empress of dirt

friday the 13th (part 1)

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 10:49:43 PST

I start writing a new novel just about every day. In my head. I find myself spontaneously thinking up opening lines as we walk to school. As if every day of life is a whole new book. Friday the 13th was frosty and foggy and the combination had a definite creepy yet beautiful feel to it. Is there such a thing as a novel that is comprised entirely of opening sentences? If not, I shall be the first to write it.

A deep, night frost was dislodged by a rush of warm morning air.

A heavy fog stole away the distant cars and noise, leaving the quiet of the pond.

There were no sign of the ducks or geese. Or kids walking to school.

Yet a feeling of something present, something watching could not be shaken off....

Mwah ha ha ha ha.

Or something like that.

can she do it? #3

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 12:46:47 PST

Day Five

I woke up early this morning and thought it would be enjoyable to do my workout right away. So I did it. What is happening to me?

I'd also like to report that after just five workouts, I am vaguely near being able to perform a push up. Hold your applause people. I consider myself to be fairly strong. I lift big, heavy things in the garden all the time. But the muscles required to do push ups are another matter entirely. And wow, do I have a long way to go. The goal? Twenty push ups. How long will it take? As long as it takes. Otherwise, I'm getting used to the cardio (jumping jacks etc) and strength training. The workout is too brief to feel sorry for myself. That's a good thing.

What I like about the Shred DVD:
-you can do it in a very small space
-it takes just 20 minutes
-you can do it without any special equipment (I use my yoga mat and 5lb weights, but one could substitute holding shoes or cans for the weights and forego the mat)
-there are several levels of intensity (I'm still on Level One. I'll kick myself out of Level One when my heart rate stops going insane during the workout.)

On the food front, did everyone go out and buy brussel sprouts or what? Ever since I posted about my current obsession for brussel sprouts, they've been sold out at the grocery store. My withdrawal symptoms include thinking about them approximately every four minutes. I hope to get my next dose before the weekend is over. Sheesh.

I hope the rest of you who made fitness pledges are sufficiently shaking your bootays.

So far my accomplices are:
Kelly
Tristan
GardenLily
egorman
Kate
Suzi

If anyone else wants to commit to taking steps to improve their health over the next thirty days, please dive in.

Life is now.

linky dinks #19

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 09:46:39 PST

Greetings fellow inhabitants of the third rock from the sun,

Linky dinks #19 brinks yet another eclectic mix of portals to the great, weird, and disturbing is-ness that is our home planet. I hope you will enjoy your journey.

gorgeous portraits and the artful life
At one very artful point in my life, I had a lovely little corner apartment on the third/top floor of an old building in downtown Toronto. There were massive trees right outside the windows and, with the south and west facing views, it was very beautiful.

I was drawing up a storm in those days, creating portraits with oil pastels. I hung clothesline the whole way around the upper walls of the apartment and hung up my creations with clothes pegs. I was studying American Sign Language at the time and one of my teachers came by to drop something off. When he saw my drawings, he hired me to do illustrative drawings to use as teaching aids. He needed scenes with, quite simply, lots of things in them (anything I wanted, representing anything you might encounter in your day) so he could show them to students and teach them the corresponding ASL signs. He himself was deaf and did not speak, so the illustrations would relieve him of pantomiming everything. I kind of suspected he was hoping for a romance with me, which never blossomed, but in hindsight I often wished it had. He was very sweet. But in the mean time I got to actually earn a living (for a while anyway) as an artist, getting paid handsomely for something I really loved doing.

This memory came back when I saw this lovely portrait of nienie. With a few exceptions, I have not painted or drawn in a very long time. [nienie]

birth of a new ocean...in the middle of a dessert [NPR]

ridgewalker pete shows you how to tie up your food when camping in the wilderness. Unless of course you want that bear to eat your rations....[ridgewalker pete]

connecting the dots: blogging in Denmark
a wee dig through the archives will uncover some beautiful images [connecting the dots]

shark performs lifesaving c-section...on another shark
rather amazing and brilliant [nzherald]

Mona Lisa collage created from old motherboards and computer chips [wired.com]

What if it was illegal to be fat (or thick-waisted)?
Would North America slim down if our health coverage depended on it? Japan is leading the way. I'm curious if the pressure will trigger an increase in disordered eating. [globalpost.com]

The attack of GM veggies
Genetically modified foods bring concerns for many reasons. First of all, it's tampering with nature. That always has negative repercussions. It's difficult to find words for how serious this is. Nature is its own self-regulating and perfect system. Every time humans have messed around with the natural system of checks and balances, we've created a mess bigger than we can find out way out of. Think of the problems caused by relocating indigenous animals to other parts of the world where they have no known predators. Same goes for various plants that have been introduced to new lands with dire, invasive consequences.

Genetically modifying foods is the most distressing example of this underway today. Every food has characteristics that run it through a system of checks and balances not only within the food chain but the cycle of life. As soon as you eliminate 'undesirable' traits, you've skewed the system. There will be fallout. And we're eating it.

Second, companies that genetically modify foods, own the rights (patents) to those seeds. This means farmers who use these seeds for crops cannot save any seeds for future crops. And farmers who do not use these seeds but find them growing voluntarily on their land, are in violation of the law (patent infringement). Many farmers have been dragged through the courts until they are flat broke just trying to defend their rights to grow what they want without super powers like Monsanto controlling their every move. Be afraid.
"The gigantic bio-tech corporation Monsanto is threatening to destroy the agricultural biodiversity which has served mankind for thousands of years." Not only are they changing the basic structure of the foods that feed the world, but they are elbowing out diversity in favour of limited types of modified foods that defy weeds and diverse weather conditions. There used to be over a hundred types of corn, now we're down to just a few, and much of it is used to produce high fructose corn syrup, the oh-so-sweet killer found in numerous processed foods, and to feed cattle. Corn-fed cattle develop serious digestive problems. Grain fed ones do not. This may sound good on paper but our natural world came equipped with vast diversity for one very basic reason: SURVIVAL. Monsanto is on a mission to, basically, take over the ownership and control of all food seeds on earth. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Save your seeds. Insist on laws that demand labelling of GM'd foods. Boycott genetically modified foods. Support your local farmer and/or grow what you can. We're the unknowing guinea pigs in a corporate experiment to see what the long-term effects of these modified foods are. If the possible health concerns don't freak you out, consider the ramifications of corporate ownership of our entire food supply. Rebel, dear earthlings, rebel!
[the world according to Monsanto]
[genetically modified food - wikipedia]
[little homestead]
[king corn]
[food, inc.]
[will genetically modified foods make you sick?]

That said, I shall leave you with a ~~smile~~ nice wet tongue.

I'm guessing there was peanut butter on the lens.. Preferably from non-modified, organic peanuts...moo! [pixdaus.com]

glimpses #3

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 14:49:32 PST

My current food festish? Brussel sprouts. How? Stems off, cut in half. Ten minutes in olive oil in the cast iron skillet, then add 1/2 cup water for another two minutes. Salt. Pepper. // While they are very good right away with a squeeze of lemon, the next day, after they have spent the night in the fridge, they. are. di. vine. DEE. VINE. I'm not a night time eater but I wake up in the night thinking about them. Counting the hours until I'll be hungry again so I can devour some more. Three meals a day. Me. And brussel sprouts.

Moderation Schmoderation.

I photograph this neighbor's garden a few times a year. I love the tall grasses. I've got winter photos of it somewhere in this blog....

Kazula says hi. Which also happens to be Guineapiggian for where's the parsley?

On the fitness front: Day #3 of being tortured by Jillian Michaels: completed! My soreness is a mere 5/10 today. Yesterday was a 8/10.

