NO-vember

Today as I write this Ryan is on his way back to Newfoundland after fulfilling (within 5 weeks!)
a three year contract with Lester B. Pearson United World College. Three years ago he went there
as their eco-guardian/lighthouse keeper for Race Rocks. Anyone who has no idea what or where
Race Rocks is should take a look around this website:www.racerocks.com It is indeed a beautiful
place to be. I am pretty sure I couldn't live there for three years, but Ryan has always been a
tenacious free spirit and once a decision is made he will see it through!! And he did! In fine style!
Race Rocks is better for having played host to him! And I know the lightkeeper's house is a
WHOLE lot better than it was when he moved in! With pride I have followed his adventures,
exploits and accomplishments. But isn't that exactly what you'd expect from a momma who has
always been her son's biggest fan? I am happy to have him home even if it is just for two short
months before him and his lady love go to the Phillipines on yet another adventure!


There was another November, 8 years ago when there was a lot of flying happening in Ryan (and
Erin's life). First to Ottawa to celebrate their grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary, then back
to school and then home again to say good bye to their Dad. Such a sad time in their lives. In
OUR lives. Divorce when there are no children has to be a little like severing a business
partnership. "We had some good times but they're over now. Good-bye." But a divorce when
there are children means that no matter how animostic the parting, if you are human at all you'll
want what's best for the children so you will cooperate to the point of being bent into pretzel
shapes to make good on that pledge. You will share special events in your child's life whether
that means looking at each other across the table at Thanksgiving or being in same auditorium as
they perform in a Christmas Concert. You share and share as much alike as is humanly,
humanely possible. And in the end one of you will be left behind. Hopefully it will be when you're
both in your 90's and your great-great grandchildren are asked to sing at your funeral... but
inevitably one of you will really and truly become a single parent. And you don't have to share
anymore.


Well let me tell you, this is one woman who wishes she could share. It hasn't been an easy 8
years. I miss his quirky messages on the phone, his levelheaded responses to teenage angst and
acting up. I miss being able to say, "Ask your Dad." And I miss how he balanced my sometimes
neurotic over-protectedness. I miss my children's dad. And that isn't a bad thing. Missing him has
made me be a better person. I am grounded and I know what is important in life. Missing him has
made me try and be a better mother, tho' I have probably failed miserably in my attempts. I keep
trying. I can't be as funny or as quirky as he was. Or as reasonable and tolerant as he was. And I
don't think Ryan and Erin expect me to be. I know that for now just "BEING" is enough security
for them as they have both found love in their lives and are embarking and re-embarking on their
career journeys.

Two years ago I wrote the following and it is as true today as it was then.

November
by Lori O'Brien on Tuesday, November 17, 2009 at 2:36am
I wrote this tonight after talking to Ryan:

November is the time of year when the winds turn cold and demanding and begs you to pay
attention to their force - their strength. November strips all colour from the the trees and turns
those colours to brown crinkled bits of what used to be. November trees sway and bend doing
their dance of mourning, beckoning you to look and never understanding why you who just
weeks before stood in open mouthed wonder at their magnificence now regard them with such
disdain.

November is that time of year wedged between the bright days of fall and the clear shining days
of winter. Gone is the flurry of excitement of new beginnings at school and the comfort of family
sharing turkey and prayers of thanksgiving. Not yet do you feel the tug of Christmas excitement
and the anticipation of the jolly old man working his magic in your heart, no matter your age or
expectations. November is the transition of one season to another, however bleak that transition
may be.

November shouts at you to remember.Remember the bright days that have gone before, now just
a fading memory. Remember the fallen - the fallen leaves, the fallen soldiers, the fallen.
Remember the pain of letting go. November commands you to remember the desperation, the
anguish, the agony of being helpless and tormented and despairing. The pain stays firmly in
place, after years of remembering. The pain still there. Maybe not as sharp and wretching, but
unbearable just the same. Changing and evolving, but never easing.

November gives you time. Long evenings and slow starting mornings. Solitude and aloneness in
which to think. All the days of all the other months tumble by in rapid succession. You live those
days as they are given, but November turns you backward with your what ifs, and whys and if
onlys. November lays your questions at your feet and you're forced year 4, year 5, year 6 to wish
and wonder.

No answers.
No do overs.
No going back.
No comfort.
November.


I love you my babies,
Momma/Mama
XO

So as icy, windy November whips through our lives one more time, I hope they know that as

always, if they need me, I am here with lots of love to give... in Lethbridge.

A Little Less to Love in Lethbridge

Weigh-In time! But before we get there let's have a little discussion about distorted body image. Every test on every web site that I can find that offers such "tests" tells me that I hate my body. Some go so far as to tell me that I have a Disorder known as Body Dismorphic Disorder loosely translated as body hatred.

Did any of the tests ask me if I thought I had attractive features? Or are there parts of my body that I like? Or if not wearing revealing clothing has anything to do with age appropriateness? Not a one. They asked if I'd feel uncomfortable exercising in a group of attractive fit people. DUH! I felt uncomfortable last night doing stretches and learning a few exercises at TOPS amongst people who are struggling just as much as I am to shed a few pounds!!  They asked if I feel uncomfortable trying on clothing in a store. I HATE shopping. I wouldn't care if I was a size zero with Jennifer Lopez's bank account behind me... I would be uncomfortable. Period.

But back to the dismorphia... The first time I heard about such a "disorder" was on the Rosy O'Donnell show a few years back when she said that she doesn't see what other people see when she looks in the mirror. Like me, Rosy had bounced around a bit, losing weight and looking in the mirror and still seeing the body that she had left behind. Or gaining the weight and thinking, 'Gee I don't look too bad...'  It is not a fun affliction. Just as anorexic people can't see how thin they are, I couldn't see how big I was/am. It is ONLY through photographs that I can see myself. Mirrors are as distorting for me as if I was in a funny house full of distorting mirrors. And sadly for me, after a full year of working at this, I still see the same shape and size as I was 12 months ago. OK I know my ankles aren't nearly as pudgy as before. And when I look down when I am on the treadmill I now see my knees where a year ago I saw belly doing a lovely little jiggle joggle... but mirrors? Not my friends.

