September 11th, 2001 has had a profound impact – be it directly or indirectly – on countless people around the world. As many others, I remember where I was, what I was doing as if it were yesterday. This post is one I wrote last year as part of Project 2996. Today, ten years after the towers fell, its meaning remains as profound. The lives that have been affected by that day continues to cause a ripple through time as many, myself included, have not forgotten those whom where lost, the families that were forever changed, or the countless first responders who risked their lives for complete strangers. Those lost September 11th, 2001 remain, to this day, in our hearts. 

:::

You would have been fifty-one this year.

You may even have still been with Marsh & McLennan Cos. Inc, in the same building, with the same co-workers and friends. You likely would have kissed your wife Christy and daughter Christina goodbye as they saw you off to work. Some have hinted you would have arrived at the office, after your 45 minute commute from Wantagh on Long Island, with a muffin and coffee in hand and a smile on your face.

You would have been beaming with great pride over Christina’s university scholarships,  where she now follows in your footsteps as she studies accounting.

:::

Richard (Rich) Anthony Aceto, of Wantagh New York was at work, in One World Trade Center, The North Tower, on that crisp September morning. Colleagues and friends describe Richard as a friendly, happy and always smiling gentleman. Richard was a great friend who made time for those close to him, even if it meant rushing Uptown to meet up with a former colleague for a quick bite to eat. Unbeknownst to him, this selfless hike Uptown to see Nancy would be the last they saw of each other. He will never know how grateful she is to have such a friend in Richard.

Richard Anthony Aceto
March 24, 1959 – September 11, 2001

Richard loved his family deeply. A colleague recounts Rich’s beaming face upon his return to work after the birth of his only daughter Christina. Christina, Richard’s “Baby Girl”, now a bright and beautiful 19-year-old woman, lost her father before she really had the chance to know him. At just 12 years old, Christina read allowed her father’s name during the September 11th memorial. As one of the first readers, she said: “I love you, Daddy. I miss you a lot. Richard Anthony Aceto.”

I hope Christina’s had an opportunity to meet some of his childhood friends who could share stories of the ball games on Butler Street in South Brooklyn. Those who called him “Richie” and still remember the smell of her Grandma’s cooking.

Richard’s wife, Christy Athanasiou Aceto, who also works in the accounting field, holds a position in a Midtown New York firm to which she travels regularly from, I assume, their home in Wantagh. Gathering from an obituary guest book entry she posted many years ago to a colleague of Richard’s, Christy appears to be a very kind-hearted sentimental woman with green thumb as the perennials given to her and Richard had flurished in their garden.

:::

I was in New York City recently. I spent a day where the World Trade Center towers once stood. I paid my respects at St. Paul’s Chapel and as I walked those city blocks, I thought of you.

At Tribute WTC, I found you.

Amongst the names of the fallen, I searched.

I searched for a man I knew little about.

I found father, a friend, a kind-hearted  gentleman who was taken far too soon.

You are remembered, Richard.

Always.

:::

This tribute for Richard Anthony Aceto is part of Project 2996. There are still a number of wonderful people who were lost that are without tribute. Please consider participating and celebrating the lives of those men and women who were taken from their loved ones far too soon.

Richard worked for Marsh & McLennan Cos. Inc, which took up eight floors in the North Tower: from 93 to 100. At 8:46am, Flight 11 hit the North Tower between floors 93 and 99. Of the 295 employees and 60 consultants present at the time, none survived; but they remain in our hearts.

Random Posts

• New Digs, Part Deux
• if you cannot laugh at yourself, laugh at someone else
• this started out as something completely different

13.1 – The number of miles I ran on May first when I completed my first half marathon in 2 hours and 27 minutes. I’d write about it, but I just haven’t been able to find the time. I injured my knee during training when my GPS messed up and under calculated a run by 3km (roughly a mile) and I exceeded the 10% rule. My knee hasn’t been the same since. It’s depressing and annoying. Running the race was a little difficult, and I walked a little more than I wanted, but regardless, I was still pretty happy with my time.

3.1 – The number of miles I’ve run since.

0 - The amount of weight I have lost this month.

0 – The amount of weight I have gained this month.

744 – The number of hours I have felt guilty for not running/working out. After all this work I have done, it would be stupid to throw it all away.

2 - The number of birthdays we’ve had in May.

3 – Hudson’s age. Three crept up on me. I wasn’t ready and it makes me feel old.

