:)

Mijn Tony...

ok then, here goes...

he asked me to marry him. I said yes.
Yes, oh yes oh yes!
May 23, 2009.

hard to contain...

there is something I am bursting to tell you all... but I need a few more days to really get my own head around it....

to see the world in a grain of sand....

I think in all our lives there are moments when things seem perfectly clear.
Instances of clarity that seem to make time stand still, quiet the cacophony of life and its trials, the air suddenly calm, clear and crystalline.
They come at random times, standing at our shoulder as we discover their gift, quietly nodding and dissipating once their message is received.
Tangible moments.
Life changing.
Things like love.
You look, and wonder, and create your ideal. You work towards it, and sometimes, wanting it so much, convince yourself it exists where it truly does not.
Then, perhaps when you have given up hope, you look just ever so slightly to your side, and all goes quiet.
Oh there you are… mijn liefde.
I asked where he had been all my life.
He answered, “waiting for you to come home. Took you long enough.”
No idea where this path will lead. It has been a difficult one to navigate. Leaping into the unknown, uncertain what the future will bring, looking past the histories we might both prefer to forget but have been brutally honest about… all possible with the courage drawn from believing.
What seemed insurmountable has suddenly given way. Cautious steps must be chosen wisely, but can at last be taken nonetheless.
And hearts that have been broken too many times can heal in the warmth of love.

interesting....

seems there have been posts on our circle of blogs lately that have had a political theme (understandable really), so I invite you to read a new blogger... meet my nephew, Chris. (Note: he promises not to be political all the time...)

http://round-one.blogspot.com/

And if you have not yet found my niece Miss Margery...

http://vantownmrose.blogspot.com/

Frankly brilliant both of them. M's most recent post is a fun ski trip, but peruse a little further down and she too has some very thought provoking posts regarding her thesis subject.

And as one is in Newfoundland at university, and the other in Vancouver at university, I think we have the country covered. Let's just see anyone try to get away with anything...

Of Angels and fortune

I am not sure if I believe in angels.
Well, not totally true. I think my daughter was one, here for only a short while to teach me about love.
But I think our generally accepted version of what an angel is, a clean, perfect entity, with a serene expression and calm demeanor, is more than a little off.
I do not believe Mother Theresa was an angel. Rather I think she was an incredible human being, one who saw angels for what they really are.
I think... no, I know… I had an encounter with an angel this past weekend.
You see, on the Friday prior to Copper Point’s 5th annual Feed The Town Christmas dinner (a free turkey dinner with all the trimmings for those less fortunate as well as everyone else, doubling as a food drive for the food bank), I actually sat down and had a proper and technical look at my finances.
Needless to say, it was not a pretty picture.
I am not sure just why I did not do the math earlier than that. Now on my own, a single mum, I should have had a more critical look at it all much earlier than I did.
But, woulda coulda shoulda, right?
The next two days I spent distraught, trying to figure out what I was going to do, tearful and afraid. Not a new story by any means. In our fair, idyllic valley, there are many families who are facing the same dilemma of how to pay the bills and feed the kids all out of the same static pot of money.
Sunday morning dawned, and I awoke with the thought that volunteering with Feed The Town would be a good way to take my mind of what I perceived as insurmountable problems.
And that is where I met my angel.
The role I filled, along with several other people at the event, was to make sure people had beverages, pie, and clear up after they were finished. I enjoy serving people, always have. Waitressing was always an enjoyable profession for me.
So what better way to fill a Sunday afternoon?
About mid-way through the day, I saw an older gentleman sitting by himself, dinner plate filled, but no beverage glass. So I went over, asked if he would like anything to drink, then brought over to him his requested glass of water.
I spoke to him briefly, about nothing in particular, and then went back to doing what I was there to do.
But every few minutes I would look back at him. And as I watched him from afar, I would see him looking around the room, savouring each bite of his meal, and now and then a gentle smile would cross his face.
He was dressed in clothes that were clean but well worn, and had about him the look of a man who did not have much in the way of family.
I was drawn to him.
As more people came in, and he was still alone at his table, I went over to talk to him and clear his plate.
It was a wonderful dinner, he told me.
I agreed.
Then he looked right at me and said, “This is so wonderful… this whole thing, the feeling… I don’t know just what to say.” His words were halted by an emotion I can only describe as a gladness at what he saw.
As he rose to leave, pushing carefully off the table and in obvious discomfort, he repeated what a wonderful event it was.
I opened my arms to hug him, smiled and said, “I know it is a little early, but Merry Christmas.”
He put his own arms out and I stepped forward. He held me in gentle embrace for a few moments, then stepped back and put his hands on my arms.
“Every day is Christmas for me,” he said. “Every morning that I can get out of bed is a blessing.”
He smiled at me, gave my arms a final squeeze, and walked slowly away.
I do not know his name, nor do I know if I will ever see him again.
But I felt tears sting my eyes as I cleared a few more plates, knowing I had just had an encounter I was not meant to take for granted.
I realized, in that one perfect moment, that my problems were not so bad. That all I had to do was find a way. I am strong and healthy, my boys are as well, I have friends and family that love me, and each day I can get out of bed without worrying if I can or not.
I can get another job if I need to, or drum up a little more photo business. I just have to find a way. That is the simple and plain truth.
A friend of mine told me recently that God does not give us anything we are not strong enough to deal with, and while I do not necessarily buy into any particular religion, I do believe in a higher power.
God has not put anything in front of me I cannot find a way to handle. I just needed to see that.
And to my great shame, I let myself wallow in self pity over what is nothing I cannot find some solution to.
I saw an angel Sunday, Nov. 30. One sent to remind me of my own strength, and to be thankful for all I do have.
With that in mind, I wish you all good days ahead, remind you to look for your own inner strength, and thank that man, my angel, for reminding me of a lesson I thought I had learned long ago.
God, the Goddess, Creator… however you choose to believe… believe. Or not. It is truly up to you.
But do, if you would please, believe in yourselves.
Blessed be.

my first hat.... cowboy that is....

and my dad would have loved it...
I miss him.

I am moved in. ish.

this will be my home for six months... it is a good home. I will be happy here. I will heal here.
must to the long overdue rounds.
xo
for now... my column. Goodbye to the YC... for now.

New beginnings

A little over a week ago I turned 39.

I don’t feel it. To be honest, I don’t think a lot about age. But the number is there and I find myself scrutinizing it as one would a colourful bug: interesting, but not interesting enough to really concern myself about. As long as it doesn’t bite…

With that birthday, the very same day, another event occurred: it was my last at the youth centre.

