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06.23.2008 "The Hunter Has Been Hunted!"
I saw something pretty disturbing on the weekend. Well, I guess in the big picture and in the 'circle of life' it's totally normal. But I still didn't need to see it. Gaaaaahhhh!

So, Farshad and I were walking along a residential street in Kitsilano. I saw something on the roof of a car that was parked along the sidewalk. As we neared it the object, I saw that it was a cat's leg. I vividly remember the details: it was grey with a white paw. And at the other end was a mangled stub of a bone protruding out. Blech!!!!

Of course I started thinking: why is it there? How did it end up there? My first thought: someone has a grudge against whoever owns this car and put the severed cat leg on the roof as some kind of sick message or mind-f*ck. Uhm, no. On second thought I doubt that's it.

My second thought: I'm guessing there is a dead cat somewhere in the 'hood and a bunch of crows got to it. They're notorious scavengers and there have been numerous occasions when I've been walking under some power lines and plunk - something drops down beside me. It could be a chicken bone, or nutshell, or bottle cap. I'll look up and see a crow, peering down at me. You almost hit me, you bastard! Anyway, yeah - so I'm guessing the hunter became the hunted, and the crows picked apart the poor kitty's remains and one of them dropped a leg. And it landed on the roof of the parked car. Call me Miss Marpole.

06.19.2008 "My Dad Could Have Taken Your Dad"
It was Father's Day on the weekend. I could write about how Sloane celebrated Father's Day this hallmark holiday (she gave her daddy a Starbuck's gift card, a very cute greeting card with a baby bee and her daddy on it, and a Crayola, hand-drawn original Sloane piece of art), but I want to write about something else this year....

There's that movie coming out this year, titled "When Did You Last See Your Father?" (which is based on a book). A lengthy title, a bit of a mouthful. But it evokes some thought. When was the last time you saw your dad, really saw him, spent time with him? What do you remember about him? All my life, I've heard stories about my father. I never met him. He died before I was born, unfortunately.

And all my life I've heard these wonderful stories about my father. How he was hard-working, how he was generous, how he was sensible, intelligent, reliable, etc. I've also heard stories about his temper, and how he mostly kept it in check but could fly off the hook if provoked in extreme situations. These stories intrigue me and have entertained me for years ever since I was a little girl and could comprehend the fact that I had never met this great man who was my father. I thought it was time to write about some of these stories, in time for Father's Day. This is how I remember him:

1) Frozen in Time
I've seen many pictures of my father. I've seen pictures of him decked out in his tuxedo on his wedding day. I've seen pictures of him casually hanging out at home. I've seen pictures of him proudly leaning on his new car, arms folded across his chest. And all these pictures have a certain feel to them. They are old, of course. You can tell this based on the surroundings in the photographs (e.g. the teak furniture and the old-school TV at the house, the 1960s car model, the bell-bottoms on the people in the background). But my father, in my opinion, looks timeless. With his short, brush cut and non-trendy clothes (classic-cut black pants and turtleneck sweaters, for example) he looks current. And his expression is always the same - one of dignity, poise, calmness, and his slightly smiling mouth indicates a sense of whimsical-seriousness. If it wasn't for the backdrops and props in the photos with him, the pictures could have been taken today. I love that.

And there is one picture that really stands out for me. It was taken when he was a very young adult. Maybe in his late teens or early 20s. He is roller-skating down the sidewalk of my grandparents' old house. There is a series of shots, taken at different angles, but each essentially the same. His arms and legs are flying in all different directions as you imagine him trying to keep his balance. But his facial expression is the same - he is cool and collected despite the tangible presence of physical imbalance. It's priceless.

But as you'll read later on, it's not always about keeping things in check. Sometimes people's reactions can surprise you. And that can make someone more complicated and hence more interesting, in my opinion....

2) Revenge is Sweet - Part I
When my father came over to Canada from China, he was about 10 years old. He was small, skinny, gangly. He became a target for bullies, especially being Chinese (this would have been the 1940s or so). He would fight back as best he could, but he was small and outnumbered.

But then he grew up, and got interested in martial arts. He eventually became a double-black-belt in Kung Fu (or something like that). When he was older and more built and skilled in self-defense (and fighting skills), he went back to the old hood where he was regularly beat up. He found those kids (now teens) who used to bully him. He asked them, "Do you remember me?" They looked at him, a bit confused, not sure what was coming next. He proceeded to kick the shit out of each and every one of them. Awesome.

3) Breakfast of Champions
My mother used to cook breakfast for my dad every day before he went to work at his warehouse. She would prepare him some steamed rice and a steak so big that it hung off the plate. He would eat it all. My dad was not a large man (about 5' 10") and when I asked my mom to describe his physique, my mom told me, "Very fit, and all muscle." Way to go, Mom.

4) Revenge is Sweet - Part II
My dad had a warehouse for his snack food distribution company. One time some thieves broke in, stole some stuff, wrecked some stuff. Based on this, my dad figured it was a bunch of young punks. I don't even know if he called the police about it. But he definitely had his own plan, thinking the petty criminals would return soon for some more mindless destruction.

For 2 weeks, he would come home from work, eat dinner, then go back to the warehouse. There he would sit each night in the darkness during the wee-hours, waiting for the thieves to come back. My mother begged him not to do it each night, fearing for his safety. But my father's prediction was correct: the young criminals returned to the warehouse one evening. And some unseen force was waiting for them. He kicked the shit out of each and every one of them in the dark. Totally, frigging awesome.

5) Moon River Dance
From a young age, I knew that my mom and dad's wedding song was "Moon River." We had the sheet music for the piano for this song, and I used to play it back at the house. It's a pretty song. Sometimes when I would be playing the piano, I could hear my mother singing along upstairs while she was washing dishes or something. As I played the piano, I would often get lost in the music. When I played this song, I would imagine young versions of my mother and father dancing together. My mom in her white wedding dress, my father in a black tux, while all their friends and family watched, big smiles on everyone's faces. And every time I hear that song now, I still imagine that scene in my head. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

6) Before Mr. Miyagi Did It
For years of my childhood, my family spent our summer vacations in the Okanagan. We went to the same motel which was near the lake and had a nice pool. We always loved it, spending 2 weeks of the hot summer by the water. I found out years later that my parents went on their honeymoon to the Okanagan. I wonder if that's one of the reasons my mother always returned there once a year with her children?

