How to Start a New Year

Realise you've had less than six hours sleep three days in a row so opt to be a good girl and stay in.

Make yourself a hot chocolate and Bailey's and settle in to watch the Doctor Who Series Six DVD you got for Christmas.

Decide that as you're taking things easy, you can stay up until midnight, just head to bed very quickly afterwards.

Be halfway through an episode (Let's Kill Hitler by the way) when the new year arrives. Laugh at your cats doing laps around the apartment every time a firecracker goes off.

Once the episode is over, start trolling the internet and find lots of Doctor Who themed pictures.

 

Yes. Yes, it is.

Well, it's mine at least.

Go to bed at 2AM.

Wake up at 7:30AM and curse the addictive hilariousness of Doctor Who fans.

Watch another Doctor Who episode while you potter about the house.

For the first time in the five years that you've thought about doing it, go to the Government House levée, arriving just in time to be the last person in the receiving line.

Sing 'Auld Lang Syne' with hundreds of other people and the pipe band before making your way to the patio to stare across the Juan de Fuca Straight to the snow capped Olympic Mountains. Remind yourself that you live in a pretty freaking beautiful part of the world.

Laugh as the Lieutenant-Governor 'pays the piper' and then cry while he gives his speech. (In this case, 'pay the piper' means to share a wee dram with the piper who led in the head party.)

Vow to make it to the levée in future years. Next time, drag people with you suggest your friends come along.

Write a couple of thoughts as to goals for 2012. Set them aside so you can sleep on them some more.

Go to your mom's for dinner. Receive an impromptu guitar lesson. Celebrate your older brother getting even older.

Curl up on your couch with your cats and watch another episode of Doctor Who before bed. Decided that this sentence will stay on your 2012 list of goals:

Best advice I've been given in a long time.

I hope you've all had a wonderful first 24 hours to 2012!

I Wrote What?

I wasn't going to specifically write a Year-In-Review post as other than Ireland (which feels like I just finished writing about), I don't really recall 2011 being a great year for recapping. I did, however, figured I'd mention a few moments in my "Hello 2012, I dare you to out-crap 2011" post I'm working of for tomorrow. As I reviewed a year worth of posts, I noticed something: I crack myself up.

I noticed this when I switched to the new timeline on facebook (and had to edit almost five years worth of status updates), and found myself chuckling alone in my apartment at my own willingness to be an idiot. So instead of a recap of "the best of 2011" or "highlights of 2011" or "the amazing things I did in 2011", I give you instead: the posts I most enjoy from 2011.

Don't brush and eat

I judge you based on the movies you watch

I still love you


Geeks need love too!

When I was sweet sixteen seventeen

I'm still younger than the Doctor

This is why I'm not allowed out in public

Then this happened... so I look into becoming a nun

Then this happened... so I look into become a cricket fan

I blame my dad for my whack sense of musical taste

I nerd out about ST:TNG again

I meet a lady who knew my dad when he had hair!!

I nerd out about Pluto having another moon

Canada lost an amazing man

I willingly posted a video of my singing

I need to learn to keep my mouth shut

If I put up pictures of Deanna Troi, I triple my number of page hits (true story)

I'm takin' it back to the old school cuz I'm an old fool who's so cool


Is mise AndreaClaire. Is as Canada dom. Conas ata tu? Pog mo thoin. Slan ge foill! (And that's about all the Irish I know!)

I love Christmas

That pretty much sums up me and it sums up my 2011. I had a late night last night thanks to a friend visiting from Switzerland so after much debate, I'm spending my New Years with a short guitar practice then one serving of ice cream and my Doctor Who DVD. Little Miss Wild-n-Crazy over here!!

Happy New Year!

Just Your Standard Rambling Post About Nothing

This post was supposed to go up Friday afternoon but my computer decided to be a complete twat. "Oh, you want me to open that link? Let me think about it... computer says no." So I decided that socializing with other humans was a better option than swearing at my computer. Take that, computer!

Then it was supposed to go up yesterday afternoon but my Internet decided to be a complete twat. "Oh, you want me to connect to the World Wide Web? Let me think about it... computer says no." So I went to the apartment Christmas party and unintentionally got drunk instead. Take that, liver!

