Facebook Turns 10 Today!

If Facebook were your online friend, you would have received a notification to remind you that today your friend is celebrating their 10th birthday.  

The Great Pumpkin Massacre of 2013

I am so far behind at this point that I figure I'm either late for this round, or really early for the next one..   but I promised myself I'd keep plodding along, so here I am.   

Sucker for punishment, perhaps -- but at least caught up, is caught up.. regardless of the time frame.. so I'll just carry on where I left off.. 

Every year we decide that we're going to get pumpkins and do a massive roast of pumpkin seeds, since everybody loves them so much.  We'd been buying the bulk barn variety, but we just find them SO salty,  that making our own seemed to make much more sense.  

We were watching the sale sheets, and just happened to notice that pumpkins were on sale 2 for $5 ~ What a great opportunity to Pumpkin seed to our heart's content! 

So Caelly and I headed out.. and who did we bump into but our eldest daughter Caryn!  We picked out 8 pumpkins in varying sizes.   To be fair, Caelly picked most of them.  Caryn and I were amused to watch the enthusiasm unfold.  

One poor specimen committed suicide on the grocery store floor..   OOPS!  

Back at home, we've got the first batch in.  Caelly cut them in half, and I got them cleaned out and put the first batch in the oven.  Caelly started on the pie shells.  

Pumpkin Guts!

The most time consuming part is picking the seeds out of the goop! 

Ready to be seasoned and baked!  

The pie shells came out looking great!  

The first pair of pies came out looking a little on the well done side, 

but the next 2 were much better. 

All in all it took us all weekend to get all of the pumpkin baked, pureed, and prepared for the freezer,  and it was days more before James had all of the seeds roasted at long last.  

Unfortunately by the time we got to that point we were no longer taking pictures, but just glad that the pumpkins were DONE.   

There were seeds of many different flavours, and James felt bad that we'd spent all weekend killing pumpkins so he could have the seeds..   but we had fun doing it..   and he's worth it! 

We also have some 50+ packages of pumpkin puree in the freezer for future use..  lots of work but SO worth it :)

Apparently I am a waste of pumpkin though since it is a bad thing to have that many pumpkins and not carve at least one for Hallowe'en.   We were however gearing up for a trip to Vancouver and weren't sure if we would be here for Halloween so *that* seemed like a waste..  ah well perspectives, right?  

One day at a time.. the journey to ME!

I have come to a point in my life where I’m coming to some harsh realizations.  I often joke about it and tell friends and family that I’m getting bitchy in my old age, but when it comes right down to it, this one has been brewing for quite a while..

One of the biggest items on that list if the fact that I am never going to have enough time to accomplish everything I want to do in my lifetime. 

Another is that no matter how hard you try, and how much you accomplish that there will always be some jerk at the ready to pee in your cornflakes and give you all the reasons that you shouldn’t have done it, didn’t do it right, didn’t do it as well as someone else -  so many unhappy people in our midst who are so un-happy themselves that it is not in them to see anyone else excel or succeed. 

I find myself dwelling a lot lately on what I vaguely term as “time management” and that perhaps I need some kind of course or training because I must have missed a key note somewhere..  but then upon careful observation I start to realize that it isn’t as much about managing time more wisely, but more an issue of portion control.  Leave it to the fat girl to make a diet reference, but it makes sense. 

As days go by I seem to pile more and more on my plate, and as we get to brainstorming among creative minds that plate begins to runneth over.  Frustration builds and before too long I’m looking at the growing pile with a bit more of a scrutiny and it comes to me.  The long ago voice of an instructor from a course I took years ago --  Ed --  one of the sweetest and most gentle spirits I have ever met.  He’d suggested I read a book called “When I say no, I feel guilty” and I remember wondering what that had to do with anything..  so he gave a bit of a Coles notes version.

I never did read the book, but my conversations with him stick firm in my mind and I recall how he reached out to me and tried to make a difference.  He hit on a key point that while hard to accept was also hard to ignore.  My plate was full because *I* had allowed it to be filled.  Often, I was the one filling up the plate. Items falling off seemed to just make more room to pile more on.  Right?  Uh yeah, that’s it!

