Songs of Life, Love & Laughter

Say It Ain't So

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 12:41:00 +0000

I was watching the CHCH news this morning and Annette Hamm started a story with, "A man was found shot in an SUV that was left running...."

Have we gotten that blase about murder that they must add something that they think the public will react to.

Them: A man was found shot in an SUV.
Us: Yeah, whatever. Pass me the waffles.

OR

Them: A man was found shot in an SUV that was left running.
Us: Oh my god! Please tell me that they found it before it wasted too much gas. Oh, the poor SUV. Oh, and I never even thought of the people in the area that had to wake to all that polution. Oh, and what about the birds and other animals in the neighbourhood. Oh, what a shame!

Come to think of it, maybe we are that blase.

Welcome Nicholas Robert

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 15:44:00 +0000

This is Nicholas Robert Timmons, born February 19, 2009, at 5:07 pm, weighing 8 lbs 6 oz. Mom, dad, baby, and baby brother are all doing fine.

So, yesterday I started the morning by preparing for some medical tests. I went to the clinic and was put through a battery of tests on all parts of my body. Each test was done in a different room and meant that I had to take my clothes off, have the test, put my clothes back on, go to another room, take off my clothes, have the test done.....and so it went. After the third such test, I said to the technician, "God, now I know what it's like to be a whore, except you're the one making the money here. Hey, does that make you my pimp?" I'll post later about the tests, once I get all the results. I will say that the worst fears have been put to rest and everything other possibility will simply be a minor inconvenience.

I got home from the clinic and was looking forward to resting. I checked my cell phone to see if I had missed any calls. There was a text message from my daughter, "Can you call me at home when you have a minute? All ok right now." So I called and she told me that she was in labour but it was light and sporadic. She said she had an appointment with her doctor that afternoon and she wondered if she should go. I said as long as she wasn't in heavy labour, she should keep the appointment and maybe the doctor could get things moving. I didn't want her to go alone, however, so I drove her and I watched Grandson number 1 while she was seeing the doctor. A while after Crystal went into the office, someone came out and asked if I were Crystal's mom. I said I was and she said "Crystal is 8 cm dialated. You need to take her to the hospital. Now. And don't stop". So all the necessary phone calls were made (her husband, my husband) and off we went. I arranged for Peter to meet me in front of the hospital. He jumped in my car and took Grandson number 1 to his other grandmother's house and then he went back to work.

Things happened pretty quickly from that point on. I won't get into the gritty details. It was planned that I was going to be in the room with Crystal when she delivered her baby, as I was for Grandson number 1. The problem was that I was appearing in a play. We had discussed this in advance and she was okay with the fact that I may not be there for the birth or that I would be late for it or that I would have to leave just before it, depending on what time she started. As long as her husband was with her. So, here we were in the delivery room together, no husband in sight and my "call time" for my play looming. Crystal was looking a little panicked. I said, "Don't worry. If Stevie doesn't arrive for whatever reason, nothing could drag me out of this room...play be damned". She let out a long-held breath. I had guessed exactly what she was thinking.

Stevie did arrive and at about 4:30 or so, I said, "Crystal, you have two choices if you want me to be here for the birth: you can deliver this baby by 5:30 or you can cross your legs and wait until 8:00 pm, when I get done with the play."

At 5:00 pm, the nurse came in and told Crystal that she was going to do a couple of "test pushes" to see how that went. Crystal gave one big push and the nurse said, "Okay sweetie. That's enough. I have to get the doctor".

At 5:07 pm, Grandson number 2 was born.

One thing I have to say about Crystal....she was always a good girl and listened to her mama!

********************
Note: The ladybug is symbolic of my grandmother and of my mother. We lost my mother in November and the ladybug was a huge source of comfort for me (see post: See You Later, Mom). Last night, I got home from the hospital (where I had gone after my play) and saw my cousin's status update on facebook "...is wondering why there is a ladybug crawling along my bathroom window....Also, congratulating my cousin Crystal and Steve on their new baby boy!!!!"

I was wondering when and how mom would show up.

It's Tough To Be Somebody

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 19:26:00 +0000

I'm appearing in Black Box Fire's -- It's Tough To Be Somebody
at the Staircase Cafe Theatre 27 Dundurn St. North, Hamilton (map)

Friday, February 13 at 7:00 PM
Saturday, February 14 at 2:00 PM
Saturday, February 14 at 7:00 PM
Thursday, February 19 at 7:00 PM
Friday, February 20 at 7:00 PM
Saturday, February 21 at 2:00 PM
Saturday, February 21 at 7:00 PM

General tickets - $20.00
Student/Senior tickets - $18.00
Reserve online before February 11, 2009, to save $2.00

Pretty Tough and Alone is an engaging theatrical triple-header - great for chasing the February blues away! The evening begins with It's Tough To Be Somebody, a fast-paced comedy demonstrating the latest developments in fame awareness education. Then the winners of Black Box Fire's first monologue competition will perform, followed by PYG - a one-woman comedy about finding romance without losing yourself.

