Chuffed

Proud sister brags again...

Mental Meanderings

I can feel myself changing these days. My attitudes about the world and my place in it are morphing into a more mature and maybe more realistic version of their former selves. I always used to imagine myself at the helm of a family of globetrotters. International schools and summer safaris, kids learning their way through the world while really living in it. Christmas cards sent from a different continent every year.

In recent months I have started to see the benefits of staying put. I have started to realize that having good friends who you never see isn't so great. That it's hard to build and deepen relationships from afar and that there is something very powerful about being a part of your community. Having roots, and childhood friends. Bumping into people when you go shopping, having family nearby and developing friendships that go through ups and downs instead of time zones.

This new way of looking at the world might not last for long but it has allowed me to imagine a new way of life, one that hey, I'm already living.

In sort of related news, we're off to Mexico in less than 4 weeks!

Why I Run...

I run because it makes me feel strong and I need that right now.
Because it often feels, about 10 minutes into my run, like I just woke up.
I sometimes look down at my feet and they look like someone else's - an athletes.
I breathe so deeply I can feel the air reaching into every dark corner of my lungs, like light.
Because I can feel myself getting faster and lighter and better.
Because my new running tights make me feel like a Ninja.
I can listen to music and think about whatever my mind wants to think about, with no interruptions.
I smile at people when I pass them and they smile back.
Because I get a beautiful tour of the river side and downtown.
I push myself to go on when I feel like I can't and that empowers me in my other life.
Because I've lost 10 pounds and built muscle.
Sometimes the light in the afternoon is so bright and beautiful it makes me want to cry.
Because I can.

The Devil that you know...

I finally got all my test results back and was relieved to learn that they were normal. Well, except for the diabetes. Intellectually I knew that the chances of anything else being the cause of the diabetes were slim but it was still nice to hear that there wasn't some huge growth on my pancreas. That's always good news.

I'm waiting to see an endocrinologist which could take as long as a couple of months. In the meantime I am on oral medication to lower my blood sugars. They are actually working pretty well and for the last few days have been fluctuating in and out of the normal range. I'm feeling good despite the thousand and one holes in my fingertips. I feel a great sense of loss sometimes when I think about things that I may not be able to do. Brian and I were planning to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in May '08 and now I'm not sure if that's realistic. I sometimes find myself thinking, "Ooh, I'll make a lasagna this weekend..." only to realize that lasagna is now a thing of the past. And so is pizza, and cake and cookies. And although I know food does not make life it does make it better.

Having said that, the only thing that makes life more enjoyable than good food is not being dead and so I'm willing to sacrifice.

A least I didn't ask them to donate blood...

This past Christmas I decided to start a new tradition in our house and do an anonymous Secret Santa. I chose a single woman at my office and a family that lives across the street from us. I have seen this family out in the yard and smiled and waved but have never actually met them. The family consists of two little kids, a boy and a girl, the parents and the Grandma. They are immigrants from Africa and the Grandma would walk past our house dressed in beautiful Tribal dresses and matching head wraps. She always looks so regal and kind. I thought they would be a great family to "treat" over the Holidays.

Every week leading up to Christmas I left a little gift on their doorstep or in their mailbox. Chocolates, cookies, candles. Each gift had a little tag attached, "From your Secret Santa". I got such a kick out of imagining what they were thinking and the nice feeling that would accompany a secret Christmas friend.

That is until I found out that the family are Jehovah's Witnesses. And don't celebrate Christmas. And probably think I'm the devil.

Bah-humbug.

New Year's Resolutions

Do the Splits.
Play Squash at least once a week.
Call my friends more and make them more of a priority.
Write more.
Be at work on time.
Sit straighter. Walk straighter.
Be more gentle.
Get a baby.
Don't get worked up about things that aren't really that important.
Control blood sugars.
Run 4-5 times a week.
Have people over more often.

