tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22171860021675687162024-03-16T05:16:53.101-04:00Julia NadonOccasional ukulele, guitar, and a long neck dulcimer player, ravenous reader, kayak paddler, monarch raising gardener, meditative swimmer, zealous scribbler, songwriter, casual poet, photographer, lifelong learner, and curious educator.
Taking daily steps towards simplicity, peace and creativity.
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-16377631464752774122019-03-07T10:46:00.000-05:002019-03-07T10:46:16.963-05:00Day 33 of mourning<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
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Today is Day 33 of mourning. As of Tuesday things started to shift. I started feeling comforted. I declared yesterday, Day 32, as the day that I chose to engage in life and stop actively searching for a way to do myself in so that I could join Jacques faster.</div>
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Pretty much every time I'd google painless ways to die, Jacques's sister would either call me or arrive at the door asking "What are you up to?" as I'd quickly close the window on my Ipad.</div>
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I'm slowly moving towards Hope and inching away from Despair. I would do anything to get Jacques back, but I know that if he were still alive, he would still be sick, in agony and in mourning over the active life he'd led before he got ill. I would not wish that on anyone, certainly not on the Love of my life. </div>
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I knew that in order to start the healing process that I would have to accept that he got sick, so sick that we couldn't do anything to save him from passing. I'm still angry and sad at how much pain he had to endure. I never knew such pain was possible before. I knew that Life wasn't fair before all of this. His illness hammered that fact home.</div>
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I still haven't cancelled Jacques' cell phone, I'm paying Virgin in the hopes that he'll still call me. He's reaching out to me in other ways. He's even getting creative. I can just see him laughing at me. </div>
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I can finally look at photos of him and smile without going into tearful convulsions every time.</div>
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Have a wonderful day!</div>
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xoox</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-40671152875939260662019-03-01T10:05:00.001-05:002019-03-01T10:05:48.804-05:00Grief brainJust finished reading How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies by Therese A. Rando, one of many books which have been lent to me. It has helped me from going insane, on many days. Mostly, I thank my family, friends, colleagues, ex colleagues and the community for offering hugs, love and kind words. Still. Almost 4 weeks have gone by. Life goes on for everyone else, not for the mourner. Not yet. Maybe some day. Still unimaginable.<br />
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If you’ve never experienced grief, you are blessed.<br />
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Here’s a peek into a grief stricken brain. If you’re wondering how to act or what to say to someone who is in mourning: hugs, condolences even days/weeks following loved one’s death, attention, active listening, soup, cookies, any kind of food (It’s hard to eat or even swallow when in mourning and eating alone sucks), quicks calls and texts especially after dark can save a mourner from doing foolish things, invitations for outings even if the mourner isn’t ready, encouragement without platitudes. Please don’t say “Take care of yourself”. The last thing that a mourner is concerned about on dark days is their own well being. If you’re uncomfortable with words, remember soup and cookies always express love.<br />
Be well.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-60229542572367450022019-02-26T07:21:00.001-05:002019-02-26T07:21:35.760-05:00Venus in the daytime @ original song by Julia Nadon<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Aj98683QiRU" width="480"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-52385415883511861792019-02-23T21:21:00.003-05:002019-02-23T21:24:21.786-05:00Jacques Pepin, Feb 21, 1946- Feb 2, 2019<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Jacques walked or cycled twice a day and worked out almost every day for over 35 years. He was a popular highschool teacher who retired at 54 in 2000. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">He was very disciplined, intelligent with dry dead pan humour and a sense of fun. He and Dad used to tease me when we all lived together. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;"> Jacques considered me in all of his decisions. He made sure that everything was always taken care of for me. He oversaw the house renovations turning this old house in a beautiful, warm, haven. He ran the the household. He took care of the cars, made sure they were full of gas, well maintained and always washed and waxed. He moved the lawn and kept the shrubs and trees pruned. Our yard is beautiful. He would surprise me by putting up the Christmas decorations magically turning on the lights with a wireless switch in his pocket as we’d come home from an evening walk. He’d get up early, warm the car and drive me two blocks to work in the winter months just because he wanted to spoil me. I’m just realizing now to what extent. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">After 15 months of a progressive nightmare in which he gradually lost his independence and autonomy, his suffering is finally over. He'd never had an operation in his life until last May and then he had too many to count since then, the final two ending with complete amputation of his toes which really means the front of both of his feet. He was in horrible pain before and incredible pain afterwards.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">We’d planned for a full recovery with rehabilitation. He was determined to learn to walk again, to cycle and to mow our lawn. I was sure he’d get through due to his legendary stubbornness . I’d promised him that if we needed to change our activities, we’d find a new normal. If we couldn’t cycle anymore, we’d go for car rides and pick nicks. We’d adjust. We’d be okay.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">He’d been hospitalized since mid November except for a brief difficult stay at home during the holidays where he was in indescribable pain and got weaker and weaker. Caring for him adequately, and insuring his safety became increasingly difficult.He stopped eating and drinking. He must have envisioned a bleak future. I called the ambulance on January 9th and he never came home. He knew it. I didn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">He was born in a tiny house on Rue Notre-Dame in Montebello and I brought him back to Montebello for palliative care which is situated on the ground floor of an old convent at 532 Notre-Dame where we shared our first apartment almost a quarter of a century ago and where he’d lived as a bachelor for many years. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">A couple of weeks ago, he’d told me that he no longer had a link to Montebello. He’d been in the hospital so long. Losing his link to our home must have hurt. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">His speech and voice got more and more difficult to understand in the last 2 weeks. I’d revert to a few moments of FaceTime when I was home so we could see each other. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">From the moment we brought him back for palliative care, I only left for a quick few minutes to go home 2 blocks away to get what I needed for the night.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">The people at Le Monarque are angels. I knew he didn’t want to suffer and they made sure he didn’t. We were surrounded by friends and family that last evening and then left alone. He passed away peacefully as I kissed him and reminded him how much I love him and would always love him. I told him it was okay to go, that we’d be okay. He and I, we’d be okay. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">My heart is broken. We’d rewritten our will a few years ago, if I died, if he died, if we died together, which is really what I would have wished for. His mom had lived into her 90’s and I honestly thought that he would outlive me. We’d planned for this hypothetical day but I didn’t think it would come for years. He was more than 16 and a half years my senior, but so in shape. He was always better at me in every sport. Faster, stronger, more graceful. In board games, I’d teach him how to play only to have him beat me on our first game.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Spike, my first cat, didn’t like men in general. Way back when, I’d told Jacques to be careful of Spike when a few seconds later, the cat and climbed onto him and settled down to sleep Jacques’ chest. Jacques looked at me with a smirk. Spike told me that this was a good man. And he was honest, with a code of honour and integrity, generous, with a tough, crusty exterior and a gooey, romantic interior. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">I don’t remember him buying cut flowers, but we used to have an old pick up truck and go choose flowers and shrubs for the yard. We planted trees and hedges together in the rain. He always bought me chocolates from La Chocolaterie on Valentine’s Day and on my birthday.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;"> Most of the time, I’d rather spend a quiet evening with him than go to some party. He enjoyed tv, I liked reading books. He was a homebody. Sometimes I needed brief escapes. I used to imagine that he’d begrudged these outings. I realized that it was just that he’d worry about me until I got home. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">We had our differences. We were both strong willed and we sometimes clashed. Dad who lived with us in our family home for almost two years before he passed, told us to always resolved our differences before going to sleep each night. And we did. We never married but we always reaffirmed our love for each other every morning, noon and night and in between.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">When we had bad arguments, he’d always resort to saying he was going back to live at the old convent where he’d had his bachelor’s 1 bedroom apartment so many years ago.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;"> Life is so strange. The regional palliative care unit is set up in the old convent’s ground floor and is called Le Monarque. As soon as the doctor at the hospital explained that his heart had stopped, that he’d stopped breathing and they’d brought him back with CPR, and that we were at the palliative care stage </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt; text-decoration: underline;">Friday afternoon</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">, I immediately asked that he be transferred to le Monarque. He was brought back by </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt; text-decoration: underline;">4 pm</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">. He passed away sometime between midnight and twelve thirty. I’d taken off my glasses and didn’t want to leave his side to alert anyone or check the time. He always wanted to know the time. It wasn’t important anymore. Nothing is important anymore. Nothing will be to me for a long time. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Time stopped for both of us.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">I thanked him for surviving long enough for me to be with him when he passed. I couldn’t have gone on living if I hadn’t been with him. Diane, his sister, rejoined me </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt; text-decoration: underline;">at 6:30</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;"> in the morning to wait for the doctor to confirm the death and for his body to be taken away. There was a bad snowstorm and he was finally taken away </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt; text-decoration: underline;">around 3pm</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">I went home where Vincent and Liliane were waiting for me with our cat, Souris. They stayed until I started to get sleepy. Diane checked in on me by phone and Messenger. She’s 3 blocks away. I could have had someone stay the night, but I decided to stay alone with Souris. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Not really alone. I chose to believe that Jacques will be close by.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Souris is now trying to get my attention. It’s </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt; text-decoration: underline;">2:33 am</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Jacques was ill and dying back in 2001 and 2002 and he got better. Never as buff, but strong again. I developed anxiety and OCD fearful that this day would come. Despite the last 15 months, I didn’t see it coming. I kept hoping that we’d get another miracle. Seeing him suffer so, I prayed for the best outcome. I must accept his death and go on even though right now, I’d rather he come and get me. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">I started writing a few lines because I’m awake in the middle of the night, but in writing I’ve always found Truth. Choosing to share my life with Jacques brought me home and has provided me with a life filled with friends, family and community. They will support me when all I want to do is dig a hole and stay there, feed me when I won’t take care of myself and encourage me to choose life even if I feel like I want to join the dead. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Jacques didn’t want a funeral or anything. I’ve decided to honour his wishes. It became clear to me while I spent my final hours with him, that I want to bring him home. His place is with me here. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">I think I’ll plant a tree. Something strong and beautiful like him. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 19.6px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Thank you for reading.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Xxoo</span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 17pt;">Julia</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-26513367118995484842018-08-17T11:50:00.003-04:002018-08-17T11:50:54.838-04:0055 and 10 months and I can still dive!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz5yTiVTfkzTPXhRR3vFbqZKsGyQIRH5OHWwAdKEDW2WyPUNIPOu_6rJIiD0fOGUV5ih9SCo8gZw1VxKMlffQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Am I full of myself because I asked the lifeguard to film me as I dove off the board? I don't think so, I just wanted to have something to remind that at 55 plus, I could still do something I did when I was young. My intention is to still be able to do this dive at 80 and swim as many lengths.<br />
