warning

I bought a banana guard at a school fundraiser. So far my bananas do not fit it. I think I have to take it to the produce store to find some appropriate bananas. I am waiting until Fiona gives me back the camera, then I will commence the banana guard chronicles.

question: do you have a banana guard?

mompoet - I have a banana guard

opening night

Anne of Green Gables opens tonight. That's our daughter's show. Rehearsals have been happening since September for this full-length musical theatre production. There are about 30 kids in the cast. I have pretty much finished sewing costumes and I'm now on to my volunteer job for the run of the show: rescue costume lady. If anything turns out to be hemmed too long or in need of renovations or if anything gets torn, soiled or crushed during the run of the show, it will come home to me at night and I will fix it in time for the next performance. During the dress rehearsals and previews I have been called on for a lot of hemming, and I had to put the pucker into Gilbert Blythe's knickerbockers. (I just had to say that because of the way it sounds, but it is true.)

Normally I would also be driving to and from the theatre and doing a lot of waiting with a book while rehearsals finish up. This time is different. Andy got called in on Sunday morning to help with load-in (hauling set pieces and props from storage to the theatre, and helping to set them up on the stage), something he's done before. But before he got a chance to leave the theatre, the stage manager handed him a paintbrush and a screwdriver and asked him what he was doing with all of his spare time for the next two weeks. Now he's on stage crew. So he's driving to the theatre every day, and wearing black clothing, and running around in the dark pushing heavy objects on and off the stage. I am delighted that he and Fiona have this opportunity to share an activity. Although it does feel weird to be secondary parent on this project. Oh well, Alex and I have been having some fun in the evenings while Andy and Fi are busy with the show. We'll go watch it tonight, then again next Friday, so we can see both casts (every actor learns and plays 2 parts, each on alternating nights).

Last night Alex and I went for a long walk with the dog. He told me that he doesn't mind that we aren't rich, like some of the people on TV. We talked about how we are rich, compared to most people in the world. Rich people's "normal" really isn't normal, but neither is ours. We have everything that we need plus a few scoops extra. We decided we are as rich as anyone really needs to be.

question: what's your family doing this weekend?

mompoet - rich

Sweet Last Days

I just posted my sister's blog for her. In case you haven't looked in on it yet, she's been chronicling her family's experiences living in Eritrea. They've been there for nearly two years, and are coming home soon.

Her stories of the birth of a baby to a dear friend Saba (who pretty much adopted them the day they arrived in the small town of Keren) and cooking lessons at Adem's home are now making me cry. How sad it will be for them to say goodbye to these people who have become an intimate part of their daily lives. I will be so happy to have Barb and Kim and the kids back at home, but I know it will be a hard time for them leaving their African home.

question: did you ever feel right beside someone, even when they were a world away?

mompoet - happy and sad and leaking from the eyeballs

why look at each other when we can look at the giant television?

And now, from Lazy Boy Furniture, a family set of chairs permanently stuck together to face the TV. No more intimate conversations. Forget snuggling. Stay focussed on what really matters. Cup holders and snack trays are standard equipment.

Gee. I wonder if there's a matching set of TV tables for Sunday dinner? And how about a built-in commode? Wouldn't want to miss a minute of that wide screen TV.

question: do people really buy such things?

mompoet - boggled by what you can buy

stupid worrying

I have been thinking about worrying lately, and all of the stupid things that I worry about. I worry about whether the vegetables will rot before I have time to cook them. I worry if the dog's claws are too long and I need to clip them more often. I worry about socks and pens that disappear. Where are they? I worry about losing my cell phone. I worry about whether I locked the car door. I almost always walk back to my car to check. It is almost always locked.

This may seem surprising if you know me, because I am a generally exuberant and optimistic person. I think I worry less than a lot of people do. I have faith in the people around me to take care of things, and in my own competence, and in the general goodness and natural order of the universe. But I do worry, of course, like everyone.