30 - My age. 30. Also crept up on me and I was a little more upset about it than I thought I would be.  Thirty. *sigh*

1 - The number of teeth my soon-to-be-six-year-old has lost. Also makes me feel old. My kids are growing up so fast. Again: I feel old.

6 - The number of gallons of paint I’ve put on my walls.

3 – The number of weeks my new carpet has been delayed.

10 - The number of times I’ve wanted to kill Mike when he’s asked me if I know anything about the carpet’s delivery date.

10 – The number of times he’s asked me about the carpet

3 – The number of new cars I’ve driven this month while I test drive for Urban Moms. Coming up later this summer, reviews for:  Jeep Grand Cherokee, Chrysler Town & Country, Dodge Caravan and Ram 1500.

2,600 - The pounds per square inch of pressure in our new pressure washer: likely enough to peel the paint off a car. Completely unrelated to the previous item, just so you know.

3, 500,000 - The number of dollars worth of work I have provided estimates for just in this past month alone. Currently matching our company’s gross annual sales. Needless to say, I’ve been a little busy.

55 - The average number of hours I’ve been in the office per week.

25 – The average number of hours I’ve worked from home at night.

3.5 – The average number of hours of sleep I get.

1, 238, 438 - The number of times I have told someone to stop crying/hitting/whining/fighting/breaking things/running away from me/talking back/slamming doors.

30 - The number of times I’ve thought about writing here and then been unable to spend more than 10 minutes to string some words together. I really, really, really miss this place. I miss you guys.

4 – The average number of Tim Horton’s coffees I have in a day.

150 - The number of dollars we spent on a gorgeous hand-me-down leather couch which is currently sitting in my garage waiting for its new home.

1 – The number of hours I may have hid out in the garage, laying on said couch, on Sunday morning while my kids fought inside.

37 - The number of compostable yard bags I’ve placed at the road for collection after clearing out my gardens and backyard which were still full of last fall’s leaves.

Also, am I the only one can’t believe it’s June already? Where the fuck has 2011 gone?

Random Posts

• Back in Ten & Rookie (Mom): Week 4
• Gearing up for the next stage
• Why friends probably shouldn’t work together (Read: Shit, we really need an accountant)

My immediate family is not a religious one. We enjoy the holidays, but not for the reason they were intended when it comes to Lent, Passover, Easter Sunday, and especially Christmas, much to my grandfather’s chagrin. He is a very religious man and I think it hurts him that his great grandchildren have not even been baptized. But holidays mean different things to different people; holidays, for us mean family and love.

Holidays are a time for our family to spend together without running around completing last minute errands, going from activity to activity or dragging the kids around for mundane tasks. We indulge in cuddles and kisses while hanging out in our pajamas and gorging ourselves on delicious treats.

I’ll admit, I am totally sucked into the commercialism of some holidays, especially Easter. I love that Easter means baby bunnies, kittens and ducklings. I love that the kids eat chocolate for breakfast and I adore the fuzzy stuffed animals delivered by the Easter Bunny.

Holidays are a special time for us to celebrate love and friendship regardless of one’s religious beliefs. Everyday is special and should be enjoyed with those we love, but only holidays, memories are made and shared however you choose to reflect. Life makes the best story.

No matter how you choose to spend this Easter holiday, I hope you are surrounded by loved ones. If you chose to spend this time in reflection, I wish you peace and love. If you spend the day in your jammies eating Peeps and chocolate eggs, I hope you have someone to peel the wrappers for you.

Most of all: take some time to press pause. Take in your surroundings, your family and your friends. Enjoy their company and shower them with love; today and every day.

:::

I am a member of Hallmark’s Press Pause Panel and have been sent a number of items to share with my friends and loved ones as we celebrate Easter and upcoming Mother’s Day, including: Totally Ticklish Duck who giggles when you tickle her under the wings; the Memory Keeping Recordable Frame which allows you to record a 10-second explanation of your photograph; and the adorable Watson the Raccon who participates as the story is shared aloud.

Hallmark has been the go-to holiday card company for years and now carries on the tradition with other memorable keepsakes which can be enjoyed all year long. Life is a special occasion. Enjoy.

Random Posts

• UPDATE: Work Meeting
• Unintentional Hiatus
• In Stride

I quit taking antidepressants cold turkey over a year ago after a weekend out-of-town. I forgot to bring my pills with me and the withdrawals were debilitating: the dizziness; the nausea; The Rage. It was enough to have me committed. I knew then I needed to try something else. I wasn’t comfortable with the dependency my body had on these synthetic drugs.

