One Year Today

It was a year ago today, November 5th, that I had to take my old friend to the vet to be put down.

He was a 14 1/2 year old Shepherd/Rottweiler cross with the unlikely name of Chism (this is what happens when you let your kid name your dog...).

I had known him since the day he was born. I came home from work and saw my neighbour sitting on her lawn; in her lap were two newborn puppies. They didn't even know her dog was pregnant, until she gave birth!

I pleaded with my neighbour to let me have the male one, and after some convincing, she agreed.

Chism was a dog only a mother could love. Strong, willful, bullheaded, destructive, vicious.... He never sat still. He would walk around and around and around and around the coffee table, trot down the hallway, trot back and walk around and around and around and around the coffee table. He would shred the garbage. He would tear the fence down trying to attack the little old lady meandering past. He wouldn't shut up. He was virtually untrainable.

Note: Never get a Rottweiler/Shepherd cross as your first dog.

Over the years he proved himself to be the most protective dog a person could ask for. No one could come into the house until the dog was satisfied. While this was a hassle, I will say it was a great comfort. I was a single mom for several years, and even when I was with my husband he worked nights a lot. Chism was the best protector I could have had.

Around age 12 he started to limp quite a bit. He was slowing down a lot, his fur was dulling, his eyes were unfocused, he wasn't eating much and he had lost his zest. I went to my local independent pet store to ask for an end-of-life painkiller; they recommended a super strength joint compound with glucosamine, MSM and other natural things for joint health. I thought this was like changing the oil in a car just to drive it to the junkyard, but alright.

Within a day Chism was walking up the stairs, running in the yard and bounding around again. This compound took 7 years off his life! He was like a 5 year old again. His eyes were clear, his fur was glossy, and he was his old perky self.

This stuff kept him young and fit for two years, when gradually I could see him decline. He started limping again. His eyes were dulling again. His appetite was weak.

As we went for his walks he became slower and slower. He could go only short distances. Then he started to stumble. His hips would give out and he would be stuck on the ground; he would scream in pain as I tried to pick him up.

On Halloween 2007 his hips gave out entirely. He couldn't get up. He barely made it home.

Oh well, the internet is full of good information. I searched for options for him. Medicines, surgery, you name it.

I realized, at the ripe old age of 14 1/2 human years, that he would not likely survive surgery. Or if he did, he would not recover well.

I had to make the decision.

I had to end his life.

The day I realized that this time had come, my heart broke in a million pieces. How can you decide to have your best friend, your protector, your old fluff, killed?

I phoned the vet on Friday. The soonest they could get us in was Monday, Nov. 5th.

Those days were more agonizing than I can possibly describe. It was helpful, in fact, to talk to a number of other people who had been through this. I was committed to attend a birthday party on Nov. 3, so I went. I talked to everybody there about it; everyone there had owned dogs. They all told their stories. Some people had waited too long with their dogs, and the dogs' suffering was immeasurable. One dog's eye imploded and his kidneys failed. Another dog was in so much agony he couldn't sit, stand, lie, anything -- he would just stand there and shriek.

With a heavy heart I knew I had to follow through with this appointment. Chism's quality of life was down the tubes. It would take him almost an hour to get outside to pee. He couldn't eat.

I sat and talked to him. I told him how much I loved him, how much I appreciated what he had brought to my life. I told him I never liked dogs much before I met him, but now I love dogs because of him. As I stroked him and talked to him, he struggled to get some balance, then he put his paw on my shoulder. It fell to the floor with a thump a few seconds later. It was all he could give. It was enough.

The evening before was agony. He had his last banana, his last sleep, his last night. The morning saw his last walk. He ate his last cookies on the way to the vet. He knew something was up.

As the sleeping medicine took effect Chism slid down into my arms, and I got to cradle my old friend as his life slipped away.

Leaving him behind at the vet was so hard. (Having the ditz yell after me, "Have a nice day!" was even harder. Schmuck.)

Although his body is gone, I know his soul lives on. But, that's for another post.

Rest in peace, my old friend. Thank you for being my doggie.

Love,

Mommy

A Simple Request

*Pooffffff*

I need to blow the dust off the blog.

I have lots in my mind to write about; the problem is, when I go to do so (hey! Four two-letter words in a row!), I cannot separate and condense any one thought. It's all a mash.

So I'll leave today with a request.

I have been nagging my husband for a dog. Our old friend died last year at the ripe old age of 14 1/2 years. His name was Chism and he was a Rottweiler/Shepherd cross whose joints had been failing miserably. Glucosamine was helpful for over two years, but one day, at this time of year in fact, he suddenly collapsed and could hardly walk. After a few days of searching the internet for cures and ideas, I finally realized the only humane solution was to have him put down. I have never been in greater agony. He had been my friend since he was born and now he was gone.



It took me quite a long time, but I am thinking I am ready for another dog. I have accepted that Chism is gone in body but not in spirit, and I think he would like if I gave another dog a home.

I am madly in love with this dog. I have been crazy about him since the beginning of October. My husband? He doesn't like the dog. No good reason, he just doesn't like the way he looks.

Seriously. Look at that dog! Isn't he a doll?

So my request is this: Help me find a way to talk my husband into letting me get this dog. I've tried.

Ready? Set... GO!

A Funeral Story

Today I attended a funeral for Caiden Peters, a little boy who died 2 months before his 6th birthday.

He had battled AML, Acute Myelogenous Leukemia, for 26 months before he became one of the rare people to die from the disease itself; apparently most people die from the treatments. Either way, this brand of leukemia is pernicious and horrid.

His mother, Lisa Peters, had kept up an online journal detailing his progress.

We all read along, rooting for his progress. We cheered when he had good days, where he could run over the nurses' toes with his tricycle. We held our breath when he had bad days, when his pain was so bad he required morphine.

We cried when his friends in the hospital died. We hoped his outcome would be different.

