There is No Place Like Home

I recently came home from a trip to Ottawa and Montreal. While there, I visited with some people who are from Manitoba and, for various reasons, have decided to move out to Ontario and Quebec. The reasons vary and each person feels a little different about the home they left behind. It's a weird thing when people leave Manitoba. They either hate it with a passion (but insist on returning for vacations) or they remember it fondly. As for me, I LOVE Winnipeg and am not afraid to admit it in a crowd. Our passion for the city we live in is a pretty personal thing, so I try not to trash a person's hometown in front of them because there is really no place like home whether it is a place you were born in or have decided to move to of your own free will.



Granted, I have decided that Montreal is not my favorite place I've ever visited. I find it way too large and crowded. I felt scared, like the skunk my husband's cousin ran over with her bike on a family camping trip when they were kids. True story. I do get why people love it though and I wouldn't dream of telling a passionate French person that I feel like Winnipeg is definitely a superior city. I mean, I'm not THAT stupid! I just like knowing that in Winnipeg everything is about 20 minutes from my house. (This theory of mine drives my husband crazy because I'm always late due to this belief.) I will say that while there I really broke my vegan rule by eating a sandwich that I think 3 cows had to die for. Look at that thing! Anyhow...Montreal is lovely and people who live there have the right to feel very proud of their city...just like I do.

People ask Winnipeggers how can we stand living here. They look at us like we're crazy. We are the butt of constant jokes...but we're Winnipeggers so we can handle it. So here are my reasons why I live where I live and am very proud to do so.


*A family can actually afford to buy a house here without selling one of their children into slavery.

*I don't have to pay $10.00 for a cocktail at a lounge...that is just the craziest thing. Period.

*The Zoo...and I don't mean where they keep the wildlife. The Zoo is a Winnipeg institution. Who can resist the scary lure of the slightly funky smelling Osborne Village bar? For any Winnipeg teen, going to the Zoo is a right of passage. Just bring hand sanitizer. A lot!

*Which brings me to Osborne Village! That place has been around since hippies stopped washing. A mix of little stores, pubs, restaurants, and squeegee kids. It's right by my place and is the home of my favorite pub-the Toad! Which, just for your info, has hired a lovely new cook which makes it REALLY worth my trip.

*We have an incredible cultural mix in this city. As a result, the restaurant choices are endless. As a teacher, I benefit from the delicious goodies my students' parents send in. As I cross the room on potluck day, I take a side trip to India, the Philippines, and Portugal as I sample each lovingly prepared dish. As an extra bonus, this year my school hosted a cultural bake sale. I came to realize that the three most beautiful words in the English language are "cultural bake sale". I will never admit to how many samosas I ate. Safe to say that watching me eat wasn't a pretty sight.

*Due to our diverse culture, we host Folklorama every year in the city. We have about 40 different groups that set up pavilions where you can enjoy food, dancing, and music. On a good night, you can easily sample the wonderful things that 4 or 5 countries have to offer. Then, the next day, you get to do it all again. Other cities say they have this, but they don't....not on this scale.

*Fringe Festival...lots of great plays at great prices, lasts for days and days, and this year I get to watch my friend Lindsay perform.

*Hello!? Folk Fest! I don't go due to a strange and complex story involving a scary man with a beard (not Santa) that I don't like to talk about but the music festival allows lots of hippies to gather for days and dance around half naked and then spend the night camping out in beautiful Birds Hill Park. I say rock on hippies, rock on!

*We have fanfreakintastic beaches....deal with it.

*In winter we get snow. Lots of snow. White. Pure. Crisp. Perfect. On top of that, we get sun. The days are glorious.

*A fantastic opera and ballet company and so much live theatre, it would make your head spin. We have culture up the wazoo!

*The World Famous Palomino Club: giving hope to cougars for decades.

*Finally, we may have been the city that lost our NHL team but we took the loss with class, never gave up hope, chanted "GO JETS GO!" at every opportunity for any reason, and bought up those season tickets in minutes.

So, do I love my city? Hell yeah! Will I visit yours? If I can. Would I insult your city and point out all it's flaws? Never, because it's yours and you love it. That is good enough for me.

Thank God I'm Not Getting Any Younger!

The kids I teach always seem surprised that I have little desire to be their age again. I proudly tell them how old I am and openly cringe at the thought of having to experience those horrific teenage years again. Why? Well, let me give you a list of the reasons I love getting older:

1. I am old enough to buy my own booze and when I do it isn't with change I've pilfered off of my Dad's dresser. As well, what I do buy is way better quality.

2. I never have to wonder if "He" will call cause he sleeps right next to me and knows he better call because I have the power to make his life miserable.

