Jamie Oliver - eat your hearts, and your shorts, out!

bruce
XXXOOO

i LOVE shirley temple!

2006-12-18T19:01:00.000-08:00

I've thrown away my toys
Even my drum and train.
I wanna make some noise
With real live aeroplanes.

Some day I'm going to fly.
I'll be a pilot too.
And when I do, how would you
Like to be my crew...

On the good ship lollipop.
Its a sweet trip to a candy shop
Where bon-bons play
On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay.

Lemonade stands everywhere.
Crackerjack bands fill the air.
And there you are
Happy landing on a chocolate bar.

See the sugar bowl do the tootsie roll
With the big bad devils food cake.
If you eat too much ooh ooh
You'll awake with a tummy ache.

On the good ship lollipop
Its a night trip into bed you hop
And dream away
On the good ship lollipop.

the prodigal returns

2006-12-15T05:55:00.000-08:00

finally! my ticket to australia!

i will be in oz this time from jan 24 - feb 11, and (God willing). bruce and i will be taking a weekend in new zealand over that time frame, as neither of us has ever been to new zealand, and that is where my best friend girlfriend, margot, is.

i am so excited to finally be going back. and why? well.... because i get to be with him.

i am so humbled and delighted to have this man in my life. i am so proud of him, so in love with him, so amazed at what an extrordinary man he is. i am so deeply appreciative that he creates a safe space where i can go to pieces for an evening when the immensity of emigrating begins to get to me; that he makes me laugh when i am not expecting it; that he guides me and teaches me as we pray together and study scripture together. i am so humbled that he shares the most amazing and precious thing in this world with me: his life.

if i had to walk to australia to spend only five minutes with bruce, i'd do it gladly.

right.

we now return you to your regularly scheduled nonsense.

how delightful! pugsley grew up to be a toy designer!

2006-12-09T13:01:00.000-08:00

i have been shopping for gifts for my sweet, wonderful boyfriend's son, a delightful 8-year-old that likes to wake up at 5am and enjoys golf. while i realize that a child that twisted ~~gets it from his father~~ deserves a gift that is just as twisted, it is heartening to realize that finally, we addamses are being catered to:

teach your child to be an internet terrorist

now,our dear, sweet angel can hack into the DHS database and add his friends' names to the list of registered sex offenders. what fun!

and how delightful! its "my first homicide"!

and daddy will have hours of fun hiding the bodies! its such a father-son bonding activity.

and here is another wholesome childhood past time. i remember doing this as a child....

imagine the peals of delight on christmas morning when the little angel tears off the wrapping paper and realizes the hours of fun he and his friends will have reconstructing the face of a cadaver so badly decomposed that the victim couldn't even be identified from dental records!

and yet there are gifts just too horrible even for us!:

thank goodness for the educational gifts, like the "big book o' wounds"!

its a wonderful book - just chock full of injuries!

the page on burns and sucking chest wounds is simply delicious!

OR, for the VERY practical parent, there is a hands-on migraine kit:

but then i thought, what about a gift that might encourage josh in an eventual career :

like "police officer"?

or something to encourage his natural athletic ability?

every child needs a complete home ass-kicking kit!

but finally, i thought i would simply buy a game that bruce and josh could enjoy together, as father and son:

oh, and i picked up a little something for myself too ;-)

CaUWOAM news flash!

2006-12-06T18:31:00.000-08:00

what else is there to say but "thank God"????

mmmm..... peanut butter.......mmmmmm banana.......... mmmm...... elvis........

dear bruce....

2006-12-06T15:44:00.000-08:00

i hope you had a lovely long sleep, and very sweet dreams.

i love you so much my heart, that even the fact that my face is a swollen, throbbing mass of agony from having a ceramic tooth pried from my jaws without anaesthetic by an uncaring and sadistic doctor (whose mother was a hammerhead shark and whose father ate babies for breakfast) so that he could then pound a cement-filled piece of gravel into the hole and hammer it in with the heel of his shoe while whistling the theme to the "anvil chorus" as i screamed and writhed in agony, begging God to take my life, weeping as the pain became more than i could bear, and cursing his offspring to the ninth generation hardly bothers me at all i am so happy just dreaming of you.....

have a wonderful day, my angel, and don't worry about me for a moment. nitsa, who doubles as our first-aid warden here at work, has wrapped a tourniquet around my neck, and while i am feeling a bit light-headed, she assures me the bleeding should slow to a trickle by this evening. and my boss, MC, God bless her, said not to worry about the carpet.

love you, catch you when you get home from roma.........!

WHAT???

2006-12-04T07:12:00.000-08:00

the lawrence west subway is undergoing an "upgrade".

these are the "steps" for their escalator system. for those of you not conversant with the genius of the escalator, each step in the escalator has two sets of wheels, which roll along two separate tracks. the upper set (the wheels near the top of the step) are connected to the rotating chains, and so are pulled by the drive gear at the top of the escalator. the other set of wheels simply glides along its track, following behind the first set.

so.......

am i the only one that is disturbed by the manufacturer describing them as "fragile"???

skool trip report by annie mackid

2006-11-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

today my skool went on a really neat trip to a creamatorium. this is a cool (ha! ha!) place where dead bodies are put into humungus ovens and burned all up. first we went into the church part of the place which was really pretty, but alan kept saying stuff like "what's that smell? did someone leave the oven on?"

he is such a kidder!

alan is SUCH a kidder!

we learned all about the place and how the guverment was real worried about the stuff that came out the chimneys so they had to watch the chimey all day long on a tv screen and it was like a movie only boringer. and we learned how the ovens run at like a million degrees and that the bodies have to stay in the ovens for like two hours before they are done. alan put up his hand and asked the guy how long they had to cook before they added the potatos. ha! ha! alan is so funny.

then we got to go downstairs and see the actule ovens with like real dead bodies in them and it was like watching csi which i am not allowed to watch. the man at the crematorim opened up one of the ovens then and we got to see a real live dead body burning! it was way cool and it looked like how it would look if your dad made a fire in your fireplace with the body of your grandpa instead of logs. then he told us about how cool it is (but daingerous) when the funeral home doesn't take out a dead persons pace maker from their heart and they blow up in the oven and could maybe kill the guy working ther but then we figured if that happened he'd probably get a good deal.

ha! ha! too funny!

then they showed us whhere the cofins were all stacked up and when mr. mercer wasn't looking alan got into one of them that had a dead guy from the university in it (the guy at the crematorium said the did like ten of them every wednesday from the university) and alan started banging on the inside of the coffinn and shouting for someone to let him out until the teacher got mad and told him to stop playing with the bodies.

ha! ha! alan!

after that we walked through a really smokey room to the back and brian kept trying not to breath because he said that if you breathed the smoke or opened your mouth it was like having dead person inside you and we all kinda got grossed out and tryed not to breathe but then colleen passed out and alan wanted to play a joke on her but the teacher stopped him before he got the casket open.

then we got to go and play with the ashes of a real dead person and they were way chunkier than we thought because they come out of the ovens with the bones all broken and stuff and they have a machine that turns them into dust like the way my mom's blender does to my brothers marble colection. we got to see a artifical hip replacement thing from the old guy they just toasted and thomas wanted to take it home but the guy wouldn't let him.

then it was time to go and we were gonna go for lunch but alan said that he wanted barbecue and we all got grossed out and so we didn't. but it was a fun trip to see how dead people burn and i can't wait until the field trip to the funeral home next week!

the end.

dentists must be a hoot at parties

2006-11-24T08:17:00.000-08:00

so i finally got a temporary crown put on the broken molar, which is both a relief, and rather disturbing as there is a tooth there that i know is not MY tooth. its like a zombie tooth.

still, it was wonderful catching up with my dentist, to whom i have consigned my teeth for the last 20 years or so. as i sat in the chair, waiting for the procedure to begin, a lovely turkish lady named "ozzie" (i kid you not) hooked me up to a water spigot, a suction hose (and what a strange, yet not entirely unpleasant sensation, having your tongue vacuumed is - ed) a machine that goes *ping!*, six cotton sponges to line my gums and a bite guard. then i got not one, but three injections of anasthetic. it was when i realized that my lips no longer were under my direct control was i ready for the dentist.

dr. fox: andrea! great to see you! how are you doing?

me: hi ho hay. hanccchachayy hehihihig.

dr. fox: terrific! so what have you been up to?

me: ay ang hoooohinh ho ngauhayiiiaahhh.

dr. fox: australia? really? that's amazing. when are you going?

me: hnegnedayheee

dr. fox: wow. its hot in brisbane that time of year. you have someone special there?

me: gnech! he ig a hangahim hang aaaa iiii hucccchhh hing heggy huuhhhh.

dr. fox: well, you'd have to to go all the way to australia for him! what's his name?

me: hoooccchh

dr. fox: and what does he do for a living?

me: hneee hang hennyheeehhhh. he gnaggg a hoong ayyyy ung hungagaaah gnag hang ay hanh hoogn neeng oooonngaaa ayy.

dr fox: ha! ha! still have the same sense of humour, i see. how's your mum?

dentists are such sociable creatures. i can even forgive him for the zombie tooth.

mmmmmmmmusk

2006-11-23T15:29:00.000-08:00

dearest, darling bruce,

thank you so much for the care package you sent yesterday. the waterproof keyboard is indeed a great help considering the gift you have for making me laugh while i have a mouthful of hot beverage, cold beverage, or goulash. i also very much enjoyed the delicious biscuits you sent me, and have tucked a few away in the kangaroo scrotum bag that i picked up in australia on my last visit. i am told that there is no better material for keeping food fresh than a scrotum!

i was also quite delighted by the musk sticks you sent. thank you! i was drooling just reading that this delicious confection was made from sugar, "humectant" (and to think that just the other day my doctor told me that i needed more "humectant" in my diet!) sulfides and the anal secretions of a certain species of deer. i can't imagine why the rest of the world doesn't enjoy this treat as well!