We agonized when the journal told us that he was terminal. Over 91% of his white blood cells were cancerous. He would not survive the preparations for a bone marrow transplant. All there was to do was to make him comfortable.

He died 8 days later. 2 months before he turned 6. He never even had a visit from the Tooth Fairy. He never got to blow out six candles. He won't get to see Santa.

So many people were crushed. The poor little boy. The poor family.




Today was his funeral. So many people were expected, that they had attendants in the parking lot.

His urn was at the front of the room, with his blankie wrapped around his stuffed kitty, and both of them leaning on the urn. His little suit was hanging near his favourite toys.

The service proceeded as they do, with people speaking, the minister offering words of comfort, pictures of Caiden on the screen while lullabies played. Noses were being blown throughout.

Caiden's mom's best friend, a lovely sweet little young lady named Pam, came up to speak about him. She could barely speak for the tears. Her voice shook with strain as she tried to offer a tidbit about him. She had nothing prepared; she just spoke.

Then she told this story:

"Caiden was a poltergeist alright. He always was a crazy little man. Even when he was in palliative care, he still had spunk. He said to me," ...here her voice really trembled... "'Auntie, sniff my butt!'" We all roared with laughter! Then she finished with, "So I did. But I made him sniff mine first!"

What a perfect tribute to a 6 year old boy! This was a fine illustration of his personality, and to hear it delivered by a sweet young lady who couldn't hold back the tears just made it even more perfect.

When I talked to her at the reception I told her how excellent her story was. She said she was shocked that she'd even told it; she'd had nothing in mind when she went up to the microphone, and was surprised to hear that story coming out.

I don't doubt that Caiden was behind her, whispering in her ear to "Tell that story, Auntie Pam!".

Godspeed, Caiden.



images courtesy of Caiden's blog at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/Caiden. See link above

Toronto Part *gasp* 7!!! *faints*

The trip was amazing, but truly gruelling.

On the very last day we had planned to go to the Zoo. Everyone who had been to the Toronto Zoo told us it's an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE! It's OUTSTANDING! You HAVE to SEE IT!!!!

Okay, okay. To me one zoo is like the next; wild animals imprisoned in a tiny cage without enough stimulation. Yes, they're safe from predators and poachers and disease. But they're in jail.

ANYWAY! I shouldn't go off on a tangent.

To get to the zoo would involve: a subway ride on one line; transfer to another subway line and ride it to the end; then wait God-knows-how-long for a bus; ride the bus for about 1/2 an hour. Then walk and walk and walk and walk around what is supposedly an ENORMOUS zoo all day. Then wait for the bus; take the bus for... well, you get the point.

At this stage of the game we were nearly dead. I have no idea how many miles we walked. We could have gone to the moon and back, I'm sure. Plus, our last day had high temperatures and the first smoggy haze I'd seen since I got there.

As amazing as the zoo sounded, frankly, we couldn't bear the thought of it. We wanted to stay close to the hotel, so we wandered around the waterfront for awhile.

Toronto sits on the shore of Lake Ontario, one of the Great Lakes. But for the absence of the salt-water smell, you would swear you were on the ocean. This lake is utterly enormous.

The waterfront is developed all along the way; much of it is just pathways, but there are harbours and such as well. We stopped at one area that had shopping, showers, a ballet theatre (!), restaurants, chartered boat rides, the whole bit. I was absorbed in a very cool jewelry store that actually had stuff I'd never seen before. I ended up buying a cracked zircon pendant (the cracks were supposed to be there!) with a silver chain.

After this short trip we had crapped out completely. By noon our son and I were back in the hotel room. The smog may have been aggravating our asthma too -- my son and I both have it, lucky us.

I had forgotten to mention a musical I had seen earlier in the week.

When we first arrived at our hotel, which was situated in the Entertainment District, we unpacked our stuff then decided to wander around the corner for pizza. Well. I turned the corner, and what do I see? A marquee for:

Evil Dead: The Musical

EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

I had watched Evil Dead so many times when it first came out, I probably wore out the tape! It was this campy horror movie that came out in 1981 or so, about five college kids breaking into a cabin in the woods and spending the night. They decided to explore the cellar (of course) and they found a chainsaw, an axe, a ceremonial dagger, and the Necronomicon. Of course, someone reads passages from the Necronomicon out loud. Of course, this raises evil spirits that possess the kids. Of course, the bridge leading to that part of the woods is suddenly broken into bits. Of course, the chainsaw and axe and dagger all come in handy. And of course, there is one survivor who went on to make Evil Dead 2: Still Dead and Army of Darkness, aka Evil Dead 3.

It's a gorefest that takes every stupid aspect of a horror movie and puts it all into one really stupid cult smash hit.

So, I see they've made it into a musical! Woo hooooo!!

At first I just looked at the marquee. A couple of days later I returned to take photos of it. Then I thought, you know, I'm staying right around the corner. Why the heck don't I go?

So I called the box office and bought a seat in The Woods. Seating was named according to how it might correspond with the show. The Woods is the farthest, crappiest seating. The Cabin had slightly better seating. The Cellar better yet. And the Splatter Zone and Splatter Zone Deluxe were exactly what you would imagine. They handed ponchos out to the people in the Splatter Zones. And boy, did they need them.

This show was like everything else in Toronto, utterly outstanding. The talent was fantastic -- these were real singers and dancers and actors. This was not like the community theatre we have here, where just anybody gets a part. These were professionals, and it showed.

The show played on the campiness of the original movie. For example, when the kids were trying to escape and they came to the bridge only to find the bridge was out, some stage hand shoved the bridge onto the stage (it was about 4 feet long and 2 feet wide) with yellow "Danger" tape wrapped around it. The cast all shrieked, "THE BRIDGE IS OUUUUT!!" You had to be there.