How's everyone else doing? Any new joiners? Suzi (no blog?) tossed her hat in the ring earlier today. She'll be walking or doing yoga, depending on the weather. Sounds like a plan, Stan.

can she do it? #2

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:12:36 PST

I am very pleased to see that I will not be alone in my misery. Who knew this spider could spin such a sticky web? While I am letting Jillian Michaels kick my butt for 30 days, the following is also underway:

Kelly is giving up escalators and elevators for a month. I did this once years ago and lost 40lbs in two months. I worked on the 12th floor of an office tower and had to go back and forth to the basement many times a day. The first week was horrible. I wished for oxygen tanks by the fourth floor. By the end of the first month, I started wishing for more stairs. By the end of the second month, I could do the whole set several times in a row.

Tristan is planning to start eating a healthier diet and mentions drinking a lot of Dr. Pepper. I used to find pop very addicting. When I finally gave it up, I had three rough days (I swear it can be like a drug detox: sweats, headache, shakes....). I chose to drink only water and have no other beverages because I didn't want to replace one unhealthy habit with another. It worked. Now I only have clear tea and water and never crave pop.

I definitely think the road to success is built with small steps.

GardenLily jumped on the stationary bike and clocked in 5 km already.
You go, girl! When there was an opportunity for me to exercise or procrastinate this morning, I decided I'd dive right in to the exercise before my mind could think of 612 more important things to do. I hope there's some more stationary expeditions in GardenLily's near future too.

egorman (got a blog?) will get up early each morning (6:00 am) for the workout (25 minutes), and walking for 30 minutes every night after work.
Sounds like an excellent plan, egorman. I really like the Shred dvd because it's just a twenty minute commitment (and I already walk two hours a day by necessity as it is). Small, manageable steps that can fit into a tight schedule. Works for me. I hope you'll let us know how you're doing.

Kate would prefer to just eat French Fries for a month but I like this idea... so I will pledge to walk 2 miles, every day, 'til the end of November.
What are we going to do with Kate? Besides dangle fries on a stick in front of her as she walks her 2 miles a day. Good idea.

I chose 30 days because I believe it is true that it takes 30 days to create a new habit and break an old one. The first few days are always rough but it's amazing how forgiving the body is and how willing it is to change if you let it.

Today was just day two of my workout and I'm a little achy. I'm aching in places I didn't know I had muscles. Apparently they have been sound asleep.

If anyone else wants to join in, say the word. You just have to want to put conscious effort into something that will benefit your health for the next 3o days.

Suggestions:
daily exercise (sex counts, you know)
eliminating some poor food or drink choices
adding whole foods to your daily fare such as leafy greens, fruits, raw nuts, or seeds
yoga
meditation
mental fast: stop yourself from negative self-talk or bringing down someone else
brisk walking
dancing yourself into a sweat

Do whatever appeals to you and works. It's all good. And sore. But good.

can she do it? #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 19:38:08 PST

This is a fact of my life: the busier things get, the less fit I am. The last two months have been pretty goofy. And I'm feeling rather unfit. The laryngitis and cold with severe flu-like aches I had a few weeks ago have left me feeling lethargic. The demands of home and work have been heavy. I'm feeling like a lump of jelly. It's time to turn this ship around, people. This is no way to live a life!

I've always made it a point not to mention plans or intentions on the blog because, quite frankly, that seems to invoke disaster. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Want to make God laugh? Tell her your plans. And so on.

But I am going to take a big chance and make a commitment.

I'm going to try and do The 30 Day Shred workout dvd with Jillian Michaels every day for the next month with the option to take one day off per week. I actually did Day One about two weeks ago, woke up the next day with ACHING muscles and then got called in to do reno (physically demanding) work for a bunch of shifts. Sheesh. Unfortunately, my body does not consider paid labour equal to intentional unpaid workouts. My body insists on some good, old-fashioned suffering for its fitness.

So today's workout is beginning #2. The Shred workouts are just 20 minutes long switching between cardio and strength training to leave you panting and begging for ~~more~~ a shower, massage and mercy. The small time commitment appeals to me and my endless To Do lists. It seems (cover your ears Almighty One) doable.

Any joiners? You just need to pick something you want to do every day for the next month that will benefit your health and DO IT.

Paging all jelly bellies. Don't make me do this all alone!

Life is now. Leave your name and commitment in the comment box, if you dare. Unless of course you're already a fit and lean leaping machine....

eli does the dead bunny flop

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 07:18:00 PST

Some rabbits do this thing that is referred to as The Dead Bunny Flop. It's rather aptly named because when they do it, they do look like they are dying or having a seizure.

I know, it doesn't sound so pleasant but apparently it is a sign of contentment. Think of it like their version of flopping on the couch for a fine evening at home. Except it only lasts a few seconds. And it doesn't involve dominating the tv remote control or reading a good book.

I think every bunny owner has a wee freak-out the first time they see it. It looks like a move in entertainment wrestling: they do this little leap in the air, turning the body so they'll land with a THWAP on one side. The arms and legs contract and their eyes roll back. The only sign of life is breathing and a wiggling nose. It's weird.

The other day my girl was filming Eli doing his morning grooming when he happened to do The Flop. My girl was supposed to be practicing her piano (but instead was cooing over Eli) and happened to catch it on video. It happens around the 30 second mark:

If the embedded video doesn't work, you can see it here at YouTube.

Kinda creepy, no?

What we've been trying to capture is Eli stretching and yawning. I swear to you, it is ridiculously cute. But he doesn't do it after every nap so you never can tell when he'll give the big old stretch and open wide. Bunnies have very funny faces and it's double-funny when they yawn. Catching it on video has become a minor obsession. I may have to install surveillance cameras in his cage.

Or wait for my girl to sneak off from another piano practice and catch it then....

This is Eli's dreamy look: a nap is moment's away.

Sweet dreams.

linky dinks #18

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 11:02:22 PST

Greetings dear Earthlings,

This week's topics include oppositional brains, slow money, our oceans of plastic, acting like a chimp, and more.

Favourite quote of the week:

"As soon as you open your mouth, you're going to lose half your audience."
-Joy Behar

Behar imparts these words of wisdom to help toughen the skins of up-and-coming comics who are feeling discouraged by the brutality of the gig, in essence telling them, if you take a position and run with it, basic math tells us that about half the people in the room will disagree with you and/or take offense.

Any time you give an opinion, there is risk of upsetting someone. With comics, the goal, of course, is to state common truths with humour. If they're really lucky, the brilliance of the observation is so acute that even the offended find themselves laughing at our common foibles. Worst case scenario, they boo, hiss, remain silent, walk out, or retaliate.

I think it's helpful to remember this in the rest of life too. Whether it's business or personal relationships or blogging: by taking a stand you will divide your audience. And this is not a bad thing. It's how civilizations progress. Think. Discuss. Listen. Act. Our collective moral health and success is determined by how we respond and react.

The most ironic and hypocritical behaviour is to attack someone's exercising of free speech with violence or death threats or hatred. When this is the reaction, it's very hard to believe that freedom is really what someone is protecting or fighting for. Last I heard, democracy is not achieved by beating someone into submission.

I thought of this a lot during the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election. That ceaseless gap between liberal and conservative brains brewed and spewed endless rhetorical stink bombs over the imaginary fence between us. And yet, when you drill down into the non-fringe brains of the core of both groups, we ultimately want the same things. Peace. Health. Education. Freedom.... But there are strongly opposing views on how to get there or who might be included in our plans.

My muddle was further muddled by a talk at TED.com that revealed recent research verifying the worst case scenario: the brains of the two groups are truly, physically, chemically, wired differently.

Oh boy. All this time I thought civilized debate and truly listening to one another with an aim to understand the underlying dreams and desires would advance us further. But when it turns out we're operating with opposing brains that don't have the basic wiring to actually empathize with one another, well, that's a bigger problem than good conversation and the aim to build bridges can solve.