now, while an interesting candy, to say the least, it elicited quite the variety of reactions here. to the uneducated palet, the flavour was described as being like "soap", "incense" and "something that's been in a closet too long". cameron said it was rather like eating mennen speed stick, and expressed a thirst for some old spice, but for all of that the packet is empty and one or two people came back for another.

sadly, nitsa didn't take too well to it. as we speak, she is sitting at her desk, sucking on an exfoliating facial cleansing pad to get the taste out of her mouth, and while MC didn't like it too much either, she did take a couple home to her kids, because as you know her hobby is messing with their heads. i will admit i did get a kick out of watching people enjoy this first taste of a rare delicacy; some of them looked as though they were nibbling on sugar plums and turkish delight. others looked as though their tastebuds were dying a horrible death; screaming in agony as they withered and died, dropping from their tongues onto the floor of their mouths like a flock of tiny little sparrows flying through a cloud of methane emitted by a very large herd of musk deer.

but i digress.

thank you for enriching us and introducing us to something we've never tasted before. personally, i actually thought it was rather tasty, but then again, i very much enjoyed 'battlefield earth'.

i love you very much my sweet baby, and cannot wait until we can share such culinary delights together. i am dying to introduce you to canadian delicacies such as poutine, which is greasy french fries, unfermented cheese curd and lumpy brown gravy (i know, i know, you are drooling already!) and will kill you as surely as a bullet; hungarian delicacies like disznoszajt which, as you already know, is the entrails of a pig, spiced, chopped and stuffed into its skull to ferment; and jewish treats like "kishkes" which is flour and goose fat wrapped in intestines. yum!

my only question, naturally, is what sort of wine might go with stuffed intestines or head cheese?

all my love, annie

the crowning glory

2006-11-22T18:24:00.000-08:00

i broke a tooth over the weekend. it was a molar, and am having a crown put on today. as much as i really hate the thought of dental work, i think the way i broke the tooth is a funny story, actually. ok well, maybe not funny, but amazing anyway.

see, many of you don't realize that in my spare time, i am angelina jolie's stunt double. yes, i know many of you have commented on the resemblance, and my natural, goyischke athleticism; but really i do it out of the goodness of my heart because while the money is good, i really don't want my girl "anje" to get hurt. i mean, she's got kids and all.

so we're filming here in toronto, which is doubling for calcutta (we're at the corner of gerrard and greenwood) and the stunt co-ordinator dude, mordechai, says how cool it would be if "his little angel-ah" (yeah, that's what he calls me *giggle*) took a bullet in the ribs and then came out swinging with the scottish claymore she is using to battle the six swedish ninjas before bringing down the scud missile with the kalashnikov and riding away on her katana to do battle with the giant squid (man, this movie is gonna kick ASS!!! -ed)

so anyway, brendan gleason, who plays the evil "mustafa ibrahim bin hassan" says "yeah, that'd be cool" and fires the prop gun, only - and these prop guys can be SUCH kidders! - its REAL gun that fires at me. now, i am so totally lucky that ages ago i apprenticed to criss angel, and he taught me how catch a bullet between my teeth; so between the time the gun fires and i realize what's going down and think "ok, no biggie, its only a 9mm" i realize that i'm gonna be just a smidge too slow (shouldn't have had that extra helping of goulash for lunch, i think) its too late and i can't catch the bullet with my incisors, and so it was when i was eating hot lead that my molar cracked, and now i have to go to the #*#%$ dentist.

that frozen chocolate peanut had nothing to do with it.

shameless plug

2006-11-18T11:47:00.000-08:00

you really need to check out this blog.

brock is a dear friend, and a genuinely funny guy.

enjoy!

do modern toy designers smoke crack?

2006-11-12T11:57:00.000-08:00

you be the judge.

i am trying to get more of this in my diet

2006-11-07T15:44:00.000-08:00

i mean, soup is good for you. it is warm, nourishing and quite nutritious.

yes.

i definately need more in my diet.

canadian standards of engineering excellence

2006-11-04T07:44:00.000-08:00

to my friends who also happen to be engineers, i ask you: whose job is it, exactly, to measure french fries and ensure that they are compliant with current legislation, and what qualifications are required for such a position?

through my eyes

2006-11-02T19:02:00.000-08:00

the jews teach that God does not allow any child to be born unless it has a mate. now, there are those might ask "what about those that spend their lives alone?" well, the midrash has many answers for that, but the basic principle is that every creature has its partner.

i had to wait 37 years for bruce, and it was worth every moment. i had to go through a ridiculous number of relationships that were very, very bad (likely because i am a very, very slow learner), and yet each of these experiences was worth it because through them i have learned profound lessons that have allowed me to truly appreciate this man in a way that i would not have been able to before.

you see, today is the happiest day of the year for me. it is bruce's birthday.

today, i am celebrating. no, strike that - today i am rejoicing!

i've often mentioned bruce in my writing. some of you have met him here as "oz_broooster", and come to enjoy his thoughtful, insightful and often hilarious commentary. in the better part of a year we've known one another he's become the pivot around which my life and my future revolve - and the reason that many of you have very kindly and very generously sent out internet "search parties" to see if i'd dropped off the face of the earth. but while i have alluded to him on many occassions, and expressed my feelings for him ad nauseam, i haven't actually taken the time to introduce you to the man that i know, the man that is different from every other man i have ever known; the man that i have waited 37 years for; and no, i am not going to gush - i'd simply like to lay out why it is that bruce is unlike anyone i've ever been in a relationship with, and why it is that so many of you - even without meeting him directly - can sense that he's "a keeper".

now i am not going tell you how wonderful, smart, sexy, intelligent, clever, sensuous, passionate, funny and sweet he is. while those things are all entirely true; as it was once pointed out to me, those are things that i have said about previous lovers. no, i will only leave here, as a testament, the things about bruce that set him apart from the others.

bruce has made himself into a remarkable man. oh, he assures me that there was a time when he was not nearly as refined as the man i have come to know and love, but unlike other men that i have known who simply talk about the need for self-improvement in the abstract, bruce has intentionally undertaken a difficult spiritual journey that has involved an enormous amount of candor, self-reflection and analysis; and an active, determined drive to change those parts of him, as best as he can, that do not adhere to God's law and intentions, and basic human decency.

his overall character is immensely likable - indeed, before i ever realized that i loved him, i liked him tremendously and quickly came to consider him a close and dear friend - someone that i knew i'd enjoy hanging out with; someone that fits the australian definition of "a mate" as i have come to understand it. my earliest impressions were simply of how much i enjoyed his company, his fierce intelligence, his conversation, his openness and affability. he has a very welcoming, confident presence about him; he gives one the impression that he is comfortable inside his own skin, and that when he looks in the mirror, he likes what he sees. yet for all of that, he is no proverbial "nice guy": he's no pushover. there's an edge to him, a darkness and a danger that lurks not too far below the surface. he gives the you sense that he is a man that can inflict serious hurt, but lives each moment intentionally choosing not to; choosing to live in kindness and gentleness instead.

bruce has made himself into a man of great integrity. he's a man that is up front about what he'll do, and he does what he says he will. while he is a man of great creativity, he is not one prone to idle flights of fancy: when he gets it into his head that he wants something, he is able to apply common sense, determination and focus to the problem. he has worked as hard as i have to make both our dream come true: it is bruce that has been doing most of the legwork on how it is that i can transfer schools and immigrate.

he has a mind like lightning - powerful, incisive, and one that is sometimes prone to zig-zagging about madly - and to me, that is a characteristic i couldn't live without in a partner. i have had relationships with men who were funny, clever, and good with words - but bruce goes beyond simply amusing: he has genuine wit; and his gift with wordplay is remarkable. he can begin a pun in one paragraph, divert your attention like a magician for another two or three, change direction once or twice then slip you the punchline when you least expect it, and still have it all make delightful sense. the impact of his gift with words often leaves me breathless with laughter.

he has the strong heart and loving soul of a pastor - his friends come to him for support, advice, caring and someone who will give up important parts of his day to be there for another. i have never once known him to begrudge this, though sometimes it has cost him time out of his own busy day.

and the one thing that amazes me above all: he has the ability to bring out the best in people. i am a testament to that. having been with someone that brought out the absolute worst in me, i am simpy astounded at the person i am with bruce. people have commented on it: i am told i seem more relaxed and happier; i have been told that i too, seem to be very comfortable inside my own skin, that i smile constantly, that there is a glow about me. my own mother tells me i have become more patient, approachable and open. old friends i run into ask me what's changed; tell me i seem "different", and that they like the change, whatever it is. this has only come about since meeting bruce. he makes me feel safe, protected, cared for, respected and supported. even when he disagrees with a course of action i have chosen, he is open to hearing my reasoning, is willing to reflect on it and remind me that i already know that whatever i choose, he will be behind me 100%.

now, as some people have seen elsewhere in cyberspace, it doesn't mean that my tolerance for B/S has been upped by so much as a decimal point; but this is a man so sure of God's guiding, steadying hand in our lives that he can look me in the eye and say "baby, don't you think i know what you are capable of? and don't think for a moment that is diminishes my love for you at all." he inspires my faith, guides me deeper into a life in Christ - he has become my guide, my partner, my best friend; we pray together, study scripture together, plan a life of ministry together, laugh together, and can talk about anything from the nature of God to leech attacks. in six months we have never quarrelled, never exchanged a harsh word, never disagreed on anything we couldn't work through with love, respect, prayer, reflection and honesty; and i know that coming third in his life, behind God and his son, is absolutely the right place for me to be.

i love you bruce, and i know that in 20 years i will look back on this piece, written at a time when i had only scratched the surface, and i will reflect fondly back on these early days and think "what did i know then?"

happy birthday, my heart.

i don't know what to think

2006-11-01T18:18:00.000-08:00

exactly how bad an employer do you have to be to make offering a paycheck your number one recruitment point?

i want candy!!!!

