help when you can

More often than not, there is one homeless man (out of a half dozen of regulars) sitting in front of the Rabba 24-hour food market near our apartment building. Every few weeks or so, especially when I am going into the store to pick up a serious load of groceries, I will buy a lunch -- a sandwich, some fruit, a drink -- and give it to whatever man is sitting out front.

I just got back from a quick dash to Rabba to pick up some last-minute tidbits for our New Years's Eve nosh, and it was freezing cold outside: the fierce wind was whipping off the lake, tearing at clothes and exposed skin. I couldn't believe that anyone would even be able to sit in front of the Rabba on such a night, but there he was: a small, heavily-bearded man in a parka with a kind smile. I left this evening's Rabba sidewalk resident with a hot chocolate and a sandwich, for which he was very grateful. But appreciation is never what I am seeking. I just cannot accept that there are people on the streets and children starving. I want to do what I can, however small.

What I wish for all of you in the world in 2002 is the love of a friend, understanding and acceptance, a warm place to sleep, food to sustain you, peace in your mind, and peace in your heart. And if you have all of these things, share what you can with others. Happy New Year.

31 December 2001, 18:12

christmas clean-up

It's been a Christmas Clean-up kind of day. This morning I revamped [places for writers] with new links, highlighted bits, and a little more editorial. Since 1997 this site has been evolving, and I will continue to keep this sucker as up-to-date as possible. Something I would really like to get my hands on: poet or writer blogs. So, if you fancy yourself a writer, please send me your URL and a little info about yourself, and I'll be happy to add you to my list of resources.

Trevor and I also just spent a few hours cleaning up the apartment: tidying away Christmas clutter and trying to get the place into decent shape for the New Year. I enjoy a tremendous feeling of calm after a good purging and hoovering. Now I'm all set to face 2002.

31 December 2001, 15:12

thumbs up for tom

Vanilla Sky. Wow.

30 December 2001, 17:12

a bit of history

Just in from the Christmas celebration with Trevor's family in Erin (when will the food stop?!). It was a lovely, mostly quiet affair filled with conversation and the usual Christmas festivities. What I liked best was settling down after dinner and listening to Trevor's adopted/sponsored Vietnamese sister Nu and her husband, Qang, talk about Vietnam and how they came to arrive in Canada in 1980, escaping the aftermath of the Vietnam war. Qang reflected on Saigon, where he and Nu lived before coming to Canada, gave us a short geography lesson, and provided insight into Vietnamese culture. It left me feeling both enlightened, and a little embarrassed; after all, I really know nothing about the Vietnam war or what effect it had on the country and the people.

When I was eleven I remember hearing the term "boat people" but I didn't understand why large groups of people were in these boats, or what they were searching for -- or escaping. I now marvel at the bravery of young adults like Nu and Qang who left their humid and lush -- but economically unstable and dangerous -- homeland not knowing what to expect, and then landing into snowy, frozen Southern Ontario in the middle of February. I can't imagine how that felt. And what did Nu think when she was carted off to the Ponderosa Steakhouse the next day for Trevor's birthday party?

Anyway, I feel very fortunate to have the chance to know them both -- as well as their four great kids. Even though we only see to see each other at Christmas and important family celebrations, I always seem to learn something new about them -- and about this great family I married myself into.

29 December 2001, 23:12

buffalo blast

It's hard to believe, but just across the lake from us, Buffalo is getting blasted by snow. Tons of snow. Lose-your-car-in-a-snowdrift snow. Walking along our snowless shore today, the sky over the island was filled with tiny snow tornadoes touching down in the horizon. But they never ventured onto the mainland; instead they remained in the middle of the lake, spinning across the tops of cold waves against an cold orange backdrop. Oblivious to someone who really wanted them to blow ashore.

28 December 2001, 22:12

pricey specs

Today I paid $600 (discounted price) at the First Canadian Place for a new pair of glasses. Am I insane?

27 December 2001, 21:12

missed nikki

We were going to see our amazing and talented friend Nikki Loney perform at the Art Bar tonight, but alas, Trevor seems to coming down with a cold. And we're both so worn out after the five days of holiday festivities. It's a shame because we were both looking forward to it; Nikki plays with Justin Abedin, and their performance is superb -- even gets a non-jazzy-jane like me grooving. At least we can look forward to the next show on January 19 at C'est What.

27 December 2001, 21:12

blogger-less

Wow, when Blogger is down I start to feel all twitchy. Breathing gets shallow. Hands shake.

