Well, as of late this afternoon, it's official: my Mum is moving to China in August for at least a year. Mum is a highly accomplished teacher, and has accepted a position teaching French at an embassy school in Beijing.
So first? GO MUM!
And second?
FAAAAACK, now I need to pay for a trip for my little family to China. BAH.
China has figured large in our family for at least thirty years. During the 80's, when "Chinese" cooking became all the rage, my father turned away from electric woks and crappy North American ingredients, and chose to pursue the lonely road which involved rusting cleavers, perfectly rounded woks, cuts of meat no one else would eat, and ingredients in our pantry that no one could read the labels of. Your family might have gone through the Chinese food phase, but my family went through CHINA.
And still does today.
My mum currently has a perfectly normal "Canadian" home. Well, except for the fact that her house is decorated in a Chinese style. And disregard the framed pieces of Chinese embroidery. And please don't mention the teas in her cupboard, or the chop (name seal) sitting on her desk.
In MY house, we won't talk about the small riverstone that has the character "Forever" handcarved in to it (once upon time, a stone I gave my father to explain to him how much I loved him.) We won't talk about the pens, or the linens, or the inkstands which are all very definitely Chinese and all occupy places of honour in my home.
My name is Irma.
I am Canadian Scots Ukranian English Catholic Anglican Jewish.
And I can't wait to go home to China.
(please send money)
Friday, April 23, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Too much going on to explain properly
1. I have embarked on a huge, daunting, impossible journey: turning a VERY sunny third floor roof at work in to a lush, verdant garden. I am not alone in this journey, I have five fellow FREAKS who are all itching to turn this nasty, shingled space into something beautiful and productive.
2.And, hellooooo? We are going to have bees. BEES. Although we will be contracting real beekeeper to mind our hive, I hve been reading about the topic obsessively, I want to understand these wonderful creatures and prepare myself for the day my Lottery Winnings (snort!) enable me to do whatever the hell I want.
3. Getting back in to Geocaching, a sport I truly love and yet neglect for (literally) years at a time. Tomorrow, Son and I are taking a group of virgins ("Muggles") out to teach them how to play. Can't wait.
4. Choir continues. I'm sorry, we are frigging fabulous. No really, we are. With each and every practice, I fall in love a little bit more. God, I love these women I spend every Tuesday with. I have no idea what any of their nmes are (except for one childhood friend I was delighted to find in the soprano section with me) but every Tuesday gets better and better, my enjoyment seems to expand exponentionally.
Our director....another friend from childhood, who welcomed me (and actively recruited me) with open arms. She is talented and funny and delightful on so many levels. She tried to recruit me as much as three years ago (I have the emails to prove it!) and I kick myself pretty much daily for waiting so long to join.
This bio of our amazing director is several years out of date, but at least sets the stage..
http://www.mta.ca/faculty/arts/music/faculty/gould.html
She then went on to form the choir Vocc' del Anima, the choir I am in. It is only three and a half years old, but has been judged to be the best women's choir in Canada TWICE in that time. We begin the competition season of 2009 in 11 days, I can't wait!!
2.And, hellooooo? We are going to have bees. BEES. Although we will be contracting real beekeeper to mind our hive, I hve been reading about the topic obsessively, I want to understand these wonderful creatures and prepare myself for the day my Lottery Winnings (snort!) enable me to do whatever the hell I want.
3. Getting back in to Geocaching, a sport I truly love and yet neglect for (literally) years at a time. Tomorrow, Son and I are taking a group of virgins ("Muggles") out to teach them how to play. Can't wait.
4. Choir continues. I'm sorry, we are frigging fabulous. No really, we are. With each and every practice, I fall in love a little bit more. God, I love these women I spend every Tuesday with. I have no idea what any of their nmes are (except for one childhood friend I was delighted to find in the soprano section with me) but every Tuesday gets better and better, my enjoyment seems to expand exponentionally.
Our director....another friend from childhood, who welcomed me (and actively recruited me) with open arms. She is talented and funny and delightful on so many levels. She tried to recruit me as much as three years ago (I have the emails to prove it!) and I kick myself pretty much daily for waiting so long to join.
This bio of our amazing director is several years out of date, but at least sets the stage..
http://www.mta.ca/faculty/arts/music/faculty/gould.html
She then went on to form the choir Vocc' del Anima, the choir I am in. It is only three and a half years old, but has been judged to be the best women's choir in Canada TWICE in that time. We begin the competition season of 2009 in 11 days, I can't wait!!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
This is embarrassing to look at
It is Sunday night, we are about 12 minutes in to the Oscars.
Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are not only not funny, they are offensive.
That is all.
Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are not only not funny, they are offensive.
That is all.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Full Circle
Indulge me for a moment, let's all take a look at a post I wrote in August 2008.
My ex-husband and I have brought Son up as well as we can. I'm sure we have made mistakes, the same way all parents do, but we also know we have imprinted our deepest values on him.
