Daxohol

Sometimes, work needs a little MORE COWBELL!

My Team Leader at work and I go way back. We've known each other roughly 6 or so years. We share in common an appreciation for comedy and music. Lately, we've been on a cowbell trip.

I can't quite remember the song we were listening to, when we both at the same time, prepared for and celebrated a cowbell break. But, it devolved into a MORE COWBELL trip.

So we started with the first logical step. Watching the SNL Christopher Walkin/Blue Oyster Cult sketch. Then, I thought it might be a nice idea to assemble a playlist of Cowbell tunes that we can torment the team with, uh, I mean, enjoy listening to while working...

I did my homework. At first I googled for podcasts that featured songs with cowbell. But then, I found just the ticket. The Cowbell Project - here you can find a long list of cowbell songs. Some are not so cowbell prominent, but none the less it's a pretty good list.

Love and Silly Sauce

Note: in our house "Soy Sauce" is "Silly Sauce"

Me: "Would you like some Silly Sauce?"

Dax: "Yes please! I would like some Super Silly Sauce! (I put the silly sauce on his rice and I sit it on the table) I see Super Silly Sauce!"

Me: "I see you are a Super Silly Boy!

Dax: "I see you are a Super loving Mama!"

The story of the word...

It all started on Sunday night.

I was just innocently folding laundry and watching Family Guy. Peter Griffin became obsessed with the
Surfin' Bird song by the Trashmen.

You see, I'm already a sucker for old music. And I'm even more of a sucker for old music that is just down right weird or funny. Maybe even annoying. Then add in the classic Family Guy comedy tactics of repetition, and sharp, jerky character movements and I was a mess.

A mess...because of that surfin' bird being the word.

I'm not alone. Have you seen the uproar on Youtube? The internets are a mess. Well, everybody's talking about the bird, A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word. Everyone knows that the bird is the word.

Daxon knows too. I played him the song (not Family Guy!! I played him the song) and when I ask him "What's the word?"...he knows...my baby...he knows...

So now, my friends, I find it necessary to get this out of my system so that I can move on with my life. I hope you can all stick by me while I get this under control and do my part to spread the word.

Sufferage Suckotash!

Put your reading hats on. I thought it fitting to post this in light of the upcoming US and Canadian elections. Usually forward emails are lacking in any noteworthy, solid content. I mean, their forwards...come on...read this or you'll twist your ankle from tripping over a mangy possum resulting in someone driving by to laugh hysterically and loose control of their car and die in a horrific crash. But this one hit my "oooh something shiny" switch today. I am not sure who wrote this, it's American based but I have friends in America who read here so I thought I'd put it out here. It has really great old photos which I just love, and fair amount of licking HBO's ass (of which I am indifferent) However, there is one GLARINGLY SHINY omission, and in particular to the "PS" at the end of the message which makes notes on Canadian Women's Suffrage. I will explain after you read this with my own "PPS"...

This is the story of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers, only 90 years ago...Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote. The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote. And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.'

(Lucy Burns) They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night -- bleeding and gasping for air.

(Dora Lewis) They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women. Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop, infested with worms.

(Alice Paul) When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press. http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/suffrage/nwp/prisoners.pdf So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because- -why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining? Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder. All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege.Sometimes it was inconvenient.My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was -- with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said. What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.' HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order. It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy. The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.' Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Remember to vote. PS. In Canada, women of Manitoba got the right to vote in 1916 thanks to the efforts of Nellie McClung and her colleagues. The rest of Canadian women were allowed to vote in federal elections when the Women's Franchise Act was passed in 1918. However, it was not until 1940 that the women of Quebec got the right to vote in provincial elections - the last province to accord them this right of suffrage.

My turn: PPS: It wasn't until 1960 in Canada that all Aboriginal men & women could vote without giving up their treaty rights and Indian status through a process defined in the Indian Act and known as "enfranchisement". The Universal Right to Vote didn't kick in till 1963 and the addition of the equality clause in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms - that the right to vote could not be denied on the basis of race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, age, mental or physical disability, or gender took until 1985. Uh, for a good read about the role of Aboriginal Women in Canadian Electoral Democracy: http://www.elections.ca/eca/eim/article_search/article.asp?id=26&lang=e&frmPageSize=&textonly=false So, I'll continue to vote, despite my resentment toward a body of power who doesn't care in the slightest about what I think, however at best I can tell them who I think sucks the least. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to exercise my first world aboriginal privilege to have a bubble bath.

Possessions

When Gary and I first got together, we used to take nice walks around different neighborhoods and check out houses.  Our joke was that we'd be so curious about what was *inside* the house.  What did they have hanging on the walls?  Furniture pieces, What was their decor style?  Photos?  Art?  Knick knacks?   We'd laugh about how funny it would be to knock on someone's door and say "hey...uh, can I look at your stuff?"