2006-10-31T18:40:00.000-08:00

hallowe'eners and beans

2006-10-27T08:13:00.000-07:00

while john has posted a very insightful and concise history of hallowe'en on his profile (which is worth hanging around on no matter what), i realize there are christians that struggle with it.

i am pleased to announce i am not one of them.

and why?

in a word: candy.

the argument has been made that as hallowe'en's roots are pagan it should figure nowhere into the christian holiday calendar. well, my learned friends - if that's the stance you want to take, ~~you can't have any of my tootsies rolls~~ you'll have to throw out a huge chunk of easter and most of christmas too.

i think, (and upon occasion i do) that the more relevant question is, is halowe'en still a pagan holiday? well, it is still celebrated by pagans in parts of the world, but then so is easter - so i don't think that means we should stop celebrating easter or the chocolate fest that's become either. rather, i'd hope we might take a look at what hallowe'en means to us as a community, our children and the canadian diabetic association.

hallowe'en is a marvellous social event. it is one day a year that parents can get out into the neighbourhood and actually meet their neighbours. children dressed up as ghosts, ballerinas and wads of chewed up bubble gum (yes, i had a troubled childhood, what's your point??) are a guaranteed ice-breaker: conversation with someone you might see once a year doesn't have to be forced or stilted; and for your child's part, the little biatch that wouldn't put on that fifty dollar cher costume i reserved for her in july but noooooo… she has to be a gypsy! who the hell dresses like a gypsy anyway and is that my hermes tie???? that adorable little ragamuffin gets candy.

lots and lots of candy. now granted some of it is that cheap dollar-store candy that's made in someplace like kuala lumpur and tastes like a benobo's ass; but you know that even that cheap candy will get eaten in december before the christmas candy rush starts. and the barter potential of much of the good candy you get will get you out of at least one beat-down at school because your parents sent you out dressed as a wad of chewing gum and let your sister indulge her fantasies of being a bag lady.

and as for the adults, its a prime opportunity to get to know which kids belong to which parents, where they live, who their brothers and sisters are, who are being taken around by a really hot nanny, and which are being raised by that really cute single dad with the lexus down the street.

and did i mention there's candy??????

and the debate whimpers on...

2006-10-26T08:54:00.000-07:00

funny, in my conversation yesterday with the archdeacon here in toronto, some very strong words on sydney's position on this matter were spoken (and not by me, believe it or not!)

archdeacon fenty described it as "revolting" and "repugnant" and an affront to the ministry of all believers and the way that expresses itself through all humanity.

i'd be interested in your views....

http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,20639440-5003402,00.html

what an amazing weekend this was!

2006-10-23T17:34:00.000-07:00

the church of the resurrection celebrated its annual retreat this weekend and it was a weekend filled with laughter, BACON, reflection, conversation, fellowship and worship. fairhaven retreat is a SAUSAGES lovely campus set back on acres and acres of land abloom in PANCAKES autumn glory, and though the rain was a bit disheartening, it did manage to hold off until FRENCH FRIES the last day. our theme this year is "who is my WAFFLE neighbour?", an exploration of just what it means to be a christian in fellowship with the world around us.

we arrived late on friday evening, most of us having taken a wrong turn on highway 48, but when we arrived, there was a good deal of fun and SCRAMBLED EGGS relaxation going on. it had been a long day, and i was tired, so i got my room key, bade everyone good night and headed out into the night to find my CHEESECAKE room.

the next morning we convened for morning FISH AND CHIPS worship and an early breakfast before meeting in the chapel for a discussion on HAM "hospitality" led by leeanne. i managed to miss that talk as i had volunteered to sit with the GARLIC TOAST children and watch VEGGIE tales and do some colouring and playing with RAVIOLI lego.

before lunch, dion - who is the director of the salvation army's ICECREAM gateway shelter for men - gave a moving and fascinating talk about "who is my neighbour in the community" and challenged us all to SPAGHETTI reach beyond our comfort zone and forge relationships that cost us time, money or both. he pointed out that true giving had a cost attached, and one that we were called on to gladly pay.

then came lunch, and afterwards was "free time". the facilities offered ROASTED POTATOS a hayride, leisure time and outdoor adventure which included orienteering and rock climbing for the CHERRY PIE youth. as one of the de facto youth ministers, and an ex-rock climber - naturally i opted for the GREEK SALAD adventure, and had a wonderful time outdoors with the teens, two trained climbers, and our assistant pastor's husband who will ever more be known as "danger boy!"

in the afternoon, dion resumed his talk on CHICKEN FINGERS the homeless and the needy, and some lively, meaningful WHIPPED CREAM discussion was had. after dinner, i headed back to my MASHED POTATOS cabin for an hour long call from bruce, and spent that time regaling him with tales of PEROGIES the adventures of the day. afterwards, we had the choice of a campfire and MARSHMALLOWS, a music jam night in the chapel or a movie in the lounge. being tired, i opted for the FUDGE CAKE "lion the witch and the wardrobe" before heading off for another quick chat with bruce and a lovely CINNAMON TOAST sleep.

the next morning we again gathered for worship and breakfast, and celebrated Ekko's fifth HAMBURGER birthday! then alan gave a talk on "who is my neighbour in the workplace?", and we moved into a delightful PASTA SALAD communion service where the sermon was replaced by a hilarious and meaningful skit presented by the youth on on "the good ROAST BEEF samaritan" then off for one last fellowship lunch, and all too soon it was time for home.

yes, all in all it was a wonderful FETTUCINI ALFREDO weekend, and i am sure many people got a great deal out of it. i know we are all looking forward to ALKA SELTZER next year!

the food was nothing to write home about, though.

advice needed

2006-10-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

~~some miserable bastard~~ a very dear friend of mine on the gold coast recently sent me something in the mail that ~~i can't believe made it past homeland security~~ i am at a loss as to what to do with.

from the smell, i initially thought "dead wombat", but it appeared to be something rather more sinister than even that. it came in the kind of overly cheerful package generally reserved for suppositories and head cheese; and when i cracked it open it appeared to be filled with a goopy, black, tar like substance.

so far, though, its proven to be quite useful! i've managed to waterproof my boots with it, winterize my tires, touch up the grout between the kitchen tiles and ~~substitute it for toad's blood in a curse i am levelling on my neighbour~~ fix the rip in my pvc raincoat.

there is just one thing i don't quite understand: as i read the package for usage instructions and first aid warnings i notice that it says "41kj per 5 gm serving".

any idea what that might mean??? what IS this crap anyway???

thanksgiving

2006-10-08T13:29:00.000-07:00

one of the hardest parts of living in the big city, alone, is that your loved ones are far away and not with you to share in the wholesome, family-oriented pleasures a city like toronto offers....

dear bruce

2006-10-08T12:57:00.000-07:00

hello, my love!

i can't tell you how excited i am about your upcoming birthday! these months together have been the most wonderful, happy, spiritual time in my life; and i look forward to waking up each and every day because i know i am going to spend that day falling even more deeply in love with you.

and i have finally gotten your birthday present in the mail! i still remember our discussion of how much you had enjoyed visiting canada, and how you were so drawn to our wildlife, so i really hope you like what i got you - although if you don't, its totally cool! i can kill and stuff something else!!

also, i know i probably shouldn't mention this, but of all my many gifts and talents - among which are, of course, spoon balancing, spitting for distance and accuracy, and applying lipstick without using my hands - the ability to wrap presents is not at the top of my list of brilliant abilities. i know the elvis commemorative pickle fork set you said you wanted looks like it was wrapped by a blind meth addict with parkinson's disease, but i tried! i really tried!

still, you are such a sweet, wonderful, compassionate man, i know that you will simply shrug your shoulders and say "that's my annie - top of her high school special education class five years in a row!" i am so touched at how proud you always are when you tell people that.

oh! and i hope the icecream cake i sent isn't too runny when it gets to australia. i know you are moving into summer down under, so i threw some ice cubes into the box. that should keep it cool on the trip! and please scrape off the the mushy bit on the top where it says "happy birthd uce". that damned dog moves so fast nowdays that i can't hardly keep up!

anyway, my angel... i can't wait until it really IS your birthday and i can call you to sing happy birthday to you over the phone in my own birthday suit! i mean, you won't be able to see it or anything, but with a love like ours, i know the honour system will be our bond!

i love you more than i can say...

your one and only annie

a theological question for australians

2006-09-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

a friend of mine, a recent immigrant to australia, posed a fascinating theological question, and we would love to hear your answers:

"If the Last Supper was held in Australia, what time of day would it be and what would be on the menu? "

as a theology student, and a devout christian, i believe my answer is both comprehensive and insightful (quit rolling your eyes! i can see you......)

a says: it'd be breakfast, they would have laid on anything that had a mother; tim tams and bundy rum; and the apostles would have been named andy, mate, johnno, phil, baz, mate, mate, jude, mate, mate, mate and who the f*** are you???

but tell me - what do YOU think?

hic incipit la vita nova

2006-09-24T17:16:00.000-07:00

i have always considered myself "a work in progress": a woman on a quest for self-betterment.

i have spent my life trying to be better today than i was yesterday, but not punish myself for not being as good as i will be tomorrow, or a week next thursday for that matter.

i try to develop my heart, my mind and my soul.

i have studied judaism, paganism, scientology, cardio-pulminology, ontology, oncology, oto-laryngyotomy and a few otomies i really shouldn't mention in polite company.

i have been politically active. like every good feminist, i burned my bra (although in hindsight, i really should have taken it off first). i have campained to save the rainforest, save the whales, save political prisoners in the sudan, save 3.00 when you buy six cases of mangoes, save the victims of various hurricanes, save the long-tailed, three-toed cambodian acne monkey.

i have strived to better myself physically. i have dieted and exercised. i have lifted weights. i have done yoga, pilates, spinning (THAT made me really dizzy, but i may have been doing it wrong, i'll admit), transcendental meditation and psychotropic medication.

i once tried primal scream therapy, but the other people in the library objected.

but for years i have shied away from the one thing that i knew for a fact would make me a better, kinder, smarter, faster, more egalitarian, politically astute, humble, vegetarian, and noble soul. but today, finally, i gave in to the inevitable.

that's right.

i bought tooth whitener.

hmmm..

