It was quite an extraordinary day today. A month into springtime and we woke up to 3 inches of snow. The robins were very confused, they were running up and down the streets, yes, running, and every now and then they'd fly into a tree and look up in bewilderment as the snow fell onto them. Just the other day they were plucking worms out of the freshly mown lawns.

A snowflake is one of Nature's most fragile creations, but look when they can do when stuck together! ~Anonymous.

This is the landing we drove to, home of the elusive wild turkey. Steven started to make some sort of turkey noise and I proceeded to make a snort of laughter. However, to my surprise, I heard turkeys frantically gobbling in reply. It was quite amazing to watch him call them in closer and closer, and all you can see is the dark shape as they run from tree to tree, like little woodland ghosts. Well, not so little, they weigh about 20-30 pounds. They didn't come within shooting range, which was fine with me, and eventually they decided to roost for the night. Who knew that wild turkeys fly into trees at night to sleep?

I was quite surprised at how much fun I had out turkey hunting the other evening. We drove up to "Secret Creek" (funny how all the places he takes me seem to be called that...) There were a huge amount of deer and elk on the way up. This top picture is just so pretty, you should click on it and enlarge it. Mule deer always look so shocked and surprised, and their huge ears are revolving like radar screens.

We had no idea what this girl was doing, you just don't ever see deer doing this. Steven says she must have just been in the process of stepping over the stump when she saw us and she stopped to make sure we weren't a predator. I prefer to think she is a sentinal of sorts, maybe warning the turkeys.

One little elk, racing off to find the rest of his herd.

These Words.

Seriously, don't you love these words?

I dreamed a dream in time gone by.
When hope was high and life worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die,
I dreamed that he would be forgiving.
Then I was young and unafraid,
And dreams were made and used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid.
No song unsung, no wine untasted.

Sung as Fantine, from Les Mis.

Situation Solved

(Thanks Linda, for sending me this...I love it!)

This is from an article in the St. Petersburg Times Newspaper on Sunday.The Business Section asked readers for ideas on "How Would You Fix the Economy?" I think this guy nailed it!

Dear Mr. President,Please find below my suggestion for fixing America's economy.Instead of giving billions of dollars to companies that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses, use the following plan. You can call it the Patriotic Retirement Plan:

There are about 40 million people over 50 in the work force. - Pay them $1 million apiece severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:

1) They MUST retire. Forty million job openings – Unemployment fixed.

2) They MUST buy a new American CAR. Forty million cars ordered - Auto Industry fixed.

3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage – Housing crisis fixed.It can't get any easier than that!

P.S. If more money is needed, have all members in Congress and their constituents pay their taxes...

What is it about Susan Boyle that moves us? I saw a little clip on some TV show last night and I was quite touched. Today I watched the full clip on You tube and I was visibly moved...goosebumps, chills and tears in my eyes.

Is it the fairy tale aspect? The Cinderella story? She is an unlikely international sensation to be sure. Sadly, the world in general really does judge a book by it's cover, and while she is an average looking woman, that isn't what "the industry" wants. Her voice negates the need for window dressing, but you know as well as I do what will happen once Hollywood (or the British version thereof) gets their hands on her.

What I really wonder, though, is why are we all so surprised that such a voice (oh, SUCH a voice) can come out of this woman? Could it be because the voices that we tend to think are wonderful all come out of Hollywood and media manufactured bodies? Do we truely believe that an average looking person can't have any talent? We all saw the audience snicker and roll their eyes as she announced she was unemployed, lives with her cat and has never been kissed. The sound of claws unsheathing was almost audible.

I find it sad. We watch those shows almost anticipating people who are going to make a fool of themselves. And hasn't Susan Boyle given us a swift kick?

Two things moved me. One was when, just seconds before she starts to sing, she gives this sneaky little smile, as if she is saying: "Go ahead then, laugh at me...but just you wait. Just wait and see what this 47 year old un-hip woman is going to do."

And secondly, is part way through they show Simon with his chin in his hands and he just gives a huge and happy sigh, almost like a young kid looking at their favorite movie star.

Susan Boyle...you showed us all, didn't you? You rock!

Oh how wonderful is the human voice, it is the organ of the soul.

~Henry Wadsworth Lonfellow.

It's official. Besides looking like my mother, I am now turning into her as well. I just spent the better part of the afternoon organizing my cupboards the way my mother used to have hers, and throwing away an absolute load of dishes, pots etc that I really don't need.

