You know, I really don't care how many seats you take up on an airline, or how much you paid for them. Chances are, the person sitting next to me paid a different price for their ticket than I did anyway. The pricing scheme of airline tickets is a mystery mere mortals will never understand. But I would like to point out that even my size 6 butt, and non-statuesque 67 inches of height, find air travel uncomfortable and airline seats way too small.
Capt Mike is a tall, gangly fellow. When he travels by air, he must sit sideways in an aisle seat and stick his knees out into the aisle to accomodate his lengthy stems. Sadly, though being tall is entirely beyond his control, it is not considered a disability. As such, he cannot ask the airline to take the financial hit of removing the seat in front of him so he can sit normally and comfortably. Were he to ask, he would be told he was being unreasonable. And he likely would be being unreasonable. But height is a genetic condition, and many would argue so too is obesity. In modern Canadian society, are we not all supposed to be able to enjoy the same rights and priveleges, whether we need two seats to accomodate length or girth?
At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,
He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare:
For, though low down upon the list, I’m there;
‘In proud and glorious memory’ … that’s my due.
Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:
I suffered anguish that he’s never guessed.
Once I came home on leave: and then went west…
What greater glory could a man desire?
-Siegfried Sassoon, Memorial Tablet
For those of you yet to celebrate Thanksgiving (i.e., my American friends and family), or those of you planning on serving Turkey and all the fixin's for Christmas, here are some recipes you might enjoy. They went over quite well this past weekend. I even converted someone to a cranberry connoiseur.
Kickin' Cranberry Sauce
1 bag fresh cranberries (~3 cups), rinsed and whole
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup orange juice
1 cup sugar (raw or white)
1 fresh jalapeno pepper, seeded and finely chopped
Combine sugar, orange juice, and water in a saucepan and bring to a boil.
Add cranberries and jalapeno pepper, and continue to cook until liquid has reduced by ~1/2 and cranberries have mostly popped.
Transfer to a sealed container and let sauce set in refrigerator overnight.
Gorganzola Beans
Don't let blue cheese scare you off this savoury side.
4 cups green beans, cleaned and stems removed
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp butter
2 tbsp chopped walnuts
1/4 cup crumbled gorgonzola or Danish blue cheese
Preheat oven to 375 F.
Spread green beans evenly over bottom of greased, non-stick baking dish.
Dob with butter, and season with salt, pepper, and balsamic vinegar.
Bake for ~15 min, stirring occasionally.
Add walnuts, toss, and continue cooking for ~10 minutes.
Toss with cheese before serving.
Cranberry Walnut Stuffing (for in the bird)
Some people worry about eating stuffing that's been cooked in the bird. As long as the bird hasn't sat stuffed for an extended period of time before going in the oven, and proper kitchen hygiene and handwashng has been followed, in-bird stuffing is both safe and delicious.
Half loaf of Italian bread, torn or cut into bite-sized pieces
1/2 cup white wine
1/4 cup olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp savoury (or to taste)
1 tsp rosemary (or to taste)
1 tsp thyme (or to taste)
2 tbsp chopped walnuts
2 tbsp dried cranberries
Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl, and toss well. Ensure bread is well moistened with wine and oil.
Cover, and refrigerate overnight.
Stuff loosely into cavity of bird just before roasting.
Bon apetit!
Earlier this week, three females aid workers were killed by insurgents in Afghanistan. Among them were two Canadian citizens. The Globe and Mail dutifily reported the story, and closed the on-line version to comments.
Also earlier this week, two Canadian soldiers were killed by insurgents in Afghanistan. The Globe and Mail reported those stories too, but left the articles unlocked for "semi-moderated" comments. As usual, several hundred readers used the opportunity to voice their opinions on Canada's mission in Afghanistan. Predicatably, those with dissenting views far outnumbered those who fully understand and appreciate the reality of Canada's role -- that we are not, nor were we ever, there as peacekeepers.
Every time a Canadian soldier dies or is killed overseas, the Globe and Mail opens the article for comments, the majority of which have little positive to say about the job our troops are doing. I am not sure if irony is the correct word to use here. If it is, it is of the bitter variety indeed. Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan die in an effort to provide security and stability to the country, thereby allowing NGOs and aid workers better access to the people who need their support and care. Were we to listen to the majority of commenters on The Globe and Mail, we'd pull our troops out of Afghansitan... thus increasing the danger of the conditions that humanitarian organizations face, and increasing the likelihood of further aid workers becoming casualties.
I used to rely on The Globe and Mail for intelligent, accurate reporting. Now, however, they seem to enjoy stirring up controversy in their on-line forums, only opening for comment those articles they know will elicit argumentative responses. No one would dare post a negative comment about a dead aid worker (let alone three of them, and female at that), but many readers seem all too eager to speak ill of dead soldiers. I have read posts calling them everything from undisciplined to trigger-happy adrenaline junkies. It is disappointing, to say the least.
Way back when I and the three other Canadian wives of Quantico were working on our presentation on Canada for the International Officers' Wives Club, we had the difficult task of distilling all that is emblematic or iconic about Canada into an easily digestible 10 minute PowerPoint presentation and three course meal.
It was not an easy task, though 3/4 of us were in agreement probably about 3/4 of the time. However, one part of the Canadian cultural mosaic that I felt extremely strong about presenting to our International colleagues was the contribution of Native culture and its diversity to Canadian society.
It appears that 3000 of my Canadian peers don't feel the same way. In a poll to determine the 101 most iconic images of Canada or most meaningful contributions and accomplishments of Canadians, 3000 Canadians completely neglected to identify a single image or person from Native culture as being a defining part of Canadian heritage. No soaring totem poles, or potlatches, or inukshuk (despite being adopted as part of the 2010 Olympic logo), none of the organic, sweeping designs of Douglas Cardinal, nor the ethereal vibratto of Buffy Ste. Marie.
What that means about how Canadians view Aboriginal culture is, I suppose, open to interpretation, and will probably be debated by people a lot smarter and more well informed than those of us here at Saedigh.com. But I, personally, think it's pretty sad.