2006-09-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

it would appear that the underwear department at the Real Canadian Superstore is getting a wee bit........ frisky....

a rare picture of my boyfriend and his son....

2006-09-23T16:08:00.000-07:00

well, you get the idea anyway ;-)

i love catherine willows

2006-09-21T11:08:00.000-07:00

(and not just marg helgenberger - the actor that plays her on CSI that is. )

and what's not to love?

in ten years - i want to be her.

see, catherine willows is everything i am: a single, working woman supporting her family.

she is also everything i wish i were: gorgeous, well-educated, professional, sexy, independent, mature, logical, and scientific with strong leadership skills and a butt you can bounce quarters off.

but more than that - she has really great hair.

i watch CSI in awe. i ask myself, how is that a gorgeous, sexy woman can kneel over the rotting corpse of a man that's had his head ripped off by rampaging squirrels, or the body of a woman drowned by her crack-addicted adopted daughter in a rootbeer float, or the cadaver of two circus clowns mashed to chunky salsa in a mafia meat grinder and look so utterly fantastic.

night after night, grissom is short-handed (God only knows why - that crime lab is staffed by every ex-star trek fanboy in the state of nevada), so he calls catherine, and after a long day of scraping things and collecting samples and sniffing guns she can still rush out to a crime scene with a head of hair that is at once bouncy, shiny and perfectly coiffed.

i have at least two hours each morning to do my hair and still i cannot achieve that look of tousseled strawberry-blond glory.

i spend hours each night watching CSI trying to understand and absorb the sheer perfection, the extrodinary flawlessness of catherine's hair (while still trying to decide whether to waste some drool on warwick, nick or (heaven help me) "le grissom" himself) and yet i simply cannot achieve the unbelievable fabulousness of catherine willow's hair.

i buy all the right products: i gloss, i ice shine, i deep condition, i towel dry, i revivify, i flowby, i hot roll, i spritz, spray and sproing my naturally wavy hair, but where catherine's look is says "dead sexy professional woman with it aaall together"....

my look simply says "village idiot"

all that's missing is the straw and a few fetchingly placed twigs......

SO not a morning person doesn't BEGIN to describe me

2006-09-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

school days are brutal. mornings simply aren't my friend.

bleary eyed and groggy, i awake to a scratchy wet tongue in my ear. for a moment i think i am back in bed with my ex, but then i realize its one of my cats, deciding that since its 5:30am, breakfast is long overdue.

i slip out of bed an manage to get my slippers onto my feet. it is enough for me at this point that i am simply wearing one per foot - getting them on the correct foot is beyond me.

yawning and scratching bits of me that really only get a good scratching once a day (oh, too much information, annie!!!!! - ed), i stagger to the kitchen and succeed in putting the kettle on. i grab a cup from the drying board, pry open one sticky eye to determine its relative cleanliness and pour one shake of coffee into it, two shakes of low-fat creamer and 36 shakes of sugar into the mug as the kettle boils. i manage to pour most of the water into the cup and retreat to the bathroom, biting down on my tongue to keep myself from screaming in horror at the zombie staring back at me from the mirror. taking a few deep breaths, i take a closer look and realize that the cherry-red of my eyes actually compliments the dead fish pallor of my skin in the early morning light.

only careful planning allows me to succesfully navigate the shower. after an unfortunate mix up a few months ago involving hair remover, a bottle of apple cider vinegar and a sea-sponge loofah, i have learned to keep these potentially deadly objects separated in the stall.

considering how tired i am, i decide to take very quick shower, shortening my regular beauty routine down to the barest of necessities: pre-shampoo colour lock treatment, hydrating extra-volume fortifying vitamin-enriched shampoo, deep-treating shine enhancing volumizing conditioner, apres-bain shimmer guard keratin-replacement therapy anti-dandruff split end repair gel, lavender and cucumber body wash, apricot and dead-sea-salt exfoliant, foot pummice, cuticle softener, in-shower hydrating skin conditioner, lilac baby-oil gel treatment for-elbows-and-knees, retinol and collagen firming creme with infused oxygen cellulite fix, and essence of orange blossom aromatherapy invigorator.

climbing out of the bath, i grab my hairbrush, apply toothpaste liberally and shave my legs with it. drying off, i apply deodorant to all the parts that really need it, and a few that might, and one that usually doesn't (but i have a busy day ahead of me.)

throwing on some clothes, it only takes me a few minutes to determine that the awkward, though oddly intruiging pinching sensation means i've put my bra on backwards, and i manage to find a pair of socks that match in colour, even though one comes up to just below my knee and the other barely covers my ankle.

i throw together some lunch and take very special care to ensure that this time the beef curry and the chocolate pudding remain in separate containers, then its out the door and into the most perfect autumn day imaginable, and i heave a sigh of relief that i have successfully navigated yet another hectic morning.

and i am not bothered for a moment by the fact the neighbours are all staring at me.....

its amazing how much of your time being in love takes up....

2006-09-17T20:46:00.000-07:00

i think my friends are feeling a bit neglected...

(thank you, brock)

i seem to be unwell....

2006-09-14T10:01:00.000-07:00

there is something very wrong with me, i believe.

for the past few months i have been feeling.....unusual (though not terribly cruel)..... i'll grant you, yet recently, whatever it is that is causing this ague seems to have intensified.

the symptoms are intense and pronounced: my palms are damp, my heartbeat races, i have trouble sleeping. i seem to have a compulsive need to check my email for love letters (which, i will say, never fail to arrive daily).

i giggle. often. my face cramps from smiling.

i am hallucinating, too. every time i close my lids i am haunted by images of a gorgeous man with a dead sexy smile, broad shoulders and fifteen different shades of grey and hazel in his eyes.

people have begun asking me what's wrong. they tell me i am wandering around with a silly smile on my face; that i am looking oddly feminine, that i am more relaxed, pleasant and cheerful than they have ever known me to be.

clearly, i am no longer myself, and its getting worse.

i have begun wearing earrings again, and other pretty things, but it was only today, when i decided to wear pink, that i realized how badly off i really am.

i have no idea what's wrong.

any suggestions?

the church URP barbecue

2006-09-11T08:44:00.000-07:00

there is nothing quite as...... unique... as the church barbecue. it is a time of fellowship, caring and indigestion shared by people who worship together, come together in faith, and use each other for covert, and yes, even nefarious food-related medical experiments.

you see, the church barbecue is the one place in all creation where you will find food, and dishes, that you cannot identify but you eat anyway.

under most circumtances, if you cannot immediately name the food on your plate, you do not eat it. but when the sun is shining, the children are playing and the Spirit of God is moving through the place, even strange salads made with quasi-illegal combinations of foodstuffs become somehow comforting.

and so it was with me last sunday at the church barbecue where, in the name of the Lord and His holy church, i decided it was my solemn duty to consume overdone hotdogs, underdone hamburgers, and salmonella-inducing macaroni salad.

then came the wobbly orange salad with even wobblier yellow bits in it (no-one ever manage to actually identify it), mystery meat sandwiches, crunchy brown things in sauce, coleslaw, bean salad, rice salad, meat salad, greek salad, potato salad, more potato sala and something called "tofantasy salad". curiously absent, though, was anything called "salad salad".

then there was something in a cheese sauce, and cheese in a something sauce, fourteen different kind of inexplicable rice dishes, a crusty brown object in a casserole dish, objects wrapped in pastry, fricassee of boot and what (to my unsophisticated palet) tasted like fried lego.

several of us then noticed that the dessert table was sagging dangeourously, and out of the goodness of our hearts and the love of our fellow christian, leapt to the rescue. in full-on emergency mode we ate fifteen different kinds of pie, thirty two kinds of cake, donuts (both with powder and without) , stuff with icing, stuff without icing, crunchy things, mushy things, pink-and-green spongy things, thing filled with caramel, cakes made with vegetables, and sixty-six times the daily recommended allowance of refinced sugar; but most important of all; we proved to the civilized world that when anglicans become patissiers, rice krispies truly ARE the most versatile food in the world...

i can't wait to find out which part of my gastro-intenstinal tract cramps first.

care to lay bets? '-)

the joys of internet dating: part the eighth

2006-09-09T06:08:00.000-07:00

"now you have found him never let him go"

so, you have spent days, weeks, months trawling through site after site, profile after profile, email after email.

you have made contact with well over a hundred people. some of them have been nice, some have been insane, some have been online casinos in disguise.

you have discovered that meeting people over the internet is rather like walking into a crowded room of random strangers; there are those that are funny and engaging, those that are are as dull as a bag of hammers, those that smell like cheese. you begin to make connections with a wide variety of individuals, and engage in the process of "getting to know them".

one or two begin to emerge from the pack.

so you exchange emails, photos, phone numbers. you discover that you have been fortunate enough to connect with several lovely people - all of whom merit further attention. you feel very lucky, very privileged; you've managed to avoid the homicidal stalkers, the gold diggers, the con men and the involuntarily incarcerated.

but eventually, one of these lovely people begins to stand out. you can't quite put your finger on it - all the people you have chosen to correspond with are intelligent, funny, Godly, charming and so on and so forth - but there is something very, very special about this one man, you soon come to realize.

maybe its because he is the smartest man you've ever met.

maybe its because he carries himself with a confidence and quiet good humour that you find utterly devastating.

maybe its because he is a man who gives you the sense that he will take you by the hand and be your friend, your teacher, your playmate, your loving critic, your confidant, your rock and your partner in ministry.

maybe its because he is an amazing writer, and his work just blows you away.

or maybe its because he has broad shoulders, dark curly hair; deep, incredibly intense hazel-and-grey eyes, a strong jawline and a wicked, impish smile... (annie... hello annie??? get a grip girlfriend! - ed)

oh, who knows??? could be anything, you know?

but its his email you wait for each morning, simply because you have discovered that exploring his mind is your greatest pleasure; its his phonecalls you schedule your evenings around because the sound of his voice does something .. wonderful... to you; its his photos that you begin to carry around with you because his eyes make you ...tingle; and its his name that begins to creep into your conversation as a new, long-absent half-smile settles itself permanently around your lips.

well, ok. this is good. this is very good, as a matter of fact.

you've found him: the one that made it all worthwhile, the one that made every last dating disaster worth the pulitzer prize winning blog entry (yeah, right - ed)

good for you!

