She's a year old!

I can hardly believe it but Eve is one year old now. Aint' she sweet?

Earth Hour 2008

This is such a small thing to do and not inconvenient at all so let's just have fun with it. Tomorrow, March 29th at 8pm, just turn your lights out for an hour.

For the Bible Tells Me So

One of my favourite quotes was made by the late Erma Bombeck, "Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving." With a Catholic mom and a Baptist father and as a young adult becoming a Salvationist, I know guilt - and yes, it is the gift that keeps on giving.

In my early 30s when it became clear to me that I could not adhere to the heterosexual imperative our society demands, I stepped away from the church. Why hang around someplace where you know that they would run you out just for being who you are?

In the ensuing years I have had to find my own sense of spirituality but have often thought of all the young people, still within their churches, questioning their sexuality. I've read that suicide rates for young people who question their sexuality are much higher than the average and I often wonder if this is not because of the guilt and shame which is inflicted by fundamental and main-stream religions.

This past week while perusing the titles at the video store I came across this title:
For the Bible Tells Me So.

If you are a young person reading this who is struggling with your sexuality or a parent whose child has just revealed her/his sexuality, or anyone who has struggled with reconciling your faith with your sexuality, run to your video store and rent this film.

Six word memoir - meme

I saw this at Hahn's blog and thought I'd use my humble graphics skills and my sick twisted mind to design this hypochondriac's testament:


I tag:

• Drew's Brave New World
• Uncensored Thoughts
• Mimi Writes
• If I Knew Then What I Know Now
• Earth2Karen
  

Here are the instructions for the meme:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

Andrea Martin

I miss SCTV. I loved Andrea Martin's characters: Edith Prickly, Edna Boil, Pirini Scleroso and her impressions of Barbra Streisand, Connie Francis and Bernadette Peters. I think Ms Martin is brilliant and was delighted to see her in the film My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Message in a Bottle

I've been tagged for the first time in my bloglife.

Here are the rules:

You are about to send a virtual Message In a Bottle across the Blog Ocean. Leave a message in the sand or on the bottle. Write anything you wish. Be a pirate or a poet. Serious or silly. Anonymous or not.

What message would you like to send out to the universe?






Click here for a blank picture
Write Your message
Post it and let her know you did here
Tag 5 or more people
I tag:
JLee's Place
Drowsey Monkey
My Brain Hurts
Larry Hnetka Goes Hmm..
Rainbow Pastor

Having my first...

My daughter is expecting her first baby in August. Yes, I'm to be a Memé again. In going through some old file folders I found this little piece I wrote not long after having her.

I loved being pregnant. As my belly grew, I wallowed in the glory of all the preferential treatment I received and the mounds of pecan pie that I consumed. Visions of cherubs filled my dreams. My waking hours were spent decorating the nursery and devouring parenting books and while I fought a loosing battle with girth control, I developed a stout determination to be the best mother that ever walked the earth.

What could possibly go wrong? After all, they're only babies, nature's most adaptable creatures. It would be easy to get an infant on a reasonable schedule within two weeks right? Yes, those were the blissful days filled with pleasant dreams and anticipation of giving birth to the Gerber baby.

Someone once told me that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is - I went into labour three weeks early. Now most people know me as a cool and quite competent woman but I must confess that when my water broke, I lost it. Had it not been for the composed demeanor of the seasoned head nurse, I most certainly would have forgotten everything I learned in prenatal class.

Once I got it together again and resigned myself to the fact that this baby was going to be born before I got the garage to put the snow tires on the car, the delivery went well. Apart from a brief moment of respiratory arrest when they made the mistake with the epidural and froze me from the waist up instead of from the waist down, it was eight mercifully brief hours of labour, delivery in a regular hospital bed and back to the ward in time for supper.

After the delivery I was consumed with energy, ready to tackle anything that came my way and when they brought little Jennifer to me I nursed her like an old pro. Shortly after feeding time was visiting hour and with my cooing bundle nestled in my arms I held court like the Queen Mum. Exuding confidence I proudly exhibited my latest accomplishment and boasted that I felt so good that I felt like going home then and there.

Before I knew it visiting hour was over, my new daughter was finished her final feeding and was whisked off the the nursery until the wee hours of the night when she would be returned to me for another fix. I settled down in bed to rest and dream about which of her new outfits I would bring her home in.

The morning bustle of the hospital roused me with vague recollections of fumbling in the dark with a screaming infant - surely a nightmare. When the nurse came in with my baby I asked her if anyone got the number of the bus that hit me. She giggled, placed Jennifer in my arms and on crepe soles squeaked away to get the rest of the layette.

Jennifer was wide away and hungry. Our eyes met and at that moment she began to howl. Perhaps I should have combed my hair I thought. Oh well, maybe if I feed her she might like me better. Calmly I began to go through the motions of breast feeding and as I pulled my baby towards me the reality of the situation overwhelmed me. I was condemned. For the next eighteen years I was solely responsible for this child.

Instantly my bravado dissolved, I was utterly inept and it wasn't long before I was howling louder than the baby. I spent the rest of the morning sobbing into my pillow, inconsolable, trying to bear the disgrace of knowing that my baby was in the nursery being bottle fed.