OK... as the ticker above my blog entry now reveals, I have lost, misplaced, dropped, shed, taken off, eradicated 26 pounds from my frame. Holy Butter Cream Icing! 26 POUNDS! I can't lift 26 lbs.  Well I can, but not easily! And I surely can't carry it for long! But my body was carrying it. Under protest! My knees creaked, my back hurt, my heart pounded and my lungs were asking what the heck I was doing to them... and that was just bringing in the groceries from the car!

The ticker tells a story... a journey. At times I thought it was a lost cause but I've made it this far. Another year will tell another story. I have 44 weeks of weigh-ins before Ryan and Raisa marry in August. That's another opportunity for the camera to tell me that I am doing OK on this journey. Until then I'll just forget about the  mirrors and remember that "Eating Less, Moving More and Drinking Lots "(of water!) is getting me to where I need to be.  I probably still won't enjoy putting on a swimsuit, trying on clothes or exercising amidst the athletic types, but I will be loving the Lori that emerged along the way to being a little less of me to love!

Suitcases

There have been a lot of suitcases in my life this summer. Not the same suitcases packed and unpacked over and over, but rather a collection of suitcases that were all unique in design but shared a kindredness. Owned by many different people, mostly weighing below the 50lb airline rule, there were backpacks, and duffle bags, soft sides and wheelers, black, blue, green and one huge yellow crate-like thing that  makes a great seat, but can't be used when flying because the damn thing weighs too much empty!

My husband says I am the most curious person he knows. No, he doesn't think that I am odd ( well maybe he does a little). He means that I am curious about things, people, places, thoughts, dreams; all the myriad objects and intangibles that make up my world! And suitcases make me very curious! Of course I know that they belong to the people who have packed them. I don't go rifling through their belongings seeking answers to the questions that pop into my mind uninvited (but invasive nevertheless).  But still I do wonder what the suitcase might hold, especially now with the one bag/50lb rule imposed upon the suitcase's owner. What did they deem important to carry with them? What process did they follow when choosing the items that were left behind.

I think I know where this mini-obsession with suitcases comes from. As a small child, my mother and I travelled on a fairly regular basis back and forth between home and St. John's for my medical appointments. I can remember being in Lethbridge train station watching the baggage handler (steward?) take suitcases out of the train's baggage car before lifting our bags into the car. There was a feeling a little kin of panic inside me that modern day psycho-babble might refer to as "separation anxiety".  And yet I wondered even at the young age of 4 what the other people were carrying. Were their items more interesting? Would I want to trade my tiny bag for that big black one over there? Or would I be disappointed with the items I had traded for?

And then there was the big leather suitcase that my Dad used. A construction worker who traveled all over the province and in hard years to other parts of Canada to do what he did best. Drive a huge road construction machine and help build highways, roads, airstrips. If he were going for a long trip the suitcase would be stogged tight with nearly everything he owned and he'd walk out to the driveway, leaving the most important thing he owned back in the house with us. His love.  But if it was just a short trip of one or two weeks ( how we loved the summers when he was home EVERY weekend!), Mom would pack the necessary work clothes, white t-shirts, grey work socks, handkerchiefs (red and blue printed kind, not those fancy white ones - they were kept for home!), and she'd also fold and include some plaid shirts for wearing in the evening after he "got a wash". Utilitarian things for a very utilitarian two weeks away.  And then if she'd been able to find some by trading with neighbours, she'd tuck in a few paperbook novels. Zane Grey. A good Western to read before turning in for the night.

Suitcases. I bet you all have one or two in a storage space somewhere in your home. Haven't looked in them for years, right? Erin and I opened a lot of boxes, tubs and suitcases when we cleaned out our basement in August. Somethings that were precious 8 years ago, were now deemed to be disposable. Sheet music for every song the Die Tichslers ever played had lost its poignancy. Christmas ornaments were sorted and culled and smiled over. We repeated the mantra, "Thank you for being in my life, GOOD-BYE" over and over and over. In one small suitcase we found every hair accessory that Erin had ever owned as a child. "little princess", "Mommy's Girl" and "ERIN" painted on little plastic bits and now sitting in a suitcase. All but forgotten. Unicorns and ribboned delights, every colour of the rainbow barrettes, buckles and bobbles, purchased to match her perfect little outfits. Somethings are just to precious to get rid of! The suitcases were emptied, the items tagged for sale, trashed or in some special cases (like hair accessories!) re-stored for posterity!

Suitcases. We have all had a few in our lives. I left for university with my three piece hard-sided burnt orange suitcases filled with practically everything I owned. I couldn't put the contents of two drawers into those bags today, but back then times WERE simpler and our wardrobes reflected that. And just like over the years our wardrobes have expanded so have all the emotional things that is referred to collectively as "our personal baggage" that we carry along with us on our journey through life. And while the airlines are limiting the amount of "stuff" we can travel with, there is no such agency looking after regulations to  help us limit the emotional weight that we drag through life with us. I  met a couple recently who have seemingly lived a charmed life. Married (they were high school sweethearts) and been together for 30 years. Good jobs. Two kids, both married and living in the same town. Grandkids, one of each. Both sets of parents, healthy and well and living in their own homes. No medical problems. Wow! Would I like to trade MY big black baggage for their tiny bags? Not a chance in hell! Just because I've led a less than charmed life, doesn't mean that I'd change a single item that I have packed in my big black bag. All the sadness and strife has made me who I am today. And no one has dictated that my baggage be what it is. I am loved and I love... deeply and without regret. I sleep at night. And I have learned to cope in hard times. Smile and be happy during good times.I have learned to let things go...  Because even though there are people who will offer you items to pack in your bag, it is your choice whether or not you accept them and how far you're willing to drag it along with you.

Today as I type this, the world is waking up to the 10th Anniversary of 9-11. And while media people talk of hope and resilience  and I like the most of the rest of the world, feel the pain all over again, I am also reminded of all the losses and gains of my own life during the past ten years. And to each and everyone of you, may today be  a day when you are able to open your suitcase and let a few things go. Be thankful for your own life, mourn your losses and make room in that  baggage for love, hope and compassion. I wish you all, peace and love... from Lethbridge.

So where's DUSO when you need him!?