For information about a Valentine's dinner and show special -- click here

****

Video courtesy of:
Chris Farias, Creative Director
Kitestring Creative Marketing and Communications
Blog
Personal Website

Smoke-Free Groundhogs

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 12:45:00 +0000

Four things happened on February 2, 1998:

Both Willie and Phil saw their shadows.
I woke with a feeling of dread.
I headed for the gym for my first workout.
I slapped on an anti-smoking patch after my workout.

Winter lasted another six weeks.

The feeling of dread lasted for a few months.

The gym lasted for about a year.

The smoking cessation lasted for 11 years -- and counting.

Here's Mud In Your Ear

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 13:04:00 +0000

When I was younger (I'm not sure exactly what age but I was old enough to walk home from school by myself -- which was pretty young WAAAAAYYYYY back then), mom made appointments for me to see the ear specialist. I was just getting a check-up because I had chronic ear infections as a child.

Mom sent me to school with a note allowing me to leave school early. It was raining that day so she warned me "Don't walk through Burkholder School because it'll be full of mud". Now, why did she have to go and say that? She might as well have shaken the chicken bones and put a full-
blown curse on my head.

Both my teacher and I forgot to watch the time and I left school about 20 minutes later than I should have. I knew I had to get home quickly or mom was going to blow a gasket. I decided to cut through Burkholder School to save some time. (See? What'd I tell ya?).

About halfway across the field, I walked through a puddle and one of my feet sunk into the mud and it became stuck. No problem. I firmly planted the other foot and was able to get the stuck foot out. Only to find that the second foot was stuck instead. CRAP!!!! What the heck was I going to do? I did what any young girl would do...I screamed my ass off. I screamed until I was hoarse. Of course, no one heard me. I was too far from the school and it was mid-day. Everyone was still in school or taking advantage of the kids being in school. I imagine if any of the housewives heard me screaming, they just decided to ignore it until their "stories" were over.

Screaming didn't bring the police, fire and ambulance so I knew I had to try something else. I was wearing those boots that you put over shoes so I thought maybe I'd take the boots off and walk in my shoes. Nope. That would get my shoes all muddy and they were my new runners and mom would kill me. Scratch that idea.

AHA! It came to me. I bent at the waist, leaned way over and grabbed both feet at the toes with my hands and started pulling up. Yup. I was gonna pull both feet out of the mud at the same time. It was working too. I felt my toes lifting from the mud...WHOO HOO!

THUNK....SQUISH....

While I was bent over, I lost my balance and did a summersault to land flat on my back in the mud. I was completely covered in mud. Literally, mud from head to toe.

I think that was the first time I ever prayed for aliens to swoop down and scoop me up. Yeah, only the first time.

Cat-o-Log

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 13:19:00 +0000

I love cats. I own four of them. Or they own me. Bear also loves cats. He's the one, however, that keeps me in check. When I see an incredibly cute cat that needs a loving home, Bear will say "Bernie, we have four cats already. We don't have room for any more." Of course, he means no room in our home because there is always enough room in our hearts to love more cats.

This past weekend, we went to the new PetSmart near our home. It's pretty big and I asked for directions to the cat food. As a gentleman was guiding me to the right isle, I lost Bear. I heard him say "Oh cats" and he was gone. I found the food and then went to find Bear because the bag was too big for me to lift. I found him at the "Adopt-a-thon". There were cages and cages of cats. He was standing in front of one cage that housed two black Siamese-cross cats. A woman came out of the back and said "You can go inside and hold them if you'd like." I politely said "Oh, no thanks. That's okay." Bear said "I'd like to". And that was the end of that.

We are now foster parents to the most adorable cats you have ever seen. They are both female and we think they are sisters.

Hugs (pictured above on your left) is approximately five years old and very, very loving. She loves to sit beside you or on you -- but does not like to be picked up. She's very calm and likes to be scratched.

Kisses (pictured above on your right) is approximately three years old and is also very, very loving. She is the more skittish of the two but, after a day and a half, is now integrated into our family. She also likes to sit with you and she loves to be scratched. She also does not like to be picked up.

Hugs and kisses were rescued from a cat hoarder. They are very close to one another and we are looking for a home for them together. They are litter trained. They get along very well with other cats and they are great with kids (our 18 month old grandson). They are spayed, have had their needles, and have been treated for fleas and worms.

We are fostering through Abandoned Cats Rescue.

If you are interested in these cats (or if you're interested in fostering), please send an email to bernie@bernieandbear.com and I can answer any questions you may have.

Stealing His Thunder

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 13:14:00 +0000

Stealer is about 12 or 13 years old now. We're not sure exactly how old he is because he was a rescue. We've had him since (we guestimate) he was a year old. Stealer is (or was) our Alpha Male. If you look closely at his picture, you'll see that he has a chunk out of his right (your left) ear missing. That's from one of his many, many scraps.