<br />
Let me put this in context. I was afraid to swim when I was little. David M. who was a year older than me, showed me how to put my face in the water at la "barbotteuse". In the middle up close to the fountain, the wading pool was just deep enough for little kids to learn to swim underwater. I must have been 5 or 6, but I can still remember being able to propel myself underwater. It gave me such a feeling of freedom. That was the 60's and I don't remember there being a lifeguard at "la barbotteuse".Times change. It's been replaced by a much safer splash pad where there is no water accumulation.<br />
<br />
Swimming lessons were given in the mornings at the municipal pool that you see in this video, just down the street and around the corner from my house. Imagine being a skin and bones little kid weighing in at most 50 pounds and waiting your turn on the side of the pool in the shade of the tall trees before the sun has risen high enough in the sky to warm your little body. I couldn't take the shivering. Me and my blue lips quit swimming lessons and didn't learn to swim at the surface. I was okay with that. I could swim under water, anyway!<br />
<br />
In high school, just as my volleyball season had come to and end, some students pleaded with me to sign up for swimming lessons. It wasn't that they wanted me in particular, they just needed one more person so that the course would be given. Our local high school has an indoor pool. No more shivering in the shade! I took a succession of courses and became a lifeguard at 16.<br />
<br />
Back then, the pay sucked, but I loved being outside. My best friend had a well-paying job in the dining room of the resort hotel, but I loved the water and no amount of money could make me give up lifeguarding. I even loved the boredom of the cool, rainy days.<br />
<br />
Swimming has always been there for me. It's a way to stay in shape (I know that I shouldn't have worn a 2 piece bathing suit in this video, but it was what was hanging on the clothesline when I decided to dash and do a few dives before the pool closed yesterday! At 55, I'm beyond caring!) and it's a way to calm myself and meditate.<br />
<br />
I don't train in shape in the summer months. I splash around like the little kid I still am inside. I let myself play in the water with whoever wants to humour me. September is coming and I'll be back to lap swimming indoors soon enough. Until the outdoor pool closes Sunday, let me do a few more dives and cannonballs!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-16920977186123962702018-01-04T18:43:00.002-05:002018-01-04T18:43:53.547-05:00My mom’s death when I was still in my 20's was the defining event of my young adult life.<div class="graf" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">My
mom’s death when I was still in my 20's was the defining event of my young
adult life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="22aa" name="22aa" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Not moving to two different cities to get my education.
Not getting my degrees. Not success in different areas. Not my travels. Not
even living with a man, despite his bigger than life personality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="5507" name="5507" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">There’s before and there is after Mom’s death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="58ff" name="58ff" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I still remember the phone call in the staff room at the
school where I taught. My mom told me she had cancer. Generalized. She’d waited
too long to see the doctor. She didn’t want any treatment. She had maybe 3
months left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="180e" name="180e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I was in shock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="8e4b" name="8e4b" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">At some point, Mom and I started believing that she
would miraculously be cured or live with this condition for years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="4995" name="4995" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">So, I joined a tennis club in the city thinking I’d need
someway to occupy the long summer break if I didn’t take a summer course. Yup,
my mom was dying and I thought I’d be playing tennis to pass the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="833f" name="833f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">The club got my money, but I never showed up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="a398" name="a398" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I spent the summer driving the triangle between the city
where I lived, the hospital where mom was dying in a small Ontario border town
and our tiny Quebec village where my childhood home was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="79f4" name="79f4" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I’d drive back to the city to care for my cat and meet
up with friends and my
then-off-and-on-no-longer-live-in-boyfriend-soon-to-be-permanently-ex.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="4a79" name="4a79" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">My mind was spinning overtime. I’d scream in the car. <span class="markup--quote"><span data-creator-ids="826724ce8c31" name="9c1e1faed918" style="background-image: linear-gradient(rgba(12, 242, 143, 0.2), rgba(12, 242, 143, 0.2)); cursor: pointer; transition: background-color 0.2s;">I’d
imagine turning the wheel sharply and diving into the river far below the
bridge but I knew that I’d be hurting everyone I loved. So, I kept the wheels
straight.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="fe22" name="fe22" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">The only time that my mind would shut up back then was
if I’d had too much to drink or if I was shooting pool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="7d38" name="7d38" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I shot pool in the city and in the village. I shot pool
in billiards rooms and in seedy bars. I played not for money, but to run the
table. I played government clerks, bankers and drug dealers. I got to be really
good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="79af" name="79af" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When lining up a series of shots, my mind would become
still and calm if only for a few blissful seconds. It was a balm for all the
parts of me which were crying in pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="e25d" name="e25d" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Day after day when a visiting a dying loved one,
conversation can become awkward. She hated when someone would walk into her
room and ask her how she was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="159e" name="159e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">One day, I brought music books to the hospital. I
wheeled Mom to the music room. She played the piano and we sang and harmonized
as if we were on holiday in the Laurentians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="55a2" name="55a2" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Another time, I brought in very old family photo albums.
We’re taking early 1900 to mid 20th century. Mom had emigrated from the
American south. If we didn’t identify ancestors in the photos, there’d be
nobody north of the border who could. We managed to do a few albums before she
got tired. We’d do the rest next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="c89f" name="c89f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Mom had nausea and found meal times at the hospital the
worst. Who wouldn’t? Dad and I took turns to be with her for lunch and dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="668a" name="668a" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I’d never heard of meal replacements drinks. That’s what
they gave her when she stopped eating. As if she could build up strength and
what? Live?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="b23c" name="b23c" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I’d never heard of palliative care before. Mom wasn’t
getting better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="e5aa" name="e5aa" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I soon lost my appetite, too. I bought chocolate
flavoured Boost meal replacement drinks by the case. For me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="74a5" name="74a5" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Things took a turn for the worse when I had to go back
to work at the end of the summer. I walked into my principal’s office one
Monday at lunch after downing a couple of Boosts and told him that I needed to
be with my Mom and I had no idea when I’d be back. He said “Go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="fab3" name="fab3" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">That night, a nurse found me on the floor on the far
side of Mom’s room. I must have felt that the end was coming. They wheeled in a
cot and a blanket for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="405f" name="405f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Alma, a kindly nurse from Newfoundland, would sneak in
meals for me. She once rushed in apologizing for having been too busy as she
handed me all she could find so late at night: a piece of pecan pie. It had
been one of mom’s favourite. Relatives from Georgia used to send us boxes of
pecans before Christmas so Mom could bake pies. She was drifting in and out of
consciousness, but she would have enjoyed the coincidence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="113e" name="113e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I’d lied to Mom all summer that he and I were no longer
seeing each other. I made the definite and final break-up call to my ex from a
pay phone down the hall from her room. He wanted something I could no longer
give. Time and attention. My reserves were empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="24d8" name="24d8" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">That last week, with her eyes closed and morphine shots
kicking in, Mom would babble in slurred bursts. I’d grab my notebook and
scribble everything I thought she said. I needed her wisdom. I still needed my
mom. She was slipping away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="d79c" name="d79c" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When she stopped talking altogether and fell into a
coma, I sang to her softly. I read her favourite psalms. She was a devout
evangelical Christian.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="deb3" name="deb3" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I still wonder why I didn’t lose my faith right then and
there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="3d41" name="3d41" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">It would take another 10 years and my Dad’s sudden death
for that to happen. With faith gone, anxiety had room to take hold of me. But
that’s another post.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="8c5e" name="8c5e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Mom’s breathing became more and more laboured. My best
friends, my Dad, my brother and sister-im-law all came to see her Saturday,
September 21st, 1991. When they’d all left, I sat by her bed, holding her hand
and timing the seconds between each shallow breath. Sadly, it never occurred to
me until now that I could have climb into bed with her and held her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="f70e" name="f70e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">All of a sudden she took a deep breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="c03f" name="c03f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">And then, there was nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="e8cc" name="e8cc" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">After many months and then all of a sudden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="5300" name="5300" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<em style="font-feature-settings: "liga" 1, "salt" 1;"><span lang="FR-CA" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: FR-CA;">Ma mère n’était plus là</span></em><span lang="FR-CA" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: FR-CA;">. </span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">She was no longer there.