Or is it? I grew up in a household where at any given election time you might find signs for three opposing political candidates on the front lawn. I was just a kid so I have no idea how much opposing views were discussed, debated or lamented, or how we ever came to a meeting of the minds, but I do not recall World War III ensuing from freely choosing to vote for opposing candidates and speak up about it. We did still (and do) manage to be a family which has stuck together despite some ideological, political and religious differences so I'm guessing there is hope for our bigger family of humanoids this mighty planet as well. If I figure out the secret, I'll be sure to add it all fresh water sources in the world and send word to Drink Up.

The moral roots of liberals and conservatives by Jonathan Haidt. [TED.com]

Slow down, you move too fast
Another idea gaining momentum is Slow Money. What if you invested in an up-and-coming small business (a thoughtful one that considers carbon footprint, produces a valuable product or service, but remains outside the stock market and big bank system) instead of the usual stocks, bonds, or retirement funds?

Many fine businesses can't even get their banks or angel investors to consider funding them because they not fast-moving or techy or sexy enough. What's left? Finding individual investors willing to put their money in something appealing to their morals and ethics that will grow slowly and make the world a better place, all at the same time. It's like investing in a CSA (community supported agriculture) only with more options.
[cbc.ca slow money movement] [September 2009 podcast: slow money]

I'm always amazed by people who believe that animals don't think, feel, love, hurt, or grieve. Is this a way of giving ourselves permission to use animals for meat and other products without consideration for their well being? Happily, scientific research is rapidly confirming what those of us who love and care for animals have known all along: we do indeed share all of these things in common. I thought of this when I saw this photo:
[sweet grief]

making informed choices about eating meat [huffington post]
Lest you think I'm a vegan preacher, please note that I married a carnivore (and love him) and I support free choice. I'm simply encouraging free, informed choice with eyes wide open.

Why David Suzuki doesn't call himself an Environmentalist
"We want to put people into boxes so we can easily dismiss them."
[globe and mail video]

Can I go more than a week without mentioning the perils of The Great Pacific Garbage Patch?
No, I cannot. Because first of all, there is an equal cesspool of plastics floating in each of the oceans, and, these plastic are breaking down into mini plastic bits. Why is that a problem? Because sea life ingests them. And if you're not concerned about sick sea life, be concerned about the fact that if it's in our water and animals (most sea birds have dozens of plastic scraps in their stomachs), it's in US. You and me. And our children. Plastics absorb toxins at an exponential rate and if you're eating food or drinking water, you're ingesting these toxins too.

What can be done? We need worldwide agreements on what types of plastics can be produced and why. We need worldwide agreements on conforming the production of plastics so that more products use the same containers and lids (and so on) to enable widespread common use and reuse. We have to give up the consumption of single use complex plastic products that go straight into our waste systems and hence into our oceans. In case you missed it, 80% of plastics clogging our oceans and choking our sea life originate from our own hands on land. They are carried by winds and rivers into the sea. The massive currents around the center of these bodies of water hold the plastics there.

Consume less plastic. Make other thoughtful choices. Think about the long term value of your purchase: how long it will be of value to you or someone else. When you discard it, make sure it will be recycled or reused. Make other thoughtful choices. Speak up.

Use cloth bags and refuse any additional plastic when you shop. Bring cloth or net bags to hold produce (instead of those flimsy plastic bags that the grocery stores provide). Our home use is just one small example of all the plastic waste that goes on. Contact your government representatives on all levels to express your concern about the effect of plastic waste on our planet. And then contact them again. Tell your friends. Tell your blog readers. The health of our oceans is not an abstract nicety. Our survival depends on them.

Read more:
Woman tackles Great Garbage Patch [CNN]
Ocean poison [RTSea Blog]
Great Pacific Garbage Patch [wikipedia]
The World is Blue by Sylvia A. Earle [amazon]

Phew! I feel better. Sort of. Ish. Ok: not at all. It's a huge problem and the alarm bells are on full blast.

Use it or don't use it
It is the rare and unusual people of the world who are here to tell us what our brains are really capable of. I mentioned previously that our brains immediately discard 90% of what we take in / see with our eyes. That haunts me. What is here that we never get to see? The same goes for the brain. Most of us use so little of it. Savants and others have unlocked brains, allowing them access to parts the rest of us know nothing of. Sometimes at the loss of something else, sometimes not.

Last year I read the book, The Woman Who Can't Forget by Jill Price and Bart Davis. Jill has complete recall of all her waking life since her early teenage years. While it sounds interesting and perhaps very useful, ultimately she has found it very painful. She can remember every word of every conversation she witnessed, every news story, every event. But it doesn't actually make one more intelligent or able to use the information in a beneficial way. It's more like a relentless wall of recall that taunts and tears away at the quest to have a good life in the present moment. It also makes you the go-to person when others are arguing about some earlier event and your mind happens to contain a perfect record of what was actually said. There's so much more to learn about our brains. And so much more real estate available for use in them. If only we knew how to access it.

The Woman Who Can't Forget by Jill Price and Bart Davis [amazon]
Drawing a panoramic view of New York City from memory [techeblog]

A while ago I blogged about a cat in the U.K. who has been taking a daily bus ride on his own for several years. Well, I think the raccoons heard about:
[sfist.com]

depression might be an evolutionary adaptation
because, amongst other reasons, depression and intense thought are inextricably linked [newsweek]

say it is so
south african president jacob zuma ends the era of AIDS denialism by the State. [ethan zohn]
and good thoughts to ethan who recently underwent some wicked cancer treatments.

I think we should wrap up this edition of Linky Dinks with a lighter note:

I like this Halloween costume:
low resolution[makezine]

spiffy chicken coups
I'd live in one: [designspongeonline]

when in doubt, act like a chimp
I've mentioned previously that I once had to write a psychology exam that I was completely unprepared for. Thinking I would put the research I was familiar with to good use, I decided to randomly tick off the multiple choice answers instead of reading the questions. (I initally tried reading the questions and actually thinking about the answers but I knew I was in way over my head.) When in doubt, do what a chimp would do. They do well picking good stock market investments when the experts fail, no? I got 53%. This person did better with the heavy metal approach: [facebookfails.com]

Life is now. Enjoy!

glimpses #2

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 18:31:50 PST

The day brought snow, rain, sleet, hail, and globs of a combination of all of them, interspersed with brilliant sunshine. I love this time of year. It's nuts.

On the way to school we saw this woman and her dog in matching rain gear:

Not to be outdone, we then saw another woman and her dog in matching hoodies. This is one weird world. But funny sometimes. I couldn't get a photo of the second one. I like to be discreet with my photo taking, trying not to invade privacy but capture the glimpses of things that make my day.

Here's a head scratcher. On my way to the post office I noticed someone was directing traffic into the gas station which is very odd. I was just passing by but asked what was going on. There were at least 50 cars in line waiting for the pumps. I was told gas was "on sale" for 5 cents off per litre.

So, people are willing to wait in line (with engines idling) for 20 minutes to save, perhaps, $2.50 on their gas purchase (example: 50L x 5 cents each = $2.50 off). Yet, after buying said gas on sale, they pull into the StarBucks and spend $5+ on a cup of Double Triple Lava Java Whipped with Soy Froth.

The obsession with gas prices makes no sense to me. I see people throw money away all the time: not checking prices in the grocery store, buying bottles of water they could get from their taps, chasing designer labels and name brands, paying debit card fees, not to mention the zillions of big-time expenses like shiny new cars and giant houses and boats and trips and so on. And on and on and on.

Yet, damn it: they'll do anything to save a few bucks on the gas purchase. And the punchline was, gas was selling for 5 cents less per litre at regular price just down the road. Silly rabbits. Sometimes I feel like an alien in this funny, old world. They obsess over gas and I'm gulping at the rising price of broccoli (and all fruits and veggies...). Which of course is related to the rising price of gas...so maybe I'm not so alien to them after all. My obsession is just one step removed.