I am in no way advocating for anyone else to stop taking their prescription medication on their own, just so you know…

In lieu of the medication I began working out (running, swimming and Jillian Michaels DVDs), taking regular vitamins (Vitamin D and One-a-Day) and made a conscious effort to cut the shit food from my diet – or at least minimize it. I very much believe that avoiding any and all junk food is a real contributor to binge eating and yo-yo dieting. It’s about moderation; learning to eat chips; pizza; ice cream in moderation is key. Or at least that’s what I tell myself; if I force myself to avoid that deliciously craptastic food then that’s all I can think of. Besides, for me, this wasn’t – and isn’t – about weight loss, but a lifestyle change. The fact that I’ve dropped almost 50 pounds is a bonus.

Within a few weeks of cutting the drugs and starting a regular workout routine , I noticed my attention span improve, my attention to detail increase dramatically (which is crucial in my role as a cost estimator) and I was no longer living in a drug-induced haze. Looking back, I really believe my lack of performance at work was related to living in this drug-induced fog which allowed me to just get by but not really function.

I still live with depression; that hasn’t changed. There are definitely days where I still fight the urge to stay in bed all day, to veg out on the computer and to answer to no one, but running has given me an outlet. It gives me space, time to think – TIME ALONE. Sure, I have the beat of the music to distract me from hyperventilating, but for the time I am hitting the pavement, it’s about me.

This all sounds so cliché, I know. I feel like I’m a fuckin’ Nike commercial or something.

Seriously though, I have really noticed my ability to handle stressful situations has improved, I am so much more level-headed than I was before (just don’t ask Mike, he’ll tell you I’m still the same old crazy bitch I’ve always been).

May 1st, I am running a half marathon with Karen Sugarpants. I will admit: I’m scared. I’m scared to fail. I know it’s not about winning; there are no delusions of grandeur here. I am not in this to win it; I am running for me. I have trained (as much as one can while working 60 hours a week and raising two small children) but I think because I have invested so much time and energy into this, I really want to meet my goal of finishing this thing RUNNING.

The past two weeks were pretty tough mentally. I have been sticking to the The 10% Rule – the Golden Rule of Running and not training beyond that point at all, until one unfortunate day when I didn’t manually check my route on Google Maps and relied solely on the GPS of my iPhone and Nike+ app. Well, the well-planned distance of 16.4km (10.3mi) was miscalculated by the GPS and became 19km (11.9mi) – which I only realized after hobbling home once I completed 3 additional kilometres. After that, just walking was painful. There was very little running because my knees ached so bad. I thought I was finished. I thought I had blown this whole race and wasn’t even going to be able to compete. I reached out to some friends on DailyMile and after realizing the distance I had put on my shoes in the past year (700km or 440mi), I was more than due for some new kicks.

Long story long: I bought new shoes; they feel great. Instantly my knees thanked me and I feel like I am back in the game.

I think I can finally say: I am ready.

Guys, I’m running a half marathon!

• No More Running on Empty
• Rejection, Dejection.
• In Stride

I’m kind of a laundry snob.

Okay, not really.

I’m lying.

I don’t sort colours, I wash whatever is in the basket – wools included. If the woollies make it out in one piece, it was meant to be. I dress out of the drier constantly sometimes, if it’s wrinkled? I throw it back in the drier for a few minutes. So, I’m particular about the scent of the detergent and that’s about it, okay?

I hate powder detergent. Never use it unless I have to. I remember growing up and having to do my own laundry as a teenager (deprived, I know, feel for me) and I would put too much powder and it would leave clumps of soggy, wet, partially dissolved detergent everywhere. It probably didn’t help that I crammed every last stitch of clothing in the machine so I didn’t have more than a couple loads, but that’s beside the point.

My detergent has to smell good. No. Not good. Great. It has to have a strong scent that lasts DAYS after it’s washed (that way I can tell clean clothes from the dirty ones) so when I pull it from the drawer it still smells like it has just been washed. I have tried a couple different brands but I am very loyal to a select few, so when I was asked to try out Sunlight Deep Clean Cold Water Detergent (over 8 months ago), I was a little skeptical; not because I didn’t think it would work but because of the POWDER DETERGENT. The Sunlight powder was only one my mother used while I was growing up and it scarred me! (Kidding!) (Kind of.)

