A little urn for New Year's... *sniffle*

Well, so, on Thursday I picked up Panda's ashes from my vet, who will handle cremations through a private crematory in the area.

All that she was, my cobby barn moggy, fits into less than a coffee cup. I have to write names on the urns now, because they all look the same and the ribbon tying the inside bag on Panda's is the same colour as Lenny's. There are 3 of them here now... and I really don't know what to do.

My vet and I have both commented that we're not particularly sentimental, except when it comes to cats. Me, I don't truly have a belief in an afterlife, nor in religion, nor the idea that cemeteries are particularly "holy ground" - no more so than the rest of the Good Earth is, anyway. I don't visit graves, except random ones if I decide to walk through some of the lovely lands where the local departed are interred. I don't relish buying a vault for my cat-friends and leaving their ashes somewhere far away. I also can't think of anywhere I'd want them scattered - we've always been rental apartment dwellers and they have always been indoor cats. There's no yard or garden they loved to be in. And I can't even keep a potted plant alive to put them in that. If I did scatter them, and then changed my mind, I could not have them back, either.

Having a collection of tiny funeral urns as decor is not appealing in itself, but I have them for now. It seems just a bit too callous to have them sent off to mass cremation and landfill. I know they're gone. There's no mysticism to keeping the dust that remains near me, other than as a reminder of the sweet memories, along with their collars, favourite toys, and photos.

I think that's why the diamonds idea is the only thing that really appeals to me. It's not about thinking there's something of their essence left, it's about giving me a touchstone to keep me level through the grief. Something beautiful to reattach me to the beautiful creatures I've been fortunate enough to share some time with, even though they have gone now.

Oh well. Like I said before, if I'm ever stupidly rich...

For now, my dear Panda ov Toes is sitting with her mentors and good friends, Lenny and Lucy, quietly and unobtrusively on a shelf here. And we who are here, are looking forward now, to another New Year.

Random Acts of Kindness, and renewed faith in the Internet...

One of the few online recreational things I still pursue, sporadically, is participation in a couple of Usenet NewsGroups. Most newsgroups about 10 years ago began degenerating badly as spammers discovered ways to flood them with drivel and the average intelligence of the Internet user began to drop as the WWW made it more accessible. However, some of these early virtual communities have held it together, and thanks to recent integrations with systems like Google Groups, are surviving well.

My two groups that I chat with regularly are a silly group of cat impersonators (don't get me wrong, I love 'em) and a very large, very busy group of quilters. Both of my "communities" have offered virtual tea and much sympathy over the recent loss of Panda ov Toes, more so than pet lovers often find in the "real" world.

One of the Quilters, someone I don't even know that well, just made my week yesterday. The quilters refer to their furry (or feathered or scaly) family members as the "QIs", or "Quilt Inspectors", referring to the apparent inability of any housepet to stay out of a snuggly blankie, whether it's a work-in-progress or not. Many in that group can empathise with the loss of a devoted QI. This wonderful lady read one of my first posts on Panda's illness, before she had left us but when I knew the diagnosis was final and things would end soon. She didn't respond on the newsgroup as so many wonderful folks did. She actually mailed me a letter (we have a private directory of participants), including a little sheet of kitty-cat stickers, and a square of a beautiful batik cotton fabric, with a cat silhouette overlay.

This thoughtful little packet arrived not quite a week after Panda's passing. I got choked up all over, not only thinking of Panda but of how much love there truly is in the world, for a stranger to do such a kind thing knowing me only enough to empathise with the loss of a treasured pet.

I have a daydream in mind right now to create a Panda portrait in a quilt. It will be challenging, I may have a few years to go before I get to that level of skill. You can probably guess what I'll be saving that sweet little piece of fabric for.

Go give your "QIs" another hug, everyone. And share the small acts of kindness that remind us what a community we truly are.

And a few days later, it was over...

It's been about 5 days since Panda was put to sleep.

This was the hardest ever. The other animals I've had to make this choice for were older, fading, "tired" of it. Panda was still so strong, but could no longer eat. A couple of the last times she tried, her teeth began just falling out. She would mutter in pain despite having pain patches on her sides, but she still wanted to cuddle and purr.

The sedative usually given before the final injection made her feel sick, which was upsetting. She didn't want to make a mess, so she ran to her litter box to throw up - a good girl right to the last. She was such a clean cat all the time. A black-and-white moggy, her white parts were always absolutely glowing, never dirty. I tried to help her groom her last few days when she couldn't, as she kept drooling as the condition of her mouth deteriorated.