""Hey DUSO Come on out..."  Anyone remember the song, the dolphin and what the acronym stands for? I was thinking about doing a little contest to see what I'd get back, but anyone reading this can in a few short seconds and the help of Google, find out and report that DUSO stands for "Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. I capitalized that part for a reason that will become apparent later in this blog entry.

Right around the same time as I started teaching "regular" classes DUSO was packed away never to be seen again. In the Kindergarten classrooms around the province you might find in the puppet basket  a ratty, old, blue fake-fur Dolphin puppet but in all likelihood no one can even remember his name.  But to teachers and students through the 70's and 80's, DUSO was synonymous with religious education in the Integrated Schools of this province. There were several other puppets ( but none as loved as DUSO) and lots of colourful posters, taped stories ( and we all know how much fun it is to have another voice besides the teacher reading the book!) and a scripted lesson plan for the teacher to follow. DUSO made extensive use of listening, discussion, and dramatic play to focus on feelings, communication, and problem solving. Activities include stories, guided fantasies, puppetry, role play, and music.  In today's pedagogical jargon: It taught children how to deal with conflict resolution, promoted positive self-esteem and to not bully.



It may not have been the greatest program in the world, but I can guarantee you that if you were to sing the first line of his opening song, "Hey DUSO come on out"... to anyone who had been lucky enough to meet him during those decades, it will evoke just as strong memories as "Dick and Jane" evokes for those of us who learned to read during the 50's and 60's!!


What replaced it? Well my memory may be a little rusty, but I am pretty sure that the entire concept of teaching children lifeskills and academic skills and how to behave towards other children and people in their lives, was replaced by a "child-centered" learning approach. Let them learn what they want to learn. Let them write the way they want to write.  Let them read when they are ready to read and spell the way they want to spell. Say negative things to them in a positive way...  It was CHILD- centered and throughout the classrooms in the province, three words became the focus of not just a cute little theme in their Language Arts program, but of their entire education experiences. ALL ABOUT ME.


All about me. Children were encouraged to write about their favorite things, colours, games, pets, pasttimes. A really skilled teacher could sneak in a writing topic once in awhile such as "My Best Friend" or "My Mom". But in most cases this would degenerate into a list of all the things the friend or the parent could, would or should do to enhance the child's personal existence.


Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. How much we need those last two words. Empathy. Compassion. Look up Empathy in Wikipedia... a short entry but scary when you consider what it could mean to generations of children when it is absent from their lives. Now add to the mix, over indulgent parents who fail to provide strong personal development guidance and the ALL ABOUT ME syndrome gets stronger and more prevalent. 


So when I see little kids excluding other children from "The COOL Club" or pre-teen boys bossing their mothers around at the mall,  high school kids cursing and swearing outside the local convenience store, university students who feel hard done by because they have to finish their assignments on time ( and not copy it from the internet), graduates who groan and whine because they found a job in their field and now SHOCK, GASP HORROR.. they have to work, it all makes perfect sense. DUSO has not come out for a very long time. I sincerely believe that it's time for the little guy be reinstated and children  taught the value of respecting themselves AND OTHERS, tolerance of the people in their lives, developing empathy towards the people who may not be as high on the ladder of life as they are, and the benefits of hard work whether in school, at home or on the job.


We'd all be a whole lot happier if we did.


HEY DUSO, come on out. Hey, DUSO, come on out. 
We like to listen and talk with you. 
We like your songs and your stories too. 
Hey, DUSO, come on out.


And until DUSO does make a comeback. I'd like to ask all the parents who read this to do one simple thing... At least once a week love your child enough to say NO and mean it!!  The real world is going to come knocking someday and you owe it to your child and yourself to prepare him or her for it.

Losing it in Lethbridge!?

Last night was backwards weigh-in at the TOPS chapter I attend here in Lethbridge. I, like all the other members, anxiously awaited the weight recorder's announcements! AND I lost! Yet again, my weight was lower than it had been the week before. Then joy of joys, when the biggest losers for the month of May were announced, my name was called. SECOND! Yipeeeee!  And I was handed a lovely little charm to acknowledge this achievement!

As predicted the losses have been miniscule at times. Exactly how much is .2 of a pound? .2 is really 1/5th and there are 16 ounces in a pound. 16 divided by 5 is 3.2ounces? Dispute my math if I am wrong but I am thinking that 3.2ounces would be correct.  Well I went in search of 3.2 ounces and found this:
A kiwi that weighs EXACTLY 3.2 ounces. I am sure if there was cyst on your body that was the size and weight of a kiwi fruit, you'd be happy to see it gone? So all those miniscule amounts are really something afterall! I shall not be scoffing at .2 any more let me tell you!
Of course the visual image of a block of  Crisco shortening (1 lb) is even better, but I can deal with kiwis!

SO how have I done with losing the weight? I am just one block of Crisco (or 5 kiwis) away from 20 lbs!!!! Anyone who has lost weight before can testify that 10 lbs allow you to go down one size in clothing. I recently did some alterations on some capris I had for summer wear and actually cut 5" off them. NO not the length! The measurement around the hips and waist.


It still bothers me a tiny bit that NO ONE has mentioned my weight loss. Not one single soul has said, "Wow, you're looking good!!"  Insert a big sigh here!! But that's OK. I understand. The next 20 lbs and people will start to notice. Not just right now. For now all the rewards and applause will have to be intrinsic ( besides the invaluable support I get from the TOPS members!!). I know when I go shopping I am just 10 lbs away from shopping in the "normal" sizes. I know I can run up and down those basement stairs and not get winded. I know that eating healthy has lowered the counts on things like blood glucose and cholesterol! And for now, losing it in Lethbridge, is not at all a rewardless task. My body notices and thanks me everyday. And that means everything!

PS...  Last night's loss was equal to 4 kiwi fruit... I have new respect for that little fruit!

Gus - We Love you Little Buddy!

I wrote recently about Erin's trip to Ottawa to sing on Parliament Hill during the Unisong Festival in July 2001. John and Ryan drove to Ottawa to see her perform and on the way home ( Erin drove with them while I flew home) they stopped as they often did in Granby to visit an old friend. The phone rang here just as they were due to leave Granby and Erin's sweet little voice came over the line, "I just saw the cutest little puppy at the pet store in Granby. He's a little schnauzer, just like Tara. PLEASE Mom can I have him. Dad will pay for him if he can live at your house." And in true Lori fashion, my resolve to NEVER GO THERE AGAIN crumbled. And "Logan" began his journey home.