3. I never have to get ready for another date and I don't have to pretend that my date is funny when he isn't. I also never have to feign interest in topics of conversations that would come up on dates. If I'm bored now, I just leave the room.

4. My job does not require me to say "Do you want fries with that?"

5. When I put weird outfits together now, people just think I'm quirky. When you're a teen you are always one weird outfit away from being totally ostracized from the rest of the population.

6. I can buy as many chocolate bars as I want and eat them all in one sitting if I want. I mean, I wouldn't but it is nice to know that I can.

7. When I ridicule someone now I can use way bigger words!

8. If I really don't want to do something I am now cagey enough to get out of it. A skill most teens don't have.

9. If I see somebody being a total shit monkey to another person, I'm big and mean enough to stop them.

10. I, very rarely, have to run my own errands. This was a teenage dream that I shared with my friend Cheryl. We are both lucky enough now to have errand runners. When you're a teen you're constantly running errands for everyone. You're just a lackey!

11. If I REALLY want to go there, I can go there.

12. I never have to wear makeup again. Frankly, the stuff scares my husband and makes him think I'm up to something. The undertaker might slap some on me but at that point I'll just be happy I'm not the one having to apply the darn stuff.

13. I can afford WAY better shoes!

14. My hearing is starting to go in one ear, so that means that I only hear half of the stupid stuff people are saying.

15. I am quickly approaching what I call the "fist shaking" stage of my life. This is when you get to open your front door, shake your fist, and yell rude things at the neighbourhood children. Who wouldn't want that!

So bring on the support hose and false teeth. Oh yeah, false teeth! Teeth you can remove to brush. How cool is that?!

Conditional Love

Conditional love is a pretty odd concept to normal families. Explaining it to folks who have grown up in a stable family environment can be complicated. They look at me in a confused manner wondering what planet I'm from and what kind of environment I was hatched in. It seems simple to me, but I was raised in it so I'm halfway versed in the intricacies. For the uninformed, conditional love is as follows: when you have been deemed worthy of love by parents and siblings... you get it. What is required to be deemed worthy changes constantly and requires a manual to understand. At 42 I STILL don't understand ALL the rules attached. It is a constant, painful, learning experience.

I was convinced, for a long time, that I was the only person that experienced this phenomena, but as I get older I have come to realize that there are a lot of other bruised souls walking around living in this strange predicament. We, as a society, are force fed images of normal families who love each other and communicate with ease. This, in my opinion, is a myth for a large amount of the population. We watch talk shows that tell us that we should constantly forgive the nasty things that our families do to us. I say BULL! There comes a time when you need to say that enough is enough. You can't pick your family but you can sure as hell walk away from one that treats you like a doormat. Some relationships can't be fixed and aren't worth the constant energy it takes to try.

Thankfully, I married a man who comes from a TOTALLY normal family. Sometimes, I swear he grew up in some 50's sitcom because his family seems so unreal. They love without condition and it took me a long time to get used to that concept. The love his parents give to me, their son, and their grandchildren never changes. It is constant and dependable. I don't think I can ever thank them enough for this. Mostly, it is my husband that amazes me. He is the one who has helped me to open my eyes to the dysfunction junction that is my family. By doing that, he has helped to set me free. Because of him, I know I am worth more and deserve more. I shouldn't have to beg at the table for scraps of love from my family. Neither should anybody else. If you aren't getting what you deserve, walk away. Find a new family. You can make your own. I have come to realize that I have done just that. I have made a new family. I have surrounded myself with the love of my husband's family, my wonderful children, my fantastic husband, and my incredible friends. My new family loves me without condition.

If this resembles your situation in any way, I encourage you to run! Find something normal. You deserve it. Be the best person you can be and ignore the bad press you've been getting. Life is too short to dance this dance. Sit this one out! Find some new partners and embrace something more worthwhile. I know I will!

Keith & Andrew's Excellent Adventure

My husband recently had a to travel to Hong Kong on business. After much discussion, and more than a few concerns, we decided to let our 14 year son go with him. My husband is the sweaty guy on the left. Pictures really do tell a thousand words. My husband is the shade of a tomato and his shirt looks like it has been tattooed on. Meanwhile, the Boy looks as cool as a cucumber.



My husband was more than a little upset with me over this whole trip issue. He knew he had to go to Hong Kong way back in February. I told him to hold off until July, if he could, so I could go along with him. He happily complied. As the date got closer, I thought I would check on weather conditions in Hong Kong in July. Turns out the temperature sits at around 40 C and the humidity sits at close to 100. No way was I going! The only thing that stops me from becoming a mass murderer in summer is my air conditioner. I'm not joking. I have been known to fly into an uncontrollable rage if the car air conditioning doesn't kick in fast enough. So, not only was I not going but my husband was going to have to tolerate that weather because of my addiction to my air conditioner.