Note to self: Eat dinner before going to the Christmas party next year because if you have as much fun as you did this year, you're not going to stick to your 30-minutes-chit-chat-back-for-dinner plan.

Part of the problem with not going up on Friday is that I missed the chance to talk about 'Wear Star Wars, Share Star Wars' Day on the actual day. Last September, Katie headed off to school with her Star Wars backpack. She got teased for liking Star Wars because it was just for boys. Her mom blogged about it, it was picked up by Epbot - a wonderful site for all geek girls - and it snowballed into a huge movement. Katie became the hero for legions of nerdy girls who had also been told they shouldn't like something because that's for boys.

'Wear Star Wars, Share Star Wars' is about more than just Star Wars, it's about showing your geek pride regardless of where your geek love lays. It's also to encourage people to donate a sci-fi themed toy to a local charity and make sure to specify that it's for boys and girls. It's about being proud about being a geek.

Just in time for WSTSST 2011, Jen at Epbot shared another story about a GGIT (Geek Girl In Training) getting teased. This time, Bryden dressed up as Spock for Halloween and was made fun of for dressing up as a boy. (Even one of the teachers made a remark about it which angers me to no end. A teacher should know better!) Once again, my heart went out to that little girl. And once again, the internet has proven what a wonderful place of support it can be! Go Geeks!

UPDATE: Um, awesome!
I found this BBC advert online Friday and shared it with facebook and twitter. Figure it's only right to share it here as well.

The natural world is such an amazing place, filled with so much wonder and beauty. It can be so easy, in our day-to-day lives to forget how fantastical the idea of life even is. All these plants and creatures that have evolved over millenia and adapted to their surrounds is no small feat and yet, here we are!* Something about this video must have kicked up all the dust in my apartment because something kept getting in my eye as I watched it.

Of course, I needed to remind myself that despite all that beauty, some people just don't like the world so I watched another episode of An Idiot Abroad. I stumbled across the show a few weeks ago and have been recommending it to anyone who will listen. The hilarity of watching Karl (who hates everything) travel to foreign places is just priceless. To get the most out of it, I'm limiting myself to two episodes a week. I tried to find a clip that summed the show up but ended up deciding instead to just share an advert for Series One. (Yes, they some how convinced him to do a Series Two.)

Christmas is in full swing around here. I've put up my one string of Christmas lights and I've blasted the Bing Crosby. Despite my love for Christmas, I don't do a whole lot in the way of decorations. Because the holidays are still mostly spent at my parents' places and I live on my own, I keep it pretty low key. (Also, we're not allowed real trees in our apartment building and I refuse to buy a fake one so...) At least I'm getting out to enjoy the festive season around me!

And on that note, I have to go shower and get out to enjoy the festive season around me!

*One of my biggest pet peeves about religious people's misunderstanding about those of us who are non-religious is that we can't appreciate God's work as it's all just science to us. It was realising that random happenstance of the interaction of molecular properties which brought us such beauty that helped me see how amazing this world is. When I still thought maybe it was just some guy in the sky, the world never was as amazing as I find it now.

Peat and Rhythm

When Al and I first talked about going to Ireland, high on my list of places I wanted to go was Donegal. I had nostalgic memories of Donegal in the 80’s—huge family gatherings at my aunt’s cottage, games of soccer-tag (also known as ‘quick, make up a game that all ages of our family can play’) on a near deserted beach in the middle of July, scrambling over rock walls as my cousins and I explore the fields around us—and I knew that I wouldn’t find that Donegal again (firstly, good luck getting all my cousins together at the beach) but I was hoping that the landscape was still as breath-taking as I remember.

Well, it was really hard to see the landscape when it rained the entire time we were there. Not just rained... POURED! My poor shoes never did fully dry out and took on such a funky smell that I ended up just binning them and buying a pair of cheap boots. (Thank you Dunnes!)

We arrived at the Diamond* in Donegal Town and I wondered if I had made a huge mistake in dragging Al here. Co. Donegal had been my request after all. Once-a-day bus times meant that we couldn’t go to Bunbeg, the area of my childhood memories, without eating into a lot of our precious travel days, but I was hoping that a day trip to Slieve League and Killybegs would be just as lovely. Donegal Town, however, wasn’t really living up to my hopes.

The Diamond in Donegal Town. Don't be fooled by all those cars, that's the taxi stand.

