My Hair Dilemma

I recently passed my 47th birthday. It didn't seem like a monumental day (it's not like I crossed over into a new demographic category; now THAT'S traumatizing). My family made it special for me, but other than that, it was just another day. I don't know how I got to this age. I mean, I feel like I've only been on this planet for 25, maybe 27 years.

I am having a problem though. My natural hair color has turned almost totally grey (or white or silver, I'm not sure which). Of course, I have spent a small fortune over the past 15 years to color my hair -- sometimes for my own amusement (wonder what I'd look like blonde) and, lately, for far more practical reasons: to hide the grey.

I've tried highlights on a dark base, highlights on a light base, light colored hair, dark colored hair. Nothing actually hides the grey.

I read with interest recently about Anne Kreamer's new book, Going Grey - What I Learned About Beauty, Sex, Work, Motherhood, Authenticity and Everything Else That Really Matters. Kreamer calculated that she had spent $65,000 over twenty years coloring her grey hair. She became empowered and went au naturel, so to speak. Her experience not only changed her life, but changed her perspective on life, too.

I'm not ready to go full-out grey YET but I think I'm ready to ease into it. So I've been seeking a colorist who will highlight my hair GREY. It seems the world has not yet caught up with us boomers. Every person, product, place assumes I want to COVER MY GREY. But that's not what I want to do. I want someone to artfully ADD grey to my hair so that as my roots grow in they truly do blend in. I want platinum and silver and white streaks.

All of my internet searches return hundreds of thousands of sites with advice on covering up the grey, but nowhere can I find a product or specialist to GIVE ME MY GREY! I read a couple of cases where women were complaining about a stylist who had botched a coloring job and their hair turned out grey. I followed those links in the hopes that they would include the failed color formula. I was hoping to be able to present it to my stylist and ask for the same results.

Attention L'oreal, Clairol, Garnier, Goldwell.... if you make hair color, please start marketing permanent shades and highlights for the boomer market. I'll be your first customer!

Our Own Little Darwin Award Nominee

Yesterday morning when we awoke, the light on our phone was flashing, indicating that there was a message waiting on our answering service. It is our custom to look at the call display before checking the messages; it's like a sneak peek to see who may be thinking about us. More often than not, call display shows Unknown Name Unknown Number, in which case we may not check the message for a few hours. After all, everyone we know has a name.

Yesterday's call display showed the caller's very Distinctive First and Last Names and telephone number. Funny thing, the caller left a message around 2:30 in the morning, yet none of us had heard the phone ring.

Finally, just before 4 p.m., we checked the messages. We were all a little shocked to hear a threatening voice warning us: "Your time has come to an end. I will be taking your life tomorrow at 6 p.m. (Evil laugh.) Goodbye."

Usually, you'd feel threatened hearing a message like that, but one could just make out the sounds of a young teen laughing in the background. It sounded like a prank call. I mean, who says "You'll by dead by 6 PEE-EM tomorrow." If I call you about a date, I may say something like "I'll see you at 2 o'clock tomorrow." I frequently use "p.m." when writing, but I can't even imagine using it in conversation. I thought it was polite of him to say the formal "Goodbye" instead of just hanging up, like I guess I'd expect serial killers would.

We didn't take it too seriously as an actual threat to our safety, but we did want to report it to the police. While waiting for the police to come, I thought I'd do a reverse look-up on the number. It turns out the number is a local cell phone.

I then used Canada411 and found four local families with the same Distinctive Surname. I used Mapquest to identify one of the streets as being in our neighbourhood.

In a moment of inspiration, I decided to look up the name on Facebook. Bingo! There he was. Mr. Distinctive First Name and Last Name, a student at a local high school.

Busted!

The police officer was incredibly impressed with what he called "my investigation." I told him that I am the Empress of all Google searches. He complained that the police don't have access to Facebook as part of their investigative resources. Facebook is blocked on police computers.

Now you could hardly call this an "investigation." In total, the entire process took less than ten minutes.

The police will be making a visit to the young man's school and then speaking with his parents. Kids need to know that there are consequences to their seemingly 'fun' and 'innocent' pranks.

We're all safe, we think. As for me, I've offered to do online research for the regional police on a pay-per-search basis. After all, my first "investigation" appears to be successful.


Twenty minutes after writing this, we heard back from the police officer. It seems Mr. Distinctive First and Last Name was known to police. The officer had already been to his home and spoken to the kid and his parents. The cop seems to have warned him that he's lucky we're such good people and don't want to press charges, otherwise, he'd be spending the night in jail waiting to see a justice of the peace tomorrow morning. From what the officer told me, I'm pretty sure we won't be hearing from the kid again.

Me and Marcia Brady

I was surprised today to learn that I am THIS MUCH younger than Maureen McCormick (51), the actress who played Marcia Brady in the timeless TV show, The Brady Bunch.

I've taken to doing that a lot lately..... comparing my age to the ages of Hollywood celebrities. For example, reading my daughter's hand-me-down edition of People magazine today, I learned that I am younger than Valerie Bertinelli (47), Michelle Pfeiffer (49), and supermodel Iman (52!). That got me wondering about my age relative to other celebs.

You can find ANYTHING on the internet in 30 seconds or less!

My birthday is 10 / 15 / 1960
which means I am 46 years old and about:
34 years 4 months younger than Andy Griffith, age 81
30 years 11 months younger than Dick Clark, age 77
29 years 7 months younger than Leonard Nimoy, age 76
27 years 6 months younger than Carol Burnett, age 74
24 years 9 months younger than Alan Alda, age 71
23 years 3 months younger than Bill Cosby, age 70
17 years 11 months younger than Linda Evans, age 64
15 years 9 months younger than Tom Selleck, age 62
12 years 10 months younger than Ted Danson, age 59
10 years 6 months younger than Jay Leno, age 57
6 years 9 months younger than Oprah Winfrey, age 53
5 years 8 months younger than Kelsey Grammer, age 52
2 years 5 months younger than Drew Carey, age 49
0 years 8 months older than Michael J. Fox, age 46
4 years 1 month older than Calista Flockhart, age 42
8 years 4 months older than Jennifer Aniston, age 38
12 years 2 months older than Alyssa Milano, age 34
17 years 1 month older than Colin Hanks, age 29
22 years 10 months older than Mila Kunis, age 24
30 years 8 months older than Madylin Sweeten, age 16

and that I was:
1 years old at the time Beverly Hillbillies first aired
3 years old when the Addams Family first appeared on TV
5 years old at the time the first Star Trek episode was televised
10 years old when All in the Family was first shown
11 years old at the time the TV series M*A*S*H began
14 years old when Saturday Night Live first aired
17 years old when CBS introduced Dallas
20 years old during the first airing of Hill Street Blues
21 years old at the time the first Cheers episode was televised
25 years old when L.A. Law was first aired on TV
26 years old at the time the series Married with Children began
29 years old when Seinfeld was first televised
30 years old in the month Home Improvement began
33 years old at the time the TV series Friends began
35 years old when Everybody Loves Raymond first aired
38 years old when Who Wants To Be A Millionaire began in the US

Click here to see the TV Age Gauge and find out how old (or how young!) you are relative to the stars, too.

New Art Blog

I've set up a new blog to showcase my art. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

MichelleHendersonArt.blogspot.com

My Brad Pitt Fantasy

Wait! It's not what you think.....

I've had more than enough of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie! They're on the cover of every magazine, the on-again, off-again non-marriage, the children (adopted, natural born, yet-to-be-conceived), the $500,000 necklace, the villas, the movie sets, this city, that city, this country, that country. Now the ever perfect Mr. & Mrs. Smith and perfect little baby Smiths have graced our fair city for the Toronto International Film Festival. Both Sunday newspapers (The Toronto Star and The Toronto Sun) had almost identical Brangelina pictures in vibrant 16 million colors on their front page.

I never would have thought this possible, but I am overdosing on Brad Pitt.

Now some of it is our fault, I must confess. A week ago, my husband and I went to the movie theatre to see Ocean's 13 and then to top off our private Brad Pitt film festival, we came home and watched Fight Club on DVD.

ENOUGH ALREADY!!!!!

Yesterday afternoon, as I took out the garbage, sorted the recycling and washed the kitchen floor, the TV played in the background. The news outlets and entertainment shows were buzzing with sightings of the glorious couple.

And thus my fantasy did begin.

I imagined Brad and Angelina in their fabulous home in Malibu, or Maui or Malawi. They were doing their fabulous Sunday afternoon things: lounging over lunch, the TV playing in the background, the children giggling happily amongst their fabulous toys on the floor. I pictured Brad, a fabulous cup of coffee at his fabulous hand, opening the newspaper and saying to his fabulous non-wife:

"I am so sick of hearing about Michelle Henderson."

Sarah & Jeremy's Wedding - August 25, 2007

A glorious celebration of love!



Sarah & Jeremy’s Wedding

This slide show randomly picked 50 of the almost 100 photos from Sarah & Jeremy's wedding. To view the rest of the photos or to view these photos on Webshots, click here.

More webshots:



Jeremy & Sarah

Click here to see Joe Summers' webshots albums.

$1 Million for Cricket, $0 for Christine Lee

The news today has been dominated by the scandal in the Ontario Ministry of Citizenship and Immigration. Minister Mike Colle doled out $32 million in grants to cultural groups including $1 million to the Ontario Cricket Association (what cricket has to do with citizenship or immigration is the next question*). The thing is, the Ontario Cricket Association had requested a grant of only $150,000. An auditor's report revealed that the Cricket people spent $360,000 of their grant and parked $500,000 in a term deposit. That's how we get our taxpayer dollars working for us.

In the meantime, my sister, Christine, had to find $50,000 in private funding in order to visit the Cleveland Clinic to have a gastrointestinal pacemaker implanted to try to restore her health to the level it was when she had her first (government funded) pacemaker. Christine's story was the subject of a Toronto Star article in October, 2006. Click here to read about her plight. The Ontario government refused to fund or reimburse Christine's surgery and would not allow her to have the surgery here since the GI pacemaker is considered an experimental device -- even though they had previously funded the exact same surgery, the exact same device.

A million dollars for cricket and nothing for Christine. It's hardly a laughing matter, but Chris is a landed immigrant in Canada. Too bad we didn't know the ministry was handing out funds.

*The connection between cricket, citizenship and immigration? According to the now former minister, "Cricket is a sport that brings together a number of, basically, ethnic peoples..." I guess all ethnic peoples, particularly those who play cricket, MUST be either immigrants or citizens, right?

For more information about Christine's fight with the Ontario government, please click here to visit her blog. When Michael Moore was researching stories for his movie Sicko, I sent him a snapshot of Chris's fight. But Canada was the hero in his movie so, unfortunately, her story didn't fit his agenda.

If you're outraged by this story, please share this post with your family and friends by clicking the envelope icon at the bottom of this post. Or leave your comments. Thank you.

I Confess....

I am hooked on Canadian Idol. So hooked, in fact, that for the first time ever, I made sure to watch the show this evening live -- so that I could call in and register my vote for the next Idol.

Lju and I are both rooting for Jaydee Bixby from Drumheller, AB. Instead of sitting him in front of the TV to watch Teletubbies when he was a baby, his parents must have played hours and hours of Elvis archives. The kid has a voice with such depth and resonance it belies his 16 years. (16 years for gosh sake!) I haven't heard -- or seen -- anything like this kid in 25 years -- or maybe ever! If his sincerity is an act, then the kid deserves an Oscar, too. This handsome young boy is going to be a superstar! I promise, I'll buy his CD the day it hits the market! I think I must have used the automatic redial at least 25 times to register our votes for Jaydee tonight. (Thank God it's a toll-free call!)

But I must confess that I also registered half as many votes for Carly Rae Jepsen, too. Here's another superstar. She's exotically beautiful, tremendously sweet and her stylings are sophisticated in a way that neither American Idol nor Canadian Idol has seen. The moment captured immediately following her audition was priceless. Zack Werner begged her not to take the gold ticket and to, instead, sign with him and make a record right away. I was right there with him. She deserves a record deal and tour, pronto. I'll buy Carly Rae's CD the day it's out, too. I can't wait to hear a mix of originals and interpretive cover tunes. But I still would like to see Jaydee win.

It's a very tough field right now with this top 9. The weakest performances tonight, I think, were Dwight D'eon and Martha Joy. Both have terrific talent -- I'm rooting for Dwight because I'd like to see him buy his ticket off his dad's Nova Scotia fishing boat. I think Martha is just too classically trained for this show. She's got great pipes, but she just doesn't seem authentic when she's performing pop hits.

Greg Neufeld needs to stay at least until the top 5 because he is so good looking! He definitely wins for the best looking older brother (did you see last week's episode?) Be still my beating heart! (Poor guy... how does it feel to have middle aged women lusting after him?)

Tara Oram has a great set of pipes and legs, too. I really enjoy her performances and she looks great on stage. The thing is, her game face is a little too much like Celine Dion's. Irritatingly so.

Matt Ripley and Khalila Glanville both impressed the hell out of me tonight. They each gave amazingly soulful performances. Nice work, both, although Matt could use a little choreographic coaching (I wasn't sure if he was feeling the song or had heartburn) and Khalila needs to stop being so terrified on that stage. I take it she's terrified; I'd hate to think that she's really that unfriendly.

Brian Melo is a force to be reckoned with. I'm not fond of his musical choices, but the guy shows up each week to win. And he has the coolest creative facial hair. Top 5 for sure.

I find myself liking Ben Mulroney and all of the judges; they each have something to offer and their musical influences and tastes add colour to the commentary. Even Jake Gold is likeable. I don't think I can pick a favourite, I respect them all. They've come a long way from season one. Although they are certainly different than the AI judges, I think that's part of their appeal.

If you want to know where I'll be tomorrow evening -- I'll be parked in front of the TV awaiting the results of this week's voting! I confess....

By George, I Think I've Got it!

Today a friend sent a viral email with a powerpoint presentation attachment that made beautiful promises about my life if only I forwarded it to 10 people within ten minutes of opening it. Of course, if I didn't immediately forward the message, bad things would befall me and those I love.

I didn't pass it along. I didn't think the presentation was all that clever. The litmus test I use is whether my sisters will enjoy or appreciate the message. This one didn't pass the test.

So I hit delete instead of forward. And then it occurred to me.

A few years ago, before email overload, I was less discriminating about the forwards I would share with family and friends. I passed them all along -- although I admit a few times I included a disclaimer - "This is dumb, but I didn't want to take the chance of bad things happening to me if I didn't send it."

Then, as the world bombarded us with spam, and I began to appreciate how much time email wastes most days, I really did become more selective about which messages I'd pass along.

It became easier and easier to delete messages that promised curses on my life for the next seven years.

This morning it hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't have breast cancer when I was forwarding those goofy, time-wasting, spelling-mistake-filled powerpoint messages that steal people's photography and art without credit, promising prayers, great riches, true love. Then I started deleting them. Then I had breast cancer.

So I'm going back to the bad old days -- I'm forwarding everything to everyone. I'm not taking any more chances!

Knock wood.

It's Always Something

I spent the day today in a series of doctor's appointments. I attended the first appointment this morning with my sister, Christine. We are initiating genetic testing for the breast cancer gene in our family. Before having a routine blood test, we had to meet with a genetic counsellor. My genes are feeling much better now, thank you.

After reviewing our family tree, the counsellor deemed that my father's side of the family was "suspicious." Chris and I started laughing hysterically. Maybe it's those dark, shifty eyes, or perhaps his swarthy complexion. This explains why he always liked Pink Panther movies and Tom Clancy thriller novels.

It turns out today's Toronto Star story was prophetic:

Breast cancer gene often passed down 'silently'
Jun 19, 2007 04:07 PM
Carla K. Johnson
Associated Press

CHICAGO – A deadly gene's path can hide in a family tree when a woman has few aunts and older sisters, making it appear that her breast cancer struck out of nowhere when it really came from Dad." Click here to read the full story.

After our appointment in Mississauga, I went to the local hospital to see my specialist. It has been four weeks since I was discharged from the hospital and sent home with the Freedom Vac. For the past 28 days twenty-four hours a day, I have carted this wonder machine with me everywhere. It was like having a long umbilical cord that caught on EVERYTHING: kitchen cupboards, door knobs, lawn furniture, the bottom of the bathroom door (almost fainted from the pain). I was extremely grateful to have the machine and was very proud of my cleverness in rigging it up as a fanny pack so that I had much more mobility.

The good news is that my doctor today ordered the vacuum removed. The wound has healed enough to now be managed the good, old-fashioned way. Nurses will still come to the house every second day to dress the wound and ensure that it continues healing.

The bad news? I was shocked to be treated as if I had the plague. The attending nurse came in practically wearing body armour, equipped with a pile of tools for collecting samples. She ordered the doctor to put on gloves if he was treating me. He looked alarmed. "She's been tagged VSE," the nurse barked. They started medical speak about VSE. "Excuse me, isn't VSE an antibiotic resistant bacteria?" I asked.

After much yelling by the attending nurse, my surgeon and his head of nursing, combined with a number of phone calls to the infectious disease control (IDC) department, I learned that a patient in the room with me during my hospital stay was VSE positive. That means that I could be exposed and a carrier, too.

I lifted my head off the hospital bed and looked at my doctor. "So, what you're telling me is that I have cooties?" I asked. It helped diffuse some of the stress.

Why wasn't I notified? According to the very busy administrator in IDC, they're too busy. "Do you know how many faxes we receive every day?" she snarled at the second nurse.

If I am a carrier, I've infected hundreds of people in the past four weeks, including 32 people in the outpatient lab services at Credit Valley Hospital in Mississauga today alone. Then there's the risk to my sister Christine, who already has a compromised immune system and is recovering from her own surgery last week. (Please read about Christine's adventures here.) My own wound is at great risk, too.

I have to wait ten days for the test results. From the research I did on-line, it appears that honey is an effective antidote to VSE infections. Let's hope I don't need to know that.

Today I've thought frequently about Rosanna Rosannadanna, aka Gilda Radner. Gilda, who died of ovarian cancer far too early, entitled her autobiography, It's Always Something, which is exactly what her character always told Jane Curtin on the original Saturday Night Live.

It's Always Something.

On the other hand, my sister Roni recently told me "90% of Everything Turns Out to Be Nothing."

I have a feeling both are true.

I Couldn't Make this Up if I Tried!

It seems Paris Hilton today professed a commitment to "stop acting dumb." Duh, broke that promise already, didn't she? Evidently, Paris made her stunning announcement in a collect telephone call from jail to Barbara Walters. If you were Paris's press agent, how would you handle this breaking news story? I mean, would you issue a press release on the subject? Let's not even discuss the poor little rich heiress making a collect call.... that's just too easy of a target, isn't it?

I wanted to post a picture of Paris on my blog so I thought I'd visit her website. Stop me from killing myself laughing. Under the headline 'Appearances' it actually says, "There are no current appearances planned." I guess she's tied up.

We could have so much fun with this.... Imagine the headlines over the next few weeks:

Mel Gibson Promises to Stop anti-Semitic Rants

OJ Simpson Vows to Find Nicole's Killer if it's the Last Thing on Earth that He Does

Rosie O'Donnell Pledges to Kiss and Make Up with Donald Trump, no Elizabeth Hasselbeck, no George Bush....

Gary Busey Swears to Not Act Insane

OK, that part WAS made up. This is too much fun! Send me your suggestions, I'll be happy to add them to the list....

Don't Leave Important Things to the Last Minute

Hot off the presses #1: Winnie Mandela was denied a visa to enter Canada the day before she was scheduled to give the key note address at a fundraising arts gala earlier this week. The gala was to include excerpts of a newly composed opera, The Passion of Winnie, based on her colourful and controversial life.

Hot off the presses #2: Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper will not meet with U2 frontman and global anti-poverty activist Bono during this week's G8 summit in Germany. The PM's spokesperson said, "The Prime Minister has spoken in the past via telephone with Bono and obviously the Prime Minister has a very full agenda for the next two days."