For the next few days I wondered if I had really and truly lost my mind. Erin HAD a dog at her Dad's place, a lovely little apricot terrier-poodle by the name of Brady. Sweet dog just barely 2 years old that I frequently baby-sat when John was out of town. Each and EVERY time that dog left my doorstep I breathed a sigh of relief. And here I was sentencing myself to 24-7 of being a dog owner!!? Tara had lived to be 13 before cancer struck her. So Erin would be graduated from university, be working and possibly married with children before this dog would finally leave my doorstep! Insanity in its finest hour!



Now since I've mentioned Tara, let me describe this little bundle of joy. An angel of a dog if there was ever one! She didn't bark for her first year of life and her first bark startled her more than it did us. She could do all kinds of tricks though her cutest one was running down the hallway, lying down with her paws in front of her and when you called "Tara, SCAMPER!" She'd propel herself down the hallway on her belly at break neck speed. She was pleasant, happy and the perfect dog for Ryan and Erin's childhood years. She loved water and her baths, would lie or sit still for hours while she was being groomed, attacked the water sprinkler with glee each and every time it was turned on and slept on Ryan's bed from the time she was a puppy ( and he was 3) right up until the end at the gracious age of 13. The perfect dog.

Enter Gus - his name was changed somewhere early  in New Brunswick when the family conference decided that Logan was not matching this puppy's personality. Logan was definitely a name for cheerful, upbeat puppy. Gus was neither cheerful nor upbeat. He needed another name. Something that went with grumpy, gloomy, cranky... and my apologies to any "GUS" people out there, but Gus was the choice. Excellent choice. Was he taken from his mother too soon and this was the cause of his morosity?  Did he come from a long line of grumpy schnauzers? Did he just not "fit" with us? Whatever the root cause, he was definitely a Gus. We jokingly referred to him as King Gustavo, as he seemed so aloof and above it all! It was as if you could see him thinking, "Some day my true family will come and take me away from all of this peasantry!"

He was a darling looking little guy. All black where Tara had been a steely grey. His first haircut was indeed a professional job and the photographs from back then look so cute! He was a determined little guy, who tackled lots of things that lesser dogs would shirk away from and somehow despite all of his quirks, we found ourselves very quickly getting attached to him and vice versa.  Wherever we were he wanted to be there too. He'd come and sit on someone's foot the whole time keeping his back turned and avoiding eye contact. He was easy to train and quickly learned to do just as many tricks as Tara... but NEVER did he scamper. That was a trick for happy dogs. Not Gus!

Top Dog!

Well the years just seemed to tick by. At times there was just me and him here in this house. There is something comforting about another heartbeat in your home even if he had a nasty habit of wanting to go out to pee at 3am. He was there barking like crazy and rattling his bowl for food when I came home. He kept me company at night when he curled up at my feet in bed while I watched comedy re-runs. He was there to do jumping jacks at the door when I'd say, "Leash!?",  prodding me to take walks when the lazy Lori would have rather read a book. Gus was my dog  and he loved me unconditionally. Now I am no fool, I know that he used me. Used me for his own selfish gains. He LOVED his walks where he could pee on every road sign and sniff at every piece of trash along the highway! He knew the choice was either curl up on my nice comfy bed or be snobbish and go sleep on a blanket on the cold floor. And his high pitched greetings when I came through the door were purely designed and executed to make me feel guilty about leaving him in the house all day while I worked! How dare I!!?  Well let me tell you Gusser buddy, ours was a symbiotic relationship. You might have used me but I sure as heck got a whole lot back from you too whether you knew it or not!!

If I searched all the schnauzer world over I don't think I'd find another Gus. He was loyal to who he loved and sometimes who he loved didn't love him back!  He had no need at all to ever befriend another canine, preferring to pretend he lived in a parallel universe where other dogs didn't exist.  Like all schnauzers he made strange vocalizations that were somewhere between a growl, a whine and actual words and he used his "sounds" to express a whole range of emotions from pleasure to displeasure! He was stubborn beyond belief and would sit with his eyes averted whenever  he knew someone wanted him to do something that didn't suit him at that moment. He could never be fed in a metal bowl, because his dog tags would clink against the bowl and he'd stand back and bark at the offending bowl. His appetite was legendary and for awhile we considered changing his name to Hoover; he was that efficient at keeping crumbs off the floor! After all how many dogs do you know that would swallow a sewing needle just because the thread seemed interesting?  I could write a book about this dog!

I guess you can all see where this leading? Last summer I noticed a swelling in his groin. A tumour, just like the one that took our beautiful little Tara-doggy. And we discussed it. Gus despite his attempt to appear aloof and independent, was actually a very needy, high-strung dog. He was approaching his tenth birthday and I knew the outcome of any surgery would be just as Tara's surgery had turned out. The cancer once contained inside that sac, would race through his body and kill him. I couldn't put him through the pain and anxiety of surgery and then have the same outcome. No surgery for Gus. A painful decision, but the quality of his life was still so good. And was right up until a month or so ago, when he started to breathe harder, or he seemed to find it harder to jump up on a chair. He slept longer and was no longer interested in going outside.

Now something I didn't tell you about Gus is that he LOVED tools. If a tool kit was opened in this house, his little black schnauzer nose was stuck in it. We referred to him as "The Foreman".  He'd follow a repairman around the house and plant his substantial backside next to the tool kit and stay there until the kit was closed and the repairman was leaving. On Wednesday of this week, a man who had done a lot of work here for us came to check on a leaking pipe, and Gus lovingly followed him and his tool kit to the basement but only made it part way down the stairs and couldn't come back up. He sat panting. And I had to carry him back upstairs. The time had come. When the foreman could no longer do the job he so dearly loved to do, the time was here.

I pitied the poor girl who answered the phone at the vet's office. How many sobbing women does she have to deal with each  month? I knew Paul would have made the call for me, but my heart couldn't back down now. If I had loved Gus enough to welcome this grumpy little  puppy into my home 10 years ago, I had to love him enough to ease his pain and let him go.