I know I've already devoted a portion of an entry to Dr. Henry Morgentaler's induction into the Order of Canada, but considering how many opinions from the pro-life (as-long-as-you're-a-fetus) crowd I've had to endure flooding the Letters to the Editors pages, why shouldn't I use my own little electronic soap box to further my agenda?
If you were to read any of these letters over the last two weeks (yes, it's only been a fortnight we've had to rehash this tired debate...I know it seems longer), you'd think Dr. Morgentaler invented abortions; indeed, he is painted as single-handedly responsible for a vertiable genocide of Canadian fetuses. What the vocal religious conservative minority refuses to acknowledge is that Canadian woman were seeking abortions--dangerous, archaic abortions performed without adequate medical expertise--long before Dr. Morgentaler ever opened his Montreal practice. They also make little mention of the fact that he is not the first medical practitioner who advocated illegal birth control and was inducted into the Order. Elizabeth Bagshaw, one of Canada's first female physicians and the director of an illegal birth control clinic in Hamilton, Ontario, was inducted into the Order in 1972.
The motto of the Order of Canada is They desired a better country. Henry Morgentaler desired a Canada in which women were not driven underground to be butchered by quacks with coathangers, and fought for this vision of Canada at great personal cost. He was and remains an advocate of humanism, women's rights, and civil liberties. If those are not values that should unify Canadians, then I don't know what would be.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a good beer-in-the-cooler, car-camping adventure as much as the next Canuck. But chances are, if I am going to a car-camping venue, they will likely already have some sort of running hot-water facility there. And if I am going camping anywhere that doesn't have that, I probably don't want to make Capt Mike carry our not-so-portable water heater on top of all of our actual necessities.
If you need hot water, a kitchen with shelving, china dinnerware, and lodgings with 3 separate rooms, why not just stay at a Marriott? Or better yet, stay home and leave the great outdoors to the people who can actually appreciate it.
We are home. Not just back north of the 49th parallel, but in our own home. Well, ours and TD Bank's. This time around, the move went far more smoothly than last. Don't get me wrong...they were rough spots. The cleaners we hired to help get the PMQ ready for march out were not particularly thorough, Zeppelin had explosive diarrhea in our motel room in Fredericksburg, and Dexter decided to wait until after our hose had been packed and our bathrooms cleaned to have a nice roll around in some skunk poo. But those incidents were nothing compared to our previous move's SNAFUs. This time, our F&E arrived on time, and most of the boxes have already been unpacked and carted away. The only damages we've noted so far are a crushed wok lid, a dented toaster, and a chipped salad bowl.
Capt Mike and I are puppiless at the moment. Dexter and Zeppelin are staying with their grandparents in Simcoe. We thought they'd have a less stressful time there than they would here while we were running around doing our closing-related business and starting on our home renovations. We were right. So far, they've been treated to swim sessions almost every day, long walks every day, hamburgers, steak, beef knuckles, and the constant attention of their doting Grampa Jerry. I am actually slightly worried that they won't want to leave their canine Shangri La to come home on Saturday. I am hoping that homemade meatballs and caesar salad will help them remember they have a pretty sweet deal here, too.
Being puppiless, Capt Mike and I have been a whirlwind of activity since last Thursday when the house officially became ours. Veritable taping, painting, carpet lifting, vinyl laying, furniture assembling, unpacking, organizing, reorganizing, cleaning, laundering, mowing, trimming, and watering machines. We've painted the dining room, living room, den-now-dog room, bedroom, Mike's study, and the wall in the basement that had been covered in olive drab velvetted wall paper. We've pulled out the shag carpet that was in the "den" off of the dining room, and installed peel and stick vinyl tile and painted over the wood panelling to make a cheerful and dog-friendly containment facility. (Our next project, before I return to school in September, is to install a doggy door, so the boys can come and go from their garden of earthly delights as they please.) We've hung new curtains in the living and dining rooms, and a bamboo blind in the dog room. We've assembled our rec room Ikea furniture (a Poang, a Beddinge, and four Laks). We've even started to hang pictures in the rooms where we've finished painting molding and trim. Today, a man is coming to paint our foyer and Phase 1 of the cosmetic updating of our home will be complete. Phases 2 (recarpetting the basement and downstairs), 3 (updating the fixtures in both bathrooms), and 4 (updating the kitchen) require more time and money, which we will likely not have until I've graduated. Once that's done, we'll likely be moving on. Such is the life of the wife of a soldier.
*My mom used to say this almost every time she pulled our Volvo into the driveway of where ever we were living when I was a wee one. I may not be remembering it correctly, having last heard it through the ears of a 4 year old. I've heard variations of it over the years, but would love to know the origins of the phrase.
If you think that the Conservatives are not trying to control your reality by controlling the information you receive, check out this story from the CBC:
"Among the information removed by Industry Canada employees were some paragraphs including speculation, such as:
'Prentice has been responsible for developing new Canadian Intellectual Property laws akin to the DMCA in the United States, partly due to pressure from US-based advocacy groups. While he had promised to 'put consumers first,' the draft legislation seems to cater strictly to industrial groups and Prentice has now suggested consumer interests may not be heard for years. Indeed, Prentice has refused to talk to a group of protesters who went to his office to express their concern.'"
Recently added glowing language about the Minister and his planned legislation has also been traced back to an Industry Canada IP address. A commenter named david999 on the CBC site says it best:
"If Prentice's staffers are not bright enough to carry their laptops around the corner to the nearest Starbucks and edit his entry from there (where their IP addresses wouldn't be traced back to Industry Canada), they're definitely not bright enough to draft new Internet copyright legislation."
Well, Capt Mike and I just returned from our first house-hunting (and house-purchasing) experience. It was successful, in that we ended up with what will become a roof over our heads as of June 26th, but there were certainly moments when I was doubting we'd find anything.
Since we were arriving in Belleville on Wednesday night at 11 pm, and had to leave for the airport on Wednesday morning by 11 am, we basically had 4 business days in which to accomplish viewings of potential houses, making offers, negotiating offers, finding lawyers, securing the mortgage, and getting the inspection done. So, it was a pretty hectic 4 business days. Even the two non-banking days, Saturday and Sunday, were still pretty busy with leg work.