Lately, Stealer has been slowing down. He still plays and he still gets into squabbles with the other cats (we have four altogether). But lately, he's been the one to back down. All three of the other cats have taken to showing Stealer his place. That's pretty normal when there is an "Alpha Male" position opening up. What's not normal is that Winnie has also been putting Stealer in his place. Until now, Winnie has been more of a female cat. He grooms the other cats, he cuddles them, and he's been the "mom".

Now, Stealer walks across the living room to get to his favourite spot on the heating vent and it's like crossing a battle field. One or another of the cats will stare him down until he turns away or take a swat at him and eventually pin him down until he he's able to get up and run away.

It's a sad thing to watch a leader fall from the podium. Sad until you remember that what they are doing to him, he did to them. Except he showed now mercy where they are showing some.

I've said it before and I'll say it again -- What goes around comes around so be nice to the other cats in your home.

Excuse Me if I Sound Bitter

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 13:37:00 +0000

My brother and his wife are separated and have been since the summer. They have two children -- a young son and a daughter who is 18 (and five months pregnant).

When I spoke with my sister-in-flaw about the separation, she was angry. Okay, I get that. At one point, the conversation went like this:

Sister-in-flaw: Your brother is in for a big surprise. I'm going to screw him over.

Me: You do realize who you're talking to, don't you?

Sister-in-flaw: What?

Me: I'm his sister. I may still be friends with you but you are talking about my brother. I'm not going to get involved in your drama, but I'm also not going to sit idly by and watch my brother get screwed over by you.

Sister-in-flaw: But I thought you were on my side.

How dense do you have to be?

It did not end there. I mean that conversation ended, but her ability to amaze me didn't end.

When mom was in the hospital just before she passed away in November, my step-father managed to get hold of my sister-in-flaw and let her know (she had no telephone). Shortly after that, she called me to tell me how sorry she was. I appreciated that and I told her so. Then she started to launch into a laundry list of horrible things my brother was doing to her. I said, "I have enough going on in my life right now and I don't need to deal with your shit". And I hung up on her.

Still does not end there.

My brother had just left Edmonton to come home when my mother suffered her heart attack and we had no way of reaching him. As a family, the rest of us made the decision to remove my mother from life support but we also decided to give my brother one more day to arrive home to be there for it. My sister-in-flaw knew that and she knew we were going to be at the hospital the next day to remove my mother from life support. My brother made it on time and he was there with her at the end.

When he left the hospital, there were police officers waiting for him. His story (and I only have his side) is that they were there so that he could let them (and my sister-in-flaw) into the house so she could get her belongings. I'm not sure if there's more to that story or not -- but my brother did drive away in his own van -- not the police cruiser.

My sister-in-flaw thought it was appropriate to send the police to wait for my brother on the very day he just watched his mother die?!!!?

Still doesn't end there.

She decided that that was also an appropriate day to serve him with court papers for sole custody of their son.

Now I know why they invented the word "c*nt".

Oh Look, a Segue ..er.. Segway

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 14:26:00 +0000

Just before Christmas, Bear and I went to the Dominican with two other couples. While there, we took a one-hour tour on a Segway. I absolutely loved it. I took to it like a duck to water. When we first started out, they had us on "turtle" mode -- meaning it had a governor and it wouldn't let us go fast. After about five minutes, we all got off the machines and they set them to a faster mode -- but not the fastest, I'm sure.

Bear and I loved going as fast as we could make it go. But the rest of the group wasn't really into that. So, Bear and I stayed at the back and we would go very, very slow to let everyone get ahead of us and then we'd open them wide open and catch up.

On one such maneuver, I was catching up to the person ahead of me. I didn't realize how quickly I was catching up until it was too late. There are no brake lights on those things and the person ahead of me slowed down almost to the point of stopping, very quickly. That wasn't hard because she hadn't been going very fast in the first place. I, on the other hand, had been going very fast (for a Segway).

There was no way I was stopping. I tried and I slowed down considerably. And I tried to turn to pass her instead of hitting her. As a result only one of my tires hit her tire. She was fine. She only felt a little bump. Had she been moving, it might have been worse for her. Me? I was moving.

I'm not sure exactly what happened then. But it all happened very, very quickly. I know one of my feet flew off the platform. Instead of trying to put it back on, I tried to jump off. But I couldn't jump off because my leg was wedged between the inside "hump" on the platform and the wheel hub. I was completely out of control. I saw myself heading for the bushes and a ravine (about six feet deep). Suddenly, I was airborne! I flew headfirst over the handles and into the ravine. I must have summersaulted because when I can to a stop (about four feet down) my head was facing up toward the road.

As soon as I came to a stop and took a breath to assure myself that I was indeed breathing, I yelled as loud as I could "I'm okay. I'm okay." I knew Bear would be panicking and I wanted to let him know that I was at least alive. Beyond that, I had no idea.