And if Gus could have spoken, here's what I think he would have said: What a great life I've had. Never been hungry, cold or mistreated. Had them wrapped around my finger right from the start. I've sniffed a lot of people in my time and I am pretty sure I ended up with the best family a regal and sophisticated dog like me could have had. Oh I know they tried to bring other dogs in here, but I am still the King. Brady thought he was boss when he came to live here in 2003, but I just let him think that! And that Sheltie that they brought here in 2005? What a joke he is! Shedding his fur all over the place! Can you say "ALLERGY ALERT!"? 

Ryan? I know I could never replace Tara in your heart, wouldn't have even tried. So long buddy. I'll miss your visits and how happy you make Mom whenever you're here.  Erin, you know I forgive you for all the ins and outs you've had in my life. I know you had to go and do the things you had to do. Even though I growled when you scooped me up and swung me around, that was my favorite part of all your visits. I knew that Paul O'Brien character was going to be a real softy. I sat up on the arm of the sofa and chaperoned one of their first dates and I KNEW he'd be mine! He loved me and if you get a chance, make sure he knows that I loved him too!    Well I guess that's it for me... oh yeah... Mom?... Thanks for saying yes to Erin.

Good-bye my sweet Gus. I am gonna miss your grumpy face.  Thank YOU for the memories.

 Gus/ Gusser/ Guster/ Gussy/ King Gustavo/ Hoover/ Little Buddy/ The Foreman/Yippy of the Yippy, Yappy and Crappy Trio/ Barker Brother #1/ Best Damn Schnauzer in the World!
                                              May 25th, 2001 - May 20th, 2011

PS... Finn misses you.

A Confession...

Yes you read it correctly... I have to confess something! I am NOT really from Lethbridge! My first boyfriend was from Lethbridge but as we went through university, it was never our intention to live in Lethbridge. There was a whole big world out there and we were going to see it all! Sadly that wasn't to be. My first job, however WAS in Lethbridge at  L.R.Ash Elementary in 1978. A few years later when I met the father of my children and my first husband, he was living in Lethbridge and when we got married I moved here. We decided to find a place of our own ( the purple, green and blue bathroom of the church provided house just wasn't doing it for me!) and we were soon viewing and making offers on the real estate of Lethbridge. 29 years later I am still living in the house that we bought that year. When Paul and I met, I figured our relationship was doomed. I thought he'd never want to leave Clarenville and I knew I wasn't leaving this house, but he fell under the spell that is Lethbridge's charm and he's been happily ensconced here for almost seven years!

But if you were to ask anyone in Lethbridge (over the age of 50) who I am, I pretty sure they'd first tell you that I am NOT from Lethbridge and then tell you that I live  "in on the highway in Gerald's house". In Gerald's house. Not in the house that Gerald built. Not the house that Gerald used to own. Nope I live in Gerald's house. Kind of ya there, Buddy! Letting me live here all those years and never collecting a penny in rent!
But I guess small towns are like that!

I am also pretty sure that they'd also tell you that I am a teacher. AM not WAS. Most people are still surprised to hear that at the tender age of 52, I will soon be retired for 3 years. And that's really what this blog entry is about... the love that so many people have had for a wooden two-storey school on the hill that so many people equated with Lethbridge... L.R.Ash Elementary.

The school got its name from one of the carpenters who was working on its construction when he was killed in a traffic accident on the TCH bringing back a load of supplies from St, John's. I think the school board at the time showed a whole lot of caring when it decided that the school would carry his name. Thirty-three years later L.R.Ash Elementary closed its doors and was torn down. The new area high school was built behind "Ash" and the elementary children transferred to the school "around the bay" in Musgravetown.  All decisions that were made on a fiscal and statistical analysis of what was best for the area. But no one asked our hearts how we felt about losing that building. And let's just say it was a sad and heart wrenching process from the culling of the library books (thanks Karen for doing that!) to the stripping of the curtains from the windows to locking the door for the very last time.

Undoubtedly the entire area and all our children have  benefited  or will benefit from the modern, well-equipped school built near that site. The process of amalgamating the younger children into the other school was smoother, easier and far more enjoyable than any of us dared imagine! The children showed us the way. By the end of the first recess break there were new friendships made and we were on our way to forming our new family on a new hill in a new community.

But everything has a footprint. Whether it be on the earth or on our hearts, nothing exists and then ceases to exist without leaving behind something... a legacy, a heritage... vestiges of what used to be. So what did L.R.Ash Elementary leave behind? Everyone who had anything to with that school will have a different answer. You undoubtedly will find students that through its 33 years of operations who have terrible memories.There will be teachers who will be spoken of with anger and distrust. There will be people who have never given it a second thought since leaving school. But by and large the memories are good ones. I recently spoke to a woman whose children had attended L.R.Ash before I started working there. I said, "So your kids went to Ash?" And her reply was a wistful smile, a tilt of her head and a faraway look in her eyes, "Yes they did." She didn't have to say anything else.

I learned a lot at Ash through my years there. And I could fill many pages of pixels telling tales out of school!! But when I think of Ash in the bigger picture, I think of caring. I think of the unwritten but always followed rule for teachers following Parent-Teacher Interviews. "No one goes home until we can all go home."  I think of how at every concert, graduation ceremony or after-hours event, all the teachers showed up to help. I think of the students that each year brightened our lives and especially the ones that CRIED on the last day of the school year, every year. I think of the Parent Support Group that on that last day we were open, came to the assembly with plants for every teacher. "Bleeding Heart". I think they knew how we felt.

A legacy of love... that's what L.R.Ash Elementary left behind. And I think that Lawrence Robert Ash would be proud to know that his name was on a building that was so much more than just another school.










This weekend's High School graduation at Heritage brought us another year closer to the end of student memories of L.R.Ash Elementary. This year's graduates were Grade 2 students the year Ash closed.  Congrats Damon, Danielle, Jessica, Nicole and Sabrina, (and the other 7 children who are scattered across the province and the rest of the country!).
I  hope you have some cherished memories of your time at L.R.Ash Elementary.  I know I do!

Love and Healing...