Panda's passing adds a third tiny urn to a collection I'm increasingly at a loss for something to do with. I'm not usually sentimental about mortal remains - I don't visit graves of the departed, cremation seems sensible, but it just seems a bit too callous to say "make them disappear", so I have Lenny's, Lucy's, and soon Panda's ashes to tuck away somewhere.

Something that freaks others out, but seems appealing to me, is the LifeGem memorials - turning the carbon of remains into diamonds. It's so expensive though, it would be $10,000 or more to have one small stone for each of them. But the stones turn out blue or yellow - like Siamese blue eyes, and like Panda's bright yellow eyes. I guess I'll just keep my little urn collection until I'm stupidly rich, or can let them go, scattering them somewhere appealing if I ever find that place.

Good bye, sweet Toesey-girl. It seems like too short a time you were here.

Holiday Blah news....

Not much of any cheer to post.

My senior cat is dying. We went from routine dental work, to "hmm, seems to be an infection from the tooth extraction" to squamous cell carcinoma of the mandible in about a month. There is nothing to be done. Surgical options are drastic and would likely buy very little time with an invasive cancer like this. It's a cancer not known to be responsive to radiation or chemo. And any option would really have to have been exercised almost immediately upon this developing - but her dental work kind of hid things for a while.

Panda of Toes, Honourary Meezer, Wicked-smart Barn Cat, Polydactyl Extraordinaire, is presently being spoiled rotten, fed all kinds of bad-for-kitties treats, given pain medication, and loved to bits for whatever probably short time she has left with me.

*sniffle*

Free time sucked into a black hole....

Uh-oh. Those darned quilters have got me in trouble now. They told me about Qwyzzle. And I still hadn't really gotten over The Stone.

Better than spending a cold winter's sick day blogging.

Never underestimate the value of a good veterinarian

Panda-Ov-Toes, Senior Cat and my online namesake, has had a rough couple of weeks.

She's survived it, and in better shape than ever, much to the credit of Dr. Bonnie and her staff at The Cat Hospital of Kitchener-Waterloo. If you live in this region and have a cat, THIS is the veterinary practice for you!!!

What was to be routine dental work turned into an incident of acute pulmonary edema from the anaesthetic, a quick rescue by Dr. Bonnie and her staff, a freaked-out kitty for a day or so after recovering her from that, then a cardiac ultrasound to try and figure out WHY the edema happened. Barely settled from that vet visit, my poor old lady developed a swollen, painful jaw and went off her food - turns out the dental work was more critical than routine, as she had broken and infected teeth, not just tartar. So first she got a pain patch, and next another *very* *careful* anaesthesia attempt finally led to dental work being accomplished. While Panda was unconscious, Dr. Bonnie also did two biopsies on spots in her mouth, a full exam, and a nail trim to boot, not wanting to have to put her back through anything else.

So Panda is back home, looking a bit mangy from all the shaved spots, with a transdermal pain patch still glued to her and two weeks of antibiotics. Maybe it's the drugs or maybe the fact that her mouth is probably less painful than it has been for months, but she's bouncing around like a kitten again (she's somwhere around 10-11 years).

Folks, remember to hug your pet's doctor. In the end of it, unbelievably, Dr. Bonnie didn't charge me anything more than her original dental quote, either. She probably paid out-of-pocket twice what she charged me, just because she was determined to do the best she could for my kitty and had the cardiac and biopsy tests done without technically getting me to sign off. I would have happily paid that to have my happy healthy kitty back, but she didn't even ask.

Deep Thoughts....

Here's another movie to check out: The God Who Wasn't There.

This film is an interesting investigation into the premise that Jesus is a figure purely of mythology - a story, a folktale, with NO basis in the existence of any real person.

The academic case is interesting and has some merit. It is not the popular view, obviously not among Christians, and even among secular Bible scholars, many still find evidence that some actual person existed, and upon this person the story of Jesus is founded.

The producer has an agenda - to demonstrate the lack of rational/factual basis for belief in Jesus Christ, and to point out that it is thus a problem that so many people use that belief as a premise for their everyday actions. A number of academics, religious and not, contribute to this discussion. A number of other contributions come from devout religious believers, most of whom (in my not-so-humble and secularist opinion) are treated fairly and and allowed to demonstrate their intellect and knowledge, or in some cases, lack of such. One of the exercises constructed was to have an interviewer discuss with attendees of the Billy Graham Crusade their knowledge of the historicity of the Christ story and of many other parallel myths which have not achieved the status of this particular one. Many demonstrated how their understanding of even the doctrines they accept to govern their lives is superficial and accepted only based on what a religious leader has preached to them.