Suddenly, a bunch of Segway guides showed up, lifted me to my feet and hoisted me out of the ravine. I was okay. Nothing broken. I had a few scrapes on my lip and chin. I had a minor cut on my hand. My leg (where it had been wedged by the wheel well) had a goose egg sized lump on it. I had a half a missing baby toe nail and I had a little cut on the top of my foot. I think I got off really lucky.

When I thought about getting back on the Segway, I was terrified. For that reason, I said "Get me back on that thing while I still can". I got on. I was shaking and I was a little bit teary. But as I got going, the fear receded and I started to enjoy myself again. I even rode one the next day without a bit of fear.

The story does not end there. Our guide was maybe 20 years old. He was very, very sweet. He kept asking if I was okay and he kept apologizing. We stopped to take some pictures and again he kept apologizing and asking if I were okay. He also got out a first aid kit and was putting anti-bacterial something or other onto a piece of cotton as I was assuring him that it was not his fault and I was okay. I held my arms wide and said "Look at me. I'm fine." He smiled and took my hand. "See" I said, "It's just a little scratch. Doesn't hurt at all." He dabbed it with the cotton. I drew my hand back quickly and screamed,

"OH MY GOD! THAT HURTS! IT BURNS!"

He was horrified. Until I started laughing. "I'm just kiddding. It's fine". Thankfully, he also had a sense of humour. He laughed as well. But I think he may have pushed just a little bit harder with the cotton after that. GRIN

So, now the scrapes and cuts on my chin, lip, hand and foot have healed. My baby toe nail is growing back. The bruises from my leg have faded to almost nothing I only have a bit of pain if I roll over on that leg, but that is fading more and more each day.

But I have some great photos and a wonderful memory of my very first Segway ride.

See You Later, Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 13:49:00 +0000

On November 26, 2008, after a lengthy and courageous battle, mom quietly slipped away while surrounded by her loving family.

On the Thursday before she passed, I received a telephone call from my step-father because he had been in a minor car accident (no one was hurt) and he wanted me to come and get him and mom from the hospital (she was having a treatment) and then drive them both home. When I arrived, my step-father was still dealing with the police and waiting for a tow truck. I sat in the car for about an hour with mom, just chatting -- about nothing and about everything. I didn't know that would be my last real conversation with her. I've said it before and I will say it again and again, "Everything happens for a reason". What a gift I was given.

We had a Celebration of Life for mom at the Staircase. It seems most major events in my life take place there. My daughter told mom she would be a great-grandmother there. I've had various birthday parties there. I was married there. I celebrated my mom's life there.

I can't begin to guess how many songs I have sung at the Staircase. The first time mom heard me sing Cabaret, she told me that I had to sing that for her at her funeral. Of course, I told her I would do no such thing -- that would be inappropriate. She reminded me many times in the next few years of that wish. When the time came, I could not imagine standing in front of a roomful of people and singing Cabaret. I like the spotlight, but not that way. I did, however, find a compromise. I copied Liza Minelli's version to my iPod and printed 25 lyric sheets. We played the song and everyone sang along. Probably none louder than me, when I could. I know she heard it.

I also wrote something for my mom but was unable to read it at the celebration so Bear read it for me. I'd like to share it with you.

********

I remember sitting next to my mom at various family weddings as I was growing up. She would groan and roll her eyes through just about every speech there was. Inevitably I would hear her mutter, “Oh my god. Let’s just get to the good stuff.” So, I won’t take too much of your time.

First, I need to explain that the ladybug is a symbol of my grandmother, it’s a symbol of my mother and I hope one day it will be my symbol.

When I was young, my mom taught me a little verse:

Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone

I was horrified. I asked mom why a ladybug, why anyone, would leave their children alone and at risk of danger. Mom explained that mothers couldn’t always be there for children. It was impossible. She said the important thing to remember was that moms might not be there all the time, but they were only ever a whispered “Mom, I need you” away.

And she was. I didn’t even have to whisper it and mom knew. I’d be feeling down about something and my phone would ring. “Kimberly, what’s wrong” and we’d talk.

She’s still there for me now.

When mom had her heart attack, I came home from the hospital in the early afternoon after spending most of the night with mom. I was exhausted but pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I walked into my kitchen and found a wooden ladybug lying in the middle of the floor. It had fallen off a pencil that was stuck on my fridge with a magnet. I took that ladybug into the bedroom with me, put it on my night table next to me and I slept.

Then, just last week, I was leaving work early to pick up mom’s ashes. I was weepy and dreaded going. My car is red and it has a ladybug vanity licence plate. I stopped at a stop light and saw a woman in my review mirror approaching my window. I put it down a bit and she said “Oh my god. A ladybug. How very perfect. How it suits you. All the best to you and your family.” And she walked away laughing and going on about my ladybug car. And I felt better.

Yeah. She’s there for me.

I had a lot of trouble writing these words until I remembered that when I was growing up, I was never allowed to say good-bye to my mom. If I did, she’d say “Don’t say good-bye. Say, see you later”.

So, I love you mom and I’ll see you later.

