Welcome To The World, Cameron

My Goddaughter gave birth to a little boy today, and I have a feeling the little fellow is going to have an eventful life. Stephanie was a week overdue, but had not gone into labor yet. This afternoon she had to pay a visit to the **cough** Throne Room, and out popped Cameron, right into the toilet. Thank goodness his dad was there to rescue everyone. Way to go, Cameron...! Talk about making your entrance into the world a ...


After much discussion, his parents had decided to name him Isaac. Now, for all you folks out there who are named Isaac, it is a lovely, noble name.

However...

The little fellow's Uncle Trevor -- also known as "Big Foot" -- gently persuaded the parents that perhaps Isaac may not necessarily be one of the best names for a little Scottish boy born in the 21st Century, and that there just might possibly be another one they have considered?

"Well..." they said, "We have always liked the name Cameron..."

Cameron it is.

The first Isaac in the Bible lived to be 180 years old, so I wish a long, happy life to Isaac Cameron, who was born on a Throne.

Cheers,

S-H-R-I-E-K...!

Did you ever have one of those day where you felt just like the person in Edvard Munch's painting "The Scream"? Edvard Munch said the painting almost drove him mad. Of his famous painting, he said, “I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature.” That pretty much describes the day I just had, so if everyone will excuse me, I'm going to put on my fuzzy slippers, have a big, hot cup of cocoa, and relax with my New Yorker Magazine. And then, lucky me, I get to do the whole thing all over again tomorrow.

Oh, goodness, ya gotta laugh.

Best Actress -- The Five Nights of Oscar

It's that time of the year again, the Olympics are over, and folks are gearing up for the Oscars. Yes, the 82nd Annual Academy Awards will be held on Sunday, March 7th, and I can hardly wait. For me, the Oscars are an exciting night. I make a big bowl of popcorn, curl up in my big cozy chair and watch every minute, from the red carpet to the final curtain. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a movie star. I wanted to walk down the red carpet, my ermine stole wrapped around my shoulders, my diamonds sparkling in the popping flashbulbs. Oh, yessiree, that was glamor. And then, of course, my name would be announced as one of the five nominees for best actress, and finally when I am called... "And the winner is...!" I would walk onto the stage to sound of thunderous applause. Would I fumble my speech? Would I cry? Would I embarrass my mother and father? Oh, no, not me -- I would be too elegant.

*sigh*

The first Oscar ever awarded for best actress was given to Janet Gaynor in 1929 for her roles in three movies, "Seventh Heaven", "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans", and "Street Angel". Meryl Streep had not yet been born. The statue is a knight holding a sword and standing on a reel of film. It was designed by a Los Angeles sculptor named George Stanley, and was almost identical to the ones used today. The first Oscars were solid bronze, but today they are made of pewter and are gold-plated.

This year the nominations for Academy Award for Actress in a Leading Role are:

• Sandra Bullock in "The Blind Side"
• Helen Mirren in "The Last Station"
• Carey Mulligan in "An Education"
• Gabourey Sidibe in "Precious"
• Meryl Streep in "Julie & Julia"

I have seen only one of these five movies, "Julie & Julia", but my prediction is the Oscar will go to Gabourney Sidibe in "Precious". I have nothing to base it on except gut instinct. Have you seen any of these performances? I would be interested to hear who you predict will win the Oscar for best actress this year.

"And the Oscar goes to..."

On The Wheels Of A Dilemma

Canadians are known for being very polite. We always say please and thank you, and we hold the door for people, and we smile at clerks who are waiting on us -- at least that is the reputation we have. It's not always true, of course. We can be just as snarky as the next person, when push comes to shove. Or at least, let's put it this way -- we can be assertive if we have to be. Today I was put into the unfortunate position of having to assert myself, and I have felt guilty as h*ll all day long. I mean, you know that knot in the pit of your stomach feeling? I can't shake it. What on earth happened, you ask? Well, let me tell you. I think I was rude. I didn't mean to be -- at the time I just thought I was being assertive, but in hindsight, I think I was rude, and I feel very bad about it.

On Monday morning I was taking too much time getting ready for work. I read some e-mails, played around on the internet, had a second cup of coffee and soon I realized I was going to be late -- very late. I called a taxi rather than take my chances with transit. I asked the dispatcher if the taxis were busy, and he said they were busier than usual, but there would really be no delay. He asked me for name and address, and said to go outside right away. I put on my coat, juggled my purse, my keys and a bag of trash to be put into the garbage bin outside my building. As I got outside, my cab was there, and another couple was getting into it.