I made sure I packed plenty of clean underwear for them and sent them on their way. Turns out-I had made the right call. No sooner had they landed and the Facebook messages started about the heat. After a few days of heat complaints, things got ugly. I would log on to talk to them both in the early evening. The two of them would be sitting in the same room (no doubt scowling at each other) as they typed nasty things about each other. Nothing was off limits and thanks to modern technology I was able to moderate arguments on another continent. They complained how the other one smelled, how much the other one liked to argue, how unfair the other one was being. It was pretty darn funny to me because I wasn't there...thank God!


I was starting to get a little discouraged for two reasons: all the cash to send the boy and all he could do was complain about his Dad and they would be coming home and I'd have to listen to this stuff in person which would take some of the glow off the gifts I anticipated getting. Then...a miracle. Hot and tired they decided to head to a mall. My son spotted a sign for a rink. They looked at each other: two Canadian boys far from home and each hoped it was the right kind of rink. Andrew sprinted ahead and ran back with the news that it was a SKATING RINK IN THE MIDDLE OF HONG KONG! They slipped out of their sandals and slid into their rented skates, sans socks, and skated for 20 glorious minutes. They were giants as they broke all the safety rules and screamed by little kids pushing big plastic peguins for support.

Funny, but those 20 minutes on the ice managed to save the last little bit of their vacation. It's one of their favorite memories of the trip and in the end the trip did what it was supposed to: reminded them they still like each other.

My Mother-In-Law

This is my Mother-in-Law, Linda. The one on the left. This picture scared me a bit because I realized we look a bit alike. I was thinking my husband and I should look a little closer at the old family tree to see if we are related. Our possible biological connection isn't the topic here. It's Linda.

I was married for the first time at the ripe old age of 19. It was the longest 6 months of my life. One of the reasons it was so brutal was because my first Mother-in-Law was Satan's handmaiden. I'm not joking-that woman was so evil it wasn't even funny. I could write a whole book on all the nasty stuff she pulled....maybe I'll save that for another time. I have to be grateful though, she paid for the entire divorce. I only had to pay for the annulment. As a side note-annulments crack me up. For the low price of $400 dollars the Catholic Church declared that I had never been married. Despite the fact that the Church said she was never my Mother-in-Law, I still have nightmares about her and harbour a deep, dark desire to smack her.

When I made the decision that my current husband was going to marry me, whether he liked it or not, I was a bit afraid because I knew I would have to deal with another MIL. I confess to being absolutely terrified about meeting her. My husband had shared a ton of stories about Linda and in all of them she came off as some kind of superwoman. It was with much trepidation that I made the long drive to Transcona (or as I call it-the Motherland) to meet her for the first time. Entering into that house was like stepping into some 50's sitcom. She was perfect, organized, and highly protective of her cub. We danced around each other for a fair amount of time. We are both pretty strong and opinionated (of course I have learned that Linda's opinions are usually the right ones and I call her for advice on big stuff). I admit we got into some scrapes...mostly because I didn't know what to do with how absolutely normal, loving, accepting, and giving she was. I didn't grow up with a mother like that so she kind of caught me off guard.

Linda is truly an amazing woman and I couldn't ask for a better grandmother for my children. She has made my kid's Halloween costumes, sewed all sorts of special blankets that they cherish like crazy, made them amazing birthday cakes, read to them, made Christmas cookies with them, attended more of my kid's sporting events then I have, sends them postcards from everyplace she goes for vacation, always seems to get just the right gift, makes every holiday special, and (most importantly) loves them unconditionally.

Linda has also been an incredible mother to me. I really hit the jackpot with her. She has always encouraged me, helped me when I needed it in any way she could, given me an example of what a mother and wife should be, bought me great Christmas sweaters, brought me back nasty thick rum from Cuba, gave me countless tips on cooking without even knowing it, didn't put up too much of a fight when her son said he was marrying me, turned a blind eye when I've raided her freezer and eaten her dainties, and (I like to think) has loved me unconditionally....except when she has wanted to smack me for something stupid I've done.

I hope I can be half the Mother-in-Law she has been. And don't get any ideas...she's mine and I'm not sharing.