Gulp. If I don't watch it, Eli and I will be wearing matching outfits in no time.

light chaser

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 17:25:10 PST

Some chase tornadoes, I chase good light. Today the sky was really dark and the light was so vivid. The contrast was gorgeous. When you see good light, there's nothing to be done but grab the camera and click away. Because often, it disappears quite suddenly.

This is the peach shed next to the infamous peach house:

The paddock continues to be surrounded by a new housing development. My heart, she breaks...

Someone told me the peach house is on the chopping block and a new road will run through there. I'm holding out hope that they were wrong. I choose only to believe rumours I like.

Fall is delicious.

Drive on.

True Confession #2

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:49:08 PST

This is a story about kidnapping, theft, a three year-old girl, and addiction.

Before we go any further, it may surprise you to learn that the addiction was sugar and the kidnapper was the three year-old child. And that would be me.

For as long as I can remember, my life revolved around my personal quest for sugar. While cake, and more specifically, the icing on the cake, was high up on the list of best sugar fixes, chocolate bars were always the top favourite. My love of family holidays was rated according to which ones generated the most chocolate. Easter. Halloween. Christmas. All good. All chocolate. All mine. I remember feeling stunned years later when a friend had a half-eaten chocolate bunny in its original box on her dresser. In August! How could she not have eaten it all at Easter? I was baffled.

In those days my desire far exceeded the supply, which meant I was an average-sized kid with a very sweet tooth. I was always wanting just a little more than I could ever have. These were the days of free-range children, left to explore the great outdoors on non-school days, only to return home for meals. In our home we were not permitted to have sugary cereals and snacking was not common place. We might have dessert with dinner once a week or on special occasions. By the time I was school age, my weekly allowance was negotiated to match the current price of a chocolate bar, starting at ten cents and eventually bulking up to a quarter to keep in line with inflation. Nothing else mattered. But during my preschool years, I was at the mercy of anyone who might give me some sort of sugary treat.

I clearly remember certain moments on the day of the kidnapping. Other parts of the story have been retold to me.

I was three. It was our weekly grocery shopping day. We used to go mid morning and I looked forward to it immensely. Why? Because when the groceries were packed and paid for and we headed for the car, my mother would give me a penny for the gum machine on the way out. I'd only ride the toy pony if my dire need for sugar had first been met. If there was just one penny issued, gum was it.

In went the coin, around went the hand crank, and down plunked a perfectly round, hard-shelled, ridiculously sugary-coated gumball. Saliva would pool up in my mouth as the first bite released the crunchy gush of thick sugar coating and then gum. My jaw would ache from the shock of it. Then I would madly chew and chew and chew, hoping to recapture the zing of that first bite, which never did happen. By the time we were half way home, the flavour had faded out and it was all work and no pleasure to chew that gum. But that first burst of intense sugar was well worth it.

On the day of the kidnapping, my mother told me something had come up and we wouldn't be going to the grocery store until two in the afternoon. Do you know how slowly time moves when you are a child? Two o'clock was many, many hours away. I could not process this information. There I thought I was just moments from getting my beloved weekly gumball and then, without any warning, my world caved in on me. I would have to wait. Wait for sugar.

This. Could. Not. Be.

I've never been a person to ask for help. And it was not in my thinking to try and persuade my mother to change her plans. You just did not do that back then. I knew she had her reasons for changing plans and I was a quiet, congenial kid who never gave her any trouble. Until now. I immediately decided to take matters into my own hands. If she couldn't get me to that gumball machine, I would have to do it myself.

I located two pennies somewhere in the house and set out on my journey. For reasons I'm not sure of, I decided I needed to bring a friend. Perhaps because I had the extra penny and wanted to share my imminent good fortune. My favourite playmate was two year-old named Mary who lived about a block away. I took my brother's tricycle, because it had a trailer hitch and little wagon that attached to it, and set off for Mary's house.

Don't ask me how I managed to get Mary from her nap in her crib and secure her in the wagon without her parents noticing, but I did. Perhaps her parents thought I was simply taking her outside to play, which we often did. But instead, off we headed for the grocery store. The grocery store which was approximately 1.05 miles from our home. I've always been good with directions and apparently I was then too. Who needs a map when you're a very determined sugar-addicted three year-old who needs her fix? And needs it now.

After god knows how much pedaling, we made it to the store. How I wish I could time travel and see myself there now.

I do not personally recall the next part of the story, but you can bet that my mother has retold it to me many, many times with a mixture of shock and awe. Apparently the manager of the store recognized me with my young accomplice and, realizing that we were there unattended and quite far from home, called my mother.

Kiss. Of. Death.

My mother had a tiny car her mother had given her to help relieve the insanity of being a Trapped Mother On The Brink Of Insanity In A Small Suburban Town. Mary and I were placed in the car but my brother's tricycle and the wagon did not fit. We were taken home to face an assortment of lectures and punishments, but by the time anyone could go back later in the day for the bike and wagon, they were gone.

I remember my mother being upset. I remember spending a long time in my room. I remember wondering if Mary got in trouble too or her parents just credited me with the crime. Or perhaps we were back before nap time was over and they didn't realize she was gone until she was returned?

My brother was going to be a problem. He loved that red trike. The wagon was technically mine, but it was gone too. But none of this seemed like a really big problem. Why? Because we got the gum before the store manager found us. I got my sugar as planned and nothing else mattered. The girl had scored her fix. You know you're addicted when....

Epilogue
I don't think the punishment lasted long because, quite frankly, it made a great story for my parents to tell and retell. How many three year-olds do you know who could both pull off a kidnapping and pedal to a store a mile away without incident?

My brother went on and on (and on and on) about the lost bike for approximately the next 26 years. I think he finally dropped the claim when he saw that I was seriously going to buy him another tricycle to stop him from putting a lien on me. As I saw it, I was a girl on a mission and the getaway vehicle was simply a means to an end. The fact that my mother had to leave it at the store and some schmuck stole it was out of my hands. Or so my little brain thought.

My friend Mary and I continued to get into entertaining trouble. Not long after, we were spotted walking to the main drag in town wearing nothing but shirts (no other clothing), costume jewelery, white gloves, and high heels, carrying little handbags. As I recall we were on our way to the penny candy store. I also recall taking her to my Kindergarten Show and Tell but that time I received permission first. I just thought she was wonderful and loved showing her off.

My sugar addiction continued until my thirties. I was shocked into taking better care of myself when my father died of colon cancer and I started researching the causes of the disease that are within our control. I realized that you are indeed what you eat. Refined sugar offers no benefit to our health. (There's also a strong correlation between eating a lot of meat and colon cancer.) Through a vegan diet, I was able to transfer my fetish for sugar into a deep love for fresh vegetables and fruits. I can now happily say that sugar no longer owns me.

And, while it's not very interesting, my life of crime pretty much simmered down after my brief stint as a three year-old kidnapper. Though I have to say, when I see people addicted to drugs (or whatever), steal for their drug of choice, I understand where they're coming from. When you are controlled by something that way, nothing else matters. Nothing but that first bite into the gumball.

perennial harvest

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 09:18:28 PST

I like the fall garden. There's nothing to do but enjoy it.

True Confession #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 07:59:11 PDT

This is a story of revenge.

In high school there was a girl who taunted me. She persistently spread rumours about me, convincing others that I was an immoral and unsavoury character who spent her after school hours in outlandish drug and alcohol-fueled sexual adventures. While I didn't want that kind of life, I would have liked it to be a lot more interesting than it was!

In truth, I was extremely hard-working in high school. I had to travel two hours each way just to get to and from school and on top of that, I worked twenty hours a week at my part-time job. Homework clocked in at anywhere from 2-3 hours a night. Most nights I got home around 11:30 pm, finished up whatever homework I couldn't complete at work or on the subway and went to bed. I had to be out the door again by 7 am each morning. In other words, fun was not my middle name.

Ok, that's going a little too far. Maybe my middle name was Fun-ish. There were good friends and a lot of laughter squeezed in there too, but not the kind this Warped Girl lied about.