Spring is the time when my worrying comes to a head. And not just about studpid things. In spring I worry about important things too. I worry about work. Will I get everything done in time for summer? (Hint to self: you have been doing this job for about 20 years. Every year you are ready when summer comes. You can do it.) I worry about my husband and the kids and the dog (not the cat, interestingly) and all of the things I could do for them if I had/made more time for them. Is everybody safe? happy? healthy? Are we making the most of our lives together? (hint to self: Maybe you are not always easy to be married to. Maybe you are not the perfect Mom every minute of every day. Most of the time your family is happy, enjoying each other. You all look forward to seeing each other. There is love and appreciation. Your family is better than okay, even though you have your own interests and activities. Your life is rich and full.) I even worry about trees. There are these trees that I drive past every day on my way to work, some of my favourite trees anywhere, in fact. This spring it seems like they have waited forever to grow leaves. Every time I drive past them, I worry: Are they sick? Are they dead? When will they green up? (hint to self: Look, today they have tiny leaves poking out. They are okay.)

The funny thing about worry is that it doesn't do anything constructive. It doesn't make the work get done or the people feel happy or the leaves grow any faster than nature intends them to grow. I tell myself that when I am trying not to worry. But I also think there must be a purpose for this emotion. I think maybe it's about loving and valuing. Worrying reminds me that some things are important enough to think about them in an intense and urgent way. If I didn't love my work and my family and the trees, I wouldn't care enough to worry about them. But I do love them, so I worry.

question: Do you think I have enough shampoo to make it to the end of the week? I'm kind of worried that I might run out. (OH! I must love my shampoo. ???)

mompoet - wooo-oooo-rrr-eee

perfectly lovely while it lasted

I got an email today from Tim Westergren of Pandora Internet Radio. Sadly, this internet service will be cut off to Canadians as of May 16. It's all about licensing laws. You can read about it at the Pandora Blog.

While Pandora never was available in Canada really, all you needed was a US zip code (hint, ask a friend for his/her zipcode, or look up any US mailing address and use that one). Now Pandora has to own up to being able to detect users' IP addresses, and thus able to deny access based on that.

I'll miss finding out about music that is like the music I like. I'll miss listening to it while I poke around on the internet or post my blog. I hope they find a way to bring Pandora to Canada legally.

If you haven't listened yet, you still have 1 day to enjoy the music genome project that is Pandora.


question: is there a workaround, I wonder?

mompoet - still listening

like the last person on earth to see the show (again)

I finally saw An Inconvenient Truth last night. Our church hosted a screening, followed by a discussion. About 50 people attended - half members of our congregation, half others. Our minister and a counselor experienced in talking with people about the environment facilitated a check-in before the movie and a discussion after. Part of the idea was to think about our emotional response to global warming and to talk about ways that we react to our strong feelings. Denial, fear, anger, hopelessness, cynicism, fatalism...all of these feelings are natural in the face of a problem this big. The thing is, you can feel them and acknowledge them, then go on to do something about the problem. Without being overtly religious, parts of the discussion paralleled the faith journey that many of us take - even when we struggle to make sense or believe in any good in the universe/creation, part of us moves along to finding and following that good path. It's like the last thing we allow ourselves to believe in is ourselves.

I went to the movie totally believing in global warming, half believing in the power of the people of the world to do something about it, and fearful I would be disappointed in the way that the message was conveyed. I had heard that it was "The Al Gore Dog and Pony Show," its good intent tainted by too much Gore-as-idol. But by the time the movie finished I could see why so much of the focus was put on the man. The message is strong, convincing, relentlessly awful until near the end when we see that we do have the capacity to make meaningful change. The Gore stories give us a personality with which to associate the message. Most of the information we have read or heard in bits and bites through other media. In the movie, a personal connection is made with a man, his personal understanding of the problem (beginining in university in the late 60s) and why it has meaning to him. I think the film-makers chose to convey it this way to help it stick in our hearts. Our brains have the ability to compartmentalize, defer and shut down segments. Our hearts are relentless once something gets stuck there. I think they were trying to stick Al Gore in our hearts so the message would be pushed to our brains in a more compelling and enduring way.