My mother once told me a story about their honeymoon. She and my dad were enjoying breakfast on the patio of their hotel. My father had 2 butter knives and he was catching flies in mid-flight with them, trapping them in between the 2 utensils. It's just like that cool scene in "Karate Kid" where Mr. Miyagi catches flies with chopsticks. But my dad did it first. Awesome reflexes.

7) What Did You Say???
One day my dad was in Chinatown, running in errand. He parked his car in a loading-only zone because he was quickly running into a store. A Caucasian man made some kind of snarky remark that he couldn't park there. To add insult, he spat on the hood of my dad's car and called him a nasty, racial slur. It was probably the 1960s. My dad went ballistic.

He went psycho on this guy's ass, and seriously gave him an ass-whooping. It was so bad some local guys had to pull my dad off the guy, and told him to beat it before the cops came. I know it's a sharp contradiction from the image of a man who normally keeps his cool, but sometimes when people are pushed to the edge things get messy. I applaud him though for teaching the racist asshole a lesson in etiquette. I don't necessarily recommend that we all pummel people who randomly piss us off, but I still think it's a cool story because it was my dad.

8) Futuristic Lawn
We had a pretty big yard at the house where I grew up. My mother, brother and myself all took turns cutting the large, sloped front lawn and the even bigger back lawn. It would take us a couple of hours. On those especially hot afternoons when my mother would be struggling with the lawn mower, she would shake her head and recount the story of how my father had offered to install Astro-turf instead of real grass when he and my mother were building the house. "I should have told him 'yes'" my mother would tell us, as she sweated and emptied out yet another catcher full of grass clippings.

We also had the best 'water feature' on the block. My dad had installed underground sprinklers on our lawn. When we were little kids, whenever my mother turned on the sprinklers (by accessing the tap mechanism that was underground) it would be an event on the cul-de-sac. All the other kids would want to run around on our lawn underneath the mechanized jets of water that would rotate and spin in a hypnotic, robotic fashion. Watering the lawn was totally fun at our house, and there was no need to keep moving the sprinkler every 2 hours to make sure the entire lawn got watered. I remember thinking we had the coolest yard on the street. And all thanks to my dad, who had a futuristic vision.

9) Proud Daddy
When my brother was born, my parents were elated. Their first born was a healthy son. Even though my dad worked long, hard days he would make sure he spent time with his young child. Now I don't remember the exact details of this story, but somehow my father ended up falling asleep on the couch with his arm hanging over the edge, and my brother was running around without his diaper. My mom was doing something in another room and she heard my dad yelling her name. Somehow, some of my brother's fecal matter ended up on my sleeping father's extended hand. Not sure of logistics, but that's how the story goes. What a proud moment for a father.

10) Street Tai Chi
Our family house was on a quiet cul-de-sac. Every morning, when the weather was nice, my father would wake up and do his tai chi on the street. All the houses faced towards the street, and everyone could see him. My mother would feely slightly embarrassed, knowing that all the neighbours were probably watching him.

I like the imagery of looking out our old kitchen windows and seeing my dad with his brush cut and pajama bottoms and bare feet practicing some physical meditation in the early morning. Even though one side of him had a passionate temper, this image of him paints a picture of calm discipline and inner peace. If I was there, I totally would have joined him in his morning ritual.

I totally wish I had had that opportunity....

06.13.2008 "A Cure for the Lovelorn"
I had a thought the other day and it made me a little sad. Well, to be more accurate, this realization just added to my already melancholy mood. I realized that if my life continues on the path that I envision that it will, then I won't fall in love with anyone else in the near or long-term. I have my partner, and am very happy (rest assured for my friends who are thinking otherwise about me). But I don't see the opportunity to experience those head-over-heels, all-encompassing, enrapturing falling-in-love-for-the-first-time emotions with a new partner. Not any time soon.

And those are indeed great feelings. It can be a train-wreck or an emotional roller-coaster but at the time who cares? You feel on top of the world, you feel alive, you can feel emotionally messy and neurotic as well but it's all incredible because your emotions are at the surface, being tickled and stimulated and you are reminded how wonderful (your) life can be.

Long-term feelings are wonderful too, but over time they can be a slow-releasing drug. It's a far contrast from the quick-release, adrenaline rushes that carry you away during those early phases of love and lust. So, when I realized that I won't be experiencing those force-to-be-reckoned-with emotions anytime soon, well - it made me sad, lovelorn, longing a bit.

I was commuting when I had these thoughts - the skytrain is where I have some of my more profound thoughts and realizations. Suddenly The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" came on in through my headphones, and you may think it's corny but the timing could not have been more perfect. I am an 80s child and I love the upbeat, synth beats and unmistakable Cure-sound. I really listened to the lyrics carefully and found myself carried away by the beautiful words and expressions of passion. While the music filled my ears, the images filled my head. It was so tangible all of a sudden, that experience of of making a positive connection with another person for the first time, eliciting feelings that compel you to run away with another person just to be with them and only them.

It was just what I needed to hear. I know it's not the same thing, but if I couldn't experience those falling-in-love-for-the-first-time feelings, I could almost feel the same by listening to this song. It was that magical.

06.11.2008 "My Own Personal Hell-A-Vator Ride"
I wasn't in the greatest mood the other day. Work was just totally mediocre for me so far that week. As usual there were a million things to do at home. For the frame of mind that I was in, even the thought of entertaining and playing with my small child later that evening seemed more like a task than a joy. Sigh. Not good to feel like this.

On my lunch break I had to go run some errands. I stepped on to the elevator on the 17th floor and pressed "G" for my ride to the lobby level. As soon as the doors closed behind me, I knew something was not right. Instead of the usual speedy trip down, the elevator moved at a snail's pace. I felt the compartment jarring and shaking. It would creep along slowly, then suddenly speed up, then almost jam, then engage again. I felt at any time it might just drop all the way down to the bowels of the tower. Holy shit. I'm inside this tin can and it has a mind of it's own. I watched the floor lights light up slowly in descending order. I started pressing buttons at random. Non-responsive.

WTF? I reached for my cell phone. Who would I call? I thought of calling Janine back at the office and yelling hysterically into the phone: OMG, I know you can't do anything but HELP ME! I'm totally trapped inside the crazy elevator and I'm going to DIE!!! But surprisingly, I kept my cool. Even though my stomach had that sick, falling feeling in it and I was borderline full-on traumatized, I just told myself: if the elevator falls while I'm still inside it, oh well. There's nothing I can do. But I WILL be fine. I WILL be ok.