Her presence was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="7e2e" name="7e2e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I rang the station. A nurse came. She confirmed what I
suspected, what I feared, what I already knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="7dee" name="7dee" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">She said that I had to wait for a doctor to confirm her
death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="caf7" name="caf7" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">As I waited, I looked at my mom’s ravaged body and
realized that it was a shell. A vessel which had contained an incredible
spirit. A daring and talented woman with a booming laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="fbbc" name="fbbc" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">A woman who’d lived alone on a sailboat, then on a tiny
island with her dog, Tricky. A woman who’d moved to Puerto Rico after WW2. A
women who came to Quebec on vacation and stayed on to see snow. Falling in love
with our village, then with my father. A strict mother who made every kid and
teenager we called friends feel welcome and loved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="1c71" name="1c71" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">A mother who set aside her own dreams, like many before
and since, to raise us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="95fe" name="95fe" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I felt like an orphan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="4b5e" name="4b5e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I called my Dad. My brother answered. I was the baby of
the family announcing the death of our mom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="64d0" name="64d0" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Despite her death being far from sudden, no one had
contacted an undertaker. The nurse informed me, that I needed to empty her
room. Only when I’d left the hospital, would they remove her from the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="dfa5" name="dfa5" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">So, I went to work silently and alone in the room where
my mom’s body lay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="e91f" name="e91f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Things accumulate in hospital rooms. Unworn clothing,
nightgowns, gifts and other personal things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="44de" name="44de" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I returned to the nurses’ station and asked for a pair
of scissors and an envelope. I never told anyone before now, but I snipped a
lock of her soft white hair. The same hair, I’ve now inherited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="20e0" name="20e0" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">There was only one thing left that I could not bring
myself to carry home. Her pillow. It would have meant lifting her head to
retrieve it. And, yet, when I finally arrived home that night and unpacked her
suitcase, it’s the one question I can still hear my dad asking: “Where’s her
pillow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="3c08" name="3c08" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I started to explain that it would have meant
lifting her head to retrieve it, he cut me off to say that it was okay. He’d
had no idea that mom was still in the room as I gathered her things one last
time. And he realized what I’d had to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="b75e" name="b75e" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">What so many others have had to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="65d1" name="65d1" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">After her funeral, I’d walk to her grave late at night
trying to feel close to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="764d" name="764d" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Her doctor had predicted 3 months. She made it to five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="7a49" name="7a49" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Within months, I accepted a position which would take me
a continent away from everyone I knew for 3 years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="5508" name="5508" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">A few years after my return, I ended up taking over our
family home in the quaint little village.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="39c4" name="39c4" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I rarely, if ever go to the cemetery now. I feel close
to my parents when I smell the moist earth as I tend the flower beds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="3b6a" name="3b6a" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I observe birds at the feeders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="5247" name="5247" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I prepare one of their favourite recipes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="adeb" name="adeb" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I sit at Mom’s upright and play one of her
signature songs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="a18f" name="a18f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I enjoy the view from the home they’d named
Hillview House.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="b38d" name="b38d" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I come upon something noteworthy that I’d like to
share with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="f0dd" name="f0dd" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">When I choose to see beauty in every day life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="37b5" name="37b5" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">I haven’t been near a pool hall or a seedy bar in
decades, yet I’ve found ways to still my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="a4f3" name="a4f3" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Journalling, swimming, playing musical instruments,
reading, hiking, kayaking, nordic skiing, snowshoeing, forest bathing in all
seasons, writing, composing music, drawing, gardening, cooking from scratch,
building things, and being grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="696a" name="696a" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">We all have defining moments. If we live long enough,
we’ll have many of them. Some highs and some lows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="791d" name="791d" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Mom’s death is now, 26 years later, one of my life’s
defining moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="c5c4" name="c5c4" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">May we choose to straighten our wheels, survive and
learn from all of the moments which amount to our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-76248617316186121172018-01-04T18:41:00.002-05:002018-01-04T18:41:48.186-05:006 things I wish I knew at age 24<div class="graf" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">6
things I wish I knew at age 24<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="ddfa" name="ddfa" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">1. Not everything lasts forever and nothing is
guaranteed, so take nothing for granted. Youth, looks, health, jobs, hair
colour, gorgeous legs, friendships, colleagues, easy money, being nimble on
your toes, energy, sanity, independance, and insouciance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="d6ca" name="d6ca" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">No matter what you lose or what you gain, be grateful
every step along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="e192" name="e192" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">2. Keep on learning. Be it by trial and error, reading,
asking thoughtful questions, shutting up and listening without interruption,
taking a course, giving a course, shooting the breeze or watching how to
videos. Your brain is malleable. You can train it to learn new things and you
can retrain to break bad habits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="463a" name="463a" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">3. Sometimes, life kicks you in the head. You can get
through it, survive and thrive. Surround yourself with people who will lift you
up. Lean in to your feelings now. Yes, right now. I know it hurts. Bad.
Stuffing them down will inevitably lead to worse things later on down the road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="643b" name="643b" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Peaks and valleys make up the journey. Straight roads
are numbingly boring. The view is beautiful from a summit. Ascensions from deep
valleys are where you forge character and empathy for others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="9520" name="9520" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">4. Learn to be authentically you as soon as you can.
When we are young, we want to fit in. Learn to embrace your quirkiness now.
It’s what makes you you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="86bf" name="86bf" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">Develop your passions however odd they may seem. They
hold the key to your uniqueness and success. You’ll eventually find or create
your own tribe of wonderful weirdos whether face to face or online.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="d163" name="d163" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">5. Take care of yourself. A life of experimentation and
excess is fun and easy to bounce back from in your twenties, but if you want to
be in it for the long haul, manage all of your resources wisely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="21bf" name="21bf" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">A. By all means, have fun, but learn to spend wisely and
make saving a priority. Learning to live well beneath your means and you’ll
always be rich because you will have the power to make choices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="c2b1" name="c2b1" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">B. Give up your vices. They’re bad for your physical and
mental health and a strain on your finances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="3880" name="3880" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">C. Eat well. Learn to cook from scratch a.s.a.p., brown
bag it and invite friends over instead of eating out 3 meals a day. It’s
cheaper and healthier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="d97f" name="d97f" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">D. Move your body. Preferably outside. Find an activity
that you enjoy and if you’re so inclined, find others who enjoy the same thing. <span class="markup--quote"><span data-creator-ids="826724ce8c31" name="63fcb110f1f3" style="background-image: linear-gradient(rgba(12, 242, 143, 0.2), rgba(12, 242, 143, 0.2)); cursor: pointer; transition: background-color 0.2s;">You’ll
be in shape and make new friends. Plus, there’s accountability in numbers. It’s
harder to slouch on the sofa if there are folks waiting for you to go play
outside.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="graf" id="43c5" name="43c5" style="--baseline-multiplier: 0.17; background: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.84); margin: 18.15pt 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt;">6. Life is stranger than fiction. My 24 year old self
could not have drawn the storyboard of how my life has turned out a quarter of
a century later. Go ahead, make plans, but stay open to serendipity and
surprise opportunities. And go for it when that still small voice whispers “Go
for it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-55391816513874724712018-01-04T18:40:00.001-05:002018-01-04T18:40:32.469-05:00Colder than a witch’s t!t<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: -1.65pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.4pt; mso-outline-level: 1;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 26.5pt; letter-spacing: -.2pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Colder than a
witch’s t!t<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">My ex had a way with words.
I haven’t seen him since 1992, but with this week’s record breaking cold snap,
that phrase came to the forefront of my mind as I walked around the village all
bundled up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I live in rural Quebec on
the Ottawa River between Ottawa and Montreal. Wednesday, with an overnight
temperature of -29 C or-20 F, Ottawa was the coldest capital in the world! We
beat Reykjavik, Moscow and Nuuk (I had to look it up. It’s in Greenland.)We even
beat in Mongolia’s capital Ulan Bator which is on average the coldest capital
in the world. They had a balmy</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">—</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">26 C
or -14 F the very same night.</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">This ol’ witch ain’t
complaining.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I pull on long underwear
and warm socks first thing in the morning. I harden myself by going out at
least twice a day, despite the cold and the wind. Sometimes, all you can see
when you meet others are their eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">We Northerners have a
tendency to recognize each other by our winter clothing and our gait as we
approach one another. If you want to confuse the villagers and venture out
incognito, just your switch your coats, tuques and scarves and walk funny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">So how do we embrace the
cold? By playing outside! Make sure you dress in layers. Wear wool, polar
fleece, or acrylic near your skin, but always avoid cotton. Cover up with
appropriate outer layers that work against the wind and precipitation which can
fall as snow, sleet or freezing rain. Pull on warm winter boots and strap on
ice cleats if there’s even a remote chance you might end up ar$e over tea
kettle (Yes, another one of my ex’s expressions).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">We lose 50% of body heat
through our head. Come to think of it, that’s a good way to let off steam if
something has got you upset!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">If you want to be warm, you
have to live with a months-long condition called hat head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I love funky knit hats with
a polar fleece interior. Ear flaps are good but seem to be out of style around
here this year. I’m way too frugal to rush out and get the newer vintage
looking knit hat with big pompoms. Meh!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Move your body! Find a
winter sport that you can embrace alone or with friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">If you are engaged in
something active like Nordic skiing or snowshoeing, you tend to heat up and
cool down depending on the terrain (up and down hills, the cover of forests, wind-smacked
open fields, frozen lakes and rivers).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">When I go for off for more
than an hour, I always bring a light knap sack with spare warm mitts, socks, a
face mask, water, chocolate or energy bars, a whistle, small first aid kit, lip
balm, matches or lighter, and enough room to stuff my packable puffy jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Yes, it’s cold out there!