27 December 2001, 12:12

christmas morning

Started the day out early taking a walk with Benny through the quiet Christmas morning streets. Just a bit of snow was falling, and the air was filled with the smell of cold and wood burning. Walking past the Christmas-lighted windows I imagined sleepy parents and wired children settling around trees, wrapping paper flying.

We had a wonderful morning opening presents, drinking tea, and laughing. So many perfect gifts. Although we've slowed down a bit over the years, we still end up opening everything in a flurry of ribbons and tissue paper and an overexcited puppy. Then a big breakfast and a game of euchre. This afternoon we'll be heading to Erin to visit Trevor's Dad then back to Fergus for more food.

I hope for a walk after dinner tonight. I can't get enough of the silence. Of the peacefulness that settles itself around the town. Of the bells that ring out songs from the Presbyterian church into the cold and quiet.

25 December 2001, 12:12

A mistake... or not

A mistake: Spiced rum, Kahlua, and a bit of diet Coke. Mmmm.

24 December 2001, 17:12

the stars and the silence

Cold. A light coating of snow. Looks like the rain and wind and hazy greyness are done with us for the next little while. Early this morning, when Trevor and I were walking home from our friend's studio, we had to just stop and enjoy the stillness. It was beautifully quiet. And if we hadn't drank cider, and the temperature was just a little warmer, I think that we would have spent hours walking around the deserted streets of town, listening to the wind reaching through the trees at leftover leaves, and the marvelling at the stars and the silence.

24 December 2001, 10:12

night streets

The night streets in Fergus are filled with so many Christmas lights. Every other house is bedecked in strings and strings of twinkling and glowing bulbs. Some houses glow gently with understated monochrome elegance, while some emulate a glaring multicoloured Las Vegas lightshow. Some displays play jingling Christmas music. Other use mechanical figures that feed reindeer, chop wood, or make toys. And some shows even come complete with a Santa Claus collecting Christmas list whispers and food bank donations, while sending wishes of happy holidays out into the crisp night.

23 December 2001, 14:12

looking forward to being home

Drinking a steaming mug of tea and planning out my morning as we prepare to leave this afternoon for a five-day stay in Fergus with my parents. I love being at home for the holidays -- as cliché as that sounds. Christmas can always make me feel magical, can instantly recall the child in me (who usually isn't too far away, anyway!). Right now I need a little chunk of calm, a respite from the city. There is a lot for my family to celebrate this Christmas -- and I can't wait to begin: eating Mom's mountains of snacks, drinking Cherry Whiskey, and playing euchre at the kitchen table.

22 December 2001, 09:12

today

Frustration ruining my last-day-before-the-holidays spirit. A spinach salad at 2:30 to celebrate the Solstice. Two four-firetruck false alarms at our building. And a few drinks at Ted's Collision to wish our friends a happy birthday.

21 December 2001, 20:12

a bit of brit-love in a box

We received a wonderful package the other day from Trevor's sister Wendy. And inside was a lovely assortment of products from England -- things that Brits can pick up a Sainsbury's any day. However, those of us in the Commonwealth nation across the Atlantic must rely upon mail-order, expensive shops, British festivals (or thoughtful relatives!) to get our hands on fine British delicacies such as Heinz curried beans, stilton and white port soup, chip shop curry, and Cadbury's Timeouts and Wispas. Thanks, Wendy for sending Christmas in a box.

20 December 2001, 08:12

fifteen years

Happy anniversary, love. Fifteen years ago today, you changed the course of my life.

19 December 2001, 20:12

ass it up

Last week at work I received an email requesting changes to an HTML file -- specifically to take new images and "ass it up" beside the text. Now whenever my boss sends me change requests, I tell her: "yeah, I'll be happy to ass that up for you". Or, sometimes, for a more Emeril-esque approach: "let me ass it up a notch". What mindless office-centric amusement a few misplaced keystrokes can create.

19 December 2001, 08:12

feurio sucks -- especiallyin the dark

It's really dark here at work. I'm staying late to work on our annual secret Christmas project. Note to self: do not attempt to use Feurio for creating CD sleeves ever again! For anyone who is interested, folded front CD sleeves are 1417x2953 (make it square if you don't want an inner cover) and the back sleeves are 1772x1394. I wish that it could always be like this at work: quiet, shadowy, calm. I can't imagine how much work I would get done. Not to mention stress-free, and perhaps even a little bit contented. Going home now.

18 December 2001, 21:12

marking the way

Thanks to a night and morning of drizzle, very little of the snow is left. On my walk to work this morning, all that remained were tiny white snow-boulders lining the sidewalk -- a line of miniature icebergs floating equidistant on a concrete sea.