When the elevator finally hit the Ground level, the doors wouldn't open. Instead it slowly started creeping back up. To get back to familiar territory (i.e. safe ground) I pressed 17 to get back to my floor (waaaaaay up there). Surprisingly the elevator seemed sane again and ascended the tower seamlessly.

Ding. The doors opened and I stepped out from the dim elevator lights to the familiar hallway. I took a deep breath in. My legs were actually shaking a bit, but I was still in-check. Yes, I didn't freak out. I thought about just calling it a day for errands and going back to the motionless, security of my desk. But then I noticed a different elevator was ready to go down. I hopped in. Why not? Can't live in fear. This time, the trip down to the world outside was uneventful.

After a ride in the Hell-Elevator, I forgot about my dark thoughts that I was having earlier that day. Now I was totally looking forward to a mundane commute home later that afternoon and having Sloane squawk at me while I tried to eat dinner and trying to discipline her in a healthy way while she tries to squish raisins into the TV screen. Ahhhh, life is good again.

06.09.2008 "The Next Generation of Children's Harnesses"
Yes, today's journal entry is about more parenting stuff. Sorry if that's not relevant to you. But read on - you might find it amusing nevertheless.

We were taking a family stroll along the 7-Eleven bike path in Burnaby on the weekend. Just as we were turning around to start heading home, the beast (aka our child) woke up from her extended nap. A few digestive cookies and some sips from her sippy cup kept her happy in her stroller for about another 5 minutes. Then she decided she wanted to walk with us.

So Robin was on child-chase duty while I pushed an empty stroller. Our happy daughter was elated to be free. She had no problem keeping up with us (she ran as fast as her stumpy little legs could carry her while we strolled casually along) but she refused to keep up a consistent momentum, nor did she like walking/running in a straight line. Every few feet, she would either stop to pick up a discarded cigarette butt (she can spot one a mile away) or start straying from the paved path and wandering into the grassy side areas (which were serious dog-poo danger zones). Sigh.

We are glad that our daughter is so physical and active and loves the outdoors. But why can't she stay focused on the task at hand i.e. walk from A to B without contacting mouth herpes from used cigarette butts or ingesting puppy fecal matter? That's where a harness would be really handy to keep her in check and out of danger, we discussed amongst ourselves. But Robin elaborated on that thought and pointed out that this harness should have a mouth piece attachment, for better steering capabilities. We pictured a little Hannibal Lecter-like mask incorporated into this next generation of children's harnesses. But, I pointed out with my marketing hat on, it would have lots of pink sequins on it - the Princess Model.

Hmmmm. I don't know if that would appeal to other parents? I think perhaps we're just a little more warped than your average care-givers.

06.05.2008 "Goldfrapp, Tiga, Peggy Lee, Ladytron, Peaches - What Doesn't Belong Here?"
When I'm at work, I listen to last.fm. I like them. Essentially, to get started, you type in a favourite musical artist. Then they start playing music for you by that artist and then suggested artists' work. You vote on what you like and what you don't like, and over time the website 'gets to know your musical tastes' and you build a profile (or neighborhood) of favoured songs and artists. Over the past few months I've built up quite a profile to myself after typing in 'Goldfrapp'. Now I regularly get doses of Hot Chip, Ladytron, Postal Service, Simian Mobile Disco, Annie, Peaches, etc. Wicked.

But then the other day as I was working and listening to some excellent electro-based tunes, the good folks at last.fm started playing Peggy Lee's "Winter Wonderland." In June. Now, I love that song. It's one of my favourite holiday tunes. However, where did it come from? Peggy Lee is the complete opposite of Peaches, for example. And did I mention that it was a Christmas tune that they were playing in spring?

Seriously - it's bizarre. Maybe my radio station noticed that I was getting a bit stagnant and stuck in an electro rut, so to speak. And they wanted to throw me a curveball at the chance that I'd like something outside that circle and therefore broaden my musical tastes. Well, whatever the motivation, I told them that I liked the song. Because I do.

Let's just hope they don't try to change my profile too much and start playing thrash-metal or something crazy like that. Not my cup of tea. But then I could just tell them I don't like it, and that's that. I hope.

06.04.2008 "Pool Dreams"
I've been spending a great deal of time (too much time, in fact) in meetings these days at work. And the majority of the meetings have been in a particular meeting room on the south-east corner of our building. So needless to say, I've spent a great deal of time lately staring out from the 18th storey window towards the Georgia-Dunsmuir intersection downtown.

I've noticed a small swimming pool wedged in between the Hyatt hotel and another tower. It looks a bit odd, out of place - this small, blue oasis amongst all the dull concrete. It often sits empty, not many hotel guests seem to use the outdoor facilities. I've been spending many daydreaming moments lately mesmerized by this shimmering picture. It entices me from my meeting prison. Wouldn't you just like to jump in, I imagine it asking me, the water's surface flitting and flirting in the wind.

It reminds me of one of my favourite David Hockney pieces. There's something about an empty, undisturbed swimming pool (especially one that's outdoors) that tempts people to take the plunge and just jump. So refreshing, so enticing, so natural. I imagine myself flying out the window of my tower and doing the perfect dive into the welcoming water. Something to dream about while I pass the hours away....

06.02.2008 "Where Am I? On the Set of 'Leave it to Beaver'?"
Since becoming a mother, the family has been cooking the majority of our meals and eating at home. I thought it would make me squirrelly after awhile (since in a previous life I went out to eat for over 50% of my meals). However, quite the opposite is true. I feel great about it. I feel healthy, I've dropped 10 lbs, and I feel less bloated than I used to feel after dining on rich, saucy, sodium-laden meals served in restaurants. And it's not just post-baby justification. I truly am happy about controlling what foods go into my body and using organic ingredients (as opposed to having no idea what exactly is in this seemingly innocent chicken-avocado club sandwich).

But here's where it gets more interesting. I've also taken up baking healthy snacks for the family (like low-fat zucchini bread, banana bread, pineapple-carrot squares). And whenever I whip up a batch of healthy goodness, I feel really fulfilled. I feel a great sense of accomplishment and achievement. It's bizarre. I feel like I should permanently be wearing an apron and 1950s wig and pumps and pearl necklace, a la mothers portrayed on TV sitcoms back in the day. Oh, what a scary image.