********

I love you mom and I'll see you later.

The Key to Success

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 13:56:00 +0000

My grandson, Doodle, is 17 months old. He was over on Christmas Day. We have a baby gate that we put up so he can't escape the living room (about the only room in our home that his toddler proofed at this point).

Doodle took a set of keys from Aunt Tee Tee and he took them over the baby gate. He put one of the keys into the handle that we push in order to remove the gate. When that didn't work, he went on to the next one. He tried each key, probably twice.

Then he stood there with the keys clenched in his tiny little fist and he said "nnnnnneeeeeeeennnnn", which sounded something like what Opa says when he can't get something to work the way he would like....without the swearing of course. Then he went back to trying each key again.

Yeah, he has a lot of his Opa in him.

Here I Am

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 19:00:00 +0000

I am no longer blogging on Blog Spot. I mean, I am but it won't show up there anymore. I now post on my own web-site www.h2h-entertainment.com/blog.

I am mostly doing this post because it's a test to see how it works.

I also found out that Facebook will not let me import my blog via my own web site, so I'll just post to my provide whenever I update it.

Bernie Dream Phone

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 14:16:00 +0000

I wasn't going to write about this because it's weird and people think I'm weird enough already, without confirming it for them.

But I told some people and they thought it was freaky -- but they also thought it was cool. So, at the risk of being shunned as a loonie (even more than I am now), here goes:

While The Perfect Man is in China, we communicate using Skype. During the evening on Tuesday, I kept Skype open on the computer in the office at home and cranked the volume so I would hear any alerts. Just before I went to bed, I turned the speakers off but left Skype running so The Perfect Man could write little love notes to me (as he often does).

Yesterday, something woke me up at 5:09 am. I wasn't sure what it was but thought it could have been a door opening or something falling. I picked up my cell phone and watched out the door in case I saw a light come on and I listened to see if I could hear anything else. I stayed that way until about 5:20 am, then figured it was one of the cats that made the noise. I tried to go back to sleep. Uh uh. No way. I tried until about 5:40 am and then thought I'd get up because I get up at 6:00 am anyway.

I went through my usual ritual:

pick up book and exit bedroom

go into spare bedroom and open blinds for the cats

go into bathroom and [removed for modesty's sake]

go into living room and turn on lights and put book down

go into kitchen and turn on lights, open curtains, and take pill

go into office, fire up the computer, sit down and check the usual stuff

WTF?!? There, as big as the computer screen would allow it to be, was a message from The Perfect Man.

Left at 5:09 am.

I checked the speakers -- they were off.

Bull on a China Stop

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 20:54:00 +0000

At 2:45 pm this afternoon, my life ended.

Okay, nothing so dramatic. The Perfect Man left for China and will be gone until Sunday. Almost a complete week apart. I can't count the number of people that have said "Oh, it's only a week. I'd welcome the break" or words to that effect and always with a hint of jealously - "You lucky dog" written all over their faces. I don't understand that attitude. I really don't. I understand the whole needing space and needing your own time. I enjoy it -- in small doses. But eventually I miss him like crazy. And that only takes about...oh....ten minutes or so.

And, of course, all those nasty thoughts have gone through my head about a jazillion times. You know the thoughts. I'm not going to give voice to them by writing them here but they are the worst possible thoughts to have when a loved one is about to get on an airplane. It doesn't help that this morning, we had "the talk". You know the one -- location of important papers, computer passwords, which cat gets his favourite shirt. -- that kind of thing. {{{{shudder}}}} A necessary evil, but necessary all the same.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I love The Perfect Man and I hope he has a very safe and happy trip.

Smoke and Mirrors

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 03:19:00 +0000

My mother was diagnosed the lung cancer a number of years ago. Seems hard to believe that you can put those words together in one sentence and then go on to say that she's still living. But she is. And I'm very, very grateful.

Easter Sunday, mom came to the house for an Easter Buffet (with the rest of our family). Mom wasn't feeling very well and said she had a touch of bronchitis. On Monday evening, my step-father called and said that mom had been taken to hospital because she had started coughing and could not get her breath. He said her oxygen levels were very low.

Tuesday morning I went to visit her. She was still in emergency because they didn't have a bed for her. While I was there, the lung specialist came in. He proceeded to give her royal what for because -- and this will be hard to believe but after 8 years with lung cancer -- my mother still smokes. Yeah. She smokes. Cigarettes. The very things that have given her a death sentence to begin with.

I found out two other very important things that morning.

1. My mother has COPD -- short for Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. It's cumulative and not curable. The most you can hope for is to slow it down and (sometimes) reverse its effects a little. The doctor said she could still live years with her cancer but she only had months with COPD if she continued to smoke.

2. My mother has been under the impression that she has lung cancer because cancer runs in her family. In her mind, cigarettes had nothing to do with it and she was going to get it any way. At least, that's what she told herself. I guess on some level it's easier to swallow than the knowledge that you signed your own death certificate.