Colder than normal. I’m posting this and then heading out to ski.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 18.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; letter-spacing: -.05pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Want to come out and play?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-88508065550810590512017-01-26T21:03:00.001-05:002017-09-24T19:48:27.345-04:00My Wolfelele trilele<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHh7evNv6cS9FSnXXZB5kVfAvB05DoA0wI9glhUhMg-nWbNbKNBzSNub7YTN2nsJBzgkjthjIy1dMvsry9hBhIHNDA48Epd_pmUc7V9JnX5LEgFNluCFAh4yuJcLHuO8ayFEMYDClwuGXO/s640/blogger-image--1121951870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHh7evNv6cS9FSnXXZB5kVfAvB05DoA0wI9glhUhMg-nWbNbKNBzSNub7YTN2nsJBzgkjthjIy1dMvsry9hBhIHNDA48Epd_pmUc7V9JnX5LEgFNluCFAh4yuJcLHuO8ayFEMYDClwuGXO/s320/blogger-image--1121951870.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com65tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-52530381544328092242017-01-26T21:02:00.001-05:002017-09-24T19:48:49.014-04:00Doll dresser makeover<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7LMQDFgPG33G7NV3sOkeFaDig2w1jQIuYpZ_D5LLhQ_zpBStFvB_uHfM3DBXL99pOHu2m-8JPWcx-Zek5awbs10HYVyKglqKwOPyYPbKpJs-RioPTWrKrZFuQfYmhYK6YiD11poj4Yhn0/s640/blogger-image--1921764403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7LMQDFgPG33G7NV3sOkeFaDig2w1jQIuYpZ_D5LLhQ_zpBStFvB_uHfM3DBXL99pOHu2m-8JPWcx-Zek5awbs10HYVyKglqKwOPyYPbKpJs-RioPTWrKrZFuQfYmhYK6YiD11poj4Yhn0/s320/blogger-image--1921764403.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-25876325398647399052017-01-26T21:01:00.001-05:002017-01-26T21:01:11.391-05:00Newest ukulele Sharpie doodle<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6Ql2fiJfDosn6LAuTcqISrPeUANrqORJ1V7JKTmW-x2X8Oteb_dvBhq_dB4ljJ1ogOCwgVOHWtxrsrmvMQcYHdssyShdzUaVizGPgd2tS_4zfSy-L45CpgyTsRMgQ5kPg45lM2V-g25H/s640/blogger-image--713788061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6Ql2fiJfDosn6LAuTcqISrPeUANrqORJ1V7JKTmW-x2X8Oteb_dvBhq_dB4ljJ1ogOCwgVOHWtxrsrmvMQcYHdssyShdzUaVizGPgd2tS_4zfSy-L45CpgyTsRMgQ5kPg45lM2V-g25H/s640/blogger-image--713788061.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-22278269585568941492016-08-21T16:03:00.001-04:002016-08-21T16:52:08.876-04:00Meaty topic<div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dmZffEilkwpDsV7XT7II1CcnTYiCfmaX13wPf-Dd_2glU3uLSZZ456057IjcOunm8IyvrBBsjt2nJTJz81RDF46R8jtb_2LsZZvsB8_NBszO7lYcPWAItj-IC_oisCYsIcAXruxmv2eN/s640/blogger-image-523800609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dmZffEilkwpDsV7XT7II1CcnTYiCfmaX13wPf-Dd_2glU3uLSZZ456057IjcOunm8IyvrBBsjt2nJTJz81RDF46R8jtb_2LsZZvsB8_NBszO7lYcPWAItj-IC_oisCYsIcAXruxmv2eN/s640/blogger-image-523800609.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't want to eat meat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm not following a trend. I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> don't kill living things.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Except maybe flies.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And mosquitoes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I go without meat quite easily at home <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">or in restaurants.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't want to be socially awkward so I occasioanlly eat meat when a guest or prepare meat when acting as a hostess. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And this is where I struggle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">How can I sometimes eat meat? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'll admit that properly prepared and cooked meat tastes great. But, I've never been a big meat eater even when I was a kid. Long before I pondered the ethics, think it's a question of texture and colour. I eat with my eyes and I love vibrant colours in my plate.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I love animals. I am fascinated by the spiritual connection humans can enjoy with animals.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What has lead me to question eating meat in my life? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">1. What I've learned about the meat industry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">2. My love of living things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">3. Not wanting to participate in the suffering of another being.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">4. Staying healthy and as lean as possible despite a slowing metabolism.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Yesterday, I ordered eggs Benedict. Decadently delicious. Then, I realized I was eating ham. I paused a moment before deciding to use mind over matter and to enjoy my meal. I'd totally forgotten there was meat in the dish when I ordered. I wasn't going to let this realization spoil a good meal with friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As things stand, I manage to avoid meat most days out of each month. I don't know if I'll ever be a total vegetarian. I doubt that I'll go vegan. I love cheese, yoghurt and eggs too darn much.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When I saw the photos of the baby animals in an old Oprah magazine, I wanted to cut and paste them in my visual journal for their cuteness. But then the journal page looked blank. I grabbed a pencil and and there went my whole rainy day afternoon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-76801256716430621912016-07-01T09:53:00.001-04:002016-07-01T09:55:48.647-04:00Les jeunes ont besoin de lire de vrais livres/Kids need to read real
books<div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/answer-sheet/wp/2015/10/17/why-kids-still-need-real-books-to-read-and-time-in-school-to-enjoy-them/</span></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>English will follow:</div><div><br></div><div>Afin d'atteindre un niveau de literacie, il faut lire des livres. De bons livres. J'ai reçu 250$ pour acheter de nouveaux livres pour ma Classe Dejulia et j'en suis reconnaissante. Par contre, un roman en français coûte entre 10$-30$ et un album de qualité ou une B.D. coûte entre 20$-35$. En faisant de la recherche et une bonne sélection, j'ai été capable de sortir de la librairie avec 2 sacs de nouveaux livres à partager avec mes 20 élèves sur 10 mois.</div><div><br></div><div>Au Quebec, on change de ministre d'éducation aussi souvent que Tim Horton offre une nouvelle boisson saisonnière (4 ministres en 2 ans dans le gouvernement libéral actuel). C'est difficile d'avoir une vision inspirante au niveau de l'éducation. On a même eu un de nos ministres qui ne voyait pas l'importance de l'achat de livres dans les écoles. </div><div><br></div><div>Voici ma suggestion. Si l'on veut une génération de citoyens engagés qui sont ouverts d'esprit, amoureux de la culture et habiles dans la pensée critique, on se doit de promouvoir la lecture de livres et pour ça, on a besoin d'investir plus de 250$ par groupe-classe par année. </div><div><br></div><div>English:</div><div><br></div><div>I truly believe that literacy comes from reading books. Great books. I had 250$ to buy new books for my class this year. And for that I am grateful. However, a novel in French costs anywhere from 10$-30$ and a good quality picture book or comic book costs anywhere from 20$-35$. By doing hours of research and by being selective, I managed to fill 2 small bags with new books to be shared by 20 kids over 10 months.</div><div><br></div><div>In Quebec, where we change education ministers like Tim Horton's whips out different themed coffees every season, (we're on our 4th education minister in 2 years within the same Liberal government), it's hard to have a grand vision in education. We even had a minister who actually said that buying new books for students wasn't all that important.</div><div><br></div><div>Here's my suggestion. If we want a generation of informed, open-minded, culture loving, critical thinking, engaged citizens, we should try promoting real reading with real books. And that takes money, more than 250$ per class per school year. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-70781093896289057732016-03-27T08:46:00.001-04:002016-03-27T08:46:28.535-04:00My head map My head map inspired by Personal Geographies by Jill K. Berry<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0_kgQhdIRzy8mAb3rfDfyc8CAcay1bg_Hn-a5pHlf3mr-4Vd4X2Pc7oMtktBZp6udwNCpiyMkY19esnleXHr1L41u59aqjKRlVlmlrsucD4X-k9_hyphenhyphenNkhzz31qAI7vfWFsz3rR_e8c7c/s640/blogger-image--1209634349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0_kgQhdIRzy8mAb3rfDfyc8CAcay1bg_Hn-a5pHlf3mr-4Vd4X2Pc7oMtktBZp6udwNCpiyMkY19esnleXHr1L41u59aqjKRlVlmlrsucD4X-k9_hyphenhyphenNkhzz31qAI7vfWFsz3rR_e8c7c/s640/blogger-image--1209634349.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0awwOxEPRk6A7z0tmJG-9I4fZ3XaeAp4OBlcOVtBDpyaLEJfB1L41qTM6X2cfPGdGrSImzGQkGiEx-z8Qc0k-sb8SgAwngIe6mB5_u2FQkQEWITvfhHzqDsvLV3Yh2lJ-wRNGDsWcilc/s640/blogger-image-1445757914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0awwOxEPRk6A7z0tmJG-9I4fZ3XaeAp4OBlcOVtBDpyaLEJfB1L41qTM6X2cfPGdGrSImzGQkGiEx-z8Qc0k-sb8SgAwngIe6mB5_u2FQkQEWITvfhHzqDsvLV3Yh2lJ-wRNGDsWcilc/s640/blogger-image-1445757914.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-87481412494302421432016-02-13T19:54:00.001-05:002016-02-14T15:54:21.059-05:00Love poem #1<div><br></div>Decades long gone<div>We noticed one another</div><div>Time together</div><div>Time apart</div><div>You are always </div><div>My heart</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KGGVrMrIhSSn6lAbNd2eWvKsw-P9lcuSB9mWcKvBlMpDHILEQahsha6eJfw8MvWqlCD2NT4t2PYg3MWkaYYWV_NvcxnhK8kRjSe6-bFL1BtJ2d3TE7TMF8slZFbewa8nAzcmSzI_HGws/s640/blogger-image-127233486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KGGVrMrIhSSn6lAbNd2eWvKsw-P9lcuSB9mWcKvBlMpDHILEQahsha6eJfw8MvWqlCD2NT4t2PYg3MWkaYYWV_NvcxnhK8kRjSe6-bFL1BtJ2d3TE7TMF8slZFbewa8nAzcmSzI_HGws/s640/blogger-image-127233486.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-27858908925886627672015-12-31T17:36:00.001-05:002015-12-31T18:17:28.351-05:00Master gratitude list for 20161. Warm glow on my face after skiing<br />
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2. A safe country to call home</div>
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3. Making new friends </div>
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4. Old friendships</div>
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5. Walking to work</div>
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6. Cycling to work</div>
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7. Snowshoeing to work</div>
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8. Skiing to work</div>
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9. Any room, deck, porch, campsite, restaurant table with a view</div>
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10. Growing something from seed</div>
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11. Raising a monarch from an egg</div>
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12. Chocolate chip cookies</div>
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13. Music</div>
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14. Composing music</div>
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15. Good books</div>