NOW WHAT?????

well, ~~people crazy enough to read my drivel~~ my loyal fans, this is why i began this neopseudoencyclical missive (cut that out!!! - ed) in the first place, because having been down this road before, i actually think i might have something useful to say on the subject.

you need to trust me when i tell you that you can indeed meet that very special person online, just as easily as you can in church, at work or in central booking; you simply have to follow a few simple guidelines to get you over the unique dangers of falling in love with someone far away in time and space...

first, remember that with a long-distance relationships comes a heavy measure of fantasy - but that does not mean that you have to give in to it. be very leery of creating your ideal love in your head an hanging it on the very good-looking man that's just sent you his photo. do him the courtesy of getting to know him as he is, not as you want him to be (and of course, offer him the same kindness), and always be prepared to

a) back away when it becomes apparent that he might not be who you thought he was
b) allow yourself to take one step closer to him each time he shows you that he just might be

second, listen to him - really listen to what he says, and try not to read what you want to hear into it. if he's who you think he is, he will be more fascinating and intriguing than anything you could possibly make up yourself.

third, be VERY leery of immediate declarations of undying love and marriage plans. it is worth waiting to see if he lives in the real world, has got a good head on his shoulders, his feet on the ground and healthy dose of common sense.

fourth, don't be afraid to slowly share things with him, and see how he reacts to your revelations: is he supportive of you? is he interested in what you are interested in? is he kind and good humoured about your less-than-perfect moments? does he offer you his own surface vulnerabilities and less-than-ideal moments in return, and are they things you can accept, laugh with him about and support him in?

fifth, ask yourself ~ do you share a common aesthetic? do you see the world the same way? share the same values? are you both devoted christians? vegetarians? members of amnesty international? do you both agree about which parts of the body should be hairless and which should not? or that yoko ono music is just weird?

sixth, take a long hard look in the mirror: do you like who you are when you are with him? does his care, encouragement and presence in your life improve it, and you? do your friends say things like "He better be good to you. I think he is. You know how I know???? Come on, ask me. Something in you has changed. You seem more like the old Andrea I knew who was self-assured, confident, brilliant, and all that other good stuff. It's like you got ok with being yourself again. And it's not so much anything I can put my finger on, but you just seem more sure of yourself. And that's always a good thing. Ya know?"

seventh, ask yourself, do you fit into each other's lives? and always bear in mind that love - real love - is never about two people alone. it is about the blending of two worlds: is his a world in which you can live happily ever after? is his a world you can take, in its entirety, into your heart? do you think his child is really cool and can you respect the way he is raising him? will he be able to withstand more than an hour in the car with your mother? is there a crazy aunt on either side of your family that that no-one talks about who is 73 and still single, who has saved every newspaper ever printed since 1976 and lives with forty-two cats?

eighththth (?), be patient. take the time to talk to him, hear him out, ask him questions. go sloooooowly, give him the space and time to ask himself the same questions about you. be prepared if his answers differ, and he comes to the natural conclusion that you are as crazy as a loon. don't begin planning the wedding and naming the children until after at least the fourth email.

ninth, take the time to discover the most critical thing of all: do you make each other laugh? do you part feeling better than you did when you came together? do you look forward to spending time with him because you know your face will ache from smiling when you say goodnight?

and tenth, make sure he looks good in a bathtowel.

these are things you can discover from afar. you do not need to touch, kiss or bump nasties to find these things out about a person. you can explore, discover and fall in love with his soul from a world away if he lets you in....

and if all of these criteria are met, then for heavens sake, don't be afraid to take that next, tiny step over the edge of that cliff....

dis-am-big-u-a-tion

2006-09-06T15:32:00.000-07:00

disambiguation: S: (n) clarification that follows from the removal of ambiguity

a return to HELL

2006-09-05T18:27:00.002-07:00

i did it.

today, i returned to hell.

and why?

well, because they had canned meat on special, and what red blooded, all-canadian, slightly-australian-at-heart, sort-of-amazon woman doesn't love canned meat???

it was a fateful decision, and i should have know that my gluttony would have dire consequences.

but erring on side of caution as i entered the gates of hades, i asked for directions to the tinned meat aisle at the customer service desk and was immediately provided with a packet that contained a compass, a bottle of water, a packet of t-rations, a first aid kit, flares, GPS tracker and three surettes of morphine all marked "compliments of the real canadian superstore" and so armed, i set off following the explicit directions i'd been given:

"just head down this aisle and turn left when you see the blue bin full of two-for-one anti-fungal cream. keep going straight around the pharmacy and when you see the dairy section in the distance, turn left and keep going to the waiting room at the end. when you see a guy named murray, ask him to point it out to you..."

it was virtually inevitable that i would get lost the moment i passed the big screen tvs. see, like most canadians i am easily distracted by bright shiny things that go *ping!*, *bleep* and *whoot! whoot! whoot!*

dazed and a bit bewildered, and taking a right when i should have taken a left, i soon realized my mistake.

dammit! i thought. this is the scuba-diving aisle! there's no canned meat here!

quickly doubling back, i swerved to avoid the screaming toddler in the kayak and ducked quickly into a shadowy side alley. slowly looking around me, i realized with mounting distress just HOW wrong a turn it had been.....

backing slowly towards the bright lights of central highway, i searched the skies frantically to find an aisle..any aisle... that would cleanse my mind of the horror i'd just seen. there! to my left! a display!

it said... free bloo... free blood!!!

my God, i thought. they really DO carry everything here, and their specials are fantastic!!

but then i got closer:

realizing that if i actually did attempt to check my blood pressure at this point i'd likely blow the machine to bits (and i think this store may have a "you break it you bought it" policy and "what would i do with a broken automated sphignomanometer (now cut that out! - ed ) in my little apartment?") so i moved hastily on to........

the superhero aisle!!

superheroes were just what i needed to wipe the thought of adult incontinence and sky high systolic pressure (i said CUT THAT OUT! - ed) out of my mind's eye, i thought, so i walked slowly down the superhero aisle, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth until both my sense of purpose and equilibrium had returned. i needed canned meat, i reminded myself, and any further deviation from my purpose could cost me dearly.

i decided to press on.

swerving hard right into the produce aisle, i fully intended to lose myself in the verdant peace of leafy greens and root vegetables until i could regroup and get my bearings, maybe take a GPS reading or two. but my relief soon turned to deep unease as i looked around me and realized that i couldn't identify a significant number of the vegetables on display.

i have no clue what these are, but i bought two as they were on special:

i tucked them into my rucksack, deciding that if i ever made it back to civilization i would either try to eat them or wait for them to evolve into a dominant species. but as made my bewildered way to the far side of the produce aisle - lured by the bright shiny lights of the bath and bedroom department -frustration, hopelessness and a touch of fear began to colour my soul. i was lost, and i was scared, and if i was going to get out of this alive, i needed a plan.

crouching down behind the arugula, i uncorked the bottle of water and took a generous swig, then ripped into a packet of rations as i considered my next move. chewing mindlessly, like an automaton, i realized that logic wasn't going to help me. i needed another way out, so, with little to lose, i gave myself over to the power of the universe.

going purely on intuition, like a bee returning to the hive, like an ant finding its way back to the nest, like a man fishing the last piece of weiner out of the baked beans, i struck out into the wilderness, twisting and turning through aisle after aisle, seeking potted meat.

i veered past bathtowels and raffia baskets, iPods and basket balls, self-inflating life rafts, roach spray, plumbing supplies and three-per-package cotton underpants with reinforced gussets (gussets??); caromed past fourteen aisles of cleaning products, screeched past three ladies offering samples of maple cured ham (what disease does maple cure? - ed), peanut-butter-and-bacon crackers and genuine mongolian kefir, i and finally ground to a halt somewhere in the subtropical rainforest located between the food court and indoor carpets.

i paused only long enough to channel my psychosis into a helpess pachysandra

... before pushing off to catching my breath in the replica of MOMA that housed the supermarket's fine art collection.

then, in the pinata aisle, i realized i was coming unglued as i paused to toy with the idea of filling them with wasps.

what fun that would be! i thought, tears springing to my eyes...

steady, annie! i thought, stay frosty... if you die in here you'll NEVER eat canned meat again!

a sob escaped me as i sank to the floor, my butt resting against the harsh, unforgiving linoleum of the floor, the gentle crinkle of the directions i'd been given rustling gently in my pocket.

i froze, my heart hammering in my chest like... umm... a hammer.

the instructions!!! of course! i thought, bursting into gales of hysterical laughter. pulling the paper out i let my eyes caress the page, drinking in the words that were my salvation. no work of shakespeare could have sounded sweeter to human ears.

"just head down this aisle and turn left when you see the blue bin full of two-for-one anti-fungal cream. keep going straight around the pharmacy and when you see the dairy section in the distance, turn left and keep going to the waiting room at the end. when you see a guy named murray, ask him to point it out to you..."

raising my eyes ever so slighty upwards i saw it, like a vision of the madonna. suffused in a golden glow i beckoned to me, lifting my to my feet and guiding me gently forwards, my hand reaching out to carress its sleek, navy lines.... thank God, i thought, thank God:

the blue bin full of two-for-one anti-fungal cream!!!! and there, beyond it, THE PHARMACY!!!

i tore off at full tilt, knocking over display pyramids of creamed corn, a forty-five foot tower of cheerios and a hindu grandmother. i rocketed through the dairy aisle, cream cheese, yogurt and small-curd cottage cheese a creamy blur as i saw it: the waiting room!

saying a quick prayer for the single lost soul that seemed to have been sitting there since the store opened last week, waiting for something that she couldn't name, i grabbed the nearest pimply teenager in a real canadian superstore ball cap by the lapels, and i hauled him upwards until his feet dangled three inches off the floor and slammed him against the wall as i breathed fire and brimstone in his face.

murray! i hissed... where's MURRAY?????

terror stricken, his eyes bugging out of his head, he lifted his shaking finger and pointed to the seafood section.

