I Love Her Inner “B”

“There comes a point in your life when you realize who matters, who never did, who won’t anymore, and who always will. So don’t worry about people from your past, there’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.”

I’ve known for months “IT” was coming, however, subconsciously I suppressed my change management defense mechanisms. I respect that people have the right to make free will choices. That doesn’t mean that I have to accept them until I’m forced to. From my state of denial I was impelled to mourn her “Out of Office” message last week which stated “you’ve reached the desk of_____I am now retired.” How DARE you do that to me? Yes I am angry. Pissed off actually! BUT I do admire her BOLD courage to lead by example and live according to her intrinsic guiding principles.

Concurrently we arrived at our organization as Clinical Supervisors, in sync we became Managers, and in concert we progressed to the Director level. We actually were in competition for my position. Tiffany maintains that I got the job because I wore pantyhose to the interview. On that note, "Tiffany, you could have at least shaved your legs." Thank you for the extra pair of pantyhose, I'll wear them to my next interview.

We’re both RNs registered through the CNO and she is my “pick brain.” It didn’t matter to us as professional colleagues which nursing theorist we individually adhered to. It could have been Roy, Benner or Rogers for all we cared. For us it was always about the outcome and the achievement of client care goals. Whenever we did our pulse check, we inevitably got the same rate. We could predict pending aneurisms and identify those that would affect cardiac output. Together we managed wedge pressures, and yes at times they required inotropes. Fortunately we never had to start Levophed YET. Some have alluded that Tiffany occasionally gets into the weeds. In her defense and support... that’s the only way one can eradicate noxious weeds.

Our professional relationship morphed into a wonderful friendship inclusive of mutual respect, admiration and affection. She calls her inner bitch “Tiffany.” I adore Tiffany; she keeps our life perspective real. Often more than not at senior leadership meetings I would spew my directives only to encounter “Tiffany.” Her head cocked to the right with her left eyebrow raised, our eyes would lock and her expression said it all...”You are FUBAR”. I was never offended. I did my job; she took her baton and assumed the risk. We mastered comfortable disagreement and have always celebrated our successes. She always had my back and was the first to warn me of the vipers in my den. Ironically during our vision session last week Tiffany’s missing lens blocked the full release of Kaleidoscope prisms. I already miss my colourful protector, shield and defender.

Over the past 10 years we have shared too many days on the road to try to even count. We count them by children days. Mine from the age of 6 reaching the age of 16 and her's from tweenster times to marriage. We have ventured throughout Ontario as well as episodic visits to Nova Scotia, Alberta, and, Quebec. Tiffany has a bucket list much like mine. We have spent hours comparing travel notes and tick lists. Tiffany’s bucket list is much more defined and purposeful than mine. She always teaches me what I need to learn while discovering the world around and about me.

Last year we attended a conference in Banff. Off the cuff Tiffany booked a private chauffer to take us to Lake Louise. While we “bagged off” from the conference that afternoon, Ginger was willing an “Ethics” consultation on her 2 AWOL peers. Do I regret going? No, except for the mere fact that Ginger didn’t come with us! I loved the hairpin turns through the Canadian Rockies, finally seeing the hoodoos, identifying the image of Moraine Lake on the Canadian $20.00 bill and posing at the CN train station as the Queen Mother did in 1939. As we journeyed we were appalled to discover that during WW1 PM Borden enacted the War Measures Act and was responsible for the internment of Ukrainian Canadians. Funny how no one I have spoken to since had ever learned those facts in history class?? Shame on you Borden for violating the rights of settler immigrants! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castle_Mountain_Internment_Camp Lake Louise is the closest place to heaven on earth. God lives there. Too bad Tiffany fell on her sweet ass on the ice in front of Him. Together we were declared Haligonians, and, Tiffany we should have taken up that offer from the cool dude with the aviator glasses in Quebec City...;-) just sayin’

We are co-beach bums who love to litter the shores of Lake Huron. So what if she serves me “chilled” red wine as she drinks Pomegranate Martinis that taste more like Buckley's Cough Syrup. It’s the BEING THERE with sand between our toes that matters. She fulfilled my belaboured yearning for Skecher ass tauten thongs... Outcome >>> pedal edema. LMAO and it’s not taut yet.

I already know that Tiffany is 1 of the 5 people I will meet in heaven. Because I know her, I’ve been changed for the better and I’ve been changed for good.

In keeping with the email I received from Tiffany the other day... “Please, please come & stay with me to my future.... on the beach or whatever... where the red wine will never again be chilled :) Beyond words... and no goodbyes”

Tiffany I’m in your now and future whether you like that or not. I need you Gal, after all you’re my “pick brain” and the oxy in my hemoglobin...Meet you at the beach eh.

Cheers to Living Life Out Loud With Ya!

MWAH Sista
http://animoto.com/play/AKqR3e8VcxSkr710aW8b8w?utm_content=challenger

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jx3rjS_vSM4

Only a Boy Named David

"And one little stone went in the sling
And the sling went round and round
And one little stone went in the sling
And the sling went round and round
And round and round
And round and round
And round and round and round
And one little prayer went up to God
And the giant came tumbling down."


David is my Mom’s favourite biblical character. She still nurses a marble replica of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti’s “David” that my dad gave her when we lived in Montreal in the early 70’s. I have to make a confession though...growing up with three brothers, especially my younger two, we roughhoused a lot. I, in my competitive attempt to playfully beat up my brothers I had a habit of breaking my mother’s figurines during our sibling debacles. Sly as I was at the time, I’d set the fractured figurine head or violin back on the ornament and wait until the next knock on the furniture by one of my innocent brothers and....bing ...bang...a brother was always nailed for the trauma. My father used his precise skill of crazy gluing them back together. I never confessed my sins to my mom or dad until after I got married, furthermore my brothers have never forgiven me; especially FISH. David was the only figurine I never broke. He’s still intact at home today.