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16. Finding people who love talking about books</div>
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17. New landscapes</div>
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18. The Internet</div>
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19. A steady life partner</div>
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20. My cat</div>
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21. Family</div>
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22. All of my friends</div>
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23. Community</div>
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24. Vibrant colours </div>
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25. Fridge full of food</div>
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26. Cup of tea</div>
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27. A day with no obligations</div>
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28. Meaningful work</div>
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29. Working with young people</div>
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30. A team of talented coworkers</div>
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31. Health</div>
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32. A good night's sleep</div>
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33. Swimming in one of the most beautiful pools anywhere</div>
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34. Travel</div>
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35. Staying home</div>
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36. Pot of homemade soup</div>
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37. Dean Martin's sultry, boozy crooning</div>
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38. K.d. Lang singing anything she likes</div>
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39. Any movie with Gene Hackamn</div>
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40. Living close to nature</div>
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41. Kayaking</div>
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42. Hiking</div>
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43. Cycling</div>
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44. Nordic skiing</div>
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45. Snowshoeing</div>
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46. Camping</div>
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47. My best friend</div>
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48. Beluga whales</div>
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49. Good wine</div>
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50. Homemade waffles</div>
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51. Brownies</div>
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52. Potluck meals with good friends</div>
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53. A piano in the living room</div>
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54. Guitars</div>
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55. Ukuleles</div>
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56. Long neck dulcimers</div>
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57. A good amp</div>
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58. Someone to play music with me</div>
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59. Someone who can harmonize with me</div>
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60. Someone who likes eclectic music</div>
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61. Financial security</div>
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62. Peace of mind</div>
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63. Courage</div>
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64. Love</div>
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65. Joy</div>
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66. Enthusiasm</div>
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67. Favorite author putting out new book</div>
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68. Good mystery/spy novel</div>
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69. Enlightening biographies</div>
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70. Well-written historical novels</div>
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71. CBC radio/podcasts</div>
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72. Listening to Tedtalks while ironing or weeding</div>
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73. A place for everything and everything I its place</div>
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74. My warm fuzzy file</div>
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75. My dozens of journals organized chronologically </div>
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76. Kobo reader</div>
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77. Ottawa library</div>
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78. Feeling totally at home in water</div>
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79. Comfy bed</div>
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80. Perfect pillow</div>
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81. Growing up bilingual</div>
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82. Learning. Different languages</div>
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83. Bees</div>
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84. Honey</div>
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85. Maple syrup</div>
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86. Chocolate</div>
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87. Cheese</div>
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88. Homemade pizza</div>
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89. Smooth plane ride to anywhere new</div>
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90. Newfoundland</div>
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91. Living on a linguistic island in the middle of an Anglo sea. </div>
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92. La Presse +</div>
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93. Forest bathing</div>
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94. Living in the country but having two fabulous cities each an hour away</div>
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95. Having your sports store deliver new skis to your door and adjust the bindings on your boots right in your own home</div>
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96. Having the same sports store guy pick up, fix and deliver your bike when it need fixing</div>
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97. Comfy warm pyjamas</div>
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98. Cooking anything from scratch </div>
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99. Reminding myself to slow down when things are getting hectic</div>
<div>
100. Knowing when it's good for me to sit still and smile</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-70089599079587440262015-12-21T20:57:00.001-05:002015-12-21T20:57:48.514-05:00Original song You never listen to me by Julia Nadon<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3-_Y6-3-DbM" width="480"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-72490829234942225862015-11-07T08:41:00.003-05:002015-11-07T08:42:32.208-05:00La tricherie à l'université"Le problème, c’est que plusieurs étudiants vont à l’école uniquement
pour avoir un papier. Et selon moi, c’est un peu de notre faute. On ne
regarde que les notes pour la maîtrise et les bourses [sauf dans
certains programmes] au lieu de faire des entrevues et de valoriser ce
que l’étudiant a réellement appris. »<br />
<a href="http://plus.lapresse.ca/screens/dcca9ad9-54f3-49d7-a1ab-ac453c75bba9%7CQcPpwHlm4lm4.html">Tiré de La Presse + ce matin</a><br />
Ça ne m'a jamais même croisé l'esprit lorsque j'étais aux études. J'ai
payé des secrétaires de l'Université d'Ottawa pour taper mes travaux
manuscrits, car c'était avant les ordinateurs personnels et si on
faisait plus de 3 fautes de frappe sur une page dactylographiée, il
fallait recommencer la page. Pendant une fin de session, je me revois en
train de passer mes feuilles manuscrites à ma mère au fur et à mesure
que je terminais leur rédaction. Ma mère était montée à mon appartement
pour taper mes travaux. Elle avait pris pitié de moi cette fois-là. Les
doigts de ma mère s'envolaient sur le clavier de ma machine à écrire
comme ceux d'Alain Lefèvre sur un Grand.<br />
Pendant une session de
mon bac en littérature, étant débordée dans mes lectures, j'avoue avoir
"écouté" The Picture of Dorian Gray par Oscar Wilde sur des cassettes au
lieu de le lire pour gagner du temps. Je n'avais pas réalisé que la
version lue sur cassette était abrégée et que cela me présenterait des
petits pépins lors de ma synthèse alors j'ai quand même dû me procurer
le livre et lire certains passages.<br />
Au cégep Bois-de-Boulgogne,
mon prof de littérature nous rencontrait individuellement pour nous
interviewer à propos de nos lectures à partir de la liste qu'il nous
avait imposée en début de session. Tu avais intérêt à avoir lu les
livres attentivement. Je me souviens qu'on devait lire "Pour qui sonne
le glas" d'Ernest Hemingway. Nous avions une copie de "For whom the Bell
tolls" dans l'immense bibliothèque chez mes parents, alors j'avais
décidé de lire la version originale en anglais pour mon cours de
français. Je me souviens que je me sentais nerveuse pendant l'entrevue
du lundi matin craignant que mon prof s'aperçoive que je ne l'avais pas
lu la traduction française. J'ai toujours préféré lire des livres dans
la langue de départ. <br />
Il y a tellement de façons d'exprimer sa
pensée que si les profs d'universités et de cegeps variaient le genre de
productions qu'ils acceptent des étudiants, la tentation du plagiat se
présenterait moins. Par exemple pour un travail final dans un cours de
didactique de littérature de niveau secondaire à la faculté d'éducation
de l'Université d'Ottawa, au lieu de remettre un bon vieux travail écrit
pour présenter ma recherche, j'avais décidé d'écrire des paroles de
chanson sur l'air de King of the Road de Roger Miller. Pour ma
présentation orale, j'avais apporté ma guitare en classe. Impossible de
faire du plagiat dans ce cas. <br />
C'est certain qu'une telle
ouverture demande que les profs soient prêts à faire autrement et à
analyser une panoplie de modes d'expression. Par contre, porter un
jugement sur de telles productions en les convertissant en un
pourcentage devient un exercice plus complexe. Peut-être devrions-nous
nous éloigner des notes, mais ça c'est un tout autre débat qui demande
un gros travail de débroussaillage. <br />
Selon moi, nous devons
inviter les étudiants à s'engager à fond pour le plaisir d'apprendre et
de débattre des idées en variant les travaux de productions et leurs
moyens d'expression. <br />
C'est à nous de former les prochaines
générations à réfléchir sur le monde et sur les rôles qu'ils veulent
jouer sur cette grande scène afin de former leurs propres valeurs.<br />
Trente-trois ans plus tard pour en avoir la conscience tranquille, je
viens de rajouter The Picture of Dorian Gray à ma liste de lecture.