17 December 2001, 13:12

chrimbo moment

Christmas shopping wasn't the circus we had expected. We managed to get a lot of shopping done, with no flaring tempers or panic attacks. And now I have a wicked case of the Christmas spirit. After our commercial splurge-fest we went to the Duke of Richmond for a few pints of cider, then wandered though Nathan Phillips Square (Toronto's City Hall). The trees were decorated with thousands of lights, and the outdoor skating rink was packed with people, with more waiting in the line-up for skate rentals. And the Christmas spirit kept swelling. Walking down Bay Street toward home, warmed by cider and finally feeling the chill of winter creep beneath my coat, something lifted from my heart and escaped in the neboulous breath-clouds of laughter.

15 December 2001, 20:12

(it was trevor)

For the record, it wasn't me who pushed in all of the buttons in the elevator before we left, holding back snickers like high school kids.

15 December 2001, 20:12

memories of the eaton centre

It's a gorgeous blue-sky afternoon. Yesterday's snow survived the night, and although the sun is slowly stealing it from the the lawn of the Harbourfront Fire Station across the street, the day just feels like Christmas. So, instead of abandoning Christmas shopping for a long walk along the lake or through the Exhibition grounds, we are suiting ourselves up to join the frenzied credit-card-wielding hoardes at the Eaton Centre.

When Trevor and I were in high school/our early 20s and we sometimes drove to the Eaton Centre -- right downtown -- to do our shopping on this same weekend, braving the crowds to find gifts that only the big city could offer. Strange that now, when we live within walking distance of that very same shopping mecca, we still leave our shopping to one of the last weekends before Christmas.

15 December 2001, 13:12

snow

It's actually snowing today.

14 December 2001, 15:12

blocked

Like most writers, I am at the mercy of inspiration. Sometimes I write prolifically, pumping out poems on a daily basis, and sometimes I can go for months without committing one word to paper/type -- which is the case since we moved to Toronto two and a half years ago. I've spent a lot of time wondering why, in a place with so much to write about, I seem to have nothing to say. Sometimes the ideas are there, but the words won't come. Or maybe I am just shutting them out. Sometimes I panic, and wonder if I'll ever be able to write again. Were my publishing successes just a fluke? Did I ever have talent? Will I ever find my voice again?

And I'm so particular when I write (which doesn't help): I need to have space, aloneness, quiet, a focused mind. These four elements seem to dislike each other's presence in my company of late, and I can't get all of us into the sandbox together. And frankly, it just plain sucks.

13 December 2001, 17:12

judy smile

Thanks for your email, Judy. It was the kick in the ass I needed most.

13 December 2001, 17:12

the not-so-gory details

Thanks for thinking of me. I've been home for a few hours now. Everything went well -- very well in fact. I was knocked out for the entire procedure; one minute I was talking to the doctor about IVs and the next minute a nurse was shaking me awake in the recovery room. That's exactly how all nasty invasive procedures should be done! Anyway, I came away with a clean bill of health and when we got home Trevor made me an amazing grilled cheese sandwich. I'm still a little sleepy -- and a lot happy that everything is done.

12 December 2001, 18:12

colonoscopy: everybody's having one

Pretty soon I will understand Krisis's reference to the surreal event of being able to chat with the rest of my family about our respective colonoscopies. My Mom and brother and having theirs within a few months.

Mine, however, is tomorrow at 1:40 PM.

So my last meal was lunch. And of course I scarfed down a cheese sarnie and chips at the last minute before my 24-hours-of-no-food begins. Let's be clear: if I must go without sustenance for over 24 hours then my stomach is getting what it likes best. Since then it has been a 4 litre jug of Colyte (you can imagine what that does), vegetable broth, juice, and water. I almost asked the nurse if beer was considered a clear liquid -- after all, it's clearer than 5-fruit berry blend! But of course, I have behaved myself because I understand how important this is. Tomorrow morning will be the hardest. I love breakfast, and I love my huge indigo mug filled with strong (soy)milky tea. Tomorrow morning I won't even be able to content myself with bitter black tea with a grape juice chaser.

Although this procedure is old hat for my dad, I'm still not sure what to expect. All the thoughts I have are unpleasant -- except the potential of happy drugs that will make all the nastiness float above my head and dissipate. Please allow this post to act as a warning for anything I may post tomorrow whilst under the influence. Yet, if I'm honest with myself, if I'm conscious and can lift anything at all, it will be a fork.

11 December 2001, 20:12

alien watermelon

Another note... walking home just after five, I noticed that the SkyDome lights have been changed from pink to green. It looks like a giant glowing watermelon fell from the sky and landed behind our building.