Just finding a house we were willing to make an offer on was the hardest part. We spent Thursday afternoon, all day Friday, and a good part of Saturday driving all over the Quinte area looking at split levels and bungalows. (Good luck finding yourself two full storeys for under $200 K in the Hastings - Prince Edward region.) The house we ended up with was actually one we'd seen on the first day, but had discounted because the whole endeavour was one big blur, and we had it confused with two or three other places in our minds. After an offer on a different house was met with total resistance by the sellers, our real estate agent (of whom not enough glowing, lovely things can be said...Lorraine, you are awesome) convinced us to take a second look at the 4-level split on the west end.
And so, without further ado, I introduce our new home as of June 26th, 2008:
She needs a little bit of work and some updating, which we will tackle in baby steps, given that I am going to have a negative income as of September. Our top priority is the installation of a doggie door so that Dexter and Zeppelin can come and go from the backyard as they please, and some fresh paint colours in a few of the mainfloor rooms. There is a bit of a wood panelling issue in the mudroom and down in the basement, which might have to be taken care of creatively if we don't want to break the bank. But other than that, she's a pretty solid little house: 4 decently sized bedrooms, two full bathrooms with double sinks, a living room, dining room, and eat-in kitchen, and a cold storage room in the basement in case I care to take up pickling or canning as a hobby down the road.
The best feature though, by far, is that it's ours. For the next 3 years, anyway.
How does a man whose criminal record included rape, sexual assualt with a weapon, kidnapping, and, my personal favourite, escaping custody, manage to walk out of jail? Probably because some idiot thought it was a good idea to place him in a minimum security facility.
His other more violent crimes aside, shouldn't someone who has previously proven they are an escape risk lose their chance of going on the lam again, by being locked away somewhere with slightly more rigourous controls? And shouldn't that be even more true when you do take into account a violent criminal history, such as Blane MacDougal's?
I do not understand why the Canadian justice system insists on erring on the side of the criminal, not on the side of the victims or potential future victims. Currently, the RCMP are appealing to MacDougal's conscience to turn himself in. They want a man who once sexually assaulted two young women in the space of 24 hours, one at knifepoint, to "do the right thing". Why should he start now?
MacDougal was labelled a dangerous offender back in the ewarly 90s, but since Canada currently has no legislation mandating that such offenders serve their time in maximum-security institutions, he was able to convince his keepers that he was being rehabilitated, and was given the opportunity to serve the remainder of his sentence in a minimum-security jail in the Fraser Valley...from which he escaped 6 days ago.
The last time he escaped custody, he fled to the US, found a partner in crime, and left the man they robbed to die of exposure in a field. I can only hope that history will have the mercy not to repeat itself.
I received my voter registration card for the province of Ontario in the mail a couple of days ago. It's the first time I've ever gotten a card, and not had to register at the poll, and here I am with nowhere to use it. Anyway, it was also the first I'd heard that we were having an election, so I decided to head on over to Google News to find out what was going on.
The first article I found told of the upcoming election... and Referendum! What? Was Ontario declaring itself the third solitude? Why hadn't I heard of that down here? It was only after clicking on the sensational headline that I realized the referendum was about electoral reform. How boring. But then, down at the bottom of the page, under related news items, was something really intriguing: the proposal to do away with state-funded religious institutions in Ontario, i.e., finally getting rid of the Catholic school boards. I was shocked. Not because people were proposing that separate schools no longer receive government funds, but for two other reasons: that it wasn't seen as a more important election issue than electoral reform, and because of the amount of resistance there was to it.
Now, I understand that Catholics are currently the largest religious group in Canada. Hell, even I used to be counted among their number. But I also know that their numbers are declining, and that in Ontario, they do not make up the majority of the population as they do in provinces such as Quebec or New Brunswick. As the numbers of Catholics in Canada declines, the numbers of people describing themselves as non-religious have increased, as have the numbers of people who follow non-Christian religions. And yet, the only people to be given special treatment (i.e., government funding for their separate schools) outside of the public school curriculum are Catholics.
So far, all I have heard from Dalton McGuinty on the subject is that he wishes to maintain the status quo. I, however, would like to know why? No one seems to be willing to answer that question. No one seems to be willing to state any logical reason for the public funding of any religious institution. Oh, people are happy enough to tell us why Muslims shouldn't be allowed to have publicly funded Muslim schools (they'll breed terrorists, don't you know?), but no one is willing to tell us why Catholics should.
Yesterday (20 June 2007), Toronto City Council voted unanimously to keep the "Support the Troops" decals on city emergency vehicles, but not without first sparking heated internet debates across the nation.
The decals had been placed on firetrucks and ambulances; firefighters had purchased their own decals with their own money, whereas paramedics had apparently used city money, amounting to $3000.00. Mayor Miller felt that the decals made a political statement, and that by supporting the troops, you were in effect supporting war.
While reading the on-line posts commenting on the original article on globeandmail.com, I realised that there are an awful lot of people who don't know what exactly the yellow ribbon means.*
The yellow ribbon symbolises the desire for the safe return home of our soldiers, from whatever engagement or mission they've been sent on by our government. It is no more an "empty expression of American patriotism" than a red ribbon would be an empty expression of sympathy for Americans with AIDS. A yellow ribbon has no nationality. It cannot be replaced with a poppy, which many commenters touted as a better, more Canadian alternative. The poppy already holds a very important meaning: remembering those who have died in service of their country.
Whether or not you support the mission in Afghanistan, or any other endeavour Canada's military has embarked upon, is your freedom of choice. It is freedom that has been assured to you by the sacrifices of the men and women who serve this country, and those of their families who love them. Respecting people who have the courage to respond when they are called upon by their country is not a political statement.
*Proceeds from the sales of yellow (or "CadPat") ribbons and other Support the Troops merchandise bought at CanEx and other licenced retailers support services and organizations that assist military personnel and their families across Canada. For more information on purchasing such merchandise, please visit the CanEx Web site.
Well, Capt Mike has arrived "safely" in Kandahar. He got there early Wednesday, but the recent events there meant that there was a communications lockdown, and he was only able to call me last night. The time difference appears to be about 8 hours. It was 6:00 am for him, and 10:00 pm the night before for me.