05.27.2008 "Would You Like a Chicken Leg? How About Some Fish Satay?"
I had a play-date on Sunday at the Moody Water Park. It was awesome. We walked there in the heat (a stroller caravan) then pulled out the blankets, sun-block, bathing suits and hats for the kiddies and let them run amok.

Their personalities were sure obvious at the water park. Friendly Tyler was busy approaching strangers (trying to nab their basketballs) and focusing on puddles, splashing around. Cautious Keira would stand near the sprinklers, wave her arms in delight when the cool mist hit her, and gently wandered around the spray area. Busy Sloane would run through the sprinklers, scrunch her face up (in delight or shock - I'm not sure) when she got soaked then would run 20 feet away from the water, loop back (still running) and run through the water again, then run away again, and repeat ad nauseam. The other mothers had their cameras, taking snapshots of their adorable Coppertone babies. I didn't really bother with the camera - I would just get shots of a pink and white blur in a sunbonnet.

After about 30 minutes, even though it was hot and sunny, the little kiddies were cold and ready to be dried off. So we took them back to our blankets and bundled them up in dry towels. Then we changed diapers, stripped off wet bathing suits, and put on dry clothes. Since we knew they'd be hungry from all the activity, we whipped out the snacks: cookies, digestive crackers, raisins, cereal, mandarin orange (carefully cut up in cubes), bottles of formula and water. As the kids were all dry and swaddled and chewing away, I made the comment to the other moms: where's our food? We packed these wonderful snacks for our kids and we're busy shoving it into their mouths, but no one's offering food to us. What's going on here?

Wouldn't it be nice if someone came up to us with a bucket of KFC and offered, "Have a chicken leg" or a nice tray of fish satay skewers that we could delicately eat with one hand (and the other hand cramming nutrients into our offspring's mouths). Oh, wouldn't that be nice! Maybe there's a niche market there for some entrepreneur, a summer business to cater to busy mommies in the park. Hopefully someone will read this and make it happen....

05.26.2008 "Run Caterpillar, Run!"
I was walking to work and happened to look down at some point. It turned out to be a good thing that I did because I was able to avoid squashing a fuzzy brown caterpillar as he raced (as fast as he could) down the pavement. I was tempted to stop and help the poor creature (e.g. use a twig to pick up the little guy and toss him into a shrub). But I was in a rush to get to work and decided to keep on going. The pre-butterfly would need to fend for himself, take chances with other pedestrians who might not be as observant (or careful or caring for that matter).

Suddenly I was reminded of my youth. As a child I used to spend hours running around the perimeter of our house and 'saving' bugs. If I saw an upside-down beetle flailing his legs around while he lay helplessly on his back, I would flip him right-side up and watch him run away. If I saw a caterpillar trapped in a spider's thread, desperately wriggling around in the air, I would cut him down. If I saw earthworms trapped on the hot pavement, far from the garden, I would gently transport them back to the cool soil. It was such an uncomplicated universe back then - there was life and there was death, and even though I was a little girl I could be the difference between life and death. I would be so focused on this micro-world and 'saving their planet' and helping these tiny creatures. It was a great feeling.

I think it's time to start looking more closely at my surroundings and seeing how any small gesture from me (like the flick of a twig to save a kind earthworm from burning on the hot cement) can make the world of a difference for someone or something else. How profound, all from a small caterpillar who had momentarily lost his way this morning....

05.24.2008 "Our Future Terminator Ass-Kicker"
Some parents look at their young children and glow amongst themselves, thinking "Oh, our little Emma is going to grow up to be an Olympic figure skater!" or "Little Ethan is going to be the star quarterback of his high school football team someday!"

Not us. We look at Sloane and predict she's going to be the next John Connor

You know - she's going to be the future leader of humankind in our battle with the rebellious robots and machines. Yes, she's going to kick some serious Terminator ass, running around calling the shots in a post-apocalyptic universe. I can't wait. I'll be so proud of her.

05.23.2008 "It's a Stupid Hallmark Holiday Anyway..."
Picture me muttering the subject line, being dismissive and speaking in low tones. You get the idea. But here's the thing: Mother's Day just came and went. It was my second one. I did have the morning alone to myself which was wonderful. But I didn't get anything?

I understand that Sloane is too young to acknowledge this event (she doesn't even say 'Momma' yet, but she does say 'Dada' - go figure). And I can hardly wait to get one of her macaroni art pieces or papier-mâché hand prints or ceramic ashtrays that she makes in school. Seriously, I love that shit and can't wait for it! I'll treasure everything she gives me.

Last year I got a few cards from friends/family and many well-wishes on the phone. But this year - nothing. Some people asked me how my mother's day went after the fact, which was nice. Oh, and Ivan came over that day and brought me a mixed CD that he'd made of 80s covers and some scratch & win cards (Ivan is the BEST - love him). What a wonderful gift tailored for me, not just your generic flowers (which I'm allergic to anyway).

Anyway. I'm just having a 'woe is me' moment. I'm sure it'll pass. But when I'm in my 70s and Sloane is too busy traveling the world or saving the planet or something and doesn't even call me on Mother's Day, I'll be heart-broken even though I've always considered it to be a stupid Hallmark holiday. There, I said it. Let's move on now.

05.21.2008 "Mad Hair Skills"
I'm in a planning meeting today. It started at 11:30am. And now it's almost 4pm. We worked right through lunch. OMG. I'm in meeting hell.

I'm only half listening to the ultra-techie talk. I only pipe up when resource or timeline questions come up (sporadically). I look out the window (ooooh, what a pretty view of downtown from the 18th storey). I do some email (both work and personal). I read the news. When is this going to end?

Suddenly a random thought pops in my head. I wonder if by dragging my hair across the touch-mouse pad, I can control the mouse cursor. I discretely lean into my laptop and move my head left-right in an effort to drag my hair across the mouse pad. No movement on the screen. Nothing.

I look up and my co-worker is watching me. He's smiling. I quickly feel the need to explain (i.e. whisper to him) what I'm trying to do. Meh, whatever. He's in the meeting with me. I'm sure he must understand the excruciating agony of it all and the need to amuse ourselves.