I know you’re rolling your eyes now because you’ve been sucked into what appears to be a review, but please bear with me. I have something to share!

So, along with the detergent I was sent a press kit with the write-up about Sunlight and how awesome everything is, yadda, yadda…

And this gem:

“One per cent of women surveyed wait until underwear/underpants are visibly dirty before they are washed.”

Say what!?

I can’t even make this shit up. Seriously. It was in the press release.

Visibly dirty.

*Shudder*

It also mentions that 1 out of every 10 of us admit to only washing our bedding once per month.

Guilty. Sometimes.

But after reading this press release, all I could think was: Imagine “they” only surveyed 10 people; that “1 out of 10” and “one percent” could very well then be THE SAME PERSON. Talk about awkward.

Anyway, I failed miserably at posting a review of the detergent; I apologized profusely and sent them a quick message including my thoughts. But I came across the press release again and – seriously: Visibly dirty. That’s just all kinds of wrong.

But I’ll have you know, my freshly washed underpants smell wonderful.

Random Posts

• i said i would stay calm, but i am totally freaking out
• Rejection, Dejection.
• Fueled by Passion

I had resigned myself to being The Fat Friend a long time ago. I have always been the largest of my group of friends. Maybe not always the heaviest, but the one with the broad shoulders and larger build, which always made me feel like I was The Fat Friend. It’s hard not to when all the girls were able to swap clothes with each other and I was the odd one out with no one to swap with.

As far too many others have, I’ve struggled, and continue to struggle, with my body image. No matter how hard I work, I still see that fat girl when I look in the mirror. I don’t know that she’ll ever go away. I don’t know that I want her to; she’s now my motivation. She keeps me moving, pushing to succeed.

After tipping the scales at 200 pounds, there was no question I had to do something. I starting running last spring (along with doing Jillian Michaels’ 30-day Shred) thinking it would be the “easy” and least expensive way to lose weight (which it is until you add in winter running gear and treadmills). In 2010, I covered 395 kilometers (245 miles) since March. Two hundred and forty-five miles. That blows my mind; and still, I don’t feel as though I have earned the right to call myself ‘a runner’.

I don’t know what it is, but I feel like it’s a merit badge I have to earn and it has to be handed down by a runner, otherwise I’m just a poseur wannabe.

A jogger.

Why is that?

To prove it to myself, that I am *gulp* a runner! I’ve signed up for a half marathon on May 1st with Karen. Maybe once I’ve successfully completed over 20-kilometers (13.1 miles), someone will pat me on the back and tell me, it’s okay, freak. You can call yourself a runner now.

Despite my hang-ups over being called a ‘runner’, I have run; and not only have I covered all that ground, I’ve learned to challenge myself again. I’ve pushed myself harder than I have in years, and I can finally, confidently say: it’s paying off.

It’s paying off.

Please excuse my teeth-brushing. I like to multi-task. Also? That twitter shirt? I couldn’t even squeeze into it in March, 2010.

I suck at taking self-portraits. They’re at different distances, but still, the change is noticeable now. When I shared the July pictures, I didn’t see the weight loss everyone else had begun to notice. I was so discouraged but kept plugging away.

I don’t weigh myself because it consumes me. I own a scale, but it doesn’t have a battery otherwise I become this compulsive freak I don’t even know. I simply use how my clothes fit to gauge how well I’ve been doing, and so far I’ve dropped from a size 16, borderline 18, to a size 10 (0r 12 depending on the brand); from an 1X/XL to a L/M – and a cup size , which I am none to pleased about. The last time I weighed myself (using my WiiFit) was in early-December, and at that time I was 27lbs lighter.

Though my main focus appears to be weight loss, it’s more about a lifestyle change. I wasn’t happy, and not just with my weight; I was a bystander watching life pass by. In many ways, I still am, but now I’m making a concerted effort to improve that.

Random Posts

• brought to you by my BlogHer envy
• Reformed by the Revolution #foodrevolution
• Hope4Anissa #prayersforanissa

It’s really the same old story with me, isn’t it? I say something and seem to never follow through. It’s not for a lack of trying; work has taken on a life of its own. Freelance, web design, as well as my day job have begun to boil over to the point I’ve actually been forced to organize! my life. I began (finally) using my calendar – and syncing my calendar! In fact, I may have even gone overboard and set up five: home, kids, freelance, work, and personal. They’re all synced with my Blackberry, iPhone (I know! I went from two years of whining about not having one and now I have both. Go figure.), and Outlook. Now there’s really no excuse, is there?