He has a few days at the airfield in Kandahar before heading out to a forward operating base (FOB), where he will likely be staying until his HLTA in November. He said that the weather is hot and dry, and everything is coated with a fine white dust so that you feel like you're walking through icing sugar. While on the airfield he is able to share an air-conditioned trailer with his friend Max, but the accomodations will probably be less cushy out in the FOB.
It seems that Tim Horton's is a big hit, not just with the Canadian troops. The Americans and French use it too, so there are always line ups. Mike has instead been getting his coffee at an American Starbucks rip-off. Junk food is apparently ubiquitous. Of all the things our western culture chooses to export, Big Macs, doughnuts, and aspartame are at the top of the list. Pop can be consumed at every meal, in any quantity, and an as yet unconfirmed rumour has it that there are barrels full of chips and candy bars around the cafeteria/mess hall (whatever they are calling it over there). It will be difficult to maintain a healthy diet, especially when he switches to having to eat MREs, but skipping a meal is probably not something you want to do. It's definitely not something Mike can afford to do. I have horrible visions of him coming home as nothing more than one large sinew with sunken cheeks and eyes. But in 6 months, I will happily take that over any other option the universe might throw our way.
It hit me, when we got off the phone last night: this is really happening.
I've been feeling kind of bitchy lately, and while there is empirical evidence that it could be the direct result of PMS, I don't think it's the hormones. I really think that everyone else has the problem. What the hell is going on in the world?
Lebanon
Average man-on-the-street Canadians (read: white guys who read The Sun newspapers) are pissed off that there are 50 000 people who hold dual Lebanese-Canadian citizenship. Their already low opinion of "hyphenated Canadians" is served particularly well by the number of images the media has chosen to show portraying Lebanese citizens fleeing from Southern Lebanon and complaining about the slow response from Canadian and other governments to get them out of the country. Let's put this into perspective Canada: First, these people, our fellow Canadians, are fleeing a god-damned war zone. They are probably not at their best when they appear on camera. They are scared, they are confused, and they are worried. Showing pictures of calm evacuees would make for some pretty boring 6 o'clock news, and would probably have you complaining that we're spending so much money on an evacuation from somewhere that looks so peaceful on TV. Second, Canada's response was pretty darn slow. Even the Prime Minister didn't know what to say. If you tried to call the embassy in Beirut to find out what to do, or where to go, you got no answer. The airport was destroyed. Roads were being destroyed. How the hell were people supposed to evacuate without international assistance? Third, why do you have a problem with dual citizenship anwyay? If Canada became unstable and engulfed in a civil war, I'd get the hell of out here. I'd be one of the first people on a plane to a new home. I'd probably take up citizenship there, and dutifully pay my taxes, contribute to society, and even serve jury duty when called. But as nice and kind as my adoptive country might be (I would hope I would be treated a little more nicely than the average New Canadian is currently treated by Joe Redneck), I would always hope that some day I could return to my home and native land when it became safe again.
Declining numbers in gym class
A recent study has shown that fewer and fewer high school students are enrolling in gym class after completing their mandatory single-course requirement in grade 9. People are saying it's because it's too hard to balance gym, a class that requires 0 homework, with all of the courses required to graduate now that we have no Grade 13 in Ontario. People... before the abolition of grade 13, students in Ontario had to complete 30 course credits between grades 9 and 12. After the abolition of grade 13, students still have to complete 30 credits between grades 9 and 12. The course load is the same. Students are just lazy. And the best cure for laziness? Physical activity! I took gym every year during high school completely voluntarily. I managed to do so while balancing advanced courses above my grade level and maintaining an A+ GPA. I wasn't great at gym. I wasn't an athlete. But I relished having 50 min, 4 days each week, where I didn't have to think all that much and just ran around sweating. Taking gym in highschool encouraged me to try new things, like cross country skiing, ultimate, and climbing mountains. I will never be at the elite level in any of these activities, and may never do some of them again, but at least I know that my body is capable of doing more than reacting to two-dimensional images and memorizing the periodic table.
Bystander Apathy
Last week and 17-year-old boy in Toronto was beaten for an hour, then dragged 1.5 km to a ravine and left for dead. In broad daylight. In front of witnesses. The residents of the urban trailer park (read: slum) where this took place saw the assault and heard his cries, but figured that it would be too dangerous for them to step in and help. Now they are upset that their neighbourhood is going to such a hell, even though they've provided the handbasket. Guess what people? You were supposed to call the police. Every time you heard someone scream out in pain. Every time you saw a group of thugs laying into a victim. Every time you witnessed suspicious activity, you shouold have called the police. Had you done your duty as a citizen then, maybe Omar Wellington might be alive today. Your neighbourhood has gone to hell because you have let it do so. It's your fault, and the blood is on your hands.
On a day when much of the country was celebrating what it is to be a Canadian, and Newfoundland was honouring the 733 young soldiers who lost their lives in Beaumont-Hamel, a drunken POS Ottawa reveller and his two friends decided to show Canada and Canadian veterans exactly how they felt... by urinating on the National War Memorial.
A member of the Legion caught the act on camera, and sent his photos in to the Ottawa Police who are now actively searching for the perpetraitors. Meanwhile, the Legion is calling for increased security at the site that could include a fence and gaurds on duty 24 hours.
One of the things I loved about living in the National Capital was the fact that it was free from the oppressive sense of security you feel in other high-profile political cities. Don't get me wrong, the security is there, it's just very subtle. It allows you to play ultimate on the lawn in front of the centre block, or picnic on the grounds of the Governor General's residence. We, Canadians, earned these priveleges because at one time we were responsible enough to handle them properly.
The gods may throw a dice
Their minds as cold as ice
And someone way down here
Loses someone dear
The winner takes it all
The loser has to fall
Its simple and its plain
Why should I complain.
The winner takes it all
The loser standing small
Beside the victory
Thats her destiny
I got a letter from the Prime Minister today. The Right Honourable Stephen Harper, PM, thanked me for the work I've done since the new government took office in February. He's also eager to work with me on making sure his baby, the Federal Accountability Act, ensures that Canadians get "the government they expect and deserve".