We arrived at the hostel to find the owner (the lovely Linda from the county Cork) in the middle of starting a peat fire. While Donegal Town still had yet to win me over, the hostel was getting major bonus points!

There's something about a big pile of peat which makes me insanely happy. It reminds me

of visiting my granddad's friend with my dad who lived in a thatched cottage with a peat fire

and he boiled the water for tea in a pot hanging from a swinging arm over the fire.

After we had warmed up and somewhat dried off, Al and I walked back into town for dinner and a drink. We partook in the ‘traditional’ fish and chips from an actual chipper before making our way to the Reel Inn. Rumour had it that there was music every night and the one thing that Al wanted before she left was to hear Irish music in an Irish bar.

Our Saturday night at the pub turned out to be a lot of fun. We arrived well before the music started so we pretty much had the place to ourselves for the first hour. We made small talk with the barmaid (the fabulously sarcastic Emer) and tried to decipher the comments from the drunk regular who I think might have been speaking Irish at one point. The place slowly filled up and by the time the band started, it was standing room only. Still, you can always find room to dance!

We learned later from our new friend, Helly** that Al’s

dance partner was single and owned 80 acres of land!

We left the Reel Inn at 1:30am with the realisation that everyone still in the pub was older than us. That’s right, the 45 – 80 years old age group totally out partied two 30-somethings. Welcome to Ireland!

The next day was still raining. We had hopes of going to Slieve League but everyone we talked to said they were fogged in (later confirmed by other tourists who had gone), so we went with our back up plan of the Donegal Bay Waterbus Tour. The first indication that perhaps this wasn’t the great idea was the booking agent who replied to our request for two tickets with ‘really?’ The next indication was the bus loads of seniors that were being dropped of as we boarded the waterbus. It was a full tour and save for ourselves, a family with three kids under 12 and couple who looked much like Al and I felt (that would be ‘horrified’ for those of you who need an actual word for that moment), everyone was 65+. The minute the bar opened, Al and I hightailed it to the alcohol.

We thought the guide telling jokes which had nothing to do with the tour was bad—we groaned, we rolled our eyes, we giggled at how silly the whole thing was—but when we got to the end of the bay and it was time to turn around, they pulled out a keyboard. Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING is as bad as cheesy songs with synthesised drums. Al and I beat a hasty retreat to the top deck... where the music followed us. It was like some bad horror film. No, don’t go upstairs! He’ll just follow you!

Oh well. At least we got to take pictures in between our bouts of laughter.

The bay is very shallow so at low tide you can walk to most of the islands from the mainland.

And just so you can hear exactly how bad the music was:

Um, it won't let me play this video to check it before I post it but

if the colours are as wacked as they are in the draft photo... oops!

On our way back into town we passed the ruins of the friary where the Annals of the Four Masters were written. Having wasted €4 on Donegal Castle earlier that day we decided to check out the free ruins. If you ever find yourself in Donegal Town, skip the Castle and just go check out the friary. I would have rather paid to see the friary (which is now a cemetery so double score for me!).

Being Canadian Thanksgiving that weekend, we decided to get dolled up and go for a nice dinner. It was surprisingly hard to find anything turkey related so had to make due with lamb so perfectly cooked that I touched it with my fork and it fell off the bone. It’s a tough life, I tell ya! After dinner, we headed back to the Reel Inn to see what Sunday night would provide in the way of music. While Saturday night had been fun, it had felt touristy. Sunday night reminded me of my dad’s parties growing up.

The owner (on the accordion) and a few of his friends sat around and played whatever song they felt like. If one of them felt like taking a smoke break or heading to the washroom, the others kept playing. If they weren’t totally sure of the song, they’d fake their way through it. If someone wanted to get up and join them or sing a song, they were welcome to it. It was about as authentic an Irish music night you’re going to get in a pub.

There was supposed to be two videos here but after 37 minutes of waiting for just one to upload (I'm not joking, old computer...) you're just getting a picture instead.

The banjo player was amazing! Even more amazing was the man hiding behind the mic. His name is Frankie and Al and I love him. I found someone else's video on YouTube so you can understand why.

PS. That's the owner on the accordion.

