Bathroom Before and After

Some Before and After Shots...

The living room when we first looked at the house...not our furniture...



During...



When we were finished. New floors, new colours, new baseboards...

Heads in the Clouds

The idea of an after life has got to be the most manipulative and powerful concept ever invented by mankind. It has made poor people complacent about their status in life by promising them eternal rewards. The meek are told that they will one day inherit the earth. It's untestable promises have kept slaves in bondage in Jerusalem, in Africa, the Asias, in the Americas and across countless generations. The fear of punishment after death has led to the denial of sexual desire, repression of science, intelligence, progress and intellectual debate. It has lauded obedience above reason and mildness over justice. It has given power to those who don't deserve it and can't handle it and made sacrifices of the week, impoverished and uneducated. It has made sinners out of babies who weren't splashed with water soon enough after birth. Behind its trail it has left a wake of complacency, acceptance, fear and abuse. And today it creates an atmosphere where blowing people to smithereens is okay because you will be rewarded with virgins and martyred in the name of God. It has allowed the infestation of incivility to fester and become more than acceptable, it has mutated into righteousness. Christians can rest easy because gays will reside in Hell and perverted old men can have sex with altar boys because they yield the promise of eternal salvation as easily as they do their dicks.

What would this world look like if the concept of eternal life had never been? How would we act if we knew this is all we had...no reward and no punishment, just the direct results of our actions. If personal accountability dictated how we treated others as opposed to their skin colour, religion or status? What if someone asked us to blow up a plane and we knew that if we did that it would be the end. No virgins, no respect, no reward - just death.

How much have we lost by allowing our humanity to reside in the clouds rather than on the earth?

Shirts and Skins

I spent Monday and Tuesday out in Banff at the Telus Skins Golf Game. I was working with Making the Connection (which Heart & Stroke is a part of) and got the chance to meet a bunch of famous golfers...who I didn't actually know or recognize. I knew who Jack Nicklaus was, but only because I used to see him in the Sears catalogue as a young girl. There was also Sergio Garcia, John Daly, Greg Norman and Stephen Ames. it was nice to be treated like royalty and as VIP's we had access to all the hospitality tents etc. It was fun and I really enjoyed meeting Pat Quinn - what a nice guy. More than that I enjoyed getting paid to hang out in Banff with famous people...even if I didn't know they were famous.

Crazy Jesus People Comics

More lunacy...

Fun With Flipping Floaters

The weekend is over and for some reason I feel very tired even though I had a fairly relaxing time. On Friday I went for dinner with a friend I hadn't met yet. I am good friends with her son and she reads my blog...I had such a nice time talking with her. We had a good meal and laughed and shared stories and I felt like I had known her for a very long time. We probably wouldn't have met if it hadn't been for the internet...nice internet.

On Saturday I decided to embark on a project I shouldn't have even considered let alone embarked at. I replaced the burner on our barbecue. Sounds easy right? After battling with a can of degreaser, wrestling with rusted metal wing nuts and finally begging for compliance from a pair of metal venturi, I finished. Five hours after I started. I was covered in black grease. But the barbecue works. Then again, it worked before I started. Look what five hours of hard work will get you.

Yesterday we headed to Bowness Park to relax and read in the sun. (I am reading the most incredible book right now called "The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss. It's probably some of the best writing I have read since Alistair MacLeod's "No Great Mischief" although of a different type.) We had been laying there in the hot sun for a few hours (me, basting in SPF 30 of course) when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, came this gale-force wind. In seconds the temperature dropped, the sky turned black and our mouths were filled with a fine grit. We, along with half the park, ran for our car, dodging falling tree branches as we went. Water Rescue trucks, with sirens blaring, headed to the water to rescue the floaters. It was like Armageddon...I kept waiting to see naked bodies floating up into the heavens (especially the family picnic to the right of our spot who prayed/sang loud enough that even the Muslims at the Islamic Centre barbecue felt shamed), but alas, it was just a summer storm.

Big People in Little Bodies...Revolt!!

One of my favourite things when I was a child was going to the public library. I bloomed under the potential of all those books and the knowledge that I would be taking at least some of them home. My Mum would often tell us we had a limit of say, five or ten items and I would spend the next hour agonizing on what books I was going to check out. Would it be too quick a read? Was it funny enough? Hard enough? Would I like it? I would read the description on the back and maybe the first few pages trying to extrapolate what the rest of the experience would feel like. Usually I ended up with five books and a list of another 50 I would have to get next time.

I still love going to the library. I still bring home too many books and end up with late fines. Just last week I returned James Gleick's Isaac Newton only half-finished. I really enjoyed it...but now I don't know what happened to Newton. I can only assume he died.

Last night I went to the library because I had a whole list of books I wanted to get and I managed to get a bunch of them. Unfortunately I stumbled across something while I was there that made me feel angry and a little sad. The library has a new "Kids Bag" program where parents can go in and grab a bag that contains five books and an audio-visual item. The bags are all lined up along one of the shelves and labeled according to gender and age. What the hell? What happened to choosing books with your child? What happened to the idea that kids are actually little people who have preferences, tastes and varying abilities? Can you imagine if I handed you a book and said "Here you go. I have no idea what this book is about but it's geared towards your generation and gender so you're bound to like it." How are you supposed to learn about yourself and develop a relationship with reading if you're just handed an arbitrarily assigned plastic bag of reading materials?