In the fall of 2009 I visited the Academia in Florence. Seeing Michelangelo’s David was one of the highlights of my life. I can recount each rounded step until I laid my eyes upon him. David defines perfection. As I stood there I pondered about what David represented to my mother in particular.

If you refer to 1 Samuel 17 and old Sunday school lessons, you’ll recall the Philistine army had gathered for war against Israel. For forty days they mocked and challenged the Israelites to fight. They had a giant named was Goliath. Saul, the King of Israel, and the whole army were terrified of Goliath. David volunteered to fight Goliath. Dressed in his simple tunic, carrying his shepherd's staff, slingshot and a pouch full of stones, David approached Goliath and said "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied ... today I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds of the air ... and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel ... it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give all of you into our hands." As Goliath moved in for the kill, David reached into his bag and slung one of his stones at Goliath's head. Finding a hole in the armour, the stone sank into the giant's forehead and he fell face down on the ground. David then took Goliath's sword, killed him and then cut off his head. When the Philistines saw that their hero was dead, they turned and ran.

So what does David represent? Courage, he never wavered or cowered in fear, but ran to the battle. He knew what action needed to be taken, in spite of discouraging insults and fearful threats. Only God's opinion mattered to David. Faith, made David look at the giant from a different perspective. Goliath was merely a HUGE mortal man defying an all-powerful God. David looked at the battle from God's point of view. Skill, he was himself and he used his simple slingshot, a weapon he was skilled at using and God worked a miracle through him.

So why am I surprised that every time my mother or our family faced a giant that she walked forward gallantly with courage, skill and faith? Why am I surprised what David meant to her life? This in turn affected all our lives. She is David.

Last week I returned to Florence. I took my daughter to the Academia to see David. Not because the biblical David represents anything to her, but because, as an art major she is obsessed with Michelangelo. She sat on the floor beneath David for over 40 minutes in awe of Michelangelo’s skill and perfection as a sculptor. As I observed her awe and wonder, I regretted for the first time keeping her away from religion and wished instead she could have experienced David’s courage and faith. I also wished my Mom could have seen the real David herself. Even if I took her today, her eyes would fail to see his divine perfection, even though he lives in and through her. She is grace.

Take your skill in faith and use it courageously... and I’ll try not to break anymore of her figurines.

Learn to Be Still

“You just keep on running, keep on running”...Don Henley

It’s a week into 2010 and I haven’t made any resolutions. That isn’t unusual as I never make them. I prefer positive affirmations and to follow my heart and gut. They never fail me. As the New Year slid in, I reflected on 2009. With a labour disruption and accreditation, it was an interesting year of chaos, uncertainty, waiting and finally victory.

The most valuable lesson I learned was that my friends and family made the greatest sacrifice to support me professionally. I am grateful for their undying commitment, faith and tolerance of my frequent physical absence from daily life in the ranks. I learned my friends will share their bubble to banish collective fear and that the only thing to fear is fear itself. Those friends know just when to call and when to hold the flashlight up in the tunnel so I can see “into the shining sun”. Those friends know when to take the wheel and yield when I’m directionally challenged. Those friends are the first to celebrate my successes. Those friends forgive, accept, support, love and challenge me to greater heights.

I was in the East Coast, the West Coast and every nook and cranny of Ontario, went to England, Italy, Croatia, Turkey, Greece, France, Monaco and Spain and in between enjoyed those endless summer nights at Kettle Point. In total I only slept in my own bed approximately 100 nights in 2009. It was a year of self discovery that I will never forget.

So 2010...what will it bring? I can’t watch paint dry or feel grass growing under my feet, but my inner voice tells me I need to “learn to be still”. That’s not easy for me. I will slow down and savour the gifts and people in my life. I will love and accept love freely and with my whole heart. I will accept people unconditionally. I will not tolerate injustice. I will keep my mind and heart open to possibilities. I will lift people up, build bridges and support their pillars when the winds around them blow. I will always be true to myself. I will have the courage to leave behind that what no longer nourishes or enriches my life. I will believe. This or something better now manifests itself for me in totally satisfying and harmonious ways for the highest good of all concerned.

I wish you a happy and productive 2010!
Gotta run now...MWAH

Believe

“Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect." ~ Oren Arnold

It’s that time of year again. The time that forces all of us into the fluster and panic in our search for the perfect Christmas gifts and menus to satisfy all tastes. The older I get, the more I dislike it. Sunday my daughter and I spent the day planning and decorating outside. She had a vision of what we needed to do. She bantered with me about what I needed to buy, what we had to bake and who we had to visit over the next few weeks. She was contagious. I actually absorbed some of her enthusiasm.

Ever since she was young we have tuned into 98.1 CHFI right after the Toronto Santa Parade as they suddenly become “our official Christmas station” with non-stop Christmas music. http://www.chfi.com/

I wasn’t surprised when driving home from the store that she set the station to 98.1 only to hear Josh Groban singing “Believe”. I love that song. It has special memories of us going to the IMAX to watch “Polar Express” in 3D after my sister-in-law’s mom’s funeral. You might think that seems like a strange thing to do after a funeral, but it was my daughter’s first experience with loss, and she adored Maria. There was something magical about hearing the bells and rediscovering belief through that movie. So she and I sang along to “Believe” as loud as we could. I actually felt a bit of Christmas as we pulled into the driveway.

Ironically the following day, she had an anaphylactic reaction to peanuts which she is allergic to. Her school Vice Principles took charge of the situation and administered her Epipen and activated EMS. Suddenly Christmas presents and food don’t matter. Humanity and goodwill and doing the right thing matter. This Christmas I am grateful for her as she is the greatest gift I have ever been blessed with. I am grateful to Mr. Morgan and Mr. DeBoer and the EMS staff. People like that make you “Believe” whether you want to or not.

Merry Christmas!