My time at the Summit has come to an end. I think I knew it was time about six months ago, but refused to give it up, thinking I could never walk away and be complete.

But it was time. Time for new blood, new ideas, new energy. Time for someone to take the reins and take it even further. They say a good leader knows when to let someone else lead. Hopefully I can fit into that category.

Time for me to walk away, much as a parent watches a child finally leave the nest. I have lived and breathed youth centre for so long , it seems very odd to think it will no longer be my first thought as I wake up in the morning. It is a bittersweet sort of feeling.

Eventually I will join on the board (if they will have me), but I realize I must make it a clean break for a little while and trust the new program coordinator and the incoming board of directors will keep things running smoothly. I am especially proud of one new board member in particular: Lee Meadows, who in some ways practically grew up at the YC, is taking on the role of vice-chair. I know he will receive the guidance he needs, and Lee, you know I am always just a phone call or text away. Incoming treasurer Diana Linde is also an exciting addition, with the skills required to keep the financials on track and in order. There are more new members, a few still from last year, and I am encouraged to think they will keep everything going, bigger and better.

My new job will keep me busy and my mind off what is for me a monumental change.

But I do want to thank everyone who has ever been a part of the YC, the various members of the board over the years, the volunteers, the donors (private, business and corporate) and most especially the youth.

You guys have been the light of my life, even when we butted heads and we challenged each other.

I watched so many of you grow up, sometimes make mistakes, but much more often make me proud. I know, I know, I was sometimes too stern. But you never failed to come back, and I never doubted the bond I formed with so many of you.

You know that I believe in you. Each and every one of you. You know I will always be around somewhere and when I do stop in at the YC, it will be to play a game of pool or some 21, maybe a little ball hockey or whatever we come up with. No more paper work. No more longs stints at the desk. With this retirement, I get to do the part I like best: just hang with you.

It might be a bit before I show up. This letting go business is harder than I thought. But I will get there. And in the meantime, you know how to get hold of me, so never hesitate to if you need that ear to bend or a cup of tea. What I have told you all still holds true. You know what I mean and you know the number, and for those of you who don’t, get it from one of the others or ask me when you see me next.

You are truly a part of me. You are the one part of the youth centre I simply refuse to give up.

There will still be a River of Change camp in the spring, come hell or highwater, so I suppose it is appropriate to end this column the same way we end the camp at closing circle.

“And with that, I’m outta here.”

Love always

S

taking a chance...

something has happened.
I am terrified... but exhilarated...
I am jumping into something like I know I should not.
And, no, it is not what you all think.
There has been a total earthshaking event in my life.
I hope you will all understand when I tell you.
I do not know exactly what is going to happen.
But I am going to do what my nature tells me to do. My true nature. The one I have denied for many years.
please... send me your love... send me your support... and your understanding....

ok...

So, I will be working for Windermere Water and Sewer, I suppose best described as a private utility company, doing some reception work but also putting together presentations and reports and that sort of thing. A lot of what I do will depend greatly on my own initiative.
I put in my resume not thinking I would get the job,but I did!
It is good pay, better than I have been getting for certain, and the hours are regular, so I can plan, like, a life!
And the benefits are also excellent, which is good as I will no longer be on Ian's. Having said that, Ian is being very gracious and keeping us on his until mine kick in three months from now.
I get to dress nicely, and most importantly, I get to use my brain!
All very exciting. But now I really have to get with the packing. I have been avoiding it... hate packing, but I am only a few weeks away from moving and I think Ian is beginning to get ansty... can't blame him. He has roommates moving in and I still have not packed up!
Talk with you all soon...
much love
S

YEA!!!!

I HAVE A NEW JOB!!!!
regular hours, good pay, excellent benefits!
Will tell all later!
XO

A celebration of life...

I can’t say as I have ever been to anything quite like it.
A celebration of Dennis Hemus’ life, held at the Great Hall at Panorama Mountain Village, had one very significant difference when compared to other such celebrations I have attended.
Dennis himself was there.
Smiling, laughing, talking, loving.
And saying goodbye on his own terms.
A couple of hundred people, all of whom have their own stories and memories of Dennis, gathered to hear a eulogy, music, and stories about him, as well as listen to Dennis recite The Shooting of Dan McGrew.
It was… well… perfect.
Dennis has lived with multiple myloma for seven years. It is not like other cancers. Multiple myloma (MM) has no cure.
Den has always known this, as have his friends and family.
About a week ago Dennis was told he had only a few days to live. His children were called, friends and family arrived, and then, it would seem, Dennis decided to wait a little longer. So the celebration of life he would attend was planned.
As Roscoe Dalke, who was for lack of a better term the emcee of the afternoon pointed out, we always say we wish we had a few more moments with those that leave us. And this was just such a chance.
When editor Ian Cobb asked me to take on the task of writing about Dennis’ life for The Echo, I was honoured and accepted without a second thought.
When I spoke to Dennis about writing about his life, I agreed to wait until after he is gone. That piece has yet to be written.
But this column is to tell about the celebration I was so honoured to be present at. It is me telling all of you, and him, my own feelings on what it was meant to me to work with him on stories about the injustices of Celgene and their atrocious abuse of power regarding the drug Thalomid, a brand name version of thalidomide that has huge benefits for MM patients but Celgene charges obscenely for. Dennis has worked tirelessly for years to make a difference for other MM patients, fought to make Celgene accountable for their actions, and done so in an absolutely selfless manner.
It is to tell about the man that I got to know over the past few years, come to call my friend, come to admire, respect, and care deeply about.
This column is for you Dennis.
We had many conversations together, during some of which you told me things you never meant to go public, and I promise you they never will.
Those conversations meant a great deal to me.
I remember one evening in particular.
It was a few years ago. We were walking around the Windermere Cemetery, preparing a story for the Relay For Life. You proudly showed me the Rotary Columbarium, we wandered around, looked at the old grave markers, and sat on the bench as the evening passed us.
You asked me then to never make you out to be a hero.
“I am not a hero,” you told me as we watched the sun set over Lake Windermere. “I am just a guy trying to stay alive.”
I told you I would not.
Neither of us talked for a few moments, and I took a photo of you that still hangs on my wall.
Sorry Den. Just this once, I have to break my word to you. You see, a hero is just what you are. They way you have fought doggedly against Celgene, for people you have never met, for people who will develop MM and you will never meet.
For that, you are a hero, and I am so blessed to have gotten to know you.
For the rest, you are my friend.
For the courage and grace you have shown, for never failing to smile, for never feeling sorry for yourself, for being so grateful for the life you have had.
For allowing me to take a small part in the Celgene stories, though bigger journalists than I took it much further. For trusting me.
For all of it.
Saturday was perfect. It was friends and family hugging and talking, laughing together, having a drink with you, celebrating not only your life, but all our lives and every day we have.
You are a cheeky fellow Dennis, and you have once again done things on your own terms.
I cannot help but smile as I write, knowing there is still much work to be done.
Know that there will be people who continue your fight, and if ever there is a way I can help them I promise you I will.
So, with that, I am outta here. This is not a memorial column, this is just a moment in time. One for you, one for me. I’ll catch you on the flip side.
S

Punk rockers....