Part of this whole organizing my life had made me realize I desperately need an office space at home. We have a spare bedroom which currently holds a beautiful roll-top desk (as well as a dead desktop computer) and a queen size bed for when we have guests (never). It’s still in desperate need of updating, but the room is functional and quiet with a washroom (also in dire need of up updating) just outside the door. When we moved here I had every intention of making this room my home office/guest room. I envisioned it painted in a lilac purple, with white lace curtains and deep mauve bedding. The roll top desk would be clean and tidy with all my stationery (Heh.) and computer stuff organized, and maybe even labeled. Eventually it will happen (or at least some semblance of what I want to happen), but for now, my office is my dining room table.

Which is really an improvement from the recliner I was sitting on, for the past year and a half, in my 70′s throwback family room. If you think I’m kidding when I say throwback, then you didn’t see this room. Unfortunately, my peaceful, tidy home office will have to wait just a little longer while we tackled the family room. It’s really the most used room in our home and also the one which needs the most work. It’s dark, dingy, and smelly. No one likes smelly.

The awesomeness that is the stale, musty wood-flanked room really isn’t captured in that real estate photo. What that photo isn’t showing you is the 30 years of dust and unmentionables captured behind the wooden wainscotting-like boards. Nor does it emanate The Smell that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

Finally (in January) we decided it was time to rid our house of this tired, no good, room. Our intention was to remove the boards and scrape the white-painted plaster from the walls in an effort to save money and keep the drywall. It sounded promising at the beginning, but we all know ideas like that are usually too good to be true, no?

Real wood paneling.

No, I didn’t mess up the photo that’s really the shade of the wood above the door.

The shelves where of the same wood as the walls. We’ve kept it stacked in the garage since we’re unsure what to do with it at this point. Some of the pieces could be planed down and reused to create a coffee table for the space later, but others are just too badly worn and dry to do anything with. Some of the shelves were so brittle, they were basically saw dust held in place with humongous spikes.

(The quality of the photo isn’t exceptional, but it gives you an idea of the NAILS! For the record: this particular shot, there are NINE nails holding in one 3/4-inch board ON ONE SIDE.)

You can see in the bottom left of the photo where the drywall had stopped. In fact, even on the far right, where the black paper stops? That’s where the insulation stops too. Nice, eh?

The walls have been protected with the vapour barrier on the outside against the concrete foundation with a paper-backed insulation. This, my friends, means that in order to update this room to what is now industry standard, we would have to remove everything – EVERYTHING – right down to the bare concrete and then reframe and re-insulate the entire room.

I am stuck between wanting to do it properly and OMG it’s going to cost me WHAT?. The insulation is in good condition with no signs of moisture or mould so we we’re currently leaning towards keeping it but I keep waffling back and forth.

The beams on the ceiling are solid wood. Worn and dated, but solid. They will be replaced with new faux beams and these ones will likely be refurbished for something else in this room or another.

Notice on the right side of the beam there’s a copper pipe?

The original wood burning fireplace was converted by a previous owner a number of years ago, and instead of removing the ceiling and routing the natural gas line properly, it’s been supported just outside the faux architectural beam.

At least it’s clearly labeled?

Where we are right now? Well, after pulling all the electrical work out, it became apparent a previous owner had doubled up a lot of the breakers and we were in desperate need of a new panel. We’ve since installed a new electrical panel complete with additional breakers for future work (like a kitchen).

We’re currently at a stand still as our contractor, who was to help Mike, is now MIA. I suspect he realized he had his work cut out for him and bolted before he was in too deep. We now have another guy coming this weekend who has done work for us in the past. Hopefully he doesn’t run from the house like his hair has caught fire…

~

Here’s what we’ve done with the kitchen (Part 1 and Part 2) and the kids’ rooms, if you’re interested.

Random Posts

• Spreading The Love*
• Familiarity of Family
• Beta Much?

I’m a coffee fan. Big Time.

I typically have a large mug when I get up, an extra large Tim Hortons’ on the way to work and a mid-morning Tim’s. Some evenings I like to have lattes and cappuccinos.

But this isn’t about me, or my love for coffee, it’s about YOU and YOUR love of coffee.

Because I have a Tassimo T20 single-cup coffee machine for YOU.