In hindsight I think I was the target because [drumroll please] I had very large breasts. Think large and then think larger and you might be in the ball park. God knows they could have filled a ball park. And I was the only one in the high school with this particular attribute. It wasn't that big a school (perhaps 75 students in the upper grades) but my breast size more than compensated for that. My cups runneth over.

When you have large breasts as a teenager (and/or when you are tall, which I am), people automatically sexualize you ahead of schedule. They assume you are older than your years, more sexually experienced, sexually available to them, and never as intelligent as your less breasty peers.

I don't need to tell you how offensive and predictable the catcalls are from strangers at every turn. BreastMen never look you in the eyes, just the chest. Consider my four-hour daily commute to and from school on public transit, multiplied by god knows how many stares, gasps, remarks, and occasional attempts at gropes, and you feel my pain. And the bra straps digging deep into my shoulders. Winter was a godsend for the mere fact that I would be fully-covered in a bulky coat and blend into the crowds. There was no disguising it in the heat of summer. Hello girls!

Back to the Warped Girl at school. I tried approaching her several times to discuss what was going on and she refused to acknowledge me. It wasn't like a blatant bullying situation where it would have been easy to identify and address it. It was the whispering on the school bus and little blurted out remarks. I also felt slotted by some of the teachers for the same big, breasty reasons and did not feel I could trust them to help me. I like to think things are more progressive these days but I don't know if it's true. Ignorance was certainly thriving back then. As if I wanted to have giant, painful, attention-grabbing breasts. Not so much.

The two incidences that stuck with me were once when a much younger child at the school said something cheeky to me as I was walking to the bus, where it was obvious that he didn't really know what he was saying but had some feelings of disgust for me. This told me that the rumours were spreading through the lower grades.

The other time was when my one of my best friends confessed that her younger brother had come to her to share his concerns about my (rumoured) behaviour. While she defended me to him, I could see that she was in essence asking me if any of it was actually true. It was heart-breaking to see the good souls being infiltrated. I did not want to defend myself to her or anyone else. (I also did not and do not wish to condemn anyone who is entangled in drugs, alcohol-abuse or so-called promiscuous behaviour. While I was not engaged in the underbelly of life, everyone has their reasons when they do and to every thing there is a season. It is not my place to judge. I'd rather take the bullet.)

It was hard enough having an out of proportion body that drew unwanted attention and ongoing back aches (heavy breasts are very painful to cart around), but to have it provoke people to spread lies about me and treat me unfairly was a bit too much. Ironically, there were two girls in my class who did find themselves in a lot of trouble in the evening hours with drugs, alcohol abuse, and unprotected sex. They would confide in me about sexually-transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies (and bulimia), but, unlike me, they were slim and beautiful and thereby bi-passed this evil rumour mill. Not that I wanted anyone to experience what I did, but it did seem funny how people see what they want to see not what is right in front of them. Like that's news.

So, dear readers, I think I've sufficiently summoned up enough support and pity with my story thus far to lead into my confession of revenge. I'm not actually a vengeful person. Once in a while my lower self thinks up naughty possibilities for payback time, but I have this really mundane other self that cancels it out. I actually have strong feelings that the Powers that Be know the truth and I don't really have to try and convince anyone else of my worth. But in this case, an opportunity presented itself one day and I acted on it. Carpe diem, as I used to scribble on the front of my notebooks.

You may not think this act of revenge it was a big deal but it certainly was to me. Something overcame me.

A few years after graduating from high school, I was going to a Halloween party. My costume was comprised of a long, hooded robe my brother had bought in Morocco, and a strange tin mask my mother always had hanging on a wall of our house. I borrowed both items thinking it would be a quick, effective, no-cost costume.

Indeed, the hood of the robe hung nicely over the edge of the mask and I was completely covered from head to toe. Breasts and all. It was definitely a creepy, androgynous look.

I was meeting my friends a few blocks away and ventured out in full costume. It was just getting dark and the street lights were on.

As I got to the main road, I looked ahead of me and there was Warped Girl. I had not seen her since high school. She was dressed as a flapper and walking alone in my direction. We were the only two people on the sidewalk. I saw her glance at me to assess my costume as we approached each other. There is no way she could tell who I was or even if I was a man or a woman (or other).

My heart started to race. I wish I could tell you I had a plan but honestly, my whole self just acted without premeditated thought.

When she was directly beside me, passing by, I suddenly lunged in her direction and let out this incredible, visceral combination of a yell and a scream. It was so fierce, my throat hurt for days afterward.

I did not touch her physically but suffice to say, I scared the living crap out of her.

She SCREAMED. I thought she was going to faint. I saw this look of terror wobble through her face and run right through her body. In a split second she turned away and started to run. I let out one last RRRARRR which made her scream again and I watched as she disappeared around a corner.

I turned and continued on my way.

I said to myself, I cannot believe I just did that. It didn't feel good or bad or wicked or wrong or anything like that. It just kind of felt like it neutralized the situation. I knew I was not a bad person. I knew she had been a bubble-headed teenager. But somehow, my spontaneous outburst, which evidentally invoked holy terror in her, seemed to wipe the slate clean. From my perspective anyways. She probably had no recall of ever harming me back in high school and certainly had no idea it was me in that costume on that day. But I felt freed. Like I could let go of it and move on. Giant breasts and all.

Postscript
I thought of this story because I happened to see a photo of Now UnWarped Girl on Facebook the other day. I hold no grudge. And I always think about our crazy encounter each Halloween.

As for the breasts: when I was done breastfeeding my youngest child, I had reduction surgery. All those years of backache: vanished. Hecklers? Gone! Expensive bras? No need! It remains one of the best things I ever did for myself.

Happy Halloween.

Dear Family Memo #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 08:09:44 PDT

Dear Family,

I am pleased to announce that a free seminar

Replacing The Toilet Roll 101

will take place this Saturday in the upstairs washroom.

Please wear comfortable clothes (pj's are fine) and bring a boxed lunch. Apparently we might be there a while since no one in the past twenty years or so has managed to change more than two rolls except me. I know, I'm a genius, but I'm confident y'all can be geniuses too.

Admission is free. Seating is limited.

Love,

m.

impossible not to love #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:27:52 PDT

It is impossible not to love

this orange (maple) tree we pass each day on the walk to school:

These ducks who gather on the rooftops and chatter away:

This yellow tree:

And the squirreliest squirrel in our garden. He chirps incessantly at anything and everyone. His claim to fame is trying to stop a cat fight. He didn't succeed but he chirped about it for about a half hour after the dust had settled:

It is impossible not to love this time of year.

glimpses #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 17:29:03 PST

Above
Here's my conclusion about hawks. You get one shot:

After that, they always have something better to do:

On the ground
Hats off to the farmer who conjured up the idea that s/he could get people to pay admission to walk around her/his cornfield under the guise of figuring out the maze. I always feel like we've been had when we do it. And yet we happily do it. Year after year.

The corn was very tall this year, which made it impossible to cheat the maze.