Bonne journée!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-12550855907852568632015-09-05T09:57:00.001-04:002015-11-03T07:20:29.703-05:00Facebook and my dwindling attention span...I haven't seen the movie but I read Still Alice a few weeks ago. You know the story. Julianne Moore plays a brilliant women who is diagnosed with Alzheimer's and we see her losing it.<div><br></div><div>Is it just me or am I suffering from diminished recall? I'm 53, well-read, curious, a life-long learner who has always had the attention span of a fruit fly, but lately it feels like something else. I'm having trouble holding a thought long enough for it to make to the shopping list or for me to get to the other end of the house to fetch whatever it was. Then, like someone looking for their lost keys, I try to retrace what I was thinking about in order to find the all important thingamajig.</div><div><br></div><div>The only thing besides being a year older is that my use of the Internet has changed in the last few months. Yup! I finally made a Facebook account.</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I've been active on the Internet ever since it was made available in my area over 20 years ago and I was an early adopter of Yahoo Mail, MSN messenger, Blogger, Twitter, FlickR, and YouTube. My concentration was fine with these platforms. I'm hereby blaming Facebook for my dwindling attention span. Oh hold a sec, I need to see what's happening out there. Oh Look! I got 9 more likes and 3 comments. Ooooo! I'll be right back, gotta check my message thingy. A friend request! Do I know you? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Why is there such an urgency about Facebook? I admit it's a great way keeping up or connecting with long lost colleagues, old friends, new friends, other villagers, ex-students, far flung family members I might have met at a family reunion when I was two, but even for "getting closer" to across the hall colleagues and my next door neighbour.</span></div><div><br></div><div>I joined FB this year because of my travel plans. A private group was created so that the ladies could get to know one another. We all hit it off so well that we've been connecting with likes and comments ever since we got back from Newfoundland. And for that I'm grateful. There are so many wonderful people out there and even across the street. But if I want any hope at all at recognizing you or to able to win trivia party games in 30 years, I'm going to have to ration my Facebook use.</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> A. I could limit the amount of time I'm on Facebook with a timer.</span></div><div>B. I could allow myself FB time on odd number dates on the calendar.</div><div>C. I could set a regular time for FB and make a disciplined part of my weekly routine like swimming laps.</div><div>D. I could go cold turkey and swear off it for a predetermined amount of time. </div><div>E. I could allow myself in minutes the amount of laps I swim. For example, I currently swim 100 laps per week which would translate into 100 minutes a week. I can see myself heading to the pool just to get more FB time. </div><div><br></div><div>Am I the only one out there struggling with dismissed concentration and Facebook sucking time that I could be doing "better" things like reading, music, art or face to face time with flesh and bones people? Don't get me wrong I love my FB tribe, but I'm looking for ways to get some balance back into my mornings and evenings and reclaim a few much needed brain cells so I can remember why I'm standing in the middle of the laundry room right now,</div><div>Let me know.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-66003389532004373262015-08-05T15:03:00.001-04:002015-08-06T13:08:09.816-04:00Carry on for 1 week and including both summer and winter clothes...just in case!!There are a lot of blogs and videos telling you how to fold and pack like a pro. You can look them up.<br />
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One of my many goals in starting to travel again was learning to travel "light" with a lightness of being in my soul. I've been working hard on myself to lighten my burdens and to let go of worries in order to free myself to get out there and explore again. Deciding to go the carry-on route symbolized my metamorphosis.<br />
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Here is my packing list for a 1 week trip to the most beautiful west coast of Newfoundland for hiking, kayaking, general sight-seeing and whale watching excursions.<br />
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My check list included a bathing suit, a down-filled jacket, polar fleece mitts and tuque!! Or toque for you R.O.C. (Rest of Canada, outside of Quebec folk!!)<br />
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I did a lot of research and settled on using 3 pieces (convertible backpack, daypack and my ever present M.E.C. sling purse) to get me swiftly between flights from Ottawa to Halifax and then onto Deer Lake without having to check bags. </div>
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I decided to really reduce to the basics for this trip as far as shoes and make-up went. I usually wear waterproof mascara because I'm always flinging myself into water while swimming or kayaking or getting teary eyed by reading something or laughing until my sides hurt...the only non-green product that I haven't given up...yet!!! I decided to not wear any make-up for this trip. So there was no need for make-up remover and little pads either.</div>
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The most important space saving tip I found would be making do with only 2 pairs of shoes: hiking boots and Crocs. Yes, that's right!The original ugly ones.Admit it, they are darn comfy and you can wear them with socks which you can't do with shower flipflops.</div>
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I bought an <a href="http://www.lacordee.com/en/osprey-farpoint-40-backpack">Osprey Farpoint 40</a> backpack. The folks at La Cordée in Montreal adjusted the hip belt and straps for me with weights. But since I was just going from planes to vans, I used the pack like a suitcase with straps and belt tucked neatly out of sight.</div>
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As my personal item, I settled on <a href="http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/86674?page=stowaway-day-pack">L.L.Bean's Stowaway pack </a>which, if needed packs into one of the zipper pockets much like the old K-way jackets used to. It's quite squishable so that if it's not terribly full, I could squish it under the seat in the airplane along with my Mec purse. The L.L. Bean Stowaway pack was surprisingly comfortable as a light day hiking pack (big lunch and lots of snacks, phone, wallet, rain gear, camera, field glasses, a litre of water, etc.)</div>
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Now for the list:</div>
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I wore Prana convertible hiking pants, a quick dry v-neck T, Smartwool Hiking sock, Mec hiking boots, 1 of my new favourite Moving Comfort Fiona sports bras, and a very light polar fleece. </div>
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In my L.L.Bean Stowaway, I had my rain pants and jacket, my very stuffable goose down jacket, my small ziplock bag with what very basic cosmetics and first aid liquids, extra pair of glasses, throwaway contact lenses, trail mix, granola bars (friends know that I constantly eat), camera, feminine hygiene paraphernalia, 1 litre Nalgene bottle, all of my gadget chargers. I use honey soap made by a local beekeeper or eco friendly soap by a local soapmaker, <a href="http://www.lavandineetcie.com/">Lavandine et Cie</a>, as a face and body soap and also instead of shampoo. Madame Lavandine was nice enough to make a special batch of sun protection cream which I put into a small container for the trip.</div>
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In the summer, I switch to a smaller wallet with just the essentials (driver's license, health card, credit card, bank card) no store loyalty cards, etc. . That left room for my IPad, phone, printed travel itinerary and boarding pass ( on the way back, I felt suddenly very modern when I downloaded my boarding pass from Deer Lake to Halifax when I discovered wifi in a café, this being my first big trip since 2001). </div>
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The rest of the stuff on my list went into the Osprey Farpoint pack.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="FR-CA">Roll what you can roll</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="FR-CA">Squish what you can squish</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="FR-CA">Stuff what you can stuff</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="FR-CA">Fill any spaces with smaller items</span></i></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA">I'm too frugal to buy expensive packing cubes soI used laundry net bags and smaller zip or draw string mesh and nylon bags.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span lang="FR-CA">Trip checklist: </span></u></i></b></div>
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2nd pair of Prana convertible hiking pants<br />
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2 other short sleeve quick dry V-neck T's</div>
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2 other pairs of Smart wool hiking socks</div>
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long sleeve dressier quick dry travel shirt by Mec </div>
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bathing suit</div>
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Small drybag for cell phone and wallet for kayaking</div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Night shirt</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">yoga leggings</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">6 pairs of underwear</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">fleece ski hat</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">fleece mitts</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Crocks which I stuffed with smaller items so as not to lose space</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Underwear X 7</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Other Moving Comfort sportsbra...that's it!!</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Long sleeve IceBreaker smartwool top </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Sunhat</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Mosquito top with headgear (I keep lugging this thing and hardly using it!!)</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Sea to Summit Bath towel which stuffs into teeny tiny pack</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Sunglasses</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">small blow up travel pillow (which I never used...I can sleep at home...!!)</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">first aid kit</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">ziplock bags in small and medium sizes</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">ear plugs </span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">field glasses </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">My first aid kit by Mec is the one I use while kayaking at home or on field trip with my students:</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Advil</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Reactine and Benadryl pills</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">adhesive tape</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">bandages</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Compped and Band-Aid products for blisters </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">bandaids</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">New skin</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Polysporin</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Immodium</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">honey throat lozenges made by local beekeeper</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">hand sanitizer</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">wet wipes </span></div>