Live in the Now Man

We have become a society that waits. Folks sit around waiting for things to be just so. When things are just so, they figure they can really start living. When they get that expensive car they have been waiting for or when they get that fantastic house they have been holding out for, everything will be gravy. That always makes me kinda sad. People waiting to get before they can live. Life is now. Life is right in front of us and it is truly delicious. I know a ton of people who spend their time shopping, waiting, and wanting to get everything they think they need and I want to smack them. Put your credit card away and sit. Just sit and enjoy. Take a look around you. Now take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter what season it is. If you are sitting and relaxing and you take a great big nose full-it will smell great. Clear your mind of all the wants and needs that you think you have and drink in the day (or night). I think that most folks are filled with sadness because of that long list of things they think they need. It honesty sucks my will to live when people talk about their fancy new cars or newly built and professionally decorated monster houses. I start to clue out and think of potato chips as they describe all the little soul sucking details. Today I am enjoying a long list of very simple things:

• A good cheesy romance novel I took out from the library
• A beautiful sunny day that deepened the old summer tan
• An awesome dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes
• A badly groomed shih tzu who just wants to cuddle on my lap
• The joy of looking at the kids I made (with a little help of course)
• A really good rum and coke made by my extraordinary husband
• The idea of slipping into my bed in a cabin that needs a fair amount of TLC, which I won’t lose a minute sleep over

I also believe that in order to start living and enjoy the little things, you need to clean house. Not literally-don’t be crazy! I mean you have to get rid of the things that make you miserable. I have always been fascinated with the way people will keep folks in their life even when these folks make them unhappy. If somebody’s sole purpose is to take pleasure in making you feel bad- show them the door and tell them not to let it hit them in the ass on their way out. Just because you’ve known somebody since you were in diapers doesn’t mean you should give them a pass for every stinky thing they do to you. You have the right to be treated with respect and to be loved unconditionally (unless you’re one of those Predators I just saw in that movie-they don’t deserve to be loved unconditionally).

There is nothing wrong with guarding your happiness like Lindsay Lohan guards her cocaine stash. Clean out your trash, set limits regarding how much shitty behavior people in your life can get away with, and start enjoying the right now. Trust me-you're worth it.

Real Friends Carbo Load

Maintaining female friendships is like walking barefoot through a weedy lawn. You never know when you'll step on thistles so you have to pick your steps carefully with the full knowledge that one wrong move and you'll be screaming in pain. Women don't fathom why men don't understand us better. Can you blame them? We don't understand each other, so men don't have a hope in hell.

Remember way back to grade school? Remember hanging out with groups of girls who you could never trust? Remember them turning on you in a flash? Remember that awful feeling of being totally alone as your former friends turned their backs on you? This is the reason why I, for the most part, picked male friends. They were pretty hard to offend, they were always fun, and they knew how to keep a secret.

One of my very best friends was a boy I met in third grade. His name was Derrol and as soon as our eyes met across the crowded classroom, we each knew we had found our partner in evil. There were no restrictive girl type rules on what we could or could not do. Nothing was off limits and our imagination ran wild with one new adventure after another. My memories of Derrol and all the ridiculous things we did together still make me laugh.

Our friendship carried on through the years and withstood years of separation when I moved to another province. Letters were exchanged and we would save our allowance to make periodic long distance calls. When I moved back at the age of 15, we picked up as if I had never left. It was during the summer between grade 11 and 12 that Derrol gave me a chance at something I had never had before: a friendship with a girl. He introduced his friend Cheryl to me before he left for a one year stint as an exchange student in Germany. I knew she was the one for me when she jumped on the idea for our first activity without Derrol: crashing a convention for lawyers. My theory was that it was a perfect place to meet men and she agreed. Our searching turned up nothing that day but I think we both realized that we had found something pretty special in each other.

Memories of our friendship have created a crazed mosaic that can only be interpreted by the two of us: school, our first apartment together, marriage, divorce, good and bad men, acts that bordered on the illegal, and death. Cheryl and I had stopped talking for a couple of years over something I'm sure neither of us can remember. It was during this time that Derrol gave us his final gift. We had all lost touch with Derrol for reasons that will remain private. One day Cheryl's mother saw his obituary in the newspaper. Cheryl called me to tell me and the pain I felt in that moment is something I'll never be able to describe. We slowly began to exchange phone calls and were able to find our way back to that friendship we used to share.

It has been years since Derrol passed away and Cheryl and I are back in the swing of things. Granted, we are bit too old for activities that border on the illegal and she tends to fall asleep on my couch when she visits (which puts a real crimp on anything that might take place after 9:00 pm). She is visiting this summer and I plan to put her down for an afternoon nap so I can take her for another late night skinny dip at my cabin. She told me that she had better stop eating carbs before the event. I informed her that with true friends one can carbo-load before skinny dipping and know that their secret is always safe. That's what good friends do.