When the technical stuff mattered, they made it happen. There was one scene where the guy whacks the girl's head off with a chainsaw; they pulled a screen down on the scene, and you could see their shadows, and I swear, the chainsaw swinging and the head flying and the blood splattering was incredibly done. Click on the link earlier, to see that scene. There is a video running on the home page of the site that has that scene in it.

Near the end when almost all of the cast has been turned into Candarian demons and they are all being slaughtered, the blood was hysterical. There were literally FOUNTAINS of it spraying all over creation. If this show ever returns I will HAVE to sit in the Splatter Zone. :D

And that, my friends, is that.

What a fabulous trip.

Toronto Part 6

Three words: Back-to-school cold.

Is that three words? Meh. Whatever.

Whatever it is, I have it and have been trying to go to bed at a decent hour to try to get rid of it.

Anywhine, I promised an entry about the Hockey Hall of Fame -- unless you're Canadian you're probably not waiting with baited breath, but here it is nonetheless.

(As usual, thanks to Google Images for all the pics on here. Other people take way better pics than I do.)

By now we're reaching near the end of the trip, and to say we're exhausted is an understatement. We can hardly haul ourselves out of bed anymore. The miles we've walked could have taken us to the moon and back.



We had passes to the Hockey Hall of Fame, and since that was within *gasp* walking distance, we decided to check it out. My husband and I, avid hockey fans, could have really passed on it at this point, but our 7-year-old really wanted to go, so off we went.

If you like hockey, it's actually pretty cool. It's mainly several rooms of well-laid-out displays of memorabilia and milestone-hitting moments. There were jerseys and equipment from the 1920's up to current day, as well as hockey toys and such. My husband and I (this shows you how fuzzy my brain is; I just typed that, "My husband and eye,") were pointing at the toys and such from our childhoods, wishing we still had it all. Little did we know that crap would be worth collecting one day. :)

Have you ever watched hockey, or any team sport for that matter, and wondered whether you could keep up with a running commentary on the action? Well, at the Hall of Fame there was a booth where you could try just that; there was a clip of a hockey game with no sound, and you had to voice-over a colour commentary. Good luck. Mine turned out like, "And that guy shot the puck and it, um, hit the thingy, and uh, now whatziz has the puck... oh now number 23 has it and, uh..." Certainly not as easy as it looks.



Our favourite part was the room where the STANLEY CUP was not only on display, but you could go up to it and TOUCH IT and have your picture taken with it!! The Stanley Cup is the Holy Grail of hockey prizes. This is the big one folks; this is what the players sustain lifelong injuries for. The Stanley Cup.

If I EVER get around to uploading our pics I'll include one of us standing around the Cup. Ahhhhh.

After the Hall of Fame we were starving, so we went to a place that looked like a restaurant, but holy cow it was huge! It was absolutely enormous, and at first it looked like a bunch of different restaurants. We stepped in after passing numerous entrances, and found the most amazing eating experience. It was called the Richtree.

A lady handed us each a card, like a bank card or gift certificate card, and explained the set-up to us. There were dozens upon dozens of stations where you could get any kind of food and drink; you found the things you wanted, gave the card to the people behind the counter of that station, and they entered your purchase into it. You could do this all day. At the end you gave the card to the cashier and paid for everything you ate. Awesome, huh?

They had EVERYTHING there: Sushi, other fish, chicken, beef, burgers and hot dogs, crepes, Italian, antipasti, salads, tea bar, coffee bar, wine and beer, ice cream, cake, squares, pies, chocolates, fresh juices, deli meats, you name it.

After stuffing ourselves royally we carried on to my husband's favourite music store, Sonic Boom.

Now, I'm very good with directions. I'm not so hot with distances.

For over an hour I kept saying, "Oh, it should be over on the next block! Er, maybe the one after that. Uhhh, maybe it's the one at the light up there." We walked up Yonge Street for almost 2 hours before we got within sight of the store. Gad.

The effort wasn't wasted; at one point we actually stumbled upon the church of Scientology! Cults aren't prevalent in my part of the woods so I always get a kick out of seeing them in person somewhere else. Then, right across the street, who should we see but Anonymous! Yay! Anonymous is a grassroots international group determined to bring down Scientology. This has nothing to do with religious intolerance; Scientology is bogged down with all sorts of controversy. You can read about the controversies here and here. I'm not providing links to the sites of the cult itself because I'm sure they have ways of figuring out where the links are coming from. I'd rather not have them sniffing around here.

Finally we were within a block of the music store! Then, out of nowhere, a very large bird deposited a large, runny, black poo all over my husband's head and shirt. Augh. He took a cab back to the hotel then went back to the music store later. He did say that it's supposed to be good luck, and judging by the size of the poop, he's due to win the lottery.

Coming up: My final post about Toronto! We sure got our money's worth.

Toronto *gasp* Part 5

(I don't think I got a pic of the subway, so here's someone else's.)

It *is* taking longer to write about it than it did to live it.

I know I keep going on and on and on about the cleanliness and efficiency of Toronto's transit system, and specifically the subway. Really, it blows me away. The train stations downtown in my city have crack addicts and drug deals going on at every one, the trains smell like urine and you always have someone harassing you for money or drugs or whatever. Toronto is 5 times the size of here, and they have none of that. The trains ran about every 2 minutes on Sundays, and no less than every 30 seconds on the weekday rush hour. Seriously, move there.

The subways and many of the major attractions are connected to the PATH, an acronym for I-don't-know-what. The PATH is an underground pathway covering 27 km of area; in the PATH there are grocery stores, clothing stores, offices, services, pharmacies, you name it. We didn't see much of it on our trip, as the stores it contained are mainly franchise shops which I can see here, but I thought it was neat.



Of course, no trip to Toronto is complete without visiting the CN Tower.

Now, I am not a heights person. I don't like being more than 2 stories in the air. High buildings scare me. The men of my family reeeeeally wanted me to come up to the CN Tower with them, so *sigh* I did.

Let me tell you, this is not a place for people with height phobias.