Denyss McKnight


Kaine Delay


A bunch of my girls... I am in there somewhere...


Mosh pit frenzy...


My achingly beautiful girls... my little sisters... my heart.

There were technical issues from hell, the warm up band had to bail (and I totally do not hold it against them... they had been together like... 12 hours) and the gig started 45 minutes late.
But it was glorious. The kids danced and moshed and tried to sing along and the band brushed away all the sound issues and glitches and gave a HELL of a show.
We broke even, and they are coming back after their tour.
All in all... a success.
I am going to share with you a bit of what Denyss said. You may remember Denyss from my post about him and my Dearest Dru in the car accident...
This was on his My Space bulletin.

"September 12, Invermere/BC
Our first show of the tour. Youth event in a small town at a community centre. It's been ages since I've done one of these, and I'm not sure LSD has EVER done one.

After an agonizing all night drive which left Thana and I delirious with sleep deprivation and too much Red Bull, we arrived. At first, I can never be sure what to think and I sure as fuck hate pre-judging a show before anything happens. So I waited. I watched kids roll in to the hall. I remember being their age. Looking at a band from out of town as some foreign and rare gem. In a small town, you don't see this often. With that in mind, I tried to be the kind of guy I would have wanted to meet when I was their age and living in a small town going to a punk rock show. The other bands on the bill bailed last minute, so it really was all on our shoulders. The intro hit and a hall full of teenagers start screaming. They're ready for anything and we're just as ready to give it back to them in appreciation.

The sound was terrible. The vocals kept cutting out. The electronics were too loud out front and not in the monitors. My guitar was inaudible. But it was fucking incredible. Sweating, dancing, singing along when they could figure out the words.

It made me remember. It made me grateful for my teenage years. It made me proud that I can carry on a tradition that has more integrity, depth and strength than any mainstream audience could ever compete with. This is my world, these are my kids."

Mine too, Denyss. Mine too.

moving on.... slowly.

breaking up is hard to do... and splitting the dishes is as well.
I have found a place to live for the winter, one I can afford on my own, which is a miracle. Anything that is big enough for me and the boys is crazy expensive. So here is to finding a place in the fall that I can swing as a single mom. Actually, there is a subsidized house that is really pretty nice, but it is a months long process. So, we will wait and see.
So we are finally embarking on the real end of days.
I would like to say Ian and I are on speaking terms, but just now I think there is too much hurt and anger on both sides. But we are both decent people and I think that in the end, that will prevail. At least I hope so.
Getting ready for a punk concert for the youth centre tonight so best be off.
Love to all...
S

so this guy walks into a grocery store...

a guy came in to a buy a couple of things the other day. I asked if he wanted a bag. he looked at me, frowning, and asked, "Is that a trick question?"
I guess a few people do read my columns.

Imaginary heroes... dedicated to Robbie

Bags bags bags.
Having cut my hours at the youth centre by half, I recently took a job at AG Valley Foods.
Like many of us here in the valley, I have bought, in abundance, reusable bags from both AG and Sobeys, to avoid the accumulation of a gazillion plastic ones.
And like many of us, I forget to take the darn things in a regular basis.
I have come to realize though, in my short time working, that the reason we are so forgetful about our bags, is the knowledge in the back of our heads that there are always plastic ones, or paper, in the stores. Not just grocery stores, but all stores.
So I got to thinking, if they were not available, would we keep forgetting?
Well, maybe once or twice. But after a couple of episodes of either having to drive home to get them or loading a plethora of items loose into our cars from the carts, I think propensity to forget would be eliminated.
Just imagine if we never used disposable bags.
Beyond the environmental bonus, you can get more into them, they are stronger, and you can use them for anything. If we all just made a point of taking them along with us, easy enough to do as they scrunch down and fit in each other, we would have them all the time.
Like carrying your wallet or purse.
I propose we become a community of no disposable bags at stores at all. Several of our local retailers already have some version of reusable bags for sale for just a dollar or two. And we could even start off with a campaign of every $50 you spend earns you one bag for the first 6 months or so, just so everyone has a chance to stock up. We could phase it in, and for visitors, we could make sure we advertise it well and have the odd contingency plan in place so as not to disgruntle them.
Imagine, the entire valley plastic bag free.
I know some people use them for garbage bags, but they really aren’t all that great when push comes to shove. And if you go so far as to recycle weak little grocery bags into garbage bags, I would think you would be right on board with this idea… nudge nudge, wink wink.
And think of the promotional value.
“The Columbia Valley: proudly plastic bag free since 2008.”
And the trickle down effects could be fantastic.
The more we do to cut down on packaging, the more aware of the immense amount of unnecessary packing we see very day.
In Germany, the 1992 enacted green dot law regarding recycling actually requires manufacturers and retailers to take back all secondary packaging. A year later, it was the obligation of retailers, distributors and manufacturers to accept the returned sale packaging of all types of packaging necessary to contain and transport goods right up to the point of consumption.
I am not saying we need to put the onus on our retailers. What I am saying is we can put the onus on ourselves. After all, we have plenty of recycling bins at our disposal, no pun in tended.
Take a little less home, put a little more in the recycling bin, and suddenly, you don’t need as many of those make shift garbage bags that seemed so handy when you unpacked your groceries.
Food stuff can be composted (and all that stuff we should not put in our outdoor compost piles for Bear Aware purposes, there is a product out there that that you use in a bin inside your home that composts quickly and without odour so you can compost all of those food bits and keep Yogi and Boo Boo at bay).
Having said all of this, my bags, all 14, 643 of them (because for a while I made myself buy new ones every time I forgot them) are in the trunk of my car, and like I said, I STILL forget to take them in sometimes, so I am not all squeaky clean and shiny over this issue.
But, I am trying a lot harder to remember them, and hey, the trunk of my car is better than the house where I used to leave them, hence the accumulation. And at the youth centre, we are going to be making bags as a way to raise funds, out of all recycled material, so heck, you could deal one for the environment and the valley youth at the same time! Heh heh.
Just imagine.
A valley without disposable bags.
Dudes, we’d kinda be heroes.

hmmm

I bought an amazing little black dress. It is very kind of va-va-voom... now I just need to figure out how to date again.