05.20.2008 "Quote of the Day Part 17: I'm Used to Working With Young People"
Maybe it's the type of company I've worked for over the past 5 years, or maybe it's the industry I'm in. But many of my co-workers would be on the young side I'd say. My last company had table-tennis and XBOX tournaments and held Amazing Race-type company events (running, completing tasks, etc). You get the idea.

This week at work I'm putting together some training sessions at our site by 2 IBM employees. They're nice guys, they like to wear golf shirts and they know tons of shit. I'd guess that they're in their 50s and probably married with a couple of grown-up kids and they've worked for IBM since Reagan was their president. They're that whole package. But don't get me wrong - they're nice guys and they've been very helpful and informative.

Anyway. One of my colleagues sat down to chat with them. When he got back to his desk he asked me (rhetorically):

>"Isn't there anyone at IBM under 50?"

It cracked me up. It's probably true.

05.14.2008 "There's No Easy Way To Say This Except... Listen To Your Mom About Changing Your Underwear"
I almost didn't write today's entry, because I didn't want to appear disrespectful. That's not my intention. Anyway, I'm going to go out on a limb and say what I'm trying to say in the most tactful way possible. You'll understand as you read further....

I read an article today about a local woman who's gone missing. It read just like other similar articles I've read recently (unfortunately). The article detailed her last sighting, her height, eye colour, etc. But when the descriptions got to her clothing, I read on in almost-disbelief. Apparently (and note, I totally do NOT want to appear like I am mocking the poor woman) she was last seen wearing spandex and a t-shirt with the words "Who Needs Boobs?" on the front, and "When You Have An Ass Like This" on the back. This last description almost read like a joke, it was so honest and earnest.

I was reminded of that cliché advice, about how you should always put on a clean pair of underwear when you leave the house because you never know when you might have an accident and end up in the hospital and God forbid you don't want people to see you in dirty underwear that's falling apart at the seams. Seriously. Of course this poor woman did not think she would forever be immortalized by her t-shirt, millions of people reading about what she was wearing? But then, if she wore the t-shirt with the words in the first place, then I guess she wouldn't mind who saw her. Well, good for her then. Again, I'm not mocking - I'm being serious.

Me on the other hand. You can bet that I'll be putting on a fresh pair of underwear tomorrow morning. Just like I do every morning, because you never know....

05.13.2008 "Snapshots of Motherhood"
Today's entry is in acknowledgement of Mother's Day.....

Snapshot #1: I'm lying in bed, grinding my teeth in frustration and irritation. It is probably 10pm, but on which day I don't recall. It could have been a week day, a weekend, it didn't matter. I was off work at the time, so days-of-the-week lost their meaning. There's a certain freedom associated with not knowing or caring what day it was. But I sometimes associated that experience with absent-mindedness and disorganization, 2 traits that I don't wish to possess.

Waaaaah. Back to reality. There it goes again. My daughter, crying in the other room. Constant. It's been how long now? Don't look at the clock, it'll only make things worse. And I just lie there, doing nothing. Nothing except grind my teeth.

It's called Sleep-Training. When the baby gets to a certain age, parents can choose to let their babies 'cry-out' until they exhaust themselves and finally collapse into sleep. And the end result is a happy, calm baby who eventually puts herself to sleep and sleeps through the night. Eventually. And we chose to do this training, the cold-turkey method. Well, almost cold-turkey. I administered some reassurance and comfort (a quick hug and pat on the back before lowering my small, 12-lb meatloaf back into her crib). But no more breastfeeding at bedtime, no rocking to sleep, no bouncing to sleep, no cuddling. Just lights out and 'Go to sleep.'

And her response - to cry and scream at us (well, at me - because I'm the only one still awake in the household). And she persists, crying for 2 hours straight. Horrible, horrendous sound. Please, just go to sleep already! - I beg some invisible force. But I don't feel bad for my daughter. I feel anger now. Other mothers talk about how heart-breaking it is to hear their children cry out. Not me. I'm this close to going in there with a pillow and ending everyone's misery. That woman is a monster, you must be thinking to yourself. Yeah, imagine how I felt. Of course I didn't literally want to permanently silence my infant. After succumbing to sleep deprivation and exhaustion for 6 months, I realize now that such thoughts are pretty much 'normal' and no reason for alarm. But this is now and that was then. Like many of us, I can be my own worst critic. And lying there, angry and frustrated while my daughter screams helplessly, I feel like a cold-blooded murderer more than a mother.

Suddenly, silence. Ah, beautiful silence. I wait a few minutes and concentrate really hard to make sure I can still hear her breathing. Good, she didn't asphyxiate herself in the tangled bedsheets until she passed out. I won't be sent to death row. She's just sleeping. JUST sleeping. And she put herself to bed. Ah, what a beautiful thing....

It's now 9 months later after the sleep training (which only lasted a couple of weeks in total). When bedtime rolls around (7pm!) I take my daughter to her room. I turn on her crib aquarium and she's already pushing off me to get into her crib. I put her down and she rolls over and sits up. She grabs one of the many books that lives in her crib and quietly starts turning the pages, looking at the pictures and touching the shapes. She can't read yet (let alone talk) but she enjoys her stories and her quiet time to herself. I kiss her head and close the door behind me. Through the crack in the door I see her still reading, not even noticing that I've left. And I know in about 10 minutes she'll quietly put herself to sleep and sleep through the night for about 11 hours. Brilliant.

I felt callous and cold during those sleep-training days. And I'm sure some people would have judged me as such as well. But now I look at how well-adjusted and content my daughter is at bedtime (and in general) and I feel good about it all. I feel like I've done something right as a mother.....

Snapshot #2: I watch my daughter climb up on the couch. I try to turn a blind eye as she starts running from one end to the next on the cushions, pointing and yapping away at everything and anything. But I stop to watch her as she climbs up on to an armrest and starts jumping up and down. Oh no. This is trouble.

But I don't panic. I calmly tell her to be careful. My words are meaningless to her since she's too young to understand, but I try to communicate a gentle message of caution at least, not a panicked shriek of "Nooooo!". I've seen it happen so many times - a young child will fall, wipe out, trip, etc and the parents freak out. They yell in surprise and horror and rush to their child's aid. Of course the child starts to panic and cry. Our approach: when our daughter injures herself, we watch to make sure she's not critically injured but we don't baby her or coddle her. We tell her 'she's ok' and give her a hug if really needed. And she responds accordingly - she's easily consoled in about 10 seconds.