After you've paid to get in, you go through a door and immediately notice the large amount of security guards wandering around. These aren't your nine-buck-an-hour rent-a-cops either. (Oh shush, my son used to be one. I can call them that.) These were serious professionals who looked very fit and alert. Frankly I saw less security at the airports.

The next step before getting near an elevator, was passing through a new, super high-tech security device. It looks like one of those scanners you walk through at the airport, but instead of x-raying you, it puffs air all over you in short puffs from head to toe. My son later told me that it's new technology that can sniff nanotraces of gunpowder and other explosives on you.

Now that my nerves are totally shot, let's head to the elevators!



See the part along the side that looks like a ladder? It's really a series of windows, stacked one on top of the other, so you can look out while the GLASS ELEVATOR takes you up! Ohhhhh goody!

Here is a short video where you can see the elevators and the GLASS FLOORS to boot!

Don't ask me what it was like on the elevator. I stood with my face pressed to the back of the elevator, my eyes squeezed shut and reciting the Lord's Prayer all the way.



Over 1100 feet in the air, here is the first stop the elevator makes. You can go higher, to the SkyPod, which is over 1400 feet in the air, but it cost extra and I had absolutely no interest. The rest of the family went up while I looked around myself.

There were two floors to the observation area, as well as an OUTDOOR observatory. That's right, you could go OUTSIDE over 1100 feet in the air. Yeeeeesh. I actually did it! I didn't *like* it, but I did it. Good for me!

There is also a glass-bottomed floor, over 1100 feet in the air, that you could stand on and look aaaaaaall the way down. I stepped on it, turned my camera downward without looking down myself, took a picture of my feet on the glass floor and stepped off. Boy, was my family surprised when they got off the elevator and I showed them my pics!

There is also a nice restaurant up there and I had considered buying dinner for everyone, but the entrees started at $ 30.00 each and went up from there. Ummmm, no.

Down the elevator again (THANK GOD) and into the most enormous gift shop I've ever seen.

Tomorrow: The Hockey Hall of Fame!

Toronto Part 4!

It is taking longer to keep up on these posts than it did to actually have the vacation!

Of course, one cannot go to Ontario without checking out Niagara Falls.



(I need to add again that the pics on these Toronto posts are sourced from various websites. My own pictures are still sitting in my camera.)

We had intended to take the Greyhound bus, since we were not keen on driving in a strange province on busy highways, so we woke up at 4:00 AM so we could be ready and waiting at the bus depot by 6:00. As we were slogging through the morning mist, my husband slowed down and said, "So, I'm wondering if we should rent a car after all." "Sounds good," I said, "Let's go."

In hindsight, I'm glad we did. Not long after this trip there was a terrible murder on a Greyhound bus; click the link if you're curious and make sure you don't have a full stomach.

So, in keeping with our usual experience of Torontonians being helpful, we managed to rent a car, on a Friday, with no notice whatsoever. AND we got a carseat with it! Way to go, Hertz.

The drive was simpler than we had expected. It would be difficult to get lost, in fact.

Once we got into town and found an amazing parking spot, we got out to look at:

THE FALLS.

Wow!

There is nothing that I could say that would adequately describe the Falls themselves. The noise, the mist, the sheer immensity of it all is just mind-blowing.

We took a tour where we could walk in tunnels that are behind the Falls, and we got completely soaked.

After awhile we decided to see the rest of the town. The town itself is hilarious! It's like a big carnival with all sorts of cheesy attractions. On Clifton Hill, the main drag, you can find the Guinness World's Records Museum, a mini-Legoland, a number of fright features like "haunted" houses, the Motorbike Museum, The Criminals Hall of Fame -- where I bought some replica pistols for my son and daughter-in-law-elect, then wondered how the hell I was going to get them on the plane -- and finally, my must-see feature:

The Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum!



I read Ripley's books obsessively when I was young, so I HAD to see this feature. It was better than I thought it would be! Very fun, very interesting, full of cool stuff and funny interactive features.

My youngest son, who is 7, insists that he loves haunted houses and doesn't scare easily. We went into one, paid the fifteen bucks or so of admission, and lasted about 90 seconds in there before we had to take the chicken's exit. We were wandering the hallways, which were dim and full of creepy pictures and sculptures, when we came to a tunnel that was utterly pitch black. I leaned forward, put my hand through the mouth of the tunnel, and *SNAP*, something made a sharp noise. I jerked back, leaned forward again, and "Mmmuuuhhhwwwaaahahahahaha". Eee! I stepped back again, and all was silent, so I crept forward again, and a voice said, "Don't be afraid little one. Come to me." Uhhhhh... someone saw my young son. These are real people. Is this part of the feature????

We hightailed it out of there -- it turns out that yes, it was part of the feature. Thank God.

An uneventful drive back and we were back at our wonderful hotel for the evening.



Only a few days to go! I'll write more tomorrow.

Toodle!

Toronto Part 3

We celebrated my husband's birthday while we were on vacation, so we decided to make it a sort of "knights and castles" day.



We spent the day taking the excellent and efficient transit (I know, I keep saying that, but I can't help it) to Casa Loma, a "castle" built by a millionaire in the early 1900's. We had a great time looking at the decor and planning to do the same to our house. HAHHAHAHAHAHA! I almost believed we would. Not likely. Our house would have fit inside their stables.

Like every good castle, this one also came with its own ghost stories. There were none published, but while we were having a bite to eat in the cafeteria we struck up a conversation with some of the staff who were also dining, and they gave us their ghost stories. One saw a man walking downstairs toward her at 5:00 AM; when she turned to look at him, he was gone. Another person was alone in the place at 2:00 AM, closing it down, when he heard fast footsteps and felt something whoosh by him -- he was also alone. Another staff member couldn't print out the monthly schedule without the 6th printing as 666, even though the file on the computer only showed one 6. Another rearranged a display within a glass case, to which only SHE had the key, only to find it set back as it was before. She did this for 3 weeks before she finally gave up and told the ghost she would just leave it.