Click...

Sometimes, even with people you care about, there is not that intimate friendship right away.
The "click" moment happens at a different time for all of us.
Tonight was the click moment for me and Angela, and I am most pleased by this.
It is not that I did not care, or that she did not, but we never had the same relationship as I had with a couple of the others in the Sisterhood of the Travelling Teacup... but like all things, different people drift in on their own time, and the teacup circle changes for the better with each addition, different aspects of each adding her own unique flavour and tradition.
Truly it is a living entity, and tonight... tonight Ang and I clicked to our groove.
Most excellent.
:)

First, an update... and renewed hope...

Norm is progressing slowly but surely... this is Kim's update as of today (July 28).
Thank you all for your loving words...
xo
Stevie

"July 28

Well Norman is heading in the right direction. They have taken him off all the drugs that paralyzed him, the sedatives, and the heart meds. He is not fighting the breathing tube and they are giving him some pain meds.

They have removed the new feeding tube in his belly, as the nurse was not confident it was working properly. So they have done an X-ray and are doing a CAT scan tonight to check things out in there. We do not need a repeat of what happened Thurs/Fri. They will decide if it should go back in or not.

So, slowly things are going in the right direction. As for me, I think it's all kind of hit me in the last 24 hrs what is really happening. I will be concentrating on myself this week, so I will apologise up front if I am not as diligent with my updates or as up beat as I have been in the past weeks.

I will be going to see Norman by myself on Wed and that I cannot wait for. To spend some time by ourselves will be good therapy for me if no one else.

Thank you everyone for just being there.

Love and Hugs...Kim"

so sad....

Norm had a major setback last yesterday....

You are my sunshine...

I love you both to the moon and back.
Thank you for enriching my life as you do.
xo

It’s all a matter of circuits

My newspaper column this week.

“Stephanie, you changed colour! Nice software!”
That line, originally uttered by robot Number 5 from the 1986 movie Short Circuit, was the bane of my high school existence… and the culprit most likely to utter it, huge grin plastered to his face, was my pal Norm Gagatek.
We were a pretty tight knit group. We were the band geeks, the science wing squad… we were the Columbia Valley Goonies.
But one of our number now needs our support.
On Saturday July 5, Norm had a small stroke and was Stars ambulanced to Foothills Hospital in Calgary. Even though a stroke as small as the one he had is usually undetectable, this one occurred in the brain stem. What was most affected was his wake up function, and for several days he was considered to be in a coma. Also affected is his vision.
His motor functions were not affected, but there are other effects of the stroke for Norm to overcome.
There is, of course, a worst case and best case scenario, but I, and I know many other people, are putting their energy into focusing on the best case scenario which will see Norm home with wake up function and all motor skills intact.
Norm’s wife Kim has been a rock, and even if she did not have so many friends and family members rallying around her, as well as everyone from home offering her support, I believe she would still be as strong and resilient as she is. No small feat when she is also caring for their four-year-old and expecting a teeny Mini-Norm (or Mini-Kim) in early 2009!
As so often seems to happen with our community, people have rallied.
Messages to Kim and Norm on their Facebook support page (Norm Gagatek Support if you are looking for it) and visits from old and not so old friends have I know meant the world to them.
It is hard to say just how long Norm’s recovery will take. But the more positive energy sent his and Kim’s way the better. And if you are in Calgary, or can make a trip in, Kim has said visits from friends are helping immensely. Check with the nursing staff about good visiting hours.
Who has not at some point been the recipient of Norm’s giant heart and will to help out? Few can say they have ever asked something of him and had him say no. I doubt anyone can.
Even last Monday, when at the last minute we needed someone to tow our Canada Day float for the youth centre, it was Norm who came through for us, adding to his already hectic schedule, and doing so with a smile and asking nothing in return. It may sound cliché, but they truly did break the mold after they made our Normy.
I saw him just two days after the stroke. He did not open his eyes or talk, but he squeezed my hand when I made bad jokes, and when I was lippy… a squeeze of the hand might not quite be a snappy comeback, but it go the message across: he was listening and boy when he fully wakes up am I going to hear an earful!
I don’t want to update his progress at this point because as I sit writing this it is Saturday evening, and by Wednesday when you will be reading this, and I am having a visit with him, who knows what leaps and bounds he might have made.
Suffice to say, each day brings new hope, new achievements, and new strength to meet the challenges ahead.
And for possibly the first time ever, I am hoping to hear those familiar words, with the familiar laugh and predictable smirk: Stephanie, you changed colour! Nice software.”
You only get one free one Norm. I expect to hear it soon.

My friend Norm.

My dear childhood friend Norm had a stroke last Saturday. It was very small, and had it been anywhere else in his head it would have been but a twinge.
But it was not anywhere else, it was at the top of his brain stem in his hippocampus.
That is a very very bad place to have a stroke. And a one in a million shot.
Every day he improves a little, but this will be a hell of a battle. But if anyone can do it, it is my friend Norm.
Please send good thoughts his way. He has a wife who is pregnant and a son who is four.
And he is wonderful.
There is a support page for him on facebook. It is called Norm Gagatek Support.
If you feel like stopping by it.
Love to all, loving you all, believing in every one of you.
xo
Stevie

see...

so wrapped in a steel gauze of our own myopic making
we rail against life and all its injustices
why me... how come... not fair... wah wah...
negative negative... and two negatives a positive most certainly do not make
then something happens outside your little bubble of Id
you see true trials
you see true struggle
you see true strength and grace under circumstances that would bring most to their knees
and you do not hear why me... how come... not fair...
you hear instead I am holding up well,
we will get through this
you hear laughter through pain,
strength when it would seem none could be found.
and you look at yourself with no small shame, and cut away the gauze, stop whining and complaining
breathe deep and count blessings
push away the negative and forge forward for what counts
and stand strong to help the ones who need you.

Get better Norm... you are strong... we are waiting for you.
xo

And so it is over...