We were all guilty of much the same thing. When mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, she made a good honest try to quit smoking. Then she slowly went back to it....pretty much with everyone's blessing. Our attitude was more of "Well, the damage is done now and she has so little else to look forward to and it's so hard to quit and and and and" so on and so on and so on. What none of us considered (or admitted to ourselves more like) was that she was speeding up the clock (or maybe running down the clock much quicker) by continuing to smoke.

She has quit. I threw away the cigarettes she had at the hospital. My step-father gave away the cigarettes she had at home and he cleaned and put away her ashtray. My brother (who usually picked up her cigarettes for her) has agreed that he will not do that any more.

She has quit. It may have been one of her joys in life and it may be the hardest thing for her to do. But I'm selfish. We're all selfish. Damn right I expect her to do it.

She has quit.

I'm not ready to say good-bye.

What's good for the goose....

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 21:02:00 +0000

A few years ago, I was with a group of people -- some I knew well and others I did not. The facilitator of the group asked a fairly simple question that required each of us to look inside ourselves to determine what kind of people we were and what motivated us. A pretty simple thing to ask of someone and it should be a fairly simple thing for someone to do.What it did for me was open a floodgate of feelings. My carefully built walls and barriers crumbled and allowed me to feel all the terror, hatred and self-loathing that I had hidden from for most of my life.

Suddenly, they all came from nowhere and filled my body, heart and soul. I sort of shut down at that point. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping. I didn't smile or laugh or participate much in life except by automatic response. Someone, thankfully, recognized what was going on and directed me to seek the support of a wonderful counsellor and I ended up seeing her for a couple of years. I'm probably not completely finished with that journey, but I did enough that I could go on and deal with life again. Now, I also have an amazing man in my life and I'm experiencing true trust for the first time.

Sounds pretty wonderful, huh? Except that I have been told that it’s mandatory for me to attend a function much like that one a few years ago. We’ve been given very little information about what to expect. Some people have bandied about such terms as “introspective exercises” and “searching within ourselves”. Those were the very same exercises we did a few years ago.

Now my concern has turned to outright terror. I’ve had trouble getting to sleep. When I do sleep, I’ve been having more nightmares than normal.It’s not about whether or not I want to participate. It’s not about being afraid of secrets or ulterior motives. It’s about recognizing my triggers and it’s about my desire to maintain the status quo.

Spiderman said “With great power comes great responsibility.” I can’t say it any better.

Song's Gift To Me

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 18:40:00 +0000

I know of a drop-in group for young teens who are living on their own with no families and no family support. They meet once a week and have guests and they learn things like budgeting. Once in a while, they get to do fun things. They had a couple of fund raisers for themselves and earned money to go to Canada's Wonderland as a group.

Peter and I volunteered our services and ran karaoke for a night back in May. It touched me on so many levels. I think the best part of it, for me, was watching the kids support and encourage each other. There was not one single "boo" when someone went off-key. There was a lot of laughter and several mighty cheers as each person finished singing. I choked up many times while I was standing back and watching.

Today, I received one of the best emails I think I have ever recevied. The drop-in just celebrated it's first anniversary. The kids were asked to vote and our karaoke night was selected as Favourite Guest/Activity and they've asked us back.

Those who know me, know that I revel in giving the gift of song. It's why I run karaoke. Every once in a while, song gives me a gift back. This is one of those times.

CH Morning Dive

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Wed, 18 Jul 2007 12:30:00 +0000

Last night at 11:00 pm, The Perfect Man boarded a plane for Brazil and was scheduled to land around 8:30 am. This morning, I woke up and turned on the news. The first thing I heard, was "Coming up, we'll tell you about a plane that went down in Brazil killing 190 passengers."

WHAT???

Okay, calm down. What are the chances? No, this can't be. Please god, this can't be. Wait, I don't believe in god. Why don't I believe in god? Please, please, please, this can't be.

Then, finally, the segment came on. They didn't give much more information on the segment other than that the plane hit a gas station and there were bodies strewn everywhere.

WHAT???

What flight number? Where did the flight originate? How many Canadians on board? Was The Perfect Man listed as one of the survivors? Oh wait, there were no survivors.

NO SURVIVORS!!!!

I ran to the computer and went to American Airlines and punched in the information for his flight.

Status: on time

But would they put online that the plane had crashed? Probably not. My god, why don't I believe in god?

I googled "Brazil plane crash" and the first hit was a story from 2006.

C'mon!

I finally found the story from today and learned that it was a flight to Sao Paulo and The Perfect Man flew to Rio.

{{{slump}}} Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Unclench fingers. Stop biting lip. {{{ouch}}} Blood. Where did that come from? Ahhhh I'm feeling a little lightheaded.

I realize that my relief pales in comparison to the grief that must be felt by those that loved the ones who actually died in the crash in Sao Paulo. My heart goes out to each and every one of them.