My goodness it has been over a month since my last blog entry! Have you all forgotten me? Surely not...
I am, today on the Ides of March, feeling like I am coming out of a deep and long-lasting fog bank. I have been lethargic, jetlagged and somewhere along the way I picked up a nasty little bug that has caused, sorethroats (for a few days and then it disappeared), headaches (several times each day and not relieved by pain killers), and neuralgia that made me think I was going insane! Today I was back on the treadmill, did housework and made a lot of calls that I have been putting off since I got back from Spain. All before the clock struck 12 noon!

OH yes! Spain! The trip was wonderful. It is the third such jaunt that I have had with Missy Erin by ourselves.

The first was an August 1999 Caribbean cruise that was a gift from Erin's Great-Aunt Mary. Ryan had just found out that he was going to be going to Pearson College in Victoria B.C. on a scholarship for two years and the cool water cruise Mary and Erin were booked to go on was canceled when there was a fire aboard the ship. The alternative was a hot and very humid cruise out of Miami and Mary graciously offered me the option of taking her place. Erin was 14 and I a mere child of 40 as we embarked on that adventure! Erin, much more accustomed to traveling than I was, led the way and kept me calm and relatively cool for the entire trip. Though sitting for 6 hours in a stuffy plane on the tarmac in Toronto was not amongst my favorite experiences!

Here we are on the beach in St. Croix after our snorkelling trip where I thought every coral encrusted rock was an octopus! And yes I am just as hot as I look!

Two years later, Erin sang in a choir on Parliament Hill on July 1st and I guess technically that should count as our next adventure, but  she was one of 60 kids in that choir, she wasn't in my chaperone group and with the angst that 16 years old usually exhibit towards their parents, I'll just say... She has a beautiful voice and she did us proud!

Our next time together came just months after the passing of her cherished Dad. I travelled to British Columbia to visit her at her school. (The same school Ryan had attended  1999-2001). I saw her final recital for the music program there and we did some touring on the weekend while she was off class. It was bittersweet. I was happy to be there but she was still grieving so much. And no mother likes to see her children hurting. Especially when you are totally powerless to help. (Just weeks after coming home, I met Paul and the last 7 years (can you believe it!!??) have been very busy... hectic even.)

 

This is me at the base of Ryan's lighthouse on Race Rocks 2004. Erin and I were lucky enough to hitch a ride to the island with the scuba diving students.

When we talked about visiting Erin this year, Paul warned me that he had accreditation in February and probably wouldn't be able to go and as it happened Erin's only time off was smack dab right in the middle of Paul's most stressful time at work. I thought about going to France and sleeping in her apartment but trading Newfoundland in February for Northern France in March didn't appeal much!  Spain or Portugal were my choices! The local travel agent tried to find us a package but her suggestions were a little too rich for my blood, so I went looking online and found a great package of air, studio apartment (with Erin's accommodations included). And I skedaddled to Spain via a 15 hour stopover in Montreal. Don't ya just love how we have to travel one third of the way back into the North American continent before we can fly east!?

The people were friendly, the weather was incredible and the beachfront location was outstanding. The many restaurants in the area offered lots of choices for our meals and I walked until I got blisters on the bottoms of my feet! There's nothing sweeter in the world than reconnecting with your child, when the most pressing and stressful issue you have to deal with is... what time do we want to go out to eat?  We shopped and suntanned, I swam and she suntanned, we lay on the beach (highly over rated in my opinion) and we visited the zoo. We walked and walked and walked and on Sunday morning we paid the euros and took a carriage ride around the town.

It was a perfect trip.

We have both changed a lot since that visit in B.C. (and thankfully she has changed even more since that trip to Ottawa in 2001!). The sadness that surrounded her and weighed heavy on her shoulders in 2004 is still a shadow that crosses her beautiful face and  haunts her dreams. But now she sees the beauty in a sunrise and appreciates the world around her.She laughs freely and doesn't feel guilty at enjoying the lighter moments in life. She loves and allows others to love her. She can remember now and not cry.  And while she did a whole lot of this healing on her own I also like to think that maybe just maybe it had a little bit to do with all the love she has received including the...  Love from Lethbridge.

Snow Wonderful!

I am NOT a winter person. I've had my bouts throughout my 52 years when I tobogganed, skated on the bay, snowmobiled, cross country skied and even made a few snow angels in my day! But my favorite winter day up to this point has been a relaxing soak in the hot tub wearing my fur hat and watching the lazy snowflakes decorate the birches.

If you've read my blog, you will probably have made the connection between my "I hate exercise" blog and this one that's shaping up here! Winter is a LOT of work. Just getting dressed in the appropriate type and layers of clothing can make my pre-menopausal body break out in a cold sweat! To say nothing of the struggle of finding the winter gear in our over loaded basement and getting it all transferred to a vehicle so we can get somewhere to work some more muscles that are already strained from pulling on those blasted boots!

BUT! I think I have found a winter pasttime that I can actually enjoy! Right out the basement door and off into the winter paradise that we live in! I am utterly amazed.  In November we met Bob and Karen as we were shopping in Costco and I showed them our newest purchase... snowshoes!!  As polite as they are they didn't fall down on the concrete floor laughing with gusto and scorn! Thanks, guys! (They bought some too!) The snow shoes then languished in their pretty boxes for the rest of November and December and January... Paul took his for a spin the last weekend in January but mine were still shiny and new, wrapped in their protective shrinkwrap. And I could hear them calling my name... "Lori, Come get us!" WHAT? snowshoes calling my name? Chocolate, cookies, potato chips... all now banned from the house ... I was well accustomed to my name being called by these good buddies! But snowshoes? Really?

Well Saturday brought an emergency trip to Mercer's for good snowboots for both of us. I got Sorels and Paul bought the neatest pair of BOGs I have ever seen. Back to the house, suited up and out the basement door. Ratcheting bindings and adjustable heel straps! Easy! I took my ski poles with me for support but I didn't need them and stuck them in a snow bank and off through the back yard we went! Having spent a few winters cross country skiing I felt a little let down that I couldn't coast down the hills but I sure appreciated the claws under my snowshoes when I had to come back up the same dips!