Bittersweet Evenings

Last week Brian and I went to see a play downtown. After it was over I went to the bathroom and bumped into a homeless woman I have spoken too several times before. She has always been so sweet and I recognized her right away and asked her how she was doing. She wasn't doing well. She looked a bit sickly and told me that she had been wearing the same clothes for three weeks and she stank and how hard it was. It broke my heart. I gave her a hug and promptly emptied my wallet. She cried. I cried and wished her well and left. It was all I could do to maintain my composure until I got back to the darkness of the parking lot and our car. As Brian closed the car door behind me I started to weep. I looked at all the little families walking to their BMW's, the little girls in Christmas dresses heading home to their warm and comfortable lives. How can that woman see that every day and still keep smiling? How can she not be overcome with anger and resentment at the unfairness of it all? On the way home I talked with Brian about what I could do the next time I see her. I suggested taking her home, letting her have a long soak in the tub, a good meal and some clean clothes. But then what? Send her back into the cold? It's hard to know what to do.

I decided that every chance I get to help someone like that, I will take. And in the meantime I will do my damnedest to appreciate every moment I have, every comfort I experience and every privilege I have not really earned. Tonight I am grateful for my family, my lovely husband and...my life. It's the least I can do.

Swimming

I think I have felt every emotion there is to feel in the past few days. I walk in to work and find myself face to face with a mountain of Christmas baking. I feel angry.

I eat my lunch and consider how healthy it always is, and realize that this change will be much easier for me than it would be for a lot of other people. I feel fortunate.

I measure my blood for the 12th time in 3 days and as I watch the little droplet raise above my skin I feel weak and scared.

I go running and despite everything going on I feel proud and powerful and strong.

I look at Brian and all I want is to have a baby and be a healthy little family and I feel devastated. Then I realize how lucky I am to have him at all and to have the love of my life to help me through and I feel so blessed.

I go to bed at 8:00, body tired, mind exhausted and I feel defeated.

And I wake up and start everything all over again.

A Long Weekend...

The idea that your life can change in an instant is a globally accepted one. It is rooted in truth but also in the intellectually abstract. Everyone knows this is true but it never really makes sense until it happens. This past week has been a crazy one for me. Full of blood tests, doctors appointments and since my family doctor is in another city, a lot of driving. And the end result? Diabetes.

Now, don't ask me to explain this. It's not type 2, the kind people usually get in adulthood. It's type 1. As far as we know. Long story short: Brian and I applied for life insurance which involved a urine sample from each of us. They came back for blood from me and then sent me an email the Wednesday before last saying that my results were abnormal and I couldn't get life insurance. Abnormal? What a horrible vague word to send, attached to a person's blood sample no less, over email! Of course I freaked, even though I tried not to and had to fight with the insurance company to fax my results to my Doc rather than send them by mail. When the doctor finally got them and saw that my blood sugar was slightly raised (8.1 mmol/L - cut off is 8.0 mmol/L) she assumed they had screwed up the test and actually referred to the insurance people as "dumbasses". She referred me for a series of tests for this past Friday.

The test she sent me for is supposed to take 2 hours. First they get your fasting blood sugar level and from there they give you a cup of glucose drink and then measure how you react to it over the following two hours. Only problem was, my fasting blood sugar was 16.6 mmol/L. Anything higher than 7.0 means Diabetes - mine was so high it wasn't even close to the line. I couldn't take the glucose tolerance test because putting more glucose in my system would have put me in a coma. The nurse was a freaked out and that made me freak out. She called my doctor right away and suddenly I was taking another day off work. I left the office in tears and felt totally overwhelmed and sideswiped. It was a very long day.

So that's that. The doc got me a blood glucose meter and I'm testing myself 4 times a day. I have an ultrasound, more tests and all kinds of doctor's visits looming throughout the Christmas holidays. And no sugar. Did I mention this is through Christmas!?! Who's ever heard of a Christmas without sugar. Ugh.