Fortino's - Supermarket With the Smarts

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 12:00:00 +0000

The Perfect Man and I purchased a screened gazebo at Fortino's in mid-April, which we erected, according to instructions, in our backyard.

One day we came home from work to find the gazebo on its roof. One support bar had snapped completely off and the other was off on one side, and broken on the other. As well, one of the support bars had punctured the tarp.

I sat down at my computer and I wrote a letter to the managers of Fortino's and explained what had happened. I told him that, although I still had my bill, I no longer had the packaging for the gazebo. I faxed that letter yesterday. At approximately 7:45 this morning, the manager called me and told me to bring back the gazebo and he would "make it right".

Fortino's will stand behind their products.

An Elephant Never Forgets....

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 12:55:00 +0000

I normally wouldn’t post a story like this, especially because I can’t confirm if it’s true (and it’s probably not true); however, it’s very interesting nonetheless.

In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University.

On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Mbembe approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.

The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away. Membe never forgot that
elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Mbembe was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Mbembe's legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn't the same elephant....

Choke the Chicken

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 12:28:00 +0000

The building I work in has undergone some major renovations. So major, that we're having a "Grand Reopening and Rededication" Ceremony. All the mucky-mucks will be touring so we all have to make sure that our offices our cleaned and our half-naked fireman calendars are out of sight.

Management has hired someone to put "artwork" up on our walls. Some woman poked her head in my office yesterday, and despite the fact that I was on the phone she asked "Do you want a goose or a pelican?" I pointed to the phone. "Oh sorry" she said. Then continued "I just wondered if you wanted a goose or a pelican". This time I covered the phone and said, "I'm on the phone." Good. Now she understands. "Oh. Okay. Just tell me if you want a goose or a pelican."

I swear, I am not making this up.

I asked my called to hold for a moment and I said, "I have absolutely no opinion one way or another. You can do whatever you want." Then I got up and closed my office door.

She put the goose up (the first picture above). That picture is a copy of the actual print that's hanging outside my office door. Everytime I look at it, I think of men masturbating (choking the chicken).

I actually got off easy. A vast majority (at least 98%) of the prints hanging in our building are birds. Of those, probably 80% are birds killing other animals (the second picture above). Most of them are pretty dark and some of them are actually pretty scary for adults.

Keep in mind that I work in an industry and has much contact with children. Children who will walk through our halls. Children who have already witnessed too much in their short lives.

EDITED TO ADD: I just noticed that there is a second goose in the print and he actually appears to be giving "head" to the first goose. For the love of humanity....

Empire Strikes Out

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 13:30:00 +0000

Last night, The Perfect Man and I met with a sales representative from Empire Carpet and Flooring. Those "perfect" sales techniques they insist their reps use are the very reason I will never deal with that company. I'd suggest if you don't like to get the "runaround" and hear incredible stories about other people choosing the very carpet you just pooh-poohed, then don't ever make that 1-800 call.

We told the rep that we were selling the house and wanted cheap, cheap, cheap. The rep absolutely refused to tell us which of his sample books was the cheapest product. I finally had to tell him straight out that our meeting was over unless he told us. He grudgingly pointed to one book. Two seconds later, we had our carpet picked out.

Then came the pricing. Oh my god! I don't need to know what the MRSP is. I don't need to know what private deal your not "authorized" to give me but will anyway and I certainly don't need to know about your friend that doesn't have a car so you had to drive him all the way in from Kitchener. I just want the bottom line.

Finally, we get the his "absolute, I promise you" bottom price. $5,400.00 including tax. We hadn't done any research yet, so we had no idea if that was a good price and we told him so. I actually saw sweat pop out on his forehead. "How much were you thinking of spending?" he asked. I pulled a very low figure out of my head and said, "$4,000.00". "Well, let me make a phone call and see what I can do."

WHAT THE HOLY CHEESE CRACKERS ARE YOU DOING?

He made his phone call and came back with $4,600.00 but he could give us another $350.00 off if we agreed to put a sign up outside out home for seven days. Then he leaned in close like the spies from Alexanian Carpet and Flooring had bugged the place and said, "Don't worry. As soon as the installers leave, you can remove the sign from outside. We'd never know."

HUH???

So, now we're at $4,250.00, down $1,150.00 from his "absolute, I promise you" bottom price. I wanted to try to get him down a little lower just to see if I could. Alas, The Perfect Man was tired and hot. He said, "We're not making any deals tonight. Leave it with us to do some research and we'll get back to you."

Then we got a sob story about how this guy gets a commission (aha, so there is room to go down more -- these are the company offered incentives and we haven't even touched your commission yet - oh but it's late and we're tired) and he drove all the way from Kitchener and he doesn't get any of his expenses back for that.....blah blah blah. So, he asked if we would sign the deal then do our research so he wouldn't have to come back again to do the paperwork "Not that I don't like you nice people, but the gas, you understand." So, we signed the deal to shut him up.

Today, The Perfect Man called and cancelled.

That's another two hours of my life I'll never get back. Between that and Ghost Ship, I'm watching my life float away.....