Not "throwing away" as in tossing in the garbage, but they'll go to the Sally Ann or somewhere. I am finding that I feel the need to pare my life down to the bare essentials. Other than books, I can't get rid of books, I have books I haven't looked at for years and years (and years) but you never know when you just might need that particular book. I kind of doubt I'll ever have the urge to re-read The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore, but I can guarantee that the second I throw it away, I'll need it for something crucial. So the more I clean out my closets and cupboards, the more books I seem to accumulate. I guess it's true that Nature abhors a vacuum, in my case she fills it with books.

~A room without books is like a body without a soul.
~Cicero 106BC-46BC

More things Irish

We spent the Easter weekend in C'oeur d'Alene and Spokane this year, sort of a treat, no cooking needed! We went to this wonderful little Irish restaurant called Conley's and the bread was SO good that I begged them to sell me a few loaves. You can't really tell in this picture, but each slice is really thick and the bread is very dense and has a phenomenal rye flavour. Mmmmmmm!

So, a few weeks ago I started thinking of Ireland and of how I have always wanted to go there. The other day I checked my e-mail and a friend of mine had sent me a website on vacationing in Ireland. I wrote her back and asked if I had mentioned that I was thinking of doing exactly that, or if she had just sent me the website by coincidence. "Coincidence" she replied. Later, I was reading a magazine and turned the page to see a map of Ireland with my name leaping right out of it..yes, Shannon is a city in Ireland and that's what my mother chose my name from. Coincidence? Perhaps.

And then, I was looking for some pictures for yet another friend, and I came across this old picture of my Grandpa...ahhh, my Irish Grandpa who was so proud of our heritage. Not so odd to have a picture of him in an old photo album, but as I looked at his Clark Gable look-alike face I noticed what seemed to be the word "Dublin" near the tear in the upper right corner. Upon removing the photo from the book, and looking at the back, I realized that it was indeed taken in Dublin. Yet another coincidence? Probably.

But then, upon checking tonights TV guide, I see that my "vice", The Simpson's is a new one...and where do they go? IRELAND!! Coincidence? With The Simpsons? I think not! I think this is the sign I have been waiting for, that Shannon should go to Ireland!

~Coincidence is logical

~Johan Cruijff

Dog sitting

Saydi (smiling) and Fisher (solomn). These are the retrievers that we dogsat for a few days.

They are brother and sister, and are very close...even "holding paws" as they rest on the floor.

This is the type of day I like to walk. It was cold, but not bitterly so. The sun was warm on our backs even though the thermometer read -14. The temperature and texture of the snow was at the point where it squeaked and crunched as you walked. Certainly there is no way to sneak up on anyone when it's like this!

~The clearest way to the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

-John Muir

By the way. Just a comment that I do know that Octo-mom "only" had 6 embryos implanted, and 2 developed into twins. Not that it makes a difference, really, be it 6 or 8 implants.

Another thought though, nothing to do with Nadya and her kids, I was wondering why the BC government has set up needle exchange programs for drug addicts at the cost of (approx.) $160,000 per year (the cost of building overhead, staff, equiptment and so on) and yet taxpayers like Steven have to pay for lancets and needles to control their diabetes.

I'm not saying that the needle exchange is wrong, I understand that the amount of newly diagnosed cases of HIV/AIDs and other diseases like hepatitis has dropped dramatically, and there are many drug addicts who have taken advantage of the councilling that is available, but I am saying that it seems wrong to give free needles to some, and yet to charge other people who are paying their bills and paying for BC Medical and paying the salaries of the government employees who are in turn biting the very hands that feed them. Ah yes...George Abbott can kiss my ass.

Hey, I remember that!

I was thinking of rotary phones and party lines today. I'm sure that every one who reads this knows about rotary phones, although I haven't actually seen one in a while, other than in movies, but I'll bet a lot of people who read this have never experienced a party line! (Coral? Rhiannon? I KNOW you guys haven't!)

When we lived in northern Quebec, back when I was a kid, our small village had party lines. There were usually about 10 or so families on one line. In other words, we all shared the same phone line and if someone else was using the phone and you picked it up at your house, it was like picking up the phone in the other room today, you heard them and they heard the "click" as you picked it up. You would hang it up in a huff, and hopefully they would quickly finish up their call so that you could use the phone. Of course the phone etiquette wasn't always followed and sometimes people would chit-chat for ages, rendering the line unusable for any one else.

Everyone had their own ring, a combination of long and short rings. I think ours was 2 long. You eventually knew who's ring was what, and you knew who was getting calls, and when. Phone etiquette also dictated that you not phone people during the night or early AM since everyone on that line would hear the ring.

Us kids would think it great fun to listen in on other calls, if you heard a ring, you would try and pick up the phone at the exact same second as the real recipient, thus they wouldn't hear the "click" and you could eavesdrop. I don't ever recall hearing anything exciting, but one just never knew....