Son and I are currently staying in a hotel. This evening, I sent him down to the vending machine to get himself a Diet Coke. Before he got back to our room, I could hear his footsteps thundering down the hall as he ran back. (Running in hotels is something he knows not to do.)
"Amah," he panted when he arrived, "I put in the money for my Diet Coke but THREE came out. I only took one, I left the other two because I'm honest."
I told him to go back immediately and GET the other two, otherwise his honesty would be wasted by the next person to walk by. When he returned to our room, I called the front desk and explained the situation to the manager: my son had paid for one Coke, he had received three, and he wanted to return the other two to the appropriate department. The manager (who happens to be a good friend of mine, and knows Son's moral character very well) thought this was wonderful, and offered the suggestion that the hotel was so impressed by his honesty that they wanted to give him the other two Cokes as a reward for reporting this.
And I was all, "Dude, but then what the hell am I going to do with three Diet Cokes??" And, really? Why should he get a reward for doing the right thing, the obvious thing?
My child may not have had the benefit of a religious education in his life, but he does know the Cardinal Rule: Don't take anything that isn't yours.
Don't steal, because it's not yours. Don't defame someone's name, because it's not yours. Don't write graffiti on rocks, or carve things on trees, because it's not yours. Don't lie, as anything that happens because of that lie is not yours.
It's really not such a difficult concept.
But I am still filled with such, such pride when Son lives as he has been taught to live.
So, back to 2010. About two weeks ago, I strolled in to the grocery store to get a cart, immediately saw a folded wad of money on the floor, scooped it up without changing my stride, and took it to the Customer Service desk.
"Here, I found this on the floor by the carts."
"Oh, thank you, how much is it?"
Me, literally bewildered, "I don't know."
Her, counting, "Wow, it's $90.00"
"Yes, and I bet the person who lost it will be glad someone found it."
And she looked at me funny.
She said that if no one claimed it, the money would be mine, and asked for my name and phone number, which I provided, all the while hoping a phone call would never come. I mean, c'mon, ninety dollars is a lot of money.
And so here I sit on March 5, I have ignored three separate voice mails from the grocery store, all saying, "Hey, the cash is yours,come get it."
I CAN'T.
That ninety dollars might have been nothing to the person who lost it, but it might have been a lot. And in MY experience, people who aren't worried about money tend to carry debit or credit cards, not bills folded tightly in to a small rectangle.
Could I use an extra $90 that suddenly fell out of the sky and landed in my lap? Damn right I could.
But for me to keep this particular $90 would be a curse.
I do not believe that every day honesty and courtesy should be rewarded. It should be an EXPECTATION we have of each other, and NOTHING MORE.
And so, to ensure I live by my beliefs, tomorrow I will go to the grocery store, and I will claim "my" money, and I will immediately place it in whatever "please give" box they have by the cash register. Money which would be cursed in my life will become a blessing in theirs.
My ex-husband and I have brought Son up as well as we can. I'm sure we have made mistakes, the same way all parents do, but we also know we have imprinted our deepest values on him.
Son and I are currently staying in a hotel. This evening, I sent him down to the vending machine to get himself a Diet Coke. Before he got back to our room, I could hear his footsteps thundering down the hall as he ran back. (Running in hotels is something he knows not to do.)
"Amah," he panted when he arrived, "I put in the money for my Diet Coke but THREE came out. I only took one, I left the other two because I'm honest."
I told him to go back immediately and GET the other two, otherwise his honesty would be wasted by the next person to walk by. When he returned to our room, I called the front desk and explained the situation to the manager: my son had paid for one Coke, he had received three, and he wanted to return the other two to the appropriate department. The manager (who happens to be a good friend of mine, and knows Son's moral character very well) thought this was wonderful, and offered the suggestion that the hotel was so impressed by his honesty that they wanted to give him the other two Cokes as a reward for reporting this.
And I was all, "Dude, but then what the hell am I going to do with three Diet Cokes??" And, really? Why should he get a reward for doing the right thing, the obvious thing?
My child may not have had the benefit of a religious education in his life, but he does know the Cardinal Rule: Don't take anything that isn't yours.
Don't steal, because it's not yours. Don't defame someone's name, because it's not yours. Don't write graffiti on rocks, or carve things on trees, because it's not yours. Don't lie, as anything that happens because of that lie is not yours.
It's really not such a difficult concept.
But I am still filled with such, such pride when Son lives as he has been taught to live.
So, back to 2010. About two weeks ago, I strolled in to the grocery store to get a cart, immediately saw a folded wad of money on the floor, scooped it up without changing my stride, and took it to the Customer Service desk.
"Here, I found this on the floor by the carts."
"Oh, thank you, how much is it?"
Me, literally bewildered, "I don't know."
Her, counting, "Wow, it's $90.00"
"Yes, and I bet the person who lost it will be glad someone found it."
And she looked at me funny.