10 December 2001, 18:12

sun

At about 4:45 I turned to see yet another brilliant sunset splashed aross the sky behind the airport, and I realized just how fortunate I am to be able to witness the sunrise from my apartment window and the sunset from my office window. Lucky to be book-ended by the sun.

10 December 2001, 18:12

pilfered lock

Drying my hair this morning I noticed something strange: an inch-long stub of hair was sticking out of the left side of my head -- as though someone had lifted up my hair and lopped off a lock underneath. How did that happen?

Trevor offered his comforting explanation: maybe at the party last night someone casually snipped off a piece so that they could go back to their basement lab to begin cloning me.

Yeah, that must be it.

09 December 2001, 11:12

my dad kicks ass

Just for the record: I think that my father is amazing. He is strong. Courageous. Bright. Kind-hearted. And unbelieveably strong. After everything he has been through in the past twelve months, he has accepted every challenge with strength and positivity. Every monster that has tried to knock him down has left quietly shaking its head in disbelief.

This time last year Dad found out that he needed a double by-pass. Two months after the surgery he was diagnosed with cancer. There was more surgery, and tests, and chemotherapy, and more tests. And today was his last day of radiation -- the last day of five long weeks of daily hour-long drives to the hospital. There is something momentous and incredible about this day; a milestone that seemed so distant back in the summer. And even though there is more surgery and treatment to follow, today marks the end of what I thought would be one of the toughest five weeks of all. I don't know what Dad thinks was the most difficult part of the past year -- he has never complained or lost his unshakable determination to fight whatever growled at him from under the bed or hid in the closet.

I believed it as a child, but as an adult I understand its truth: my Dad can kick any monster's ass.

07 December 2001, 16:12

check it out

Trevor has been redesigned.

05 December 2001, 19:12

coincidence

It happened again. Yesterday my cube-neighbour at work introduced me to the Coriolis force -- something that my scientifically-challenged mind only knew before as the "toilet water flushing in the opposite direction in Australia" effect. Tonight, on TechTV, there it was again: my friend Coriolis. I love coincidence.

04 December 2001, 22:12

every seven years

A friend recently told me about the existence of Life-Stage advisors -- counsellors who help people to shape better plans for the future by examining their childhood and adulthood in seven-year segments. The first session is devoted to first memories until around age seven; the next session moves onward to seven to 14, and so on. Apparently, some psychological theories are based on this cycle on the premise that every seven years we experience a significant event or shift in ideology that affects our decisions/life-plans. When you start thinking about it, it gets pretty interesting.

What else in our world mysteriously comes into sync with the seven-year theory? According to junkscience.com, environmental catastrophes last seven years from scientific discovery until "quiet climbdown". On average, people get a new car and buy a new house every six or seven years. There is the infamous "Seven Year Itch" in relationships. People into yoga often pay attention to the seven chakras -- seven specific energy centres of the body . Even those who practise channeling, believe in the Cycles of Seven -- the "natural release of energy every seven years which encourages [one] to move forward and make changes". And lest we forget that we are usually graced by a recession every seven years.

Whether it's scientific or mystical or spiritual or just plain lucky, it appears as though the number seven is more important that I realized.

04 December 2001, 20:12

Chicken Poem on a Kaiser

Chicken Poem on a Kaiser. That's what I read on the Friar & Firkin's hastily-scribbled Specials board when we went in for a late brunch this afternoon. And as long as it was just a poem, and didn't involve any chickens, it sounds like it would be something that I might not mind munching on -- whilst sipping a sonnet of Strongbow of course. I wonder if this is what might grace the Firkin's mighty bun.

02 December 2001, 17:12

World AIDs Day

Today is World AIDs Day. Check out what Dr Gro Harlem Brundtland, Director-General, World Health Organization has to say about AIDs and the future. Find out about UNAIDS -- the United Nations' Programme on HIV/AIDS. Get some stats and info about HIV from AVERT. Read some real-life stories.

01 December 2001, 18:12

some dreams need waterwings

It always intrigues me when some dreams evaporate as consciousness flows in, but others remain, floating on a red air mattress, splashing about and demanding attention.

In last night's dream, an ex-boyfriend from over half my life ago appeared at some kind of party where Trevor and I were running some strange lottery/contest requiring entrants to produce houseplant leaf ballots that would be judged for originality. I asked the ex why he had come to see me after all this time, and he told me that he needed my help. So what am I to make of this? For fun I consulted Dream Moods but their interpretation was lacking completely in orginality. However, I did learn that dreaming about macaroni "signifies that need for you to be frugal, economize, and save money."

Why can't I remember dreams of substance? Why don't the dreams of inspiration or brilliance hang around to splash about in the pool of my memory?

01 December 2001, 16:12