The Tassimo machine is so simple to use that I’ve forsaken my traditional perk coffee for a much faster, and just as delicious, morning brew using their patented T disc technology.

Just pop the disc into the front of the machine for a store-quality brew in just minutes. For someone who habitually forgets to set the timer the night before, this has been a Godsend, people. Godsend.

The discs are bar-coded so the machine knows exactly what temperature, pressure and time is required for the perfect brew.

There’s no mess, no forgetting how many scoops you may have put in, and no leaving behind that remaining last lowly cup-full that sits in the pot as you rush out the door.

Genius, right?

In a matter of milliseconds, the machine is ready with the green light indicating you can brew. There’s nothing sweeter than that little green light at 5am, my friends.

And it’s not just coffee. Hot chocolate, lattes, cappuccinos, espresso – even my favourite Chi-Tea Lattes.

Myself, I prefer the plain ol’ coffee as I’m not big on the milk-like creamers which come with the packages. I’d prefer to be able to steam my own milk, but for making me a quick, tasty cup of coffee or tea, I can’t complain. From well-known brands, like Gevalia, Maxwell House, Twinings and more there’s really more than enough selection for everyone.

:::

I’m not big on reviews and giveaways, but when I was asked to try out the new Tassimo T20 and then give one away to one of my readers (okay, there’s probably one reader left. *waves* Hi Dad! And you can’t even win because you’re Canadian. Isn’t that the pits?) how could I turn down that opportunity?

The only drag is the winner has to be US-based. Sorry, my fellow Canadian winter bunnies. But! for you, I will add $20 via auto-fill to an existing coffee-shop card, or send one of the same value to you in the mail. Fair?

Now, Americus, leave a comment on this post. Any old comment will do. Say hi, tell me which hunk-a-hunk-of-burning-love you would share your Tassimo coffee with, tell me about the snow, whatever.

Giveaway closes on Thursday night at 11:59pm EST.

Tweet this for an additional entry. Make sure to come back and put your link in the comments!

It’s as close to a coffee IV as you’re going to get. Visit @temptingsam to #win a #Tassimo T20 http://bit.ly/hWNJY8

And the business of disclosure: I received the Tassimo brewer free of costs and all opinions are my own.

***

WINNER’S ANNOUNCED!

Congratulations to ginnette4!! She is the winner of the Tassimo T20. Enjoy!

And alimartell has picked herself up a $20 gift card to (one of) her favourite coffee shops! Yay Ali!

• The Ultimate Coffee Giveway! Trust Me.
• I Can Haz Bullet Pointz? Now Wit Linkz 2 Yer Blogz!
• Cure JM

This is a break from a typical post you may read here. For the most part, I like to keep it light, but this is something I have been thinking a lot about. The images contained herein are very hurtful, the group of which I’ve written about have been discussed at length elsewhere and have been in the news a lot over the past few years as soldiers, it seems, have been returning home in caskets far more often.

This extremist church group has been known to protest funerals of fallen soldiers as well as show up at any event which may garner them media attention. Their shock and awe tactics are vile and disgusting, but with bringing them into the spotlight can we be desensitized enough that they will be disregarded? One group of Toronto radio deejays gave them airtime in order to keep them from nine-year-old Christina Taylor Green’s funeral. Is it right? I don’t know. I don’t care. But I do know that this family didn’t deserve any more heartache, especially on a day they laid to rest their little girl.

:::

Christina Taylor Green, just nine years old, was senselessly murdered when a gunman went on a shooting rampage at an Arizona Safeway during an event for U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords.

The Westboro Baptist Church “extremist group”, widely known for their reprehensible behavior towards homosexuality, planned to protest the young girl’s funeral. What could they possibly have to protest about at a funeral for a slain 9-year-old child? Well, this group is infamous for showing up at high profile funerals brandishing insufferably-hateful, heinous, and shockingly-cruel signs such as the ones below:

They consistently show up at funerals for fallen soldiers, celebrities, or any of which they believe will garner them media attention. They preach Gods hate for gays and how He is punishing America for allowing such unions to exist. The Wikipedia page describing the Westboro Baptist Church states:

The group carries out daily picketing in Topeka (purportedly six per day with fifteen on Sunday) and travels nationally to picket the funerals of gay victims of murder, gay-bashing or people who have died from complications relating to AIDS; other events related or peripherally related to gay people; Kansas City Chiefs football games; and live pop concerts. (Wikipedia)

The Westboro Baptist Church members are so blinded by their convictions they have lost all sense of compassion, of reality even.