He  had such a lovely singing voice that we loved him in spite of what appeared to be a very gruff demeanor when we first met him. Then he threw a couple of smiles our way when we responded positively to the songs. During a break late in the night, he sat down beside us and we got to chatting. I asked if he knew Sonny's Dream and he admitted that he didn't know the words, but if I wanted to sing it he'd back me up. Small problem: I'd had a bit to drink and couldn't remember the words. He wanted to know if we were going to be around the next night. We weren't but he was willing to bring in the words and sing Sonny's Dream for us if we were. I love this man more than I can express in writing.

We saw none of the things we wanted to see, we spent more time wet than we did dry, and we wasted money on the stupid castle and the waterbus, but Donegal had won its place as our favourite stop. “We could always go back to Donegal” became the mantra of the rest of our trip. When we hit up a music pub in Galway, we looked at each other, agreed it was no Reel Inn and beat a hasty retreat. And any singers we heard? Well, they’re no Frankie!

What I would give for this pub to be my local!

*many northern Irish towns call their town centre or square ‘the Diamond’ but it’s usually a triangle. I get the feeling Irish people probably fail geometry ;)

**I can not, for the life of me, remember his first name but he spelt his last name for me so it kind of stuck. It’s what Al and I referred to him as for the rest of the trip.

To You From Failing Hands

It is Remembrance Day in Canada to honour those who have fought and, in some cases, died for our country. The day has taken on more meaning for me as I get older and I know some of the men and women who currently wear the uniform. I rarely make it through the day now without crying at some point.

About three years ago, I started a tradition of writing to "Any Canadian Forces Member" at this time of year. I pick four or five different operations, usually focusing on lesser known ones, and send my thoughts and thanks on the back of a postcard of Canada. Who doesn't love getting random postcards?

You can participate in the "Any Canadian Forces Member" by following the instructions on this page.

And I encourage you to hug a vet.

The First 48 Hours: Dublin Edition

The crappy great part of living on Vancouver Island is that adding a flight from Vancouver to Vancouver is ridiculously expensive so my day of travel started with a ferry ride. As much as I complain about this fact of life, it does mean that my final views of my home always look something like this.

Not too shabby, if you ask me.

 
Roughly 20 hours worth of travel on various modes of transport later and I arrived at my uncle's... where I promptly fell asleep for 16 hours. I'm not kidding. I went for a nap at about 5:00, forgot to set my alarm, woke up at midnight, took a sleeping pill, and woke up again at 8:00am. You know when you sleep too much? Tuesday was a tad more rough than I was expecting! I still managed to drag myself into town and woke myself up with a stroll around St. Stephen's Green.

What you don't see in this picture is the incredibly large coffee I had in my other hand.

There's more than one way to wake up!

I had roughly a week in Dublin on my own before Al joined me for traipsing around the countryside and the weather during that first week was amazing. After a lackluster summer, Dublin was experiencing an Indian Summer. I actually got to wear the shorts I threw in at the last moment. I even put in my contacts just so I could wear my non-prescription sunglasses! It was amazing... and it promptly disappeared the Friday before Al arrived. If I didn't have these pictures, I probably wouldn't have believed it either.

Returning to Dublin is always an odd experience. While I've never officially lived in Dublin, I grew up knowing Dublin better than Victoria. Summers spent walking around its narrow streets while one cousin taught me how to say all the counties in Irish or repeatedly crossing the Liffey while another cousin and I discussed the cute neighbourhood boys left me with a knowledge of the city that you don't get in just a few days. While I waited for Al to arrive, one of my favourite past times was just wandering the streets and rehashing old memories.

And I also saw a bunch of stuff. (I know that's the only reason you're reading this!) I made a point on this trip to be a tourist. For the first time in my life, I actually read a tourist guide and made a list of places I wanted to see. It was surreal to be a tourist in a town I knew so well. Don't worry, I was able to resist the urge to wear a bum bag. Without further ado...

I started the first day with a visit to the GPO An Post Museum and and a wander around O'Connell St. As I didn't take any photos knowing that I'd be back with Al, you'll see those later.

After a stop for lunch, I made my way to St. Audoen's Church. There are actually two St. Audoen's, one Anglican (Church of Ireland) and the other Roman Catholic. They sit side-by-side just down the block from Christchurch Cathedral. I was interested in the Anglican one. I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I love ruined religious buildings and cemeteries. Oldest parish church still in use in Dublin? Whatevs. Three-quarters left to ruin? Interesting. One half is still in ruin? Sign me up! And it's totally free? Um, you can stop selling it, I'm already there.