The news/talk radio station phone lines have gone crazy the past couple days with spirited, but not always intelligent, debate about whether Winnie is being unfairly targeted and whether Prime Minister Stephen Harper is out of touch with today's global issues. The callers are passionately divided.

But it seems to me that everyone has missed the point. The opera based on Winnie Mandela's life has been in the works since 2003. Although the producers may not have finalized their funding that far in advance, I'm certain the premiere has been scheduled for at least a few months. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the organizers contacted Ms. Mandela first to see when she might be able to visit Toronto, then scheduled the event around her commitment. So, you know you're going to Canada in a few months and you need a visa. Isn't that something you do -- or your people do -- MONTHS in advance? If she had been denied the visa a month or two before the event, it would hardly have been the breaking news story it became. Convicted criminals are denied entry into Canada all the time. It's only news because someone left it to the last minute.

Same thing with Bono and Prime Minister Harper. I'm sure the dates of this year's G8 summit were long ago published. As one of the G8 member countries, our PM was fully expected to attend. Why didn't Bono's people request some time on the Prime Minister's itinerary months ago? I know from my international travel experience, you confirm all of your appointments long before you leave for your trip -- especially those most critical to your mission. You sure as heck don't show up and hope to get a meeting.

And then complain about it when you don't.

That's Another Fine Art We've Lost!

The world should be mourning the loss of Saskatchewan farmer, Gus Wickstrom, who died this weekend at the age of 69.

Why is that we know so much about Paris Hilton, but, until now, we've never heard or read about poor, not-so-old Gus?

Gus Wickstrom of Tompkins, Saskatchewan was one of a dying breed of weather prognosticators using the spleen of a pig. According to the Toronto Star:

"...Wickstrom would slaughter a pig, pluck out its spleen, bite into it, and come up with a forecast for the area around Tompkins in southwest Saskatchewan.

Wickstrom was so good that he was featured in The Old Farmers Almanac and his prognostications were published in several community newspapers and websites."

Evidently Wickstrom was 90% accurate in his long-term forecasts. The most forward-looking forecast you'll get from the Weather Channel is 7-days -- and even then, with all their fancy equipment and science, they're not always that accurate.

Gus learned his technique from his father. The Star continues the story:

"According to The Old Farmer's Almanac, there was some method to his long-range six-month forecasting system.

He would divide the spleen into six areas – one piece for each month. The piece closest to the pig's head shows the current month while the bottom represents the end of the forecast period.

Where the spleen thickens would indicate a change in the weather – likely a cold spell."

Gus also claimed that he could forecast wind and rain by biting into the pig's spleen.

The thing I'd like to know, of course, is HOW THE HECK DID THEY LEARN THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? Imagine back in the dust-bowl days, a coupla farmboys, having just completed all their chores, are sitting around playing truth or dare.... Well, you can picture the rest....

I do hope that Gus passed his knowledge and expertise on to the next generation before he, um, passed on. I, for one, would hate to think that pig spleen weather forecasting is now exinct.

With Breast Cancer, a Week is a Very Long Time*

Just home from a couple days in the hospital. I hate to admit it, but it was a very good thing for me. Almost 72 hours doing absolutely NOTHING but healing. Obviously my body needed it. I have a wound that, with traditional packing and closing, the doctor anticipates would take two months to heal. Instead, they have hooked me up with a Freedom Vac that should heal the wound in one-to-two weeks!

Our cat is more than a little freaked out! She sure missed me the past couple days. Now she's most curious about this little black shoulder pack that accompanies me everywhere. It purrs like a male cat in heat. The Freedom Vac is supposed to give you the freedom to carry on with life -- I'm not sure I'll be making a visit to the grocery store. If you didn't know it was the machine, you'd think I had uncontrolled flatulence! We sure won't be going to the movie theatre anytime soon, either.

The Freedom Vac is just slightly bigger than a portable DVD player and weighs about the same as a laptop computer (their website says 3 pounds, but I must have the older model). It's new and takes a little getting used to remembering to bring it everywhere with me. After we got home from the hospital this morning, my father asked, "What happens if you forget to take it with you?"

It's like that scene in the movie 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' when Toula is working at the travel agency with the headset on and Ian comes in to see her. (Click the link to watch the movie clip!)

*Today's blog title was inspired by Harold Wilson, former prime minister of the United Kingdom, who said "In politics, a week is a very long time." Courtesy of The Book of Origins by Trevor Homer.

No Wonder You're Tired All the Time!

"Women constitute 53% of the earth’s population. They perform two-thirds of the world’s work for which they earn 10% of the income. They own 1% of the property and they have 100% of the children. Given these statistics, women should hold the majority of the political power in the world. -– Helen Caldicott, M.D., pediatrician, anti-nuclear activist, author of If You Love This Planet

We don’t because we are too tired from looking after our families, jobs and homes." -- Lorna Vanderhaeghe

Lorna Vanderhaeghe, a researcher and journalist in nutritional medicine, offers a valuable website on women's health and nutrition, including free access to the online book, "An A-Z Woman's Guide to Vibrant Health." I highly recommend spending some time at her site. While much of her focus is on women's health, she does research and review topics of general interest and has a few vitamin/supplement formulations designed especially for men, too. Click here sign up to receive her free enewsletter.

Yeah, I know I said I wasn't going to blog about my battle with breast cancer. It has consumed my life; I guess I've changed my mind.

The Bystander Effect

The Bystander Effect is described in Wikipedia as “a psychological phenomenon in which someone is less likely to intervene in an emergency situation when others are present than when he or she is alone.”

In the parable of The Good Samaritan, two men bypassed the victim without offering any help. Psychologists coined The Bystander Effect in the 1960’s after the sexual assault and murder of Kitty Genovese in New York. Kitty’s assault and murder was witnessed by over 35 people, yet nobody intervened to stop the attack.

I’m a participant, not a bystander. I don’t necessarily gauge my reaction according to the people around me, I assess the situation and take action. I evaluate a situation and interpret whether it’s an emergency. In the next second, I ask myself if I have a responsibility to take action. Then I choose the most appropriate action.

Even in non-urgent situations, I exercise the same process. I ask myself, ‘What needs to be done? What responsibility do I have in getting it done? Then I take action so that the required results are achieved.’.

Sometimes doing nothing is the right action. But here’s the thing: if it’s also the easiest option to choose, then it’s probably not the right thing to do.

Maybe just knowing the Bystander Effect exists helps me not become one.

from CBC Sunday Report (May 13, 2007)

I am uninspired, my thoughts are scattered and unfocused, so today's post is courtesy of my sister, Christine Lee.

Way Too Much TV

Today, two weeks after my surgery, I still have a very limited range of movement. I cannot turn my torso from side to side and can only sleep sitting up or flat on my back, if I can sleep at all. My attention span for great literature is quite limited. I started reading John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath" and rereading my favourite book of all-time, "Larry's Party" by Carole Shields, but both books are too heavy to hold beyond a few minutes. Even some magazines are too heavy; the new issue of Oprah Winfrey's O magazine has more than 400 pages for God's sake! This means I've spent the most time ever in my life watching endless hours of television.

Some of my viewing choices have been extraordinary TV - yesterday I watched a two-part, four-hour documentary by director Spike Lee about the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina that was both disturbing and compelling. It is a combination of social commentary and filmmaking art. It's featured on the Movie Network this month and I highly recommend it. Set your PVR to record it on May 24.

I also confess to enjoying a 4:00 a.m. presentation of "10 Things I Hate About You," a modern adaptation of Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew" starring a very young Heath Ledger. The script was surprisingly sharp and the lead actors very strong for their young ages. Overall, it reminded me of an upscale kind of John Hughes movie twenty years after the original Brat Pack movies.

It seems though that for every hour of quality presentation, there are 10,000 hours of useless, moronic, uninspired crap. Someone offered Star TV as a good source for mindless programming. I almost choked when I saw this program in the line-up: "Hollywood Stars: An In-Depth Look at Jennifer Aniston." Now, it's not that I'm not a fan of hers, after all, where would I be without 37 episodes of Friends every day? but has Jennifer Aniston done anything with depth? I'm guessing that the follow-up program after that would be something like "The Many Sides of David Schwimmer."

Have you seen the current Clearasil commercial? The one where the older brother counsels his younger brother on getting clearer skin? It's like watching a poorly dubbed movie from Hong Kong, except both the brothers are speaking English. It's just that what their mouths are saying is not what the voices are speaking. I tried to find a copy of the commercial on-line, but, alas, it seems unavailable. For the budget Clearasil has for buying commercial time, you'd think they'd have invested a little more to ensure they had a good script from the get-go.

Speaking of commercials, there is a current Chrysler Sebring commercial on the air, perhaps you've seen it? Not one to miss many details, I actually try to read the fine print. Often car commercials warn "Stunt driver on closed course. Do not attempt." The Sebring commercial actually states in very small white print along the bottom of the screen: "Always sit properly in seat and securely fasten seatbelt." OK, I understand the seatbelt warning, but what driver needs to be reminded to "Always sit properly in seat"? (Click here to read the fine print on the Chrysler website....)

There is a program I didn't see: "Hollywood's Greatest Mysteries." It inspired me to wonder: how did the producers of "The Toy" and Nacho Libre ever get the money to make their films? Didn't anyone ever read the scripts? If Tori Spelling's father hadn't been one of TV's most successful producers, would she have ever had an acting career at all? Why did the early "Everybody Loves Raymond" writers change the twins' names from Matthew and Gregory to Michael and Geoffrey?

It's 4:30 in the morning. Why am I spending any time at all thinking about this crap?

Why I Haven't Called or Written

These past two weeks have been very difficult. Forgive me if I haven't written or returned your call. Sitting at the computer takes more muscles than I have right now. You might not think it, but talking on the phone takes a tremendous amount of energy. I am lacking in both muscles and energy right now.

My days are measured in increments between pain pills. The accomplishments have been few -- two trips to see the doctors, my first shower after surgery, washing my hair on my own, sleeping through the night.

I've had a few set backs in the past couple of days so the pain has been extreme. Friday night I took to bed and, since then, have ventured no further than the bathroom. My husband has been promising that every day can only get better. It's a good thing I am an optimist; I believe him.

It seems cancer is a major theme in our family's life.


My mother's father, my Uncle Dave, died of lung cancer almost nine years ago. My cousin, Cathy, one of Uncle Dave's daughters, is the chair of the Allen Park, Michigan Relay for Life event to benefit the American Cancer Society May 19-20, 2007.

Cathy has asked my sister, Roni, and me to be the poster children of this year's event. I am honoured.

Cancer runs up both sides of our family tree. On my mother's side, her brother, Dave, and sister, Rosemary, both died from lung cancer. Breast cancer seems to come from my father's side of the tree, including my father's sister, Pat, then Roni, now me.

During this battle with breast cancer, I am already grateful to the American Cancer Society for their on-line resources and support. If you would like to support Cathy's Relay efforts, I'd be grateful, too. After all, I'm one of the poster children for cancer this year.

Smelling the Spring Flowers

Today is day 5 post-double-mastectomy-breast-cancer surgery. It is difficult to remind myself that life is good. This is a horrible disease, a painful antidote, a life-changing event over which I have very, very little control. Not easy to accept for a self-admitted control freak.

I have been so tempted to name this post "Tits and Pussy." I figured it would likely generate a lot of readers, many of whom would have been so disappointed by the content. The tits part, I think, is self-explanatory. For almost two months now my breasts have been the centre of my universe. For five days now, the centre of my entire being. The pussy part might be a little surprising to some. It seems that our cat, Chia, cannot forget that I have saved her life twice in the past couple months. Since I came home from surgery last Wednesday, she has not left my side. If I dare leave my bed without an attendant, she follows me, tattling at the top of her lungs to anyone who'll listen. In telling a story to my mother yesterday, I pretended to cry. The poor cat started to panic. It took hours of petting her with my one good hand to convince her that I was not in any danger. Most people have a guardian angel - I have a guardian cat!

Believe it or not, it has been wonderful having her here for comfort and love. Most of the burden of caring for me has been on the strong shoulders of my wonderful husband, Ljuban. After all, he's been my primary care-giver, drain-emptier, pee-assister, hair-washer, tea-maker, up-and-down-the-stairs-runner, with much-appreciated assistance from my Mom and daughter, Shannon. But it's been the cat who's been there to make sure that I've adjusted my pillow properly, have my left arm elevated, am covered and warm even though the windows have been open on these beautiful summer-like spring days. She's the only one who knows if I've been crying, hurting, grimacing, shifting position by degrees.

She's been my loyal companion through countless episodes of The Munsters. Yes, The Munsters has (have?) been my escape through this recovery. My brother, Joe, lent us the box set some time ago where it sat largely ignored on the DVD pile. What better way to not think than to immerse yourself in the antics of America's first ghoulishly funny family? Once I am well, I probably won't watch another episode again as long as I live (I hope), and I'm sure I shall quickly forget them all, but these past few days and very long nights, they are my refuge. It takes far less commitment than watching TV. If I fall asleep I can quickly rewind to my last conscious memory. It generates only a few belly laughs, a few more chuckles and is incredibly well-written, well-acted and wholesomely entertaining. I have enjoyed watching the evolution of the writing and production teams, the characters, costumes, budgets over time. Since there are credit courses in university on shows like Seinfeld (I don't get it) and The Simpsons (ditto), there should certainly be critical analysis courses on The Cultural Evolution of The Munsters.

I'm sorry if you haven't heard from me. I have written very few emails since it takes a lot of energy to sit up and type at my computer. My left arm is very numb, and seemingly feeling numb-er the more the medication wears off. It is even more difficult to find the energy to talk on the phone.

I have a lot of thoughts although very few are coherent. Far fewer are interesting at this time to anyone other than me.

I have been blessed with an abundance of spring flowers, thank you dear Friends! Our bedroom is quite colourful and lively, so much so, that we have started spreading the bouquets and arrangements throughout the house.

Today I ventured out for a "walk" -- it was my first time downstairs and a few steps beyond our front porch -- to enjoy the spring flowers now blooming in our gardens.

Instead of focusing on my pain, misery, feelings of despair, today's post is entitled "Smelling the Spring Flowers" because it is positive, optimistic and hopeful. And probably more family-appropriate than "Tits and Pussy."

Chia Update April 3, 2007

Chia came home from the 'hospital' on Saturday, March 31 after 11 days at the veterinarian's. She was not yet out of the woods, but they had weaned her off the intravenous and thought she could probably best finish recuperating at home. I wanted to wait a few days to make sure she was improving before publishing an update.

The first few hours she was home, she found deep, dark places in the house in which to hide, as I've noticed sick cats do. After about five or six hours, she started venturing out of her hiding spots and was starving for affection. Her fur was coming out in handfuls - I think from both the trauma of being sick and being away from home for so long.

She has hardly left my lap. Yesterday morning she had to visit the vet's office again. The goal was to take blood to ensure that her kidney levels are improving. While she's become quite accustomed to the vet, she was not fully cooperative so they weren't able to get a conclusive test. The vet told us to make sure that she's eating the new, low protein food and drinking plenty of water.

Chia's eyes look brighter and her face looks happier. I tried to get her to pose for an updated photo, and this was the shot we got. She's not fully back to her old self, but we are both quite hopeful.

Thank you to everyone who's written or called with concern about our little kitty.

Now to collect the $2,100.00 in vet bills that we've paid to save her life!

Guest Post - Petcetera Vice President Richard Kaga

I received a reply this week from Petcetera in reply to my complaint about the recent Menu Foods recall. I asked Richard Kaga for permission to reprint his email here:

"Dear Michelle,

Thank you for expressing your concern. I visited your blog and was saddened to here of Chia's condition. We hope she is able to recover from it. We were first made aware of the recall on Saturday morning, March 17th and immediately sent instructions to all stores to remove the affected product (specific brands of wet food cans and foil pouches) from the shelves. Since then we have updated our website several times, followed up and provided additional direction to our stores, and answered numerous inquiries from customers. Your comments regarding what was communicated to you by our Ajax store were disappointing and have been addressed with them. We understand how important this matter is and it has been our highest priority since it was announced.

Sincerely,
Richard Kaga
Vice President
Canadian Petcetera Limited Partnership"

I'd like to think that my one small voice is helping to change the world in a positive way.

Kicking Cancer Ass

My sister Roni is beating cancer with a combination of courage, fortitude and 17 pair of kick-ass “cancer boots.” I think her wonderful husband, Wayne, bought her a pair of boots for every chemotherapy treatment plus a few extras on those really tough, really low days. She’s been a strong, brave soldier – even when she didn’t want to be. Having completed chemo, Roni is now undergoing five weeks of radiation. Every day she reports which pair of boots she's worn for that day's treatment: purple with fur, black patent leather, brown suede... I think she's most looking forward to getting a few new pairs as she nears the end of her treatment regimen.

Now, I guess it's my turn. Just over a month ago, I learned I have breast cancer. Same as Roni. Same as my Aunt Pat. Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. It's my turn to join the club. Statistics say 1 in 9, I'm thinking it's a lot more pervasive that that. After all, I have three sisters; this makes it two in four.

If you're a regular or deep reader of this blog, you may know that I had a mammogram and breast ultrasound last September. Turns out the doctors missed it then. (BTW, I take back every nice thing I said about that mammo machine.)

Since "the boot thing" has already been done, Roni and Wayne sent me my very own pair of kick cancer ass shoes to wear to my first appointment with the breast surgeon.

These are definitely kick ass shoes. In fact, they remind me of the shoes worn by Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz.

Surgery is scheduled for April 18. I don't quite know what to expect after that. Some of my recovery will be different than Roni's, some of it may be similar. It's a good thing I've taken these last six months to get healthy. I've lost 25+ pounds and have been working out to tone and strengthen my body. I didn't know it then, but I suppose it has all been so I'd be healthy enough - emotionally and physically - to kick cancer ass.

Although I may update from time to time, I don't plan to blog about my cancer experience. It's far too personal.... I mean, it's not exactly the same as confessing that I watch American Idol. (More on AI later.)

And besides, right now, I'm still worried about our cat!

Chia Part 3

Chia is in the hospital. She's spending the night at the emergency clinic in Whitby. The prognosis is not good. She has renal failure.

Last Friday, upon learning of the pet food recall, I sent an email to Colin Perkel, the writer for Canadian Press who broke the original story in Canada. I wrote to object that there had been "There had been no complaints from Canadian pet owners".

Mr. Perkel filed a follow-up story today, quoting me from my blog. Click here to read today's CP story.

In fact, there have been hundreds of reported cases in Canada. Here are just a few of the confirmed stories:

Winnipeg Free Press

The Globe and Mail

CBC News

Even the Ontario Veterinary Medical Association has acknowledged the link between tainted food and an increase in renal failure, particularly in cats.

The saga continues. Let's hope we're one of the stories with a happy ending.

I Smell A Class Action Suit - Where Do I Sign Up?

It's been confirmed. Our cat, Chia, has been eating an assortment of Special Kitty cat foods I purchased at Wal-Mart. Luckily, we buy a combination of Whiskas (not affected by the recent recall) and Special Kitty. It appears as though perhaps we delayed the onset of deadly complications by randomly alternating the foods she's been eating over the past month. Last Thursday evening my husband made the connection between the Special Kitty food and the cat's erratic behaviour. From that point, we started feeding her only Whiskas.

The thing was, she wasn’t eating. On Saturday morning we took Chia to the vet. To say that our cat doesn't like to visit the vet is a severe understatement. This wonderful, gentle, loving cat, who also happened to be very weak from not eating, turns into a vicious, demon-possessed wild creature in the presence of a veterinarian. The vet told us one of the symptoms of renal failure is a foul odour from the cat's mouth. Unfortunately, the vet was in a bit of a hurry and didn't want to take the time to fully investigate Chia's health. She sent us home, $150 lighter with some food samples, and told us to watch her closely during the next 24 to 48 hours.

Every time the cat meowed the most vile smell emitted from her mouth. I can only imagine what death smells like; I'm sure it's not unlike this.