At home
The more I know Eli the rabbit, the more I like him. Funny how quiet rabbits are, yet such good communicators. I'm so used to having cats but rabbits are a whole other kettle of fish.

linky dinks #17

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 18:36:26 PDT

greetings fellow earthlings!

issue #17 of linky dinks is yet another mish mash of seemingly unconnected thoughts that have nothing in common but the fact that they interested me

and what more could you ask, really?

ok, let's get on it:

if the bees are ok, we are ok
it's been a rough year or so for the bees
and if you know how this big, old world works, that's never good news for us
martha stewart blogs about her honeybees

expand your mind. the universe is already doing it on its own.
q2c festival: from quantum to cosmos/ see the talks free online

i once had a subscription to this but let it go because i always have way more reading material than I can get through
the sun magazine some articles are online. there is enchantment there.

sometimes photoshopped photos capture truth more than untouched ones
china hush

occasionally the world responds to my rants
if you ask me:
LIFE is educational. Forget tv and dvd's for babies and toddlers (and so on). Let them play, get fresh air, whole foods, and interact within their worlds. The screen will not make 'em smarter. If anything, it dumbs 'em down. But the good news? You can take back your baby einstein videos for a full refund.
baby einstein is not educational

i'm looking forward to the day when obama is out of office
because that's when he'll have the freedom to really do what he's here to do
the same way Clinton has achieved so much more since he's been out of office
for now the oppositional forces are so determined to block his way
democratic politics are so very messy
lessons for obama

a new list I would like to expand upon
people who are 'pathologically honest'* (which is something I entirely enjoy)
1. kelly *I stole kelly's own words (pathologically honest) and then started making this list, which makes her the first honorary member.
2. kevin I thoroughly enjoyed the book that evolved from his blog, My Boring Ass Life. People on a message board starting asking him what the heck he does all day and he began writing about it. Delightful. And proves the point that no life is truly boring.
3. carrie Wishful drinking. A favourite book. Serious. Funny. Bipolar. Electroshock therapy. Truth. Recovery. It's all there.
4. _________ Should your name be here?
I look forward to growing this particular list. Maybe even add my name to it. Mwah ha haha.

have you ever known someone who requires very little sleep?
I have. I met Manley when we both worked for the same university professor who was a very productive and healthy guy and never slept more than 2-3 hours a night. He also ran many miles a day. I also remember hearing that Martha Stewart requires little sleep. In this story Roger Ebert talks about a man he knew who apparently did not sleep at all:
the man who didn't sleep

question of the day
if you will recall from human biology classes
90% of what we take in with our eyes is immediately disregarded by our brains
(no link: i was just reminded of this fact and it's on my brain)
So what is it we're not seeing?

six pieces of me (cluster #1)

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 11:27:56 PDT

1. I've never had coffee or alcohol. Not ever. Why? (you ask). I've never had any desire or urge to whatsoever. And believe me, once the hardcore consumers of these delights stumble upon this information, breaking my abstinence becomes their life's mission. To no avail.

The back story is that I grew up aware of coffee-addicted and alcohol-abusing adults in my life, and I never liked the idea of a substance holding that kind of power over me. That said, I swear I was born with a sugar addiction, that was only minimally fulfilled but remained ever-present until recent years. One angry tiger in the closet is quite enough for one person, I think. I didn't need the brewskies of either kind to compound my problem. And it's taken years to let sugar go. Thank god I didn't take on anything else.

2. Origin of my fear* of falling down stairs
One day when I was a toddler, I was using a baby walker on wheels (now banned in most parts of the world) and (accidentally) fell/went down the very steep basement stairs. By some miracle, the walker stayed upright and when I arrived at the bottom of the staircase, I continued footing myself around as if nothing had happened.

While I doubt my memory of the incident is first-hand (but rather stems from hearing this near horror story told and retold by my family), I believe it accounts for the fact that I have never ever in my life gone down a set of stairs without thinking about the fact that I could slip and fall.

*It's not exactly a fear, but a mind-fullness in a negative sense of the word.

3. Fear* of riding a bike down a hill
At age nine I was riding an adult's 10-speed bike very fast down a big hill on a busy road and the front wheel suddenly collapsed in on itself. I flew over the handle bars and landed on the side of the road. I don't recall any serious injuries (besides shock) but ever since then, every single time I ride my bike fast down a hill, I consider the fact that I could go flying off and be rather seriously injured.

*Do we see a theme yet? I'm yet to find a way to shut off these mental tapes.

4. The influence of dreams
I understood the meaning of soul as a very young child. I had a dream that a pack of dobermans (dogs) was attacking me. I stood in horror as they surrounded me and devoured my limbs. They then ate the rest of my body, leaving not a trace of me. And yet I was still there! I was still me but without a body. Hello soul!

Plus, (bonus) I realized that you can't feel physical pain in dreams. That was quite helpful too. It amped up my risk-taking behaviours in lucid dreams. Knowing I couldn't get physically hurt, I then started flying through walls and exploring a lot more of my dream worlds.

4. Why having only daughters provides Yang to earlier Yin
I have five older brothers and no sisters. Growing up, I desperately longed for a sister. Best friends came and went and I never had the Brady Bunch / imaginary intimacy with a female friend that I longed for.

I spent much of my childhood looking for a girl my age my parents could adopt. Each week I read the weekly column, Today's Child by Jean Lastname?, in the Toronto Star featuring children in foster care who were available for adoption.

I'd clip out profiles of girls who seemed compatible and pin them on my bulletin board. Occasionally, when I thought I'd found a sure bet, I'd show the clipping to my mother, hoping she'd leap in the car and rush to Toronto to make arrangements. While she never balked at my wishes, neither did she comply with them either. With five (mostly wild) boys in a very small house, her cup ranneth over.

Having grown up in Testosterone Hall, having only daughters (and female pets!) has offered a fine life balance overall. Manley is happily outnumbered and I found what I was always longing for.

5. I swam my way out of mono.
Years ago when I came down with a wicked case of mononucleosis, there was no way I could accept the prognosis that said I would probably be extremely tired and out of commission for many months. I had a young child, a full-time job, and a life to live, so the whole thing was just not acceptable to me.

It started with a strep throat so painful I wished death upon myself. I kid you not. And this is coming from someone who gave birth without medication. It was brutal. As the throat infection resolved but the mono-exhaustion remained, I got it in my head that I could exercise my way out of the mono. I'm not sure why I applied the theory of opposites, but I did. I started a swimming routine, and gradually worked up to two miles a day, seven days a week. I became really, really fit and did not feel the fatiguing effects of the mono ever again.

Did the swimming fight the mono? I'll never know. But I'm sure glad I did it.

6. How to make a poor memory a happy experience
For many years, I used to leave a $20 bill in my Winter coat pocket when I would store it away each Spring. (This was a time in my life when $20 was a good chunk of change.) And every Fall I would put on the coat, find the money, and feel happily surprised. I forgot I had put it there!

My memory is oddly selective. I can't remember anything I learned in school or movies I've just seen or much about books I've just read. And apparently I can't remember that I leave surprises for myself in things like coat pockets. While it's frustrating not to have a better brain, I have learned to work it to my advantage. For Manley it means he can tell and retell funny stories and I earnestly react with the full-on belly laugh each and every time, as if every time is the first time I've heard it, because essentially, it is. Everything old is new again.

There's lots of things I do remember, but like many people, much of it is stuff I wish I could forget. Which reminds me of another story. But I'll leave it for another time.

PS: As you can see by the lack of blog entries, it was a busy week and I'm way behind in answering emails.....C'est la vie. I hope life is sweet where you are.

household tip #1: opening jars

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 14:40:40 PDT

My sister-in-law Aw is a Thai chef (from Thailand). She's also Buddhist. She likes food to be both delicious and beautifully presented. If there's one thing that can lure me out of a raw food diet, it's her cooking.

Because baked goods are uncommon in Thailand, and I love learning new ways of cooking, we exchange lessons. Aw is very curious about yeast breads, cakes, and especially cinnamon buns. I am learning a variety of (mainly) veggie and noodle dishes. We seem to do about equally well trying replicate each other's methods. Her cinnamon buns come out tough (mine are light and fluffy) and my noodle dishes are okay but missing that extra wowy-powy awesome (a la Aw) taste. Aw's are Delicious with a capital D. But we both keep working on it. Funny how that works when we're cooking under identical conditions.

I admit I'm a bit reluctant to encourage her interest in baking. I mean, what good can come of it? Thailand has so far avoided the ill-effects of yeast breads (and dairy products). What if Aw returns to her homeland and sets a new trend that results in obesity in Thailand? I don't want my name on that paper trail! Perhaps I should have her sign a confidentiality agreement. What happens in Canada, stays in Canada.