Well, Steve, I hate to break it to you, but I think that an awful lot of Canadians were expecting a government they could trust, and that they deserve one that doesn't insist on using the back door to escape the House of Commons. (And sadly, that is not a euphemism. The Rt. Hon. PM actively avoids media scrums after sessions in the House and after caucus meetings.) I'd be more than willing, as both a tax payer and a public servant, to help them achieve that goal. Which is why I will continue to not vote for the New Conservative Party (or any other name you decide to call yourselves when the going starts getting tough.... and given the course you're set on so far, the waters are already looking pretty rough).
*as stated in a memo sent yesterday to every member of the Federal Public Service of Canada on Steve's behalf.
Congratulations to the Olympic Champion Canadian Women's Hockey team!
There was never any doubt in my mind that they'd be able to bring home a gold medal, but it doesn't mean that the victory wasn't earned or deserved. The Women's team took a lot of flack early on during the round robin after some blow-out games. They were criticised for playing to the best of their ability, and not going easy on some of their opponents. What the hell is that? People never told Babe Ruth to stop hitting so many home runs. They never told Donovan Bailey to slow down a bit. I think that if you're competing at the Olympics, and you're not performing to the best of your ability, you really don't have any business being there.
If the Canadian Men's hockey team were blowing other teams out of the water, no one would be talking about how unsportsmanlike they were behaving. We'd be busy changing street names and organizing parades in their honour. Too bad they're sucking too hard so far to prove me wrong.
He's been Prime Minister for all of 3 hours, and already Stephen Harper has killed two campaign-promise birds with one stone. Michael Fortier has been appointed to the senate (despite campaigning for an elected senate) so that he, an unelected official, can sit in the cabinet as Minister of Public Works (Harper said he'd never appoint an unelected person to a cabinet position).
We've got to watch this one carefully folks.
Today, we go to the polls. After almost two months of listening to campaign promises and mud slinging (the mud slung has far outweighed the promises made), Canadians have a decision to make. One that most people feel amounts to choosing between the lesser of two evils. The devil we know: Paul Martin and the Liberal party (although they should officially be taking a small l in their name these days). Or the devil we're pretty sure we've seen somewhere before: Stephen Harper and the Reformacons.
I am not sure if scholars of the future will look back on this day as a seminal point in Canadian history, but I am afraid they will. Why? Because history has a funny way of repeating itself, and we've seen this all before. A saviour charging in from the west, ready to rid a goverment of corruption; pandering to moderates with promises of tax reform, and new social programs, and promising to be kept in line by the built-in checks and balances of good government. Sound familiar?
Stephen Harper will win a minority government. If there is any justice in the world, and if Canadians aren't too stupid to see it, they will elect enough NDP to carry the balance of power, if not be the official opposition. The Liberals are old and tired and desperately need a 100000 km tune-up, but that's no reason to hand our country to the neocons on a silver platter.
Stephen Harper has a not-so-hidden agenda. He is trying to gain our confidence with a newer, friendlier conservative party. A confidence that will win him the chance to form a government and enact seemingly innocent pieces of legislation, like the National Day Care program. A lot of parents struggling to pay day care bills see $1200 a year off the books as a welcome bit of relief. But when that $1200 comes at the expense of funding more subsidized spaces or educating people to be qualified early-childhood educators, it will offer little relief to the women who must leave the workforce and stay at home to raise their children, a choice that most modern, Canadian families simply cannot afford to make.
Yes, Stephen Harper will try to earn our trust through instant gratification. He will buy our votes with cuts in taxes that amount to little more than sleight of hand. And when he has it, he will call another election. I can see the campaign slogan now: See? That wasn't so bad now, was it? And he will win. And that is when we will start to see the real changes that Stephen Harper wants to make to our country. And by then, it will already be too late.
With last night marking the beginning of the second round of "leadership" debates as we approach election day, I decided I couldn't stay quiet any longer.
Some of the networks refer to the debates as the Prime Ministerial debates. If that's the case, why the hell does Gilles Duceppe get so much air time? He can never be the Prime Minister of Canada, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which are that (a) the Bloc doesn't run enough candidates in enough ridings to form even a minority government and (b) he's a separatists who, on principle, should reject being given leadership of the country from which he's so desperate to distance himself.
Other networks refer to the debates as the Leadership Debates, which begs the question: Where the hell is the leader of the Green Party? In the 2004 election, the Green Party ran candidates in every single riding across Canada, won support in the form of almost 600 000 votes and 4.3% of the popular vote, but didn't win a single riding. (By contrast, the Bloc won 54 seats with less than three times the number of votes. So much for proportional representation.)
You may ask yourself who it is that decides who is invited to participate in the televised debates. Surely, it must be some elected official? A bureacrat? A senator perhaps? Of course not. The decision rests in the hands of a consortium of five Canadian broadcasters. Five network executives with no direct accountability to the democratic process in this country. Five partisan mortals.
Perhaps if the Green Party of Canada wasn't relegated to the political kiddy table during the debates, they could translate popular support into a riding or two? I mean, would urban agriculture and food-share initiatives really be such a bad thing?
It would seem that regardless of which day I choose to commute into O-town, Mother Nature will wreak havoc along the way. I forecast that from now until March, we will be getting heavy snow and (or) freezing rain every Thursday along highway 17.
Wow. You leave Ottawa for a couple of days, and they go and dissolve parliament...
Well, the move went well. Surprisingly well. Capt. Mike and I had the whole apartment packed up and in the truck by 9 pm on Friday. I was a little worried that we wouldn't be able to do it all on our own, but since we weren't moving anything very large, we managed to get it all done very quickly. We drove to Pembroke on Friday night, and after a very yummy breakfast at Klässi's Bakery around the corner, we started to unload the truck and unpack all of the boxes. I am happy to report that by Sunday afternoon, all that was left was to hang a couple of pictures on walls. We're done. Settled in. Well, most of us are...
...Dexter is feeling a little bit anxious. He's been very clingy and insecure lately. All last week he was being very strange. He'd be playing with his friends at the offleash, and then all of a suddent tuck his ears back, tail between his legs, and come running back to sit by me. I think he should feel a bit better by the end of this week. He just needs some time to re-establish his little routine. He does like running around in the larger apartment though. And there is so much more furniture for him to hide under and make into little dens. He'll be back to normal in no time.