Sunday morning the cat was definitely worse. In our experience, cats hide when they are sick. We couldn’t find Chia anywhere. Eventually, she came weakly after we had been calling for a long time. She had eaten nothing, had not taken any water, had not eliminated anything into her litter box. We called the emergency clinic. After waiting almost three hours, she was seen by the emergency vet. Their recommendation: $1,200 in tests.

While we were waiting at the emergency clinic, at least six big dogs (all from 75 lbs to over 120 lbs) came in, all with identical symptoms to our very sick cat. In fact, Chia would normally consider a dog her mortal enemy. That many dogs would surely notice the smell of a cat sitting on my lap. They were all so ill, they didn't bother with each other at all. In fact, Chia laid in my arms like a weak child, wrapped in a blanket, mewing softly from time to time in pain.

The one thing it seemed all of these dogs had in common was their pet food, a combination of premium brands (Iams and Eukanuba) and grocery store brands (President’s Choice, Price Chopper, etc.).

Chia did finally get a huge spunk of energy when it was time to be examined by the vet. As Lju tried to help lift her on to the scale, she chomped down with hundreds of pounds of pressure, puncturing his index finger in four places and drawing a stream of blood even in her weakened state. It turns out she had lost 5 oz. in weight since Saturday morning. She was definitely becoming sicker.

We had to pass on the $1200 in investigations. We left another $150 lighter and went to the pet food store to stock up on fresh food. I stayed in the car with the cat while Ljuban went into the store.

I first read about the pet food recall around midnight on Friday/Saturday morning. (It appears the company serviced the original media release around 4:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon.) We shopped at Petcetera Store #125 (there are 46 Petcetera locations in Canada) on Sunday afternoon at exactly 2:57 p.m. My husband consulted with two of the workers on the floor, explaining that our cat was severely ill from the tainted food. They were well aware of the recall. Not only did they still have Eukanuba and Iams foods on the shelves, they actually recommended the Nutro Natural Choice brand to my husband, telling him it was safe because it was produced by a Canadian company (Menu Foods, the recalling company, is a Canadian Income Trust). Of course, trusting their expertise, he purchased the brand (luckily, together with some Techni-Cal). We checked all of the brands against the recall list. More than 38 hours after the recall was announced, not only were they still selling a recalled brand, they were, in fact, recommending it. At the time of this post, the Petcetera website has no mention of the pet food recall on their website.

Just now, I checked the Menu Foods site again. It seems they have added two additional brands of cat food (yesterday there were only 40 brands listed) – but they do not show the list as having been updated as of today’s date.

Yesterday, I also visited the Eukanuba and Iams brands websites. It is important to know that Iams had no notice on their website as of yesterday. The linked press release was posted today, although not identified as being of today’s date. I could find nothing about the recall on the Whiskas website. Senior management at Master Foods, the makers of Whiskas, should be ripped to shreds on this one. Any director of publicity or marketing should know rule #1 in a time of crisis: post a press statement reaffirming trust in your brand while your competitors are being slammed in the market. As of today’s date, the Master Foods website states “There are no new Press Releases / Backgrounders / Fact Sheets in the last 90 days.” If Master Foods needs a new Vice President of Marketing, they know how to reach me.

Hooray for Royal Canin foods, maker of Techni-Cal. Their director of PR is on the ball.

I am outraged at the way this has been managed by Menu Foods, its licensors and its competitors. I am disappointed in how dismissive two veterinarians have been to the urgency of this matter. Never mind the economic risks, I am disillusioned yet again by the health risks of globalization. I am appalled at how slow retail has been to react. It’s no wonder people became so very ill and died from eating tainted spinach. Wait for something really big to get into our food supply. We can only hope that society will respond with more urgency to save human lives. This should be a lesson to us all.

In the meantime, we have spent more than $350 and our cat isn't out of the woods yet. Do I smell a class action lawsuit? Where do I sign up?

Menu Foods Wet Cat Food Recall

Our cat, Chia, has been sick most of the week. Yesterday my husband made the connection between the assortment of Special Kitty foods she's been eating and how lethargic and seemingly "sad" this cat has been for the past seven days. We purchase all of our Special Kitty wet and chunky cat foods at Wal-Mart.

This evening I read about the pet food recall at Menu Foods, one of North America's largest pet food producers.

The Canadian Press story by Colin Perkel reported:

"Menu Foods, one of the leading North American private-label and contract manufacturer of wet pet-food products, produced more than one billion containers last year.

It supplies its products to 17 of the top 20 retailers in North America for sale under store labels such as Master Choice, Compliments and Select and manufactures for several national brands.

The story further reported, "One dog and a "small number" of cats in the U.S. are reported to have died from kidney failure after eating the food....There had been no complaints from Canadian pet owners."

Um, excuse me! I'd like to complain about this. What are we supposed to do now? Luckily, we had some Whiskas wet, chunky food. But it has just now occurred to me that Whiskas brand may be affected, too. Unfortunately, as of the time of this post, the Menu Foods website is not accessible.

I had noticed that our cat had no energy. She always comes when we call her name. Nothing this week has been enough to inspire her to move off the sofa. On those few times when she has ventured a little further, I noticed that she was extremely uncoordinated -- she slipped off the sofa several times for no apparent reason.

What do we do now? How do we ensure that our cat will recover with no lasting side effects?

Updated March 17, 2007: The Menu Foods website is now working, and, in fact, the Special Kitty brand has more than 100 affected products. I am happy to report that the Whiskas brand is NOT made by Menu Foods. Can you guess what kind of cat food she'll be eating from now on?

I tried posting a comment to the Menu Foods website but the form is not working. Instead I sent them an email. Any chance they planning to reimburse pet owners their veterinary bills?

Give Me A Hand, Would You?

From AOL news: A young doctor who admitted to severing a hand from a cadaver as a medical student, then giving it to a stripper, was fined Thursday and told to stay out of trouble for 15 months.

“I never knew it was illegal,” the doctor said. Oh yeah, sure. “I just thought it was kinky, not illegal,” must be how he rationalized it. Come on! How many people do YOU know keep a cadaver hand on their dresser?

Maybe she was just a really busy stripper and she said to the guy, “You know, I really could use an extra hand around here.”

I guess we have to hand it to the judge. He could have punished the guy with community service. You know, like giving hand-outs at the soup kitchen.

Thank goodness the stripper never said to him, ‘Have a heart.” He might have interpreted that as a question. Someone should tell this guy that we don’t REALLY give HEARTS for Valentine’s Day.

Air Canada - Love 'em and Hate 'em

My daughter came home yesterday for 24 hours for a 'real job' opportunity from her 'retirement' in Florida. It was a harrowing day for her. After four hours sleep, she left her villa at 5 a.m. to go to the West Palm Beach airport to catch a 7:00 a.m. flight, stopping in Washington, DC before continuing on to Toronto. At 7:30 a.m. she called to let us know her flight was delayed. An hour later, she called again, this time to let us know that the flight leg from DC to Toronto was cancelled due to bad weather. They would put her up in Washington and fly her out sometime Monday.

In all my years of business travel, there are two things I have learned: don't complain about mechanical delays or delays due to bad weather.

Shannon's bag had already been checked through to Toronto via Washington, but since her appointment was in Toronto at 9:00 Monday morning, being stranded in Washington, DC was not going to help. I told her not to board the DC flight; don't worry about her bag, it will get here eventually (it still hasn't, but that'll be another story, I'm sure).

Now, how to get her to Toronto? She checked at the Air Canada desk but all flights to Toronto from West Palm Beach were booked solid. In the meantime, I was on the phone with Orbitz (where she'd booked her flight) and she was surfing the internet via wireless connection, trying to find a way to get her home.

Voila! She found a reasonable fare and flight for the same day, leaving from Fort Lauderdale and coming to Toronto via Ottawa. Only problem was, Shannon was in West Palm Beach. And her friend had dropped her off at the airport. She called her friend in a panic to came back to pick her up and race her to Fort Lauderdale. If it all worked out OK, Shannon would land in Toronto around 6 p.m.

They got there with minutes to spare. Air Canada - Love 'em #1. The ticket agent processed Shannon through quickly (no bags to check, remember?) and helped her move through the security line (bypassing thousands of spring break travellers). When she got to her gate, a lovely ticket agent offered her, instead, a direct flight to Toronto (no stop in Ottawa) leaving an hour later and arriving an hour earlier. Shannon was thrilled to accept. Air Canada - Love 'em #2. They upgraded her to business class. She landed at 5 p.m., twelve hours after she left that morning.

Since she was coming home for a business opportunity and has obligations to her team in Florida, she was scheduled to stay for only 24 hours before returning to West Palm Beach on her $109.00 ticket. After hearing how stressful her trip home had been, her team leader gave her an extra day before needing her back. She inquired in Fort Lauderdale about a change fee to move Monday's return flight to Tuesday, instead. She was told it would be $130.00 to change, but she'd have to do it online or on the phone. Now, $130 to change a $109 ticket might not be acceptable to you and me, but Shannon was stressed and homesick. But there wasn't time to make the change before getting on her flight.

I tried to help by making the change online. The change fee reported a fare difference of almost $400. In the meantime, she had gone to Shopper's Drug Mart to replace the make-up that had flown as far as Washington, DC and studied for her test for today's meeting. It was almost midnight and she'd had a stressful day. I offered to call Air Canada to make the change over the phone since the on-line thing wasn't working out to $130. After more than an hour-and-a-half on hold with Air Canada, I gave up.

Today, we awoke at 6 a.m. to get ready for the trip downtown. I gave Shannon the news that I was unable to make the $130 change. She was disappointed. We thought we'd try at the airport after her appointment, since she was due to fly out today anyway.

She aced her test and we made our way to the airport. Upon arrival, she got in a very long line to see a ticket agent. In the meantime, I picked up the courtesy phone, which was answered after two rings. I inquired about the fee to change her ticket so she could return tomorrow instead of today. $400. Shannon started to cry, she was so disappointed. She needed that one day of rest and recovery. I think she really wanted her Mom's cooking.

She removed herself from the line and went to check-in to get her boarding pass. After finalizing her paperwork, we decided to inquire about her bag. We were sent to another Air Canada agent at the other end of the terminal. We asked about her luggage and were directed to yet another area. As we walked away, Shannon doubled back and asked about the cost of changing her flight. The agent clicked a few buttons on her computer and told her it would cost $40.

Air Canada - Love 'em #3. The agent made the day a million times better for Shannon today with a change fee of $40.

The same change that I had just 20 minutes earlier asked another agent about? In less than 20 minutes, the fee went from $400 to $40. In less than 24 hours, the fee had gone from $130 to $400 to $40? Nothing else had changed.

Air Canada - sometimes it's hard to love 'em.

Parental Discipline Deficit Disorder

The end of civilization is nearer.

Jim Coyle of the Toronto Star summed it up in this essay, introducing the latest "give it a medical name so everyone has something to blame it on": Parental Discipline Deficit Disorder. Surely, you've seen adults afflicted with this condition: those who have abrogated their responsibility to teach their children the difficult and important lessons in life; those who cater to their children's whims, desires, tantrums; those adults too afraid to say 'no' to the little person who rules their lives.

In his column, Mr. Coyle included a reference to the recent book, "Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank." Oh how I wish I'd been clever enough to think to market that blog rant into a book. I love imagining the author pitching the concept to a publisher.

Courtesy of my sister, Christine, here's the latest, and perhaps lowest (although I'm sure someone somewhere is slithering under this low rung): "Fashion house accused of marketing children as "little sexual beings," grooming them for sexual predators with a T-shirt featuring the slogan "Future Porn Star".

People thought I was nuts when I protested my then-six-year-old niece singing Britney Spears's “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” complete with pole-dancing stripper moves. If only the world had listened....

What kind of call to action is necessary for today’s parents to take charge? Sadly, the majority can’t say no to their children; how will they protest fashion and media sexploitation of children?

Happy Anniversary!

Although we are nearing the 10th Anniversary of the date we met, and it’s now just more than 2 ½ years since we married, this special anniversary celebrates 5 years since my husband and I quit smoking!

Five years smoke-free! Hooray!

That’s somewhere between $22,000 and $25,000 that we have not spent feeding the monster. We’ve saved our bodies the ravages of at least 46,000 cigarettes each – not to mention sparing our families, our cars and our home the stink of 92,000 disgusting butts.

Oh the time we wasted smoking! I can’t remember how often I told my daughter we would do something “right after this cigarette.” As smokers we’d linger, usually a little too long, after dinner. My day couldn’t begin until I had those deep drags off the morning’s first cigarette.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we managed to bank those savings, either in time or money. We were extremely motivated in the early days: each morning we’d put $5 in a box we kept on the dresser, recording our ‘deposits’ in a little notebook kept inside. Last week I peeked in the box. It held four US pennies, a button and the notebook showing six deposits of $5.00 each and six IOUs for the same. (Lju had made the deposits, I had made the withdrawals.)

We may not have the money or the time back, but we are so much richer for having quit. I cannot imagine the many experiences or things we would have done without if we were still buying smokes. In fact, we rationalize some of our purchases by the equivalent number of packs or cartons of cigarettes. For example, my monthly car payment is equal to about 5 cartons, or about what I used to smoke. I guess that’s why I always drove a used car!

Mark This Date on Your Calendar

A very frightening lead headline on the AOL homepage this evening warns:

Asteroid Speeds Toward Earth
U.N. Is Urged to Take Charge
What Are the Odds It Hits Us?

Well, I don't know about you, but that sure got my attention! After all, I saw the movie Armageddon. I remember the fear, panic, potential devastation so narrowly averted by Bruce Willis, Billy Bob Thornton, and a young Ben Affleck.

Call the air force, the National Guard, somebody boil some water! The headline was doing its job -- I had to read this urgent story. I had to know what our government is doing to protect us from this looming doom. I had to know NOW!

Wait! Let me save you some time: Mark the date April 13, 2036 on your calendar. Unless you're over the age of 75, then I’m thinking that you probably don't have to worry about it. In fact, I'm not all that worried about it myself and I'm only (!) 46. It's still 29 years away. An awful lot can happen in 29 years.

Imagine if you had read such a warning in 1979 about a catastrophe due to happen today? Would you have done anything differently in the past 29 years? Called your mother more often? Eaten more chocolate cake? Not quit smoking? Had more sex?

OK, so cancel those calls to the military, maybe even the UN. But keep the water boiling – there's still lots of time for a nice cuppa tea.

Coming Out of the American Idol Closet

I am a secret American Idol fanatic. But I guess by the very nature of blogging, it’s no longer a secret.

I have always enjoyed previous episodes of the show, but I never set my television viewing schedule around it, like I do with House, MD. That’s how it all started. We had set our TIVO – PVR to record House every Tuesday night at 8:00 p.m. Then, Fox changed the schedule and put American Idol in the same timeslot. One lazy afternoon I curled up on the sofa to catch up on House and discovered American Idol in its place. I’ve been hooked ever since.

Now, I don’t love everything about American Idol. I feel physically ill when the judges are childishly and intentionally cruel to some of the contestants. It’s the worst when a contestant truly believes in his/her talents only to find none. It’s difficult to not be judgmental when watching a show dependent on judges, but often it’s easy to identify those who are already marginalized in society before they open their mouths to sing a single note. The judges should be kinder to people’s hopes and dreams.

The thrill of American Idol is seeing true, pure, unbridled talent in its rawest, unspoilt, and unmarketed form. Simon Cowell is a cruel man, but it is wonderfully exciting to watch his face in those first few moments of brilliance. The man is, without question, a tastemaker.

Randy Jackson is likeable enough and seems to wear his heart on his sleeve. I love to watch his eyes as he’s taken aback by the first few notes of a talented singer; as he focuses on the performer’s face, his eyes move strategically to sum up the potential package.

Paula Abdul is a useless judge, yet is critically useful in the group dynamic. She never speaks first, except to ask the others their opinion so that she can decide hers. Ironically, Paula Abdul was at one time a true talent with seemingly unlimited potential. But alas, she is proof that the Peter Principle rules.

I would like to have the same passion for Canadian Idol – and for our hopefuls, I do. Any of our Idols has as much talent as the US winners; unfortunately they lack the same resources (i.e. audience, marketing, budgets). Sadly, the Canadian judges leaving me wanting.

Here you have my American Idol confession. If you were to make a surprise visit to our house on a cold, snowy Sunday in February, you are likely to catch me with tears streaming down my face as another hopeful moves nearer or further from his or her dream of fame and fortune in Hollywood.

Caller ID Bullies

Twice in the last week we received telephone calls from bullies who have seen our telephone number appear on their call display who have then called us to find out what we wanted.

In the first case, my husband had misdialled his parents' phone number -- dialing the last two digits as 11 instead of 15. As soon as he realized the dialling error, he hung up and proceeded to call his parents, dialling correctly, of course. Fifteen minutes after the original error call, our telephone rang. "Why did you call me?," the stranger demanded.

This evening, the telephone rang about 6:15 p.m. "May I speak to Mr. Henderson," an older man asked. "I beg your pardon?" I replied. "Mr. Henderson. He called here today and I want to know why." Huh?

Since when did your telephone number became your private property? I've got news for these Caller ID Bullies -- a telephone number is loaned to you by the telephone company while you are leasing their service. It is not your sole domain. Perhaps you can post a "no tresspassing" sign on your telephone to stop telemarketers from calling, but sometimes it's just a wrong number. Nothing like pointing out another human being's failings by calling them up on a misdialled number. Let's remember that Caller ID generally also reports how many times that number has called your phone. We're not talking stalkers here. It's just a wrong number, thank you very much.

To the Caller ID Bullies: if I wanted to talk to you, Asshole, I would have left a message.

But thanks for calling.

Sentimental? Or Just Plain Mental?

I was looking for something in the basement today. Always happens like that - I start out looking for something and end up spending hours cleaning, organizing, completely distracted from the original task.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but I did come across a tonne of Shannon's childhood memories. No, really, a tonne! She's an only child, remember? There were great pictures, cards, artwork she had made, letters from school, report cards, Brownie badges, certificates from riding classes, swimming classes, drama camp.

I also came across this cartoon I had drawn, entitled "A Day in the Life of Shannon."




Click on the image to enlarge. If you can't read it, it says:

A Day in the Life of Shannon, Volume I. She woke up. Her cat didn't. She ate breakfast and read a book. She even put her dishes in the DW and read a book. She took a shower and read a book. She even read her book while she brushed her teeth! She even read a book while getting dressed and to catch the school bus. At school, all the other kids wanted to play. Shannon read her book instead. When the teacher was teaching math, Shannon would be reading her book. She even read her book while playing volleyball! Her team was happy when she scored 5 points! At lunch, she read her book (of course!). After school, she went shopping with her friends and she read a book!! When she went to the babysitter's, to the doctor's, even when she went to visit her Gramma, Shannon always had her nose in a book. Shannon loved to read! Especially when she went to bed! No matter where Shannon went, she read a book, except...... WHEN SHE WAS RIDING A HORSE! But when she went home agin, she read a book!

Hey, I didn't say it was good.... I just thought it was cute! Especially the pictures of the cat, the drawing of Shannon spiking the volleyball from behind the book, and the plant on the table at "Gramma's" house!

It's Paris Hilton's Fault! No, it's Lindsay Lohan's Fault! No, Wait! It's Britney Spears' Fault!

The Toronto Star today reported:

Sagging underwear hurts bottom line - CHARLOTTE, N.C. — Underwear and hosiery maker Hanesbrands said its profit for the quarter ended Dec. 30 tumbled 78 per cent as the company made its transition to a standalone business and sales of underwear dropped.

Our population is growing. There's a mini baby boom and our bulge of young people in the 18-30 year range is in the prime consuming demographic. Underwear sales should be INCREASING not decreasing.

The only logical reason sales are down? The skanks of Hollywood have undertaken recently to going bottomless. This must be the start of a horrible, unsanitary new trend. Never mind beware of sitting on toilet seats. Beware of sitting, um, anywhere.