It was hard to chat to your friends for any length of time since your parents would always be hollering to "get off the line...someone else might want to use it!", so we would tell each other what time we would call, we would then synchronize our Timex watches and then pick the phone up at the exact same second, and voila! Conversation in a whisper until we heard someone else harumphing and clicking as they hung up.

Now I see my neighbours hop in their truck and start to talk on the phone. What? You haven't even been out of your house and you need to talk on the phone? Within 15 seconds? What cold be so important that you couldn't have used the phone in the house before you left, you know, 15 seconds ago, or, what could be so important that you need to drive and talk on the phone when you have your children in the back seat? What happened to "paying attention" when you drive? I'm sorry, I just don't get it.

~For a list of all the ways that technology has failed to improve the quality of life, please press 3.
~Alice Kahn

Octo-Mom

What is with the rage that people feel towards Nadya Suleman...better known, I'm sure to her dismay, as Octo-mom? She is, without a doubt, somewhat odd and has certainly shown irresponsibiity, immaturity, selfishness, foolishness and a multitude of other negative words, but come ON...death threats?

She is assuredly not rational. What rational person who is single, jobless, in debt and cannot provide for her 6 children would then allow herself to be implanted with 8 embryos?

I think it must be the fact that we are in a recession and times are bad. People are losing their homes, their jobs, their savings and here comes a woman who just decides to have 14 kids and live off the government. It doesn't matter what she plans to do in the future, the fact remains that she can't support herself and her children in the now.

But I wonder why other families of huge "batches" of kids are recieved with love and help and kindness? Look at "John and Kate plus Eight". Everyone adores them and they are paying their bills by starring (exploiting?) their family in a reality show. There was a rumor that OctoMom was going to have a reality show, and Good God, the roar of fury was heard half way 'round the world.

Remember the McCaughys? She had 6 or 7 and half the world came pounding on their door, make that their nice new door that was attached to their nice new HUGE house that was built for them, and furnished by Sears and a dozen other companies, as well as the van that was supplied to them so that the family of 10 or so could go on nice outings that were filmed by Dateline and the likes, so that the rest of the wrold could "ooh" and "ahhh" over the wee ones.

But in Nadya's case, legal bigwigs are trying to have her babies taken away from her...before she even gets them home! No investigations have been done yet, there is no reason to think that she is harming the babies, no one knows what amount of friends, family and members of her church have for plans to help her.

It just strikes me as very sad. It doesn't matter what we think of her and the fact that she never should have had those 8 embryos implanted, what matters is, she DID and now there are 8 tiny babies that need to be cared for. And it wouldn't hurt anyone to toss the poor woman a word of kindness.

~The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children.
~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Give Me a Break.

This is totally ridiculous. I cannot believe our Health Care system, and this belongs in one of those "Outrageous" columns in Readers Digest or somewhere.

It's two things actually, although they are sort of tangled together.

Now, Steven has Crohns and has had multiple surgeries in which more and more of his bowel has been removed, thus resulting in two different problems; one being diarrhea and the other being a B12 problem.

The B12 is the "biggie". If you don't get B12, you get pernicous anemia and you eventually die. You can only get B12 through absorption in a certain spot in your bowel, and Steven has had that section removed. Therefore, he needs B12 shots monthly for the rest of his life...or he dies. Luckily, B12 is readily and easily available and his Dr. injects him every 4 weeks.

Now, Pacific Blue Cross won't cover this because, first of all, they said they don't cover "vitamin supplements." We sent letter after letter from his Dr explaining why this wasn't just a supplement, but to no avail. They have "rules to follow" don't you know?

Finally, we sent yet another letter, this time noting that a copy was being forwarded to our MLA and they responded with another letter saying that they only cover B12 when it is a treatment for pernicious anemia. "Hooray!" we thought..."finally!" Oh, but, no, no, they won't cover Steven because he doesn't HAVE pernicous anemia. "Well, but wait" we said, "if he doesn't get the B12, then he WILL have it"...same thing, no? Apparently no. He does not have it, so thus they will not pay for the drug.

We are appealing this.

The second item is similar. The only thing that helps his diarrhea is Immodium, the regular over-the-counter kind. It doesn't stop it by any means, and he still gets up once or twice during the night, but without it, it's every hour or 45 minutes. Really bad.

It's expensive, about $700 a year. But because it's over the counter, they refuse to cover it. So, Steven tried another drug, Lomotil, which is:

1. Almost three times as expensive.
2. Does not work as well.
3. Is a NARCOTIC and thus addictive.
4. Causes side effects like stomach pain and headaches.
5. It works by causing paralysis of the bowel, which is a very bad thing for
sufferers of Crohns.
6. His surgeon does NOT want him to take it.