Shirley Phelps-Roper, the daughter of the “church-founder” Fred Phelps, has been a guest on the local morning radio show at 102.1 The Edge more than once. Dean Blundell, the show’s lead host, has questioned Shirley a few times over the past couple years about the views and agenda of the church – albeit in an antagonizing and mocking way (which makes it only slightly more tolerable to listen to). Dean’s told her he would share the airwaves with her if it meant she’d stay out of Canada, which has apparently worked so far.

Shirley was a guest again, about a week ago, where she continued with her same typical rants about how “this” is God’s revenge on America for its tolerance of homosexuality, etc. and she shared the church’s plan to protest the funeral for Christina in Tuscon, at which time Dean again promised her more airtime in a compromise to keep this church group from protesting.

(There was also emergency legislation passed to prevent this group from being anywhere within 100 metres of the funeral, and though this was a last ditch effort to protect those who were grieving, it wouldn’t have prevented the group from afflicting their hate outside of that 100 metre bubble.)

Once various media outlets caught wind of Blundell’s agreement with Shirley Phelps it basically caused a virtual shitstorm with of over 1,500 news articles addressing Shirley’s gaining airtime in lieu of scrapping Westboro’s latest disgustingly disturbing display of hate. Some other stations even offered Westboro air time on their station to prevent them from showing up.

People spoke out in droves, complaining that it was wrong to provide these “whack jobs” with a venue to spew their garbage. Some were mad, really mad that the radio station would even consider entertaining this hate; that they were perpetuating their “cause” by allowing Shirley on-air.

Christina’s funeral came and went with no intrusion on Westboro’s part. The streets were lined with a number of people there to pay their respects; some even dressed as angels.

In this case, Dean’s efforts to keep Westboro Baptist Church from Chirstina’s funeral may have worked, but do you think mainstream media should be providing outlets, such as radio airtime, to radical groups, like Westboro, if it means protecting others already suffering from the loss of a loved one like nine-year-old Christina?

• Maddie’s Story Hits KTLA
• Beware: I Am a Debbie Downer
• Defection

January 12, 2011 marks the one year anniversary of the devastating earthquake in Haiti. A country, still torn, still in ruins, rises above the their tremendous loss, creating awe-inspiring works of art which, remarkably, even brings a smile to the faces of those affected by the ravaging earthquake. Haitians not only lost their homes, but their way of life has been taken as there is, still, virtually no way for them to earn an income. With this project, Hearts for Haiti, artists have been given an avenue to share their works while earning income for them and their families: aid by way of trade.

The artisan community of Haiti salvages some of most unlikely items and, with their skills and imagination, create stunning works of art. It’s hard to imagine these bright and beautiful  items could have been created in such harsh and inhabitable conditions using such items as: steel drums, wrought iron, stones, and paper mache, but these brilliant men and women are doing just that.

(Port-Au-Prince still very much looks like it did days after the devastation. If you take a look at the images from this article featured in the DailyMail, you’ll see. WARNING: Some images are quite graphic and the content of the article often refers to sexual assault and the dangers Haitians are facing living in horrible conditions.)

By Shopping for a Better World, through Macy’s Hearts of Haiti campaign, you will be helping support some of the Haitians whom have been trying valiantly to get their feet back on the ground; to overcome the exceptional loss and damage done to their country. Without traveling to Haiti – or the Dominican Republic, we very rarely have the chance to enjoy some of their amazing work, or meet the wonderful people who create it.

Heart of Haiti Candle Holder, Fire Bird Hurricane $60.00

I will never forget the markets, along the white sandy beaches, where a number of locals where selling their handmade works of art. The resort we stayed at had a “community event” where the staff and their families were able to come and showcase some of their work on the resort in the evening. The paintings, the jewelry, the beautiful clothing, it was all so vibrant and lively. I have a ring, which I still wear everyday, that  I bought from a wonderful Haitian gentleman who had moved from the country to the Dominican. His make-shift tent was filled with wonderful colourful works of art which stood side-by-side with so many others, just trying to make a living.

If it was hard for them six years ago, I can’t even fathom what it’s like now.

:::

I was selected for this very special “CleverHaiti” opportunity by Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity. All opinions are my own.

• Today
• Cure JM
• Gutted