Yuck.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner Pt I & II

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner Part I - Guest post today courtesy of my parents:

Thursday night, we were finishing dinner... Minta and her daughter Laurie were here....... when the doorbell rang. A girl asked if she could use our phone.... that she was staying across the road from us....and had had her purse stolen..... with all her ID and credit cards gone.... and wanted to call her mother who was out-of-town. I let her in and helped her make the call using our long distance code. She made a couple of calls...... and some small talk... how even if her mother sent money, she had no ID.... and she just needed a little money to get back home. She left.....and a couple minutes later came back to call a local friend...... to no avail. As smart and compassionate that we are..... we knew that we had to do something to help this girl....... so we fixed her a plate of meatloaf and salad to take with her..... since it would probably take her a few days to get home....... at least she wouldn't go hungry.

After she left, Laurie said....this is a scam......... Well guess what.... THIS WAS A SCAM......

The girl that we came to know as Allison.....had been to two other homes here.... with the same story. The police came and said somebody matching this description had been working the area the night before.

Now we are quite concerned....... Will she return our dishes?....... Did she enjoy the meatloaf?


Guess Who's Coming to Dinner Part II - I am planning a family get-together. In this day and age, in order to get all of our family together in one place you have to book far in advance. I sent out an email earlier this week with the subject line "Family Day," inviting everyone to join us Sunday, February 25 anytime after 3 p.m. for fun and games followed by dinner. I asked, "Call only if you're not coming."

This afternoon, shortly after 3 p.m. the door bell rang. I tried to guess who it might be on this cold, snowy winter day since we weren't anticipating any visitors. I was pleasantly surprised to see four members of my family standing on our front step! They came in like we had been expecting them, taking off their coats and settling in. I started panicking inside; Oh my God! Had I invited them for dinner and then forgotten they were coming? I had seen them recently, spoken with them more recently than that, I had been thinking about inviting them over, so I guess maybe I had and then forgot! I didn't have anything planned for dinner yet, but hey, it's family, we can all whip something up, ya know?

"Where's everyone else?" I was asked. The goofy look on my face must have been the first clue. "Family Day," I was reminded. Evidently, they had been looking forward to it all week.

"Um, Family Day is next month," I said...."But you are ALWAYS WELCOME HERE, so we'll make today Family Day."

We ordered in Chinese food and had lots of fun and laughs. And we've promised to do it all again next month!

Please read the comments to enjoy the continuing story.....

Who Gave this Iguana Viagra?

How could you report this story with a straight face? And why would you name an iguana Mozart? Forgive me Don Campbell, but this gives a whole new meaning to "the Mozart Effect".

Me as Movie Critic

Since the words "random" and "rapid-fire" appear recently to be trademarked, I am pleased to present the quick and useless ramblings of my brain:

Me as movie critic: This is the first year of my life that I have actually seen many of the movies topping the big categories at the 2007 Academy Awards. In this day and age that makes me fully qualified to comment on the recent nominations for Best Picture. I loved Little Miss Sunshine - it's a quirky little charmer from left field, but it is not even in the same league, same category, same anything as DreamGirls, which is a bright, powerful, magnificent film that was tragically overlooked by the nominating committee. There is no question in my opinion, on any level -- story, dancing, singing, production values, star talent and supporting talent -- DreamGirls outshines Chicago which won for Best Picture in 2003.

You've Got Mail! It is far easier to comment on blogs than it is to write one!

That Damned Cat!

On Wednesday, shortly after noon and just before having lunch, I let our cat, Chia, outside for a little exercise. Chia was born in a barn and lived most of her life in the country -- she's definitely an outside cat. In fact, she rarely uses a litter
box in the house; instead she will cry at the door until you let her out. If you won't come to the door, she'll start to follow you around the house, yelling at you to let her out.

Unlike our other cat, Blossom (God rest her soul in cat heaven), Chia has a gentle personality. She loves to be petted, she "talks" to you all the time ("Do you want to go outside?" "Me-ow" "Do you want to eat?" "ME-ow" "Where have you been?" "Me-OW") She has a fun collection of toys and likes to play "monkey in the middle." In the summertime, she'll play "fetch" outside with a stick. It's the funniest thing to watch this little cat dragging a stick behind her after I've thrown it. When Shannon is away (like she is now), Chia sleeps cuddled around the top of Lju's head in bed with us. When you call her name, she comes running, sometimes as if she'd been shot out of a cannon. Doesn't matter if she had been in the deepest sleep - if we need to know where she is, she'll let us know she's there.

After I let Chia outside on Wednesday, I ate lunch and then took a nap on the sofa in the family room. Usually, when Chia wants to be let back into the house, she appears at the sliding glass door near the family room and meows 'til we let her in. She wasn't there when I got up from my nap.

I did a few things around the house, upstairs, downstairs, every time I walked past either the front door or the back door, I opened it and called for Chia. She never came. Made dinner, no cat. Lju came home as I was getting ready to go out for the evening - no Chia. He followed her footsteps from in front of our house down past the neighbour's garage, but it was too cold and dark to go looking for her.

It was late by the time I got home -- Chia still had not come home.

Now, you may recall that Wednesday was extremely cold (by this winter's standards). The temperature was forecasted to be -12 and Chia was outside, alone, and had been for almost 12 hours.

I tried to go to sleep -- but I was too upset. With the help of an extra strong dose of sleeping pills, I settled down to sleep. I woke up an hour later, having dreamt that Chia was at the kitchen door waiting to come in. I got up and paced back and forth between the front door and the back door, turning on the lights, opening the door and calling her name. Eventually I fell back asleep, only to wake again a few hours later. This time I dreamt she had frozen to death. Again I went downstairs, opening both doors, calling.

Thursday morning and she still hadn't come home. I worried that she had frozen to death somewhere in the neighbourhood. Or been attacked by an animal and unable to make it home. I asked my husband to take a different route to work, to make sure she hadn't been hit by a car and left on the side of the road to die. On a hopeful note, I told myself that perhaps a well-intentioned neighbour had brought her into their home for the night. Knowing that cat, she'd be at their front door first thing in the morning, crying to get outside. I waited for her to appear. I practically wore a path with my pacing between the two doors.

Now, I am usually the first one to laugh at people who anthropomorphize their pets. I love animals and once seriously wanted to be a veterinarian, but to me animal lives do not have the same value as human lives. Animals are not a substitute for humans; your puppy is NOT the same as a child and should not be treated as such. I would never spend thousands of dollars for chemotherapy treatment for a dog with cancer, even if the dog had saved my own child's life. My vet accused me of being an unfit pet owner because I would not fork over $600 to have our cats' teeth cleaned.


Chia is a symbolic cat. She was one of Lju's first gifts to Shannon when he and I first started dating almost ten years ago. She was the first thing that brought the two of them together (when she was 14, she's now 24!). Chia represented the common love that united the three of us together. When we first got her, she was small enough to fit easily into the palm of Lju's one hand. Shannon loved her first cat, Blossom, in a special way, but Blossom had a unique and well-established bitchy cat personality. Chia was all love, cuddles, kindness. Shannon loves Chia more than she ever loved Blossom because Chia returns that love.

How would I -- how COULD I -- tell Shannon that Chia was missing? The last time Shannon went away, her cat died. What kind of irresponsible mother was I? Leave me alone for a few days with a cat and look out cat!

Even though I pretended like I wasn't all that fond of her, secretly I love her and all she represents.

I spent all day Thursday calling the Human Society, Animal Control, posting her picture and description on Lost Cat websites. I made up a poster with her picture on it, printed 60 copies and went out in the -10 weather to distribute them door-to-door on our street. I taped Lost Cat notices on all the mail boxes, hyrdo boxes, lamp standards. I made sure that, coming or going, walking or driving, you'd see our Lost Cat sign. One neighbour came out after finding the notice on her door. "I see your little cat all the time," she said. "She likes to snoop around between our houses and sometimes I see her running from across the street. I'll call you if I see her. Good luck," she said.

Another neighbour was not as nice. After I taped the notice to the window of her front door, she made a big scene about coming out, tearing it off and ripping it to shreds. "I don't care" she yelled at me. I was in front of the house next to hers, taping notices to the lamp standard. I continued on my way and when I came past her house again, I saw that she had ripped the notices from the lamp standard, torn them up and thrown them into the snow. "I'm looking for my cat," I said. The neighbour looks like an old Italian widow, always dressed in black. "Gata mia," I said. "Why you asking me anything?" she barked at me. What I said next wasn't very neighbourly.

I posted 57 of the 60 notices within a two block area of our house (the old bubba tore down 2 and I ran out of tape after posting 59). I went home and waited for the phone to ring.

I paced back and forth constantly between the doors. I thought about what I would tell Shannon. Last night when I had spoken with her from Florida, she was all happy and excited and luckily, didn't ask about her cat. I knew tonight if she called, I'd have to tell her the news. It did not look promising.

I tried to take my mind off it, but it didn't work. Lju was trying to be strong, but I think he loves that cat even more than I do. He was preparing me for the worst. By this time, she had been lost in the cold for more than 33 hours.

I stood up and yelled to the universe that I wanted that damned cat to come home. Lju answered that if she wanted to come home, she would. I snapped back that if she COULD come home, she would. We settled on the fact that it was in God's hands.

He got up to make a telephone call. Again, I went to the front door and opened it. THERE SHE WAS!!!!!!!!!!!! COMING UP THE FRONT WALK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She was moving a little slowly, it was icy, but she looked fine! Her fur and her paws were not all that cold or wet.

I screamed from the front door, "Chia! You're home! Come here, girl! Come here! Where have you BEEN?" Lju screamed from the family room where he was waiting for his friend to answer the phone. "Don't do that," he yelled. "Don't play games like that!" "She's really here!" I called back. He couldn't come or see from where he was on the phone. He stretched around the corner, pulling the phone away from his ear, just as his friend answered. "Oh my God! She is home!" he yelled into his friend's ear.

I was almost hysterical. The fear, stress, guilt I had been carrying all day flooded over me. I would NOT have to give Shannon the bad news. No, in fact, this was a happy news story.

Today, I shall go and collect all the Lost Cat notices from the neighbourhood. I'm pretty sure that she'd been taken in by a well-intentioned neighbour who then saw the Lost Cat sign and knew we must be missing her.

Chia was pretty happy to be home. She wanted lots of love and attention. Of course, she slept last night wrapped around Lju's head. Oh, how I wish she could talk - I'd love to know where she had been those 33 hours she'd been gone in the dead of winter.

We've let Chia know that she's grounded. She's not going outside for a long, long time.

Serbian Christmas Eve

It's Badnja Vece (Serbian Christmas Eve) and tonight our choir sang in full force, during mass and outside during the traditional burning of the Badnjak (pronounced Bad-nyak). During Badnja Vece, the entire congregation leaves the church during mass to follow the priest outside to walk around the church three times before burning last year's Badnjak (oak tree, almost like a yule log). (Remember, the oak tree was the precursor to our now traditional evergreen Christmas tree.) The sparks that fly into the air from the burning Badnjak represent all the babies to be born in the coming year.

The choir followed the priest during the first circle of the church, then took our places on the church steps to sing a tribute to the Badnjak. It's a joyful hymn called Oj Badnjace (pronounced Oy Bad-nyach-eh, almost meaning Oh Glorious Oak Tree). OK, so we don't sound so great at the beginning, but (if you can stand it) from about 1:53, we sound much better!

After the burning of the Badnjak, the people return to the church for the continuation of the mass and more singing. After mass is over, everyone lines up to collect a piece of this year's Badnjak, tied with red, blue and white ribbons. There are treat bags filled with chocolates for the children. Every family greets the priest, then takes a piece of Badnjak home. It is traditional to remove last year's Badnjak before bringing in the new... Every year, our Badnjak sits above the frame of the Last Supper needlepoint that my mother-in-law crafted oh-so-many-years-ago, just above the entry to our home.

The Empress is a Mermaid

According to the latest on-line test, I am a Mermaid, also known as a Siren. These creatures were beautiful women who tricked sailors into becoming completely entranced by their haunting voices and found death soon after. Not all stories of Mermaids are about gentle loving sea people. They are mystical, magical, and extremely dangerous. They have a way about them that brings anyone they are around to seem enchanted. They are very mysterious creatures and to meet one... would mean certain death.

My fortune guides me: "Let the song of the sea fill your soul, for you are a Mermaid."

You can take the test, too. What Mythological Creature are you?

With thanks to Dorothy for this link.

Ashley....the Christmas Angel

Today's guest-post courtesy of my cousin Kimberley, in her end-of-year-sending-Christmas-love message:

While contemplating whether or not I could afford to send out Christmas cards this year, my daughter helped me make the decision to NOT send out Christmas cards.

Here is WHY: She asked me one day, about a week ago, if she could cut her hair short. Very short. And guess where all of her hair went? It is being donated to "Locks of Love", an organization that makes wigs for children who suffer from the ill-effects of radiation and have lost their hair, (or some other terminal illness which has resulted in hair loss).

So, off we went, Christmas Card Budget= Re-Routed to Hair Salon for a good cause.....And that, my friends and how this loved one is helpin' to "Kick Cancer A**"!! (Or at least to look and feel better when you've lost your hair. Only a few women in the world look beautiful when they are bald; like my cousin Roni.....exceptional!)

What a wonderful and generous gift from a child to another.... We could all learn an important lesson from young Ashley.....

It is Destiny... I AM the Empress of the Universe

My sister, Roni, sent me this link: "What Tarot Card are You?" Roni is the Moon card. The Moon is a creative sign, but with this warning: "You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial." How would it know she's going through cancer therapy?

I took the test, answering 20 or so questions. And this is what came up:


You are The Empress
Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents, beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

OK, so now that it's official, was there ever really any doubt?

The CIA has a Website!

While researching United States population statistics at www.ask.com for my last blog post, I discovered that the CIA has a website. Yes, the Central Intelligence Agency.

When my search results appeared, I clicked on the top link without checking to see who hosted the site. I suppose at first I thought I landed at the World Book Encyclopedia. Then I saw the url: www.cia.gov.

I'm pretty sure this is not a spoof site since it's a .gov domain (you must be a government agency to register a .gov address).

What does the CIA need a website for? Marketing and public relations? Wouldn't you think if you were working for the CIA and needed intelligence that you would visit a secret, secure website and not a publicly accessible www domain?

The main page of the site includes these fascinating navigation options: "The Factbook on Intelligence" - "Speeches and Testimony" - "Current Recruiting Ad" - and so much more, plus an entire section on the CIA for kids. Honest! I am not making that up! I can barely read this with a straight face: "National Clandestine Recruiting Services - You Can Make A World of Difference!"

Oh, how I wish I could read Arabic -- there's a link from the home page titled "Iraqi Rewards Program" but the text is entirely in Arabic. What kind of "Rewards Program" is this? How do I sign up? What kind of freebies can I get with my points? I've been wanting one of those robot floor vacuums, I wonder how many Iraqi Rewards Points I need! Or maybe only Iraqi's can earn Iraqi Reward Points? Like 100 points for every litre of oil?

Then it occurred to me.... what if it's really a decoy site, filled with misinformation to throw off foreign spies and potential terrorists? What if they lied about the land mass of the United States, its climate, key industries and infant mortality rates in order to deke out their enemies?

Hey, wait. There's a careers section here. Ooops, gotta run. I'm going to take the CIA Personality Quiz to see if I'm suited for a life running through dark alleys, wearing fabulous disguises and sipping champagne on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Wait! I just read the fine print, which probably now excludes me from any career considerations:

"Important Notice: You are interested in a position as an overt employee---which means you can acknowledge your affiliation with the Central Intelligence Agency. But should you? There may be friends, family, individuals or organizations who would be very interested to learn that you are an applicant for or an employee of the CIA. Their interest, however, may not be benign or in your best interest. You cannot control who they would tell. We therefore ask you to exercise discretion and good judgment in disclosing your interest in a position with the Agency.

I guess I just got myself crossed off the hire list!

Someone has to think about these things....that must be MY job!

I haven't been feeling well the last couple of weeks, hence my absence. But this topic inspired me out of my stupor...

The December 4th edition of Time magazine featured a cover story entitled Why We Worry About The Things We Shouldn't... ...And Ignore The Things We Should. Click here to read the full story. In effect, the article is about risk assessment, as opposed to risk management. Turns out there are real, prehistoric, physiological symptoms that alert us to risk and help us assess its potential. I love this section in particular:

"Which risks get excessive attention and which get overlooked depends on a hierarchy of factors. Perhaps the most important is dread. For most creatures, all death is created pretty much equal. Whether you're eaten by a lion or drowned in a river, your time on the savanna is over. That's not the way humans see things. The more pain or suffering something causes, the more we tend to fear it; the cleaner or at least quicker the death, the less it troubles us. "We dread anything that poses a greater risk for cancer more than the things that injure us in a traditional way, like an auto crash," says Slovic. "That's the dread factor." In other words, the more we dread, the more anxious we get, and the more anxious we get, the less precisely we calculate the odds of the thing actually happening. "It's called probability neglect," says Cass Sunstein, a University of Chicago professor of law specializing in risk regulation.

The same is true for, say, AIDS, which takes you slowly, compared with a heart attack, which can kill you in seconds, despite the fact that heart disease claims nearly 50 times as many Americans than AIDS each year. We also dread catastrophic risks, those that cause the deaths of a lot of people in a single stroke, as opposed to those that kill in a chronic, distributed way."

I love the idea of a "science of risk." Almost wish I'd thought of that myself. In fact, they even have names for the process of risk analysis - like "habituation" (ie. to grow accustomed to certain risks, thereby becoming desensitized to the reality of the risk) or "optimism bias" ("the convenient belief that risks that apply to other people don't apply to us").

I found the article fascinating and stored it away in this overstimulated brain of mine.

Until today when I read an alarming headline on AOL.com: "BEWARE: 13 Foods That Kill". Doesn't that sound frightening? At first, you'd think the two stories were completely unrelated, right? Bite into this:

"According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), about 76 million Americans will suffer from food-borne illness, and at least 5,000 will die this year. Children, the elderly and those with compromised immune systems are at the greatest risk."

The short list? 1. Lettuce. 2. Water. 3. Raw sprouts. 4. Unpasteurized milk, juice, cheese. 5. Moldy peanuts. 6. Raw or undercooked shellfish. 7. Shark, swordfish, mackerel, tilefish. 8. Caesar salad. 9. Wild mushrooms. 10. Raw cookie dough. 11. Rare hamburger. 12. Turkey and stuffing. 13. Shakes and eggs.

Click here to read the entire story. I do recommend it.

Now I've had severe food poisoning (hospitalized on IV and everything) and it is NOT a pretty thing. I would wish it on no one. The intro to the story says that the CDC predicts at least 5,000 people will die each year from these everyday food dangers. Look out!

But wait, the principal source for the Time magazine story was the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), too. According to the Time story, here's the breakdown of American deaths:

TOTAL ANNUAL DEATHS 2.5 MILLION

Homicide 17,732

Suicide 31,484

Accidents 109,277

Other diseases 681,150

Diabetes 74,219

Chronic lower-respiratory disease 126,382

Stroke 157,689

Cancer 556,902

Heart disease 685,089

All other deaths 8,364

Diseases account for 2.3 million deaths a year, or about 92% of all deaths. "All other deaths" total 8,364 -- which, I guess, includes the 5,000 people who will die from eating those 13 deadly foods. According to the CIA website (Huh? Spies have a public website? Really -- I'm killing myself laughing, there's a subject for another post!) -- According to the CIA, the population of the United States is 298,444,215 souls. If I'm doing the math correctly, 2,500,000 people die each year, so that's less than a 1% risk or, statistically, a 1 in 119 random chance (not factoring for age/risk assessment) of dying in the next 12 months. If that person does die, s/he has a 92% chance of dying of disease - and a 2/100th of a percent chance of dying of food poisoning. Or, another way of looking at it: you have a 1 in 119 random chance of dying in the next year, you have a 1 in 60,000 chance of dying of food poisoning.