Patients or Standards?

“I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye” ~ Gandalf, The Grey

My daughter “HD” is known to her friends as ‘hildow’ or to me as my ‘Hobbit Diva’. She always has a way of bringing things home for me. She has challenged my career decisions ever since I left the ICU bedside. To her what I do ‘now’ is nebulous and meaningless. For her saving real lives is what matters. I can recount the many times she has asked me if “indirectly helping people with activities of daily living is as significant as direct intervention/life saving measures? “ I can’t answer that question. My passion has and always will be direct intervention; however, keeping people safe at home abates the inevitable direct interventions.

Yesterday while chauffeuring HD to one of her many activities, she asked one of her profoundly dreaded questions; “What are you most passionate about, people or standards?” I didn’t answer her; I had to think about that for awhile.

The College of Nurses of Ontario (CNO) assists nurses in providing safe, effective and ethical care by developing and setting standards for the profession. Those regulated Standards of Practice legislated through the Nursing Act 1991 http://www.e-laws.gov.on.ca/html/statutes/english/elaws_statutes_91n32_e.htm and the RHPA 1991 http://www.e-laws.gov.on.ca/html/statutes/english/elaws_statutes_91r18_e.htm have guided my professional life. I have always practised safe effective ethical care according to the CNO practice standards and guidelines and applicable legislations. So HD even while I was in direct care delivery I practiced according to standards.

On the other hand Accreditation Canada's sector and service-based standards help organizations assess quality at the point of service delivery. They are based upon five key elements of service excellence: clinical leadership, people, process, information, and performance. While my current work focuses on these serviced-based standards, my patient outcome goals remain steadfast...SAFE, EFFECTIVE and ETHICAL care.

So HD, patients or standards? Without standards, safe patient care is inexistent. "Would I rather enforce compliance to standards or feel the pulse of a patient?" I think you know my answer. I’d rather nurture my patient but for now I’m doing that by ensuring that standards are adhered to and patient care outcomes are met. Believe it or not, it’s another way of saving lives. It will never replace the feel of a pulse, breath or smile. Thanks for reminding me why I do what I do.

So Long Kiefer (1962-2009)

“No one ever dies unless they are forgotten.”...Ojibwa legend

I learned years ago that in Ojibwa there is no word for “goodbye”. I think that very premise is what drew my fascination towards Ojibwa culture, history and rituals in the first place. Six weeks ago our beloved Kiefer went to meet his “Maker”. Cancer kicked him down too young and left the rest of us wondering why...

As rituals go, surrounded by friends and family, I paid my respect to him that weekend. Kief and my husband were best friends for over 40 years; I had the privilege to share in that friendship for the past 20 years. Unfortunately I’ve been in a phrenic work state of mind these past few months and failed to pause long enough to honour a friendship that selflessly taught and nurtured us.

Kief’s birthday was this week; he wasn’t here to celebrate it. Kief was known as our noble “Kraut”. Tomorrow marks the start of Oktoberfest and Thanksgiving weekend, Kitchener Civic Square will be bustling with pomp and ceremony, music and dancing. As the fanfare of trumpeters sound off the official opening of the 41st annual Kitchener-Waterloo Oktoberfest, and the mayor taps the keg and says “Willkommen to Oktoberfest”...I promise Kiefer that I won’t say “now go home”.

Our memories of you are precious and hidden deep in our hearts. We miss you. Happy Birthday! As we give thanks this weekend, we will remember everything you have given and shared in our lives.

As the Irish blessing goes, “May God hold you in the hallow of his hand until we meet again”. Love you always and forever...meet you on the rainbow bridge and we’ll do the chicken dance...

"And here I am - knocking at your door with expectations of my own.
Knock
Knock
Knock"...Ojibwa legend

Cheers ;-)

“In Queue” Etiquette a la Madeline

"In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines
Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines
They smile at the good, and frown at the bad
and sometimes they are Very sad
In 12 straight Lines they break their bread
Brush their teeth and go to bed.
They leave the house at half past nine, in two straight lines.
The smallest one is MADELINE!”... Ludwig Bemelmans

I have a pet peeve that has been driving me nuts and into a “Rick Mercer” rant for years. My rant is all about queuing etiquette. “Queue “means to form a line, and to wait for services.

When I was young my mother read me the “Madeline” book series; when I was able, I read them myself; I read them to my daughter; when she was able, she read them herself. Not surprisingly, the key lessons for me all had to do with structure and formation especially when “something is not quite right “such as forming proper line-ups.

I learned early on through Miss Clavel and my kindergarten teacher how and why line-ups/queues are formed. The rules are as follows:

1. Get in line
2. No jumping, butting, budging, skipping, ditching, breaking, shorting, or pushing in at any position other than the end of the line.
3. Sometimes you can "back cut" – if you have permission to enter behind the person who was asked. This is only considered fair if each person behind the one being "cut" allows it.
4. You can “cut in line” if someone is saving your place in line and you are both conducting one transaction.
5. You can leave the queue to use the bathroom and then return to your original place without having to ask permission.
6. You must respectfully allow pregnant women, adults accompanying small children, and the physically disabled to be serviced prior to everyone else.

These are fair rules that have served me well since my early “Madeline” days. However, something changed in the 90’s. I have not been able to ascertain if these changes are reflective of the dot com era or the Ritalin Generation. I can only state that I don’t like the change.

When I started my working life at McDonalds, I worked the “window”, which was teller. This was long before the drive-thru days. Patrons came into the restaurant, got in line and placed their orders. When I was going through Nursing I worked at Eaton’s...same thing, customers got in line at a cash register and waited to be served. This linear queue sequence is dependent on the structure of 2 or more cashiers. This linear queue sequence provides equal opportunity to all as well as fairness to the customers due to a slow cashier and/or customer clog. Then...the dot com and/or Ritalin Generation went parallel which lead to the cattle herding lines and merges waiting for the call out of “can I help the next customer”. This is the sequence that drives me nuts. I only accept the linear queue sequence as it supports semblance of societal order.