Our cooking lessons get so funny sometimes that we've seriously considered taping them for a YouTube Thai cooking show. Aw is a natural on camera, and I'm sure a lot of people would love to learn how she cooks. We're still mulling this over.

During one cooking lesson, I was trying to open a very tight jar lid and Aw showed me how it's done in Thailand. She inserted a spoon under the lip of the jar and pressed the handle down. The outward movement of the spoon tip made the jar POP open. It's quite a satisfying sound. I've learned a lot of jar opening techniques over the years but this one is the simplest. My statistics so far indicate an 80% success rate on the first try.

POP. Awesome.

update on peebee #5: the end?

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 16:42:03 PDT

I'll never forget the first time we met. I arrived home to find him standing at my front door. I said hello and he jumped up on the railing to get a better look at me. Not certain of his name, my daughter dubbed him PeeBee, short for Pretty Bird.

PeeBee soon learned that there's fine bird seed and peanuts to be had in the back garden and he started spending his days there. Each morning I'd come out at the same time and he would be there waiting for me. I'd pour the seed and then talk to him for a while. If I tried to leave too soon, he'd hop down to the ground and follow me. Sweet bird.

Before long, all of the other critters in the Empire had met our fine Prince and befriended him. PeeBee played no favourites (except perhaps me). He was willing to share with anyone who came along and didn't seem to fear or cause fear in anyone.

The squirrels could be engaged in five-way wars and PeeBee would just stand there in the midst of their chaos, bobbing his head now and then to get a better look.

Some days I would be doing yoga in the house and I'd look out to find PeeBee doing yoga on the fence.

Eventually, I would be working in the back garden and PeeBee would fly around from roof top to roof top. I could call him and he'd come flying over to our house and then hop down onto the fence, confident that I had left him something delicious to eat. Smart bird.

After a few weeks together, I began to worry about PeeBee's future. He was a tame pigeon living like a free bird. I did not want to confine him in a cage for the winter, but I knew his chances of survival would not be great without some assistance.

We had many conversations about this, he and I. I told him, if he was going to find a better winter home, he should do it soon. There were also a lot of hawks spending a little too much time on the roof tops, and I suspected they were trying to figure out how to spell PeeBee so they could put his name on the dinner menu.

Soon after we went on a day trip. I had a feeling that morning would be the last time I saw PeeBee. Sure enough, he wasn't there when we arrived home. Or the next day. Or the day after that. And I haven't seen my sweet prince since then.
My hopes are that he found another sweet spot to land. Somewhere safe and warm with good seed, fresh water, and more fine conversation. I miss our morning talks. He was a great listener.

Farewell, PeeBee. It was a honour having you here.

linky dinks #16

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 18:39:44 PDT

i can't always remember which photos i've used here, so these may be reruns from the summer but no matter....they seem appealing on this cold fall day

welcome to linky dinks #16

Today theme is themelessness. In other words, these links just tickled me one way or another and have therefore become their own Brady Bunch of Hyperlinks.

lost and found
I read a lot of blogs. Mostly I swoop and skim. Sometimes I become so enamoured, I go through the entire archives to devour the goodness. As I've mentioned before, about once a year, my (old and clunky) computer goes bizerk-o and I have to reset it to its factory settings to get it functioning again. And every time I do this, I seem to forget to save my bookmarks (I've since switched to GoogleReader).

The fallout has been that I have lost track of a number of people/blogs I really enjoyed following. Every so often I think of someone I used to connect with years ago (in the early days of blogging when it was still so very cozy) and I squeeze my brain trying to recall names of details to find/search for that person again. So many went by pseudonyms that complicate the search. It's funny how these people live on in my mind. It almost makes me wish there was a Facebook-type application for online pseudonyms, where people could remain anonymous but still be found by those old names.

Stephanie's blog nie nie caught my eye a few years ago because of her beautiful photographs (and husband and four children). Quite honestly, first and foremost, her unfathomable (to me) beauty grabbed me.

Last week I happened to see her on Oprah. Another lost blog found! And I couldn't believe what had happened since I last checked in on her. A year ago, Stephanie and her husband were in a horrible plane crash and by some miracle escaped the burning wreckage. Stephanie received burns to over 80% of her body. It's hard to know what else to say, except her strength and beauty most certainly endure.
nie nie
more about Stephanie on Oprah.com

lost and found wedding rings
one ecologist and his lost wedding ring

which reminds me of my own story:
the story of Manley losing his wedding ring

how low can you go?
I've been wearing the same clothes (or versions of them) for most of my adult life (think Happy Hobo). My interest in fashion and trends hovers around a solid zero, but, I admit some things catch my eye and occasionally give me a good laugh. Case in point: boys wearing their pant waistbands around their hips. It's funny, impractical, and, well, yet another goofy trend. Every era seems to have some version of this.

This said, I have now learned the secret behind this style. I had no idea...
http://dropular.net/drop/72813
Now I get it.

sharing is caring
If there's one deplorable aspect to the internet, it's the mean stuff. I'm always in favour of healthy debate, but snap judgements, and the attack mentality, do not tickle me pink. How easy it is, with just a few keystrokes, to attack and condemn with little thought or understanding. Or no concern for the ill effects. When it is good, it's very, very good and when it is bad it is indeed wicked.

I mention this because when Gwyneth Paltrow started goop.com, the trolls and critics came out in droves. Kind words don't drive traffic the way negatives do. Personally, I like to be my own judge and jury. After all, you never know when you'll find gold in them hills. And last time I checked, celebrities really are thinking/feeling human beings like the rest of us.

I enjoy goop. My hunch is that if Gwyneth wasn't famous, there wouldn't be any negative backlash about it. See for yourself.
goop

toying with you
massive marionette
make a felt doll

elements
It amazes me how much it has changed since my own high school chemistry classes. I loved math, physics, and chemistry. You just follow the theories and formulas and poof: it all works out. If only life were that simple.
periodic table showing uses for each of the elements

the world may be going to hell in a handbag, but that doesn't mean there aren't a lot of neat-o people doing a lot of neat-o things
inventor girl

smile
i don't care if...

thought of the day
Wherever you go, there you are.

secrets and letting go

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:19:19 PDT

These week's theme seems to be secrets. The pain of keeping them. The fear of revealing them. The healing power of finally releasing them. Pride, shame. Acknowledgement, forgiveness.

First I heard someone say, 'you're only as sick as your secrets' . I had not heard this expression before. And then I heard it three more times within a few days.

Next I heard Chris Rock say, 'Secrets rock the soul.'

Then I read:

'Secrets are like vampires. A wise friend of mine once said this. They suck the life out of you, but they can only survive in the darkness. Once they're exposed to the light, there's a moment of horror, of recognition, but then poof--they lose their power over you.' - Jeanette Walls (O Magazine)

Next I heard:

'If you have somebody you love, I don't care how much you love them, if you can't be honest with them, it's not going to work. If she don't know your secret, it's going to haunt you. You can't love her.' - Mike Tyson

They are all saying the same thing. You cannot have health, balance and love while secrets are suppressed. The energy to keep things hidden seems to divert the river-o-love.

I think letting go of secrets can be very healing or damaging. It depends on who you reveal it to and why. And how it is received. In the wrong hands, a secret becomes fodder for gossip and scorn. In the right hands it can be embraced, respected, and placed in its proper place. Perhaps dismantled and let go of. Once and for all.

This got me thinking about secrets I have kept over the years. For the most part, they are other people's secrets which I either witnessed or stumbled upon. This rather long list includes: rape, incest, physical and emotional abuse, molestations, deceit, theft, fraud, infidelity. The degree of seriousness varies from criminal to minimal. Sometimes I knew the victim, sometimes the offender. Sometimes both. And every one of them kept their secrets locked up so tightly inside. I can see how it has steered their lives and taken them along very rough roads. Some secrets really blow out your power steering.