There was a very cool and creepy part; in the basement, there was a long tunnel going from the basement to the stables and the garage, underground the whole way. THAT was eerie. My son was especially creeped out, as one of the staff members told him the ghost hangs out in the tunnels during the day. :)

As with everywhere else in Toronto, the people in this place were utterly friendly, helpful and glad to talk to us. The customer service in this whole city was just outstanding, and the Casa Loma was no exception.



We returned to our awesome hotel, pictured above, to rest up for the evening.



We had booked reservations at a place called the Medieval Times, a live dinner theatre experience where there is a whole storyline of knights and a king and a princess and the whole bit; the knights actually joust on real, honest-to-God horses that are kept in stables in the building itself. There are also live falcons that fly around for a few minutes. Falcons!

Do click on the link to watch some video from their shows.

The pic above is the outside of the building. They have that whole building!

I had arranged for some of the birthday extras for my husband: a free photo with Princess Esperanza, a knighting by the king and a photo of same, a photo of the three of us in our seats, plus we got free programs and a free DVD of their show.

So, while these knights are jousting and competing and the whole sordid storyline of betrayal and murder plays out, "wenches" come around and plonk your dinner in front of you. Soup, bun, 1/2 a chicken!, ribs, chunks of potatoes, Pepsi, and a pastry. In keeping with the times, you are given no cutlery. That's right. Hands-on eating, baby.



(thanks to the traveller on Tripadvisor.com for the above photo -- mine didn't turn out so well)

I also had to laugh -- whenever I asked a question of the staff, they would answer, "Yes, my lady" or "No, my lady". They also put every guest in a paper crown according to their assigned seat. So here is a building of pasty tourists, reeking of sunscreen and bug spray, dressed in paper crowns, and you have to call them "My Lord" or "My Lady". You. Couldn't. PAY. Me. Enough.

The experience was a blast and I recommend it to anybody who might be in a city where it is featured.

I had previously covered two days in my blog posts, but I will have to break that tradition and just do one day this time. It's getting late.

'Night!

More Toronto

Sighhhhhh....

I'm still waxing poetic to myself about the Bata Shoe Museum in my last post. Writing about it brought it all back; I'm wishing I could return.

I remember how astounded I was to read on their site that their gift shop carried books about shoes. My two loves, all rolled into one. Think about that: Books. About shoes. As my daughter-in-law elect put it, "BOOKS! ABOUT!! SHOES!!!!!!!!! *squeal*" I remember wondering if any of these books about shoes would feature shoes with books on them... but the very thought made me faint, so I stopped thinking.

ANYWAY!

There is much more to see in Toronto than the Shoe Museum.



On the third day we utilized the excellent, efficient, clean transit system to get ourselves to the Ontario Science Centre. This was a trip entirely for the entertainment of our young son -- we have our own Science Centre in town and couldn't see how much better this one could be than our own.

The reviews I had read had cautioned the reader that the centre cannot be seen all in one day. As we walked up to it I thought, "Eh, it's no bigger than ours. We should be out of here in four hours or less."

Ahhhahahahaha! Famous last words!

Over six hours later we had only seen about 2/3 of the Centre. Most of the area was either underground or in back. Good God, this place was huge.



There was a floor with the planetarium and a whole ton of wickedly cool space exhibits, and two enormous play areas that had things like a water table, ball roller coasters, a play house with blocks, a big grocery store, and on and on and on. Another floor had a display about the technology and considerations in going to Mars, complete with weight simulators. There was a gigantic area where children could build things out of circuit boards and wires and stuff, or they could make shoes out of various materials, or they could make stop-go animation movies and publish them to the 'net. There was a floor entirely about communications and technology, a rainforest where you could even go on guided nature tours outside, and another floor dedicated to the human body, which we unfortunately missed entirely. My husband and I sat there, nearly dead, wondering how the hell we would summon up the energy to go anywhere else on this trip.

I found one thing that made me laugh, and it wasn't one of the displays. At the water table I saw the camp leaders of a variety of summer camps standing around as the children played in the water. One day camp was called the Lubavich Day Camp, comprised of orthodox Jewish people. The little boys wore yarmulkes, the women all wore skirts and the married pregnant ones had their heads covered. Another camp present was comprised of strict Muslim people; the little girls even had the head scarves (which normally they don't do until they get older, but with this one they started young). The adults of both camps were scrupulously avoiding each other. The children? They were all playing together and cooperating with their projects at the water table; I even took a picture of a little Muslim girl with a head scarf, building a dam in cooperation with a little boy with a yarmulke. (No, I won't post it; these are other people's kids.) This just cracked me up. Apparently they have forgotten how important it is to cling to religious and personal differences; instead they chose to play and cooperate.

I think we all need a de-aging machine. A lot of us could stand to be like that again.



Back to the awesome hotel to soak in the pool and get ready for the next day.

The next day, we were starting to plan for our trip to Niagara Falls and my husband had decided that going via Greyhound bus would be the best idea. So, our day consisted mainly of wandering around the city of Toronto for awhile, taking in the various neighbourhoods, and checking out the Greyhound station.

Toronto is a fabulous place in which to walk around. What a blast! Everything is so big, so clean, so cool.



This pic doesn't really do this area justice.

NOTE: None of the pics on here were taken by me. I haven't uploaded mine to my computer yet. Why? 'Cause I suck.

Anyway, this area is Yonge Street and Dundas Street intersection. Along Yonge street are all sorts of huge billboards, shops galore, and people, people, people. The area in this pic had a large stage set up when we were there, for the upcoming Just For Laughs festival. This is a comedy festival that goes on every year and it attracts very big names in comedy. We didn't see any, unfortunately.