Recently I followed suit and lined up behind a patron who was in linear queue formation at the LCBO, when a clueless gentleman walked by and somehow managed to time his arrival at the exact moment the cashier at asked “May I help whose next.” Of course, he’s somehow next by the magic of the Gods at power (parallel line up). Normally I would say something and make sure that I was indeed next, but I figured that’s ok I’ll be nice today. He was abiding by the parallel line up theory. Patiently I waited for another cashier to say the magic words; unfortunately two university students walked by and somehow swooped in at the sound of those magic words by an unsuspecting cashier. This is when I decided civil justice must prevail. From my sentry I announced that indeed they were not next, and that I was. I continued to explain the linear queue sequence theory and mentioned that by listening in school they would have known such earth shattering mathematical concepts. Of course as expected they looked at me like I was from some other planet. Needless to say, I got my Little Penguin before the stupid university students got their beer.

Unless you see a “please form line here” sign or a cattle herder barricade, just pick a line and get it in. No jumping, butting, budging, skipping, ditching, breaking, shorting, or pushing in at any position other than the end of the line.

So Madeline, let’s form the world in two straight lines. One line with an appendix and one line without. Somehow that would be quite right. Muuah girl…and Maddie if we fail...We’ll call Rick Mercer to rant for us.

Peace Dudes

“I do not want the peace which passeth understanding, I want the understanding which bringeth peace.”...Helen Keller

What is peace? “Peace” conjures different images for people. It can mean the absence of hostility, healed relationships, social justice, economic equality, but by and large it is the sense of safety we all seek in our lives. I prefer to think of peace as “Shalom” as its meaning includes safety, welfare, prosperity, security, fortune and friendliness.

Shalom is more personalized as it describes relationships between people characterized by respect, justice and goodwill. For me “Shalom” also conjures the image of the safety of home. For the past month I’ve been travelling throughout Ontario preparing locations for our accreditation survey next week. I also lost a friend last weekend to cancer. It’s been a long journey. When I got home Friday night I was pooched.

Saturday was a family day to celebrate my nephew Adam’s 2nd birthday. My “Shalom” happened on the back deck...Duke, Fish and I just chatting. We weren’t chatting about anything of importance. We were just enjoying each other, referencing what to eat in Venice, where to go in Ephesus, and what life expectations lay ahead for each of us. It was a safe place, unconditional and filled with goodness. I was home, safe and sound where I belong.

I was reminded of our conquered battles and how together we can do anything. Duke and Fish have been my rocks and my pillars and have never failed me. I wouldn't be where I am today without them. It’s always been “all for one and one for all” and it felt good to be home. Thank you Duke and Fish for always being there...I’m always by your side. We’ve got mountains to climb; unfortunately for you my competitive side prevails...I’ll beat you both to the summit eh! Mwah xoxo

My Deet

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." - Anais Nin

When I travel for work I tend to recollect significant memories that take me to the places that I call “home”. This week I travelled 2500 km conducting pre-accreditation survey prep visits. Each town I rolled through generated old memories. As I passed the US border near Gananoque ON I recounted the memories of vacation days in the Eastern States with my friend Deet in her “baby poop” coloured Benz singing along to John Denver songs.

Our friendship adventure began while working in the Intensive Care Unit at Grand River Hospital in 1987. We had our “rounds”, loved to shop, do lunch and just talk about life and all therein. We vacationed together. Our favourite place was Boston Massive-two-tits... I can still remember “Perry’s Motel”, the flea bag hole in New Hampshire. We registered and discovered bed bugs and left. As we drove away Perry waved. I can still hear Deet saying “Perry is waving and thinking...they’ll be back”. Sure enough we couldn’t find alternate lodging and “we went back”.

Later we worked together at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto. We both lived on Elm Street, she on the 3rd floor and myself on the 5th. That complex was a nightmare of sorts. We had adventures at the Eaton’s Lancôme make up bar as it was critical that we purchased what was required to look like Isabella Rossellini. Dinners at Bemelmans, movies in Yorkville, hair products from the Toronto Barber Shop, too many bra purchases, hairstyle upon hairstyle and many late nights talking over wine and Cheesies joined us at the hip.

Divorce, marriage/remarriage, births, death of parents and a spouse and “we’re still standing”. Cheesecake bakeoffs and late night Soirees are forefront in my mind. Deet holds the record for the best leg of lamb. Our cheesecakes are tied; however, she taught me how to bake them so she takes the cake there too.

Well today is Deet’s birthday. I can still remember when she turned 30...but who’s counting? I’m happy she has found love again and will be remarrying this September, most of all I’m grateful for our many years of friendship.

Just a few quotes for Deet that only she and I can appreciate...

“What do you mean my kidneys don’t work?” ....ICU Pt.

“I’m hungrier than hell” ....Karen C

“Those shorts and white Cotton Ginny T can stand in the corner on their own” ...Moi

Happy Birthday Deet! Love Ya Pouge xoxo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8hd5M9Z73g&feature=related

Dear Dad

“Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.”.... Gloria Naylor

When I got married my father gave me away, officiated and read his letter to me entitled “To My Daughter on Her Wedding Day” I’m not going to share that letter here. It’s reserved for those who attended and is very close to my heart.

Father’s Day is the hardest day of the year for me. My father was my hero and best friend. I decided after 18 years it was my turn to write a letter back to him:

Dear Dad,

You always lead by example. You taught me strength, perseverance, and tolerance. I can recall the day I had to go to that evil dentist in Montreal...you were going to deck him. I still hate dentists. I had a passion for “cut out dolls and clothes”. Every time I bumped my head or fell, you would bring a cut out kit home for me. In particular I recall the time I fell down the steps at our house on Chemin de Chambly. I bumped my head so bad....You brought me the biggest and best cut out doll and clothes ever.