It is unfortunate that the last episode of the movie, an interview with the principal of Village Christian Schools, degenerated somewhat into a Michael Moore-esque personal attack. In constrast to the apparently open questions posed to Christians on the street, allowing them to demonstrate their position, the interview with Dr. Sipus quickly became antagonistic as the proponent structured more and more leading quesitons as attacks on a personal foundation. Dr. Sipus' initial responses in the interview were well thought out and consistent with his accepted premise that Jesus Christ is a tangible being, present in the world today. While direct accusation and temper did not come into it, it became clear in further questioning of the school's stated principles that the producer's agenda was hostile - likely based on his own experiences in having attended this very school.

Despite this last interview departing from the rigors of structured/academic interview as a valid method of data gathering, the film overall is thought provoking and will incite a reaction. In the absolutely devout, the reaction will of course be a denial of any validity. For those of us, religious to varying degrees, who still believe that skeptical inquiry can inform both faith and doubt, it's a great vehicle for a jumping-off into the debate that enriches and informs our intellectual lives.

Culinary meanderings, Part II

Ok, so the unrolled cabbage roll recipe actually turned out kinda well. Looks like something the cat regurgitated after a night out with the alley rats, but it tasted decent.

Today's adventure involved finding something to do with more of the random contents of the weekly organic food box delivery. So breakfast was a scramble - think omlette but scrambled instead of gently folded. Sauteed shitake mushrooms and spinach chopped into ribbons went into a sprayed pan with just a few drips of sesame oil. Every so often, I splash in a handful of water to prevent burning/drying, while cooking them down. Next step is beat 6 eggs with a bit of milk, and beat in crumbled aged white cheddar. Pour into the pan with the sauteed veggies, and "scramble" gently as it all cooks to solid. I added some goat cream cheese partway through cooking just for something different.

That was a pretty hearty breakfast for 2.

Culinary meanderings...

So, what happens when your cabbage is too small and tender to actually roll?

Beats me, but I'll let you know when the crock pot is done with it in about 12 hours. It looks something like tomato-cabbage stew. *sigh*

I suppose I can't win 'em all. I'm hardly a disaster in the kitchen and most of my experiments turn out OK. Here's last week's Baked Beans, adapted by me from several variants found googling "crock pot baked beans". Note I recommend over-doing the soaking and pre-boiling - the only thing that went wrong here was they were under-cooked after the first 10 hours so we cooked 'em 12 more.

Crock-Pot Maple Beans

3 c. dried beans (I used a mix of black beans, navy beans, and black-eyed peas).
1 sm. onion or a few shallots, chopped and sauteed until carmelized.
3 cloves garlic, or to taste, crushed and sauteed (with the onions)
1/2 tsp ground pepper, or to taste
splash of tobasco if you like
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp mustard powder
1/4 c. brown sugar (or less, to taste)
1/4 c. steak sauce
1/4 c. maple syrup
Optional small chunk of "salt pork" if you care for that, too. I left it out.
Water, broth, or another interesting liquid - apple juice sounds like it might be fun - as needed. I find sometimes with my crock-pot I need to add liquid partway, depends on the contents.

Wash/rinse beans to remove dried husks or other debris that might be there. I usually fill a pot, swish around and pour off the rinse a few times. Beans that float (most sink) are skimmed off and discarded, though I forget why I was told to do that. Then, refill with clean water and soak them an ABSOLUTE MINIMUM of overnight, preferably 24 hrs. As long as they don't sprout you haven't over-done it.

Pre-boil the beans, again, minimum of an hour. Watch the pot as when you boil them they'll soak up the water quick and may boil dry and burn.

After that, it's easy. Beans go in crock pot. Toss onions, garlic, and salt pork in with 'em. Mix all the rest of the ingredients into a sauce and pour in. Cook low and long, I don't think this recipe does better on the higher setting. I did low for 10 hours then left them on overnight after the first try proved them a bit under-done.

Cheers. I'll let you know what comes of the cabbage incident.

Go See This Movie!

CantStopTheSignal. Serenity. If you're a Firefly fan, you'll love it. If you don't know Firefly, it's still good (but I recommend becoming a Firefly fan first, you'll love the characters more).

Those who know me know that I don't really engage with movies or TV, but this is one of the exceptions.

Autumn it is...