But Pacific Blue Cross will not back down and pay for the cheaper, healthier, and more sucessful drug that has NO side effects.

We are appealing this as well.

Our system really cares about us doesn't it? And it's nice to see that they are concerned about saving money.

George Abbott is our Minister of health, and he can kiss my ass.


~If the people cannot trust their government to do the job for which it exists, then all is lost.
Barack Obama

I am really finding it hard to think of things to write. I think that January is that kind of month though, sort of slow and a little dreary. Not much happening, the Christmas exitement is all over with and not much is going on.

I heard on the news the other night that some of the sponsers for the 2010 Olympics have filed for bankruptcy and have therefore pulled out of their sponsership. These are not smaller companies, but HUGE ones like Nortel. Other sponsers are having their own economic meltdown and have simply pulled out.

And what does that mean to the citizens of BC? Well kiddies, it means that we, as in Us Taxpayers, have to make up the difference. Yes, the entire difference, which is reputed to be in the hundreds of millions of dollars.

I KNEW the Olympics in Vancouver were a bad thing. A bad, bad thing. The cost overruns are already in the hundreds of millions and they are getting higher and higher as more and more sponsers pull out. "Pull Out." Sounds vaguely sexual doesn't it? As well it should, as we are being royally screwed.

So our taxes will go up. Now, I am one of those people who don't generally complain about taxes, as long as they are reasonable. I mean, think of it, our taxes pay for things that I like. I like to have clean water that comes right to my house, I like having paved streets and I'm glad my children got to go to safe schools that had a roof. Our health care may be having it's share of problems, but I still can see a doctor when I need to. So taxes have their place, and it's usually pretty good.

But paying for the Olympics? That really bothers me. There isn't a politician in the world that can convince me that these Games will be good for BC.

~ Collecting more taxes than is absolutely neccessary is legalized robbery.
~Calvin Cooledge

Have I told you how Chino didn't know how to play? He lived three years at a kennel, well treated and well loved, but learned no social skills. He is so thrilled to have a good owner now, and all he wants is to be touched and loved, but we were all concerned that he didn't know how to play. He would watch Gypsy with a quizzical look, but when we would toss him a toy, it would "bonk" off his forehead and he would just stare at it. Sometimes we'd put a toy in his mouth, and he would just let it fall out. Like I say...no skills. Well, finally he seems to have the hang of it, and just look at his tail wag as he manages to get the cookie out of the ball. What a goof!

What a mouth!

Chino being happy because he is being touched (in his nice Christmas bowtie) Never have I met a dog who wants nothing more than a gentle human touch. What a loveable beast.

It pretty much was a winter wonderland as we walked through the park the other day. The snowflakes were MASSIVE and the weather was quite warm (considering it's December) and the sky was blue towards the south. It was odd to see such huge snowflakes coming from a blue sky.

The Ring (not the movie though)

Did I ever tell the story of my Mom's ring? I don't think so, so here it is: After my Mom passed away, my Dad asked me if I wanted her rings. Typical guy sort of question; of course I wanted them. I wore her wedding ring for about 5 years and one day I realized the diamond had fallen out. I was sad, but not heartbroken because I still had the actual ring, and people lose stones all the time. As a matter of fact, my Mom had lost her actual wedding ring more than once so they finally decided (after replacing it...more than once) that she should just wear a plain gold band. So this is really her engagement ring. But to continue the story, after I realized the stone was gone, I put the ring away, thinking that some day I'd replace it with a nice new diamond. And that was sort of the end of that. A few years pass by, and I went to Tanzania with my friend Nicole and we decided to buy a small tanzanite stone, thinking it would be a nice sort of remembrance that we could have made into a necklace or something some day. Well, a few months ago it occured to me that the wise thing to do would be to have the stone put in my Mom's ring...sort of a dual memory-keeper. Of course the claw thing that holds the diamond in was the wrong shape and the stone couldn't be rehaped and the jeweller told me that he would have to cut out the old claw-thing (he didn't call it a claw-thing, it has a name, but I've forgotten it) and then he'd have to solder it in and blah, blah...so I fearfully asked how much all this would cost, and to my great surprise, he apologetically said that it would take about 10 days and probably cost...oh, $75.00. Geez. So I said to go ahead, and here is the result. I am quite thrilled!!

Been through the desert....

As I was walking through the woods I came across this "deer with no tail", which of course brings to mind the old song: "Been through the desert on a horse with no mane." (Oh all right, I know the words are really "a horse with no NAME, but that wasn't as funny.)