"Hey...! That's my cab...!"

"No it isn't," they said. "We called for a taxi at 9:00 last night."

They were loading their luggage into the taxi, and I asked the taxi driver to confirm the address to which he had been dispatched. He gave my name and address, however the couple getting into the taxi were not only from across the street, they had called a different taxi company.

"The driver just confirmed this taxi is the one I called."

Who was to know when their taxi would arrive, and if I didn't take the one dispatched for me, I would be late for work and in big trouble with the Black Knight my boss. I stood my ground. The couple unloaded their luggage, I got into "my" taxi and left. I made it to work on time without a minute to spare.

I know what you're thinking. I should have been gracious and let them take the taxi, and waited for theirs. And you're right -- I should have. I was rude and discourteous, perhaps even selfish. It certainly wasn't the Canadian thing to do. When I came home today, I almost expected to see them still standing on the curb, looking lost and forlorn, with their luggage piled beside them. That would have served me right. It has bothered me all day, and perhaps that's a good sign.

Well Done...!

It has been a lot of fun being in the centre of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics. It really is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm glad Phinnaeus and Marigold were able to experience it as well. And to all the athletes from all over the world who worked and trained so hard, and participated in these games, I can only say, "Well done". When an athlete gets to the Olympic level of proficiency and expertise, there really are no winners or losers. They're all amazing and it was a joy to watch them compete. In addition to their athletic abilities, they are all truly good sports, and they demonstrated such determination and grace. Of course, being a Canadian, I am proud of the fact that the incredible Canadian athletes won 14 gold medals for Canada, a new Olympic record for any country. Previously the record was held by the Soviet Union who won 13 gold medals at the Olympic games in Innsbruck in 1976, and Russia and Norway tying for 13 gold medals in Salt Lake City in 2002.

And to Mr. E.A. B***** (a Canadian, and a professional curmudgeon...) who said in a private e-mail to me a few days ago,

"Anyone with half a brain would recognize that Canada will never be a power group in terms of medals won, at any Olympics ... history even guarantees that notion..."

I say to him,

"I'm very, very happy that our wonderful, talented athletes have proven you to be very, very wrong. Now, here's a knife and fork -- you can eat your words."

It has been fun, too, meeting people from all over the world and enjoying the friendly camaraderie. Vancouver is a beautiful city, isn't it? And the good news is, in a few days everyone will have gone home, and the city will be all mine again.

...Kidding, kidding...!

Cheers,

Play Like Girls...!

Canada has now won ten eleven twelve thirteen FOURTEEN Olympic gold medals, more than any other country so far in the current 2010 Winter Olympics. My goodness, how did that happen? Way to go, Canada...! We're this funny little country, situated just north of That Other Big Country to the south, and our total population is less than the State of California. Most of us live along the border, and we peer across the line at our bigger, stronger, more assertive cousins to the south. We're fairly modest and we don't do a lot of flag waving, but we have had a lot of wonderful athletes to be proud of during these winter Olympics, and we're celebrating their successes. In spite of all the naysayers when the winter games first started, Canada has managed to do okay. History was made last week when Alexandre Bilodeau won the first Olympic gold medal -- ever -- on Canadian soil.

But there is one big match to go, on the final day of the Olympics, and everyone here is holding their breath. Hockey is almost a religion in Canada, and from the time a Canadian child is old enough to sit up and watch the television, Saturday evenings means only one thing -- Hockey Night in Canada. The Canadian women's Olympic hockey team won the gold medal Thursday night -- yay! -- for the third time in a row, and so as the Canadian men's Olympic hockey team goes into their final playoff against the United States on Sunday afternoon, we have only one thing to say to them.

Play like girls...!

Making Good Choices...

Children by the Sea in Guernsey
Pierre-Auguste Renoir
1883

One of my co-workers gave her little four-year old boy an expensive toy, and admonished him not to break it -- which of course he promptly did. It's one of Murphy's Laws that the most expensive toy will get broken first. The little fellow's mother was annoyed with him, and later that evening as she listened to him saying his bedtime prayers, she heard him say, "... and please, God, help me to make good choices..." When she told me the story, I couldn't help laughing. Somehow, at the age of four, this little guy had figured out the key to life -- making good choices.