If parents don't have time to even pick out the books for their little ones I can bet they aren't reading to them either. Sometimes I wonder how we all ended up doing things so ass backwards and why nobody seems to notice.

Number One of Series

I don't know what it says but I like it anyway...

Yay Brian!! (Also known as West, BD)

I hope you choke on a roll...

I do not profess to know very much about the Middle East or how we're all going to solve it, but I do think I can safely say that it won't be with rockets. What a mess over there right now. What sadness and frustration to watch it all happen and know that it's very unlikely it will come to a peaceful resolution any time soon. I still can't believe to this day that the post-war Zionists and whoever enabled their little "utopia" to exist, couldn't foresee the instability it would bring to the region. I can't believe that last night on television I witnessed the President of the United States of America lean over towards Tony Blair and say, "See the irony is that what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over." What? First of all, the man obviously doesn't understand the idea of irony (put him in a room with Alanis Morissette and who knows what the hell would happen). Secondly, does he really think it's all that easy? Does he think he can just pick up the phone and tell Syria to stop Hezbollah? And why is he talking about international affairs while chewing on a bread roll? This is the man that many peoples hopes are riding on.

There will be no peace until the Israeli government realizes it is not perfect, it does not have sole claim to the Holy Land and that they have to negotiate. It won't end until Hezbollah and the Palestinians realize that launching rockets or blowing themselves up isn't getting them anywhere but dead. Both sides need to stop, take a deep breath, swallow their pride and meet in the middle. I'm afraid though that once again, as it has a thousand times throughout our history, hubris will conquer compromise.

That's awfully ambitious.

"Vote for Me, Have a Latte"

Some people have way too much time on their hands...and I'm glad.

Ground Level

One of my Special Olympics Athletes, Bonnie, died last week in her sleep. I was so sad when I got the call because she was so sweet and I'm tired of people dying. I went to the service last night (the official Catholic funeral is going on right now but obviously I'm not there because I'm here writing) and I'm glad I went even though it was difficult. I had never actually been to a funeral home before and I didn't really know what to expect. The family was so sweet and very happy that I had come. I went with the intention of sharing some stories about Bonnie that maybe the family didn't know and telling them what a sweet, kind and special person she was. I left feeling like they had given me something instead. Every person in the room, despite the enormity of their loss, made a point of thanking me for working with Special Olympics. I felt a bit bad until I realized that obviously they wantedto thank me. I had given thought to what the program means to the athletes but to be honest I had never considered it from the perspective of their families. Obviously it means more to them than I realized.

Bonnie has two special needs brothers who were both there last night. I went into the viewing room and one of the brothers John came with me. As we stood there over the body of his dead sister he started to cry and said to me, "Bonnie likes puzzles. She won't be doing any more puzzles." "No, she won't." I replied. "Bonnie is never going to go bowling again." he continued. I guess that's the strange thing about death. It means something different to everyone but it never hurts any less.

Seeing her body was a weird experience for me. It was the first time I had ever really seen a dead body (except for the time I failed miserably at CPR but he was newly dead and I was too exhausted to really stop and look at him) and it was strange. I have become insanely addicted to "Six Feet Under" as of late and they do a lot of embalming on that show. It's a really strange idea I think. There was Bonnie, only it wasn't Bonnie, and she had been stuffed and sewn and glued. For what? Apparently, for a lot of people, it is psychologically healthy to be able to see the body before it is buried so they can fully understand that the person is gone. Me, I would rather keep their living image in my head than be face to face with the remnants of what is left after death. Again, it's all a very personal thing and there is no right or wrong way to deal with it.

I said all the right things when I was there, "She's in a better place." "Yes, you're right, she was an angel." "That's a good way to think of it...her father and her are together now." It made me want to bite off my own tongue because I don't believe a word of it. But who the hell am I to take away the comfort those beliefs obviously bring them? I may be an atheist but I'm not a sadist.

Cowgirl Up...

Check out those boots!! Yee Haw!

Special Olympics

Last night was the wrap up party for Special Olympics. We ate pizza, laughed and talked and then played "Duck, Duck, Goose". I was put in charge of explaining to the group how the game is played. So I stood up and proceeded to teach them how to play. When I got to the running part I told them to chase the person around the circle until they sit down. Ooops. One of the other coaches quickly jumped in to explain that "Noooo, you run the opposite way of the person who tagged you." All of a sudden all the special athletes starting laughing and teasing me, "What's wrong with you? Don't you know how to play Duck Duck Goose?" "It's a baby game and you don't know it!" I felt like I was stuck in some weird Adam Sandler movie and the hilarity of it all struck me as I stood in the circle being taunted by a group of special olympians. Now that's funny. Another funny thing? If "Duck Duck Goose" ever becomes an Olympic Sport, Korea is screwed because a certain teacher taught all her kids the wrong way.