It boggles my mind when I stop and think about how many years people have been standing on this floor.

How many people with Sunday morning hangovers have said "never again" in this church?

The inside of the church was very lovely and peaceful... until a tour group from a nearby school showed up and I beat a hasty retreat to the ruined part out the back. It was sunny, quiet and beautiful so I took a seat on a bench and just enjoyed a few moments to myself... before I ran around snapping pictures. Although I wouldn't call St. Audoen a 'must see', if you're in the area it's worth popping in for a few minutes.

One street that every visitor to Dublin wanders is Grafton St. It's not just for the over-priced shopping or the fact that it's the quickest thoroughfare between Trinity and St. Stephen's Green, but because there's almost always something happening along its pedestrian-only brickwork. On one of my many strolls, I discovered a group called Mutefish.

The music is catchy and they are excellent musicians. As my bus stop was very close to Grafton St. I made sure to catch them as often as possible. Of course, I bought their CD so part of my repeated viewings may have had something to do with a small crush I developed on one of them. I'll leave you to figure out which one. (HINT: It's not the one with the dreaded dread mullet. That's the second one I've seen in a month; is this a new trend? If it is, then I'm going to bed and someone can wake me up when it's over.)

I started day two with a visit to Marsh's Library. I wish I could have taken pictures inside but that's not allowed so instead... follow this link. The library (you can still read the books if you are a grad student or researcher who has received permission) is hidden in a nondescript brick building behind St. Patrick's Cathedral and I almost walked past it.

The library feels very much like you're stepping back in time. I shared the place with only two other tourists, a couple of readers, and a steady clock beat. The first display was Bibles and the second was Medical Journals. While neither of them were topics I would have chosen (the previous displays of musical manuscripts or maps would have been more up my alley) but were still quite interesting. I especially enjoyed the Bibles in Irish, Malay and Ojibiway.

I headed to the Liffey to wander along its banks. I said hello to the Four Courts. The only time I went inside the Four Courts was to meet a cousin for lunch; I got in trouble for walking into a closed area. I stayed on the other side of the river this time. I learned my lesson!

A little further along, I decided a coffee break was in order. I payed $3.60 for a crap drip coffee. Even good drip coffee isn't worth that much, but I was really paying for the view:

The Ha'penny Bridge. It was the first bridge across the Liffey and was built to replace an old ferry system.

There's claims that it's the most photographed icon in Dublin. Obviously that means I need to take a picture!

After my coffee break, which included writing in my journal and eavesdropping on a group of tourists, I took off for Dublin Castle and the Garda Museum. I am nothing if not a giant nerd. Seriously people, I went to a police museum for fun. I should have known how odd that sounds when I buzzed the locked door to confirm I was in the right place. The voice at the other end said that if I was interested in the history of Ireland's police force I could come in. When I said I was, the voice on the other end of the intercom said "really?" ::pushes up nerd glasses:: Yes, I really am.

On my way to the museum, I got a little lost thanks to the somewhat vague directions at the gate to Dublin Castle ('in the roundtower' doesn't mean much when it doesn't give you what side of the tower) and ended up wandering into the chapel. I don't know if you knew this, but Ireland has a lot of churches.

The thing that always amazes me about European churches (chapels, minsters, cathedrals, etc are included in the use of the word church) is that even the smallest places are often incredibly ornate. Granted, it's Dublin Castle so they wouldn't be going for the plain and simple look but it's still incredible when you think that below is the ceiling of the lower seating area.

I finally found the museum, wandered through, and got an answer to a question I honestly didn't think was going to be answered. I knew I'd be back at the Castle with Al to check out the Chester Beatty Library (more on that later) but I didn't know what the weather would be like so I took a quick turn around the main courtyard.

The castle was originally build in 1204 but it's been added to over the years.

It creates a bit of a patchwork look to the buildings.

I had never actually been to the Castle before. As the castle still serves as a functioning building for the government, it was closed to visitors on the day I was there but I was only really looking to wander around the courtyard anyway. The 26 counties of the Republic have flags flying in the courtyard. I found the only flag that matters and sat about for 15 minutes waiting for the wind to last long enough to get a semi-decent picture.