I think it's human nature that we are compelled to understanding, belief and action by a personal connection - moreso than just by information alone. Again, it parallels how religious belief works, if you think about Jesus as God transformed from an abstract principle to a personification of that principle. I know that not all world religions have one spokesperson, but most that I know about have people or characters who stand for their core values. Personal stories are allegory for what we know to be true in a more general sense, and for the goodness to which we aspire.

I am not saying that Al Gore is analagous to Jesus. I am saying that the human response to a person over an idea is similar. Think about the ideas and values that have meaning to you. Most will be connected to a person in your life or in the life of the world who symbolizes the best of the idea.

So if Al Gore is the popular figurehead for reduction of carbon dioxide emission, that's okay with me. And if Al Gore doesn't speak to everyone, there are others who are conveying this message effectively, even if they don't receive academy awards. I'm thankful for many voices to speak to many hearts. Those hearts will push those scared and sad and mad minds to action that will make change.

question: have you seen it?

mompoet - trying to connect my brain to my heart on a regular basis

life skills

My neighbour Brett and his friend Peter made this video about Icebreakers.



question: How do you feel when you have to meet someone new?

mompoet - learning some good skills from a grade 8 student project

BC Wants YOU!

Hey look, now we can get rich and successful people to invite our friends to live and work in beautiful British Columbia. Know an up-and-coming tech whiz just languishing in South Pompeii Arizona? Get Jimmy Pattison to invite him to come to BC! Know a corporate lawyer sick of the mean streets of Little Rabbit Saskatchewan? The guy who owns Lululemon will personally invite her to join us here where everyone is rich and happy and rolling around in nature's own paradise.

Now I don't want to be cynical about what a great place this is, because it is. It's just that this campaign is about as lame as a campaign can be. These auto voicemails have been in use for years. Think about how the video store reminds you of your overdue dvds, how the library tells you that book on hold is ready for you. I even get frequent messages from Jack Layton of the NDP whenever there's a picnic with the MP or an important constituency meeting. If we're trying to impress people with our innovative corporate culture and cutting edge marketing savvy I think someone missed the point.

Oh well. You could have fun spamming your friends with hokey phone messages and emails. It reminds me of the "teen magazines" littering the guidance counsellors' office in junior high, and how we used to cut out the coupon that said, "YES! I want to join the Canadian Armed Forces!" and we'd sign up our friends and mail them in.

If we want our friends to come live here, I think we should phone them ourselves.

question: which luminary would you like to phone or email you?

mompoet - BC is calling this pretty silly

workday haiku

safety fair hot dogs
are hazardous to your health
there is no free lunch

question: what did you eat for lunch?

mompoet - glad I packed a nice salad and ate before the fair

meow

At Shopper's Drug Mart, they have lots of Mother's Day cards. These include one "To Mother from Dog." It has a photograph of a dog on the front, and the words, "Happy Mother's Day Mommy." Inside, it says, "Can I fetch anything for you." Hurry if you want one, there are just a few left. The "To Mother from Cat" cards are sold out already.

question: ???

mompoet - woof

why I don't do power point

question: chicken?

mompoet - thank you to Matthew Baldwin of Defective Yeti for the link

is that how you spell it?

I did not know that I have been spelling fuchsia wrong for all of my life. We'll, probably for the past 30 years. I think I had no need to spell it before that.

I thought it was fuschia. Or at least fucshia. But it's fuchsia.