Some of my Special Friends...



Caroline and...Caroline

Brotherly Love

I wonder how the conservative "Choose Straight" advocates will explain this one away?

One of the best things about Calgary? What's outside of it.

We went camping in Kananaskis this weekend and it was incredible. I've always loved camping but the older I get, the more I appreciate the effect it has on me. My mind is more quiet when I'm outside and I feel so much more in tune with my own thoughts and the world around me.

When we got to our tent site, (which was the nicest camping spot Brian and I have ever had) we realized that the little portable barbecue was missing a crucial component and therefore would not be cooking any of our meals. I decided to try doing all the cooking over the fire and it turned out awesome. We had fresh fish with marinated veggies, mussels in the shell and garlic butter rice for dinner and a full cooked breakfast on Sunday. I don't know what it is exactly but food made outdoors always seems to taste better. Maybe there isn't any Teflon residue to numb my taste buds?

Here are some pics from our weekend:



Our camp spot was about 100 feet from the lake...what a view in the morning!



The hand of God?



Lower Kananaskis Lake at sunset...



The view from our tent window...

Summer Solstice

In an attempt to go back to our Pagan roots, Brian and I headed out to Big Rock (the closest thing we could find to Stonehenge) for a little midnight sun worship...

Do these pants make my ass look fatwa?

I've been waiting for this for a long time. Yesterday, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani ordered a fatwa barring shiite Muslims from terrorist activities. Until the Muslim community comes out, vocally, against terrorism it will not stop. I realize that Muslims are reluctant to create or maintain ties between terrorism and Islam but the fact is, most people now see them as at least related if not synonymous. The Muslim community cannot continue to sit back and wait for political leaders and police authorities to catch and stop Islamic extremists. It must come from an overflowing of Muslim frustration. Muslims must speak to their own people and urge them in the name of their religion, to stop. This recent fatwa is a step in the right direction.

Muslims are probably the most scrutinized, profiled and discriminated against people on the planet right now. (Unless of course you're a gay native who practices Falun-gong)I know many Muslims and have traveled to Muslim countries where I have visited mosques and had religious discussions with Muslims about the state of Islam in the world today. I would like to think that I know better than to be scared when I see a Muslim man in an airport. And yet...when I was flying from Calgary to London a couple of weeks ago, a man with a long beard moved to the front of the plane, near the emergency exit, and began praying. As he kneeled and bowed repeatedly, facing what I can only imagine was East, the plane became visibly nervous. I myself was getting agitated. I kept thinking "We're flying into London in an hour...freakin London where all I ever hear about are Muslim terrorist plots and now this guy is praying in front of the entire plane. Is he making his peace with God just before he brings this thing crashing down into the city centre?!" I know I wasn't the only person thinking this because the people around me were looking a little nervous too. Does this make me a bad person? Have I bought into the stereotype that much? I was angry at myself for being so afraid. The man was very nice and was obviously not setting out to kill us all. He just wanted to pray in peace and talk to his God. The only thing that alleviated my guilt was the fact that the very nervous people to my right were Muslim too.

Hannah McGrath

Scotland was a blur. It was also an emotional roller coaster. Happy to see my Uncles and Aunt, sad to see Grandma so ill. Happy she was alive when I got there. Sad to think she would never make it back to her little apartment where we all camped out during our stay. Happy to get the chance to be there at all.

Grandma knew I had come to see her. Although she couldn't talk she was able to move and respond to voices. When I spoke to her and stroked her hair she struggled to talk to me. It was hard to see her so agitated and frustrated. We spent our days at the hospital, taking turns with Gran, talking to her, touching her, singing...whatever we could do to make her comfortable and let her know we were there. On my last day in Scotland I had to say good-bye. She managed to lift her head, turn and open her eyes...just enough so that I knew she knew. I cried and kissed her on her soft cheek and I walked away. She died on June 6th.

I feel so lucky that I was able to go and see her. My Grandma and I were very close and we spoke every week or two. It was always the highlight of my weekend...she always made me laugh and I was always so happy to hear her voice. Many people I have spoken to have been surprised at how close we were. I never saw Gran as an old person or called her out of a sense of duty. I saw here as a friend and a reflection of myself. She was my hero and my teacher and the most positive, funny person I have ever known.

Death is such a strange thing. As humans we have been practicing it for millions of years and yet, nobody really knows how to deal with it yet. I don't feel sad for Grandma because I know that she had a good life. Yes, I would have liked to have her around longer, heck I would have wanted her here forever but things just don't work that way. She wasn't afraid of death and she didn't suffer. When she died she died in peace with her kids holding her hand. It doesn't get much better than that. I grieve more for my own Mum and for myself because we will miss her. It's been hard not to consider the obvious consequence of this, which is an upward shift in generations. Now my Mother is the oldest generation and as I stood there watching my Mum cry over my Grandma's bed I knew that one day that would be me, and then my daughter. The circle of life just got a little smaller.