Sometimes I wonder what effect keeping other people's secrets has had on me and my health. I've felt much more weight from those secrets than any pockets of regret or shame I carry about myself. Sometimes opportunities come up where it would probably be very healing to let the secret come out, but it's kept inside. And it's not my place to tell it. So it isn't told. I just stand by, hoping. Waiting.

I do know one funny secret of my own I would like to tell. In high school my best friend, Jo, kept breaking up with her boyfriend, Jake, and getting back together with him. Once, while they were on yet another break, he came over to visit me and we kissed. I mean, really excellent and delicious kissing. After an hour or so of exceptional snogging, he left and my friend showed up not ten minutes later. I couldn't believe they didn't run into each other going to and from the streetcar! When my friend arrived, I was still very happily jelly-legged from the effects of his visit but I said nothing. Of course.

I'm sure Jo would have suspected something because her spidey-sense was otherwise quite tuned in, but it would have never occurred to her (or me) that he would ever show up at my house and end up in this low-level booty call, so she probably interpreted the stupefied look on my face as something else. She did not pick up on the scent of lust. Or the scent of him. Or the secret from then-on kept.

(In case you don't know the Code of Acceptable Behaviour, it would have been considered fairly criminal for me to lock lips with Jake even while he was possibly forever broken up with Jo. The unwritten Code allowed each of them to quietly date other people while on these breaks, just not other people the other person knew, and certainly not the best friend.)

(No wonder anthropologists struggle to understand ancient civilizations.)

Jo always assumed that she was to have the boyfriends and I was not desirable to the boys. And that's how our lives pretty much played out. Except in truth, I was never desirable to the boys I found desirable, with the exception of her boyfriend, who I didn't want to have as my very own boyfriend but I very much enjoyed kissing. If you follow.

That's quite different than being entirely undesirable though I see no fault in that either because my very favourite friends ever (and I assure you, I have outstanding taste) all seem to have been people who had few or no suitors for many, and sometimes very lonely years. In summary, most of the world has poor taste in partners. I think we're all very blind when it comes to noticing outstanding and beautiful souls who are all around us. Over and over again, we are attracted to the wrong things. The wrong people. My (then) self included. And man, do I wish I could have do-overs. There were several very fine young men I turned down or did not notice until it was too late.

I guess you're not ready until you're ready and until then, you make bad choices and deal with those instead.

So, back to Jo and Jake. They reconciled a few times and finally broke up for good. Jake and I would spend time together during each of the hiatuses. Kind of like we were dating but we were not. Our snogfests remained our secret, though there were several times when Jo was quite mean about her ability to attract such a multitude of boyfriends versus my apparent inability to do so, that every so often I wanted to tell her about Jake and I to get back at her. I know, it's terribly petty but she could be mean, and I was the underdog, and it would have packed a good wallop for her to hear that her favourite boyfriend, who she could never quite get along with, liked spending time with me. And not just for kissing. There were occasional movies and games of Scrabble in there too. She would have been shocked. And I would have had one small moment of guilt-ridden and pathetic victory. Even though he was obviously playing both of us.

The odd part of the story is that even after all these years, I still occasionally feel the urge to tell her about it and I can see that the information would not be well-received. Jo is still very competitive with me. I wish that wasn't the case. I think it would be funny to compare notes on how very young we were and how messed up our little love triangles were. But I don't see it ever being a prudent choice to spill these little beans to her. She would just be hurt. So instead, I keep the secret. Except now you know it too.

Your turn.

P.S. Yes, I know about PostSecret. I don't always believe them, but I like the idea. Somewhat.

frosty note to self

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:01:39 PDT

Last time the temperature was below zero this year: May 18, 2009 (even though we were taunted with frost-like temps into June)
First fall frost: October 12, 2009
Number of hours the temperature stayed below zero during first frost: 11 (that's a lot)
Number of frost-free days we relished in this year: 146 (that's also a lot)

Nature makes dying looks so very beautiful.

thanksgiving weekend

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 05:44:00 PDT

In a happy coincidence, my family is gathering this weekend and it will mark the first time my five brothers and I have all been together in (*gasp*) twenty-two years (or something like that). Time flying seems to be a prevailing theme recently.

Here's some pics from last year's October vault:

and, from eight years ago:

Just between you and me, sometimes I really, really miss having a baby/toddler in the house. Unless you're Michelle Duggar, that gap between having kids and becoming a grandmother is a bit too long for a baby-obsessed types like me.

There are certain points in parenthood where one feels quite competent, and other times where one feels incompetent. It's a slow motion roller coaster ride through phases of highs and lows and coasting along. Babyhood was definitely one of my best parenting eras. I savoured it. All of it. And (boasting) I can whisper even the most relentless little gaffer into a restful sleep. Perhaps that's why I still get such big baby pangs sometimes: longing for one last run at those sweet days.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving. Savour the harvest and swing your sickle like you mean it.

google street view: a friendly big brother?

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 16:49:48 PDT

Last spring I happened to see the Google street view camera car four times in my neighborhood. Three of those were within five minutes of each other, so I figured if I would be able to find myself in the online images somewhere. They have now been posted for my area. I found me (and my mother) in one of the images. We were having our morning chat after walking the kid to school:

I have to say I find the whole notion of street view images both creepy (invasive) and very interesting and useful. It's yet another tool that can be used for both good and evil. I suppose those are always the most valuable kind.

After scouring the houses in my neighborhood, I then started looking at places I used to live.

I found my childhood home in Richmond Hill, Ontario. It now looks a little small for a family of eight. And it was:

The nearby pond was the centre of my childhood universe. Much of my free time was spent fishing (we always threw them back) and exploring in the (then) undeveloped and wild back area. There used to be a bridge over the creek/river that was perfect for playing Billy Goats Gruff with evil trolls. Winter meant skating from dawn until dusk (I kid you not. I stopped only when I really, really had to pee and I would run home in my skates to use the washroom. I would crawl across the floor so I wouldn't have to take my skates off.) The pond is far more civilized now (below) but we knew it when....

This is the house we moved to in downtown Toronto when I was a teenager. My mother plants magnolia trees everywhere she lives and this one (left of the house) is now about 25 feet tall! My bedroom was at the very top. We loved that house.

We lived there in a little golden era when the housing prices were low (the house was $89,000 was back then, as opposed to ten times that now) and the 'neighborhood watch' consisted of a core group of intoxicated men who always watched out for me when I was coming and going at odd hours for school and work.

They would drink copious amounts of anything containing alcohol and sleep much of the time in vacant front gardens but when I went by they all said, Good morning, Blondie! and some would even stand up to bow. They were sweet, funny, and kind and I felt protected by them. There were pockets of prostitution on nearby streets and when the occasional John would drive by thinking that because I was a female alone I must be there to service him, my Boys (the Neighborhood Watch) would set him straight in no time. That was chivalry at its finest.

I have to say, while my inner jury is still out on the invasive feeling of the street view images (despite the fact that they block out faces and licence plates), I have to say it's really fun to look around areas I used to know. I have visited these old haunts once in a while but having the ability to really look things over from home with the seamlessly connected images is so satisfying.

How to do it? Street views are only available in some areas but give it a whirl.
You go to:
googlemaps.com/
and type in the address you want to see.
Then, when the map view comes up, drag the little yellow person icon to the location you want to see from street view:

From there, you can go along any streets and turn 360 degrees to see whatever you like.

It's addictive! Between Google Earth and Street View, you could do a whole lot of fun traveling from your desktop. You have to download Google Earth(well worth it! for exploring the entire planet) but Google Maps with street view is a web-based application so no downloading necessary.

As expected, people are finding all sorts of strange and funny things in these images, from identifying fleeing bank robbers to the simple bizarre things that people do.

Here's a few examples:
http://www.canoe.ca/Travel/Microgalleries/googlestreetviewcanada/home.html
google street view glitch creates two C.N. towers

Question of the day
Have you tried Google Street View? Or Google Earth?