And as I watch her on the couch arm, I know that disaster is around the corner. Sure enough, she falls off the side, onto the hardwood, right on top of one of her hard plastic toys. Oh God, that must have hurt, I think to myself. But I keep watching her, my best calm expression still on my face, and I tell her she's ok. I'm sure most other people (i.e. other parents) would be horrified at my seemingly lack of concern or response. Oh, but whatever.

My daughter is stunned and shocked, and lets out a yelp. But I don't move to console her. I stay standing where I am. Then she stands up and starts running towards her toy box. She's laughing already.

I watch in amazement. I have a tough, little girl who is incredibly good at consoling herself. And I can't help but feel somewhat responsible....

Snapshot #3: on Mother's Day, Robin takes our daughter out for the morning. A whole morning to myself. Bliss! I do some light housecleaning, read a book on the couch (when's the last time I did that?) and even find time to do some artwork. Just what I wanted for my day.

Later that afternoon I drop off a small gift bag at our neighbour's. She's also a mother, but has 3 times as many children as I do. She helped us the previous week - she watched our daughter when Robin took me to the ER. No indication of inconvenience or disruption - she was only concerned for my health. I bought her some specialty tea, some organic cookies and some dark chocolate truffles. In the card I thanked her for being a great neighbour and wished her a happy mother's day, and told her to make time for herself to have a tea-time break.

She calls later that evening thanking me profusely for the gift. She shoo'd the kids away after dinner and had some alone-time with her treats. And she said it was exactly what she needed and wanted. We were totally on the same page. There was that understanding between us, that our kids are precious but we need to make time for ourselves. It's important not to lose yourself in your children, and don't feel guilty about chasing them away sometimes. We all need that balance, and sometimes we need to remind each other. I was happy I was able to remind my neighbour. I hung up the phone, smiling, and I enjoy the rest of my Mother's day.

05.12.2008 "Words That Make You Smile"
I'm sure many of you can relate to this: whether you're with some close friends, or family members, or your partner, one of you can utter a word or series of words or a phrase and everyone bursts out laughing (or at least cracks a smile). The words typically trigger an old memory that you shared together, or something like that.

Robin and I have a number of phrases like that. However, one in particular really sticks out and always makes me smile (even if I just think about it while by myself). He and I can be lounging around, having a conversation or not, and if there's a lull someone might mention "Sexy Boy Fight Club" in his/her best French-Canadian accent. We got this from the internet-porn show called "Webdreams."

There's one 'character' on the show (well, actually he's a real person because it's a reality-based series) and he is a French-Canadian porn star. In one episode he was explaining (in French) how he wanted to do something new for his web site. It involved filming him and a bunch of his friends while they wrestled shirtless on the green lawn of a local park. There would be a lot of grappling, pinning, grunting, etc. But while he explained en Francais the details, he would mention about every 30 seconds this "Sexy Boy Fight Club" (these last 4 words in English).

I'm totally not judging. I'm all for shirts-off wrestling if that's what people are into. No problem with the man-on-man stuff either. But it just became comical after awhile, hearing "Sexy Boy Fight Club" over and over again, sandwiched between a stream of sophisticated-sounding French words, and the English words spoken with a thick Francophone accent. The repetition of these words and the images of the men not quite coming off as super-sexy as they play-wrestle in the park (and someone pulls a hamstring in the process - limping is not sexy) just became absurd after awhile.

Anyway. Maybe you had to be there to find it humourous. But hopefully you all have something similar that makes you laugh/smile.

05.09.2008 "I Got My Identity Back"
I hadn't changed my Facebook profile picture in awhile and I realized it was time for a change. When I went to select a picture from my set, I became very aware that I had been using pictures of myself with my daughter over the last year. It made sense. For the majority of last year, my identity was inseparable from hers. We were joined at the hip. We did everything together: eat, play, go for walks, watch the Weather Network on TV. For the first 3 months she was practically attached to my breasts. Then whenever I went out she was either in a baby carrier slung across my shoulders or she was an extension of me via the stroller. You get the idea.

But now that I'm back to work and I only learn about her daytime activities through updates from her various caregivers, suddenly I didn't have the urge to present myself to the Facebook community as a mother. I mean, of course I'm still a mother and identify myself as such. But I don't need to communicate that message with every outfacing representation of my self.

So now it's just me. I chose a picture taken a couple years ago, happy and smiling in Mexico. That's how I feel today too. And it's just a face-shot. For all you know if the camera were to pan down you could very well see a silly, giggling toddler strapped to my back. Yes, my daughter will always be there as an extension of me. But I just don't need to point that out 24-7.

05.07.2008 "Monkey Murderer"
To the person or persons responsible for breaking into our local zoo and killing one monkey and kidnapping another (full-story here).

You are scum. I hate you. What is wrong with you? I realize that people are innocent until proven guilty and I have no idea what your intentions were (maybe you just wanted the opportunity to touch a monkey and things went horribly awry?). But based on the evidence (one dead monkey, one missing monkey), I don't think you are fit to live amongst the rest of us civilized people. I hope poor Jocko put up one hell of a fight and scratched you right in the eye and smeared feces all over your mouth before he met his unfortunate and horrible demise. You deserve way worse, as far as I'm concerned, and I hope you are brought to justice, you vile sub-human(s).

I realize there are horrible injustices suffered every day. And some readers might think monkey-killing is bad but certainly not the worst that can happen. However, some things just really get under my skin, strike a nerve, make me angry, etc. And this is one of them.

RIP Jocko. And as for your missing companion Mia - our prayers are with you, and hope for your speedy return.

05.06.2008 "Tissue Boxes Are Like Mini-Couches"

Since it's hay-fever season, I decided to stock up on Kleenex (or tissue paper - the correct, generic word for it). Anyway, I went to Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up a few boxes in their standard blue-striped design (the ones I always buy) and what did I find - some new designs! I grabbed 4 boxes in a baby blue and brown circle motive. I was very excited.

Now before you roll your eyes and groan and wonder what my life has come to, let me comment. I'm not an aesthetically-obsessed individual. But I applaud simple and tasteful designs. Let's talk about couches for a second. The one time I went couch shopping was years ago and it was before those custom-built designs became popular. So I went to various large furniture retailers and was appalled at the selections. Never mind the comfort level and structural design (I could find a 'good' couch within my budget), I couldn't wrap my head around the material used to cover this major piece of furniture (i.e. one of the first things a person would see when he/she walked into your living room).