Not much interesting to write about. Last weekend, I made it to the Michigan Renaissance Festival for the closing weekend. My Ontario Ren Fest employer also has a shop there, so I was there with a couple of the Ontario crew who are now doing that show, and a few new ren-friends. Earned my meals, spent more than I should have on shopping, and got sad all over to see what Trillingham would never become, *sigh*. Hollygrove is a really built up village. More American and a bit more commercial than our remaining small faires in this area, but a nice show. It looks like a small town of these quirky cottages that one could move in to - except local bylaws don't even allow shop owners to stay in their booths.

Coming back to work, this was the first 5-day week in a while and it was loooooong. I've been sick for a week, too (the whole Michigan weekend) and am still sniffling. If only I didn't need this job to support my hobbies and habits... like shelter and food.

Good night. Off to take cold medicine and try to sleep.

A Happy Harvest Home to all

Today marks the Autumnal Equinox, one of the quarter-days of the year in Pagan reckoning. Also known as Mabon or Harvest Home, the folk festival that gave origin to the more modern North American Thanksgiving.

Well, if you're really interested, Google it, there's lots of lore around it.

For me, now, they days shorten and I fight the urge to hibernate. It is time to contemplate and give thanks for the harvest. For those of us, the majority, who no longer work on the land, it needn't be irrelvant. What harvest have you brought in this year? What have you to be thankful for during the coming winter?

Blessed Be.

Hmm...

Not really sure I relate to this at all.

You Are A: Frog!

Independent yet still part of a large community, frogs are unique creatures known for their distinctive sound and ability to hop. As a frog, you spend your days sitting on lily pads or climbing trees, searching for delicious insects to eat. While there are some frogs that aren't exactly cute, you are certainly not one of those!

You were almost a: Duck or a Mouse
You are least like a: Puppy or a GroundhogCute Animal Test!

Thoughts on the value of Art....

Last weekend, the 8th Annual Royal Medieval Faire was held in Waterloo Park.

It was a beautiful day. It rained all over the setup crew the day before. Saturday morning, a couple of fluffy clouds in a clear blue sky spit some raindrops out just for a moment - teasing us and reminding us the Weather Goddesses are powerful, but really meant to smile down on the day. Some overnight vandalism (porta-potties tipped, tents torn down) didn't slow things up much. However, those responsible are pea-brained turds who deserve all karma that catches up with them. Unfortunately the perpetrators were probably from amoung our best and brightest at the nearby Universities.

As a Renaissance Festival goes, the RMF is small and fragile. It's one day. It's a tent faire. It appears and disappears in a large acreage of city park in less time than most people take to rearrange a living room. But boy, it has heart.

I love that such events exist. I love being part of a community that values them. It gives me a bit of hope for humanity. It reassures me to see that amongst the media-hyped saturation of vapid celebrity and the pseudo-adrenaline of the latest CGI effect blockbuster, SOMEone can still put brains and muscle into having a REAL imagination. That some people still take their kids out of doors and challenge them to exercise more than their thumbs. That teamwork and coping skills are still out there making a community of diversity, and that a genuine smile is still out there instead of just another silicone-enhanced, airbrushed twit on a billboard.

It reassures me that investment is still made in art. And I don't mean art as in $10,000 canvases to hang on your wall and dust, I mean ART in the creation of object, sound, action or event from one's own will and skill, for no other reason than to delight someone. It doesn't have to be art that delights me in particular - the creative act exists whether or not the result suits any one person's particular taste - but it has to be that imaginative, creative, energetic process that drives it.

Not the return on investment, the test market, the sponsorship or whatever. Just the need to create. I dread the day we finally lose all that to the blockbuster cinema sweatshops, I hope it never comes.

To every single one of you losers who argued with the Gate volunteers that $5 was "too much" for the RMF gate fee - I hope you choke on your next Starbucks Venti Double-whip Mocha whatchacallit. Get off your ass and help MAKE the day next year, why don't you? The arts need to be there for all of us.

Much better now, thank you...

Well, I lost a day this week due to food poisoining of all stupid things.

Just a note for all you too-busy office workers: Cook your microwave frozen lunches *thoroughly*. I have an unfortunate job that more than once has left me trying to heat lunch while putting a conference call on hold - it's not worth hurrying, just leave 'em on hold, they'll argue amongst themselves.

Chicken Tikka Masala followed by an afternoon coffee is only good on the way down, the first time.

*urk*

I've started solid food again today, though. Don't think it'll be curry for a while yet.

An afternoon in Abingdon, Huzzah!