Compare that to the chances of dying in a car accident: 1 in 6,000.

Back to the Time story:

Officials are fond of reassuring the public that they run a greater risk from, for example, drowning in the bathtub, which kills 320 Americans a year, than from a new peril like mad cow disease, which has so far killed no one in the U.S. That's pretty reassuring--and very misleading. The fact is that anyone over 6 and under 80--which is to say, the overwhelming majority of the U.S. population--faces almost no risk of perishing in the tub. For most of us, the apples of drowning and the oranges of mad cow disease don't line up in any useful way.

But such statistical straw men get trotted out all the time. People defending the safety of pesticides and other toxins often argue that you stand a greater risk of being hit by a falling airplane (about 1 in 250,000 over the course of your entire life) than you do of being harmed by this or that contaminant. If you live near an airport, however, the risk of getting beaned is about 1 in 10,000. Two very different probabilities are being conflated into one flawed forecast. "My favorite is the one that says you stand a greater risk from dying while skydiving than you do from some pesticide," says Susan Egan Keane of the Natural Resources Defense Council. "Well, I don't skydive, so my risk is zero."

I think I'll continue living dangerously -- taking my chances eating lettuce, turkey dressing, seafood, hamburger and still drinking the water. But then again, I'm lucky I don't live near an airport!

Discrimination?

I just read this tragic story from www.thestar.com:

KIHEI, Hawaii (AP) — A shark attacked a Canadian man swimming off a Maui beach, injuring his leg and hand, authorities said.

I have just one question: How did the shark know the swimmer was Canadian? What does the shark have against Canadians? Why didn't he attack a Frenchman or an Englishman or even, a fellow American. (I say "fellow American" because the shark was from Hawaii.)

(OK, I guess that makes 3 questions, but you get my drift....)

Remembrance Day 2006

Today, Remembrance Day 2006, at 11:00 a.m., my husband and I were in the car on our way to Oakville when we heard on the radio the beginning of the Remembrance Day ceremonies at the Cenotaph at City Hall, Toronto. My wonderful husband pulled his car over to the side of the road where we both sat, silently reflecting upon the great sacrifices made by men and women in the name of freedom. In particular, we were honouring our own family members:

Ljuban's grandfather, Jandre Orescanin, served as a partisan in Yugoslavia during WWII. The partisans were neither loyalists or Communists and fought against Hitler and his allies. During the war, Dedo Orescanin lost an eye to a shrapnel wound.

My mother's father, Diego, served as a very young man for Italy in WWI. I don't know much about Grampa's years in service, but I do know that his army portrait hangs proudly above the piano in my parents' home.

My father's father, Joseph Summers Sr., served the US Army during WWII. Grampa Summers also suffered shrapnel wounds and was awarded the Purple Heart. Unfortunately, all of his medals were stolen and sold. Every once in a while I check to see if they're being offered on Ebay.

I am so very proud of my husband for showing this sign of respect, for those we love and the millions that others have loved and lost during many years of war. Of course, at least 75 cars flew past us while we sat honouring our veterans this Remembrance Day 2006.

Flashback Friday

My mother and I went to a wonderful party tonight in honour of Walter and Mae Haass's 50th wedding anniversary. The couple, 30+ year neighbours of my parents, looked absolutely dashing. Four of their five children, including their spouses and next generation children were there, all looking beautiful, proud, strong, healthy. As Mae said, "They clean up nicely, don't they?"

When Walter was a boy, his parents bought the old farmhouse that is now my parents' home. Walter tells stories about raising chickens upstairs in the back bedrooms during the winter. He helped his father pour the concrete veranda on the side of the house way back in 1959 (I think). I'm not much of an historian, but when Walter and his two brothers were ready to start their families, the boys built three 1960's style bungalows on the same hill. Eventually Walter and Mae moved into the farthest home from the homestead, his brother Henry and his bride Betty moved across the street. Perhaps son Herman was the rebel -- I think he moved to Bowmanville (about 15 km away!). My brother, Joe, learned welding from Herman during the 1980's. The senior Haass's, Herman and Louisa, moved from the big farmhouse to the third bungalow.

The party was a wonderful, formal affair -- but it seemed almost like my high school reunion! In addition to reuniting with the Haass "kids" (uh, middle-aged adults?), I saw brothers Paul and Dennis Sobil (and met their wives), Leo Cormier and his wife, Debbie (Geissburger) Cormier, Percy Beech (and his wife, who, it turns out has been friends with my sister-in-law for years!) and brothers Garry and Gordie Geissburger (and wife). I thought the "My Gosh, You Haven't Changed A Bit" award would be presented to Gordie Geissburger, who still looks 14 years old except with a goatee, until Gordie pointed to Garry across the room. After a wonderful reunion, Garry got out on the dance floor and then came the flashback: it was like our Grade 8 graduation all over again.

The "How'd You Get So Good Looking, You Were Just a Goofy Little Kid" prize goes to Dennis Sobil. The "No Way, You Can't Be Marla Haass" award should be presented to.... Ms. Marla Haass, who has developed into a stunning beauty. Of course, the last time I saw her, I think she was six. And the "Drop Dead Gorgeous" prize should be presented to Karen Haass, another breathtaking beauty. That German blood has been very good to those girls! (Girls! Ha! They're both past 35!)

Because my brother Joe and I are six years apart, everyone we met from the old "neighbourhood" fell somewhere between our ages. I think Joe will agree with me, we sure had lots of fun!

Congratulations Walter and Mae Haass on 50 years of wedded bliss. And thank you for letting us share in your celebration!

My New Canvas - Roni's Bald Head

Instead of letting her hair fall out in horrible chemotherapy-induced clumps, my sister Roni boldly shaved her head. Since people would be staring anyway, Roni asked if I would paint a henna tattoo on her scalp. This way, it would give everyone something to look at -- and, I suspect, is a way of tackling this cancer thing head on, so to speak.

Without the henna Roni is absolutely beautiful. Now, she's wearing a magnificent piece of original art upon that pristine pate. These photos were taken with the henna paste drying on her scalp. Tomorrow she'll wash off the "paint" and the henna tattoo will remain. If we're lucky, it will be a rich, dark stain that will last 2-3 weeks.

Of course, I signed this masterpiece -- if you look closely, you'll see the copyright notice just behind her left ear (ha ha, just kidding!). In total, the design took almost four hours. What do you think?

Christine Lee Update

Thanks to you the Toronto Star has received a number of letters in reply to the story about Christine.

Click here to see a sampling of letters published on www.thestar.com.

We are attempting to bring her tragic story to a larger audience. If you have contacts at any of the major television or radio media in Ontario, please feel free to share Christine's story with them.

Thank you and God bless.

Random Thoughts from My Hyperactive Mind

Not in any order at all:

Roni is stunningly beautiful bald. Her big blue eyes have always been striking, but now, it's almost as if that's the first thing you see. It was a bold and courageous decision to shave her head before all of her hair could fall out on its own. As she said, "It's not my fault I have cancer." Bravo Sister! Besides, hair is definitely over-rated.

I'm a Soprano. Not the Tony Soprano kind of Soprano, a REAL soprano! I've joined the St. Arsenije Sremec Serbian Orthodox Church Choir. I've been to two practises now -- and just like EVERYTHING in my life, I do it all or not at all. It's definitely one of the harder things I've tried -- first you have to read music, find the note, read over the Cyrillic line to the Latin alphabet translation, figure out how to pronounce the foreign word, then sing the note, holding it for the right length -- quickly moving to the next note, repeat from the beginning, all the while keeping up with much more experienced singers. Everyone has been so very kind and patient -- and impressed, too. After one week, I could sing the Liturgia from heart, off book and stay in tune! (I found a few great sites online where I could download the music, burned a CD and have been immersing myself in sacred Serbian music during my long drives to Belleville.) I am getting much faster at reading Cyrillic, too. For example: my name:

МИШЕЛ

Think that’s easy? Try reading this and singing!



At the end of this week’s choir practice, Ana, the “assistant director,” said, “Michelle, I’m really glad that you’ve joined our choir.”

I’ve already amazed my husband – I can’t wait to sing for my mother-in-law! (Lest you think my head will get too big, fear not. As one of my sisters said, "You? A soprano?")

I'm quite worried about my hearing. Did you know that most of the time I watch TV with the closed captioning on? If you're talking to me and turn your head, I probably can't hear what you just said (I spend a lot of time lip reading.) Last night I walked into the bedroom while my husband was watching Sportsnet. I couldn't see the picture, but heard only a commentator wrapping up his interview with a baseball player in this world series. This is what I heard: "Good luck then and enjoy gay sex." What the commentator really said was "Good luck then and enjoy game six."

I've been meaning to write about the new TV show "The Class." It's not often, OK, maybe never in my life, have I raved about a TV show, working my schedule around TIVO'ing a program, but The Class is absolutely hilarious. It's on Monday nights on CTV. It's an hilarious premise for a show to begin with (a grade 3 class reunion), but the situations just keep getting more believably hysterical. (Producers of The Class, please send a cheque to the address below.) If you're a fan, please write!

I am procrastinating. I don't know why. The things I'm putting off are not painful. I just don't WANT to do them. In the meantime, I am obsessing on the ridiculous. What is wrong with me?

I've started a new painting. It's my second "angry" work; in this case, an expression of my rage at the challenges being faced by my sisters Christine and Roni. I hope someday, long after my death, some art scholar will know the real meaning behind every layer and object in this still life (after someone buys the painting at a yard sale, I'm sure!). I don't even LIKE painting still life, but I guess you could say I've been painting "furiously."

For the record, my brother Joe did NOT forget his lunch. I made it up because I thought it would be funny. What I didn't know at the time was that I would pee my pants laughing at what would happen next. Joe, you're such a good sport, I love you!

Additional random thought that occurred to me today (Friday, October 20): Why is the 'ch' in chemotherapy and chiropractor pronounced like a 'k'? The 'Ch' in Chicago is pronounced like 'Sh,' while the 'ch' in chortle and chop is pronounced, as you would expect, like 'ch' is supposed to sound. And we complain that immigrants don't speak English -- is it any wonder?

Today is My Birthday

Listen to this wonderful birthday greeting.....featuring the lovely and talented Miss Ashlee, age 4. Click the image to play. Make sure your speakers are on -- and listen right 'til the end....it's the best part!

My Sister's Story - from www.thestar.com

Starved of cure by red tape
Woman pleads for effective, less costly stomach pacemaker
Oct. 13, 2006. 06:14 AM
JANICE MAWHINNEY
LIFE WRITER


Christine Lee has an illness that has prevented her from eating or drinking anything for years.

The Oakville mother, 39, lives with gastroparesis. That means her stomach will not empty itself for the next stage of digestion, causing daily nausea and vomiting.

She stays alive by spending hours every day and night taking her nutrition, water and medication intravenously. It takes 10 hours a day for nutritional liquids, four additional hours to keep her hydrated and more time, depending on circumstances, for medication.

"I feel sick all day every day," she says. "I just want to feel better."

There is a device that would allow Lee to live a normal and happier life at a considerably lower cost to taxpayers than her current routine. It's a pacemaker which, implanted in her body, would regulate her stomach, moving food and liquid out normally.

She knows it works because she had one implanted in 1996 as part of an experimental program. It had to be removed due to complications from an unrelated surgery.

But her pleas to the bureaucracy at the province's health ministry for a replacement have so far fallen on deaf ears.

Her husband, John, and their two children, Andrew, 16, and Jessica, 15, also find their daily lives profoundly affected by Lee's medical condition.

Click here to download the complete story.....

If you'd like to support Christine in her efforts to have the gastro pacemaker approved, please send your comments via email to health@thestar.ca

Give This Headline Writer a Bonus, Please!

Fortune teller didn't see arrest coming
Oct. 5, 2006. 10:59 AM
ASSOCIATED PRESS


CENTRAL NYACK, N.Y.— A tip for fortune tellers: When reading a customer's aura, be alert for any hint of blue.

An undercover police officer posing as a patron busted a Rockland County psychic who charged more than $1,000 for a series of tarot card readings, according to Clarkstown town police. Dorothy Adams, 40, of Nyack, operated her Psychic and Tarot Cards Readings out of a storefront on Route 59.

Adams was accused of stringing the undercover officer along for two weeks, charging more than $1,000 for advice on ways to reverse her negative aura and dispel her bad luck. Adams, who was arrested Tuesday night, was charged with grand larceny, a felony, and two misdemeanors, police said.

The investigation began after town police received complaints about Adams' business. State law requires that all readings be done for entertainment or amusement purposes only, with only a small fee attached.

Don't Drink the Belleville Water

I received the following update from my sister Roni yesterday. It's so powerfully written, I asked if she'd mind being my "guest blogger" today. She's agreed, so I'm taking today off! Roni wrote:

"So, I'm like 7 days out of chemo. You already know that.

Aside from some mouth sores, and being very tired yesterday, I feel okay. I walked to the Habitat For Humanity Store - maybe 3/4 km. away and back. I was pleased with myself.

The strange part however was that I was the last person to use the bathtub yesterday...and when I got out, all I did was let the water drain. Last night I asked (my daughter) Makenzie if she wanted me to make her a bath (cuz she came home from rugby with proof that she does everything with zeal.) I go into the bathroom, pull back the shower curtain and go to rinse the tub when lo and behold, I see whole chunks of short grey and black hair. I immediately call Makenzie in and she immediately starts to rub my back - saying, WOW! Mom, that's weird. I say, do you think that's me? (Our cat) Sam was in the tub y'know....and he has short grey hair too y'know.

Unfortunately, she was convinced it was me which was really freaky. So I finished rinsing the tub and watched my hair slide down the drain. But that's not the really weird thing. The really weird thing was that as I watched my hair slip into the drain, I actually thought to myself, there goes the cancer.

Then in occurred to me that since all that cancer goes into our sewer system, I should steer clear of the Belleville water.

Freaky, eh?

Today the hair on my scalp hurts - almost as if I have a migraine under my skin and I can feel the hair letting go. I slept in a doo rag and checked it and it was almost as if I had gotten a haircut in my sleep - perfectly even strands, all the same width and length. So now I'm thinking I'm on a bad acid trip or something and pretty soon the shiny lights are going to get me. (Wait, that might be the radiation - I go for the consult October 17th in Kingston.)

So it also occurs to me, did my brothers feel this way when they lost their hair?

Curious.

R

The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms

I am grateful and proud of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

My husband had a court date today for a driving offence. To say that he was nervous is a serious understatement. For at least the past six months, not a day has gone by that he hasn't thought about this day looming before him. But that's understandable -- he's never been in court for anything, not even a parking ticket. And, of course, nothing quite makes you feel like a criminal than having to enter a court building.

It's amazing to me that people complain about our courts and our police. After an afternoon people-watching at the courthouse in downtown Toronto today, I am convinced those complainers are the same ones who appear before the judge in ripped jeans, belly piercings exposed, sideways baseball caps, unshaven, leather jackets, designer bball-shoes, laces trailing behind. We're not talking about the poor, disadvantaged or underprivileged here. I stood outside the courthouse for some time watching the traffic come and go. We're talking about the hip hop boys who pull up in the low-riding Acuras with the bass blaring so loud there are sonic booms in their wake. Or the hair-flipping "Ginas" who show up with their girly-girl entourages driving Daddy's BMW.

Hubby's driving offence took place on June 1, 2005. His agent, an articling 20-something law student working for X-Copper, made an application before the court under the Charter that guarantees all Canadians the right to due process within a reasonable time of the original offence. In the case of traffic violations, that reasonable timeframe has been deemed to be eight-to-ten months, allowing for court back-logs and delays. It has been over 16 months since the original charge was laid. In fact, it inspired me to read the Charter in its entirety and there it is, right near the top:

Schedule B

Constitution Act, 1982
Enacted as Schedule B to the Canada Act 1982 (U.K.) 1982, c. 11, which came into force on April 17, 1982


PART I

Canadian charter of rights and freedoms

Section 11 reads:

11. Any person charged with an offence has the right

a) to be informed without unreasonable delay of the specific offence;
b) to be tried within a reasonable time;
c) not to be compelled to be a witness in proceedings against that person in respect of the offence;
d) to be presumed innocent until proven guilty according to law in a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal;
e) not to be denied reasonable bail without just cause;
f) except in the case of an offence under military law tried before a military tribunal, to the benefit of trial by jury where the maximum punishment for the offence is imprisonment for five years or a more severe punishment;
g) not to be found guilty on account of any act or omission unless, at the time of the act or omission, it constituted an offence under Canadian or international law or was criminal according to the general principles of law recognized by the community of nations;
h) if finally acquitted of the offence, not to be tried for it again and, if finally found guilty and punished for the offence, not to be tried or punished for it again; and
i) if found guilty of the offence and if the punishment for the offence has been varied between the time of commission and the time of sentencing, to the benefit of the lesser punishment.

After checking a few legal points (did the justice of the peace have jurisdiction to rule on this application? yes.), "Your Worship" asked the Crown Attorney to comment on this delay (I have no reply, Your Worship.) The charge was dismissed.

I am quite proud of this Charter. The preamble states:

Whereas Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God and the rule of law:

and Section 1 guarantees:

1. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees the rights and freedoms set out in it subject only to such reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.

I am also grateful that we did not have to invoke Section 12:

12. Everyone has the right not to be subjected to any cruel and unusual treatment or punishment.

and, of course, it was not necessary use the "notwithstanding clause."

A Middle Aged Dinner Party

My husband and I hosted a dinner party this evening. There were six of us in all, couples ranging in age from 42 - 55. We enjoyed cocktails before dinner, a lovely BBQ, dessert and coffee. The conversation was lively and interesting and filled with laughter.

A few hours after dessert, the conversation turned -- as it always will with the 40+ crowd -- to the subject of health. One guy has a bad knee (gout), three people are diabetic, two have intestinal problems, one is hyperthyroid -- the list of ailments was long and each of us had a story to share.

Eventually, we began talking about blood pressure. Everyone told stories about their own blood pressure "normal." I suppose the conversation may have become a bit competitive: "Oh yeah, well my blood pressure is higher than YOUR blood pressure." and "My blood pressure is so low it's a miracle I wake up in the mornings." Suddenly my husband pulls out his electronic blood pressure gauge and one at a time, all the way around the room, every person there takes his/her blood pressure then passes the machine on to the next.

It suddenly occurred to me how funny this was....some people may pass around an after dinner smoke .... BUT A BLOOD PRESSURE MONITOR?

Now I know what old people do at dinner parties.

Seen on Markham Road Last Week

Sometimes I think my brother Joe would forget his head if it wasn't attached.

Proud to Be Canadian

Click the flag then "play" to view this stunning tribute to our Canadian heroes.

With thanks to Wade Penner for the Canadian Flag Clip Art Gallery.

Get over it! Hahahahahaha!

Bumper sticker seen today on a mammoth band bus and trailer motoring down the 401 west toward Toronto.

Blossom 1989 - 2006

Shannon's cat, Blossom, passed away today. Date of birth was recorded at the vet's office as June 1, 1989. Blossom had just passed her 17th birthday. She was Shannon's beloved cat for more than 16 years.

That damn cat pissed on almost everything we own. She has definitely left a mark on this world.

Chia doesn't yet realize that she's now an only cat.

I am SO Funny! Ask Roni, Ask Chris!

From a newsbite in a recent issue of Macleans:

"A new survey has found that more than half of younger siblings say they find it easy to be funny, whereas only a third of eldest children have the ability. More joyless are only children, among whom only 11 per cent say they're funny. The survey's compiler....says that younger children have to compete for parents' attention, and one device is humour. In contrast, older children are expected to take on more serious roles in the family, while only children have no need to aspire for parents' attention."

I sure as heck hope this isn't publicly funded science. Imagine some men and women wearing white lab coats with clipboards asking questions: "Do you think you're funny?" and "Where are you in family birth order?" Maybe these are the first results of the Turner Broadcasting System "Department of Humor Analysis," and Macleans thought it was news, right?