Driving back to Ottawa along Highway 7 on Sunday evening, I couldn't escape the bitter truth. Summer is coming to an end. Just one week after that last long weekend of the season, and already the leaves are beginning to turn. That's one great thing about living here: though some of them may be a little too short for our liking, we do get to experience all four seasons in the Ottawa Valley.
Unfortunately, Mother Nature seems to be a little confused in other parts of the country. Bypassing the enchantment of Autumn altogether, Crowsnest Pass, Alberta, experienced an 18-inch snowfall Sunday and Monday. I guess she needed to shore up all those misconceptions that we're a snowbound, huskie-driving nation of lumberjacks, eh?
Keanu Reeves is the 100th Wealthiest Canadian?
Why do I find that odd? Possibly because I don't really think of him as a Canadian. Jim Carrey, yeah. Celine Dion, unfortunately. Tom Green....he's pretty much in the same category as Celine in terms of "national pride". I'm not sure why I don't associate Keanue with the Great White North. Maybe he just doesn't fit the stereotype that even us Canadians buy into. Mike Myers looks like he could survive in Algonquin park for at least a few days on his own. I am sure that with all his Mighty Ducks training, Joshua Jackson could hold his own in a game of shinny. Carrie-Anne Moss wouldn't look all that out of place in a Molson commercial. And you just know that Rachel McAdams probably hums I's the B'y in the shower. Keanu Reeves just doesn't seem to fit the bill (though by all accounts, he is a decent goalie).
That was the reaction from one of George Stroumboulopoulos' audience members after watching the speeches from the PM and leaders of the opposition tonight. I missed Prime Minister Paul's speech, but apparently he apologised to the Canadian public, and said that an election would be held 30 days after Justice Gomery finishes his inquiry.
Yay.
But that's not what this entry is about. This entry is about the total apathy of the Canadian public towards our own political culture. Apathy that causes people to be more interested in watching Jeopardy! than hearing what our Prime Minister has to say. I don't care if you think that his apology was politically motivated, but MY GOD, if you are more upset about not getting to watch E! Talk Daily than you are about the almost complete lack of accountability in the Liberal party, maybe you shouldn't be allowed to vote when the election finally does come.
Molson has retired its patriotic "I Am Canadian" tagline for the less nationalistic "It Starts Here" in the wake of being bought out by Adolf Coors.
I have to admit, I am sad to see the old slogan go. Beer commercials, Canadian beer commercials, used to be immensely entertaining. They weren't just about T&A and testosterone. They were witty, self-deprecating, even kind of inspiring. What Canadian didn't feel a bit of a lump in their throat when they heard Joe's rant for the first time? Canadian beer commercials, unlike their American counterparts, weren't just aimed at guys. They were aimed at Canadians.
That's no longer the case. The new ads aren't exactly offensive to women, they're just kind of stupid. One features a California blonde coyly pouting into the camera saying "I am so angry at my boyfriend right now." Music to any self-respecting beer swiller's ears I suppose, but hardly an original or interesting statement.
But I guess you don't need to be original or interesting when you're selling beer to Canadians. You're pretty much preaching to the choir. We're going to buy it. We're going to drink it. But couldn't we at least have a bit of a laugh while we're doing it?
Ernst Zundel (I don't particularly care if I spelled the hate mongers name right) is not a Canadian citizen. Why then, are so damn many people concerned about him not being protected by Canada's charter of rights and freedoms, or the Canadian constitution?
The man was a criminal. He had an outstanding arrest warrant in Germany. His visa here had expired, as had his visa for the U.S. Regardless of what you think about security certificates, he had no right to be in this country.
Unfortunately now, he is further down the road to martyrdom for his sick, twisted, spiteful cause. I guess it's a lose–lose situation really. But I am glad to see the back of him.
Well, actually, I do. I just borrowed that from Kathleen Edwards. But I wasn't wearing them yesterday, and could possibly have helped my performance.
Yesterday, after the conditions at the canal proved to be a little less than mediocre for most of its length, Jane and Robin and I decided to go play some hockey. Now, I haven't played hockey since high school, and back then, I played it on a grass pitch while wearing a skirt (the British have very different ideas about appropriate attire for physical education). I am far more capable of stopping in sneakers or cleats than I am on skates. But, after a short warm up, it was decided that I was ready to play with Other People. Those other people were Jay, Joe, Tony (who played net quite admirable despite only filling up exactly 1/8 of the space between the pipes), Adam, and some of their other friends whose names I didn't catch. I am quite sure they will forever remember the day those Weird Grown Ups invaded their neighbourhood rink to play shinny with them. Once they got over the initial shock of having to play with girls though, we had a pretty enjoyable time. I even managed to get two goals, despite Jay getting my number pretty early on when he realised that he could make me fall down by yelling in close proximity to my skates. I'm not going to let that happen next time though, so you're going to have to rethink your strategy kidd-o.
Today is Pancake Day here in Canada, also known as Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras. It is the last day one can feel free to indulge before the 40 days of lent.
While in New Orleans they choose to celebrate Mardi Gras with unbridled hedonism and masked balls, for some reason here in Canada we are compelled to mark the occasion by eating breakfast for dinner.
Invariably, since leaving home, I receive a phone call from my dad on the evening of Shrove Tuesday asking if I have eaten my share of shroves. See my last post for an explanation as to why this is considered funny.
After conducting a careful GIS for "shroves", and based on my childhood love of equestrianism, I can only now assume my dad has a twisted sense of humour indeed:
(Image from the Appaloosa Horse Club, UK Ltd.)
So, CoOS lives in a small-ish town called Pembroke. I am actually quite familiar with Pembroke. My family used to have a cottage on the Ottawa river near there, and it was the location of the fabled farm. I actually have an updated picture of the farm on my phone, that I took on one of my first trips to visit CoOS. Remind me to upload it someday...
Anyway, one can only enjoy Pembroke's rustic charm for so long before one gets a minor case of cabin fever and needs to go out and do something. At this time of year, a temperature of -40°C is not unheard of; therefore, "going out and doing something" actually means "going inside somewhere else and doing something". And as you can imagine, on a Saturday night, there's not a lot of somewhere elses to choose from. One must make that decision based on what sort of music one is most prepared to tolerate.