At this point I should tell you all Ian and I have split.
Actually, it was December. But for various reasons, some of which I truly did not agree with but respected Ian's wishes, we have not been terribly vocal about it.
But I have felt rather bad not letting you all in on this news, as you all mean a great deal to me and I have wanted to tell you.
At this point, we are still living in the same house, and will until a) I find a place to afford on my own, and b) until we come across a couple of roommates that will be decent ones for Ian.
My intention is for him to keep the house. It means to much more to him than me, and gives him the stability and equity he has craved for so long.
There are no bad guys in this scenario, and those closest to me were not surprised. We have no animosity towards each other, and I still have great respect for him, and I believe him for me.
So changes are afoot, but in the end, we will both be happy.
Love to you all.... and I am sorry for not sharing this rather enourmous news earlier, especially to you Rache. I have no idea if he told you or not, but I felt it his place to do so. Now, not knowing for certain if he has, I felt you should know before our girl arrives home and safe in your loving arms. She knows something is afoot, but it was Ian's wish not to tell her. She knows though, that no matter what, she is my soul child, and I could not love her more had I given birth to her myself. She will always remain my daughter, one you have so graciously allowed me to have, for whom I am forever grateful.
S

or....

or perhaps Italy.

and so...

I want to move to Nova Scotia.

3:49 a.m.

Late night brings early morn
And Cuervo ramblings.
A mind and heart project...
A thought
A wish
A notion
A perfection...
What lies beneath perfect calm?
But currents deep
And eddies strong
A lasting truth
Forgiving fear
A wonder if
Forever near.
Testing baiting living waiting
Long lines of ramparts
Contemplating
Would that numbness replace the pain
Would that sun erase the rain
And in due time would triumph be
The place and present soliloquy.
Words sent and spoken
Haste made strange
Spoken… heard
Forgiveness reign.
The soul once raped finds solitude
But when and where and why eludes.
A prayer comes forth
To Goddess which
In truth can be answered only by the one
Who gives it birth.


(ps.... I am fine...)

oh so true....

"I would be a naughty God..."

A series of unfortunate and fortunate events....

So, sometimes you have to really wonder.
Last night something happened that could be viewed as lucky or unlucky, depending on your perspective.
I had gone into Calgary to see Left Spine Down, my startling beautiful Dru’s startling beautiful lover Denyss’ Vancouver based band. Over the past few months I had flaked out on her twice already due to work commitments, so I was determined to be there for this performance at The Underground in Calgary. And seeing as how these two awful plastic Goth girls, both of whom outweigh Dru significantly, and for whatever reason (jealousy I am sure) have both acted in threatening manners, even at one point one of them hitting Dru on the dance floor under the auspice of not perhaps being clear on mosh etiquette, I was not prepared to leave her side until she and Denyss were in the car and on the way to her apartment.
That was nearly 2:30 a.m.
My plan was to head over to Twisted Element to visit my two favourite drag queen friends Tara and Laura and talk about plans for a gay pride event in the East Kootenay.
And I know exactly where Twisted is, but for some reason, went down the wrong street.
Realizing my mistake, I circled around to get on the right street, which is one way.
As I rounded the last corner, an ambulance shot past me, and I saw the aftermath of a REALLY recent crash, like maybe a few minutes tops.
And as I carefully navigated around it, I saw standing in the street, Denyss and Dru, both looking very rattled, the unfortunate occupants of the smashed vehicle I was now stopped beside.
Of course I parked immediately and ran over to poor Dru who was wide eyed and shaking violently.
“Steph I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what happened.”
As I held her I looked over at Denyss, also pale but retaining, I must say, an impressive calm.
The long and short is this: as they headed home, with three green lights in front of them, Dru, who was driving, began to cross an intersection and was broadsided by another car, driven by a young woman who had been clubbing with her three friends. I am not sure just how many drinks were in that other driver, but it was obvious she had had at least a few, and her friends several. Luckily she and two of her passengers were ok, the forth sustaining only minor injuries but having to be extricated from the back seat of the car.
Dru does not drink at all. I feel compelled to point that out, as well as the fact she is a very careful driver.
The other car hit them with enough force to spin them around and slam them into a light standard on the other side of the street.
Had the timing been even slightly different, this story would have a tragic outcome as she would have hit my Dru’s driver’s side door and I don’t even want to think of what may have happened. And thankfully both Ds were wearing their seatbelts.
I am incredibly grateful I took the wrong street and came upon them. My cell was off, and though Dru’s first thought was to dial me, I would not have received the call. I am even more thankful they are both ok. Bumps and bruises and sore muscles, but essentially fine.
The car, however, was totaled.
So, you could say they were unfortunate to be in the accident. I prefer to think they were incredibly fortunate to be ok.
What a way to meet Denyss for the first time, and Denyss, though I am sure you will never read this, Dru will, and I want to say I was honestly touched by the care you took of her, and how calm and level headed you remained. Your concern for everyone around you, including the occupants of the other car, speak volumes for who you are, and I am glad you are in my Dru’s life, even if only when the two of you can be.
And Dru, Dearest Dru, you were so very strong throughout the entire episode. I was… am… so very proud of you. You are made of stern stuff and I hope you realize how impressive it is that while most people would have fallen apart, you did not.
I love you. Thank you for being ok.
xoxo
ADDENDUM:
I fear I made Dru out to be weak and wimpy and that is not the case, so I would like to add that, though she is slim and tiny, Dru also tosses around bales of hay at her place of employment, and if she had to I am sure could handle herself quite well, but two against one you know... not cricket, hence my concern for her well being in regards to the plastic goth girls.

late night awaiting dawn...

and here once again
in the belly of the night
stealing pandoraesque moments through doors best left unopened
cursing wishing missing bereaving
a cacophony of silence screaming wordless into the water
a lesson never learned in claiming insight and hating what was there
head straight eyes up never let them see you tremble
even though your very soul is bleeding with the cruel slashes made by your own hand
a thousand apologies whispered half heartedly
promises predestined for failure placed lurid on the windowsill to await the dawn
do not look when you know it will cut
masochistic tendency entangles with pride and self indulgence
a napalm of emotion burning hot through skin, bone, soul
tears offering only moments of relief
but while assuaging the immediate same tears leave behind ghosts of what might have been
a wish… a wish… of stairways and dark roads leading everywhere and nowhere
a thought to old scars and back again, then focus on new and work harder harder harder until all breath is gone and pulse races dangerous
dawn will come… though slow to rise… and passion works both sides of the battle
neither wholly pure not wholly sin
devil’s advocate just the same….

Zany conversations...

So there is really almost no video to these two clips as it was very dark, just the odd bit of light now and then, but it did capture the atmosphere of the late night laps around the track at the 12 hours Relay For Life last night. The voices are of myself and my young friend Zane, 20, whom I conned into the relay again this year with just half a cookie....