At work, I've been using various used items/recycling community networks in order to assist a couple clients in getting things they need for their new living arrangements. In a nutshell, they are starting over, coming out of hospital from a long stay and moving into apartments (the circumstances under which they have gotten to the point of having no belongings are as unique as the people themselves.)

So today, I went to an address to pick up a toaster.  The homeowner was a lovely lady, with a lovely home.  She invited me in.  She knew roughly the circumstances under which I was picking up the toaster.  She offered me many other very useful items which I gladly took.  She walked me around her home and asked me to tell her what we needed and she'll see if she can help.  I named off a few things, but I was a bit hesitant because I just couldn't get past the bizarre sensation that I was invited into a strangers home and walking out with...their stuff!  I felt like I was shopping in someone's house!  I joked when I got back to the office that it doesn't count as a "smash and grab" if you invite someone in and tell them to take stuff right?

We have wonderful thank you cards that one of the other facilitators made and I am looking forward to popping one in the mail to her. 

It's a wonderful thing, keeping items no longer wanted out of landfill.  Because somewhere else, they are needed - and sometimes, they need to be of no cost for those that need them most.

And...I got to live out one of my twisted little daydreams...weeeeeeird.

Moving Through The Blogoshere

Since I'm so eager to get back into the swing on blogging, I went through my blog roll.  It sort broke my heart a little.

I miss some of the folks I used to connect with.  Some are still around, some in new bloggy digs, but some have disappeared.  The ones who have disappeared I just can't help but wonder if they are okay...probably, but I still want to know.  Some of these folks I had a great time with.  I know it's hard to imagine having a good time with people you've never met before - but seriously.  We read about each other's lives, we comforted each other, shared joys, sadness, anxieties, rants, debates, and oh hell yes we laughed with each other.  Some of us partied on MSN until obscene hours of our respective time zones and had an absolute blast.  My early days of motherhood were shared with these folks through this blog.  Hell, after the brutal creative beating I took in college, I recovered any will I had left to write on this blog.  My readers were a huge motivation. 

I'm glad to see that some are still out here in the sphere.  I've always lurked here and there even when I wasn't writing.

Anyhow, now that I'm back - I hope I can reconnect with some that are still around.  I look forward to making new connections.  I remember fondly and hope the people who have moved on are well.

I don't mind writing into an abyss.  I did it when I first started, I'll do it again.  Besides lurkers are just a click away...

****you can skip his little preamble - but his song about video blogs is cute.

Saturday Night Live

Live from my basement it's Saturday night.  Not doing much of anything tonight.  I did find a snazzy little flash player so I can add music to my posts.

Daxon and I had a pretty mellow day today.  I kept asking him if he wanted to go on an adventure, or a walk - he just didn't want to and said he just wanted to play and watch TV.  I thought about it, and it occurred to me that his weekdays now are rather busy for a little guy.  Two schools a day.  By nightfall he is pretty beat and usually there is no trouble getting him to sleep (which is a nice change).  So I guess I can let go of feeling like a poo-head for not having something exciting planned on Saturday.  He just wanted to chill and relax.  I'll be honest and say I was totally game for couchin' it.  We did manage to venture out and grab some groceries.

So this is a boring post.  I do have much more I could write about regarding a hot debate happening in Dax's school.  I now lovingly refer to the whole hoopla as "Milk-gate" - the name is thanks to my friend who is also a former co-worker and her daughter is in Dax's class.  Milk-gate is quite entertaining only I've run out of steam writing about it on the message group.  I will say this...somehow, a woman with way too much time on her hands has decided that the Dairy industry is the devil and that our school's participation is considered equivalent to cultural genocide.  That's the nutshell.  I shit you not, it's that bat shit crazy. 

I'll leave you with this as opposed to me investing more energy over spilled milk.

Age Remix

Before I go ahead with this post, I need to clarify that in my job, the demographic I work for are people over 50 (Seniors).  Now, before anyone who reads this who is near 50, exactly 50,  is just over fifty or well over 50 tries to bludgeon me with their Nike shoes or strangle me with their Yoga Strap,  I hate labels.  So to me "Seniors" is a only something I feel you can call yourself if you *want* to.  Otherwise - your old.  Joking, joking...keep your canes down.  Oh god I just can't stop!  Seriously, no disrespect.  I have deep respect, that's why I'm working in this area.  This is my first time in the trenches assisting people with complex issues that are relevant to this age group. I find healing in humour.  Humour is my coping mechanism.  In the course of some of my days I see alot of things...alot of things I've never seen before, and I have had to learn to process and handle my emotions and my perspectives.  It's great that I have a team I can debrief with, a team that shares my sense of humour.  It's part of our culture, it's part of our culture's healing.

On with the post.

I had a nice brisk walk from one meeting place to another today.  My destination is one that I always dread going to. It's a long term care facility, and it's not one of the more pleasant ones.  I had my music pumpin' and I was energized and feeling good.  I have no real idea of what order my tunes are going in because my MP3 player is not all that fancy.  I am at the mercy of randomness at the moment.  So just as I am approaching the place a remix of Enya's "Orinoco Flow" and Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up" comes on.  I start laughing out loud...