Just like I didn’t become a packrat in a day, untangling the plate isn’t going to happen immediately either, it is a process.   I am finding however that lately my lists seem to play together – that is – that several jobs for different groups seem to run in the same circles and the duplicity there affords me a little unexpected wiggle room. 

My calendar, and my notebook have become invaluable and I’ve started  playing with Onenote.   It’s great for making lists, leaving jot notes.  You can even categorize them for different topics or tasks. 

The events of the last year have given much opportunity to re-evaluate and I find myself being more and more ruthless when it comes to purging and reclaiming my life in an effort to save what's left of my poor addled and often lonely blond brain cell. 

I don’t always make it to the end of my list on any given day, but at least I can tell you with absolute certainty that I started out with 10 things, someone else added 6 more and by the end of the day I’d completed 8 and of those how many of those were on my original list. 

It’s not much but its progress, and you know what?  I’ll take it! 

Happy Birthday to Brother Bear!

How can it be that this sweet little boy is 23 today?  

This photo was cropped from a photo taken in August 1996 as James was leaving home to help his friend and colleague Chris move to Vancouver.  

It is also the very first photo of the kids that I was ever given, not long before I got to meet them the very first time.  

If you'd have told me then, that 17 years later, I'd have many years behind me of being a wife, custodial step-parent and zookeeper,  I'd have probably laughed at the thought.  There was no part of the scenario that I'd imagined for myself.  I never dreamed I'd leave the lower mainland area to go ANYwhere else.. much less across the country.. 

Though as it seems to go in life, the best things always seem to come to me when I'm not looking for them, and often when I'm not expecting them. At least over the years I've gotten better at recognizing these blessings when they present themselves.  

Justin was just 5 years old in this picture.  I was out visiting in September that year, and we were all talking about his upcoming 6th birthday.  I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he thought for a few moments before whispering in my ear that he wanted me to come to his birthday party.  

I'd never been declared a birthday gift before, but we managed to make it happen.  There were some big happy smiles waiting for me that day.  I know *I* won't ever forget them.  

This is another favourite photo of the 3 little bears..

  Can you tell they were enjoying a little chocolate? 

Here's a photo of our youngest, and our eldest taken a couple of months ago..

Time sure flies.. 

Justin.. 

Today, as you celebrate your 23rd trip around the sun, your father is telling the story of the salad tongs and the day of your birth.  Caelly has just exclaimed "OMG Justin is 23 today!" and is bugging Dad to see if he feels old yet.  Caryn is out in Brockville somewhere preparing to make you an uncle.  

As for me, I'm right here at home reminding you that no matter how far away from home you are, or just how old you get, that you always have a home to come home to, and loving arms to hug you.  

Back then your favourite hobbies were reading and computer games, you loved playing with Lego (or at least spreading it all over the floor for Daddy to walk on - LOL) ..  though many things in our world have changed - your hobbies remained fairly consistent. 

You may be grown now, but you will ALWAYS be our little boy, and your sisters' "brother bear."  Funny how as I type that I am reminded of the girls' and their "Mary-Kate and Ashley phase" and Caryn running around the house singing brother for sale..  some days I'd wonder how you guys all managed to survive without killing one another..   

As your stepmom -- Teemy or Teemy-Mommy as you named me way back when..  I have had the pleasure of sharing in the lives of not one, but 3 little bears who over the years have brought me to laughter and tears - sometimes all at the same time. They say that parents teach their children,  but I have learned much from you.  

On this day and every day.. I love you! 

but especially today.. your birthday.. 

Sending you an abundance of love and hugs along with my every wish that this year be the best one yet.  

You have had many trials and lessons thrown at you this year.  You've made it through the worst, the best is yet to come.  

Just hang in there babe. 

And now for a little less mushy and serious...  XO

What's the good word folks?

I've always considered myself to be a pretty up-beat person.  "Happy-go-lucky" my Dad always called it,  and he was always proud to boast that I'd gotten that from him..   along with his "gift of the gab".. another Daddyism that generally meant that I was a people person and didn't have any problem blending into a group and chatting with just about anybody.