This past weekend has been a long one. I've felt sad, angry, confused, scared and tired. I feel a sense of loss greater than the individual losses I will face. I am mourning a way of life I didn't really even appreciate until now. I'm trying to figure out how at 28, in the best shape I've been in for a very long time, I could just one day, wake up with a disease like this. I don't even have any symptoms. It doesn't make sense. That's probably the hardest part is learning to accept something that doesn't make sense. I have very little control over this and it has made me feel betrayed by my own body. I have tried very hard to see the silver lining in all of this, and it is there, shimmering however faintly. I already have a very healthy lifestyle and have been eating very healthy anyway so this won't be as big a change as it might be for some people. I'm educated and informed and will have all the resources I will need to change my life. I'm not afraid of needles. I caught it early before I got too sick. It could always be worse.

So that's that. I felt horrible all day Saturday and my levels were really high. Yesterday they went down slightly and I'm feeling better. A little less vulnerable and a little stronger. Not as pissed off and more willing to approach this with patience and a positive attitude. And armed with proof positive that true to my Dad's opinion, I am definitely a Sweetie.

Finishing the Start

Tonight I went for a run under the last full moon of 2006 and it was beautiful.

I'm Begging Here People...

If you live in Alberta and you read my blog please do me a favour: Get a membership and vote in Saturday's 2nd ballot for the PC leadership election. This vote is probably the most important vote Alberta will see for years. Once the new premier is elected he does not have to call an election for another two years and doesn't have to actually hold one for three. This means we will have a premier with no provincial mandate - a government elected solely by the Conservative faction of the province. Some people are complaining that PC memberships are too easy to come by and are being bought up by non-conservatives. If becoming a member of the party and having a vote is what it takes to ensure I have a voice in our next government, so be it. If the newly elected premier were required to hold an election within six months of the leadership race I wouldn't feel so compelled to jump in where I may not belong. I care about this province and where it goes. I am opposed to everything that Ted Morton stands for and am terrified of the prospect of Premier Morton. You can buy a membership at the polling stations on Saturday and go here for information on where you can vote. The two top candidates are in a tight race and offer two very different futures for our province. Please, inform yourself and vote. It matters.

Read why, when and how here.

Just in case I forget...

Things that are bad for me:

Too many grey days in a row, inactivity, being alone, thinking too much, corn (you don’t want to know), sitting still for too long, stress, too much alcohol, too much internet, church, late nights, fighting with people I love, self-doubt.

Things that are good for me:

Being outside, running, being alone, laughing, talking with friends, a little bit of alcohol, psyllium fibre and flax, writing, reading, relaxing, picking at things (hair from brushes, grass from the cracks in pavement), massages, gardening, sex, pizza, voice mail messages, old friends, having a plan, early nights, long baths.

Welcome to the New Age

Raelians...all of them. I just knew it.



...and what's with the dirty look brother Bush is giving to Brother Harper?

Crush

Agghhh...I can't believe this. Dooce is in Calgary!! The woman I love, worship, strive to be...is in my city! Okay, so maybe that was a bit much but I am seriously considering taking the day off tomorrow to find her. She's the keynote speaker at the Lexi.net convention (registration is closed - I checked) but surely she'll have to step outside at some point. Right? I would do anything to sit down with her, Jon (her husband), Brian and I for some drinks. If I could get just get Kurt Vonnegut to join us I would die a happy woman. Not that I wouldn't die happy now - just a little less happy.

My new Kenneth Cole shoes...EBay rocks.

Kooky Kookster

I received the following comment on my blog regarding this post last week. Wow. I don't really know what to say (thanks to Bobbi who knew exactly what to say). I wish the anonymous poster had left his name, although I'm pretty sure I know who it is.

The poster later apologized and said I could delete his previous comment. (Gee, thanks for allowing me the privilege of deleting ignorant comments from my own blog.) The thing is, I don't want to delete it. I want to frame it. If I had a cross-stitching bone in my body I would have it on my wall when you walk in the door. The comment says more about right-wing nutjobs than I ever could. The fact that this person, who doesn't even know me, gets this angry over the word "kooky" says to me that he may have built his crazy house a little too close to the edge.