The New Mammogram Machine

Lakeridge Health in Oshawa (formerly, Oshawa General Hospital), got a new mammogram machine. I think this new machine must have been invented by a woman.

It's not like the old days where you had to put your breast in a vice and someone would turn the knob until it was as flat as a pancake. The original machine, I think, must have been invented by a man. A man who obviously hated his mother. Must have resented being bottle-fed or something.

This machine, I have to admit, was not the least bit uncomfortable. Although the technician could have given me a warning that I had to stop breathing.

On a related (and much more important!) note, my sister Roni is recovering comfortably from her surgery. The surgeons believe they got the entire lump but took only 2 of 3 cancerous lymph nodes. I think that can only mean good news: it must mean they believe they can get the 3rd node during radiation or chemotherapy.

We'll know more in a few weeks.

My Horoscope for Today

Libra (Sept. 23 — Oct. 23)

If everything in life were smooth running, straightforward and sensible, you'd be bored to tears. We all need a little chaos in our world. Granted, you've had more than your share lately, but that imbalance will get rectified soon enough.

Enough with the chaos already, please?

Source: The Toronto Star

Back to School Blues

I have the back-to-school blues.

But it's not what you might think: it's because, for the first time in more than 20 years, I am NOT seeing my daughter off to school. After five years of university, five years of high school, eight years of elementary school, and two years of kindergarten, we are NOT shopping for new shoes, school uniforms or colored pencils. NO last-minute late August hair cut, Sponge Bob back pack or looseleaf paper to buy.

This year, there's not even a "Bye Mom, off for frosh week, call you in a couple days" as she drives off, hatchback overflowing with blankets, groceries and homemade lasagne.

We didn't go to Grand and Toy, Staples or Wal-mart. The last five years our back-to-school ritual was a trip to Ikea. Not this year. I think the last store we went into together was Shopper's Drug Mart, to buy a wedding card for Shannon's university friends who were tying the knot this weekend.

Right about now, every year for the past five, I've cried as Shannon has driven off for a new year at university.

Today, on this back-to-school eve, I shed a tear because she isn't.

My Courageous Sisters

My sisters are all so incredibly courageous.

Frequent visitors to this blog know that my sister Chris has a million things wrong with her, including the fact that she hasn't taken food by mouth in at least three? four? ten years? She's allergic to a million everyday things that make simple excursions -- like going to a restaurant, grocery shopping or visiting highway service centres to pee -- into life-or-death risks of anaphylaxis. She hooks up to several IVs every day - you should have seen the looks (no, stares) we got when we hooked her IV bag to the passenger seat sun visor for our trip home from Michigan a few weeks ago. She has incredible energy, even though she's losing her strength. She's the loving mother of two extraordinary teens, a wife, sister, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour -- and she never lets anyone know (except perhaps her nurse) how shitty she really feels. She's the bravest, most courageous, generous person I know. I want to be like her when I grow up.

Recent visitors may know that my sister Roni has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She'll be operated on this Friday. We know for certain that she'll require at least 25 chemotherapy treatments and then radiation. She's 41 years old. Like Chris, Roni is an inspiring woman. She's intelligent, funny, committed, passionate about social justice (and injustice). She's an amazing and talented writer, the loving mother of three extraordinary teens, a wife, sister, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour AND the executive director of an incredible and important not-for-profit agency. Shannon and I spent this evening with Roni, her family and many of her children's friends. Roni has incredible energy, great plans for the future and tremendous courage.

My sister Lori moved with her family to Indiana just over two years ago. That takes courage, I'll tell ya! She's gone from seeing us, her family, oh, maybe 10 times a week to seeing everyone, maybe, 3 times a year. I think it's the best thing she could ever have done for her children and her relationship with her husband. Lori looks the best she has looked in the past 15+ years. She's beautiful, strong, independent, and assertive. Like Chris and Roni, Lori is the loving mother of two extraordinary children (one a teen), a wife, sister, daughter, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour and volunteer with her children's schools and activities. Lori never writes or calls just to complain -- although I know how much she misses us is directly proportionate to the amount of baking she does!

Me? I get a headache and I'm in bed for the rest of the day. I cut my finger and have to avoid strenuous activity for a week. I hurt my leg climbing a ladder and you would have thought I had shrapnel wounds, the bandages were so dramatic.

I don't have the courage to not eat, fight cancer, raise more than one child, or move far from home. I'm not at all brave or courageous. In fact, I'm really quite ashamed of the whiner that I am.

But I think I know where I fit in here: if one of my sisters needs me, I'm there.

No questions asked, no job too rotten, no trip too long. I may not have the energy to weed my own garden, clean my own bathroom, tie my own scarves -- but Sisters, if you need me, I am there for you.

Thank YOU Loyal Readers!

Thanks to YOU my blogvalue has increased $564.54 in the past two weeks! Maybe I should auction off my blog on Ebay! Hey? Anybody wanna buy a blog?

August 29 value: $1,693.62
August 15 value: $1,129.08

Reader Discretion Strongly Advised

Warning! Some people may find the following post to be in poor taste. Reader discretion is advised.

I read the online headline that charges have been dropped against John Mark Karr in the Jon-Benet Ramsay murder case. I couldn't help but think:

1. Maybe the guy couldn't afford airfare back to the US so he figured he'd plead guilty to a high profile case and get the red carpet treatment and a first class trip home.

2. What's wrong with the LA County Police Department photographer? Notice any resemblence in these two most recent mug shots? Maybe the photographer is 7 feet tall -- "Just look up here with those puppy-blue eyes."

An Inspirational Story of Hope and Leadership

My sister has been recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Surgery is scheduled for September 1. Since she doesn't blog, I'm sharing this one on her behalf. Here is her story:

She wrote: "I am coaching an AMAZING soccer team. Ages 16-18. From our very first day, these kids have been incredible. Often at this level you get a couple of hotdogs on each team, you get boys that won't pass to girls, you get kids who do not or refuse to communicate or to receive direction. From day one, these kids have been communicative, they are supportive of one another, they all do their best every single time we are together, and they work together as if we had been a team forever. Our is the only team that fields 16-18 players EVERY SINGLE GAME....which is phenomenal at this age since so many kids work, date, etc. We play teams that are fielding 7 or 8 kids out of a roster of 18 kids.

We played in a tournament today. We won our first game 5-3. It was a solid game and we walked away feeling good about our performance.

I reffed between games so spent most of the day at the field.

Having just completed a game immediately preceding our second game today, my Assistant Coach started the game while I went off to change my shoes (from cleats to sandals) and to take off my sweaty jersey.

Turns out, between games these AMAZING kids organized a Pink Ribbon Campaign to show their support in the fight against breast cancer. When I arrived, every player, parent, and fan from both teams, ours and the opposing team, was wearing a pink ribbon. They also asked the ref if they could play with a pink ball in honour of their coach.

(The ref made them take the ribbons off during the game - pins are not safe when playing sports). At half-time the ref came over and hugged me, telling me I had a great group of kids.

When I learned what they had done, of course I cried and thanked the organizer, a strapping 17-year-old kid who couldn't even bring himself to call me (by my name) all season - he only ever referred to me as Coach, even when we ran into him at Canada's Wonderland this summer.

We were tied 3-3 at the end of regulation time. Our kids played their hearts out and were playing great soccer to boot - (no pun intended.) ....8 minutes into Extra Time, we're still tied 0-0. In Golden Goal, the first team to score a goal in ten minutes of Extra time wins the game. The ref tells us we have two minutes to put our kickers on the field ('cuz the only people that can take penalty shots - if it comes to that - are the players on the field). We add one more girl to the field who will be one of our kickers.

At 9 minutes 18 seconds, our team scores a goal and we win the game to advance to the semi-finals.

We celebrate our win, shake hands, and the coaches from the other team and I compliment one another on a fine and sporting performance. It really was a good game and could have gone either way.

In the meantime, (the assistant coach) and I had arranged for pizzas to be delivered to the field - figuring no matter what the end result, we wanted our kids to know that they have been a joy to work with this season.

So, I give my spiel: I thank them for a great season and invited them to join in for pizza. Instead the kids, their parents and grandparents form a circle around me and present me with an oversized card.... Inside each kid has written an inspirational message. They present me with the card saying that they decided to do this, not just because I am a great coach, even tho they say that I am, but because I am also a great person and they all want me know that we're in this together.

I, of course, start to cry (as I am now retelling the story). Each kid kisses and hugs me in turn. They present me with a guardian angel to keep me safe. I cry some more.

We eat our pizza and their parents start - thanking me for teaching their children sportsmanship, thanking me for a great season and offering their prayers.

I'm bawling now....and thank them for letting me spend time with their beautiful children.

R"

Of course, I cannot read this without crying myself. I agree with those kids 100% -- Roni is a pretty special and amazingly talented person! This is the kind of story that gives me great hope: of course, not only for Roni's prognosis, but also for the youth of today for the future of the world because of strong, positive and inspirational leaders like Roni.

More Evidence the World is Cruel to My Sister Chris

My sister Chris has gastroparesis. Among a host of other life-challenging health problems, she is also deathly allergic to mushrooms, coconut, latex, pineapple, kiwi, cats and all nuts. In fact, most of her allergies are air-borne, meaning if she is exposed to nut proteins in the air she will immediately have an anaphylactic reaction, requiring emergency use of an epi-pen and a trip to the hospital. Something as simple as shopping for the rest of us can be deadly to Chris. Within the past year she has almost died at Future Shop (they were having a bake sale to support a community group inside the vestibule; someone had baked with nuts) and Shopper's Home Health (a specialty store within the Shopper's Drug Mart brand, where ~ ironically ~ she went to purchase latex-free bandages only to walk into the store and find a large latex balloon bouquet!).

But here is the ultimate irony.

Chris entered a contest. She forgets what the contest actually was or which company was sponsoring it, but I imagine that she hoped to win $50,000, a new car or perhaps a trip to the Grand Canyon.

A few weeks ago she received a telephone call notifying her that she had won a consolation prize: 48 Oh Henry chocolate bars.

Doesn't sound so bad, does it? But what's the #2 ingredient in an Oh Henry bar after chocolate? NUTS!

Chris declined to accept the prize. She advised the caller that she was deathly allergic to nuts and asked him to award the prize to someone else. "We can't do that," he told her. "The rules clearly state that prizes must be accepted as awarded."

"But accepting your prize could kill me," she warned. "Can't you take it home or hand them out to the people you work with? What if I fax you a signed affidavit releasing you from any obligation to give me the prize?"

Nope. Not negotiable.

Let's presume that she had provided her address when she entered the contest and that's also why she couldn't have the box of chocolate bars sent to someone else's house (pick me!) ---

She told him to send the prize package via courier without a signature and to advise the delivery company to leave it on the front porch. She couldn't leave her house until her husband came home from work and moved the box to the trunk of his car. The next day he took 48 Oh Henry bars to his office and shared them with his grateful co-workers.

Chris, I'm sorry I laughed so very hard when you told me this story. The irony, the cruelty, the absurdity of it all kills me.

#1 on Today's "To-Do" List

Book mammogram.

Thank God We Have Gun Control in this Country!

Otherwise I'd be in jail. Last Thursday I spent 58 minutes on the phone with Bell Sympatico. Friday I spent 52 minutes on the phone with them, speaking to another four different people. I had to hang up while I was on hold because school was starting. Yesterday morning my husband, upon leaving in the morning for work, wished me a happy day on hold with Sympatico. All told, I spent more than 3 1/2 hours on hold with them yesterday. Today from 9 a.m. to 12:40 p.m. FINALLY our internet service is restored. I tell you, it's a good thing that we have gun control in this country!

The Evolution of a Painting

Three stages of my current work over the past two days. Picture 1 - the dry brush drawing. Picture 2 - laying in the background and starting the shadows. Picture 3 - the local color, end of day 2 on this painting.

Caution: Wet Paint

Now we know why some artists starve. To illustrate my point:

On the left, my dry brush drawing. On the right, beginning to model form in the chest area - you may notice that I was both short on time and talent!

See Any Progress?

Yesterday's exercise gave us about 2 hours to create a dry brush gestural construct of the nude model.

Today, our goal was a two-tone gestural construct, more fully developed than day one. Do you see any progress?

God Spoke to Me Last Week and I Listened

Today was my first day of school. School, glorious school. I love it so much, it's a tremendous disappointment when the day ends. It seems as if the day is only an hour long.

And what a wonderful feeling: everyone I know seemed genuinely happy to see me again. Like they noticed my absence.

My heart sings when I am painting. I believe it is what I am meant to do.

Last week, while tiling my mother's kitchen, I told my brother-in-law that I had spent the first years of my career (27 years, to be exact) using my brain. I have decided that I will spend the next years of my career using my hands. We both agreed that thinking is highly over-rated. (Thing is, I suspect that thinking pays better.)

If you read my Top 11 list, you will see that most are related to my hands, few are cerebral pursuits.

I had an inspiring conversation with one of the masters, Juan Carlos Martinez, today. He said there are three ways to make a living as an artist: (i) be rich; (ii) marry rich; (iii) be lucky, and if you're lucky, numbers (i) and (ii) fall into place, too. I wonder where that leaves me.

On the other hand, master Fernando Freitas gave this important advice: "Talent is not a "gift from God," it is earned through practice." I wonder if Tiger Woods agrees.

What an honor it has been: twice I've told people that I'm going to school this week and both times people have asked inf I'm teaching! What a compliment, thank you!

(I'll post today's painting tomorrow -- forgot the camera and my cell phone was dead!)

God Spoke to Me Today

My brother-in-law, Max, is remodelling my parents' kitchen. I am helping. We work very well together as a team -- we're both perfectionists.

He's been working 16 hour days since Sunday, doing an incredible job, rebuilding the kitchen counters and back splash wall and rewiring for new lighting. He and I have been working, 16 hour days, for the past two days laying 2x2 porcelain tiles on the counters and 4x4 decorative ceramic tiles on the backsplash. It's tedious and strenuous work.

The most amazing thing happened this evening while we were tiling. Max was working with 2x2 tiles on the counter. I was laying in the backsplash with the 4x4s. I had just pulled a large stack of tiles from a new box and was working from the pile. Suddenly something caught my eye: between two brand new from-the-box 4x4 tiles was a Chinese fortune cookie message. It said:

"Take some time for yourself."

Was God talking to me through Chinese fortune cookie messages sent in a box of ceramic tiles made in Japan?

11 Careers I Would Love

Let's see if you notice a theme here.....

11. Motivational speaker -- I am especially good at selling passion.
10. Art teacher -- especially for very young children, before anyone has told them that sky must be blue -- sometimes it needs to be orange, or red, or pink or purple.....
9. Art gallery owner -- but I admit there would be little modern art.
8. Organizational planner -- functional and well-designed storage excites me!
7. Welder -- so I could make metal sculptures.
6. Sculptor -- in clay and then bronze.
5. Ceramic tile designer -- especially if I could live in Italy or Greece or France.
4. Bed & breakfast owner -- I'd love to bake fresh muffins every morning and paint every afternoon.
3. Vineyard owner -- I love to talk to plants and they respond. Every afternoon I'd paint.
2. Gravestone engraver -- the old fashioned way.
1. Fine artist.

Someone Find the Off Button, Quick!

It's not even 10:00 a.m. and, after working 14 1/2 hours at The Children's Group yesterday, already this morning I have:

* washed the kitchen and breakfast room floors
* vacuumed the entire house
* lemon oiled all the hard wood flooring
* cut the lawn (an amazing pattern, if I do say so myself!)

Someone please find the "off" switch, please!

Days 3 and 4 - My So-called New LIfe

Day 3 - Waterloo. Cut the lawn at the rental property. Good news: we have a conditional offer on the house. Fingers crossed the deal goes through -- it's my safety net. Stopped in to see my sister Chris who was dancing with her partner (translated that means she was dragging around an IV pole!). Damn bastards at Shopper's Drug Mart never even called or wrote to apologize for damn-near killing her. Got home just in time to clean up the kitchen from Day 2's dinner party (no, we don't eat guests for dinner) and cook Day 3's dinner. The littler empress called. Conversation started like this: "Mom, I'm OK." Needless to say, when a conversation starts like that, you know there's a part of the story when she WASN'T OK. She was stepped on by a horse that spooked and had to get 2 stitches in her leg. She insists everything is fine. Whenever I would leave my parents' house, they always advised "Be good, have fun." With Shannon my advice is always "Be smart. Have fun." She was quick to let me know that the accident didn't happen because she wasn't smart: "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mom." She was leading a horse from the stable to the arena when it spooked at a tractor. The tractor driver wisely turned off the machine to let them pass, but then UNWISELY started it again as soon as she was by. The tractor backfired and spooked the horse who rose up then came down on Shannon's leg. Next time, ask the guy not to restart the tractor until you and the horse are W-A-Y-O-V-E-R------------>T-H-E-R-E!

Went to Dorothy's after dinner for a little R 'n' R. She told me that I remind her of a jack-in-the-box (jill-in-the-box?) that's just sprung out and is flip-flopping side-to-side, front-to-back, boing, boing, BOING all over the place. Um. Perfect description of me right now.

Invented a new word today: "erratica" - it's when your erotic fantasies keep getting interrupted by your attention-deficit-disorder -- suddenly you remember you have to take your shoes to the shoemaker, buy picture-hanging hardware, clean the fridge in the basement, scoop the cat litter, pay the hydro bill..... You read it here first.

Day 4 - Dentist, remembered to "pre-med" this time. Grocery store to pick up dinner -- now THAT's something new - planning AND SHOPPING for dinner before 10:00 a.m. Finally spoke with my brother Jeremy (who, I want it known, returned every single one of my phone calls this week!) Bank to sign affidavits so they can return the $1,000 stolen from my account. Wallpaper browsing for a short bit. Came up with a clever idea -- I took photos of the wallpaper samples with my cell phone then emailed them to myself. They haven't arrived yet and it's been hours -- where in the universe is my mail? OK, so it SEEMED like a clever idea. Lunch (cheez whiz and crackers). Sick, no really, I mean I got sick right after eating. Usual deep crash. Thyroid specialist appointment (been waiting more than 6 months, hooray!). Blood tests. She'll call with a prescription tomorrow. Hooray again! Terrible crash, tremendous headache. Could hardly drive home. Slept for 3 hours. Woke up minutes before Lju came home from work. BBQ'd fresh pickerel for dinner. One of the biggest differences: we eat dinner when it's still light out! Tomorrow I must tend to business. I've been putting it off all week -- but it's not like I've had any time!

Last thing today: Jeremy got a promotion. Meet my baby brother, the new VP of National Promotion! I'm such a proud big sister.

Someone Please Save Me from Myself

I'm exhausted. Day 2. Tea with hubby. Favourite part of day. Great conversation with Judy. Second best part of day. Patch walls in preparation for painting, sometime next month. Ladder to Shannon's room. Take down custom curtain, takes hours. Wash curtains. Assemble new steam cleaner. Steam clean carpets. Too hot in here. Reinstall curtains, takes hours. Lunch on the patio. Nap. Shower. Dress. Shop for guest for dinner. Prepare dinner. Enjoy hostessing. Dinner started at 7:30 and ended at 11:30 p.m. Great way to spend an evening, chocolate fondue and red wine. I'm exhausted.

The First Day of My New Life

Today,

I got up at my usual time and had tea with my husband. That's the best part of my day.

Started my special secret project then left the house at 10:00 to go to the bank. My bank card was cancelled this weekend since it had been used at a bank machine that had been 'compromised.'

Got a new bank card. Found out the slimy thief made two $500 withdrawls on my account on Saturday afternoon. His mistake? He made both withdrawls within minutes of me using my card in Ajax, ON. Thank GOD for BMO security tracking....

Went to have 'tea' with my Mom. Only it turned out it was coffee. First cuppa coffee I've had in more than 3 weeks.