"murray," he gasped, "customer service... white guy... black eyes... bald...."

sweat stinging my eyes, i dropped the little punk to the floor and tore of towards murray, confident that canned meat only moments away. every sense on the alert, i scanned the section for murray... white guy... black eyes... bald.... echoing through my head until i spied him.

murray.

customer service. pale guy... black eyes... bald...

MURRAY!!!!

... to be cont'd...

sigh WHY am i single??

2006-09-02T15:03:00.000-07:00

having immersed myself in myspace.com, i have been flooded with the ubiquitous ((Adj) "Anywhere at any time") and inevitable ((adj) incapable of being avoided or prevented; "the inevitable result") question of "hey, babe, how you doing. what you up to this weekend?"

well, in the interest of honesty, i try to be, well.......honest in my reply:

hmmm...well. lets see... my friend kevin made me dinner last night (meatloaf, potatos, rice and veggies - God bless the germans!) then we watched "poseidon" starring kurt russell.

so i learned about "rogue waves"; about how they were no longer a myth, and how the main areas of defense were prediction and avoidance, and an increased emphasis in structural integrity in the architecture phase of sea-going vessels.

but then i started to wonder about the practicality of emasuculating the rogue wave itself; which got me on to waveform theory, which got me on to integral, differential and lambda calculus; which got me on to the fourier series; which got me on to trigonometric functions; which got me onto differential equations and der Entscheidungsproblem; which got me on to symbolic logic which got me on to.........

yeah

ok

sorry................

how was YOUR weekend??? ;-)

how did we ever cope?

2006-08-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

(annie wipes silly grin off face long enough to post semi-serious rumination on blog)

in managing daycamp over the summer, we would have daily meetings with the two teenage girls that had been sent from "camp headquarters" in montreal to lead us in the curriculum. jessica and april are lovely girls - committed heart and soul to the Lord - and just plain fun to be around.

in other words, born camp counsellors.

however, they did serve to illustrate just how old and decrepit those of us participating in the daycamp were. see, they offered us a stunning piece of guidance that had most of us rolling our eyes, then rolling on the floor laughing.

we were informed, gently and yet still firmly, that during the quiz portion of the opening activity - or indeed during any interaction with a child that was answering a question - we were never to say to a child "no", "wrong", or "incorrect".

to proper response to a child that had gotten an answer "wrong", or "incorrect" was "very good! but that is actually the answer to another question."

that is the answer to another question?????

gee, i seem to recall that when i was a child, and i got an answer wrong, an adult would say "WRONG". sometimes they even said "INCORRECT". frequently, they even said "NO." and yet somehow i, and the others of my generation, survived and matured into adulthood relatively unscarred and untraumatized by having messed up the answer to a question.

that is the answer to another question??

sheesh. how did we ever survive the nightmare of childhood???

i have no idea who wrote this

2006-08-26T10:11:00.000-07:00

but i stumbled over it on the 'net and nearly fell over laughing:

Yogurt: semi-solid dairy product made from partially evaporated and fermented milk. Yogurt is one of only three foods that taste exactly the same as they sound. The other two are goulash and squid.

from the desk of the fashion nazi

2006-08-24T21:05:00.000-07:00

(what, you think that because i am busy falling in love that the world stops turning???)

i have recently had the opportunity to peruse one of the more astute and forward-thinking political publications in canada, and was extremely alarmed to discover that, like the vast majority of canadian women, i apparenly do not have enough of this autumn's hot new colours in my wardrobe.

now i realize that i am not exactly driving in the passing lane on fashion's highway (actually, skidding wildly out of control on the soft shoulder might be closer to the truth...), but this was an oversight i could hardly leave unaddressed! i mean, honestly! what kind of woman allows herself to go without having enough of this autumn's hot new colours??

now, the first thing i needed to do was to determine precisely what this autumns hot new colours are, and as best as i can tell they are brown, green and a reddish purple colour i will call "reddish purple".

consumed by alarm, i immediately began to ransack my wardrobe, convinced that SOMEWHERE i had to have clothes in this autumn's hot new fashion colours! but no!

shamefully, all of my clothes seem to be trapped in the tired old paradigm of last spring!

oh my, i realized with a stomach turning lurch: all of my clothes are black, blue, pink and ermmm... black.

that is not so much unacceptable as it is mutinous, i was informed by said forward-thinking political journal. so, humiliated and chastened, i hastened forthwith to the mall to ensure that this fall, i would not be left behind! no! i am an intelligent, mature, worldy woman. i love science fiction! i can quote monty python at length! i listen to EMO music, for heaven's sake!

and so, dear reader, you will be delighted (and no doubt relieved to know) that just today i purchased a blouse in mushroom (brown), a tank top in bark (brown) , a pair of jeans in woodland (brown) and a kicky pair of slingbacks in champagne (sort of brown).

i also bought a belt in forest (green) and a matching purse in deep ocean (green), a pair of capris in elfin (weird sort of phlegmy green) that actually ROCKS with the sweet pedal pushers i found in moss (also green)

i was also fortunate enough to score a lipstick in kiss me plumshine (reddish purple), nail polish in berrie nice (reddish purple), and a bandana in love bite #9 (don't ask)

i don't know about you, but i feel MUCH better now..............

the joys of internet dating: part the seventh

2006-08-24T10:16:00.000-07:00

you know you are ready to fall in love again when you can look at pictures of your ex, think back on all the things you shared - the good, the bad and the ugly... and you know you are truly ready when you can truly look inside your heart and ask yourself that fundamental question:

what the HELL was i thinking??????

you know you are ready to fall in love again when you realize that dumping you was actually the best thing your ex ever did for you, because in removing himself from the picture, he set you free to find something better.....

you know you are ready to fall in love again when it occurs to you to write a thank-you note to every man that has ever passed on you, because in so doing they were holding the door onto a better world open for you...

you know you are ready to fall in love again when you read back over your protestations of undying love for someone you will likely never see again, and fall off your chair laughing at your own foolishness.... (careful, i hurt myself doing that... -ed.)

somehow, you just know............

and so it goes...

2006-08-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

high atop the highest maple in the park, a leaf reaches the late summer of her life.

throughout her existence, she has clung to the uppermost branches of her tree; safe, protected, secure. but deep inside her she knows this is not living; and so, brushed by the gentlest hush of the breeze against her skin, the leaf lets go, and casts herself out on the fickle winds of fate. the ochers, crimsons and plums that were her future are now her past, and she consigns herself to the wind, knowing no other way to be....

tossed and turned in the breeze, she bumps up against rocks, stones, trees.... the immovable fates that litter the world, and with each twist and tango she is left bruised, banged and bedraggled... yet onwards through life she blows.

the wind that bears her is as sweet and warm as honey, and it carries her far, far from home... and terrifying though the journey is, she is mere flotsam borne on the currents of time, and content in her place.

the wind lurches and humps along, at once a bear and a catterpillar, and far below her curls the lazy river, its feet propped up on the muddy banks of autumn. downwards she drifts; the loamy scent of the flood plain filling her until that seminal, delicate, dizzying moment when her skin slicks against the surface of the stream, and like the woman of whom she dreams, she floats down the turgid river and falls into love.......

oh Lord, i never should have started them on the catnip...

2006-08-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

... this is all my fault....

we're just wild about harry

2006-08-21T10:45:00.000-07:00

WELCOME TO THE WORLD SAHARA DAWN!

JON is a daddy!!

(jon is also pretty useless with a camera, so harry has her work cut out for her '-))

in jon's own words:

"...Her name is Sahara Dawn and she is just too beautiful for words...Born at 8:14am this morning AEST...I was there for her delivery...man that was so cool...although I'm not sure what all the fuss is about...we got to the hospital at 7:45am and half an hour later we have a child...awesome...no pain or anything...although Lisa did bang on a bit, but myself I was just fine...I can not put into words how chuff I am...wait...I'm in Tom Cruise mode right now...ah...that's better...So I'm just home to collect somethings for Harry and then I'm out the door again...Harry is what I'm calling her...which is why I chose Sahara in the first place...Will email more news as it comes in...Miss You...Love You...Jonathan..."

from the here and now, a letter to the future...

2006-08-19T20:41:00.000-07:00

here comes a time in which each of our lives are measured by the breaths we take between what was and what will be.

we call this pause in the hum and throb of life "a time of transition", and though i chafe and rail against the tenterhooks upon which i am stretched during this time of transition, i cannot help but hear my own voice ringing in my ears:

"i wish i had more time to write. i wish i had more time to read. i wish i had more time to...."

well, now i have the time.

i look in the mirror and i see a work in progress. while it is true we are each of us "a work in progress", how many of us collaborate with God, choosing to sit down and consciously, deliberately put time and effort into the work of art that each and every one of us is?

how many of us deliberately assume the role of sculptor, composer, author, architect, janitor, and interior decorator of our hearts, bodies and souls?

well, today i choose to make time my friend. i will not be impatient at the months which separate us; instead i will put them to use, and craft the only gift i will ever have to offer you: me.

i will take this time, this pause between heartbeats, to become the person you crave, the person you deserve, the person you have always dreamed of loving because just as you are my past, you are my future as well, and you deserve only the best that i can possibly offer you.

in this time between time i dedicate myself to prayer, worship and the study of scripture that i might become the Godly, spiritual woman you need to uplift you, grow with you and walk beside you as we move ever more deeply into a life in Christ.

in the aeon between here and there, i commit myself to reading, learning, and the pursuits of all things esoteric: the appreciation of music, art, science and the arcana of the cosmos, so that you might never become bored with our conversations; and so that i might always learn from you, and you from me as we discover the delights of life and the universe together.

in this space between places i devote myself to reflecting on the past and on the mistakes i have made, so that i might never make them again. i commit myself to letting go of the anger and pain, of working through my grief so that i might emerge a kinder, more compassionate and loving person than i ever was, because this is what you deserve.