On what was originally supposed to be "closing day" (more on that in a bit), I finally made it down the edge of the Niagara Escarpment, to the Royal Abingdon Renaissance Faire. Held on a portion of the lands of the Royal Botanical Gardens, just over Cootes Paradise, it's about an hour away from home.

It was a worthwhile afternoon, I think. It is important, first, to admit that I am a refugee of the Ontario Renaissance Festival, closed last fall after 9 increasingly successful seasons, for reasons which are the business of its owners and financiers. It is tempting to approach the Royal Abingdon Faire with comparison in mind, but that is something that really should not be done - that would not be fair to anyone involved. Abingdon was put together by some of the dispossessed actors and vendors who lost their summer incomes when the OntRF closed.

One must walk up and take a look at this as a first-year Renaissance Faire, one with a limited budget, and one which did not even contract for its faire site until the month before gates opened. The event has run for a full season mostly in tents at this point, with severe budget constraints compared to most large Renaissance Faires, and more than a little contention amongst its community over various operational things. Such things happen when creative, enthusiastic, and determined people take on such challenges.

All in all, the day was most enjoyable. The folks who picked up the torch and ran on deserve commendation, and I think they're earning their admission fee. The professional stage shows drew some performers from the former OntRF, who were as good as ever despite the limited stage structures. Where a performer unable to return left a gap in the venue, similar acts have stepped up, such as the Mudd Show, who did an admirable job of ruining front-row clothing. Stage space was also given to SCA members who presented a show of traditional dance, complete with lessons. The usual Morris Dancers were also in the programme though I did not see them today. I was also enthused to see a Samurai show in the programme, but that became a disappointment as they didn't appear to be there. Printing mistake left that in from earlier weeks, oh well. Those things happen.

Many of my "old neighbours" were still among the vendors, and many asked why I wasn't working there (easy answer: my employer of the last 6 years was not there), and it was nice to feel someone might have missed me. Many had done admirable jobs of relocating, some having even managed to build structures despite the very short time frame.

The joust was still conducted, which was nice to see. I'm always happy to watch the horses, who are often more competitive than their riders. The tournament is being conducted as a points tournament only, no combat, which is probably in keeping with the experience of the two remaining knights who were there today.

I'm afraid I missed the Court show, so I don't really know how that was. I glimpsed King Henry only once, and I suppose that the fact that I, even as an experienced patron, had trouble identifying cast actors or fathoming what was up is a bit telling. One of the two major flaws I could bring up was a seeming lack of fanfare around the court intrigues. When I did see those who were cast, many were identifyable to me only because I knew them from the OntRF, and I really witnessed no play going on. Many sightings involved actors trying to stay cool and shaded and chatting amongst themselves without much street interaction.

It is quite possible that my observation around the casting is related to the second flaw I found hard to miss, and that is the creation of the site. Now, ALL criticism must be tempered with the knowledge that, as I said, the site was only finalised in the month before it opened. It is a lovely area they are in. Abingdon is constructed in the northern parts of the Avenues of Trees in the Arboretum, RBG. It is, however, a challenging area and I do not think the layout was done as best it could have been.

The Avenues of Trees, unlike the forested areas often present on such Faire sites, consist of large expanses of soccer-field-like lawn, dotted with single trees, each one representing a species in the collection. This necessitated long runs of security fencing, which is bright orange plastic and completely unable to conceal roads, storage facilities, and parking beyond. This was likely necessary - there was no time and perhaps it was not permitted to build a fully walled compound. It did make it a bit difficult to imagine oneself back in the 1530's at times, watching traffic go by over your meade at the pub.

I hope in the next years to see a bit more cohesive arrangment to the property. I think the structures there still might have been arranged better. They seemed to be a bit haphazard, necessitating patrons walk beside or behind some booths - and even stages - to reach the fronts of others. Despite the openness of the site being a real limitation, the arrangements could have taken better advantage of what cover there was.

I thought it was a shame that they weren't in the adjacent RBG space behind the Hedge collection, which afforded more hilly areas which could have been used as natural theatre space and also more forest coverage and a more coherent tree line which might have served to conceal fencing and contain and move patrons in more efficient ways. I would guess that not using this space is due to the nature of the lands and collections there and the greater risk of patrons damaging the shrubs and smaller trees more than the large ones in the avenues. It would also have been more difficult to service, the buildings and support needing level ground.