She said that if no one claimed it, the money would be mine, and asked for my name and phone number, which I provided, all the while hoping a phone call would never come. I mean, c'mon, ninety dollars is a lot of money.
And so here I sit on March 5, I have ignored three separate voice mails from the grocery store, all saying, "Hey, the cash is yours,come get it."
I CAN'T.
That ninety dollars might have been nothing to the person who lost it, but it might have been a lot. And in MY experience, people who aren't worried about money tend to carry debit or credit cards, not bills folded tightly in to a small rectangle.
Could I use an extra $90 that suddenly fell out of the sky and landed in my lap? Damn right I could.
But for me to keep this particular $90 would be a curse.
I do not believe that every day honesty and courtesy should be rewarded. It should be an EXPECTATION we have of each other, and NOTHING MORE.
And so, to ensure I live by my beliefs, tomorrow I will go to the grocery store, and I will claim "my" money, and I will immediately place it in whatever "please give" box they have by the cash register. Money which would be cursed in my life will become a blessing in theirs.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Welcome to Canada
I am watching the opening ceremonies for the Olympics as I type. Typical Canadian, I am self deprecating about both myself and my country, always feeling like I should apologize. "Gee, I'm sorry it's not quite good enough", that kind of thing.
Well, I TAKE IT BACK. Two hours in to it, I am amazed and humbled and brought to tears by these ceremonies. "I" have nothing to apologize for, you are looking at some of the finest talent my country has to offer the world, you are being moved by my First Nations brothers and sisters, you are somehow seeing on your TV screen my deepest patriotism brought to life.
Well done, Canada. Well done.
(But hey, I do still need to mention: if you ever go to a Bryan Adams concert? You can be guaranteed he isn't lip-synching, because he doesn't know HOW. I know this based on his horrifying "performance" tonight. He and Nelly Furtado opened the show, and it was sooo obvious they weren't singing live. My favourite part was when he started "singing", and his microphone was still at his waist. The look of horror on his face when he realized he had totally busted the illusion was priceless.)
And umm, Ashley MacIsaac just performed. Ashley Freaking MacIsaac. ASHLEY MACISAAC.
I need to go now...
EDITED TO NOTE: Jesus Christ, kd lang, people. kd lang.
Well, I TAKE IT BACK. Two hours in to it, I am amazed and humbled and brought to tears by these ceremonies. "I" have nothing to apologize for, you are looking at some of the finest talent my country has to offer the world, you are being moved by my First Nations brothers and sisters, you are somehow seeing on your TV screen my deepest patriotism brought to life.
Well done, Canada. Well done.
(But hey, I do still need to mention: if you ever go to a Bryan Adams concert? You can be guaranteed he isn't lip-synching, because he doesn't know HOW. I know this based on his horrifying "performance" tonight. He and Nelly Furtado opened the show, and it was sooo obvious they weren't singing live. My favourite part was when he started "singing", and his microphone was still at his waist. The look of horror on his face when he realized he had totally busted the illusion was priceless.)
And umm, Ashley MacIsaac just performed. Ashley Freaking MacIsaac. ASHLEY MACISAAC.
I need to go now...
EDITED TO NOTE: Jesus Christ, kd lang, people. kd lang.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Getting back to it
I have to admit, since I got back from Spain three months ago I have been somewhat indifferent to blogging, as evidenced by my sporadic posting.
I really DO want to get back in to it, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Maybe if I just post Inspiration will show up....? Who knows.
I have tentative and very fluid plans to hook up with Gina some time this summer. (I'd link to her blog but it's only open to invited readers....if you would like to read about a modern day homesteader, let me know; I'm pretty sure I can get you "invited".)
I went shopping in the US last weekend. One of the things I brought home was a set of flannel sheets. I have never slept on flannel in my life. And all I can think how is, "WHY NOT???" Holy moly I love tem, they are so warm and scrunchy and delicious.
Time to go make dinner....and I certainly acknowledge this post is lame to the Nth degree...but this is my life right now.
Happy.
Looking forward to meeting Gina.
Hungry for casserole.
Watching CNN.
I really DO want to get back in to it, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Maybe if I just post Inspiration will show up....? Who knows.
I have tentative and very fluid plans to hook up with Gina some time this summer. (I'd link to her blog but it's only open to invited readers....if you would like to read about a modern day homesteader, let me know; I'm pretty sure I can get you "invited".)
I went shopping in the US last weekend. One of the things I brought home was a set of flannel sheets. I have never slept on flannel in my life. And all I can think how is, "WHY NOT???" Holy moly I love tem, they are so warm and scrunchy and delicious.
Time to go make dinner....and I certainly acknowledge this post is lame to the Nth degree...but this is my life right now.
Happy.
Looking forward to meeting Gina.
Hungry for casserole.
Watching CNN.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Boys are such....boys
Two weeks ago, Husbandly One gave up on the snowblower we "acquired" last winter. In case you weren't here:
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
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