in this eternity between past and future i pledge myself to the lifetime's study and the perfection of the art of love and friendship, mutual support, and the care and nurture of the human soul, that i might cherish and treasure your heart, keep you secure and protected, and make you feel as though there is no safer place in the world than in my arms.

in these moments between the fluttering blinks of an eye, i commend my body to strength, limberness and endurance, that i might always be strong and beautiful for you; and that i might stay the course, never flagging or tiring as we build the future together, forever remaining someone you are proud to be seen with.

but above all i shed my devotion to myself and live for you - your happiness, your joy, your pleasure and your passion; for i know that if you do the same for me, neither of us will ever want for a moment's joy..

the future will come ~ bidden or not ~ it will come. i need to be ready for you.

the gates of hell are NOT guarded by cereberus

2006-08-17T20:30:00.000-07:00

throughout time, legend has taught us that somewhere on this mortal coil exists the portal to hell: those eldritch doorways through which orpheus set out on his quest for eurydice; those which demeter traversed to negotiate with hades for the release of her daughter persephone; and through which our own Lord Jesus Christ passed to do some serious harrowing.

for millennia the location of the opening to abbadon has been a mystery, an occult and damnable secret whispered into the darkness to terrify children and chill the human soul. and though time flows through the ages like the river mnemosyne, no-one has ever found the entrance to the underworld - and lived to tell the tale - though many have sought it, and many have died hideous deaths in the quest for the path to the netherworld... fading from time and memory as a snowflake fades from a frozen window pane bathed in the glow of the spring time sun.

but now, now its location is about to be revealed....because i've found it. and its around the corner from my house.

the gates to hell opened up on tuesday in the Real Canadian Superstore that has been under construction for the last six months not four blocks from my house. and my mother, with that curious perversity that overcomes the elderly as they contemplate their options for a fun afternoon out, decided that she really REALLY wanted to attend the "grand opening".

that satan: what a cunning old bastard. he was giving out balloons, free coffee and chocolate chip cookies, coupons for shoe repair and discounts on newspaper subscriptions as hell opened its doors in my neighbourhood.

way to go, captain howdy, i thought. the balloons are a nice touch, and i like the new uniforms your minions are wearing. sure beats wings and fangs i mused, but even as i stepped through the doors from the parking lot and into hell's floral department (downstairs next to hell's travel agency), a could detect a whiff of sulfur and brimstone hanging in the air. mum said it was from the fresh pavement in the car park, but i knew better.

the whole place reeked of evil...

cleverly disguised as the universe's biggest and most complete shopping center EVER, hell is actually guarded by something called a "movator" - an escalator-type device who's entrance and exit are manned by the creepiest, perkiest zombies ever to be unleashed on this earth, dressed in navy and white hostess outfits that complemented the evil red glow of their eyes and the malodourous smoke seeping from their ears. the living, those of us stupid enough to have sold our souls for the privilege of never again having to shop in two different stores for fresh fruit and power tools, were herded upwards towards hell's produce section on the infernal movator, under the watchful eyes of the dukes and barons of the underworld as (and i love this bit because its absolutely true) selections from the rolling stones "beggar's banquet" blared over the loudspeakers.

i seem to recall from my training in medieval literature that satan's torture's for the eternally dead were vicious, malignant and eternal. the legendary churchman charles spurgeon once wrote: when thou diest thy soul will be tormented alone; . . . but at the day of judgement thy body will join thy soul and thou wilt have twin hells; thy soul sweating drops of blood, and thy body suffused with agony. In fierce fire, . . . thy body will be, asbestos-like, forever unconsumed, all thy veins roads for the feet of pain to travel on; every nerve a string on which the devil shall for ever play his diabolical tune of hell's unutterable lament.

jonathan edwards speaks of men unable to find even a moment of relief in hell (in his sermon on The Future Punishment of the Wicked): "nor will they ever be able to find anything to relieve them in hell. they will never find any resting place there; any secret corner, which will be cooler than the rest, where they may have a little respite, a small abatement of the extremity of their torment. they never will be able to find any cooling stream or fountain, in any part of that world of torment; no, nor so much as a drop of water to cool their tongues. they will find no company to give them any comfort, or do them the least good. they will find no place, where they can remain, and rest, and take breath for one minute: for they will be tormented with fire and brimstone; and they will have no rest day nor night forever and ever."

well, clearly, old scratch is learning. in the modern, polished, waxed and windexed 21st century version of hell, his tortures are far more sublime, insidious and dare is say it? nefarious....

no lake of fire here..... only aisle after aisle of product to tempt and torture humanity as we have not been tempted and tortured since tantalus. forty-three brands of toilet paper, ninety-two kinds of kitchen cleaner, one-hundred-and-thirty-five flavours of ice cream, eight thousand, nine hundred and fifty six kinds of potato chips, frozen pizza and shampoo; unidentifiable vegetables that were clearly grown on mars, housewares, home furnishings, electronics, flowers, a snack aisle, food court, pizza parlour, photography studio, pharmacy, bakery, dry cleaner, optometrist, medical clinic, fitness center, banking facilities and something called a "community room". as far as i could determine, you can get EVERYTHING there but a high colonic, and i only know that because i asked at the pharmacy.

now, into this satanic temple of consumerism filed the living, those that had made a faustian bargain with their satanic overlords, trading their souls for a chance to buy buy two get three free kiwi fruit while it was fresh and in season. no pitchforks and scythes here. no, each of the damned was issued an armoured shopping cart with the optional "random wheel lock" feature and standard intermittent steering, a free double mochaccino and a map of the store. there were no traffic lights, no lane assignments, no-one directing traffic: just fourteen million italian seniors, three hundred and twenty thousand "young families", eighty nine thousand surly teenagers with enough facial piercings to keep the metal detectors screaming at top volume for hours at a time; fourteen hundred screaming babies, fifty-two battery-powered golf cart "shuttles" playing bumper cars in the meat section, ninety six motorized mobility devices, six atvs, three or four of toronto' s finest homeless alcoholics imported just for the occassion, and the undead walking amongst us all handing out flyers and spot-award discount coupons.

satan is cunning indeed.

the only respite a poor soul can claim is to stand for forty five minutes in the checkout line to pay for the priviledge of tasting hell first hand, before being permitted to flee down the movator and into the relative safety of the parking lot to spend the next two hours of their life swimming upstream in the parking lot like salmon spawning, desperate to get out.

no-one that has not experienced this torment can possibly understand the peace and relaxation that comes from returning home, pulling out the dremel took and drilling one's own teeth.....

myspace.com

2006-08-15T04:07:00.000-07:00

And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff, as dreams are made of,
And our little life is rounded,
With a sleep. - william shakespeare, the tempest

i did it.

after months of avoiding a "fad", i broke and created a myspace.com account:

Check me out!

"Check me out!"

such deceptively simple words....

its not a fancy link, i know, but there you have it. see, i realized if i was going to assume the arrogant conceit of writing "social commentary", i should perhaps immerse myself in a corner of the net being infested by said "society".

its utterly fascinating, intriguing and addictive - somewhere between the glory and exaltation of the species and a slow-motion train wreck - and everyone that shares a common interest in "humanity" in the abstract should be required to take a look, because there it is in all its splendour on myspace.com. it is what that alien from the movie "contact" (youknowtheonewithjodiefosterandmatthewmcconnaugheywherehe was allreligiousandhot?yeahthatone -ed) meant when he describe the human race as being capable of "the most beautiful dreams and the most terrifying nightmares". it is what irving stone might have been referring to as "the agony and the ecstasy" had he not actually been writing about michelangelo.

but i digress....

it is us in all our glory and pathos. it is the most extraordinary mirror the human mind has ever conceived of. it is the abyss nietzsche warned us about staring into....

so naturally the first thing i did to become acquainted with the site is to follow links that led to myspace profiles that i had received from friends. these are, of course, your childrens' profiles gentlemen, and they provided me with an amazing introduction into the world of "online social networking" (note to a very dear friend in oz (and parents in general take heed): you might wish to have a wee conversation with your eldest. from a cursory skimming of his profile i have learned more about his nipples and their relationship to elderly ladies, his drinking habits, the size of his "weener", and the amount of 'personality' to be found in his left testicle than i think i wanted to without actually having met the man - ed)

my little corner is divided up into neat compartments: i can post my pictures, host online videos, or booby trap my profile by programming it to suddenly start blaring rammstein at top volume to the unsuspecting schlubs that click on it. i am thinking that there may be a whole new class of homicide that might best be described as "coronary infarction induced by scaring the bejzeesus outta anyone that clicks on my profile" taking shape on the 'net.

i also have a section called "friends". this is an AMAZING section! complete strangers ask to be my friend! i haven't had this many strangers ask to be my friends since i stopped wearing catholic school girl outfits! currently, i have 12 friends. they include a 29 year old "vampyre" from sydney, a kurt cobain obsessed teenage girl from "f*cker, NSW" (which is a hot holiday destination, apparently) and a rock band out of tasmania. i cannot wait to move to oz and throw a housewarming party so i can invite all my new "friends".

they will be talking about it for years to come.......

and from what i can see, the way in which you cement your 'friendship' is to exchange half nude photos of yourself with your 'friends'. as a devout church person, and a modest woman to boot, i have elected to share half-naked photos of my bishop instead, in the name of ecclesiastic piety, of course.

you can also join "groups". the variety and scope of these groups is staggering - and all of them will let you in without so much as a secret handshake or a decoder ring. currently, in addition to several science fiction and writer's groups, i am a member of hip-hop nation, food not bombs, the accordion appreciation society, the online association of professional firefighters, and the gay and lesbian circus performers mutual benefit society and the young investors club.

but the real joy of myspace?

with 101,580,049 people in my "extended network", the lunatics find ME! it is a lazy writers dream come true. my muse, who i believe has been smoking crack, lives and bestirs me on this site. thus far, i have had a marriage proposal from a rap star, been taken to task for being a desperate, middle aged internet-dating junkie by a 22 year old in sydney (and i can't imagine where'd he'd get that idea from - ed); had a 56 year old grandfather-of-three invite me to talk dirty with him and his chevrolet fancier's club and been offered a chance to go on tour with said rock band from hobart.

i may never leave myspace again............ because you absolutely cannot make this stuff up.

i'd like to thank each and every one of you

2006-08-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

the joys of internet dating: part the sixth : "i am realizing i have a "type" (redux)

2006-08-11T10:11:00.000-07:00

the bad boy biker

the rock star

the dawg

the croc

viggo mortensen

the biker, the rockstar, the bounty hunter, the... erm.... professional aussie (what does crocodile dundee actually do??).

viggo mortensen.

what to these men all have in common, besides being amazingly sexy? (go on, admit it: dawg is just hot. you'll feel better if you do)

1) they are all hovering about the "40-50" mark.
2) they all have either a charming boyish quirk, a cool, animal-themed nickname, or are viggo mortensen.
3) all wear leather. some even kill and tan it themselves. others just look like they do.
4) all with youthful, yet masculine good looks.
5) all unspeakably cool.........