All in all, for a fledgeling faire it had the variety and expanse of one a few years established as a "temporary" faire. Certainly comparable to the Royal Medieval Faire in its 3rd year or so - despite some set up issues, it is leaps and bounds ahead of what might be expected for something brought together in only weeks. I now hear it is due to run a few more weeks into the fall, something I hope gets enough publicity to take off. A hearty "Huzzah!" to all who have put heart, soul, and lots of muscle into it. I hope to spend summer days in Abingdon for many years yet to come.

Holiday? What Holiday?

So far, on this 4-day-weekend of mine, I have:

Visited friends from Michigan who were in Toronto and doubled that up with some quality time with my much-missed Best Girlfriend Ever Alison. Got home at 4 am Friday and managed to not wake Adam up.

Friday started with an RMT appointment, lots of kitty litter cleaning as I didn't do that Thursday, then afternoon and evening with family at RibFest in Burlington, then my sister's place, then my parents' visiting with my fave Auntie and Uncle recently returned from a military assignment in Colorado... a bit more cat litter cleaning when we got home.

Saturday... umm... sheesh, I can't even remember most of the day, oh, yeah, finished quilting the baby quilt for a little girl due today, but who is taking a few extra days to get ready. BBQ dinner with Adam's friends, more cat litter...

Today, I have done laundry, dishes, made pizzas, caught up on filing bills receipts and paperwork, sorted some accumulated mail off the baker's rack in the hall, tried to do an expense report for work but realized I didn't have my digipass, paid bills, called my brother who had announced Friday he and his wife are expecting again, sorted and disposed of about a cubic metre of recycling, made a dozen "chain maile" helmets (from a mylar fabric) and half a dozen or so felt "monk's hoods", to sell at the Royal Medieval Faire for fundraisers, and worked on the binding of the quilt for the impending baby. Still have to get to the kitty litter.

Somehow, I still have more to do tomorrow than I can possibly get done in one more day. And the apartment is really still a mess, go figure.

Generation X, welcome to your Carlsberg years. Yikes.

Sometimes I wish I were the one with the camera... or maybe not.

Okay, so, what is loud, messy, wet, naked, and on fire?

The Late Night Adult Show of the 2005 Waterloo Busker's Festival. OH my. It started off with about 45 minutes of pre-show abuse of irresponsible parents who wouldn't take their kids home... and then it got dirty. A spelling bee of crude sexual euphemisms was the low-light, but the buskers-turned-Full-Monty made up for it. Trulee Odd wearing a string thong with a 3 ft long gold lame, uhm... appendage while working the crowd for donations was definitely something youngsters should not be able to see. Costume particulars aside, though, the tandem fire-breathing by scantily clad men was not a bad concept overall.

Despite the fact that I have neither the funds nor the inclination to keep up with my photographer honey, there are moments when I wish I had a half-decent point-and-shoot on hand.

Unfortunately, the weather gods did not like the near-nudity and the rain began bucketing down just as the fire breathers were really getting going. They toughed it out for as long as they could, after a full day of scrambling to avoid inclement weather already, so at the very least, my hat is off to the performers and crew for a very interesting weekend (and yes, I did put a $20 in the bin for the Late Show, which raises funds for the festival itself).

Cheers all. One more summer weekend, but somehow I don't think it'll top this one.

Life-altering experiences, 7 years after

Today is my 7th "not-dead" day. I feel in many ways this is much more an accomplishment than any old birthday - I mean, *I* wasn't the one who did all the work associated with my Birthday, for that reason I think birthday presents should be given to Moms on their kids birthdays. But not being dead was something that took a hell of alot of bloody-minded determination, I think.

Seven years ago today, sometime between 9 and 10 in the morning, an insignificant and otherwise undetected gallstone made a play for lasting notoriety and took out my pancreas. While pancreatitis is a commonly known complication in middle-aged male alchoholics, usually following advanced cirrhosis and other things, its appearance in an only-slightly-overweight, active, generally healthy 27-year-old woman boggled more than one doctor. During the following weeks of intensive care and months of bed rest, reparative surgery, infections, rehospitalizations and increasingly strange complications, more than one idiot tried to insist I must be an alchoholic or drug user of 10+ years, just to make themselves feel better that they knew the REASON. Laughable given how much more of a "drunk" I seem to be now - my bi-monthly benders of more than one glass of wine in the same weekend NEVER happened before I was 27.