Wow, a female 28 year old journalist who's left wing; gee, there's HARDLY any of THOSE around.

Look bimbo, it's pretty obvious that you were too stupid, unmotivated, useless, lazy, egotistical and self important to study anything REMOTELY challenging or useful in college so you studied journalism. That way you sit on your fat ass and write snide remarks about others get paid for doing it and pretend your famous.
Maybe you should actually catch a grip BABY and realize you're not smarter than everybody else and no matter HOW CLEVER you think you are your just another journalist loser with no actual skills or talents thinking they are really performing some valuable community service by bitching about others.

I love that I have angry fans writing me hate mail. I feel like a Beatle or something.

Carrying a Card

I am a member of the Progressive Conservative Party of Alberta. Can you believe it? I still feel a little dazed by my most recent political move even though it makes sense. Since Alberta is sure to elect another Conservative Premier I thought it might be a good idea to have a say in who leads the PC party. With the likes of crazy, kooky Ted Morton running around talking about how he hates the Charter, I have to make sure that I have an active role in ensuring he stays on the farm where he belongs. So, I will be voting for the new leader in the next few weeks. Someone asked me if this now means that when the actual election comes around I will vote PC. I didn’t even have to think about that one – no. I have taken great steps by accepting reality and working within it but I’m not there yet. I’m just doing my part to ensure that the right moves as far left as possible.

The World is a Pigeonhole

Last night I went to watch Brian coach his Special Olympics basketball team. One of his athletes, Carolyn, was also one of my track athletes. As soon as she saw me she came running across the gym and gave me a big hug. It was nice to feel so liked. She sat down and we chatted. At one point she leaned over to me and pointed to Mick, one of the other coaches.
“I think he’s Jewish” she said.
“Pardon me?”
“I think he’s a Jew.” (She says “Jew” like it’s a dirty word)
“Really?” I said, thinking to myself, “Oh boy, this should be good”
“Yah. Look, he has sideburns. That means he’s a Jew.”

Once again I am forced to recognize that stereotypes extend into other stereotyped groups...and why shouldn't they? My Korean students thought Japanese people had slanted eyes and that products made in China were cheap. And my mentally handicapped friend is an anti-Semite.

Boring Beaver?

On Friday night Brian and I went to the James Blunt concert. It was at the Saddledome which seats about 20,000 people, so it was pretty big. Blunt was awesome and although we didn’t have great seats I could still see a lot and of course, there is always something special about live music. There was a British couple behind us and the guy kept yelling, “Go’on Jamie Lad” – it was quite funny. Near the end of the concert Blunt asked everyone to stand up and so we did. Most of the people around us stood up as well, although reluctantly. At one point the guy behind us cheering and yelling and said, “What’s wrong with this lot?” and his girlfriend responded quite loudly, “You’re not in England anymore love…you’re in boring Canada.” Which of course, got me thinking.

While living in Korea I encountered the idea of the “boring Canadian” for the first time. Prior to that I had only heard what party animals we were. It is strange to me that each of these stereotypes can coexist but they seem to. I have found Calgary to be very conservative and at the three last concerts I have been to, unlikely to move or sway to music. This bugs me. It’s one thing at a James Blunt concert given the style and music and the size of Saddledome but the Blue October concert was exactly the same. And the music was hard and the venue was small – two things conducive to a raucous party. Instead it was sober and static.

I realized that growing up in Fort Mac was a unique experience that until recently I took for granted. People who live up there do everything at full speed. Any concert or party I went to was loud, crazy and fun. You ran the risk of being stabbed but it was a good time. People work hard and they play even harder. Growing up I took for granted that when you want out, it was balls to the wall.

I left the concert feeling a little discouraged and frustrated. Sobriety can be contagious and it took the wind out of my sails a little bit. It reaffirmed my desire to get what I can from Calgary and then get out.

Lovestruck