First off leather was out of my spending-range, and those colours were just fine (go figure). But everything else was decorated in loud florals or stripes, or just lame-designs (weird art deco slashes of colour?). Let me say that if you're into these types of designs I'm sorry if I sound like I'm telling you that you have bad taste. I'm not. Your taste is just radically different from mine. The point I'm trying to make, though, is that I was surprised at the lack of options for someone like me who wanted a simple design, God-forbid a monochrome colour scheme?

So I ended up finding what I wanted at Ikea. I got a very simple, neutral coloured couch there. For years it served as a sitting device and sleepover bed for various friends (and myself - there are countless evenings when I used to doze off on it in front of the TV). It was an inoffensive, khaki-green colour and sometimes even looked grey in certain lights. I would jazz it up with different coloured throw-pillows, depending on my mood (this is another advantage of having a neutral canvas - you can work with it). I loved that couch. I was very happy with it.

And that brings us to today. A tissue box is not as big or as noticeable as a couch, you might think. True. But have you gone shopping for tissues lately? Have you seen the designs on the boxes? Seashells, kittens, Mona Lisa, garish flowers, Jelly Beans, etc. Sorry, those don't really fit into my decor scheme. I'd like to think of a tissue box as a mini-couch. And I'll choose the pleasing designs over the tacky ones any day, thanks very much.

04.29.2008 "Sometimes Good Intentions Are, Well...They Can Be Gross"
I understand some things are cultural things. Specifically there are some things that we (Westerners) find pretty revolting but in other cultures such behaviours are perfectly acceptable. For example: spitting. I realize that in other parts of the world people spit in public all the time. And not just discrete, well-aimed fluid. No, we're talking full-on hoarkers and greenies that are brought to the surface with great gusto and noise.

I remember sometime last year I was at Metrotown right outside the Bay (but still inside the mall). There was an Asian gentleman walking ahead of me and suddenly I heard that guttural sound of someone bringing up an oyster. Sure enough that's what what was going on and he decided to deposit it right on the tiled floor. Without a beat I turned around and headed away from that direction. I just couldn't handle walking past that. Wuss, I'm sure some of you are thinking. Yes, it's a cultural thing but not my culture. OMG, did I just say that? The point - I didn't need to see that. And I'm doing my best not to judge here.

Anyway. I was on the skytrain recently during morning rush hour. It was pretty busy, lots of morning commuters. I couldn't help but notice the young Asian woman standing near me. She was coughing and covering her mouth up with her hand. Then she took a small, plastic bag out of her purse and discretely spat into it. No hoarking noises, no bravado - just spitting into a bag that was held inches from other people's faces. Then she quietly put the bag back into her purse.

I watched this. I watched it all. I wasn't exactly repulsed. In fact I appreciated her efforts to be discrete. But it still didn't sit very well with me. I just didn't need to see that, especially first thing in the morning. Call me a culturist or whatever, but it wasn't cool.

04.25.2008 "Ah, It Smells Great to Recycle!"
Our workplace has bins to recycle some items (bottles, aluminum cans, plastic containers). However, like most places, there's nowhere for plastic bags. At home, we take our extra plastic bags to Save-On where they have plastic bag recycling drop-offs. After buying some take-out at the office, I threw the plastic container in the recycling bin but then contemplated throwing the plastic bag in the thrash. On second thought, no. Why not just pack it up in my purse and take it home to recycle later? The fact that I thought of this (and will execute to plan) automatically makes me better than the average person. End of discussion.

But it also reminds me of the "South Park" hybrid cars episode where people driving hybrid cars get so high and mighty on themselves. They create a toxic gas called 'smug', then eventually they get so arrogant that they pause mid-sentence to fart then inhale deeply to smell their own noxious fumes. Hilarious.

Ah, the air sure smells great where I'm standing....

04.24.2008 "The Mortal Enemy of the Pig"
Whenever I do "This Little Piggy" with Sloane, I do some improvisation. When I get to that 3rd little piggy-toe, I always say, "This little piggy had tofu....." instead of "roast beef." Go figure. I felt weird talking about pigs eating cows. Not a nice imagery. And I think I mentioned in a previous entry that I'd be totally cool if Sloane grew up not wanting to eat meat. I'd fully support her in that. So, while she giggles and kicks her feet up with glee during our mother-daughter interaction fun-time, I throw in some subliminal messages. Ooooh, parents can be so sneaky. I also hide vegetables in her pasta sauce. Just wait until she finds out about that....

Robin heard me doing this the other day (the piggy thing) and immediately he questioned, "Tofu? That's not how it goes." I told him that talking about pigs eating cows was disturbing to me. His response: "But the pig and cow are mortal enemies. They must fight to the death." Ridiculous.

Sloane cooed and laughed and kicked some more. "Shut up parents, and let's get back to my feet here" - that's what she was thinking. I know it.

04.23.2008 "Free Michael Jackson!"
Something in the local, morning paper caught my eye today and made me smile. An article talked about some Earth Day field trips at Stanley Park for some elementary schools. One of the activities was to name then release some salmon fry into a special eco-system. The kids came up with names like Lucky and Jade for the little critters, but one special fry was named Michael Jackson. I love it.

Some adults and/or parents might not be too impressed with that name, maybe even a little offended given recent controversies surrounding the (former) King of Pop. But that's the great thing about kids. They're so free in their thinking. They like Michael Jackson, so they called a baby fish after him, then set it free. Simple as that.

And there's something to be said about simplicity. It made me smile.

04.21.2008 "You Know How That REM Song Goes...."

Farshad and I had a lovely dinner on Friday night. We ate at Green Lettuce, an Indian-Chinese fusion restaurant that I highly recommend. The ambience isn't really special, but the food is delicious and spicy and the service is efficient and friendly. And the dinner conversation revolved around the ensuing apocalypse....

As we dined on spicy dumplings and Mongolian beef, the snow fell fast and furious outside the window on Kingsway. It was mid-April, and there were large, fluffy flakes falling from the sky. And the wind was whipping them around, creating almost blizzard conditions. When has Vancouver ever had snow this late in the year? We also talked about how honey bees are mysteriously dying and we don't yet know the reason never-mind the impact it will have on crops. Food (especially rice and grain-products) have suddenly sky-rocketed in price. Polar bears are drowning to death because the ice is melting and they can't swim forever looking for solid ground. I could go on and on quoting "An Inconvenient Truth" but I think you get the idea. It's the end of the world.