We also sat in front of the City Hall area with the pool and fountain:



The buildings here are a real mix of old and new; instead of tearing down the heritage buildings like *some* cities I know, Toronto seems to have kept a great many of their old ones. The one in this pic is the old city hall -- very cool.

We also found the recording studio for MuchMusic, the Canadian version of MTV. This was a real surprise; the outside of the building didn't advertise its occupants at all. We stepped in and saw some filming going on, and a security guard suggested we leave, so we did. Somehow I thought the Canadian centre of rock TV would be somehow more grandiose.

We also wandered briefly into a Chapters store nearby -- Chapters is a huge Canadian bookstore chain -- where the building looked as though an enormous Rubik's Cube had smashed into it from space. I had been searching for the Rubik's Cube building that i had seen on the maps; my family thought it was a ruse to get them to accompany me into a bookstore. :)

I could write on and on about the streets of Toronto but I really can't capture the essence of it; you'll just have to see it yourself.

I will post more tomorrow about the trip.

Adios.

Toronto!

Earlier in the year my husband and I were thinking about summer vacation possibilities.

"Toronto," he said.

"Toronto?" I said.

"Toronto, Ontario. That's where we should go this summer," he said.

"Why Toronto?" I said.

"Why not Toronto?" he said.

While I never got a straight answer, we went ahead and planned a trip to Toronto, Ontario, the center of many things Canadian.

Of all the people I spoke to who had been there, very few had anything good to say. The few months between the deposits and the actual trip were filled with people saying, "Toronto. Why go there? It's dirty/polluted/too hot/full of rude people/crowded/full of weirdos." By the time we were ready to leave, I was truly dreading the trip.

The vacation could be summed in one large word:

FABULOUS!!!!

Toronto was absolutely wonderful. Awesome, clean, friendly, vibrant, interesting, fun... there are not enough words!

I cannot remember a day-by-day account of what we all did, so I'll type it as I remember it:

We arrived at our outstanding hotel, the Residence Inn Mariott Downtown. Due to our son's food allergies we really want a kitchen available to us in our hotel room, and each of these suites has just that. The hotel was clean, super quiet, very friendly, in a good part of town, and CHEAP! $ 199.00 a night for a one-bedroom suite!



Our first day we decided to take the subway to the Royal Ontario Museum. First of all, I was astounded to see the subway system clean, safe, well-lit, and so efficient that I'm *still* shaking my head. Holy cow. The transit system in my city is nothing even close to the model of efficiency that the Toronto system is.

Anyway, we got our first taste of how Toronto does things with this museum -- big, bigger and biggest. In the 7 hours that we were there, we still didn't see it all. There were several floors of exhibits covering anthropological matters, natural history, and the most amazing art exhibit I've ever seen. I originally wanted to go here to see the Darwin exhibit, but I was utterly enchanted with the Shanghai Kaleidoscope art exhibit -- it was a number of installations of visual arts, including video, textile, and photographic, that were all metaphorical of the massive changes taking place in Shanghai right now. My advice: Go to the gift shop FIRST, buy the book about this exhibit, read it fast, then go up and absorb it.

We dragged our aching feet back to the hotel, where we planned the events for the next day. They were to include the one feature I had been lusting to see:



THE BATA SHOE MUSEUM! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

What can I say? With 4 floors of SHOES -- the origins of shoes, old shoes, new shoes, work shoes, theatrical shoes, celebrity shoes, art shoes, beaded shoes, metal shoes, wooden shoes, embroidered shoes, big shoes, teeny shoes (even Barbie shoes) -- quite frankly, I have found my spiritual home. Every shoe fanatic is required to attend this sumptuous display at least once in their lives. To top it all off, there was a tiny gift shop with gifts ALL ABOUT SHOES! Scarves with shoes, paper notepads with shoes, shoe-shaped luggage tags, purses with shoes, books about shoes, jewelry with shoes. I spent almost as much time in the gift shop as I did in the museum. Seriously. This is such an enriching place to those of us addicted to shoes.

The rest of my family spent their time at an enormous music store down the street called Sonic Boom, which was THEIR spiritual mecca. What, you think I'd bring a bunch of straight males into a shoe museum. Not.

Our trip didn't end in two days but this posting will have to end for tonight. I'll carry on about the trip tomorrow.

'Night!

My 25th Anniversary...

... of the time I discovered Twisted Sister, was marked by the most amazing day.

Some background: I had grown up on an island on the west coast of Canada, in a small town where anybody even slightly unique was singled out and beaten down by their peers. Fit in or get lost.

Well, I didn't fit in. I never did. To top it off, I was an ugly kid -- ugly, weird, socially inept. I hit some kind of jackpot, it seems.

My family and I were on vacation off the island in July of 1983; I was 14, the time when even perfect kids feel like their feet are too big and their teeth are too long. I had found a very cool metal magazine called Creem at a store and bought it; inside was an article about a band called Twisted Sister.

The picture was taken at an outdoor festival in England where they had played on stage with Motorhead. To this day, it was the most godawful picture of them that has ever been published.

They were bizarre. They were weird. And that name!

It was love at first sight.

I HAD to find out more about this band. I didn't even care what they sounded like. I HAD to see them, hear them, anything. They were my new folk heroes. Their stage dress thumbed the collective nose at everything trendy and cool at the time; New Wave was big and Duran Duran ruled the airwaves. These guys resembled a New Wave band the way a tank resembles a Pinto. I loved that.

Remember, these were the days before the internet. Top-loading VCR's were all the rage and most of us still had Hi-Fi stereos and party lines on the (dial) phone. Al Gore hadn't invented the internet yet. (snicker) Finding information on anything obscure was tricky.

I took myself over to the nearest big city and scoured the head shops for metal stuff, and lo and behold, a Twisted Sister patch with a photo of them from their first album, Under the Blade. I wore it on my back pocket around school and REALLY got picked on -- "What the hell is that on yer ass?" "Can't you look normal for a change?" "You're such a loser! Why don't you wear something cool like ZZ Top?"