How many of us have made bad choices somewhere along the way? I know I have -- lots of them. Of course, at the time they seemed like good choices, and even despite the advice of older, wiser folks I have still occasionally managed to make bad choices. Sometimes we can head the consequences off at the pass, and get our lives back on track without too much damage being done. Other times we have to live with the consequences for a very long time.

“Everybody, sooner or later, sits down to a banquet of consequences.” ... Robert Louis Stevenson

Fortunately in my life, I have learned from my choices, and the consequences have not been too harsh. In fact, sometimes -- if we're lucky -- the consequences of our poor choices can turn out to be blessings in disguise. The trick, though, as the little fellow says, is to learn to make good choices. I hope God answers his prayer.

Cheers,

Ice Castles

Did anyone see Joannie Rochette's wonderful performance during the short program of the figure skating last night? If there was a dry eye in the house, I would be surprised. Her performance was a beautiful tribute to her mother, Theresa Rochette, who passed away suddenly in the early hours on Sunday morning, at the age of 55. I can't even imagine the courage and determination it took for Joannie to continue with her program. She skated to the music Uruguayan tango La Cumparsita, whose lyrics begin: “The little parade of endless miseries ...”

She skated a flawless performance and ended in third place behind the two top rivals, Japan's Mao Asada and Korean world champion Yu-Na Kim. But the real star of the evening was Joannie Rochette, and as she began her skate with a rousing ovation from her fans she looked so small and fragile, alone on the ice. When she was finished, she stood quietly and wept.

Joannie Rochette is in a very good position of winning a medal after the long performance on Thursday night. But, whoever wins the Gold Medal, the Vancouver 2010 women's figure skating event will always belong to Joannie Rochette.

Where Do They Go?

Last night I watched a wonderful movie about the life of Temple Grandin, starring Claire Danes. Temple Grandin was a high functioning autistic women who went through university and received a Doctorate in Animal Science. She is a visual thinker -- she thinks in pictures -- and is able to recall every detail of anything she sees. She can play it backwards and forwards like a movie, and she says that the spoken word is her second language.

Temple Grandin has an innate affinity for animals, she is able to feel the animals' emotions, and she can identify with the anxiety animals feel when they are being led to slaughter. Because of this, she has designed humane livestock handling processes and has given advice on how to improve standards in slaughter plants and lifestock farms. She has also received awards from PETA.

I think using animals for food is an ethical thing to do, but we've got to do it right. We've got to give those animals a decent life and we've got to give them a painless death. We owe the animal respect. ... Temple Grandin

Last night in the movie she asked a question that resonated with me. When one of her favorite horses, "Chestnut", died and later when her favorite college teacher died she asked, "Where do they go?" It was a compelling question, asked simply. Human beings have pondered that question for millennia. Indeed, where do they go? Every religion and every philosophy has a theory. I have not been able to reach a conclusion to that question myself. I would be interested to know what you think. "Where do they go?"

Lord-Luv-A-Duck...!

Canada is known as the land of geese, ducks and loons (in more ways than one), so I thought I would show you my duck collection.

"Why is she showing us her duck collection...?"

...you're asking. Well, because I am too tired from all sorts of Olympic activities to post about anything even slightly stimulating at the moment, and because I love my collection of wooden ducks. And if you look closely in the background, you will see a couple of brass geese that my daughter gave me for Christmas one year, and when they're polished and the fireplace is on, they glow.

I also have a brass duck on one of my bookcases, and it was the first duck in my collection. The bookcase was built by my father, from a pine tree that he felled and had planed, and it is all built with dowels -- no nails. So somehow my little duck fits nicely with my bookcase. When I was a little girl, my father used to go duck hunting in the woods on Vancouver Island. My mother would cure the soft, down feathers and then she made each of us our own eiderdown comforters. My eiderdown was almost a part of me for years. I would curl up with it when I was reading or watching TV, and whenever I was not feeling well, my mother would say, "Go get your eiderdown, and I'll bring you a hot water bottle."

My eiderdown was paisley, and it resided in a place of honor at the foot of my bed. It was great comfort to me through many of the joys and tribulations of my teenage years. I have been pricing eiderdowns lately, considering buying one. Have you looked a the price of eiderdowns? An eiderdown made of pure eider duck down, such as the ones my mother used to make, cost between $8,000 and $10,000.

My Aunt Molly had two pet ducks named Lucille Ball and Winston Churchill, and I think that was the beginning of my fascination with ducks. And yes, I do eat ducks, and I love duck l'orange. So, there you have it. I am a Canadian, and I have a close, personal relationship with ducks. I suppose that makes me a bit of a loon...