Joss Whedon on "Violence Against Women" a MUST read

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Fri, 25 May 2007 12:44:00 +0000

Thank you to Craig for sharing this.

Click here for an incredible message from Joss Whedon.

The Door Closes -- Finally

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Thu, 03 May 2007 19:36:00 +0000

Once upon a time I had two best friends, Michelle and Kellie. They were first friends of the Adult and I met them through him.

I lost them in the divorce. It always bothered me that I lost them. I just never understood. I never would have dreamed of putting them, or trying to put them, in the middle. I never, ever would have bad-mouthed The Adult. I bad-mouth him all the time, but I had the courtesy and common-sense of not doing it with his friends. (If any of his friends are reading this, you do so by your own choice. This is my blog and I'll say anything I want in here. Same goes for the Adult, should you find your way in here.)

Anyway, I found out that The Adult told them lies. Seems the fact that he was an immature, thoughtless jerk who blamed me for my own childhood sexual abuse wasn't enough of a reason for us to get a divorce. I confronted him about the lies and reminded him why I asked for a divorce (without actually using the words " immature" or thoughtless jerk". He admitted that he was "probably wrong" about the lies he told and then made the statement that vindicates my calling him "The Adult" -- "if you wouldn't have broken us up when you did, I probably would have soon". You go man and while you're at it, why don't you tell your boss, "You can't fire me, I quit". Ass!

So, back to Kellie and Michelle. I wrote to them both recently. I swallowed my pride and I poured out my heart and soul. I said things that humiliated me; things I had only spoken of to The Perfect Man and in my journal.

I wasn't expecting an immediate reunion or apologies or anything but I also wasn't expecting to be completely ignored. Well, I wasn't actually completely ignored.....they each sent me a message. Kellie's was directed to me. Michelle's was directed to Crystal but the message to me was very, very clear. I think they must have spoken to each other first, because they said basically the same thing. That's right ladies, just because you sent the messages 12 hours apart doesn't mean you fooled me. Anyway, the message was very deliberate in ignoring the issue and simply said they would be there for Crystal and the baby. Must have taken hours to figure out how to come off sounding so non-chalant.

Why do I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a school yard?

I know I sound bitter, but I'm really just having fun with this -- now. They hurt me terribly in the past. But that's where it is. It's been over four years since I've seen either one of them. I no longer miss them. There's nothing they can offer me that would enrich my life. I put in my letter that I wasn't really expecting anything to change but in a perfect world they would realize how little I deserved their contempt. In hindsight, I probably never should have written the letter because if they had acted on it, I'm not sure the continued friendship would have worked.

I've been trying to figure out why I actually wrote the letter. Did I really want them back as friends? Part of me did, I guess. But I think the biggest reason I wrote that letter was simply to have my say. They never gave me that chance and I took it when an opportunity presented itself. If my letter had opened a diolgue, I don't know what would have happened. I'm almost afraid now to find out. This really is the only way things could have turned out. Today, I sent them both a note and thanked them for the closure. And I meant it. I don't have to stew about what I could have said or done to get them "back". I said it. They refused to listen. As The Perfect Man says, "their loss". I agree.

Good-bye Michelle and Kellie. It was fun while it was appropriate.

I am content.

An Easy Mark

noreply@blogger.com (Bernie) — Mon, 23 Apr 2007 12:49:00 +0000

When Bob was in kindergarten, he came home from school very excited because there was going to be a book fair. He had gone through the books on display and he had made a "wish list" of books he wanted. He and I went through that list and we whittled it down so it would cost me about $10.00 instead of the $54.00 he had wanted me to spend. I totally agree you can't put a price on eduction and I know how important books are.....but the library's free and I was on a very limited budget then (single mom raising two kids with no help from the Blob). So, off he went to school with his modified wish list and a $20.00 bill. I cannot stress enough how much I could not afford even one of those books without juggling the grocery list.

Along with his other redeeming qualities, my son is generous. At five years of age, he thought I was the best mother in the world because I was letting him buy those books. He was so pleased that he decided to buy me a present. I loved horses, so he searched through the book mark rack very, very carefully - but alas, he could find no horse. What he did find was a winged unicorn, which is really just a horse with wings and a horn. So, he bought it. For me. As a gift. With my $2.59, he bought it. For me. With $2.59 that I could not afford. Really. I could not afford it. But he bought it. For me.

As you can see from the picture of the book mark. It's been loved. I have used that book mark in every book I have read since I received it. I once left my book on top of the car when I left the house -- I came home at the end of the day and the book was gone, but my book mark was lying right there on the ground. I even left my book on the GO bus once, but got it and my book mark back - didn't much care if I got the book back.

There's not much left of the book mark. Just a small piece of the purple pom-pom left. And the words that are inscribed on it are barely legible now. Words that he didn't even know how to read and didn't bother to ask anyone. Words that I took into my heart that day in 1987

Anything is possible, if only you believe