duct tape rolled around a pencil </div>
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quick tip which when wet can be used to remove ticks safely</div>
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Deep Woods OFF which I haven't used yet, but in case even I can stand the buggies!!! </div>
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Dryer lint and petroleum jelly as a fire starter in 35 mm film canister (did not bring on this trip but usually have for kayak trips)</div>
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Diva Cup and or small feminine products stashed safely away in a 35 mm film canister</div>
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tweezers</div>
<div>
emergency crash scissors</div>
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Swiss Army knife (which was taken from me by kind security screening personnel at the Ottawa airport who were just doing their job...after all of my prep work, I'd forgotten about the knife in my first aid kit. I still haven't bought another one.<br />
<br />
So that's how I managed to pack for an action filled week in gorgeous Newfoundland with <a href="http://www.wildwomenexpeditions.com/">Wild Women Expeditions</a> with only carry on luggage and a feeling of lightness and elation in my whole being!!!<br />
<br />
Happy trails!!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-59151413531832067842015-07-19T09:53:00.001-04:002015-07-19T10:26:14.440-04:00Wide awake in Woody Point<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEhY-JsdAhjW4K4KZJnMJpSuHAo1_LPXRW8lz3-G7dR_clpfeCodaFIEW9lVWWRE_Ga1NS3Vgpek1rKUiOknsH3ABAyAN7MsrcFDBQelFE7dLleH7tWFeT5TWU911tXR_dqhJhpC632aH/s1600/20150706_062021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEhY-JsdAhjW4K4KZJnMJpSuHAo1_LPXRW8lz3-G7dR_clpfeCodaFIEW9lVWWRE_Ga1NS3Vgpek1rKUiOknsH3ABAyAN7MsrcFDBQelFE7dLleH7tWFeT5TWU911tXR_dqhJhpC632aH/s640/20150706_062021.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Grandma's house, Woody Point, Newfoundland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
I had awaken to go to the bathroom because I'd decided to have two Iceberg beers that evening instead of just the one. As I lay back down in my room with a view of the South Arm of Bonne Bay, despite having to be up around 6 am to get myself ready for another full day of activities with Wild Women Expeditions, I didn't worry about not getting enough sleep. I lay there content in knowing even though I was wide awake in the middle of the night and might not fall back asleep, my heart was full of JOY because <i>I was wide awake in the middle of the night in Woody Point, Newfoundland!!</i><br />
<br />
Let me explain. My last big trip involving air travel was tragic because my Dad died suddenly at home upon returning from driving us to the Montreal airport. A series of events which followed this huge blow triggered anxiety, post traumatic stress syndrome and full blown O.C.D. (no laughing matter when it keeps you in a state of reptilian hyper alertness, or like Dr Johnny Fever from W.K.R.P. IN Cincinnati once said: "<span class="single_title entry-content"><i>When everyone is out to get you, paranoia is just good thinking.</i>"</span>).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixiIpX2tu8TeKkjE-fqtRVgH2lVSPrXpFiZRjlIpZDb3dDcr6AIUBsf1NP3Wdycv2O2GP_-vH9iafXGuwvC9U-Fj2HVhNM78vce6ayVWOGqCoHzWDBpA_58cS8G4iqChJxO_XQtuWKs1aD/s1600/johnny+fever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixiIpX2tu8TeKkjE-fqtRVgH2lVSPrXpFiZRjlIpZDb3dDcr6AIUBsf1NP3Wdycv2O2GP_-vH9iafXGuwvC9U-Fj2HVhNM78vce6ayVWOGqCoHzWDBpA_58cS8G4iqChJxO_XQtuWKs1aD/s1600/johnny+fever.jpg" /></a></div>
It took a few years for these ills to manifest, but they managed to keep their claws dug into me for almost a decade. I finally found the right kind of help in 2013-2014 and was ready to once again spread my wings. I chose Wild Women Expeditions and their Iceberg and arts tour both as a goal, a challenge and a celebration.<br />
<br />
Here is what I wrote as a review on their Facebook page:<br />
<br />
<i>Highlight this week? Freedom!<br /> Let me explain. With the small
community created by Katie Broadhurst and Jenny Martindale and our Wild
Women group, I learned to fly again. I'd put myself in a cage, shut the
door and lost the key a few years ago. With help last year, I'd found a
new key, more like a combination to the lock, I'd managed to open the
door,but I'd still been afraid to fly out. Each one o<span class="text_exposed_show">f
my Wild Women Sisters, each with their own baggage and lovely, quirky,
authentic selves helped me to feel safe enough to embrace the present
and let go of the past. So what was the highlight for me? Each and every
moment being right there in magnificent Newfoundland, in the present,
in movement or in stillness, that was my highlight! I don't know if any
other travel outfit can achieve this!! This trip was everything I'd
dreamed of and so much more. Thank you Wild Women Expeditions!!!<br /> Thank you, my wonderful Wild Women Icebergs and Arts Tour Tribe!</span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">Even Air Canada made my first trip since 2001 a lovely breeze. Here is what I wrote to them:</span><br />
<br />
<i><span class="text_exposed_show">Air Canada </span></i><span class="text_exposed_show"><i>staff on flights July 3rd flights 8638 from Ottawa to Halifax and 8880
onto Deer Lake and then on July 9th from Deer Lake flight 8885 to
Halifax and onto Ottawa on flight 8597 were courteous, cheerful and
helpful. Thank you Air Canada and staff for making a long awaited trip
an incredibly positive experience!!</i></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-I7T5OMxKT8oyKj07QudKm-7jBypFsp68hg8INmjNYRWgHS_jL243BNJXjaDQKVU9MSAXES8lZZ3dzsnJT9NEo6ighC_s63mkeLlKh-RhoLT9ojHzyKhzh51bik4wvrA2UQVQklf7mpX/s1600/Julia+Look+out+Gros+Morne+arms+out+from+behind.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj-I7T5OMxKT8oyKj07QudKm-7jBypFsp68hg8INmjNYRWgHS_jL243BNJXjaDQKVU9MSAXES8lZZ3dzsnJT9NEo6ighC_s63mkeLlKh-RhoLT9ojHzyKhzh51bik4wvrA2UQVQklf7mpX/s640/Julia+Look+out+Gros+Morne+arms+out+from+behind.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This trip left me feeling empowered.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I felt so totally and incredibly happy right down to the very core of my being. Totally exhilarating!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">This whole experience is such a triumph. I never thought that I'd be able to take off like that again. I used to travel on my own years ago. I started when I was 19 with a trip to California, lived abroad for 3 years in my late twenties and traveled well into my mid to late 30's. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"> <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=zvgRQ4iBgm8Y.kQHxfmNvJ0ps&usp=sharing">Places I've lived or been too. </a></span><br />
<br />
<iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=zvgRQ4iBgm8Y.kQHxfmNvJ0ps" width="640"></iframe>
<span class="text_exposed_show"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">In my 40's, I struggled with the real and imagined dangers of life trying to avoid everything that might upset the comfy confines of my routines. A couple of years ago, I decided that I needed to embrace life outside of the cage. I wanted my 50's to be glorious.<i> </i></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">So there I was wide awake in the middle of the night in Woody Point feeling </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">grateful. Thank you to everyone who has had a part, big or small, in encouraging me in my journey. </span>This trip was such a celebration of being alive and healthy, mentally and physically. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Gratitude, peace, health, acceptance, joy and enthusiasm! </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-68901505793240407242015-06-20T08:11:00.002-04:002015-06-20T08:19:07.601-04:00la Fête des pères <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fête des pères 2015</span></div>
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la mémoire de mon père,</span><span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"></span></div>
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G. Nadon</span><span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"></span></div>
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juillet 1923-</span><span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"></span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Charter Bd BT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">21
février 2001</span><span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Jean Gabriel Nadon, John, Mon Oncle Johnny,
Dad, Pa.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Je n'ai pas beaucoup connu mon père pendant mon enfance. Il
travaillait de longues heures à partir du mois d'avril jusqu'au mois d'octobre
à Lachute. Nous allions passer les étés avec lui. Il m'amenait dans les grandes
cuisines du club de golf de Lachute pour que le pâtissier me gâte avec toutes
sortes de créations sucrées.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Quand mon père a reçu l'invitation pour travailler pour le
Gouverneur Général c'est ma mère qui l'a encouragé d'accepter ce poste
prestigieux. Alors là, il travaillait de longues heures à longueur d'année à
Ottawa. Ma mère et moi allions le voir lorsqu'il ne pouvait pas descendre ici. J'étais
très jeune et ça m'impressionnait de voir mon père vêtu dans un genre de tuxedo
avec une grande queue ressemblant à un chef d'orchestre. Mon père l'appelait
son "monkey suit". Il était beau dans son monkey suit.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Environ toutes les 2 semaines, mon père descendait à Montebello
pour une fin de semaine de congé. Nous nous assoyions au souper avec des
chandelles et une bouteille de vin. En ce temps-là, mon père coupait mon vin
avec de l'eau. Il avait toujours de bonnes histoires à nous raconter. Au lieu
de contes de fées, mon père remplissait ma tête avec des anecdotes de la vie de
Rideau Hall remplies de personnages comme des rois, des reines, des premiers
ministres et des présidents de pays lointains. Il était bon raconteur.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Il nous rapportait des cadeaux et des souvenirs exotiques. À un
party surprise pour ma fête, il nous a servi un délice d'un pays africain: des
chenilles fumées. Il a fait semblant d'en déguster pour convaincre mes amis et
moi d'en manger.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Mon père a eu la chance de voyager. Il a partagé une de ses aventures
avec moi l'été de mes 16 ans. Il m'a emmenée pour mon premier vol à bord d'un
Boeing 707, mais pas n'importe quel Boeing. C'était l'avion de la reine
d'Angleterre. Quel baptême de l'air! Moi, j'espérais rencontrer le beau Prince Andrew,
j'avais même porté une jupe, mais il avait pris un autre vol. Par contre, j'ai
fait la connaissance d'un autre prince. La relation avec mon père dont je
jouissais les dernières années de sa vie a pris naissance pendant ce voyage. Nous