Anyhow, this poor girl has no tail and Steven said that it was probably bitten off by coyotes, which isn't funny, but yet I can't help but envision a Wiley Coyote type leaping after this deer and ending up sputtering with nothing but a mouthful of deer hair as the deer leaps gracefully off into the distance. Sadly though, the coyotes try to "hamstring" the deer by tearing at their haunches and slowing them down. This girl was lucky to get away, and she seems to have healed up quite well, there was no blood and while she seemed a little too docile and let us get closer than she should have, she eventually took off like a shot and didn't seem to have any sort of limp.

Cute?

Could this little guy be any cuter? His mom must have been somewhere close, but we couldn't spot her. He was very curious and srood and stared at us for 3 or 4 minutes before he flagged his tail and scampered off. That's the closest I have ever gotten to such a wee one.

My Mum.

Just look at my beautiful mother...here she is, about 21 years old, in her uniform. Below, you'll see her a little more casual, outside of the barracks with her gigantic camera. She was a military photographer. I remember so well the brilliant flash of those cameras and the "whoosh" sort of sound the bulb made as it basically burned out. Imagine, each time you used a flash picture, you had to replace the bulb, and then you had to hide in the dark to change the film. She developed her own photos though, so at least we didn't have to wait.

This is one of the covers of the military magazine. My mom took the picture, plus that is her in the photo. Just think, that was Remembrance Day 55 years ago today.

Butch Cassidy?

Everyone has two sides of their family, well, really, much more than that, but it boils down to the maternal side and the paternal side. On my paternal side, there are soldiers back to the 1800's, who fought in every concievable war. That's the Irish side..."the Fighting Irish" isn't just a sports team! The other side, well, they apparently liked the Butch Cassidy personna! This is my great-great Grandfather, not a fighter, although his grandchildren (my mom and her brother) were military.

Nov 11/08

These are my Dad's medals, and below are my Grandfathers (my Dad's dad)

My great-uncles, (brothers) Both fought in WW1. My Grandfather fought in WW2 and my Dad was in the Golan Heights/Isreal/Egypt. My uncle was in Cyprus, my great-great Grandfather was in the Boer War, in South Africa.

Kinda sad....

Someone else who was feeding the goose with the broken wing decided to go to the local newspaper to see if there was something that could be done...someone who could help the poor thing. The conservation officer was contacted and so was raptor rescue, but sadly enough, there was nothing they could do. Or perhaps I should say that there was nothing they wanted to do. Unless, they added, it was a rare bird, such as one of the trumpeter swans that also stops here. So, in their wisdom, they decided to go to the park the very next day and "dispose" of the goose. I am quite sure that it was a very fast and painless death, and seeing as how the goose was tame, he probably wasn't afraid either, but the whole thing breaks my heart. And to make it worse, upon checking his little goose body to see what caused the injury, a .22 bullet was found in his wing. And...if that isn't bad enough, the day after this, no less than FOUR people phoned the newpaper, saying that they lived on farms or acreages and had room for an injured goose, especially a tame one. Too late at this point, but isn't that typical bureaucracy...jump first and investigate later? I just found the whole affair very sad.

Probably not a good idea....

So I was wandering through Wal-Mart yesterday, in the baby section. I have a new niece and I was looking for something cute to purchase and I came across the onesie's. They are the handiest things...instead of little undershirts creeping up and getting all tangled, they stay nice and smooth and crinkle free; they're cool and comfy, and it made me wonder why they don't make onesies for adults? No underwear "ride-up", no panty-line, how unfair that they only come in miniscule sizes.



Mind you, when a baby wears one, people grab their thighs and say: "oh...look at those precious thighs, all chubby and sweet...look at her little arms and all those extra folds, why she even has them on her wrists...and could anything be more adorable than those double chins?"



I wonder if my friends would say that if I opened the front door wearing a onesie?

~I base my fashion taste on what doesn't itch.
~Gilda radner.

It's a Canadian thing.

Hockey. Who knew I'd ever end up such a fan? For my friends who read this blog who live in lands where there is no such national sport as hockey *Gasp!* this is a little idea of how silly we are sometimes. Our team colours are blue & white, so we therefore must dress in those colours.

One must also purchase the appropriate gear to wear as well.

Any friends worth having will also don the aforementioned apparel.

When the Ice score, we all stand and make a "chopping" motion and holler: "Ice! Ice! Ice!", thus the small double-headed axe in Tim's hand. Such is the life of a hockey fan. We sing songs like: "I wanna drive a Zamboni" and any Canadian, hockey fan or not, can recongnize the opening strains of the hockey night in Canada theme...Dah da DUH da Daaaaaaa!