"wanted: mature, unspeakably cool man who enjoys leather. must have boyish quirk or cool, animal-themed nickname (carnivores only, please). australian accent a plus, but for bounty hunter, am willing to negotiate. sun-bleached hair and brilliant baby-blues get me every time. if you have none of the above traits, please be viggo mortensen"

and they wonder what is wrong with the women of today??

2006-08-08T13:18:00.000-07:00

all i wanted was shampoo.

for a man, this is a simple, straightforward endeavour that requires nothing more of him than he walk into his local drugstore and pick up a bottle of something called "shampoo".

for a woman, its just not that simple.

you see, as a woman "nearing middle age" (as a charming internet suitor put it), i find that my natural "deep chestnut #14" locks are at once a bit dry, a bit oily, slighty curly but mostly straight, a bit frizzy, dry at the ends, oily at the roots, and not as shiny and luxuriant as they were when i was 21.

so clearly, mere "shampoo" will not suffice.

well, i watch tv - i know there are products out there that can make me look like penelope cruz, so i stopped into the drugstore today to find the right shampoo for me.

the first bottle i spied seemed perfect! it promised to maintain my hair's healthy balance with a deep clean that left my hair with a moisturized, healthy feel and a lustrous shine from root to tip.

excellent! i thought. that's just what i need.

but right next to it was a bottle that would also give me the smooth, lustrous look i wanted. it's provitamin enriched conditioners would align every strand of hair and leave me with a healthy vibrant shine. it offered to calm unruly frizz for me, and leave my style manageable, sleek and beautiful.

ok, i thought, sleek and beautiful is good. i want sleek and beautiful...

but then i spotted another bottle. well, this one had a collection of uplifters and body builders that would work together to give me the gravity-defying height and handfuls of hair i crave. it had built-in lightweight structurizing conditioners to cleanse each strand to add fullness and volume!!

yes! ok. i said to myself. i want properly aligned handfuls of gravity defying hair! i mean, who doesn't??

but wait! this bottle over here offered me the easy way to create straight hair without resorting to extreme measures! it had been scientifically proven to make my hair up to three times straighter after only three washes so it looks defined and manageable!

dear Lord, i prayed, THANK YOU for giving me a way to make my hair look defined and manageable! i could feel the spirit moving in me and my knees began to tremble ever so slightly.

CALM DOWN, said a booming voice from the sky. REMEMBER, YOUR HAIR IS A LITTLE BIT CURLY AND GETS FRIZZY WHEN ITS HUMID OUT.

chastened, and more than a bit confused as to why the Lord might now be giving me advice on hair care products when He really should be paying more attention to the crisis in the middle east, i put down the bottles i was holding and instead reached for the shampoo that would give me up to 80% more defined curls.

80% more defined curls!!! wow....who knew such a thing was even possible? i thought tremously.

for a blissful moment i closed my eyes and pictured myself with the springy ringlets, flowing waves and big, bouncy curls the bottle promised me. i could hear violins in the background and the smell of vanilla hung in the air.

but then cruel reality set in and i remembered that my hair was also colour treated. there would be no high-definition curls that look natural, feel conditioned and responded to styling for me, sadly. so, with a heavy heart, i turned to the "colour therapy" section to find something that would help me preserve the vibrant, healthy look of the shade that i had so carefully selected.

now, apparently a foundation of vibrant, healthy colour reflects a fearless spirit, so i decided to go with a fearless shampoo that woud enhance my hair's beautiful colour even as it attended to the damage caused by daily styling.

then i checked myself.

not good enough i thought. i want something to protect, enhance and prolong my natural, highlighted or coloured hair dammit!

and, like an answer to a prayer, there it was: a shampoo with a non-depositing formula that also contained natural extracts to aid in colour retention that would help shield my hair against damaging elements, mineral deposits, and residues while adding shine and multi-dimensional tones and reducing discolouration!!!

distantly, i could hear angels singing....

my vision blurred as tears of joy flooded my eyes, but i reached out and accidentally grabbed the wrong bottle. brushing away the moisture from my cheeks, i discovered i was holding a bottle of daily moisture renewal, which guaranteed to rejuvenate my hair and protect it from future damage by sealing the shaft of the hair with TEN TIMES the protection for split ends!!!

dear Lord...i'd forgotten about split ends! i realized, feeling the first icy tendrils of fear beginning to work their way into my bones.

but what about my oily scalp? i thought, breaking into a cold sweat. i could feel panic beginning to take control of me... what about that???

teering on the edge of hysteria, i flung down the bottle of daily moisture renewal and seized on the miracle clarifying product that was my best defense against oily, limp and dull hair! this product had BC89 technology that would remove everyday buildup and styling residues that would leave my hair feeling clean, refreshed and renewed. it had surfactants!!!!!

shaking, dizzy and feeling as though the walls were closing in on me, i tried to stay focused, beating back the terror that threatened to consume my very being.

stay frosty, annie, i whispered to myself, don't lose it on me now, girl...hang in there baby girl....

licking my parched lips and squeezing my eyes shut, i tried to concentrate.

did i want my hair gently cleansed or moisturized? did i want straight, sleek hair or hydrated curls? volume or clarity??? did i protect my colour, or defend against the elements??? how could i best go about getting my hair aligned?? what about the BC89 techolgy and the surfactants???? and dear God what about my oily scalp?????

on the bright side, the nice men in the white coats here say i should be ready to go home in a few days....

reality cheque, please!

2006-08-07T10:42:00.000-07:00

(again, taken from actual online dating profiles...)

"You take my hand I will take yours. Your reach out your arms you will find mine to hold you. You wish to make love we will make love. You need your space you will have your space. Really it’s all up to you."

"I am a very attentive lover, I do like to spoil, but only when it isn't expected of me to do so. I love to please my woman. I like to give little reminders to her that I think of her as the day goes on...flowers, cards, gifts...I've also been told I give the best massages... "

"I NEED A GRL WHO WOULD LIKE TO BE TREATED LIKE AN ANGEL."

and yet these men are all divorced.

funny that.

an old friend once complained bitterly to me that his ex-wife never appreciated "the little things" he did for her - the flowers he'd send her, the small gifts he'd buy her, the romantic dinners he'd treat her to. this is something i have heard again and again from divorced men: the ongoing lament that "she didn't appreciate all the little things that i did for her."

well, there's a reason for that.

the only reason a woman doesn't appreciate the little things, is because the big things aren't there.

when a woman is loved, cherished, respected, cared for, supported and treasured, she has no need for "the little things". she has no need for tokens of affection.

she has real affection.

one of the sad realities is that when a woman gets flowers at the office, her friends do not gather around to coo and gush over how lucky she is to have a man that treats her like a goddess. they rally around her to see if she is ok, to ask her what he's done this time.

when a man proves his love of a woman daily to her by treating her with love and respect, by caring about what she is thinking and how she is feeling, by being there for her and by letting her be there for him, then flowers, gifts and romantic weekends for two become gravy.

but when those trinkets are all she gets from him, they are simply a crushing reminder of all the things he is not giving her....

so boys - save your money and just be nice to me. show me you care.

love's cheaper than you think ;-)

forgetness

2006-08-07T09:52:00.000-07:00

even now, months after we split, my ex continues to play childish power games with me. his current favourite is an email version of "ding dong ditch"..... and i am forced to examine the question:

can you truly forgive someone you still love?

do you need to forget the terrible things he did to you in order to forgive him?

and if you forget the terrible things he did to you, does that not pave the way for falling in love with him all over again?

and if you fall in love with him all over again, will you not have your heart ripped once more from your chest because you have forgotten all the terrible things he did to you, and is still capable of?

BUT, if you deliberately remember all the terrible things he did to you, does that not keep alive the anger and resentment that is the roadblock to forgiveness?

where is the balance? how does one extend forgiveness, but not forgetness?

if the word "JESUS" gives you hives

2006-08-07T08:39:00.000-07:00

if the very thought of God drives to curl up like a chinch bug and roll under your bed and hide;

if the very notion of church puts you off your feed for days and makes you break out in oozing, festering sores...

don't click on this link:

corduroy

2006-08-05T20:37:00.000-07:00

there comes a time in every woman's life when she can no longer legitimately wear corduroy.

i knew my time had come when i went for a walk in corduroy jeans and my thighs rubbed together so badly my panties caught fire.

the re-tooling of the blog

2006-08-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

i am utterly floored to discover through comments posted here, emails and word of mouth, how many strangers are reading the contents of my teeny little twisted brain.

while i have always tried to keep my writing edgy and intimate, personal yet entertaining, cruel and unusual, i am realizing that with this many strangers peeking in, much of the VERY personal stuff doesn't make much sense to most people.

so, to that end, i am re-shaping this blog to keep it more focused, tighter, and hopefully even crueler and more unusual :)

thank you all for your amazing words of support. you make cleaning out the inside of my head seem less... disturbing.

a