Monaghan! Best damn county there is (as long as you're not talking GAA).

Feel free to disagree in the comments, I'll probably just delete them ;)

If nothing else, the Garda on duty near the doors to the castle were having a good laugh at my attempts to get this picture, which had me giggling as I headed for the bus back out to Blackrock.

Storytime Sunday: September 11th

There's no proper story today, just my memories.

Ten years ago today, my mom and stepdad were supposed to fly to New York for my step-cousin's wedding on the weekend. The phone had started ringing very early that morning and when my mom woke me up, I assumed it was to say 'good bye'. Never, in my wildest imaginings would I have thought of what I saw that day.

I laughed when I watched the TV. Not because I was happy about it, not because I found any actual humour in it but because I laugh when I'm nervous and this made me very, very nervous. I watched the second plane hit. I just kept shaking my head; "this can't be real, this can't be real."

Two cousins, bothers, on my dad's side work in Manhattan. When I finally came to terms with the fact that this really was happening, my next thought went to them. Were they at work? Were their buildings affected? It would be almost 48 hours before my dad would get word from his sister. I had never felt time move so slowly.

At work that day, I ended up comforting an American woman who was freaking out. She had come up with her sister who was visiting from Germany. The US border was only allowing American citizens to cross the border. What was she going to do? She couldn't leave her sister whose English was very rudimentary but she had a 15 year old daughter at home in Bellingham. It was the first time she had ever left her daughter home alone. I was torn between wanting to tell her everything would be okay and wanting to scream at her "I have family in New York and I don't know where they are!" Screaming back at someone rarely solves anything, so I told her everything would be okay.

We got her and her sister a hotel room, and we were able to put her in touch with her daughter and her neighbours who said they'd let the daughter stay with them until she got back. When all was said and done, she looked at me with tired eyes.

"I can't imagine what people with family in New York are going through right now."

"We're waiting to hear about our loved ones; hoping for the best, mentally preparing ourselves for the worst."

Her eyes got really big as she realised that I had family in New York. She pulled me into a bear hug and I could feel her body shake as she sobbed a couple of times.

"I'm sure they're going to be okay," she whispered in my ear before she stepped back. She and her sister disappeared into the crowd in the Inner Harbour.

When she came back three days later to thank us for our kindness, I was not at work. I wish I had been there so I could tell her that my cousins were okay.

While much of that day passed in a fog, if I ever passed that woman on the street I'd recognize her in a heartbeat. I can't help but wonder what she's doing today.

Shoot for the Moon. Earth's Gravitational Pull Will Prevent You From Obtaining Orbit But Maybe You'll Land Somewhere Interesting.

After a fabulous weekend in Nanaimo during which we visited Gabriola for the Theatre Festival, played a total of 11 games of rummy (so, roughly 100 hands), drank a few bottles of wine, drank a few gallons of tea, and discovered I had injured myself, the rest of Summer has flown by.
Did you know it's September 1st today?

I know!

I realised that out of all my plans for the summer, very few of them actually happened but I'm okay with that.

Camping plans fell through at the last minute. Hiking plans never happened due to something else happening pretty much every weekend. Travel to Vancouver and Seattle never materialised for the same reason. I did a lot of running but conflicting schedules and then injury stopped my goal of four-times-a-week.

I did get to catch up with some old friends at Shawnigan. I sat in the gardens at Government House and read a good book. I had multiple BBQs with awesome people. I verbally committed to going to Guinea in December 2012 and teaching the Kubian village ladies to sew school uniforms.

Wait, what?

Yeah, you read that right. But don't worry, go back and reread it just to make sure. I'll wait.

Through the magic of links, I'll remind you of the time I said:

5) MoonDance is talking about going back to Guinea for another dance/drum intensive learning holiday in 2012. Actually, Lynn suggested it a few years ago and then later said it wasn't a firm plan. Tonight Erin and I decided that we're just going to talk about it like it's happening because then it will. So, I'm totally going to Guinea in 2012. You heard it here first.

Erin and I were (sort of) joking but it worked. Moondance is going to Guinea in 2012 for dance and drum lessons. (While I have verbally committed to doing this, I will refrain from saying I'm actually going until I can sit down and do some accounting math and planning.)