We moved to Perth after that. I can still see the green bike with the metallic banana seat that you bought me. I remember when you took off the training wheels and I freely sailed down Clyde Street. I can still hear your speech after I told B. Hewitt to “F-Off “...Not sure who taught me that phrase either...lol but it felt good to spit it out. When Auntie Georgette went back to France, I was devastated. You held me and reassured me that I would see her again. I haven’t yet, but she’s back in Canada and I will see her again soon.

I loved our fishing trips. I can hook any worm. I still refuse to fillet the fish. You always accepted my friends as family. I love you for that. You never accepted my boyfriends... For the record my first love was “Rick” not Ralph and the other was Wayne not “Wolf-fang”. I know you always loved and accepted Steve and we have survived 18 years.

I can recall when my first patient died. I was a wreck. Yet you drove me out to Memory Gardens to say "good bye". Ironically you rest only a few yards from her now. The best memory of all was my birthday in 1983. I was doing my medical unit placement on the med/surg unit at St. Mary’s Hospital. Sister Theresa paged me; she had an oatmeal/choc chip muffin from Norris’ Bakery, with a white candle in it. I looked at her and said “how do you know it’s my birthday”...She replied “It’s from your Dad”. That was the best gift I ever received.

I could go on and no...You should see your grandkids. While you’re with Belle in heaven, you need to know that Caitlin, Erinn, Hilary, James, and Adam are amazing. You would bust with pride to know them.

Be proud...your kids are a cool and your grandkids rock!

Happy Father’s Day Golden Eagle...

Love always and forever,

Falling Rock
xoxox

My van Gogh Girl

“You can't be at the pole and the equator at the same time. You must choose your own line, as I hope to do, and it will probably be color.” Vincent van Gogh

I remember 2 years ago when my daughter indicated that she wanted to apply to The Integrated Arts Program at Eastwood C.I. I emphatically said “no”. I didn’t relish the idea of her travelling across 2 cities for school. Reluctantly I agreed to attend the information night with the intention of making an “informed no” decision. As it went I was awestruck by the incredible talent of the art students and the dedication and passion of the teachers. As I observed Hilary, I was intrigued by how she was inhaling their enthusiasm and by her desire to “find her art”. I knew that night, that she belonged there. She applied, auditioned, was accepted and started the program last fall.

Something about “finding her art”, has given her wings to soar. She has had her poetry published, won English awards, been “Rebel of the week” 5 times and she can’t stop herself. Last week she was awarded the best “Overall Visual Artist Award" for the entire Arts Program grades 9-12. That is impressive when you’re just a shiner niner. While she is confident and determined, she is humble and often I learn about her achievements after the fact and in passing like the time when my sister-in-law emailed to inform me that Hilary’s art and poetry had been published.

That happened again yesterday. Hilary indicated that she had to attend the opening of the GEEE! In Genomes Art Exhibit at the Waterloo Regional Children’s Museum. Fifty-four Eastwood artists created 58 works which are currently on display alongside the Natural History Museums interactive displays based on the concept of Genome which runs until September. She hadn’t bothered to tell us that she was chosen as the Student Art Director or that her “Genome Teapot” is on exhibit. Furthermore she had to give an opening address. As her teacher introduced Hilary to the crowd she stated that Hilary is the most passionate art student she has taught in her 20 years of teaching. Usually when she performs, my mother instinct comes out and I feel that umbilical pain of watching her, knowing that with each performance there is a certain level of anxiety. I didn’t feel that anxiety yesterday. As she started her speech, it flowed, perfectly crafted and delivered. She was outstanding. It was my proudest moment.

Talk about Genomes...While she is a perfectionist and driven like me, she did not get her art talent from me. She got her talent from my dad, who she never knew. Yesterday as she delivered her speech like a perfect 3-point sermon I saw him living in her. It’s all in the DNA. Keep colouring the world girl!

Out of the Mouth of Babes

“When you least expect it, expect it.”...RC

I’ve been fighting purple dragons for over a month. So needless to say this 4-day Easter weekend was a welcome relief for me to be able to sit back and rejuvenate with friends and family. I wasn’t expecting to find the strength I needed from my little nephew. But there he was ready and able to lead me where I needed to go.

On Good Friday he and I sat at his kitchen island creatively exploring his new activity book. We found the missing objects in pictures, connected the dots, and navigated through the labyrinth to discover Easter eggs. He told me what he thought was “ridiculous” and what was not to be “discussed right now”.

Suddenly he said “let’s play outside”. He donned his coat and off we went under the full moon to Camelot. He became “Sir James Lancelot” and I “The Lady Jacqui of Shalott”. Grabbing a garden shovel, he told me to "stand back”...he had to slay dragons and evil to protect me. So together through his courtyard we transcended into a land of make believe, laughed and enjoyed the simple connection of two souls having fun together.

Finally, feeling cold I said I had to go inside and get ready to go home. He resisted that suggestion. I resorted to telling him my dog Rupert was waiting at my home and needed to pee. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “No he doesn’t, Rupert is sleeping right now.” Once inside he appeared with a stuffed dog, ran to the corner of the room and yelled, “Rupert just peed and pooped, you can stay longer now”

When the time came to leave, Sir James Lancelot came up to me and said, “You can’t go, Rupert is in the kitchen and he wants you, not me, you have to stay for him.” I didn’t want to leave either. Together we slayed the dragons that were wearing me down. More than that he gave me the piss and vinegar I need to keep slaying purple dragons.

Thanks Sir James Lancelot...you are my Easter and the apple of my eye. I love you buddy.

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger... Psalms 8:2.........whoever would have “thunk” it eh...