I found their new album, You Can't Stop Rock And Roll, shortly thereafter. Once I heard it, I was hooked forever.

I loved Twisted all through every phase of their success. Their anthems, their look, everything about them resonated with us oddball kids who felt very alone. Sometimes their music was all that kept me going.

(I won't get into my childhood on a public blog. Suffice to say the first 30 years of my childhood sucked. Bad.)

I loved them even after they'd broken up in the late '80's. I loved them all through the '90's. I wished dearly they would reunite.

In 1998 we had gotten our first computer and I was able to find a bit of info here and there about the various members of Twisted Sister! Yay! I had the idea to do a webpage for Eddie Ojeda, one of the guitarists for the band. I had seen quite a few people asking about him on message boards, wondering what he was up to, and his current webpage was not updating very often.

So, I emailed him through his page to see how he would feel about me doing a page for him.

He emailed me back (and I almost dropped dead when I saw his name in my Inbox) and said Sure, why not?

Next step: I ran to the computer store to buy a book on HTML. What do I know about webpages? I couldn't even arrange my inbox into folders. (still can't...)

I taught myself HTML, did the page, talked to him on the phone frequently even though I was trying so hard not to make an ass of myself that I really probably did.

After a couple of years I had to let the page go; I had returned back to school, it was getting increasingly hard to get a hold of him, and my server went tits-up. The time that it would take to reload everything onto another server was time I didn't have, so I had to let it go.

Fast forward to July 2005, and Twisted Sister had since reunited and was coming to a city north of me. O.M.G. Of course I made plans to go.

And, I had emailed Eddie again, thanking him for coming to my province so the fans here could see them.

He emailed me back, saying he would get me backstage! I WAS GOING TO MEET TWISTED SISTER!!!!

I did meet them that day, but this blog is getting long, and I can't find the digital photos of that day, so I'll save it for another time. This post is supposed to be about their most recent concert. In short, I said to my husband after the meeting, "I can dig a hole in the ground and live there for the rest of my life. There's nothing else in the world that I want!"

Fast forward again to July 13, 2008, and Twisted Sister was coming to my very own city! Eddie emailed me his cell phone number and told me to call him when we got there and he'd get us backstage.

Boy, was I a bundle of nerves. Again.



After talking with Eddie for awhile he had to zip into the trailer to get something, so I talked to Mark "The Animal" Mendoza for awhile. What a cool guy! Very funny, very friendly, easy to talk to. In this pic he was crouching down so he didn't look like such a monster next to me.



There's Eddie, out of the trailer and posing with us. He is awesome. He's very kind and gracious, which sounds a bit over the top, but there it is. He really is nice. And that hair! That is all his own hair. I asked, and he showed me.



Up here we have a pic of me and Eddie with A.J. Pero, the talented drummer. We talked tattoos for awhile -- another funny, easy-to-talk to person.

I only saw the other guitarist, J.J. French, very briefly, and didn't get a pic with him this time. The singer Dee Snider doesn't like to meet with people before the show so I didn't see him either. However, they did all sign my jacket when Eddie took it around for autographs.

They are all wonderful to talk to and they really put me at ease. Their appreciation for their fans is clear in the way they treat them, and in their amazing performances. Even though they usually perform for tens of thousands of fans, they gave the same high-energy show to the tiny 700 of us at the nightclub that night. Tiny stage, tiny (but packed) crowd, and the show went on full bore.

My husband and I were right against the stage, front and center. I am not exaggerating when I say that Dee's hair hit me in the face several times -- I could have played "Name that Shampoo". The guitarists often did their solos right in front of us. They were within arms reach for the whole show. Wow.

Plus, my enormous strong husband kept all the moshers off me and I got to enjoy the show unmolested. Well, except for the drunk who told me I reminded him of the mother from the Brady Bunch. But I've heard worse.



This is a shot of Eddie and Jay Jay, and











This is a shot of Dee. I have more, but Blogger only let me upload these five. And it took half the night.

So to Twisted Sister: You have no idea what you do for people through your music. So many people have been influenced by you, so many people have been made to feel as though they matter, because of you. The mania that you inspire at your shows is due to the gratitude that people feel toward you. And the kindness that you showed to me will always be remembered.

Thank you.

(I'd also like to add a plug to Etsy shop Grenade for making the cool skully clutch I'm, er, clutching.)

What an ordeal!

I have been trying my hand at needlefelting for awhile now, and have been working on an especially awesome piece. My Etsy friends have been eager to see it.

Soooo... I decided I'd better learn how to a) upload photos from the camera to the computer, and b) from the computer to a blog. This is ME we're talking about. Good luck.

First I did the easy part: I took photos of the little fella. Oops, the battery in the camera is dead. Where is the battery charger?

I spent over an hour tearing the house apart, looking for the battery charger. If you could see this place you would understand. Finally I called my son to see if his store sold them without the cameras, and while I was talking to him, THERE IT IS! Sitting right there on top of the microwave!

So, the battery finally charged, I start to take the pics. Hmmm, that one is too dark. This one is a bad angle. THAT one is too dark! Why is it so hard to get a good pic??

Now I really have even HIGHER regard for my Etsy friends who can take a decent picture!

After much fiddling about, reading the instruction books, plugging things in, opening files, etc., I finally got them uploaded to my computer. EUREKA!

The pics are still not great -- I need to stage them better -- but for the time being, I'd like to introduce you to:





JERRELL, the Needlefelted Axolotl!

This little fellow was inspired by Cindy Jerrell at Black Cat Graphix on Etsy, who emailed me one day with the funniest rant about my awesome avatar (an axolotl!), and how much she loves him, and how I could corner the plushie market with those things if I made them. The wording of the convo tickled me so much, it inspired me to make this little fellow.



He is 10 inches from snout to tail tip and has wire in his legs and head-thingys.