Came home to see Shannon off to Barrie for a few days of horse showing.

Got an email from my friend Nat. Talked with him on the phone for a few minutes.

Went to the post office. Went to the grocery store. Back to the post office. Bought a toe ring. It's cute. Birthday cards for F and A, even though it's two weeks past their birthdays.

Home to pay bills. Spent a fortune, including house taxes on both properties. I think I need a job.

Called UPS to find out where last week's package is. Turns out it was delivered at 9:40 this morning and signed for by a guy named 'Vince.' I hope a guy named Vince shows up at the door with my UPS package. Guess I need to get to know my neighbours!

Took photos of the storm clouds. Walked to the post office box, but even though I've lived here for 5 years, I have no idea which PO box is ours. That's kind of pathetic, don't you think? Tried our key in 5 locks and none opened. Felt like a criminal. I'll leave it for Lju.

Called the Waterloo tenant at his parents' number. He wasn't there. Of course, his father knew nothing of his son's lies and deception regarding outstanding rent and bills. The kids owes us $1,000.00. Dad accused me of having a bad attitude. Yeah? And your kid's a liar. Pissed me off royally.

Updated bank accounts. Opened financial reports from investment advisor. Didn't read them but pretended that I did. Will file them tomorrow.

Picked up wonderful, kind voice mail message from Judy. God, I love her! She offered congratulations, lunch date and healing session. Made me cry.

Started dinner. Broke a Corningware dish top and it shattered into a million pieces.

Swept floor, vacuumed floor, moved fridge, moved stove, vacuumed and cleaned behind each. Figured since I had the vacuum out, I may as well do the whole house, even though I had just vacuumed it all yesterday. Man! Working is easier than this. At least when the painter comes in a few weeks to paint the house, he'll think, wow, what a housekeeper -- it's spotless behind the fridge and the stove.

It's wonderful to be able to plan, cook, enjoy pleasing my family with a thoughtful dinner.

Pre-dinner drinks with my husband on the patio. Shared every moment of my day. He's so patient and kind.

Dinner was delightful. Maybe drank a little too much, ate just enough.

Blogged.

If anyone had been following me today, they would think I was either manic depressive or being chased by the Mob. I'm exhausted. And I feel like I'm cheating, just waiting to be caught. Like I'm skipping off school or work and any moment now I'll be found out as a fraud. This is so stressful! Can't wait for tomorrow!

A True Story from September 2004.....

Was looking for an old email message this week and came across this classic, sent to a business colleague on September 17, 2004. Boy! I save everything. But this is a classic business story, don't you think?

Last week I went into the hospital for surgery. At 2 p.m. I walked into the operating room and climbed up on to the operating table. In the room with me were three surgical nurses, the surgeon, (all women) and the anesthetist. The anesthetist put me into position and everyone started hooking up sensors and lines, got the IV running; there was commotion all around. At one point, the anesthetist said, "I'm going to ask you the same question I ask everyone: Do you have any hobbies?"

"Yes," I answered. "I'm a painter."

"Oh really? Do you paint walls or canvases?" he inquired.

"Portraits, actually," I replied. He was very impressed. "Is that a hobby or is that your profession?," he asked.

"No, right now it's my dream that someday I can earn my living from my art, but right now I have to have a real job."

"What do you do now?" he asked. I told him that I run a record company that produces classical music recordings for children.

"YOU DO? OH MY GOD, I LOVE YOU" he screamed at me. All heads in the operating theatre turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?" I asked.

He was practically jumping up and down: "My wife and I have a one-year-old daughter. She listens only to classical music." He then asked a ton of questions about which titles we produce, what series, and how many in each of the series (it turns out he owns a few Mozart Effect CDs but she's still too young for Classical Kids). I told him about each of The Mozart Effect and Classical Kids titles and said, "When she gets older, she may also enjoy our opera CD."

"OH MY GOD!" he screamed again. "I THINK WE HAVE THAT CD. That's the one with Russell Braun, right?"

I explained that Russell Braun was on one of our OTHER opera CDs (Mozart's Magic Fantasy). I was trying to think of some of the names of the opera stars on The World's Very Best Opera for Kids CD.....but things were starting to get cloudy now as the anesthetic started flowing.

"Oh, yes," he remembered for me. "That's the one with Michael Schade," HE says to ME! Inside the back of my head I'm thinking: I can NOT believe I am having this conversation.

"That's right" I say, in shock that, at that moment, he knows more about my product than I do.

"Michael Schade sings Figaro on that CD, doesn't he?" the anesthetist asks. Now, things are getting really foggy but I know that's not right....but I can't think of the name of the song that Michael Schade sings. So, getting foggier and foggier, I start singing it.....

At least the guy recognized the melody. "Oh yes, La donna e mobile," he tells me. (I remember thinking: this guy should come work for us!)

"I'd like to get more of your CDs," he said. "Where can I find them?"

"Well, you should be able to find them at any record store," I said optimistically. "Or you can go to our website at www.childrensgroup.com"

I wasn't aware of it, but the surgical nurses and the surgeon had been paying close attention to our conversation. Suddenly one of the nurses came lunging at me with a pad of paper and a pen. "WHAT'S THAT WEBSITE AGAIN?" she screamed at me.

It took every bit of energy and memory that I had to s-l-o-w-l-y get out the words: w-w-w-dot-child-rens- group - dot - com.

My last words before going under.

Fade to black.

If I had died on the operating room table that day, MY LAST DYING WORDS WOULD HAVE BEEN

WWW.CHILDRENSGROUP.COM

No parting messages to my beautiful daughter, my loving husband, my wonderful parents. NO!!!!!!!!

WWW.CHILDRENSGROUP.COM

I've always joked that with my long hours and stressful gig no one should be surprised to find me dead one morning slumped over my desk.......but that's not how I wanted to go: promoting our website!!!!!!!!!!!

At least our shareholders will be pleased to know that I was going for that last big sale......

Shannon's Graduation

I'm such a proud Mom! My little girl has earned her Bachelor of Arts in Communications Studies and English. Share a few moments with us!

Click the arrow to play the video. Click any photo to enlarge.

A few more photos to come when we find the adaptor to get them off the card in Lju's phone!

Nano Technology

Long ago when I was in high school we learned that an atom was the smallest form of matter. Things have changed. Now we have the nano. No, not the I-pod mini, but the actual unit of measurement. How small is a nanometer? According to the current issue of National Geographic:

* "one human hair is about 80,000 nanometers wide
* the nail on your little finger is about ten million nanometers across
* one nanometer is to an inch what one inch is to 400 miles
* Shaquille O'Neal is 2,160,000,000 nanometers tall
* the head of a pin is one million nanometers wide
* a five dollar bill is 100,000 nanometers thick"

I find it awesome to comprehend the world in such infinitesimal quantities.

The US government invested one BILLION dollars in nanotechnology research last year alone -- more than they ever invested in the human genome project.

On a more simplistic note, it's also an awesome accomplishment for mankind that we can transplant a human heart.

So why can't we make a nail polish that doesn't smudge?

What's Wrong with Me Part 3

At the doctor's again today. My iron is very low but the good news is that my thyroid level is a very good 16 (in comparison to the previous 23). So, what does that mean? Now, all the symptoms we've been blaming on my thyroid may be caused by something else. The one that causes me the most concern is the "crash" after eating. It's bad. And it doesn't matter what or when I eat. Although I first mentioned it to him more than 60 days ago, he's now looking at other possibilities including my blood sugar level (might that also account for the debilitating migraine-type headaches?). He wants to rule out mononucleosis, too. I have to go for two sets of blood work -- we'll do one when I'm feeling shitty (in the crash after eating) and the second when I'm feeling less crappy. Then we can compare the glucose levels in each test.

In addition to the iron pills, the doctor gave me antibiotics for the salivary gland infection. AND I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, so that means the first heavy-duty antibiotic treatment for that procedure.

Oh yeah, I printed a copy of my blog post for his files -- unedited. I hope he doesn't take it personal -- but then again, maybe he needs to be reminded that I'm living this every day.

What's Wrong with Me Part 2

Two days later. Let's add to the list the fact that I spent all last night sick with both diarrhea and vomiting at the same time. No one should have to go through that. It's subhuman.

Today I almost fainted at least 10 times. This is not good. Tomorrow I'll call the doctor. He'll probably tell me that's within the normal range.

What's Wrong with Me

That is a statement, not a question.

Here's a list of all the current ailments and conditions I presently have:

Graves disease, aka hyperthyroidism - When: First symptoms identified in January, 2006. Where: South of France How do I know? Let me list the symptoms associated with hyperthyroidism: change in skin texture * my hair hurts almost all the time * heart palpitations * my nails are growing like crazy, my hair, too * ravenous appetite * headaches across the back of my head * my bones ache to the deepest part of them * oh, yeah, I have no patience, I snap when I don't mean to and I can't wait long enough for people to finish a sentence * my eyes are bugging out, especially the left one (lovely vision, huh?) * suddenly my eyesight is extremely poor * I frequently pull out into traffic and wonder where that car came from. My eyes move more slowly now since they are protruding and it's difficult to judge distance and speed * can't sleep * when I finally do fall asleep, can't wake up * nightmares * my periods are very short, light and irregular (but shouldn't really complain about that, should I?) * thirsty ALL THE TIME * oh yeah, can't forget the paranoia, that's something really lovely to live with, isn't it? * hypersensitive hearing at the high range (can't hear any better when people are speaking, but I can hear the refrigerator humming from the opposite end of the house with the TV on) * and here's the one biggest symptom - immediately after eating my body doesn't know what to do with the excess energy and so I go into this deep, deep "crash." My heart races, my temperature elevates, I feel feverish and exhausted to the bone, can barely hold my head up. The crash is so low I swear I could fall asleep driving, or working, or in the middle of a meeting and life would go on around me unchanged for at least 2-3 hours, it takes that long to recover. That's probably the worst one.

What: The normal range for the thyroid hormone is between 9 and 25 (whatever the unit of measurement is, I don't know). My thyroid level is 23, therefore considered "in the normal range." Now, the thing we don't know is what is normal for ME. What if normal for me is 7? Then I'm more than 3X greater than normal, therefore I am exceedingly outside MY normal range. So the doctor tells me I must get sicker before I can get better.

The thyroid ultrasound found a small lump on the left side of my thyroid. As my family doctor describes it, "the ultrasound tells you there's a lump there, but doesn't tell you what it is." OK, thanks.

Mitral valve prolapse - I am learning that this seems to be quite a common condition, except I never had heart palpitations before I had this current thyroid problem, and there is a known connection between MVP and hyperthyroidism. We can work around this -- I just have to take heavy duty doses of antibiotics before going to the dentist. And hope it doesn't get worse. There is definitely a strain on my heart - I feel it every single day. This morning the racing heart woke me up and stayed with me all day, ALL DAY.

About 4 weeks ago, I wore a holter heart monitor for 24 hours. It was a completely sedentary day that day - I worked in my office (at the old location, no flights of stairs, nothing unusual or the least bit strenuous). The most vigourous thing I did that day was walk across a parking lot and I got winded! I saw the test results last Friday when I was at the doctor's office. My heart rate ranged from a low of 57 bpm (verrrrrry sedentary) to a high of 127 bpm. I pointed that out to the doctor. 127 bpm - that's faster than disco; it's higher than the fitness club goal after 25 minutes on the treadmill. That's all I did was walk across a parking lot. "It's within the normal range," the doctor said. "It's not normal for me." I wish I had a dollar for every time I've said that.

Can't forget the debilitating migraine headache I had on Wednesday of this week. Haven't had a headache like that since my early twenties, before I wore braces. Way back when, after I got my braces off, the dentist gave me a retainer to wear at night or whenever I felt the first signs of a migraine coming. Driving back from a meeting downtown, the pain was so bad, my back teeth screamed every time the car went over a small bump. In tears, I seriously thought about pulling on to the side of the road to sleep for a couple hours, it was that bad. Home in bed at 3 in the afternoon, digging in my bedside table looking for that retainer. That, together with a heating pad, Advil, Tylenol and a Robax Platinum finally helped. Slept 'til 6:30 p.m. then back in bed again at 9. Thursday I felt as though every ounce of strength had been expended fighting yesterday's pain.

I think I have started grinding or clenching my teeth at night.

I'm swollen on the right side of my neck, so I thought maybe that's where the lump on the left side of my thyroid was (you know, like stage left if you're looking at the stage). Turns out I have a new infection in my salivary gland. Who knows if it's related or just another part expiry. Because of all the hoopla around my heart condition, the doctor forgot to give me antibiotics for this infection so I've been taking some minocycline that I had from my skin doctor. Only thing about minocycline is, it kills the good bacteria in your gut. So I've been countering that with lactobacillus tablets. My gut is in turmoil.

And yes, yes, sister Chris, I'm going for the mammogram, I promise.

My husband told me last night that the doctor had called the day before (we hadn't seen each other the previous night since I had worked into the wee hours). They must have the latest blood work back. I'll see him again next week, but my appointment with the thyroid specialist isn't until June 22.

It's like the warranty has run out on my body and everything is breaking down.

Had to get that off my chest and finally put everything into one long list.

Go Go Dancers of Nepal

Very clever amateur claymation video with cool groove music. Check it out.

The Great Cat Food Dilemma - What do You Think?

One of our cats LOVES tuna. Last weekend we ran out of cat food so I opened a can of tuna for the two of them to share. Blossom wolfed down the entire can in less than 5 minutes then promptly walked to the front of the house where she regurgitated everything into a neat, warm little pile. She hadn't even chewed her food, it still looked exactly like it did when it came out of the can. I thought about picking it up and putting it all back in her dish.

Is this gross?
	Absolutely! How could you think such a thing?
	No, it's practical. Nothing wrong with recycled food.
	You're sick!
Free polls from Pollhost.com

BABIES SHOULD NOT WATCH TV!!!!!!

My personal obsession, commitment, passion, vow:

I will do everything within my power to prevent this from EVER coming to Canada.

From www.thestar.com:

Round-the-clock TV channel for babies to launch
'Babies are already watching TV,' VP explains
May 10, 2006. 02:35 PM
ASSOCIATED PRESS


NEW YORK — Escalating an already heated national debate, a first-of-its-kind TV channel premieres Thursday designed specifically for babies — an age group that the American Academy of Pediatrics says should be kept away from television altogether.

The new, round-the-clock channel is called BabyFirstTV. For $9.99 (U.S.) a month, it will be available initially by satellite through DirecTV and later through cable TV providers as well.

TV offerings already abound for older toddlers, and a lucrative — though controversial — market has developed for baby-oriented videos, attracting the Walt Disney Co. and the makers of Sesame Street, among others. But until now there had been no ongoing TV programming aimed at infants.

"This is the first channel dedicated to babies and their parents — transforming TV from its original purpose into a way for them to interact," said Sharon Rechter, BabyFirstTV's executive vice president for business development and marketing.

"The fact of life is that babies are already watching TV," she said. "That's why having BabyFirstTV is so important — what we want to offer is completely safe, commercial-free and appropriate content.''

A 2003 study by the Kaiser Family Foundation found that 68 percent of children under 2 watch TV or videos daily and 26 percent have a TV in their bedroom. Nonetheless, the pediatrics academy recommends that children of that age not be exposed to TV or videos, saying that learning to talk and play with others is much more important.

The academy's guidelines were cited last week in a complaint filed with the Federal Trade Commission, challenging claims by leading makers of videos for babies that their products were educational.

Seattle-area pediatrician Donald Shifrin, chairman of the academy committee that studies television and children, urged parents to exercise prudence and to view the new TV options skeptically.

"Sesame Street has opened a Pandora's box by legitimizing the idea that TV needs to be developed for this demographic," Shifrin said. "We're not the nation's nanny, but we do want to provide a little balance — we don't want to make TV the default entertainer for children.''

Critics of TV for infants also are skeptical of assertions by BabyFirstTV and other companies that their products are designed to be watched by babies and parents together in an interactive manner.

"Experience tells anyone that it's not going to be used that way," said Dr. Michael Rich, director of the Center on Media and Child Health at Children's Hospital Boston. "Parents use it to park their kids in front of the TV so they can get things done.''

Rich said the companies "are basically letting parents off the hook from their guilt by saying, 'This is educational,' so parents can justify it to themselves.''

Rechter said BabyFirstTV is not claiming that its programs — designed for viewers from 6 months to 3 years old — will make babies smarter. "But having babies and parents interact helps children's development, and we give them that opportunity," she said.

Asked about the possibility that parents might simply use the new channel as a baby sitter, Rechter replied, "We could speculate as much as we like about what parents should do.''

"If a baby is watching TV, let's put them in front of appropriate content," she said. "At the end of the day, parents make the decisions.''

BabyFirstTV's advisory board includes Dr. Edward McCabe, a pediatrician who is physician-in-chief at UCLA's Mattel Children's Hospital.

"I was skeptical when I first heard about it," McCabe said. ``But I became convinced that this is a major evolution in media for kids.''

Rechter said BabyFirstTV will start with 250 hours of content, 80 percent of it original. Some of its programs will come from baby DVD companies, including Brainy Baby and First Impressions, and it has an agreement with Sterling Publishing, a Barnes & Noble subsidiary, to use children's books in a "Story Time" program.

By the end of 2006, Rechter said, BabyFirstTV also will be available in Spanish.

The three companies behind BabyFirstTV are Regency Enterprises, a film and TV production company that is a partner of Fox Entertainment; Kardan N.V, an investment group based in the Netherlands and Israel; and Bellco Capital, a private Los Angeles-based investment fund.

That's what we call Democracy!

"Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.

We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem. We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.

Search us, Oh, God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Amen!"

Attributed to Rev. Joe Wright of the Central Christian Church addressing the Kansas state Senate.

That's what we call democracy! God help us all.

Thought for the Year

"It is critical that we teach this next generation how to think -- not just what to think." -- Barbara Coloroso

Totally Random Thought

As I was driving home from work this evening, I saw a woman jogging with her dog. I could have sworn that you could tell the dog thought the woman was running too slow.

Make It Count - Just Don't Do the Math!

We received a mailing from the Air Miles people today. I needed something mindless to do while grabbing dinner (Doritos and water at 11:00 at night), so I read their brochure. I noticed that you can redeem 100 Air Miles for a CD from the Universal Music catalogue.

If you don't have enough Air Miles, you can purchase additional miles at a cost of $0.30 a mile.

So let's say you have 10 Air Miles and you want a CD. You have to buy 90 Air Miles at $0.30 a mile. That'll cost you $27.00 to get your $10 CD.

Make it count - isn't that hilarious!

Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe
"It's my job to enlighten the world."

Online at www.empressgallery.com

An email to Lakeridge Health Centre Oshawa (aka Oshawa General Hospital)

This morning I had to visit the Echo department for tests. I noticed many signs prominently displayed about the hospital's "no fragrance" policy. Good for you!

EXCEPT FOR ONE MAJOR THING: My sister has airborne allergies to nut proteins. As soon as she is exposed to the protein IN THE AIR she goes into anaphylactic shock. Today you had a bake sale in the main lobby of the hospital. Many of the items being sold contained nuts of a variety of kinds. HOW RIDICULOUS IS THAT? Thank God, my sister didn't have to visit your hospital today for any reason. IT COULD HAVE KILLED HER.

I brought this to the attention of a group of volunteers AND a technician in the Echo department. Everyone rolled their eyes at me like I'm crazy.

I support your fundraising efforts 100% but please ban nut products from any bake sales (or cafeteria products), for the sake of the community!

A Funny Line from My Dream Tonight

"When you're 45 'pancakes' IS the range of your imagination."

Spoken by a hyperactive and hyperintelligent young boy of about 8, as if 'pancakes,' in answer to some unknown question, represents NO IMAGINATION whatsoever.

This would make a great line in a script, although I have no idea what that script would be about. I guess that's why it's from a dream. It made me laugh in my dream, which made me laugh in my sleep, which woke me up, which is why I'm writing this at 3:20 a.m. Also because when you're 45, you can't remember things long enough to wait 'til morning.