The first is less than a minute, the second just over five minutes... Zany conversation....
:)
S


Da yoot centre relay team: Team Quest!

Fantabulous.........

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
neath the cover of october skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the nights magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Can I just have one a more moondance with you, my love
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
And when you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that youre never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me that you cant hide

Can I just have one a more moondance with you, my love
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
neath the cover of october skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the nights magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

One more moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more dance with you.... my love

Thermal view....

If I were thermalized....

das daughter

sure she looks innocent... but you should see the tub.... pperrrrrple.......

sleep Data, sleep....

oh my god... I am so.. fucking... tired.

dog days.....

Well.

It has been quite a day and a half.
Mike and Ian planned some time ago to take all our assorted children to West Edmonton Mall.
Minus me of course.
Which suits me fine as I am not really a huge fan of the place.
But of course, this arrangement resulted in the assumption I would care for Mike’s Jack Russell Terror, Jake. And no, that is not a typo.

Now, first of all, as Mike and I share custody of our nearly grown boys and they live with him three days per week, he gave me a key to the house so if ever they needed to get in I could open the door.
However, he recently had to change his locks, and in doing so, entrusted the key he had cut for me to my darling 18-year-old Justin.
Justin promptly lost said key.
But thinking he knew where it was, we didn’t bother to tell Mike so as to avoid the whole lecture about not losing keys.
So here is a brief point form outline of my last 48 hours:

Sunday afternoon: Mike leaves, I head to his house and let dog out. On my way out I lock the door.

Sunday evening: I go to let dog out for last pee, realize I have no key, say several bad words, and climb in through side window, incurring several scrapes on the way in.
I say more bad words. And lock door on way out.

Monday morning: I realize I must let dog out again. But again face a locked door. I consider having myself checked for Alzheimer's. One kid goes with me and I send him through the window. Younger children take bus to school.
I let dog out, collect items for trip to Edmonton for youngest son, and take oldest son to school… this time leaving the door unlocked.

Monday afternoon: make frenzied trip to get tires balanced before weekend conference, renew my car insurance which ran out 10 days previous (oops) and run around doing various chores before deciding dog should just come home with me for the next two days instead of being all alone. Head to house, collect dog and dog food, walk out door and lock it. Realize I left daughter’s Ipod inside. Immediately realize my error in locking door. More bad words.

Take dog to my house, walk in, take him off leash.
Dog sees cat. Cat sees dog. Much insanity ensues. Did not realize cat could fly. Did not realize I should get out of the way.
Cat finds hiding place, dog is quivering with excitement regarding cat, I wash much blood from wounds on both arms incurred in cat meeting dog incident.

More badder words.

Find cat, put him in my room with door closed and all necessities. Find dog. Discuss finer points of interspecies manners and pecking order. Cat was here first.

Go pick kids up from school. Break into house for a third time and ponder the legalities of actions.

Get stuff. Make sure we have all stuff. Triple check that we have all stuff. Go back for dog bed. Lock door.

Kids and men leave.

Monday evening: make dinner, write, watch some tv. Ensure cat/dog segregation complete. Go to bed.

Dog whines.

Dog cries.

Dog gets into garbage.

I sigh.

Pat the cat on head and take blanket and pillow downstairs to sleep on couch to shut dog up… but clean up garbage on kitchen floor first. Have serious discussion with dog about interspecies manners again.

Lie down on couch. Dog leaps up and lies down on me.

I sigh.

Dog is happy.

Dog sleeps.

I do not.

And that concludes today’s episode of Adventures in Dog Sitting. Stay tuned. The little runt is here for another night.

Happy Birthday Scotty

Dear Scott

I turned around ever so briefly when you were a boy, and when I turned back, you were man.
When did it happen?
My sweet baby boy, who was never cross and always smiled, will turn 15 tomorrow… no longer a baby, and still rarely cross! Lol!

When you were very small, and I was far away and my heart was so heavy, you told me on the phone “oh mommy, the sun is still shining, the clouds are just in the way.”
Such wisdom for someone so small… I carry that in my heart every day.

I remember when you were borne there was some damage from the forceps, and the doctors said you would never totally open your one eye. But every day I would stroke that side of your face, and you would smile your sweet crooked little smile, and every day it got straighter, and you proved them all wrong.

Your big brother so adored you… and would pick you up any chance he got. That bond has never waivered.
Justin has always been the other half of your team. What more could a mother ask than that?
The two of you have always had such a connection… never even apart for more than a couple of days until you were nine. And even then you said, “that was too long… I don’t want to be away from Justin that long again.”
Of course, you have managed to do just that many times since! But it does my heart good to know the two of you are still so close. And you are both such amazing, gracious, good men. I am as proud as I could ever be.
Of course, there is the more nerve wracking aspect to that kinship… like the plans for Justin to design planes that you would test fly. But he made it into the sky ahead of you, and of course this summer you want to follow.

When Hayley was stung by a bee in the yard at Carriage Court Apartments, it was you that put your arm around her shoulders and led her steadily up the stairs, holding her stung hand gently in yours.
Already you were taking care of people. So kind and such a gentleman. We watched from the balcony where Justin had rushed ahead to tell us.
You were four, and she just three and a half.

When you fell out of a tree and broke your arm that same summer, you cried and clung to me with the other arm when the bone was reset. But then when that beastly, arrogant doctor asked if you were going to climb trees again, you sat up straight, looked him right in the eye and said, “Yup, I just aren’t going to fall out again.”
Showed him. You’ve climbed everything in sight ever since. No wonder your Aunt Daphne called you Monkey Boy-Boy and forgot your real name for a year.

You treat your elders with respect, you hold the door open for everyone, not just ladies, you shake hands firmly and with confidence, and I know how hard that can be when you are feeling shy.

Every day I watch you venture further into the adult world, and I know somewhere along the line I did something right with you… and I smile.

And now, here you are. My Scooter, my baby boy no more.
Happy birthday my darling.
I love you to the moon… and back.

And that is far… very, very far.

Xo
Mom

Of spring moments and time....

