Censorship

For a while now I have started to realize that the big G is playing big brother. Web searches are not returning results the way they used to. Sitting in your pjs and fuzzy slippers behind a computer screen and doing an random search, you would think you would get results based on the search, not the location of your IP. But the big G has gotten smarter, in all its AI glory. It knows your habits and where you live and narrows down the search results to what it thinks you need to know, not what is out there. If you are lucky and resourceful enough you might accidentally stumble on something new but it will be an accident and good luck getting there on purpose.

Same goes for blogging. You may have something to say but watch that potty mouth. Spell out the word p or the name of its partner and all that will be left of your blog post is the title.

All you might have been trying to say is that the need to p is one of humanity's great commonalities; that the need to do it succeeds the need to kill, maim, engage in strife. But AI is a wonderful thing. It doesn't matter what you have to say, just watch your language.

A hot day with a Zookeeper

This is not going to be a long post because I got stuff to do right now but I did want to let you know that we went to see Zookeeper on Monday and although I would not call it Oscar worthy or anything, I laughed out loud a few times and the little people really got a kick out of it, as well. It's a funny, cute movie and Kevin James never disappoints.

Feel good, benign comedy where no animals got hurt but but one might have gotten a bit drunk.

To see a preview click here.

A Day Out With Thomas

I'm going to share something personal now. I've been so busy with work that family has taken a bit of a backseat for the past year and a half.
Well, things have finally started to settle down and I decided to plan an excursion. The little guy deserves it and so does everybody else. It's been a tough year for us, trying to make it all work.
So, we re-arranged everything and managed to be there for a day I can't imagine not having been there for and then had a bit of a late start but trucked off to St. Thomas for a ride on Thomas the Tank Engine. What fun. Yet another fantastic effort by yet another service club.
There were many little surprises and great memories formed and all of a sudden I resolved that it is time to play mommy again, the way it's meant to be done. So, a birthday (a little belated) was celebrated at a great Chinese buffet (King's Buffet). Hey, if you are ever looking for a great meal around St. Thomas, go there.
The little guy had no idea we'd be singing happy birthday and the look of surprise and watching him clap along with everybody else as the entire place rejoiced in his efforts to blow out the little candle was worth a sixteen hour drive, let alone a two hour one.
We took the scenic route back that drove right past a home with the Ghost Busters station wagon in the drive way. I promise I did the exact right thing and honest to goodness tried to ring the doorbell before taking pictures but nobody was home and surely the thing is in the driveway for that very reason.
Earlier on in the day we took a ride on Thomas, himself. Well, on Thomas' caboose but it was hooked up right to the cheeky little blue engine. The lady who was working that section of the train came complete with a spray bottle to cool off passengers. The heat of the day was enough to fry eggs on the backs of the revelers.
Her name is Shela. I couldn't resist but to ask because the last name was a lot more generic.
Turns out that when her mother had given birth the nurse was either illiterate or had an attitude worthy of the CN Tower and so did Shela's mother. The nurse wanted to know what to put on the birth certificate and Marleen said: "Sheila". The nurse said: "How do you spell that?" and the poor lady, who was too sick to deal with it because she had just given birth (and Shela is not a small lady so she likely wasn't a small baby), says: "She... La!". The belligerent nurse continued to ask "and the mother's name?" to which Marlene answered: "Mar... Leen!"... and that's what she got on the birth certificate.
So now, post 9-11, poor Shela can't travel because her name looks ethnic even though she looks very small town Canadian, and all because the nurse couldn't care less and her mother never bothered checking the paper, just assuming that any person in their right mind would know how to spell 'Sheila.'
Now here is a part of the story that I really couldn't get, at all. To help mitigate some of the damage, our friend Shela went to her lawyer, who spent a ton of time and money drafting a letter that she now has to carry on her person any time she needs to sign an important travel document, etc., saying that she is the same person as Sheila_M so that the diligent and dedicated security staff at the airport will let her get on the plane. However, she still won't travel because she can't be sure if they'll let her back into the country, even with her legally authorized piece of paper.
My poor little head started to spin a bit because I couldn't understand why she couldn't just go and get her name legally changed. In Canada you don't even have to get paperwork done if you don't absolutely want to.
Nice lady, though.
Nice town, too. The train rides through St. Thomas and past an assortment of community centres, parks, and the fronts or backs of seniors residences (there's a whole bunch of them in St. Thomas), and everybody drops what they are doing and waves to all the kids as the train goes by and make sure to not stop waving until every little kid on the train got to feel like a V.I.P. Such fun!
They have a little hay stack maze, magicians, entertainers, Sir Topham Hat, a balloon making clown, and a petting zoo complete with a zebu, a donkey and a yak (also the sheet, goats, geese, etc.). They also have a bubble area where you can dip ropes into soapy buckets for huge bubble fun. All this to make it worth the drive and to keep the kiddies busy while they wait for their turn on a train all decked out to look like Thomas. It's awesome!
So, that's what we did on Sunday. What did you do?