My Easter Hope for Kiefer

Easter is my favourite time of year. A time for hope and renewal as we celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

I’ve written about Kiefer before. http://q-tipps.blogspot.com/2008/09/kiefer-rockford-and-sutherland.html He was diagnosed with a glioblastoma at Christmas 2006 with a recurrence at Christmas 2007. In September 2008 he was told to get his house in order.

Since that time Kiefer has been fighting the good fight. While Canadian physicians had nothing more to offer, Kiefer opted for alternative therapy treatments in Berlin. The tumour has marginally reduced in size and he continues to experience headaches and suffers from spatial memory and hand-eye coordination impairments. Kiefer will be returning to Berlin for his last treatment shortly.

Today Kiefer and Rockford celebrated the return of Tiger to their golf world, betting on Tiger’s outcome at the Masters this Easter weekend. I overheard Rockford, commending Kiefer for being a brave soldier and acknowledging him for his inspiration, courage, perseverance and faith. The Ya-Ya Brotherhood, always the best of friends.

While watching the Masters this Easter weekend we will be gathered with friends and family and believing for Kiefer’s miracle. Kiefer, you lead by example. God’s not finished with you yet. Thank you for being a friend. We believe Kief and you are loved! Happy Easter buddy...

Proper English?

“Two nations separated by a common language”

Unlike my brother Fish I am not a Monarchist but could become one. However, being British I can’t NOT fall in love with England. We journeyed to London for March Break. It was the most action packed vacation week of my life. I fell in love with London but most of all enjoyed our family time together. Well except for the 5th art gallery...

This time for some reason I was particularly intrigued by how the British use the English language. I recognize that North American and British English have a common root back to the days of our Pilgrim Fathers. But I take exception when the Brits make accusations of some words and grammar being Americanisms, when in fact they're far from it so I’m highlighting some Briticisms which amused me immensely.

British English/ North American English

· Toilets/Washrooms
· Tube/Subway
· Lift/Elevator
· At the weekend/on the weekend
· Fag/smoke
· To Let/For Rent
· Rail/Train
· Platform/Station

London has worst coffee in the world coupled with the fact that they don’t have 10% coffee cream. The soil is fertile there for Tim Horton’s...So I gave up the coffee and resorted to bottled water which contained “proper“fruit. As opposed to improper fruit? I discovered “proper” fruit meant from real fruit not artificial flavours. We had dinner at The “Proper” Burger which meant 100% beef burgers. So very proper indeed, real and authentic products. And they were good!

As my daughter will attest, British men are beautiful. They know how to dress. Maybe a little too metro sexual but very nice eye candy. Who doesn’t like a man with a British accent anyway? They could teach Canadian men a few things about ditching the golf shirts and the chinos and getting a real haircut.

While we toured history I have to acknowledge that the Tower of London, Windsor Castle and St. Paul’s Cathedral were my favourite places. I honoured Florence Nightingale in St. Paul’s Crypt. She is only one of three women buried there. That tells you she wasn’t “just a nurse”. So wash your hands. I am in awe of Sir Christopher Wrens’ St, Paul’s masterpiece.

I walked the poets’ corner at the Westminster Abby when suddenly Austin, Carroll, Lewis, Shakespeare and Blake came to life. I witnessed Diana’s gowns and hailed our King Billy at Kensington Palace...long live Ulster. I observed the crown jewels and honoured the faith of our fathers at St George’s Chapel.

Only Fish knows what I sound like when I say this but... “God Save the Queen”. London Rocks!

The Parable of the Miu Miu Bag

“We need more, don't we? Oh. This is- This might be- What do you think of...” Miranda Priestly (The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Growing up my mother only bought and owned leather shoes and purses. They all matched. Every time I visit her, my purse is the first thing she notices. Her first question is always “Is that leather?” Never convinced by my answer she grabs the bag and does her infamous leather sniff test. I learned at a young age... if you’re going to be a fashion diva you better wear, sport or carry leather. Forget the animal rights activists’ cuz Jug’s opinion rules.

Hence the day last year when I paid my mother a visit. The minute I stood in her landing I could smell the leather. Yes I had become my mother for 5 minutes in time. I walked into the living room where family were gathered enjoying themselves. Abruptly I asked “who has new leather?” Sheepishly my sister-in-law Antoinette looked up. She didn’t need to say another word. I saw it on the floor beside her feet...the most beautiful mink coloured Miu Miu bag. The Miu Miu purse is the Prada “hipster” couture line and Antoinette is our hipster. I sauntered over to feel the lambskin and unconsciously performed my mother’s leather sniff test. That bag was the sweetest smell and softest touch I had ever experienced. My green eyed monster reared itself as I coveted having one of my own. Antoinette had bought it at Harrods in London that week...I couldn’t get there fast enough.

I needed one so badly... for the leather of course. So for Christmas 2007 I purchased a black Miu Miu bag on-line for myself, all the while thinking “Steve is going to kill me.” The bag arrived in its dust cover and certificate of authenticity enclosed. It is beautiful and the smell and feel are to die for. When Steve discovered my purchase he gave me that look of his, the one that could kill and no I won’t tell you what I paid for it. His statement cut to the bone, “So tell me, how you are going to sport that and explain it when you work for a not-for-profit?” So I was extravagant, but he didn’t need to rain on my parade or did he? I tucked it away in my closest waiting for the right inconspicuous occasion to sport my Miu Miu bag. I have never found the nerve to carry the bag yet.

Fast forward 6 months. On one beautiful June day I was preoccupied writing a report for work. I recall Hilary coming into my office and asking me something. I wasn’t listening, but I nodded yes and off she went. At supper time she called to be picked up from her friend’s house. As I drove around the cul de sac, I was taken aback by the creative art the girls had drawn on the cement and driveway. Hilary clambered into the car covered in charcoal and chalk. She looked like "Pig Pen". I drove around the bend when suddenly something on the floor caught my eye. The black Miu Miu bag! I turned and glared at her. She immediately rebutted “but I asked you, you said yes”. I had no words. I was boiling as I asked her to open the satchel. There before my eyes the lining was chalk and charcoal covered. It was no longer my virgin bag.