I'd made an off-handed comment the other day in conversation about how there's been way too much on my plate lately,  and that I was about ready to tip my head back in Charlie Brown fashion and scream to the heavens about being granted a freakin' break already ~ this in a conversation with an acquaintance who is only semi-aware of the craziness that has been my life over this past year.  

To be honest very few know anything about it any of it, and even less than that have the whole picture ~ though some attention is inevitable, no good can come from dwelling there for long.  I find myself quoting the serenity prayer ~ a little wisdom from another very special Dad in my life and thanking my lucky stars that after everything life has thrown at me in the last 20 years that I'm still here to laugh about it, to cry about it and well as the song says..  "I'm just glad to be here!" ..  that about sums up my philosophy lately. 

In my defense, I hadn't gone into detail, nor was I initiating any kind of pity party, it was my way of explaining away some of the crazy that has been "Life in General", and my best attempt at an indication of why some things may have slid off the plate here and there..   Strangely enough I hadn't been talking about one life event or another, or the  myriad of things on my plate -- but rather that I was struggling to get back on top of everything on my personal plate to my own satisfaction. 

I was completely horrified when the person I was speaking with proceeded to respond telling me that this was life and that the feeling might never pass, going on to tell me that this is a mental state I chose...   and closed the statement sounding much like what one might find on the inside of a Hallmark fortune cookie, if they made them.  Platitudes of finding the positive and only talking about those. 

I have to admit my brain stalled just a wee bit on that first statement.  I didn't CHOOSE any of this ~ who would? That's CRAZY! 

I can hear a close friend of mine at this point speaking up with something about a long walk and a short dock.. which makes me smile..  but more to the point..  this whole thing leaves me wondering..    

I have always been a cheerleader on finding the positive aspects of most everything.  In Cancer I found many joys though it stuns people when I mention them.. the things are there when you look at them..  

I think the part that gets me most is that I considered this person to be a positive force in my life, and while my comment alluded to some of the crazy that's gone on it certainly didn't delve into anything and my intent was not to get into a big conversation about it.  Her curt response and dismissal of my feelings just left me feeling like I'd been so completely wrong about her.  Could I really have been so horribly wrong?

While I am a firm advocate of finding the positives in life - but when is it appropriate as to point them out?  

I find myself of a conversation I had with a good friend recently about having lost her husband while he was on a fishing trip and how well meaning friends were telling her to get over it and get on with her life.  

Another friend was lamenting his single-dom, and reminiscing about a recent relationship and had a friend tell him that the acceptable grief period had passed and that he should move on. 

It really leaves me wondering how many otherwise intelligent people, are out there lavishing platitudes and judgement on their grieving, hurting, and sometimes just plain overwhelmed friends ~ for what?  

Who decided that YOU get to set the bar on how long is too long, and how long is "acceptable"?  What is trivial and what is worthy of mention?   

Is the intent truly to demean the other person?  Or did you simply not want to hear what they had to say?  There are far better ways to redirect a subject or kindly let a so-called friend or colleague that these are NOT the ears they're looking for..  

Just my view from the zoo... 

19 Years and Counting.. Happy Anniversary to Me.

It seems ironic somehow that I would be diagnosed with ovarian cancer during "Ovarian Cancer Month",  not like it was some kind of weird trend I had to rush and get in on - but alas it is what it is.  

It's funny how some of the details of that time period seem a little fuzzy now, but others I remember like they were yesterday.  Has it really been 19 years already?  

Indeed it has.  

It had been several months of intense pain, scans and ultrasounds, waiting.. more waiting..  and even more waiting still..  before I was finally admitted to emergency because the mass had grown large enough that I couldn't eat anything without being sick.  