We planned our emergency strategies, for when the city shuts down and sinks into chaos and we are forced to commute on foot to look for our loved ones so we can spend our last hours on this dying planet with them. We didn't really focus on survival techniques. No, we concluded that we've lead good lives to date and can't complain. So we're willing to pass on quietly with the apocalypse swirling madly around us. Just as long as we're with family and close friends at those final moments. That's all we ask for. As the song goes: "It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine...."

04.17.2008 "Fresh Poetry"
I know I've blogged about the ladies of Fresh before. These are the women who work at the coolest, funkiest, most delicious food court station in the Bentall Towers. Since I'm now back at work and a regular patron there again, I thought I'd write my praises for them again. But this time in poetry. How fun.

This One Is For the Ladies of Fresh....

When I ride the escalator up on my way to Tower Four,
At the top I see the "Fresh" sign, a sight that I adore.
We also call it "Discoball" - it's a wonderful place for eats,
It rocks the Food Court at the Bentalls - it's friendly, fun and neat.

The women are all tattooed hippie chicks and they call you "Hon,"
They smile and chat and laugh with you as they wrap-up fresh-baked buns.
They serve up these amazing soups with chick peas, lentils and barley,
And the whole time that they're serving you they're grooving to Bob Marley.

The spinning discoball above illuminates the food,
After I eat their veggie meatball pasta I'm always in a great mood.
Just like their name their food is fresh, and healthy and piping hot,
And when they fill the containers up they always give you a lot.

I crave their chicken rice pilaf - it's the best I've ever had,
And I can't wait to try their veggie samasos - they look totally rad.
The walls are purple, the staff are hip, and the surfaces are so clean,
For lunch today I think I'll get a soup - I hope they have black bean.

Oh, ladies of the Discoball - I'm totally in love with you,
I love your style and your casualness, and of course I love your stews.
If you closed your doors and stopped the ball I'd really miss you a bunch,
I'd be lost and lonely and of course I'd be starving because I'd have no lunch.....

04.14.2008 "You Were Looking at What on Craig's List?"
The following conversation was between Robin and myself recently:

Robin: I was looking on Craig's List earlier today....

Rena: Mmm-hmm.

Robin: Well, they have these personal ads on there. And I was looking through them. Do you know what I noticed?

Rena: No, what?

Robin: It seems that many women over 30, in their later 30s, aren't aging really well. The white women, anyway. In their profile pictures, they're looking pretty wrinkled and stuff. Especially around the eyes.

Rena: Really? That's interesting.

Robin: Yeah.

Rena: Pumpkin....?

Robin: Yes, pumpkin?

Rena: [Smiling] What were you doing looking at personal ads on Craig's List?

Robin: Oh, pumpkin.

Rena: [Laughing] Oh, I don't care. I'm not worried. I just love the fact that you do this and tell me and I'm not bothered by it.

Robin: I love the fact that I can tell you....

04.12.2008 "Robin Wins"
Sloane has a ways to go before she masters the art of language. She does say words but she doesn't use them consistently which leads us to believe that she doesn't quite get it. However, in the last couple of days, it appears that she's using one word reasonably consistently and in the correct contexts. That word? Ba-bah. It's a Chinese term for father, daddy (and we use it around the house regularly).

No sign of Mama. Robin wins. He's her first word. Totally unfair.

04.09.2008 "Very Bad Naked Indeed"
I had a horrible allergic reaction to something earlier this week. Maybe it was something I ate? Or something that touched my skin? Whatever it was, my body reacted horribly to it. I broke out in an angry, red rash that was localized on my neck, shoulders, chest and back, and eventually spread all the way down to my toes. Ouch! It felt like hundreds of hot, prickly needles were stabbing me. So itchy and painful.

After a trip to the doctor then doubling-up on anti-histamines and prescription cortisone cream, I was ready to resume my regular 9-5 work duties. However, I would be working from home since I was a bit dopey and still uncomfortable. As I worked away on email and some project research, I was painfully aware of how my shirt was chafing my delicate skin. Not good. But I was working from home and there was no one around. What the hell. So I took off my shirt and continued doing my work topless. I was in a clothing optional environment so why not take advantage of it?

I was reminded of that "Seinfeld" episode where they talk about the definitions of 'good naked' vs. 'bad naked', and the very funny scene where Jerry's girlfriend tries to open up a jar of pickles while in the buff. Good memories. Anyway, there I sat half-naked at my computer desk, covered with a bumpy rash and reeking of prescription creams. Not very pretty. It was a very bad naked scene indeed.

04.04.2008 "Worst Hunger Striker Ever"
I know I can tolerate a high degree of pain and discomfort. How do I know this? I have experienced childbirth first-hand. And no drugs or painkillers or epidurals, I might add. But one thing becomes glaringly obvious once a year when I get my annual physical exam and go for blood-work tests: I need to eat regularly or else I suffer.

Because of some hereditary ailments that I need to stay on top of, once a year I get my cholesterol levels tested. This involves being stabbed with needles by lab technicians and then watching them fill up like 5 vials of my blood. But the most difficult part about this whole process is that the blood test requires that I fast for 10 hours before the blood work. So that's 10 hours of no food or drinks, just water.

Now I also have hypoglycemia, which is low blood sugar. You can read more about that here if you wish. What that means for me is that if I don't eat on a regular basis, I get cranky, dizzy, hot, clammy and obsessive about food. All I can think about it how good it will be when I eat! So imagine me on the skytrain, no breakfast, and nothing to eat since the night before. Only 3 glasses of water (that I hoped would squash the angry hunger pains). Usually I stand on the train (because I have an all-day, sitting office job and don't really care to extend those sitting hours) but today I scoped out a seat because I felt weak. Then I started to get prickly all over, borderline sweaty. Then I couldn't help but think of food as my tummy was growling and roaring at me.

I finally got to the lab (just 3 blocks from my work - how convenient!) and they extracted my life fluids. Finally! Then I walked as quickly as I could to The Bagel Stop and got a scrambled egg bagel on whole wheat. I totally deserved a hearty breakfast. It was heaven! But it's really quite pathetic, when I think about it. I would be the worst hunger-striker ever (i.e. whiniest, weakest). Hands-down.

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