I don’t anger easily but when I do I boil. I turn into Mount Vesuvius and I’m always left to clean up the carnage. As I walked through our front door, I lost it. I said things I will never repeat. Things I should never have said to the very person that I love the most in this whole world. I tore upstairs and fell asleep. I awoke at midnight to find a handwritten note on my bedside table. It read like this “I’m sorry, I am a horrible person, and here is $20.00 to buy a new bag”. 20 bucks...that’s all she had, it was worth more to me than the damn bag. I learned that the “Devil does own Prada” that night.

We are going to England for March Break. I’m taking my Miu Miu bag with me. I am going to use it when I go shopping at Harrods as that would be the most inconspicuous place to sport a Miu Miu. When I finish shopping I’m giving the bag to Hilary. She deserves it, I don’t. After all it’s just a bag and she is priceless.

My Life and Times with Annie (1940-2005)

“You must be present for every Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthday, school play, clarinet recital, and soccer game in our kids' lives. I want you to love them, and spoil them and teach them things that Kevin and I can't. Like how to throw a right hook for example. I want you there, Viola. I do, up front and center. From this point I will not negotiate.” ....Charlotte Canitilini (Monster-in-Law, 2005)

Annie is my mother-in-law. She died 4 years ago today. We had an interesting relationship. From the outset she and I engaged in covert antagonism. In her mind I stole her only son; I was “the other woman” and she was resolute to claim him for herself. Ironically I was as stubborn, tenacious, and perseverant and determined as she was. Our battle began before I even said “I do” and I was driven to win over her.

Let the games begin...I moved from Toronto to K-W and her first words that day were “that coffee table would look better covered with Mac Tac”. As my wedding approached she was insistent that we display her felt bride and groom mice at the church and that the event should be videotaped. I emphatically said “NO”. She won...as I went down the aisle I saw them perched on the organ and my brother-in-law videotaping as I fumed fire flares through my nares. Add the organist I never knew about or wanted. Silly eh? She abidingly defied me.

That sets the stage of our perpetual dance. We took turns in the lead and chalked our individual wins. She was thrifty. So much so I’d have to bite my tongue when she’d come with her garage sale finds wrapped in the comic section of the newspaper. There were Care Bears, Alf, dish towels and Kleenex boxes that matched my granite counters. She learned I collected Santas and she gave me Santas until they were coming out my ears. She never ceased to amaze me with her excitement as I tried to conceal my disdain.

I scorned her preference for all her other grandkids over my own child, even though I am cognizant of the fact that I was the one who drew the line in the sand to survive as a family. It’s true. I made the decision to restrict interactions to major holidays and birthdays. When all is said in done I know she loved my child the same as the others.

In 1996 she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. Our relationship underwent a complete metamorphosis. The local oncologists did not offer Annie much hope for treatment or outcomes. I exercised my contacts at Sinai and connected her with the best oncologist. Our battle for control shifted to a battle for her life. I still remember my moment of performance anxiety. She was at the clinic; the oncology nurse could not find a vein to start her IV. My determined Annie demanded that the nurse call up to the ICU and have her daughter-in-law come down to start her IV. Obediently I arrived and wished the “rapture” would happen, I knew if I missed I would never hear the end of it. I applied the tourniquet, ordered her to pump her fist several times, all the while watching her cephalic vein swell, ready for the taking. I nailed it, but then again I could start an IV on a dead dog. She fought cancer like a boxer. She had more guts than glory, unfailing in her perseverance to kick cancer in the bloody face. We learned to respect each other through those years.

The revelation of my relationship with Annie was cemented when my hubby had his accident in 2001 which resulted in a “Triple Triad "of his elbow, the unstable dislocation of his radius, ulna and humerus. Four different hospitals, nine unsuccessful conscious closed reductions and three open reduction surgeries over six weeks were hard on all of us. Final surgery...last hope...St. Mike’s Hospital with the infamous Dr. Michael McKee. I had worked with Mike when he was a resident at Mt. Sinai and he said he could save his arm. He was our last hope. Without his intervention Steve was going to lose the complete use of his left arm.

As luck would have it Steve was scheduled for surgery on 9/11. He was docked in pre-admit waiting to be called into surgery when the twin towers were hit in New York. You could feel the vacuum effect hit Toronto. I sat, stewed and sat and stewed. The hospital administrator announced that all surgeries were being cancelled as they were anticipating victims from New York. I was sick; I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach, when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, it was Annie. We stared at each other. I looked into her fierce determined eyes; she was almost daring me to absorb her conviction through osmosis. We didn’t say a word; we just wanted this trauma over, hoping for no disability, hoping against hope. Mike appeared out of nowhere. I remember his exact words...”I’m declaring life and limb, going in with Steve now”. Deep sighs, no words, Annie and I sat there watching the twin towers being hit on CNN over and over again. Finally she ordered, “Time for a walk.” We headed out to Shuter Street with no destination in mind. On the corner was a vagrant carving an angel out of soap. She bought it and handed it to me. She was my angel that day.

I learned it was not our differences but similarities that challenged us. Both nurses, confident, determined, perfectionists, controlling and wanting the best for those who matter to us. While I will always resent those early years, I cherish the friendship we built and the respect we earned for each other. I lost my groove when Annie died. I needed that sparring partner to fight for what mattered. All that being said Annie changed me for good and who would have ever thought that...I miss you Annie; your friendship left a handprint on my heart and I have finally learned to negotiate.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wf75zUJdnus

Behind the Name

“To live in mankind is far more than to live in a name.”...Vachel Lindsay

I’ve been on a road of self- discovery since my birthday last fall. I’m recalculating where I want to land and how I want my life story to finish at the end. I decided to start at the beginning, thinking the end view from the starting point might make my path clearer. The beginning didn’t start the day I came into existence. It began with significant people who transferred and embedded their values, morals and convictions onto the next generation and so on and so on.