The fresh snow was a lot of work, but much kinder on the joints than the hard packed snowmobile tracks. And I have to tell the truth, after 30 minutes of walking my mind and hips were begging for the return trip home! But, Sunday we went again! This time we were watching the skies very carefully and turned around and came back when the snow started to fall ... Couldn't get lost in our back yard could we? Wow, the woods have a lot of paths in them! When we walked down there in January, you could tell which trails were used, but with them all covered in snow and ski-doo tracks, it can be a little confusing for newbies like us!

Well it is Tuesday now and I am eagerly awaiting the weekend and some more exploring! Gotta love Lethbridge!

OH! And the weigh-in last night? I am down again! Not much but enough to make me smile!

Hitting a Wall

Yep, you heard it here first. I've hit a wall. I was up 1.5 pounds on Monday night and all around me in that room were people who were celebrating losses. Well, not everyone, it just felt that way, but I definitely wasn't celebrating. When I am up at the weigh-in I feel like I should  put on my coat, drop my dollar in the "fat can" and slink away. But I stayed and felt good for the member who gained 7 pounds over Christmas and now has it gone again. I clapped as the biggest loser for the week got her prize and was absolutely delighted that my best friend and tiny shrimp of a girl is now back in her leeway ( TOPS term for being in a range around her goal weight that the organization considers to be acceptable).

And was I motivated to do better?    ... not at all. I just feel defeated. Or I should say I felt defeated. Monday night, Tuesday, Wednesday and most of Thursday I was disgusted with myself. Then came a TV show about weight loss and I saw a 12 year old boy cry because he was overweight. In the program that followed he learned to ride bike for the first time and started with the help of his family to eat better choices in food. I felt a subtle shift in my attitude. Something I can't even put into words. But if I had to say anything it is that every week can't be a losing week. But every week I can work at it. I can exercise and eat healthy and stop the snacking (always been my downfall). And if there is a day I don't exercise or a meal that doesn't fit into the "healthy eating" description or there's a little too much giving into my cravings, it isn't the end of the world. Tomorrow might be worse but I can try to make it better!

I treadmilled (I know it isn't a real word but I like it) for 50 minutes this morning and did 100 crunches. There is now a love-hate relationship with the treadmill. I CANNOT STAND the first 10 minutes I am on that beast. There's no speed that I feel comfortable at and I am as grumpy as any woman can be. But then comes the sweet spot... the point when the stride is perfect, the music is exactly what I need and I finally get used to the trickle of sweat that is going down my spine. EWWWW! I hate sweating!  And when that spot kicks in, I can convince myself that I can go for one more song. Sure I can. I want to quit as I approach each 5 minute increment and then when I get there and the song isn't finished I tell myself that another 5 is fine. The music and the darling iPod is my salvation!

So here's my first blog entry for February! In 16 days I start the journey to Spain and my girlie!  Ryan and his sweet Raisa are in Hawaii today for a well-deserved holiday. Enjoy!

My beautiful children!

Progress Report!

Last night I had weigh-in at the local weight loss support group. But before that I think a little trip down memory lane would be in order.

I was a skinny little kid. Sickly and all skin and bones. Here's a photo of me on my first day of school. All 39 pounds of me.



I continued life as a thin person until I hit residence life at university. Freshman 15 found me and in my third year I joined Weight Watchers and lost 20 pounds. Still a small person at 156 pounds, losing the 20 pounds was EASY!

Fast forward ten years and two pregnancies and I was still doing pretty good with the weight. Three weeks after Erin was born I was 155 pounds.

Then came the yo-yo-ing. Up to 180 and down to 135. (1989) Up to 190 and stayed there for a while until 1999 when I started to lose weight again with the help of WW.  Here's a picture of me with
Mom in 2003  when I was once again in the 150's. BTW it was my idea that we celebrate Mom's 75th birthday by having family portraits done. Guess who was feeling pretty good about the way she looked?


The next couple of years are a blur: John's illness and passing and  Mom's sudden passing. And I found a lot of comfort during that time by going out to eat and trying to forget the sorrows and the pain. Paul moved in with me and he was a superb chef, we loved to eat and did so in style both at home and in restaurants.


When we went to Europe to visit Erin in 2007 I was acutely aware that my sister and I were the only two fat people in most places we went.  I was uncomfortable and couldn't keep up with everyone else. In Venice I honestly thought they would have to carry me back from St. Marco Square. My weight was for the first time in my life interfering with my enjoyment of life.
 
We came home from Europe and I tried SO hard to lose weight before the big wedding and did get down to 170 before the nuptials in August.

A happy time for all of us, the wedding was beautiful and our photos showed the pure delight and joy we were feeling.

We've been married 3 1/2 years and for EACH of the first 3 years I gained (don't you hate that word? Gained? Sounds like something you worked hard to achieve!) ... ok I PUT ON 17 pounds. So if you're doing the Math. I was in October of 2010, 220 pounds.



And this is probably THE most unflattering photo ever taken of me. So this will give you an indication of how dedicated I am to losing this weight. Forever!

All summer I talked about joining TOPS and when September came and went without me joining I wondered if I would join... but on Monday, October 11,2010 I joined. My progress has been by some people's standards, very modest. But on my scales this morning I am down 16 pounds. On their scales at night I am down just over 10. My pants are baggy. I can walk at a brisk clip on the treadmill for 30 minutes each day and I am truly feeling so much better about myself. AND I just went through the Christmas season and gained only 1.6 pounds after three weeks of festivities!! SOME person who lives in my house gained 13 lbs!!!

This week we have a sticker chart to fill out. We have to get at least 7/10 stickers each day.

1. Exercise 20-30 minutes per day (no problem!)
2. No night time eating (got it)
3. Drink 8 glasses of water a day. (easy)
4. Control portion sizes ( easy until supper time!)
5. Stay away from the N0-no food for the week (Milk shakes this week! EASY to avoid!)
6. Stay away from junk food (done! Cuz there's none here!)
7. Keep a food journal ( I HATE journaling!)
8. 7 servings of fruit and veggies ( Sure thing!)
9. 2-3 servings of calcium ( It will be an effort!)
10. Go to bed by 11pm each night ( Finally an excuse to go to bed early!

Anyone else out there want to do a sticker chart with me this week? I can see where it could really work!