What a trip it has been. The same doctors who couldn't believe I'd live out the week eventually came to be equally astonished by how well I had recovered. I now teach aerobics classes on a semi-regular basis, do yoga weekly, walk or bike whenever I can manage, and work like a fiend at a career that has only gone up since my illness. I remain diabetic (due to the near total ablation of my pancreas), but can't for the life of me convince either of the endocrinologists or the gastroenterologist I've seen that there's anything to be concerned about. I deal with unexplained, recurrent bouts of fatigue, pain, and sometimes fevers, but hell, so do people I know who have all their organs. I think that's actually due to a lingering and determined sinus infection that survived the whole pancreatitis thing along with me. I get heartburn much more easily, probably due to the repeated gastroscopy procedures and the fact that my stomach was impacted by complications... but again, some people suffer worse just for eating a donut.

I think the most profound result of the experience was a realization of my utter mortality, rather earlier in life than most people have to confront it. This is good and bad. I can now present a very morbid side to some people. I am not traumatized by death and loss, though it is still sad when it touches me and mine. I can smile at a funeral and the thought that the next one could ever be mine. The idea of being dead and gone someday, soon or late, doesn't really faze me. I mean, I'm not looking to hasten it along, but it'll happen, and this is the way of things. Don't plan any grand wake for me - I'll be long gone and not there to enjoy it. Take the insurance money, plant a tree if you must, just make sure someone feeds the cats. That's all.

I am anti-materialistic to a point that frustrates some who know me, so ready can I be to discard clutter from my life. Even when the result is a baby going out with the bathwater, I'm more prone to shrug it off than run back to Value Village and dive back into the donation bin. I still hoard food, a relic of the experience of going 5 months without being able to eat, many weeks of that not even being able to drink water while medical science walked the fine line between nutrition and liver toxicity with TPN therapy. For almost a year more I could not eat much without pain. Now, despite that, I also can't seem to lose weight, partly due to the hoarding psychology - eat now, against future famine. VERY hard to deprogram when such trauma has entered the cellular level of one's being.

I've lost my fear of heights. For a few of years, August 22 was "lets do rollercoasters" day, something I had planned to do, for the first time in my life, the very first Day of the Gallstones. It was a year later that I first made it. I had never flown before this happened and had misgivings about it, but since have found myself a fascinated airline passenger, eager to demand a window seat and happy to watch the skies for hours on end.

My sense of humour has changed - I'll leave it to its victims to decide if for better or for worse. It's sharper than ever, but more than a little sarcastic. But I've grown a sense of art, as well, and have realized the vitality of creative endeavour, of some sort, any sort. I've come to seek quality - in lovingly and aestheticly handmade articles filling my home - than quantity and economy.

The days go by quickly still, but always a little more noted than I think they were before this. I love the smell of the air. Noting the rainfall is a small joy, not an excuse to grimace about the weather. The heat is oppressive this summer, but that just makes every small breeze, even the one instigated by the bedroom ceiling fan, a treasure. Email from a friend earns a deserved smile. My insane cats, maddening as they can be, are the loveliest things when the wiggle and purr just to be near me. A new baby (my Endo doc's little girl, actually) beamed a big smile today when I talked to her and held out the bright yellow thing she had been gazing at with fascination. On my lunch hour, I took an enjoyable little drive for 15 minutes and brought back some treats for the team slogging away here.

It is so much more important to me to find these moments in my days, because really, I've learned that moments are all we really get to have.

Happy live-day.

Quilt in the Works

Hallo, Sunday afternoon.

If any are still popping in based on my rec.crafts.textiles.quilting call-for-help - thank you and stay tuned... I've taken some folks advice and gotten down to it. I have removed my "in progress" snaps, just because they were, well, in progress, and I don't want the Mommy and Daddy of the baby-to-be having their surprise ruined, just in case they stumbled on my blog, which I don't think they know about, but still. I will pop up a final pic when I have it.

There is something both wholesomely productive and very zen about the production of a quilt. I'm slow, and not in any danger of ranking with the $10,000 per commission art quilters I do admire, but it is a real accomplishment to hand-craft something meaningful in this way. I use a machine, but the quilting gets done at its own pace. And the time is mine, gratefully claimed away from the outside world and the noise of the everyday. It clears the mind, just to focus on thread and fabric and where the next stitch should go.

It is also my quiet way of a rally against the Wal-mart mentality of mass consumerism, for cheap cheap cheap. True, I quilt right now for little ones who won't yet understand the difference between a handmade and unique quilt and the mass-printed Spongebob bedsheets they'd rather get for their birthday party. I hope that in time the quiet durability of a home-made quilt will outlast the latest TV marketing fad, and prompt them to see and hear the story of a quilt, and to learn to treasure the shabby finery of the handcrafted over the mass-market sameness of sweatshop imports. I can't make a quilt worth my time, ever. It is my meditation and prayer to put in those hours, time I will never get back, but I'm grateful to have the luxury of doing so. The only payback I might get is know someday that a child is dragging around the worn scraps of a much-loved blankey they've never been without. And that would be just fine.