My beginning takes me back to my Great Granny Buick, born as Eleanor but known as “Nellie”. I was named after her. I’ve hated my middle name my entire life. I can recall her gnarled hands and quiet presence. She was the Matriarch of the Buick family. More than that she raised my dad and my aunt when my grandfather James went to serve in WWII. She was either feared or revered by all who knew her. Nellie was a God fearing woman. My dad always said when Granny Buick prayed God listened. I inherited her bible when she died and it is tucked away in my ‘hopeless chest’ among my souvenirs.

Rather than recounting the endless stories and memories about her I went on a search to learn something new about this magnificent woman. What I discovered about her in my quest was unexpected, unassuming and historical.

It all boils down to Ulster Day 1912. Successive Westminster governments had being trying to settle the “Irish question” by giving Ireland a limited measure of local autonomy known as 'Home Rule'. The first two Home Rule Bills, in 1886 and 1893, had been rejected by Parliament, following concerted pressure from Unionists in Great Britain and Ireland.

In April 1912 the Third Home Rule Bill was introduced, in which the authority of the United Kingdom Government "over all persons, matters and things in Ireland" was clearly acknowledged. On the eve of the introduction of the bill a mass demonstration was held in Belfast.

On 23 September 1912 the Ulster Unionist Council passed a resolution pledging itself to the Ulster Covenant. Circulars were distributed to local Ulster Day Committees which arranged for Unionists to have the opportunity to sign the Covenant in their own districts. The Ulster Covenant was signed by just under half a million of men and women from Ulster on and before September 28, 1912. The Covenant had two basic parts: the Covenant itself, which was signed by men, and the Declaration, which was signed by women. In total, the Covenant was signed by 237,368 men, and the Declaration by 234,046 women. The Ulster Covenant is immortalized in Rudyard Kipling’s poem “Ulster 1912”. http://www.scotchirish.net/forum/index.php?showtopic=493

Back at Westminster, Unionists put up fierce opposition to each stage of the Home Rule Bill, and the third reading was not carried until January 1913, after which the Bill received its expected defeat in the House of Lords. The outbreak of World War I then halted further progress. Today Ulster remains.

So what does this have to do with Nellie? In the age before woman could vote or work outside the home Nellie stood by her convictions, her husband and Ulster and was one of the 234,046 women who signed the Declaration for Ulster. Her signature is the last one in the picture. Her address the same as the home she raised my father in.

Shortly after this historical event her husband Samuel, my great grandfather was enlisted into World War I. Nellie was one of the first women in Belfast to vote in 1917. She could never be classified as being a ‘libber or feminist’. She lived passionately and did what she had to do; determined, with perseverance, tenacity and with her whole heart. I could not ask to be named after a greater person.

“Whoa Nellie, I’ll meet up with you at the end of my life story. I hope I make you proud.” MWAH!

Merry Christmas

I’ve never been into Christmas. I‘ve hated the hype and capitalism since I was a kid. In fact, I never opened my presents until after Christmas dinner when I lived at home. It drove my parents crazy.

Christmas was my dad’s favourite day. Since he died Christmas has been held at my house and I try to honour that day to the best of my ability. Merry Christmas dad. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZwI5wXU1z4

To all my friends and family, Merry Christmas. I want to give a special tribute to my Nemo’s. The best is yet to come. Red you rock. Kim, thanks for picking up where we left off, I’m not sure how I survived without you. Jedi, I have no words to define what you have brought to my life, you are my saviour. Hilary you are my light and my fortress and my reason for being.

“Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight, someone’s thinking of me and loving me tonight”...and that truth is what makes today Christmas for me ;-)

Merry Christmas one and all!

My Jedi

"I don't believe the training of a true Jedi comes from listening to lectures. I want to teach you how to learn action, how to do things, not just think about them. There is no try." ―Luke Skywalker

I have a Mentor and I like to think of myself as his protégé. I refer to him as my “Jedi” however; he has the wisdom of Yoda. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a Mentor, therefore I consider myself blessed. I only have a few years of experience in Quality & Risk Management and although the theories and tools are embedded in me, the way my Jedi brings the applications to realization always amazes me. I am grateful that he imparts his knowledge, strategies and for his willingness to provide clarity so I can continue to grow.

I celebrated my birthday this week. My Jedi called to wish me a happy birthday, and in his usual ORID focused fashion he posed those dreaded provocative questions. I can only remember 3 of the 5 questions.

1. What was the high point of the past year in your life?
2. What were you disappointed with in the past year?
3. What do you want to accomplish in the next year?

Exhausted from staying up far too late the night before on a game he introduced me to, my answers were not focused at all. I was dismayed that my immediate responses all related to work. My Jedi sensed my frustration and encouraged self reflection to seek the true answers to those questions.

I journeyed throughout this week and found the answers. Thank you Jedi for your wisdom, council, patience and mostly for your friendship. When I grow up I want to be like you. Maybe someday I’ll actually be able to teach you something too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ur3uk0OiyuA

"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."---Yoda

I Run For Life

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. First and foremost this is dedicated to my beloved friend Linda who completed her survival lap this past September. Long may you live girl!

Secondly this is in memory of my mother-in-law ‘Annie’ and my beautiful niece ‘Belle’ who both fought a valiant fight against cancer and inspired us all.

Finally this is a tribute to my niece Brit who just finished her second “Run for the Cure” and my daughter Hilary who was the ECI “Rebel of the week” for raising the most money for cancer research. I challenge both of you to change your world. You are future leaders. I love you!

Together we can make cancer history. And to all you ladies out there, don’t forget to feel your ta-tas!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgiwrvEX8wY&feature=related