traitor

I am an American, born and raised. I married a Canadian, born, lived the first few years, then moved to America by his parents. He loves America and knows more about its history and government than most Americans I know. But he remains true to his native country, and has not (and I suspect, will not) relinquished his citizenship.

He's also a sports fan -- particularly of those sports which are integral to Canada. So, last night, when Team Canada won Olympic gold in Men's Curling, he was so excited. I was not only excited for my husband, but also for Canada to win on their home ice.

Tonight, Team Canada did it again! In a great game, they beat the U.S. in Men's Ice Hockey. I was at the store with Ted when the overtime goal was shot, and the look of thrill and pride on his face was priceless. Again, I find myself rooting for Canada, and for the same two reasons. The big difference this time is that they beat my homeland to get gold. Does that make me a traitor? No! It just means that I love my husband, and I'm happy for him.

grateful

The power at both our store and our home was only out for about 12 hours. Although we had to battle the incredibly loud fire system alarm that buzzes continuously when the power is out, call the building manager down at midnight to shut it off, sleep through an increasingly chilly night, and work full days without benefit of hot showers, we survived unscathed. There are still hundreds of thousands of people without power two full days after the storm. I feel so bad for them, and for everyone who lost trees, vehicles, roofs, and more in this monster storm.

i had an excuse, part ii

I would have blogged last night, but my computer was otherwise occupied. And I had planned to write tonight about the events of the last day, but my evening got away from me. So instead, a mere acknowledgement of the fact that we had a storm, it knocked out power, and I'm still not to the point where I'm dedicating a specific amount of time and a real determination to write creatively. Good night.

gah

I didn't know what I was going to blog about tonight. I just figured I would put up another peep-type entry because -- after getting home late from work after a mentally exhausting day -- I spent some time this evening hanging out with my husband, chatting with my nephew and an old school friend online, and planning to go to bed early. But then I started to watch this video, and I can't stop, and it's making me shake because it's frustrating as hell.

Props to Marianne Kirby and Crystal Renn for being eloquent and moderately patient in the face of MeMe Roth (no link because she's bat-crazy and should not have the national stage that she gets, so she's not getting any more exposure from my three readers). And Kim Benson, who I'd never heard of before now, and who started off being fairly innocuous in the glow of her recent successful weight loss, but who has grown increasingly MeMe-like as the conversation has progressed. (No link for her, either.)

I should have gone to bed an hour ago. And this video is still going. And I can't turn the damnable thing. OH! And I'm so glad I didn't because Marianne just stated something so beautifully, I feel compelled to quote her.

"I feel like we keep trying to re-frame it as a 'if we're concerned about health, why aren't we talking about actual indicators of health?' And the answer is, 'it's not really about health.'"

Huzzah! She goes on:

"We want to frame it as health because we're progressives and because we genuinely care about the health of people. But I don't believe that looking at a fat person and judging them immediately as unhealthy without knowing anything about their actual health, their lifestyle, (or) their choices... I don't think that any of that actually has anything to do with a concern about their health. It has to do about the way we think about bodies in our society."

Huzzah, again! More, more, more:

"If we want to talk about health, let's talk about health. And let's not use weight as the sole indicator."

OK, enough of quoting. TR, if I haven't told you before, I love you. And I thank you for carrying the torch when so many of us haven't made the time to truly turn on the activism gene.

And with that, nerves jangled, muscles tensed, and nearly two hours later, time for sleep.

i had an excuse

Someday, I'll fix my father's obituary. You see, like so many other people in the same situation, I had only a couple days to write it. And although he had been in ill health for many years, and the underlying fear of his eventual passing was always somewhere in my mind, I made no attempt to prepare for writing about his life when the time came.

And so, in my fresh grief, I struggled to celebrate him, the amazing person that he was, and all of his accomplishments. First, trying to include them all. Then trying to edit them to a reasonable length.* All while my head physically hurt from crying for 24 hours straight, getting 45 minutes of sleep, repeatedly questioning every decision I'd made in the previous 10 days, and realizing that two decades' worth of anticipation of death doesn't lessen the impact.

But I need to give this task more time, concentration, and effort in order to effectively right the wrongs I perpetrated in the original. And so for now, I simply say, it needs amendment. Amplification. And a thought process not pickled in sadness. I hope that day comes sometime soon.

* Some other day, when I'm not experiencing a moment of loss, I'll discuss the travesty that is being required to pay (a lot) for newspapers to run obituaries. I don't care how poorly your publishing business is going -- obituaries are a matter of public record. And everyone's life deserves to be acknowledged, whether or not their surviving family members have any money at all.

how faint the tune

I snapped this picture as I was leaving work Friday night.


And now, some Ella Fitzgerald -- a stunning talent and one of my favorite songs.

it's everywhere

The other day, I blogged about a random heart posted on a tree by the side of the road. Today, I found another.

This one, a simple heart nearly filling every inch of a regular piece of paper and stapled to a telephone pole. I parked in a nearby lot to walk over to it and take a photo, when I realized that it was at the end of Love Lane. How sweet.

I walked back to my car and was turning around to leave when I found another heart on another pole. Thinking there might be something to it, I decided to drive up Love Lane. Lo and behold, each telephone pole on the street had two or three hearts pinned to it. Both sides of the road. From one end to the other. The last house before the street ended, had a giant heart painted on it and lots of little hearts carved into the porch banisters.

I didn't take any more pictures, as it was a small neighborhood, and my parked car and camera-ready wandering might be disruptive. But it was kinda' cool.

flashback

This is me in 1983.


And my date, Bob. Cute, weren't we? Senior corn roast at my high school (that's a can of soda pop being lifted). It was a fun night. After the corn roast, we went to the movies to see Mr. Mom. But it was sold out, so instead we saw Jaws 3-D. That epic was so bad, we laughed our way through it. When it was over, we drove an hour to the ocean to look for Jaws in person. It was a late night getting home, but it was a blast.

I just found Bob again thanks to a certain social networking site. He commented on the status of a mutual friend from our home town, so I sent him a note. By the next day, we were reminiscing about life a quarter century ago. Ain't technology grand?

third time's a charm?

Nope. Another day with a pathetic blog entry. And this weekend's super busy. Not looking much better. Oh well!

quoting britney spears

Oops, I did it again. Still need to get my head around this daily blogging thing. Maybe by the end of the year, I'll be better at it. Here, watch a nice video. Actually this is the first time I've seen the video. But I really like the song.

oops

I was supposed to write something today, wasn't I? Bad me.

still snowing

It's cold out here in the living room, and I don't want to turn the heat up. I also need to wake up early to (once again) brush snow off my car and shovel out around it. I know we've had it relatively easy this winter. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to complain when a foot of snow finally falls. Cranky in my old age.

So, off to bed to solve both those issues. Good night.