I remember the doctor coming in and telling me the details.  They'd lost 3 litres of blood on the table, and I came very close to dying.  They removed a 5 1/2 pound mass and most of my left ovary and last, but certainly not least ~ it was cancer.  Oddly enough, none of the details seemed to resonate as she was telling me them. Until she said that my Dad was here to see me.  I remember bawling at that point. I kept thinking that I could have died and what that would have done to Dad.  I had such a hard time telling him that I had cancer.  I kept crying and telling him I was sorry.  Finally I managed to get the words out, and the doctor explained the rest.  I don't think I'd ever seen Dad look so worried.  Auntie Eileen had come with him to support, and everybody thought she was my Mom.  That, I found hilarious.  Yes, cause every kid wants parents that look like they're *obviously* related.  LOL 

  It was the size of a 24 week pregnancy - never having been pregnant that number escaped me - but I remember coming home and having a bit of an A-ha moment when splitting large packages of hamburger at my Dad's place at just how big 5 1/2 pounds was.  That was a bit of a shocker for me. 

I did over 7 months of aggressive chemo. In hindsight the 5 days in, 21 days home routine seemed to go rather smoothly.  My good friend Tom lent me a "ghetto blaster" and each time I'd go in, I'd have one bag of clothes and one bag of "keep me busy" items, my headphones and a number of CD's.  My Dad always called it dropping me off for my Vacation.  

Doctor had tried to flex her doc muscle early on and Dad who'd been silent for the whole appointment finally spoke up and let her have it.  In no uncertain terms she was told that the answer was NO and she wasn't having it.  PERIOD.  I was so proud of my Dad and thankful I'd brought him with me in that moment.  

I laugh remembering that two of my doctors - Dad never called them by their names.  One was Doctor Bad breath, who Dad always said he wanted to offer gum or breath mints to.  The  other was Doctor Chicken legs because Dad figured her legs looked like drumsticks.  He never ceased to send us into fits and giggles with his cheeky commentary of things.  I have always credited my Dad and his warped sense of humor as one of the top reasons that I survived the whole ordeal.  

As it happened, I did end up going in for a second surgery that would take most of my right ovary, but thankfully there was no cancer found there.  My remaining ovary bit apparently likes to grow new friends as it grew another in its place that we've been watching for years to see if it's going to do tricks.  So long as it stays below 5 cms they will leave it alone.  With all of the med drama, hernias etc, the least amount of anything is the way to go...

I've been thinking about Dad a lot lately.  I realized last night that this would be the first time in so many years that I could not call Dad to share this "birthday" celebration.  I'd always called to remind him that I'd made another year around the sun.  They almost killed me, and I survived. It was the first time, but not the last that I'd woken up from one procedure or another being told "you're so lucky to be alive".. I always made my morning check in with Dad a ritual, especially today.  Few people would appreciate the full weight of what this day means, like Dad.  

I remember lying on his couch feeling half-dead when the med side effects were bad, and him trying to coax me to eat, or come shopping with him or something just to get me going and when I just wasn't up for it, he'd put on one of his soaps or something and we'd just watch.  

I remember stopping in at the Legion with him, at the time not knowing about the "no hat" rule - and some guy at the bar yelling at me walking in with Dad's ball cap on because I hadn't wanted to wear my wig that day.  To be fair, I probably looked rather manly in my jeans, and Dad's mack jacket,  but I never expected what happened next.  Dad walked over to the bar and in no uncertain terms told the mouth at the bar that that was his daughter and SHE had cancer.  Then he turned to me and said "Show him Tam".. and I was horrified but did what I'd been told.  I removed my hat to reveal my bald head with only slight wisps of hair.  The poor guy paled and shrank into his seat amidst a litany of I'm sorry's.  I felt so bad for him in that moment.  Dad didn't let *anybody* mess with *HIS* girls.  There was always a kind of safety in knowing Daddy had your back. <3 

I had a really great picture of my Dad wearing my long hair blond wig. Sadly, I lent it to a cousin to scan with some other photos and she apparently lost it.  But the memory is vivid, and it always makes me smile.  I remember the rant about how it was over $200 and if I wasn't gonna wear it, that I should give him the damned thing.  (So I did) and then snapped a picture..  we tried to fix him up a few times and we were almost successful til someone would notice the handlebar moustache or the cigar in his hand.. LOL 

I have some very fond memories of the ladies on the 5th floor of the BC Cancer Agency, and the friendly Mason drivers that would come and pick me up and take me for treatments and doctor's appointments when Dad could not.  I sold daffodils that first year after I got out of the hospital.  Memories of big Teddybear slippers on my feet, a big ol' pumpkin bucket and bull dog stuffy on my IV pole..  and away I go.   I came across some comics that a good friend brought from his collection the other day.  Midnight Happy meal delivery, and being stolen out on a "day" pass for coffee by some friends who knew I'd be bored.  Nurses laughed because I spent most of my time when I wasn't writing, across the hall in an empty room phoning friends so I wouldn't disturb whoever my room-mate was at the time.  They called me "Sunshine."