Moondance is very closely related to Matoto as Matoto was born out of Moondance's last trip to Guinea. At at working bee last week, we were discussing our school in Kubian which will begin teaching students this October! (very excited about that) when the topic of school uniforms came up. I remembered a project in Tanzania where the local women were taught to sew the uniforms which in turn gave the additional income to the mostly single women.

Why can't we do that?

Except we need someone who sews.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up verbally committing to going to Guinea.

(Actually, I told them that if I am able to make the trip to Guinea, I would teach sewing but that the *if* is quite substantial at this time. They gave me a 'uh-huh' look which clearly states they expect me to fully make it happen. I do, after all , have 15 months to get it sorted.)

Something else I need to get sorted out in that time? French.

Guinea's only offical language is French. While I know that many of our teachers will have some English and many of my fellow travellers will have some French, I'd like to be able to do most of the teaching with as little translation as possible. In other words, I should have started learning French yesterday.

I'm nothing if not ambitious... and slightly crazy.

Mostly crazy.

R.I.P. Jack Layton

Dear Readers Mom, I had a post all ready to go about my weekend (and the post will still go up at some point) but I woke up this morning to the news that Jack Layton, leader of the the New Democratic Party, had passed away. As much as I strive to keep politics off my blog because that's not why I started this in the first place, I love politics. I wanted to use my little corner of the Internet to say good bye to an amazing man.

[Edit]: You can read Jack's final letter to Canadians here.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world. ~Jack Layton

Dear Jack,

I woke up this morning to a flurry of tweets about your passing. I hoped and hoped it was some cruel joke like the Gordon Lightfoot death-tweets a few years back but as more and more respectable people added to the tweets and linked to CBC news, I knew that you really had passed away.

I cried.

There will be a lot written about you in the coming days. It will be mostly good, as happens after someone has passed away. And as it should be when the person was as generally good as you. Stephen Harper has already issued a statement. Between you and me, behind his sadness at your passing, I think part of him is relieved that he won't have to face off against you in the House of Commons this fall.

Of course, that is assuming Harper can feel emotions. Scientists are still running experiments to determine if he can.

You were one of the few politicians that I actually liked and respected. Although I did not always agree with you (politically, I understand why you disagreed with Elizabeth May being in the debates. Emotionally, I think you were a dick about it), I always felt like you put the Canadian population ahead of everything else when it came to your job. You were one of the few politicians I wanted to meet. I wanted to shake your hand and say 'thank you' for restoring my faith in politicians.

You were amazing in the last election. The NDP was the only party with ads on online TV channels, the only one with ads in bus stations, and the only one who really seemed to go after the youth vote. The result was the largest NDP result ever (and in a few of the ridings you lost, you lost by a handful of votes.) and the decimation the Bloc in Quebec. As much as it pained me to see Steven Harper finally get his majority party, I was so proud of the strides you had made for your party.

You were incredible.

There was a passion in everything you did. There was a determination in your actions. Yet, there was a relatability which resonated with people. Canada even voted you the party leader they'd most like to have a beer with. Perhaps it was because you were so passionate and determined that they responded to you. Whatever it was, your passing is a sad day for Canada and Canadian politics.

Thank you for everything you brought to the House of Commons. Thank you for years and years of service on behalf of your fellow Canadians. Thank you for being you: for being open about your fight with cancer, for being passionate about your beliefs, for challenging us all to be better, and for being strong in the face of it all.

You will be missed.

A Real Mom

Do you think you'll ever want to find your real mom?

It is the most common question I get asked when people learn that I'm adopted.

Your real mom?

When I was younger I hated those words. Like the mom I had was a fake. An impostor. A pod person sent here to destroy mankind by infiltrating our every day lives. I would get angry. Sometimes I would yell at the person for using that word, this person who honestly didn't understand that they had said anything wrong.

Real.

I grew up and realised that the best thing was to respond with the words I preferred to use: "I don't know if I'll ever look for my biological mom; my real mom is still a part of my life." It gets the point across much better than yelling.

My biological mom gave me life and for that I will be forever grateful.