I needle-felted his face last, and was I ever nervous. What if I wrecked him?? What if his lovely body had a hideous face? And sure enough, when his face was first begun, it looked bad alright. Somehow I saved it. :) See, he looks just like my smiley!





As I learn to take better photos I will show them off, plus any new stuff I do. For now, here he is! Yay for me!

A Sweet Story

My mother is the most amazing person you could meet. She is kind, loving, very funny and quirky, really on the ball and the best grandma in the world. If I post a pic of her she'd kill me, so I'll be nice and keep her pic under wraps. :) She really is beautiful but she's as photogenic as I am, which is not very. You don't see any pics of *me* on these blogs, do you? :D

So, my 70-year-old mother was at a potluck dinner with the other seniors at her adult-only condo complex. She had been given two paper placemats instead of one, so she decided to fold a boat.

Someone saw her, and decided to fold an airplane. Soon several of the seniors were folding airplanes.

Then, one gentleman came forward who was the airplane-folding PRO, and he taught everyone some tricks about folding airplanes.

Soon the entire place was alive with seniors throwing airplanes at each other! Even the people in wheelchairs were getting some good air on their planes.

When this had gone on for quite awhile the airplanes started to get bent, so everyone began crumpling them up and chucking the balls at each other like snowballs!

The condo supervisor walked by my mom's table with a huge grin and said, "You really started something!"

Everyone left there feeling ten years younger. :)

The Sky Is Falling!

Well, maybe not the sky, but apparently people's flush-mount dome lights are crashing down all over the place. My blog entry before the previous one detailed our own experience of our light fixture crashing to the floor in our kitchen.

Today we spent most of the day going to various lighting shops to replace the fixture. The lady at our final destination had the same thing happen to her recently! She works with builders and designers every day and apparently there was a manufacturer whose lights were installed in many, many homes 8 - 12 years ago, and this manufacturer's lights have been crashing down from the ceilings of various homes in recent months!

I don't understand why this hasn't been made known to the public. I will be talking to this lady again when I pick up our fixture on Monday and I will ask her if there is any intention of warning the public. Apparently these fixtures are also mounted in foyers and hallways, some of which have ceilings 2 stories or higher. If someone is under one of those... I can't even think about it.

If you have a flush-mount dome fixture -- they are mounted directly onto the ceiling rather than dangling for any length -- take a ladder and have a good look at it. Carefully take off the glass and inspect the nut holding the base onto the ceiling. Not your husband, the hardware! Silly. If it seems at all flimsy, buy new hardware.

I'll keep everyone posted on this.

How Cool Is This?

I think I'm copying my friend's post title... but I don't think she'll mind.

Several months ago I spotted the cutest dolls I had ever seen at "dmollison's" shop at Etsy.com. Every time I decided which one to buy, my choice had sold and I had to make up my mind all over again! I finally snagged one:

Lewis the Lizard Sock Kid ^^^^^

and he's been the love of my son's life ever since.

I also need to say that my son is a total guy's guy -- he turns everything into a gun and hates the colour pink. And he adores Lewis like a best friend.

So when Lewis started to turn a grungy shade of grey, I knew he needed washing. And I was nervous. What if I ruined him??? I convo'd his creator, Denise, for reassurance that he could indeed be washed (despite the clear washing instructions she sent with him...) She was extremely helpful and even volunteered to have me mail him to her and she'd clean him for me. Talk about customer service!!

Lewis ended up being bathed without any tragedies. I was so enamored with the excellent customer service, that I wanted to go onto the Etsy forums and promote Denise a little. Lo and behold, a Natural and Waldorf Toys thread popped up, so I posted about Lewis and Denise's shop.

This correspondence has grown into a friendship, and I'm lucky for it.

A few weeks ago I had sent her some embroidery floss from my past projects, and I had also painted a picture of little Lewis to send to her. It took forever to get to her and I was getting worried, but the timing turned out to be perfect: her and her family are going through a speedbump right now and the floss and pictures really made her happy.

Check out Denise's blog for a pic of the painting as well as her lovely compliments, on the same date as today.

And check out her shop while you're there! Her dolls are fabulous. I own three: Lewis, a doll that she gave my name to, and Ziggy the Tooth Fairy Sock kid. She mailed me Ziggy as a thank you for the floss and he got to me before the floss got to her!

A caution against buying cheap stuff!

Clang, clanKITYCLANG *CRAAASSHHHH* *tinkle tinkle*

This was the sound in our kitchen at about 9:45 Wednesday night. My husband was downstairs and I was in my library (read: junk room) when this huge crash resounded in our kitchen. We each made our way cautiously to the kitchen, only to find:

... the base of the light fixture dangling by a wire from the ceiling, and the glass dome shattered all over the room.

While we were cleaning up the glass shards, which had exploded so vehemently they ended up in adjacent rooms, we were pondering how this would have turned out if anyone had been in the room. The glass dome that broke was very heavy and gouged chunks out of our lino as it fell.

WHAT if our heads had been under this dome? My husband is tall, it may have konked him good. My son is small -- it would have injured him, or worse. Even if no one had been directly beneath the dome, the shrapnel would surely have caused injury.

Upon closer inspection my husband found that the single nut that was holding the thing up was not metal. He figured the heat from the enclosed dome finally melted the nut enough for it to let go.

This was a cheap fixture from a big-box store, installed by the contractor who owned the house before us. I have always found the mass-produced stuff from the big-box stores to be flimsy and a waste of money -- I never thought they could be dangerous. Until now.

Our new light will be coming from a proper light shop. We'll be inspecting it to make sure it is all metal!

I have been thanking God and our guardian angels that this thing let go with no one in the room. This could have been a real tragedy.

Lesson learned: There is nothing to be saved by buying cheap!

A blog? From me? Well, why not?

The first few postings will be about nothing much; I need to feel my way around this site first.

Welcome, and thanks for reading this far!