This past Saturday, we decided to take a look at the newest addition to the Pembroke Strip, The Spot. I kind of feel sorry for the owners of The Spot, because I highly doubt it's going to be a money-making venture. The music was unobstrusive enough played a low volume, but unfortunately, The Spot wishes to be a "Disco and Cocktail Lounge", which in Pembroke-speak translates into "throbbing base, ceasars with dill pickles in them, and a VIP section bought at Leon's". Seriously. Two loveseats, each in a bay window area, roped off and reserved for only the most priveleged clientele. On the evening in question, it happened to be us, because there was no one else in the club.
Hoping to at least engage in some decent people watching, we decided to leave The Spot, and head down the road to the Lasso Saloon. Now, when I hear the word saloon, I generally envision spurs, tumbleweed, and Clint Eastwood barging through some double-hinged swinging doors, or a variation thereof. Usually omitted from this fantasy would be any reference to The Trailer Park Boys, vinyl chairs, and teased bangs. Sadly, the latter three elements can be found in abundance at what I can only guess is Pembroke's premiere country bar. But it did make for some fine people watching. I can honestly say that never before have I seen a Bubbles look-a-like in a bar in his felt slippers... and Queen's students wore some funky stuff in the name of fashion in my day. I've also never seen people give themselves over so wholly to the dance before, and to songs with lyrics like these: "The drinking bone's connected to the party bone, the party bone's connected to the staying out all night long. And she won't think it's funny and I'll wind up all alone. And the lonely bone's connected to the drinking bone."
Unfortunately, none of us seemed to have the stamina as our bedenimed friends, and we left while the party was still in full swing at about 12:30 am. But we have the memories... forever emblazoned on our retinas, we have the memories...
My uncle forwarded this link to me, so I thought I'd pass it on to all of you.
Margaret Wente has drawn fire from Newfoundlanders of all types, including the sharp-witted and rapier-tongued Rex Murphy.
"The tradition of slagging off Newfoundlanders has been around for a long time. There has always been a select few that are ready to poke a stick in our collective eye.
In that sense, the column of Margaret Wente last week is but one more installment in a long, sad list of jibes and condescension from the distant centre."
The rest of Mr. Murphy's commentary can be found here.
Incidentally, when one Googles "toutons", my blog comes up as the 3rd search result. Niftay.
Sudan is no longer at the top of the world's priority list.
We were all so quick to donate after the tsunami. Why do we seem to have abundant empathy for people who suffer so cruelly at the hands of mother nature, but not when it is at the hands of their fellow man?
I am currently trying to read Gen. Romeo Dallaire's book, Shake Hands with the Devil. I say "trying", because it's the most emotionally difficult book I've ever picked up. I don't want to be reading a similar book in another 10 years time, but I am afraid I may.
Margaret Wente, a Canadian citizen for 25 of her 55 years, is a columnist for The Globe and Mail. A very opinionated one, it seems. Her biography describes her as having the ability to enlighten and entertain her audiences on a regular basis. Enlighten? Perhaps. But certainly not educate. Born in Chicago, "educated" (she has an English degree) in Michigan, she's recently become a self-appointed authority on Newfoundland history and culture.
On January 6, 2005, the prestigious national paper ran a column penned by Ms. Wente that can only be described as an opinionated anti-Newfoundland rant by an arrogant Torontonian with a misplaced sense of superiority. I unfortunately do not have permission to reproduce her article here, but if you want a copy of it, I would be more than happy to send it to you. What I do have permission to do here though, is publish my response, and by heck, that's just what I am going to do:
Margaret Wente is perhaps the least-qualified person in Canada to comment on the present situation in Newfoundland (Oh Danny Boy -- Pipe Down, Jan. 6). Perhaps before deriding Premier Williams as a deadbeat, she could have done a little research into why Newfoundlanders presently feel the way they do.
Newfoundland does not want to "have it's cake and eat it too". Both it and Nova Scotia simply want to be treated as other provinces (such as Alberta and Quebec), with the right to profit from their own resources. And yes, the offshore oil and gas deposits are their resources, as the Atlantic Accord dictates that they should be treated as though they were land resources. The Atlantic Accord provided that Nova Scotia and Newfoundland would be the prime beneficiaries of those oil and gas revenues. The original division of profits was supposed to be 54% to Ottawa, 46% to the provinces. As it currently stands, the provinces are only left with 14%. How well do you think that would go over in Alberta?
Newfoundlanders do not possess an unmatched sense of victimhood, as Ms. Wente insists. Rather, they possess a fighting spirit and passion that is absent from most of the rest of complacent Canadian society. Ms. Wente would do well to remember that, before she insults anyone else in her adoptive nation.
Sincerely,
Saedigh, Ottawa, ON
The world's largest skating rink is open once more. We went out last night and though the ice surface was pitted in some places, it was a beautiful evening for it. We skated the entire length twice, so that's about 14 km or so (8 and 3/4 miles for my non-metric friends). Of course, the trip was broken up for skate sharpening, hot chocolate, and of course..... beavertails!
Yep. That's right. Canadians eat beavertails. Big, fat, crispy beavertails coated in cinnamon and brown sugar (or garlic butter and cheese for those with more savoury tastes). There's nothing finer on a cold winter day, let me tell you.
Now, before I manage to incite PETA's wrath, let me just explain that I am talking about figurative beaver tails, and not literal beaver tails. We're not savages!
Also, to clarify, we skate on the Rideau Canal, not on the Ottawa River or the Rideau River. It may seem like a semantic difference to people not from O-town, but once you get here (if you ever do, and I would highly recommend that you do) you will realise just how foolish a mistake it is.
The aftermath of a school shooting.
A murder–suicide.
A nightclub stabbing.
A knife fight outside a suburban house party.
For a minute, I thought I was watching the newsfeed from Detroit or Buffalo, but I was wrong. I came home for lunch, warmed up some chili, and turned to channel 3, Global News. All of this happened over the weekend in Toronto. That's right. Canada.
Dude, where's my country?