From the News of the Ridiculous: Bono Feels Exploited

This is so ironic it needs no further comment.

Guess Who's NOT Going to Win this Week's Award for Excellence in Customer Service?

The Accounts Receivable department at ADT Security. I called them at 8:00 a.m. this morning to update my in-law's monthly automatic billing to a new credit card number. This is the message I received:

"Thank you for calling ADT Accounts Receivable. Our office is open from 7:00 a.m. - 6:00 p.m. mountain standard time. We are experiencing a higher than usual volume of calls....."

OK, so I've heard that before. I expected the message to tell me my approximate wait time, as it does if you call Bell or Rogers or American Express or..... but no, here's what came next.....

"....We will return your call within 3 business days."

WHAT????? 3 BUSINESS DAYS TO RETURN A PHONE CALL TO COLLECT MY PAYMENT????? Who established that standard -- I pitifully picture some middle manager at a meeting announcing that the new standard for returning customer phone calls is 3 days. THREE *&^%$##%&* DAYS? THIS IS ACCEPTABLE? DOES THE PRESIDENT OF ADT KNOW THAT THE A/R STANDARD FOR RETURNING CUSTOMER PHONE CALLS IS 3 DAYS?????

Notice that it's not 3 days -- but 3 BUSINESS days.

Never mind that A/R collections can make or break a company. It's all about cash flow *&&%^%%*()!

(c) 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Online at www.empressgallery.com

Mozart 250 Birthday Celebrations

Mozart on the beach in the south of France, January 2006. 1 of 4, click to enlarge (popups must be enabled to view larger icon). Make sure you have the volume turned up!

McDonalds and KFC - How Stupid is This?

I enjoy McDonald's breakfast every once in a while. My favourite is a Sausage McMuffin with egg and 2 hash browns. My favourite drink in the whole wide world is club soda, lots of ice. But not every McD serves club soda; in fact, very few do.

So I end up ordering exactly this: Sausage McMuffin with Egg and 2 hash browns, please.

Twice in the past two weeks the attendant has asked what drink I would like with my order. "No drink," I answer.

"But it's cheaper if you order a drink," she says.

Huh?

Tonight I went to the KFC drive-thru. "May I take your order?" the attendant asked. "Yes, I'd like a 3 pc meal, please" (I always say please.)

"And what drink would you like with that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't want a combo," I said. "Just a meal, no drink."

"But it's cheaper to get it with a drink," she says.

Huh?

How can the same food be cheaper if I order a drink? Doesn't the franchisee have to pay for the syrup, servicing the fountain, the ice, the cup and lid AND the attendant to pour the drink, reducing productivity, and slowing down drive-thru service overall? And I pay LESS?

What business school did these guys go to?

I'm going to start ordering the drink just so I can pay less. Then I'm gonna leave it on the curb just outside the drive thru.

Let's add an additional cost -- now the lot and lobby worker has more garbage to pick up.

How stupid is that?

(c) Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Online at www.empressgallery.com

My Sister's Blog

Please read my sister's blog.

My sister has gastroparesis. She needs a new pacemaker and she needs it now.

Canada is supposed to be the land of universal health care. It's not really true. Please read about her quality of life.

What she has to say is far more valuable than my senseless opinion on anything.


(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

More Evidence the End is Near

Links proving the end of the world is coming upon us.

Updated April 12, 2006: Couple fake sextuplets to defraud neighbours.

Originally posted March 14, 2006: Father convicted of drugging children's tennis opponents.

Reading from Left to Right

Remember when people used to read from left to right? Have you noticed that email has changed all that -- now we have to read "from the bottom up."

Is this Stupid or is it Just Me?

I just ordered tickets for a play. Is this stupid or is it just me? Here's the notice that came just before I hit the "pay for these tickets" button:

A $1.00 Convenience Fee will be added to each ticket in this order. An Internet Order Fee of $1.20 and $0.50 per ticket will be added to this order.

Forgive me, but doesn't that mean that $2.70 per ticket will be added to this order? What exactly is the point of separating the charges? Is it supposed to make me feel like $1.00 plus $1.20 plus $0.50 is less than $2.70? And what exactly is the difference between a "convenience fee" for using the internet and "an internet order fee" and why is the "internet order fee" $1.20 and .50 per ticket? Is it possible that the internet order fee is supposed to mean $1.20 per order and $0.50 per ticket?

What if we did the same thing on our CDs?

Please pay $15.98 for your CD. Please note, an Overhead Service Fee of $1.00 will be added to your order. A Marketing Privilege Fee of $1.20 will be added to your order. Please add $0.50 per disc to cover the cost of our Employee Bonus Program. Please add $3.00 for postage, $1.20 for an envelope and $0.70 for the productivity we lose every time an employee walks an order to the mailbox. If you're ordering 3 CDs or more and the price of gas is less than $0.80 per litre, please add an additional $0.70 to cover the cost of driving your order to the post office. If gas costs more than $0.80 a litre, please add an additional $0.17. Thank you for your business!

(c) 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Charlie the Custodian

Last week I was at the Scotiabank Tower downtown Toronto for a meeting with my lawyer. A man boarded the elevator with me for the ride to the 48th floor.

I couldn't help but notice that he had a custom-embroidered workman's shirt with the name 'Charlie' over the right breast pocket and 'Scotiabank' in the same position on the other side. Charlie was also wearing a heavy, leather tool belt and carrying a mop. Charlie was clearly a custodian of the Scotiabank Tower.

The elevator stopped at each of the first five floors - all of which housed various departments of Scotiabank: personal banking, business services, international trade, investor relations, etc. etc. Each floor filled with Scotiabank employees, none with their names embroidered on their shirts.

Why does Charlie have to wear his name on his clothing but not other Scotiabank employees? Why doesn't Polly, the personal banking specialist, have to wear her name embroidered on her dress? What about Steve, the "relationship manager*"? Why isn't his name emblazened on his shirt? What about CEO Richard Waugh? I'm going to take a guess that he may have his initials embroidered on his sleeve, but that's not the same thing, is it?

*Don't get me started. After five years banking with Scotiabank, I actually received my first call from my "relationship manager." If you ask me, he wasn't do a very good job managing our relationship if it was his first call in five years, was he?

(c) 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Visit online at: www.empressgallery.com

Storm of 2006 - New York City in a blanket of snow

I took this picture Sunday morning about 8:00 a.m. looking south down Broadway from 86th Street West. There is not a car, truck, taxi, police car, fire truck, pedestrian in sight. But when I uploaded the picture I was shocked. I thought someone had changed the settings on the camera to take only black and white photos. Then I saw the bright orange hand glowing "Don't Walk." This is a color photo, but there was no color in the city that morning. Everything was shades of grey.

This view is looking north up Broadway. The only colors showing are the traffic lights ahead and the neon of a pink and blue sign behind the bus shelter. My only regret is that I didn't think to go to Central Park to play in the snow.

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

Human Rights vs Human Responsibilities

Let's stop talking about human RIGHTS and start talking about human RESPONSIBILITIES.

If we accept responsibility for our actions, our relationship with the planet and our obligations to all people, then our passions should be to fulfil our human RESPONSIBILITIES. There would be no need to defend human RIGHTS.

(c) 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Online at www.empressgallery.com

Living in the Now

I am reading the book The Power of Now, a gift from my magic leprechaun, Harry Willis.

I am trying to incorporate the wisdom of the book into my life. Every day. Every moment.

I've been thinking about learning a new language.

So if I am living in the now, I only have to learn the present tense verbs, right?

I should be fluent in no time!

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

The Power of Now

When I was in Ireland a few years ago, I met a real, live leprechaun. His name is Harry Willis and he is the founder and owner of Cosmic Sounds.

Harry is a charming man in his very late seventies or early eighties. He has a full head of shocking white and very long hair. He moves quickly, speaks quickly, thinks quickly.

Last year I was in England and ran into Harry Willis at a hotel in London. I quickly reintroduced myself. "You don't have to tell me who you are," he said. "I could never forget your beautiful face."

Before I could catch my breath, he added:

"Michelle, there's a book you need to read," he said. "It's called The Power of Now and it will transform your life."

I told Harry that I would remember to look for the book.

And then I promptly forgot.

Two weeks ago I met Harry Willis again, this time in the south of France.

After an affectionate greeting, Harry immediately said, "Michelle, you must read the book The Power of Now."

Isn't that odd? I've seen Harry twice in the past 12 months and each time, the moment after we've said hello, he has made the same recommendation. To make sure that I followed up on my promise to read it, Harry brought me a copy of the book the next day.

It is inscribed most beautifully: "To Michelle, with love, light, blessings and healing from above. Harry"

I am devouring this book. Obviously, Harry saw this need in me. What a wise and sensitive leprechaun he is.


(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

Pre-Menstrual, Pre-Menopausal, Pre-Homicidal

I have an extremely stressful job. I've been travelling almost non-stop since last November: China, France, Salt Lake City, UT, New York, NY. I'm under more than a little pressure.

It occurred to me today that everyone is really pissing me off. I exploded in an uncontrollable rage on more than one occasion at the office. Usually when I'm under pressure I can handle it. The people at work never see it; I go home and kick the dog.

Then it hit me! Today I am both premenstrual and premenopausal. Talk about stress! As if one isn't bad enough, I get the privilege of both at the same time!

Now let's add to that -- I've recently been diagnosed with Graves disease (hyperthyroidism).

No wonder I feel like I want to strangle someone - anyone!

I am premenstrual, premenopaual and prehomicidal all at the same time.

*Note to all animal rights activists, please don't write me. I don't really kick the dog. I don't even have a dog. "Kick the dog" is a euphemism for taking it out on my family.

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

Going Postal

Received the following urgent email alert today from CNN:

******************************************************

-----Original Message-----
From: BreakingNews@MAIL.CNN.COM [mailto:BreakingNews@MAIL.CNN.COM]
Sent: Tuesday, January 31, 2006 7:03 AM
To: TEXTBREAKINGNEWS@CNNIMAIL12.CNN.COM
Subject: CNN Breaking News

-- Female ex-employee kills six people, self, in shooting at postal sorting offices in Goleta, California, authorities say.

Watch CNN or log on to http://cnn.com/ and watch FREE video, plus live, commercial-free video with CNN Pipeline. More Americans watch CNN. More Americans trust CNN.

****************************************************

Exactly what is it about working in a post office that makes people go postal? I can't imagine that somehow post office jobs are more stressful than MINE! I work for a record company. We don't bring guns to work and go "record company" do we?

Someone should do a study -- in particular, why postal workers own so many more guns than the general population.

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Online: www.EmpressGallery.com

Shaking Hands with Stupid People

From the news:

Obesity 'Can Be Caught Like A Cold'The Telegraph (UK) ^ 1-31-2006 Roger Highfield
Obesity 'can be caught like a cold'
By Roger Highfield, Science Editor(Filed: 31/01/2006)
Evidence that obesity could be contagious was published yesterday by American researchers - and washing your hands could be an elementary step to avoiding the virus and becoming overweight.

********************************************

I have an uncle who is very large. In fact, he's obese. It breaks my heart to think that people may shun shaking hands with him from some ridiculous fear that they will become obese.

I challenge the research. Unless they can also prove that shaking hands with gays can make you gay.

But then I realized I had enough evidence to publish my own conclusion: the stupid virus explains why there are so many stupid people in the world. Shaking Hands with Stupid People spreads the Stupid Virus. What other explanation do we have for the state of our world?

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

The Great Wall of China

Me and my husband on the Great Wall of China at Mutianyu. You can *hear* how steep it is!

A Robert Munsch-like story

Here's proof that listening to Robert Munsch causes one to start to talk just like him! This is (almost) a true story.

One day, Michelle sent Mark a contract. And Mark said, "I don't like this contract. It has big words and no money and there's a great big strawberry jam blob on it. I won't sign this contract. I won't I won't I won't."

So Michelle rewrote the contract and sent it back to him. When she sent it she said, "I took out all the big words and I added some more money and there was no strawberry jam within 30 kilometers when I printed it. Please sign the contract."

Mark said, "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" But when he opened the contract, he wasn't happy at all. He said, "I don't like this contract. It has my address wrong and there's not enough money and there's little bits of fly poop all over the third page."

So Michelle rewrote the contract again. She fixed the address, she added more money and she took out all the little bits of fly poop one by one. It took her 17 days just to pick out fly poop. She put the contract into an hermetically sealed container, then put it into a super plastic bag from Sobey's (tied it at the top), and then she put it into a GREAT BIG IRON BOX -- it took 37 men just to lift the box onto the truck -- and they drove it to Montreal."

This time when Michelle sent the contract she said, "I fixed your address and I added more money and there's no way a fly could have survived to poop on any page. Please sign the contract."

Mark said, "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" But when the truck arrived at Mark's house, Mark wasn't home. They couldn't deliver the contract -- and even if Mark had been home, they couldn't find 37 men to lift the box out of the truck, so the truck turned around, left Mark's neighbourhood, started driving all around Canada and was never seen again. Mark called Michelle and said, "I never got your contract. Please send it again."

And Michelle said, "This boy is DRIVING ME CRAZY!!! "

So Michelle printed 194 copies of the contract. She tied 38 copies to the leg of a homing pigeon and threw it up into the air. She put 69 copies into the wheel of a Greyhound bus headed east on the 401. She gave 86 copies to her grandma who said that she once knew a boy named Mark Goldman. And she sent the very last copy to Mark by email.

The next day, Mark opened up his email and said "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" Mark's inbox was filling up quickly. Arriving just for him were 320 offers to enlarge his penis, 93 promises to give him a credit card and 22 viruses from friends. There was no email from Michelle. But at the very end of that long list of incoming mail, there was one tiny little message that said, "Did you go to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade?"

And Mark HAD gone to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade. So that was the only email message he opened. The message was from Michelle's grandma and inside the message was a copy of Michelle's contract. The message said, "Hello. If your name is Mark Goldman and you went to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade, then this is for you."

So Mark opened the contract. The address was right and the money was right and there was no strawberry jam or fly poop anywhere near the contract. So he signed it.

And that's the end of that story.

Originally written September 18, 2003

Robert Munsch once wrote a (short) story about me. Really! Click here to read it!

(c) Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

www.empressgallery.com

Can't find work? Here's probably why...

Your resume probably didn’t even pass the first stage of evaluation but your prospective employer may be too kind to let you know why. Here are 12 sure-fire attention-getters to guarantee that you won’t get the gig:

1. Email me from your current employer’s email address.

2. Don’t follow my submission instructions. If I asked for your application via email, make sure that you phone, fax and, especially, show up in person.

3. Use an unprofessional email address (ex. bigdick@yahoo.com).

4. Save your resume with cute or unprofessional file names (ex. shannonstuff.doc). While you’re at it, make sure that you use lots of different font styles, sizes and colors. Make your resume long, a layout nightmare and very difficult to read.

5. Don’t send a cover letter. If you do send a cover letter by mistake, make sure that it’s addressed to “Dear Sir/Madam” even though my name is included in the employment ad. Or save time – just send the cover letter that you addressed to the last application you made.

6. If you choose to ignore rule number five, make at least one spelling mistake in your cover letter and/or resume (ex. “I am recognized for my careful attention to detial.”)

7. Apply for a non-existent job because that’s what you’re really looking for. Or apply for the advertised position but make sure that you have absolutely no qualifications or relevant experience for that position because it’s something that you always wanted to do. (We once had a lumberjack apply for a publicity position. Really!) Another idea: just send out your resume in response to any and all advertisements to fulfill your Employment Insurance quota.

8. Whatever you do, don’t visit our website before submitting your resume. If you actually get away with it, don’t visit our website before your interview. Make sure you know nothing about our company. Not doing simple homework will guarantee that you won’t get the job.

9. Carelessly refer to me (or anyone else in my organization) by the wrong gender. If you are not sure of a person’s gender, assume everyone in business must be a man.

10. Don’t reply to every email you receive from me. If I send you an email thanking you for your application (even if it’s a form letter), please don’t waste your time sending me a quick reply confirming my thank you. Why show that your follow-up is impeccable?

11. Invite me to call you at your current employer’s establishment.

12. Finally, if you actually get so far as to receive a request for an interview, assure me that you can “tell them something to get out of work.” That quickly confirms that you are definitely not the kind of employee I want as part of my team!

Update March 31, 2006: this essay sat untouched for more than 2 years until an interview with a job prospect last week. Here are two more ways to guarantee that you won't get the job:

13. Just prior to your interview, eat two cloves of garlic, bite a large Spanish onion and whatever you do, don't dryclean your suit coat (especially if you're a smoker). (Thanks to Sandy Gardner for those!)

14. Call your former boss "a bitch" during your interview. Why beat around the bush? May as well let me know in advance that you swear like a sailor, have no discretion and talk freely about people behind their backs. Yup, that's just the type of person we want working here, isn't it!?

© 2004, 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Visit online www.empressgallery.com

Inalienable Truths (of the Music Industry)

Some time ago I was asked to be a guest lecturer about my career in the music industry. The music industry today is nothing like it was twenty-five years ago when I joined, and I didn't think my career would be relevant to a bunch of twenty-somethings. Instead I tried to share with them some of the lessons I have learned in this industry. You may find this true, helpful, an insight into my experiences, or just another useless blog in the universe.

Michelle Henderson’s Inalienable Truths (of the Music Industry)

* Always have a goal. Then develop a strategy for achieving your goal.

* Go to where the job is – don’t wait for the job to come to you.

* Be willing to do anything – and stay that way throughout your entire career. Your flexibility will get you farther, guaranteed. Volunteer to work for free if you REALLY want it.

* Think outside the major label box. Where is the future growth of this industry? There are rewarding opportunities at specialty labels all across Canada and the US.

* KNOW your market. Know your audience. Know your customer. Know how the system works. Know every step.

* Sex and drugs may seem enticing, but they are dangerous to your career; if not your life.

* There is no such thing as gender equality. If you are a woman of child-bearing years, you are suspect. When you choose to have a family, you can expect to lose fully three years or more out of your career. Accept it.

* It has taken me 20 years to realize that there is no such thing as balance between family and career. And I’m a Libra. It’s a fallacy; a myth; unless you are working a “job” or are independently wealthy and have a full-time nanny to assist you, you are going to do one or the other better at any given time.

* Don’t accept no for an answer. Challenge, persevere, find creative solutions. Be tenacious (resolute, firm, dogged, persistent, determined – just know the line between stubborn and obstinate)!

* Don’t go to your superior with a problem. Go with suggested solutions.

* Remember that no one has an obligation to teach you anything. If you have a hunger to learn, make sure that people know that you want it, that you’re ready and that you’re willing to commit what is necessary to achieve success. Every teacher wants a hungry student.

* Consider the qualities of the people you most admire and instead of emulating them, incorporate them into who you are – ultimately you will find your own style.

* Make a commitment to life-long learning. The most important investment you will ever make is in yourself.

* You have to be willing to sell a little bit of your soul to succeed in this industry BUT remember that Perception is everything -- so is integrity.

* Be true to yourself. Make sure that you can sleep at night. You may be worried about a problem, but make sure that you’re never worried with a guilty conscience.

* Have a real passion for your job. Love it or leave it and do something that you do love.

* Remember: life is not fair. When you are confronted with this, don't mope...use this to help you avoid similar circumstances in the future.

* Dress the best that you can afford. When you look good, you feel good and when you feel good, you perform better.

* As you progress in your career, learn how to work smarter not harder. Twelve hours a day works when you're young and energetic, but as you gain experience you can accomplish the same results or better with fewer hours and greater quality.

* Be honest...in your relationship with people and your company.....give each 100% of your commitment and integrity.

* Be loyal even though it may be difficult in this day and age of corporate quarterly profits and performance, but if you're lucky enough to find a company with similar loyalty and values, cling to it.

* And the one Inalienable Truth.......the harder I worked the luckier I got.....

(With contributions from Joe Summers, thanks Dad!)

(c) 2002 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe