Saturday, February 27, 2010

Joe and I went down to the cauldron today. It was 10:30AM on a Saturday morning and there were hundreds of people and a two hour wait to get to the unobstructed viewing platform. Not worth the wait so we just had to deal with across the street or fence views. (The photo above was taken through the fence gap.)

As we were walking to the cauldron area we came to the space between the Shaw building and the new Fairmont and caught our first view.

The word "wow" popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn't think that I would feel anything upon seeing it, but it was a sight to behold.

The masses moving along West Cordova were mostly Canadians, with quite a few Americans & smatterings of Italians, Poles & Russian soldiers/sailors. What struck me about the crowds wrapped up in their red maple leaves was the diversity. Every race, every shade within those races, accented English, accented francais. It was incredible to see the great mosaic that we talk about as a theory or an ideal laid out before me. Sikhs with red turbans and maple leaf pins, young Islamic women wearing white with red maple leaf hijabs, an American couple with their three kids in Team Canada jerseys, the gay couple wearing their rainbow Canada flags as capes.

While I don't even pretend to think that Canada is "post-racial" and that we're some awesome utopian land of equality, tolerance and fraternity, for 17 days in February, 2010 in Vancouver, BC - Canada was pretty okay with being Canada - and the definition of the Canadian soul as something that it is, rather than something it is not, became just a little less vague.

For now. Come Monday we'll be back to our hand wringing, navel gazing selves when the UK Guardian spits it's last bit of vitriol our way over the closing ceremonies.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

My MS backpack.

I wanted to do a blog post about it, but it hasn't arrived yet.

Other than that I'm busy with hockey and hoping against hope that the HRT fixes my Premature Ovarian Failure soon.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Walk, walk, Fashion, baby.

This is my favourite piece from Alexander McQueen's Fall/Winter 09/10 collection. Fall/Winter fashion has always caught my attention because the clothes, the creations, are more substantial. As with many of AMcQ's fashions, this one looks almost architectural; like it was constructed not sewn.

Seeing this brings tears to my eyes. There will be no more creations like this. No more substantial garments that are works of art. No more couture skulls and bones. No more high fashion trainers/running shoes.

I've battled depression pretty much my entire life and I understand deeply what it feels like to be in that pit of despair. I never had the means or the bravery to do it and that's why I am still alive.

It bothers me, deep down inside, when people of talent, promise and riches kill themselves. If Lee McQueen can't find a reason to live through another day, where the hell am I suppose to get the motivation from? I don't have talent or prospects and I'll be lucky if I can still work a crappy 40k a year job 5 years from now, yet I manage to find *something* to get out of bed for. That reason might be one of obligation to the man I married, but its a reason.

It just seems like such a waste. People like me should kill themselves, not people like Alexander McQueen. He had so much more to give the world than I could ever hope to. He was special.

And now he's gone and I'm left here thinking, what is this all for anyway?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Football and frustrations.


There, now that I've got that out I will continue. My comments will be brief.

I am trying to remember how to sew. It is not going well.

I have a great project complete except for the sewing. Drives me bonkers when I can't move forward with a project because of some crazy logistical problem.

Three more in the works, which is awesome.

I am also trying to figure out what to make for my friend Jackie. My creative juices are not flowing.

I will figure out something.

Thursday brings my appointments with the gynecologist to try to solve my chemotherapy induced menopause issues. Friday brings me to the urologist to see if me having to pee 3,058,673 times a day is related to the menopause or the MS- because apparently it is one or the other.

MS does indeed suck.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

What they don't tell you.

I've been waking up every morning and not recognizing the face staring back from the mirror.

My physical being has gone rogue. I don't recognize my face, my hair or my body. My bodily functions are alien to me.

I cried in public today. That's really not my style. I haven't cried in some time and to do it in public just made it more like a humiliating kick in the teeth rather than the painful punch in the gut it is in private.

The MS people talk a lot about symptoms and how to manage them but they don't tell you *why* you just want to stay in your house and never come out. It's not just the symptoms, I am now convinced of this.

It's the little embarrassments. It's the constant mental calculations of where you can go because every trip is a metric of distance + time + seating + washrooms. It's about the little stumbles, the lack of fine motor skills making it difficult to hold a pen, the small inabilities that just build up and up and up until the degradation brings you down and down and down.

It's the stares from strangers when they don't understand why half way down the block my left leg starts to drop or why I lose my balance trying to negotiate a curb. I'm not drunk and I'm not faking in order to ask for a seat on the bus.

It's all my old clothes and shoes mocking me from the closet. It's my wedding photo staring back at me on the wall. It's Marg's boots, Dianna's corsets, Sam's travels and Laurie's job.

But the thing that made me cry today was Speechless

Could we fix you if you broke?
And is your punch line just a joke?


I do not have enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I want to in a day AND play Mafia Wars, FarmVille and FishVille.

Something's gotta give and it will probably be Mafia Wars and FishVille.

I'm still stitching, but it is going painfully slow because my job and my virtual mobstering, farming and aquarium-ing keep me from it.

Damon offered up a great line for a new pillow and I am trying to figure out how to make it artistic.

I have a long time internet friend who's coming to visit in May and I love her eleventy for picking Vancouver, BC, Canada as her holiday location. I have another long time internet friend who is coming in July and I love her eleventy as well.

10 days until this place really sucks.

Too bad there isn't a god to have mercy upon our souls. That would be useful at a time like this.

MS is now just this never ending annoyance that just grates on my last nerve day in and day out and then gets followed by a hot flash. It's awesomesauce.

I need more hours. I need more will to live. I need a less sucky job.

Dear my last two fingers on each hand:

I need for the feeling to either come back or stay gone. This variable level vibrating nerve thing you've got going on really drives me to distraction.

Best regards,


I am weirded out by one of the definitions for my first name in the Urban Dictionary.
I want Amazon to ship my stuff because their shipping date estimate expires in one hour.