sommes revenus de Vancouver par le train. Quatre jours toute seule à traverser
le Canada avec mon père. C'était le début de notre complicité.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Mon père était un homme sage. Quelques semaines après avoir quitté
le village pour poursuivre mes études à Montréal, j'ai téléphoné à mon père
pour lui dire que je voulais tout lâcher. Papa pouvait aussi être économe avec
ses mots: "Je comprends que tu trouves ça difficile, mais reste à l'école,
me dit-il doucement, on en reparlera à Noël". Il savait bien ou bien il
espérait que je plonge dans mes études et ma nouvelle vie. Il a eu raison. Rendu
à Noël tout allait bien et je voulais continuer mes études. Deux ans plus tard,
rendue à l'université d'Ottawa, demeurant à quelques rues de mon père, je lui
ai téléphoné pour lui dire que j'étais découragée et que je voulais quitter les
études. Encore une fois, mon père m'a répondu: "Reste à l'école, on
en reparlera à Noël".</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Papa savait comment j'allais juste à me regarder ou à entendre ma
voix. Il me disait: "Viens faire un tour au bureau." Il
m'assoyait dans sa chaise. Il revenait avec des restants succulents d'un repas
gastronomique et il me racontait des histoires. Il a toujours gardé cette douce
sensibilité.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Papa a toujours continué de nous divertir avec ses histoires. Deux
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>semaines avant son décès à l'heure du
souper, il nous racontait les différentes manières qu'il a tenté de s'esquiver
de son service militaire pendant la guerre. Ses copains et lui ont même
ingurgité des négatifs de photos en croyant que ça révélerait des taches sur
leurs poumons. Malgré tous leurs efforts, ils ont servi leur pays.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> La veille de notre voyage en Espagne pendant lequel il est décédé,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>je lui ai demandé: "Comment as-tu
fait pour ne pas t'inquiéter pendant les 3 ans que j'étais en
Europe?" " Qui te dit que je ne me suis pas inquiété? Il
fallait que je l'accepte", m'a-t-il répondu en regardant par la fenêtre du
salon.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Je suis reconnaissante que la vie m’ait prêté deux parents qui ont
donné à Vincent et à moi de l'amour, une joie de vivre, un sens de l'humour et
une appréciation pour tout ce qui est beau et bon.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="FR-CA" style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Ce qui était le plus important pour mon père était de savoir que
sa famille était en sécurité et heureuse. Je me sens bénie d'avoir profité des
dernières années avec mon père. Que de matins nous avons admiré les oiseaux
dans nos mangeoires, les chevreuils dans les champs et la rosée sur nos fleurs.
Que de journées nous avons passées à dévorer des livres de recettes. Il
n'est plus là. J’ai appris à accepter le départ prématuré de mes parents. Je sais
dans mon coeur qu’ils sont en sécurité et heureux.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR-CA"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #006600; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="mso-ignore: vglayout;"><img border="0" height="29" src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.gif" width="47" /></span></span></a></span><span style="color: #663366; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-79821234386074166492015-05-10T07:30:00.001-04:002015-05-10T08:28:24.969-04:00Mother's DayMy Mom died in 1991 from colon cancer. I was 28 and devastated. My life had been falling apart back then so I ran away for 3 years. Since then, I've never done anything for Mother's Day. But this morning, I've chosen to look at Mother's Day through a different lense and leave regret, hurt, guilt and shame aside.<br />
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I'm sorry for all of the stupid things I did, all of the wretchedly poor choices I made and sorry fords playing selfishness like an adolescent well into my 20's. I'm sorry for all of the worry and hurt that I put her through. </div>
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Mother's Day is usually a non-holiday for me.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But today, I will honour her and show gratitude. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm grateful that...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom always put others first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom showed me self-discipline by example.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom laughed to laugh and a wacky sense of humour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was a talented artist, she drew, painted, designed and made clothes, she played the piano well and had a beautiful singing voice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was fun to be with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">She was adventurous and loved driving into the city or checking out unmarked country roads.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom loved animals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was "green" decades before it became a political stance or a marketing gimmick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was curious and had a thirst for knowledge and an enthusiasm for sharing her discoveries.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was a natural teacher.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom cared for a beautiful vegetable, fruit and flower garden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was an awesome cook.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mom was a crusader for beliefs whether they were political, moral or spiritual.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I try to honour her by...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Having come back home and created a relationship with Dad in his final years</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Learning to cook and appreciate whole foods</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Learning to garden</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Adding the back porch that she dreamed of for years</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Keeping her piano in tune and learning to play</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Composting and caring for the earth in the choices I make</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Cooking some of her recipes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Restoring her bicycle and riding it to work</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Being curious and well-read and sharing my enthusiasm with my friends and students</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Creating music</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Creating art through photography</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Feeding birds and appreciating their presence in the yard</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Practicing gratitude every morning by observing quiet time upon waking like she did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Happy Mother's Day, Mom!</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTILoqUAITzy5pRdMftQnWUpjFcoHoAi976wBYaVZpngFshsHLjn9lbjop9QquxhqBD4dmQszb5KdcSeYhagV1KzeV04W0Lc3ervG4Vx1vNSPUSnG0u58bBvP8QWoR4I62mg9HZ6Mzozru/s640/blogger-image-769368254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTILoqUAITzy5pRdMftQnWUpjFcoHoAi976wBYaVZpngFshsHLjn9lbjop9QquxhqBD4dmQszb5KdcSeYhagV1KzeV04W0Lc3ervG4Vx1vNSPUSnG0u58bBvP8QWoR4I62mg9HZ6Mzozru/s640/blogger-image-769368254.jpg" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-63086399686903919552015-02-22T15:19:00.001-05:002015-03-22T13:49:59.667-04:00Practice, passion and persistence<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Practice, passion and persistence</span></h3><div class="post-header" style="margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3765176425986381751" itemprop="description articleBody" style="width: 496px; position: relative;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it wouldn’t seem so masterful at all.” – Michelangelo</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If Michelangelo said that, what about the rest of us? How hard must we work to achieve anything? </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">I know, I know: p</span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">ractice, passion and persistence. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If only I'd practiced the piano and the guitar more when I was a kid, if only I'd taken art and drawing more seriously in college, if only I'd had the guts to take creative writing instead of appreciation classes, what then? If only I'd been more courageous, mature and wise enough to listen to my authentic self and not so worried about getting a job and living a comfy life. What then? </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> I have no idea. I do know that now, so many decades later, when I play music or compose, blog, write poems or short stories, take and post photos or share what I am learning about, it is done with passion. </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Luckily, I stumbled into a living which allows me the freedom to use my interests in many different ways and hopefully every once in awhile, a student will recognize a spark which will lead her to her own desires and to her true self.</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">I'm at a stage that in order to show myself some compassion, I let go of expectations but I do make myself</span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"> do something, anything, because of passion. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My new motto is:</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Doing something is better than nothing.</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Nike says "Just do it!"</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I say: Do something!</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, I dabble in a lot of spheres. The way I see it, I'm curious and naïve enough to think that I can and should try my hand at different things. However, I realize that if I wanted to edge my way towards mastery, it would take me many lifetimes. </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I admire people who have achieved great things by being single-minded and focused long enough to actually get somewhere. Anywhere.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Perhaps my somewhere is to light candles In others. If so, dabbling is exactly what I should be doing in order to ignite as many fires as possible.</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">May we all be listen to our hearts and set the world ablaze with passion and compassion!</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2217186002167568716.post-4932904471388996482015-02-22T14:36:00.001-05:002015-02-22T14:36:38.382-05:00Mind map of The Sweet Spot by Christine CarterThe Sweet Spot by Christine Carter, my mind map notes<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj547MQTV_OHPyxMSugmcXDOQ6pDpChv3TxJSoADseAp4F2gZJaI80-JKNjXWjbNaUV13tgdCBbetCBMcDT5x2w_Ph6mg2MmjGkvURlfjjAkybU0pvmRG58QLttuRTuB6id_8naWL9GTltM/s640/blogger-image-353289193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj547MQTV_OHPyxMSugmcXDOQ6pDpChv3TxJSoADseAp4F2gZJaI80-JKNjXWjbNaUV13tgdCBbetCBMcDT5x2w_Ph6mg2MmjGkvURlfjjAkybU0pvmRG58QLttuRTuB6id_8naWL9GTltM/s640/blogger-image-353289193.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0