Put it on the list with sherbet and celcius and Venus de Meelow. I stand corrected (again).

question: did you ever discover you had been getting something wrong for a long time?

mompoet - I get lots of things wrong all the time. Once in a while I notice.

saving the planet

We talked about saving the planet over turkey supper and chocolate cake tonight. Most of the foods we ate would need to be scrutinized and rejected, were we already seriously at work saving it. We've changed our lightbulbs, drive small cars, and try not to accept unnecessary plastic grocery bags, but so far have not made any difficult changes, or changes that cost significant amounts of money. David Suzuki guest-edited Saturday's Vancouver Sun newspaper, so we have lots of fuel for thought. (World saving tip: thinking does not produce greenhouse gases.) We talked for a bit about a totally "green" newspaper edition including ecologically -conscious comics, horoscopes and births and deaths sections. Now that would be interesting.

We decided better transit and less road-building will be a big factor in convincing people to change their habits. We also talked about the flooding that seems sure to happen in the Fraser River Valley. For the first time in more than half a century we are threatened with widespread flooding this spring, that will almost certainly put people who we know out of their homes. We make grim jokes about how our house on the hill over an ocean inlet will be beachfront one day, but they just aren't very funny.

Like all of our family conversations seem to do, It deteriorated (or morphed anyway) into a conversation about creative disposal of cremated remains so as not to take up more space and pollute the land with buried bodies or urns. Then I thought of a geothermal car. It would have a big spike that would prong down deep through layers of earth and rock, and a storage cell to build up a charge from the thermal energy underground. Once it was juiced up you could move maybe 10 or 20 meters forward and it would use its last bit of power to prong again to another underground energy source to juice up for another 10 or 20 meter trundle. Nobody thought that this was a very good idea.

So I guess we'll just have to do some real, serious stuff, since nobody in our family is smart enough to invent something that will be an easy answer to the problem. It was a good birthday supper for Alex. The conversation made me think about how he will live on this earth for at least another 70 years. It's really up to us what it will be like for his lifespan, and for the lives of his children. I know we have the creativity and strength to make changes. If it's anything like our family dinner talk, it will be a creative and colourful adventure, fueled by love and some good, non-polluting sustainable thought.

question: do you ever talk about the earth? about ashes?

mompoet - even when I'm dust, there'll be those I love eating chocolate cake and laughing

what do you do when your kid turns 17?

Alex is 17 years old today. The day he was born the cherry blossoms were in bloom and I called into work sick. Well not actually sick. I called in "birthing." It was a Sunday, so the boss had to come in to supervise the rec centre (Sundays were my job). I apologized for the inconvenience, but the baby was 10 days early. He was a considerate baby, arriving a week ahead of Mother's Day, rather than three days after, as scheduled. This gave me my first Mother's Day as a Mom one year earlier than otherwise.

Since then we have enjoyed 17 years of better, and better and better. Now that he's 17 it's not acceptable for me to blog baby or toddler stories (too embarassing). For anyone craving a baby or todderler story, here's a link to Matthew Baldwin's blog. His 3 year old boy, the Squiggly, did something really cool.

Our 17 year old was an amazing baby and a wonderful toddler. As a growing up kid he has astonished us every day, and makes us proud on a pretty much continuing basis. Most importantly, he's growing into a happy young adult with great future prospects. This summer he has his first paid job, working in the kitchen at the fish and chip shop at our city park. He's managing to make it through Math Principles 11. He'll soon test for his driver's license. He's been practising Karate for 8 years. After graduating next year, he hopes to attend the film program at Capilano College. (He picked his high school for its multi-media program, and is enjoying his film courses tremendously.)

Today he may or may not wake up in time to go to church (being sung to at the beginning of the service is also embarassing). After lunch, he'll drive to Playland for his first roller coaster ride of the year. Later we'll have a family supper at Grandma's place. A trip to the movies with friends is in the works when everyone can find a night off together. That's another thing about 17, Mom no longer arranges a birthday party for you.

When your kid is born you focus on survival. In the early years, it's pretty much overwhelming in both wonderful and awful ways, by turn. Then the pre-teen and teen years come, and you wonder, "Will this person be okay?" "Will he be happy?" "Will he find love?" "Will he find kindness and fulfillment and joy in this harsh world?" because by that time, as a parent you realise it's going to be up to the child. You can't choreograph adulthood.