Apparently, the Nova Scotian city is no more. According to a transcript from the White House spokesman Scott McLellan's briefing to the White House Press Corps, Halifax isn't a city, but a province unto itself:
"Halifax and the other maritime provinces (sic) received nearly 33,000 Americans stranded following the Sept. 11 attacks. This will be an opportunity for the president to personally thank Canadians for helping those Americans who were stranded."
- from The Ottawa Sun's story on the briefing, or rather, the lack thereof.
The president arrives today. He is coming to Ottawa on his first ever official state visit to Canada. You know, once upon a time, Canada was considered The USA's closest ally, and any President worth his salt wouldn't have waited until his second term in office to grace his neighbo(u)r to the north with his presence. But then, this particular president isn't really worth anyone's salt, is he?
As part of his visit, the self-appointed leader of the free world will be taking a trip to Halifax to thank the residents for their compassion and generosity after the 9/11 attacks. Interesting, being that it's been more than 3 years, and any mention of anything Canadians did to aid their Southern friends in the aftermath of that fateful day was conspicuously missing from Bush's speeches. You know, the ones where he touted Great Britain as America's closest ally and friend? There are some who have said that the visit to the maritimes is basically just for the assurance of a polite welcome.
But I digress. The president arrives today, and all of Ottawa is bracing for impact. I sincerely hope that our current Prime Minister is a lot less trigger happy with the tear gas than our former PM was in BC. There will be demonstrations, that's a certainty, just like "it will be cold", because it's the end of November and we're in Ottawa. My only hope is that they are relatively peaceful, and if they do become violent, that they don't overflow into the streets of Vanier because I don't have indoor parking and don't want my car to be totalled. I am sure that most of the protesters will be peaceful, but I don't have faith that individual intelligence can overcome groupthink if the crowd starts to get really worked up.
Tomorrow should be an exciting day though, regardless.
You may have noticed some annoying ads on CBC over the summer: people in coffee shops, or by water coolers, or in cars on long road trips arguing back and forth over who was (is) the Greatest Canadian. You were encouraged to go to the Web site, and nominate your choice for the title.
As annoying as the ads may have been, the idea seemed to capture our imaginations. Over one hundred thousand people sent in nominations ranging from Bryan Adams (incidentally, he was only 10 in the Summer of '69) to Neil Young (apparently no Great Canadians have last names beginning with Z (that's a "Zee" for you Americans)). There were sports heroes (Gordie Howe), Rebels with Causes (Louis Riel), Geeks (Preston Manning), Freaks (Jim Carrey), and people who inspired us to do the best we can with what we have (Terry Fox). But who is really the Greatest? How do we decide who should win? Why do I even care?
Well, the CBC has done the first part for us. They've narrowed the field down to 10, who will be highlighted in hour-long documentaries starting Oct. 18th and finishing Nov. 22. The rest is up to us. We, the people... who kept Jean Chretien in office for so darn long (he made the Top 100 by the way).
Undoubtedly Gretzky will take it all. He is "The Great One" after all. And while Hockey and Canada are used interchangeably in many minds, I think that there are far more important values that Canadians hold dear to their hearts. Universal health care, civil liberties, access to education, the Charter of Rights and Freedoms... surprisingly, I'm not endorsing Pierre Elliot Trudeau. A great Canadian, no doubt, but one whose political ideologies were borrowed from a far greater, more original, more humble Canadian: Tommy Douglas. "The little fellow with an idea." Lots of ideas, to be exact. Universal access to healthcare, regardless of age, gender, physical condition, or race; mothers' allowances; sewage systems; paved roads; education; car insurance; labour reforms; old age pensions. And all that with a balanced budget that actually reduced his province's deficit! Before the Liberals got a hold of them, these were NDP ideas. Socialist ideas. The fruits of the mind of the little fellow in Saskatchewan, all of which were adopted as part of the modern Canadian identity. These values are what we feel set us apart from the rest of the world, and specifically from our neighbo(u)rs to the south. I think it's time we recognised where these values came from. That's why I am going to vote Tommy Douglas for The Greatest Canadian.
In an effort to support their drug habits, Newfoundlanders are turning to the Black Diamond Black Market.
And no, we don't celebrate October Fool's day in Canada. This Is For Real.
The Toronto Film Festival has been getting some heat recently over its decision to air a documentary concerning an animal cruelty case that involved the filming of the live skinning of a pet cat as an "art" project. While the film does not show any footage from the home movie during the course of its 91 minutes, animal rights groups are outraged that festival organizers have chosen to showcase the film at all. One staff member received threats to the effect that he would share in the original cat's fate and have sharp objects embedded in his eyes.
Of course, the media surrounding the controversy has been rife with hyperbole. Some have drawn a parallel between Casuistry and Shoah, saying that a documentary about the holocaust does not glorify the holocaust, and a film about animal cruelty does not justify further acts of cruelty. I can understand the power behind make such a dramatic connection, but it is one I would be hesitant to draw myself.
Personally, I do not think that skinning a cat is art. I would not defend the three students who made the original film, and I do not believe their sentences were weighty enough. But the Toronto film festival is not screening their original film. They are screening a documentary that uses the story of their poor feline victim to investigate why such an atrocious act could occur. Documentaries are meant to open intelligent, reasoned dialogue. Unfortunately, groups like Freedom For Animals are not using this opportunity to engage in rational debate. Instead, they come across as hysterical and whining and ultimately serve to provide the film they so revile with additional free publicity. I guess the air is thin atop the moral high ground.
I'm sorry. It's really hard to take the World Cup of Hockey seriously. Considering the tournament hasn't been played since 1996, shouldn't that tell you something about? Like maybe the fact that no one really cares about it unless there is a lockout looming on the horizon?
Yes, we have established once again that we are the first nation of hockey. But was our victory over Finland really that shocking? Was anyone seriously worried it wouldn't happen? This wasn't the '73 series...the fate of democracy and the free world weren't bounced around in the propaganda mill. The Finns aren't our arch rivals, the way the Americans were in Salt Lake City. We don't feel threatened by the idea of an NHL franchise popping up in Turku; hell, at least they have snow. The drama was missing. Maybe the players are saving it up for their theatrics during the lockout.