Phyllis Schneck... Quilter

“Phyllis Schneck, quilter.”
That’s what the TV reporter said as he read a list of those killed in last week’s tragic shootings at an appearance by Rep. Gabrielle Giffords in Tucson, Arizona.
“Phyllis Schneck, quilter.”
As the reporter read her name, her picture appeared on the screen. It was the smiling face of the 79-year-old-grandmother and great grandmother.

I like millions of other North Americans, never met Phyllis Schneck but feel I know her just a bit. She sounds like so many women in the quilting world who value the art of hand-crafted items and are willing to give many hours to make beautiful things for others –even folks they’ve never met. I bet she had a great stash of fabric, a lovely little sewing area in her home and had put a smile on many faces through her life as a quilter. I picture her being just a tiny bit like my Mom, eager to share a technique learned at a Women's Institute meeting, delighted to chat about a project that you've taken on, pushing fabric into plastic bags as you go through the door, "Here take this. I'll never live long enough to use it."

I wonder what would be said about any of us if our passing was ever noteworthy enough to be announced on TV.  Retired teacher? Mother and Wife? Grumpy old woman? Quilter? All of the above? Maybe it won't get mentioned in my obituary but maybe oneof you out there who are out there reading this might be able to persuade the powers that be, to include the line, "We regretfully announce the passing of a crafty old woman..."

Now THAT would make me smile!

R.I.P Phyllis Schneck. And when you get to heaven, there's another Phyllis there you can sit and talk quilting with. Cuz I sure miss my chats with my momma.

Here's a picture of Mom with the three precious granddaughters, Erin, Valerie and Heather. Hoping at least one of them continues the quilting traditions that she inspired in all three of her daughters!

• 

Everything has a price...

Tomorrow I am parceling up a little bit of Lethbridge love and sending it off to my second cousin's granddaughter. She'll be one soon and while it is not a gift from me ( Her Nana commissioned it), it was sewn with love and I know her Nana loves her very much.  Yep, you guessed it... I made a quilt for her.

I get requests all the time to make quilts for people and I rarely turn anyone down, although as the time seems to be speeding up a whole lot and I am slowing down at the same rate, the tasks are getting more difficult. Picture this: Shopping to find the perfect fabrics; hours spent leafing through books and magazines and browsing websites to find the right pattern and then at least a hour studying the pattern to figure out how it all goes together and which fabric gets cut into what shapes; 2-3 hours standing at a cutting table using a rotary cutter and ruler; 12-24 hours piecing the top; another 2-3 hours cutting the backing, the batting and layering the three layers (top, batting and backing together; 4-10 hours sewing squiggly lines to keep the quilt together; 1-2 hours preparing and sewing the binding on by machine; and finally 1-3 hours hand sewing the binding to the back of the quilt. And THEN "selling" that quilt for the cost of the materials and maybe 50-60 bucks for my time!! At the top end I get maybe 3.00 a hour.

So believe me when I tell you, that what gets sent out in those boxes thru the mail, IS love... I love making them, and I love the joy I know they give to the people who have asked for them.

And any of you people who are ever given a handmade quilt I sure as heck hope you will remember reading this and acknowledge with a huge smile and a hug, that you really do appreciate the effort that went into making that treasure that you're now able to wrap around you!! Because even if the quilter is a totally unknown to you, you are still wrapping yourself in love.

And I guess that's the real reason that I will continue filling those boxes and making my trips to the post office! I am sending Love from Lethbridge!

And here's the room where all that love is made!

Exercising...

I was going to title this entry "a Love-Hate Experience", but truthfully? I probably will never love exercising. And any one who has around me in the last 10 years knows that I have the body to prove it!  But I also know that I have to lose weight if I am going to be around to enjoy old age. I know that diet alone will not remove the excess poundage. I know I am very unhappy inside of this body. AND I know that exercise is my ticket to freedom.

So with that in mind, I've begun a pilgrimage... on my treadmill. The music is downloaded to the iPod, the shoes are comfy, the water bottle full and off I go... And AMAZINGLY the music is what keeps me moving! I've downloaded music that reminds me of my children... "Slipping Through My Fingers" and  "Feet of a Dancer" for Erin and "Lighthouse Heart" and "Calypso" for Ryan. There are songs there that keep Paul close to my heart: "Dirty Old Town" and "Sweetest of All". Then there's a whole bunch like, "Time Don't Run Out on Me", "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet!" and "Rhythm of My Heart" - GREAT treadmill topics! Gotta love iPods!

So how am I doing? I am down 15 pounds since October and I can do 30 minutes before the old hip joints start to moan. Not a marathon runner yet, but you have to start somewhere!

And just to show how committed I am to this, here's a before picture of me. Not the most flattering picture in the world, but that's what BEFORE pictures are supposed to be!

A New Experience...

Blogging... seems like the whole world writes one. Some are followed and some are doomed to obscurity... lost in cyberspace. I seem to remember starting a blog once before but the passwords, blog name and even the host site were doomed to obscurity... lost somewhere deep in my grey matter!

2011 is going to be MY year! Not that the past 52 years of my life have been all bad! Not at all! But there are changes afoot for me!

• I began a weight loss journey in October and while the results thus far have been modest, it is nevertheless a start and I truly expect that I will do well with my fitness quest. Blog topic #1!
• I am taking a trip BY MYSELF to go meet Erin in Spain! Big quest for me. #2!
• Paul and I are going to be grandparents in May. A precious little bundle of joy! #3.
• My children may spend the last half of 2011 on the same continent, same country, same province and almost the same city! Exciting times as Raisa and Ryan move from B.C. and Erin comes home from teaching in France! #4

• And then there are all the ongoing things that make my life rich and full: My quilting and writing and making American Girl doll clothing; Paul's family visiting and us visiting them; our little paradise in Bay Bulls during the summer; substitute teaching; my sisters and their families; hiking; photography; and our heartfelt and entertaining conversations as Paul and I relax in the hot tub, in the screened gazebo or by the fireplace....

I think I'll finish this blog by showing you our fireplace mantel decorated for the winter. Christmas stuff all relegated to the basement and the snowmen and winter things all hauled out for another winter! Who cares that we have yet to see any snow here in Lethbridge! There's lots of love and that's what matters most to me!