Caterpillar poo

Walking with a 3-year old makes you do strange things. Things you would never imagine doing.

Me? Pick up bugs? With my own bare hands? Are you kidding?

Me? Scooping up dead fish that some kids had scaled and whose eyes they popped out and then put back in the lake to rot and gingerly disposing of it in a nearby garbage? Unthinkable!

But, a little boy is enough to make you swallow any sense of utter disgust just for the sake of a squeal of youthful joy. So, I bravely put my hand on the ground. Willing and ready for the fuzzy little thing to crawl aboard. I was game and ready.

Only problem is that it wasn't! It sniffed and decided that mine was not the hand to travel upon. It dared disobey and started to turn it's head. Now I was determined. I delicately lifted it and placed it on my hand. I was ever so proud and the little guy was delighted.

The caterpillar was not delighted. It curled up into a ball that got ever tighter when the miniature man in the stroller reached to feel the little orange hairs standing on edge with alarm. Then it pooed.

My virgin hand now held much more than a relative of Arabella Miller's favorite pet. A little trail of green slime from the petrified creature that I had disturbed on its way to the other side of the street. I wonder if I tried to pick up a chicken if I would end up with an egg for the same reason.

I probably traumatized the poor thing for the rest of its life. Fly little future butterfly. Fly. I'm sorry to have troubled you...

... well, no. Not really. You're a caterpillar and though you might have been terrified we meant you no harm and made a little person's eyes light up with wonder and joy for a few seconds. So, thanks and have a nice life.

I'm just glad people were watering their lawn not too far away and didn't mind my asking to rinse of my hand.

What to do about a dripping tap in the middle of the night

So, the other day I had a cup of coffee. Okay, I had one yesterday, as well. Can't sleep. Doesn't make it better that sounds of snores and water drips resound throughout the night.

Can't sleep, so I look around. It's dark. Can't see much but instinctively reach for the laptop. It's a make work project. Better than doing something actually useful and feeling proud to have finally accomplished it.

Three hours have passed and the sun is up. Now I can see and still on the laptop but a bit blurry eyed.

Fine. Turning off the laptop and going to do something useful.

Morning, everybody.

How to overcome gay parenting stereotypes

Please forgive this author for attempting to write about this topic despite being neither gay nor professing to own even an inclining as to what a gay parenting stereotype might be. This is why she is perhaps ideally suited to offer advice on the matter. There is only one way to parent a child and that is with love and to bestow on them the best that you have to offer.
A parenting style is unique to each couple. It is the amalgamation of what each has brought in to the relationship. In cases where there is only one parent, it is still the combination of who you were before the child entered your life and the impact of your current relationships, of both the romantic and non-romantic kind.
A person's sexual orientation is just that. Whom you opt to sleep with or be attracted to is a complex formula that has really nothing to do with your child since we are not sexually involved with the child. Nor are we in sexual competition with those that our child may later grow to be attracted to.
So, as Krishanmurti had said, you cannot control what goes on around you, as that is dictated by others. You can only die to them. This is not a physical death. It is a separation between both the good and bad that comes of your interaction with them. You just stop being guided and impacted by judgement. When they can no longer exert an influence on you, you can no longer react to what they say.
This is something like the idea of cyber-bullying. Turn off the computer and you can no longer read the hateful, intimidating messages. All of a sudden there is a healthy ignorance between what they expect you to do and what you feel needs to be done.
What strikes me as most compelling in all of this is that regardless of gay or straight, man or woman, there are so many different types of personalities. A straight couple where the woman is more dominant of the two is just as typical as an over-bearing, perhaps even emotionally abusive male spouse to his demure and long-suffering wife. It is no different from any other collection of individuals who happen to have formed a union.
All of these people, who by hook or crook have managed to become parents must now deal with an additional living soul, perhaps more, in their own right. People are people. The child is a person. Sexual orientation is not what defines a person. It should only define the part of a person that accounts for their carnal lust.

2011 Caledon Butterfly Gala for Wellspring Chinguacousy Cancer Support Centre

The most recent issue of SouthFields Village Voice has a really great article written by the editor and, with their permission. They are really hoping that this event will bring awareness for Wellspring so if you are looking for a good time on a Saturday night (i.e. cirque-tacular performance and duel pianos, an open bar and fabulous buffet by Village Bistro, one of Caledon's finest dining establishments), then I'd say $140 bucks is a really good deal for all that. Plus, money raised goes to support Wellspring and the great work they are doing with people going through cancer and their families.

Check out page 3 of the latest issue of SouthFields Village Voice (www.southfieldsvillagevoice.com) for details.