Today I am more sure than ever that the answer to those questions is mostly yes. And that's a birthday present for me. Thank you God. Thank you family. Thank you world. Thank you cherry blossoms. Thank you Alex.

Happy birthday.

question: What stories are you allowed to tell about your little ones?

mompoet - breathing out, (but leaving the candles for the birthday guy)

it's a conspiracy

If you put "Vancouver Canuck Car" into google images you get this.

question: huh?

mompoet - duh

Well, at least I won't have to join the circus now

The playoff beard is a thing of the past now that the Canucks are out. I hope it wasn't something I did or did not do. I wonder if any of them saw the cauliflower topiary sculpture of Roberto Luongo that I had out on my front lawn? They would have liked that. Now I can let the squirrels eat it. And I guess I can re-paint my car.

honk honk

question: what would you do to help your team win?

mompoet - looking for my tweezers

my playoff beard

My playoff beard is kind of weird
But if it helps us win,
I'll forgo ministrations
To the goat hairs on my chin.

Our team's not bad, we may go far
With courage, and with luck,
So while we're in the playoffs,
I swear I will not pluck.

No wax, no Nair, no magna-mirror
These spikes I will ignore
For our Canucks, a hockey hag
I'll gladly be, and more.

The men grow manly, bearded all
Their facial growth improves
While cactus-faced I praise my team
As loyalty behooves.

O estrogen, where art thou now?
With years your gifts do plummet
Yet I stand strong, my beard grows long
Onward! to Stanley's summit.

question: how's your beard?

mompoet - proudly prickly

I am finished interviewing

That sound of trumpet fanfares and angel choirs signals the end of summer interviews, or at least my part of summer interviews (unless any of my camp leaders resign). We had the "placement meeting" at work today, which is a combination of group collaboration and a hockey draft. Every park or camp except one has a leader, and we've got a couple of leads to fill that last space.

Now I can resume normal life. I am no longer responsible for finding great people for all of my co-workers. I feel tremendously relieved, but also glad I got the chance to do that. Meeting with people at the beginning of their careers is very encouraging. Yes! There are replacements! When I die there will still be yoga classes and floorhockey programs and face-painters for the fun fair.

question: can you see who will replace you in the future?

mompoet - grateful for the grasshoppers

When I was 13

A memory just came to me today while I was at Shoppers' Drug Mart. Chris, my friend at work, had her birthday on the weekend, so I got her a card and some tea and a magazine. It was Sunset Magazine, a pretty nice publication about living in the Pacific Northwest - a little food, a little travel, home and garden...

This made me remember how I once took over our family's trip to the Oregon Coast when I was 13. We decided to go for Spring Break, my parents, my sister, brother and me. We camped, and I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad chose the campsites, but I totally hijacked the itinerary. I went though every Sunset Magazine that my Mom had on the shelf (she kept them for reference), and planned all the places we needed to go: Sea Lion Caves, horseback riding on the beach, volcanic rock formations in the sea, dunes, lighthouses, a cheese factory, even an ice cream stand of special repute I think. Looking back, I think my parents deserve an award for patience and flexibility. I'm pretty sure I didn't get input from anyone else about what would be good to do. I also remember that I decided to dress like we were staying in hotels rather than camping. So I have a jewelery case, nylons, skirts and platform sandals for clambering down cliff-trails to the ocean. I also remembering postponing the striking of camp so I could preen a little longer before emerging from the tent, and something about a suitcase much bigger than the rest of the family's gear put together.

I'm sure my parents will say I wasn't that bad and that the trip was fun. But I think that will be a combination of selective memory and charity. I did grow up to be pretty nice, after all.

Mom, Dad, please comment. Is it like I remember?

question: is it?

mompoet - connecting with my inner 13 year old