My real mom stayed up with me when I was sick, she gave me hugs when I was sad, she was my biggest cheerleader, she bore the brunt of my temper tantrums, she got angry at me when I needed it, she drove me to ballet, soccer, and band, she taught me how to sew, she tended to the flowers in my window box, she played the piano so I could dance to it, and she still loves me unconditionally because, biological or not, that`s what real moms do.

There are so many types of moms in this world--too many to list here--and I wish each and every one of you a wonderful Mother`s Day.

Things I Learned This Week

I wish I could get paid for the work I do for Matoto. It's not that I feel I deserve compensation for it, but because I love it and if I got paid, I could quit 'the rat race' and actually love, not tolerate-and-sometimes-even-enjoy, my job.

Even if I'm not working Monday to Friday, my body finds Fridays exhausting.

I miss being on the phones at work. Due to a shortage of staff on Friday, I had to handle the phones. It's something I hadn't done in 17 months. I never realised how much I missed the direct contact with the clients, and how I get my satisfaction in life from knowing that I've helped someone.

I need to help people. It's who I am.

My body loves to dance.

A conversation with an old friend can turn a stressful Thursday into one that ends in laughter.

Coffee with a new friend can make a great Wednesday an awesome Wednesday.

No matter how many times I watch it, I always giggle when the captain yells "sheiße" in Das Boot and the subtitle says "oh no!".

I wish I knew enough about computers to take the scene I mentioned above from my DVD of the movie and upload it to YouTube so I could link to it and make all of you laugh too.

Sitting in a coffee shop for an hour with a large coffee and a good book is the most satisfying way I know to waste my time.

Fake dating website questionnaires and planning retreats go together better than I could have anticipated.

The Victoria Symphony has Bach's Brandenburg Concerto 4 and Beethoven's Symphony 6 coming up on February 27th and March 7th respectively. Is it every socially acceptable to roll the blue rinse set for their symphony tickets?

If you decide to go for an epic walk because it's bright and clear and you want to play with your camera, make sure your batteries aren't on the brink of dying.

Sometimes Saturday nights are best spent with a bottle of wine, a chick-flick and two cuddly cats.

The Least I Can Do

Last year, I stepped out of the elevator and came face-to-face with #408. He was decked out in his dress uniform with all his insignia and medals carefully placed on his left breast from his time served in Korea. He had a small bag of what I assumed was garbage hanging off his cane handle. We smiled at each other as I stepped of the elevator. I put my hand out to shake his and said 'thank you'. He grabbed me in a hug, "no, thank you." With a lightness of foot I've never seen from him before, he jumped onto the elevator as the doors closed and was gone before I could react. I managed to keep my composure until I got to the door of my apartment and then I started crying.

A simple thank you will never be enough for all the men and women who served and who continue to serve our country. They do a job which I am far too selfish to ever do and they do it day-in day-out without question. Unfortunately, thank you is all I have. May you see many Remembrance Days and know how much you are appreciated.

Lest We Forget.

If you'd like to send a letter or postcard of thanks: Any Canadian Forces Member

Thanksgiving

If you read both my blogs, you're not seeing double. This post appears on both of them.
What am I thankful for?

I am thankful to my birth mother for choosing to give me a life she could not provide.

Me at 5 weeks

I am thankful for my parents who never let me doubt how much I was loved.

Dad, Mom and me

I am thankful that I have two brothers who are both pretty awesome in their own rights.

Little and Big Bro about eight years ago

I am thankful that I was born in country where my gender was not seen as a reason to not educate me...

Graduation

...or disallowed my participation in sports.

Soccer as a teenager

I am thankful that I know my extended family even though they all lived plane rides away. 

Me and Cormac on a family trip out to Donegal

I am thankful for all the amazing places I have travelled in my life.

Trinidad, Cuba

I am thankful for the opportunities I've had to live in some of these amazing places.

Freiburg, Germany. Mein Universitaetstadt.

I am thankful for the people I've met who have helped shape my world view.

My going away party in Tanzania. I'm the only non-Muslim at the table.

I am thankful for living in a country where political discord amounts to little more than name calling in the House of Commons.

Political Message along Falls Rd, Belfast

I am thankful that I am privileged enough to be able to give back.

Dinner time, Usa River, Tanzania

I am thankful for all my friends who make life a little bit more worth while.

Looking forward to a hungover train ride back to Victoria after a girl's weekend in Parksville.

What are you thankful for?