The birds call and answer, the wetlands alive with their song of spring and renewal. This place, this very special place, is home to dozens of species, including the osprey, common merganse, northern harrier, Cooper’s, rough-legged, sharp-shinned and red-tailed hawks, merlins, peregrine falcons, bald and golden eagles, sandhill cranes, sandpipers, gulls of all varieties, terns, owls, doves, woodpeckers, hummingbirds, swallows and corvids of all kinds, wrens, bluebirds, thrushes and warblers, purple finches and red crossbills, red winged black birds, Canada geese, ducks of all variety… the list goes on.
I sit and listen to them, wishing I knew what they were communicating to one another. The first mosquito of the year buzzes past, giddy and fat with the blood of its first victim.
It is well and truly here: spring.
Soon the wetlands will swell, pregnant with the glacial waters flowing from the mountains surrounding us.
Endless abundance of life will be borne, surround and infuse us with the knowledge that the greater strength lies in the natural world around us, a power and beauty we could never hope to match in anything less than abject adoration of it.
While the natural world gears up for activity and the toil of new life and love, it is incumbent upon us to take pause and allow for the wonder if it all. To slow down, even for a moment, and take it all in…
I have written similar sentiment before, and some of you may remember from columns years past. But it bears reminding, for myself as much as anyone, to slow down, be patient, and take care to not take for granted the gifts this life has bestowed upon me.
And gifts I have had aplenty, four that come to mind first, and I know there will more that will enter into my life when the time is right. I hear the whisper in the breeze flowing through those tall grasses just across the yard, calling to me to reach deep within myself and embrace the positive, hold it close and let it infuse me.
A friend of mine sent me a quote that has fast become one of my favourites, and it goes like this:
"Do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am – a reluctant enthusiast…a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards."
-- Edward Abbey
Hear hear.

My campers!

An amazing weekend... and truly there has been formed a heck of a cup winning team!
My youth empowerment camp, River of Change 2, was this past weekend, and Sunjay Nath, Joe Quercia and I are a heck of a team, I must say. Really looking forward to working with these two again for the 2009 River of Change and with Joe this fall on a wilderness survival camp.
Here are a couple of shots, one of the whole group and one of the three of us: left to right, Joe, me, Sunjay.
I am off to make my much belated rounds to your blogs! I have been most negligent!
xxx
Stevie

Kidnapped! Finale: Emily is found.

Kidnapped! Part 6: we made it to the ground....

Kidnapped! Part 5: Flight of the Valkries....

Kidnapped! Part 4: We are never landing....

Kidnapped! Part 3: Sadly, we could not sit with Emily....

Kidnapped! Part 2: Update on the Canadian Shield fly by....

Kidnapped! Part 1: help help help!!!!!!!

back soon....

hey all...
I will be back soon... on the conference trail... love to you all...
Stevie

Scott at Not Quite Carnegie Hall.

So I wanted to vlog a sample of Scott on the piano for ages... and wanted to record him playing Fur Elise... but sadly our 108 year old Nordheimer Cabinet Grand blew the middle C key recently, and it is fairly important to the piece! Here he is playing Melody by Viktor Kossenko... um... and round about the middle, my computer, Alex, announced the time... hee hee!
So there are a few missing Cs in this piece, but far fewer than in the Fur Elise. I am very proud of his rendition though so I will record him on a piano NOT missing middle C.
So without further ado.... I give you, Scott Stevens, performing live at the Moorish Mansion.



Val, I added this next vlog because I took it (using my computer, so neither are the best of recordings... will have to get a proper vid cam soon) at Scott's lesson today. He is playing a piece by Bach, and while the piece is fairly short, the vid is long because you will finally get a taste of The Russian Piano Teacher, Inga. She absolutely ADORES Scott but she is so strict! Her vision is all but gone now, and she will be risking cataract surgery soon. For her is is a risk because she has had retinal detachment in both eyes, and one is totally blind, so losing the other will mean never reading music again. I am hoping she might consider brail... but...
About three quarters of the way through, if you listen, she says to Scott "ah! told you million times..." when he does not continue with a crescendo long enough. I am glad to have caught it because she is so funny when she says it, it is her favourite frustrated expression, and one day Scott will look back at this video and laugh at the memory!
anyhow, it about 11 minutes and I don't expect you to watch it all, but by the end you can hear the improvement her method makes already!
xo
Stevie
(ok, still trying to get the vid on... having technical difficulties)

As per the Dragon's order.

Ok, someone told me recently that I need to laugh more to relieve stress… so I am going to tell you a story that is long overdue in the telling and hope it makes you all laugh… it always cracks me up.

This story is called Rachel and the chickens.

Rachel, my Dearest Dru, is a dear young friend of mine who grew up in Invermere. She is tall, very slim, and very gorgeously goth. Rachel is also vegan.
This is a photo of Rachel that I lifted from her facebook... sadly it is quite small, so I will ask her to shoot me over a larger one. (I really love this one by the way Dearest Dru. You are gorgeous.)



While her parents were away and she was taking care of the house, her mother asked her to be sure to go and pick up the Hutterite chickens she had ordered.
Now, a lot of people in the valley order Hutterite chickens. They are generally much larger than your regular grocery store offerings, and much less prone to have chemicals in them.
You pre-order, and when the chicken man arrives with his big freezer equipped truck you collect your order and pay up.
So Rachel, being a good daughter, agrees to pick up her mother’s chickens for her despite the fact she abhors meat. The appointed day arrives, and she drives to the specified pick up zone, but as it was a busy summer Saturday with the farmer’s market in full swing, Rachel had to park a couple of blocks away, walk down to the crowded market area and attempt to find the Chicken Man.
Weaving her way through market shoppers and vendor’s stalls, Rachel searched in vain for the Chicken Man.
Round and round the market… peering around corners and asking people she knew as they passed, “have you seen the Chicken Man?”
Finally she found a large truck tucked in behind Gerry’s Gelati, a café that opens up and faces the busy marketplace.
Rachel, by this time more than a little harried, went to the back of the truck to find the Chicken Man… but there was no one there…
A tad on the frustrated side, Rachel waits a few minutes, then climbs up into the back of the truck (clarify for me Dearest Dru, were you in a skirt? I seem to recall you saying you were in a skirt with fishnets… but I could be wrong) and peeks into the deep freeze. Sure enough, there were chickens in there, frozen ones, and one of the bags had her mother’s name on it.
Then, without warning or preamble, she hears a voice demand what she is doing in the truck.
Turning, she finally laid eyes on him: it was the Chicken Man.
“I am picking up chickens for my mother,” Rachel explained.
The Chicken Man hoisted himself in to the truck and popped open the freezer again, taking the cheque from Rachel and handing a large bag of dead, frozen, very not vegan approved chickens.
Clutching them to her chest to keep from the chickens from dropping, the horrified Rachel began her trek back to the car, bobbing and weaving through the market again and making her way back up to the parking lot, all the while her arms wrapped around the icy cold bag pressed against her.
By the time I saw her several hours later at the video store she worked at, she had a slightly manic look in her eyes. Up until that point, she had not had anyone to relate her tale to.
She saw me… and blurted out “Chickens!” or something to that effect and proceeded to tell me about her experience.
I should point out that up until this very moment in time, Rachel and I were really just acquaintances, and this was the moment we broke the barrier fully into friendship.
Every time I imagine her clutching that bag of frozen chickens to her chest I smile… and more often than not, crack up.
So there you have it. Rachel and the Frozen Chickens. Kind of has a vegan children’s horror novel ring to it, don’t you think?