There is an episode of South Park where Stan's Grandpa turns 102, and all he wants for his birthday is for Stan to kill him. Of course Stan refuses. Grandpa shows Stan what it's like being old by putting him in a dark room and playing Enya music.

I tell Gary of my whimsical moment and he tells me that last night while he was at his brother's they watched that very episode.

WHOA!

So I even made and put up a new masthead. 

That counts for something right?!

The good news is I've been writing. Not here, but in my dark secret folder on my hard drive called "T&A KEEP OUT" (T&A meaning "titled & ashamed")

I had to take some time to go within a bit and reconfigure my voice.  I've gone through some inner changes over the last couple years and I'm beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin again.

So onward!

The Coles Notes of Life As I Know It Now:

Daxon has begun Junior Kindergarten!  He spends his afternoons at the preschool he went to last year.  He has become a quite the music geek and has a true appreciation and self directed love for rock and roll.  Okay we help him along a bit by exposing him to a wide range of different music, but truly he really does have his opinions and preferences.  With anything he hears, especially if he likes it, he likes to know what the song title is and who sings it.  He understands the concepts of "bands" and "singers".  Led Zeppelin, The Trews, The White Stripes top his list of favorite bands.  This actually means, he really likes a number of songs done by each band, not because they are by the band...but because he genuinely finds them to be rockin' tunes.  He has an impressive list of songs he likes to hear and rock out to.  The rocking out is seriously adorable.  Eyes crammed shut, lip synching/singing the lyrics and shaking his fist to the beat.  He also likes to mellow out a bit and get groovy with Bob Marley.  His favourite Marley? Stir It Up & Small Axe.  My boy...

Gary continues to be awesome.  I would however like to point out an evolution of his that totally has me bewildered...No, he hasn't grown a third leg (although he will argue he's always had that feature), but he has become a far more aware of politics.  His entire outlook on religion has undergone a makeover and politics has taken a huge step to the forefront of his interests.  I welcome it, as it is a healthy interest that keeps him informed and involved. Truthfully, I couldn't have lengthy political or world issue chats with him before.  Not because he we didn't agree, but because he got too over-whelmed and just never wanted to "get into all that".  I'm not sure what set him off.  I don't even think he can pin point it either.  He just gradually became more aware.    It's interesting, fascinating and as a wife who shares his outlooks (thank god, no seriously, thank god) I totally dig this.  In fact, it has helped spice up my intellectual attraction to him.  I mean come on...after 10 years, who doesn't need a bit of a healthy mind boost - dig?

Although, he does have to learn to wait until I've had my first coffee before he briefs me on the latest.  I do expect that once the elections are over, his gusto may simmer down.  However, I'd like to see how or if...he'll grow more active...hot!

As for me I'm totally loving my place in life right now.  I've decided that really, life in the social justice field is just too damn cool to leave at the moment.  I'm in trenches on a contract job in the Aboriginal community till the end of March - it could be renewed pending sustainability funding.  We have to prove the program.  So yeah, that means financial unpredictability - so what, it's like that everywhere, so I'll make the best with what I get and do my best to keep going.  So by working hard and well, I'll keep the job, the complete contradiction to every social justice junkie's mission impossible dream; to work myself out of a job.

More in a bit...

Daxon's Happy 4th Birthday!

So April 3rd, Daxon turned 4. Four! Next year he's be half a decade old.

It feels like only yesterday that I slashed my fingernails through the hospital bedding and launched his 10 and a half pound self into this world.

"He's huge!" a united chorus of 15 people in the delivery room declared the moment he entered this world.

Then and now, he's always been huge. A huge personality, huge love and a huge sense of humour. Of course with parents like us, how could he be anything else?!

Thursday was a wonderful family day. Gary and I both took the day off work and Daxon didn't go to school. Instead, we made a day of family fun to celebrate the day we offically became a family.

The day started off right with Daxon coming down the stairs to the livingroom and seeing a big pile of presents! He opened them and had fun playing with them for a while before we all got dressed and headed out to lunch. Daxon got to pick where we went for lunch. Of course, it was "O' McDonald's". E-I-E-I-ohhhhh my arteries!

After that we checked out a playbarn. There were birds of prey (owl's, falcons and a couple of eagles). A barn of big horses and some sheep, geese, bunnies and a few friendly loose chickens was a great spingtime reminder that life exists beyond the winter indoor destinations.

Dinner time! This time, Mommy got to pick since she worked extra hard 4 years ago to the day! All you can eat Indian Food. I was my favourite as a rotund preggo and still is my favourite today!

Then we came home to chill out, play Mr. Bucket and Basketball. I must also make note that as Daddio tossed the ball to the hoop, he let a giant fart rip and of course the ball swishes through the net. Daxon laughed hysterically and declared it, "Fartball".

That's right, Daxon's birthday post ends with Fartball.