Back to it. Before enlightenment, stitch fabric, trim thread. After enlightenment, stitch fabric, trim thread.

Profile Photo

Well, you'd never believe I taught meself some mad HTML skills back in the early nine-oh's when it was still so fresh .... I'm struggling with getting photos into my blog profile nowadays.

Here's what I'll use. An old self-portrait I still really like, probably because it's got all the flaws washed out by the photoshop filter I was playing with at the time, but still is *generally* recognizeable. It must be almost 10 years now... at least 8, as I was living in my ramshackle little Fountain Hotel apartment on Gordon St. when I did this. Which means it was pre-pancreatitis, and the 7th anniversary of the Day the Pancreas Blew Up is Monday.

Tornado Watch!

I seem to have begun my blogging the way I've always managed to keep journals... very sporadically. Gotta do something about that. It seems I have a tendency to neglect the recording of my life, except when things are bad. But today, I got around to opening an email my dearest old friend sent, which was a link to his recent blogging, and I've been hit by a moment of motivation again.

This is a generally mundane day in a generally ordinary life. But it is my day, again, as was yesterday, and as will be tomorrow. I guess it is what I have.

My work day was tiring, though my job is generally rewarding, with a slight undercurrent of insane of late, just as those of us who survived the latest round of layoffs are working out our frustration and survivor's guilt on each other as we try to avoid taking it out on customers. Mid-day I had intended to make one of my too-infrequent forays back to my old grounds in Guelph to retrieve the latest installments of my Fabric Club subscription from the Greenwood Quiltery, but after several torrential downpours and reports of tornadoes in the region, travelling in my tiny car on an open highway through flat farmland didn't seem so appealing.

Instead, the Spousal Euphemism and I headed out to the local Gourmet foods emporium and made an indoor picnic of some exotic prepared take-out, a selection from the olive bar and whacked-out cheeses. Then I popped in here to review all the emails I haven't had time for, caught up on Dear Friend's blog and decided it is time to make more of a regular exercise of mine.

SE just finished watching Dead Poets' Society for the umpteenth time in the other room - a movie which, while superb from idea through final execution, depresses the hell out of me. I think because when younger, I always felt like one of those over-achiever kids who was nonetheless never good enough, and I rode that self-destructive razor's edge for so long. Hate being reminded of how it felt to be that. I prefer my entertainment to be much farther into the escapist genre.

SE is expected back here momentarily as for some reason he's decided to work on his Photo Journal in a corner of my office for a while.

I may follow this with another entry if I can find an interesting photo somewhere in the heap. SE has become my photojournalist, but I'm bartering him rights to use pictures of me (which I generally hate, but have to admit, are technically quite good) for rights to use his pictures of me, my quilts or my cats to demonstrate *my* art, because it's really hard to get the cat itself to sit still on a scanner.
Such was my day, then... or only the later part, I guess.

And this is current QI #4, da Sprout! The ! is part of her name. She is taking her QI duties very seriously here, as she got the flash full in the face right after pulling her head out from inspecting the backing of this quilt. The quilt is the second thing I ever did, and the largest at the time, a crib quilt which was titled Owen's Welcome and given to my nephew the day he was born, Feb 25, 2004. This pic is probably a couple weeks before. I'll get a better pic later - we had to recapture it to photograph properly later last year, and I still have to make a proper label.

3 of my current 4 QIs - from left to right, that's Maui (the seal pt, and only boy), Blue, my Blue-point (the immensely imaginative name was not mine, she came with it) and Her Grumpy Old Ladyship Panda-ov-Toes, my online namesake and now senior Cat in Charge (she was raised by Lenny and Lucy, and thinks she is Siamese). Look closely at those paws hanging on the edge of the cat shelf - you can see where the "ov Toes" comes from. She has 23 toes.

Me and the Prime Meezers, Lucy and Lenny (now both gone on to Rainbow Bridge). L&L never got to be "QIs", as I didn't begin quilting until a couple weeks after Lucy passed away. They were occasional sewing assistants, but for 11 years they were the best friends and roomies I could ever want. Still miss'em. Photo is a very early, one of the first, digital snaps by my now very accomplished photographer sweetie, Adam. I must note the camera I had at the time was *very* limiting - you will see more stunning examples of his work later.