People think I'm weird when I say I have fond memories of having had cancer - but anybody that's been through it knows what I'm saying.  There's the obvious bad stuff of course,  but until you've been through it yourself, you have no idea what a life changing experience it is.   Never before had I had so many epiphanies of where I was, and where I wanted to be, not to mention who I wanted to be with.  Cancer showed me who my real friends were, and who I should have kicked to the curb long ago -- not that I didn't always know on some level -- but it was the final straw.  

And as cliche as it might sound, Most of all, cancer showed me that no matter how bad things seem.  You can get through most anything, if you surround yourself with the right people.  A little enthusiasm goes a long long way! 

I am truly blessed. <3  Missing Dad today..  life will never be the same without him.  <3

Here's to another trip around the son!  Woo-Hoo! 

Reflections..

I have always been someone who spends much time in reflection and contemplation.  I'm not sure if I picked up the writing habit because of it, or if my interest writing came about because of it..  but it has been a part of me for as long as I can remember.  

I remember an old boyfriend early on chastising me for looking back down the road and admonishing me for the waste of time it was making reference to all the potholes he saw, where I'd seen lost chances.  At the time I was just a kid, who thought she knew so much more than she really did, and he was just a guy who'd been lulled into a false sense of bravado by a girl who worshiped the ground he walked on. He dismissed me, and my feelings simply because I allowed it for so so long..  

When I think of the crazy things that I let slide and made myself believe were OK under the guise of having a boyfriend I find myself wishing I could call up Marty and the Doc and go back and give my young self a much-needed stupid slap..    if only..  

Strangely,  this same boyfriend would later come back to me after a girlfriend broke up with him, flashing a ring that "could have been mine" complete with the gushing and smile that not long before would have sucked my heart into a vortex and kept it swirling in the fish bowl for all eternity.. but I'd wised up and not so-graciously declined. 

For a long time I still had the letter he wrote me saying that I'd walked out on him in the middle of the biggest power trip of his life.  He'd come to expect that I'd always be there waiting for him and doting on him, and this time his world came crashing down around him and for once there was nobody sitting there waiting to dust him off and tell him that it would all be OK. 

I never really thought too much about it at the time..  but we sure allow ourselves to put up with a lot, and then we chalk it up to love - or a relationship and somehow that's supposed to be ok?

When I think of all the great things I talked myself out of wanting for myself, the opportunities wasted..  it makes my head spin..  SO much baggage carted around for so many years that should never have left the station with me.  It wasn't *MY* fault that my parents didn't work out, or that she never really gave us a solid commitment to anything growing up.  I spent a long time wondering how anybody would ever want me, if my own mother didn't.  It's a tough pill to swallow for a kid.. 

I sometimes wonder if I could go back in time and tell my 15-16 year old self ONE piece of advice, what might it be.  I remember being so unsure of everything, so insecure and timid.  So afraid to stand up for anything because someone might not like what I had to say..  so worried that I would be alienated from one particular group or another just for sharing how I felt.  

I think the biggest thing I'd tell my young self, is that no matter what -  You are important, you *ARE* worth it, and most importantly - one day none of this will matter..  and it WILL all be OK.  

I wish I could have told my 16 year old self, that I'd one day find that handsome prince that I'd only read about in fairy tales.  That the story wouldn't play out exactly the way I thought, but that I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of.  In true *me* fashion, I've taken the indirect route to get there, and it's taken longer than it perhaps could have..  but here is here, None the less! 

Sometimes it really has nothing to do with you at all, and that's OK ~ Life goes on, and heartache is just part of the ride.  Without it, the sunny days wouldn't seem nearly as awesome!