Disclaimer: To protect innocent chickens the names of none were changed.

I forgot to show you my new tattoo!

I forgot to show you my new tattoo! I had it done about a month ago.
The question did arise, as I announced my intention to run for political office, if I were elected, how the other regional directors would feel about their new counterpart sporting several tattoos... was good for a laugh!
So yes, I am running for Regional District of East Kootenay Area F Director this fall. Whew. Long winded title. Long story short, I was asked to consider running a few months ago, and made the decision the other night. I figure with all the growth and development, there needs to be someone representing the residents who does not have a personal agenda. So, we'll see what happens. But don't worry, I won't become one of THOSE politicians!

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

Please click to enlarge to ensure all pertinent information can be read.
Thank you,
The Management.

Remember all those things your mother told you not to do?

Ah. the sweet smell of disinfectant and cast plaster.

Just let me look in your ear...

So a doctor, a plumber and a priest walk into a bar....
I had to do something as I awaited my turn...

Well hell’s bells if they really truly are not good things to do.
Dumb as hell things to do, really. You know the things I mean…
Don’t tip your chair back on two legs or you’ll fall and break your neck.
Don’t run with scissors or you’ll fall and stab yourself dead.
Don’t play with matches you’ll burn down the whole neighbourhood and kill us all.
Don’t put things in your ear, you’ll break your eardrum and go deaf.
Don’t ever go out without clean underwear or you’ll be in an accident and die with dirty underwear and WHAT will the doctor think of you then?
You know, all those paranoid, goofy, never really gonna happen dire consequence scenarios that make us all roll our eyes and groan, “yes mom.”
Well, here’s the thing. That one about your eardrum? Pretty much bang on.
It all started when I had a shower yesterday late morning, after working at home a while and feeding stray teenagers buttermilk pancakes (which, incidentally, I make better than anyone in the known universe) with peanut butter and sliced bananas, and as I stood in front of the steamed up mirror brushing my teeth, chose most unwisely to try and do two things at once.
Now I should point out that I was running on a grand two hours of sleep, for reasons I will not go into just now. But suffice to say, I was not running on, shall we say, all six cylinders, or driving, shall we say, a Ford Mustang…
So, in my infinite wisdom, I decide, “hey, my ears are all watery, I could grab a Q-Tip and dry them.”
Now, just let me say I am generally very, VERY careful when I Q-Tip my ears. I never roughly jab it in, or go too far. And I never do anything else while I am Q-Tipping (not to be mistaken for cow tipping).
But this particular morning, a morning when I apparently chose to go with cute instead of bright, I not only do two things at once, I chose to go one step further into the land of unfortunate decisions: I let go of the Q-Tip in my ear and left it there a moment while I… well, I don’t know just why I let go of the damn thing… I just did. In the immortal words uttered in the aftermath of stupid moments throughout time, —all together now because you know you’ve said it — it just seemed like a good idea at the time.
So there I stood, teeth foaming with toothpaste, Q-Tip sticking out one ear, and I decided to… I decided to… hmmm, well, near as I can piece together, I decided to reach up above my head… quickly, without purpose but with all the strength of conviction I can muster… and in the process accidentally jammed that Q-Tip straight into my ear.
And when I say I jammed it in, I mean I JAMMED IT IN.
First there was shock: shock at the really creepy sound that exploded in my head, shock at the sight of the thing so far into my ear, and shock at the realization of how incredibly stupid I was at the moment, all in the space of about a bazillionth of a second.
Then came the pain.
I pulled the Q-Tip out quickly but carefully, and cupped my hand over my ear. A strange sort of numbness was taking over, as was a significantly reduced sense of sound, but a definite feeling of thumpa thumpa thumpa thwack, which I realized much later was the sound of blood rushing into my ear canal.
I stumbled down the hall, now starting to realize the true Stooge Brothery of what I have done, and announce to Lindy and Mike, who were sprawled happily on couches with tummies full of pancakes and nearly purring like kittens, that I have just jammed a Q-Tip in my ear, and surprise surprise, it hurts!
Unwilling to truly consider the damage I may have done, I take some ibuprofin and head off to take darling Lindy and Mike to town and get myself work much later in the day than normal.
By late that evening, my ear, down my face and into my neck was aching like a giraffe in a Mini Cooper, and my niece, the ever fabulous Miss Margery convinces me that I really should see a doctor the next day. The dried blood I discovered in my ear also helped convince me.
So the next afternoon, as I could not get into the clinic, I end up, with my mom no less, sitting in the emergency room waiting room for my turn.
Of course, I have to explain to the nurse, who funnily enough I have known for many years but won’t name to protect her (Ann Richardon), just what I did.
Laughing and shaking her head, she took my blood pressure, temperature, etc and then sent me back to the waiting room, her eyes still filled with mirth.
It was a busy Friday in the ER. My mom finally had to start the drive home to Golden, and after nearly four hours, finally I was on a stretcher awaiting the doc on call, whom, as fate would once again have it, because fate has a twisted sense of humour, is my regular doc, whom I will not name to protect her(Theresa Ross). She walks in and asks, not so much smiling as grinning, “so what’s this about you jamming a Q-Tip into your ear?”
To give her credit, she succeeded in not REALLY laughing as she had a good look at my bruised and bloodied eardrum with the Q-Tip sized gouge in the canal in front of it.
She saved the laughter to share with Ann as I walked sheepishly over to the desk to collect my prescription for the eardrops I was to use.
Don’t get your knickers in a knot though. Both of these women are women I consider friends, and frankly, the whole thing was just too ridiculous not to laugh at, and I could not help but join in.
So the top and bottom is, I am very lucky, my eardrum is bruised but intact, I should have full hearing back in a few weeks, I am bending all the Q-Tips to ninety degree angles to prevent over-insertion, and I am rethinking that whole underpants thing pretty seriously.