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May a brilliant man rest in peace. I’ve been a Mac user since our first computer in 1995, a Powermac 7200 and have never had any other computer but a Mac before or since. Design, aesthetics and efficiency all in one package, breathtakingly simple yet always sophisticated. If the world worked the way a Mac did, we would not be in this mess.
The other day, Daniel called me to the window that has a view of our deck. Michael and Alec were re-staining it and listening to music while Mia was off to the side, dancing and singing. She was dressed in a white blouse and white shorts, barefoot, hair uncombed, skin very brown from swimming, and she was singing and dancing and twirling her heart out, completely unaware that she had an audience upstairs.
Daniel told me she’d been doing that for the past 10 minutes. We both watched her sashaying, hands on her hips, doing moves she must have learned from TV. We smiled at each other, then Daniel went back to his computer. I stayed to watch a bit more, and felt such a wave of emotion and love for her. As she sang she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky. She was so perfect and innocent and beautiful.
I was already struggling with the lump forming in my throat when “Dancing Queen” by Abba played. That did it. The floods of tears came as I watched my pure, sweet girl dance and sing without a care in the world.
We risk so much when we become parents. We feel emotions that we never even knew existed. I find myself having to change my mind or get busy with something else during these moments because if I stay there, I’m bound to have my heart in knots every time. So I did just that, I tore myself away from the window and hurriedly went to clean the bathroom.
I was never one of those parents who had a hard time seeing their kids start school for the first time or who followed the bus in their car. Perhaps because I was quite young (23) when I had Nicholas, I was in fact happy and excited for him with each new milestone, imagining myself in his place and the excitement I felt at each new adventure. It’s still like that today. For Nicholas’s 18th birthday, Daniel and I took him out for dinner and gave him a round trip bus ticket to New York (and our permission to go). While Daniel was very quiet, his eyes looking suspiciously bright throughout the meal (especially when Nicholas opened his card and gasped in surprise), I was thrilled for my firstborn, remembering how I loved to walk the streets of New York when I was 18.
Maybe it’s because they are boys but I feel much the same with my other sons, although when Alec turned 10 two weeks ago I did feel pangs of nostalgia that my baby boy with the red thatch of hair on his forehead was now this muscular and strong athlete. And as soon-to-be 14 year old Michael grows up to be a young man any parent would be proud of with his kindness and thoughtful ways, I think back on him as a fat little Buddha of a toddler and feel like it was just yesterday. Yet I see myself as not overly sentimental in the least.
So nothing has prepared me for my reaction to Mia encountering the same milestones her brothers have. One would think, been there, done that. Not so. Watching her get on the school bus for kindergarten last September was so traumatizing for me that after the first morning of bravely smiling and waving on my end, I let Daniel handle that for the next few months as seeing the bus drive away with her was too difficult. Months later, when I ventured to do it again, nothing had changed.
it is her 6th birthday today and so here I am thinking of her singing and dancing to “Dancing Queen” and writing about it. Time for another tissue!
Yesterday was the perfect end to a busy week. We slept in, went to church, then had raisin bread fresh from the bakery and fruit for brunch. In the afternoon we ran errands with the kids, going first to the toy store so Mia could spend her birthday money from her grandparents. She bought these Little Pets toys and it was a real treat to see her so happy.
Alec also spent his birthday money (both are July) from his grandparents and godmother on an iHome. Afterwards we went to the pet store so Michael could get another hamster cage. A few weeks ago he accidentally left his cage open in the basement and both of his Dwarf hamsters escaped. Sadly one ended up floating in the hole for the septic tank. The other one made his way back to the cage but in the days that followed he seemed so lonely, so Michael bought another one to keep him company. Big mistake as they both ended up trying to kill each other! Normally Dwarf hamsters are the only kinds that can live together peacefully but only if they’re brothers or something like that.
Michael kept trying to make them become friends but they kept attacking each other and drawing blood. So instead he and Alec decided they’d buy another cage and share the second hamster (all this is with their savings).
Then we stopped by the library and browsed. I think the public library is the single greatest institution in the world. Ever. In it, everyone is equal and has the same access and privileges. It doesn’t matter your race or what class you are in society – when we go to the library, we are all the same. I didn’t grow up with one (in the Philippines there are none) and when I first moved to Virginia and went into the huge George Mason library, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Since then, everywhere I’ve moved, one of the first places I go to is the public library to get my membership card.
We borrowed DVDs (Toopie and Beanoo, Son of Rambow, Midsommer Murders and Where the Red Fern Grows). Michael and Alec got some bande-dessinées, Daniel a murder mystery by Caroline Graham and I borrowed “Good Omens” by Terry Prachett and Neil Gaiman. We normally borrow a lot more but because we tend to have late fees I limited it to one book and 1 DVD each! I am guilty of juggling 3 or 4 books at once but am trying to get in to the habit of finishing one at a time before going for more.
Groceries were next, then back home for a supper of greens, potato salad, shrimp and pizza and ice cream for dessert. A relaxing evening after a relaxing and fun day.
I love you, Pointe Claire library!
Saturday night my 18-year old son Nicholas and I went to see U2 in concert. We had general admission seats so we had to make our way to the Hippodrome early (joining 80,000 other fans). Nicholas had already spent the night downtown at a friend’s place and I was to meet up with them (her mother is also a friend of mine). I left the house at 3 pm and drove to the nearest metro. It was pretty funny how the metro was filled with all these white middle-aged suburban types, women with blond highlights and jewelry and men with Lacoste shirts who looked like they’d be more comfortable in their SUVs and who had probably not set foot in a metro since they were in University. But we were all advised to take the metro because of traffic problems. I probably blended in more with my shorts and converse sneakers. I wanted to wear my Smiths “Meat is Murder” t-shirt but figured I would be too hot and Bono would never see it anyway so I wore a light sleeveless blouse instead.
A sea of people was making the trek, like a mass pilgrimage to worship at the altar of U2. I met up with my friend and we tried to find our kids. Eventually I ended up finding Nicholas by way of cellphones and plastic water bottles waved frantically in the air. We were pretty close to the stage, as you can see from the picture. Although it was standing room only I lay down my poncho so we could sit for a bit among a forest of legs as it was 7 pm and I’d been on my feet for a while.
The opening act, a band called Interpol, performed. The lead singer was morose, and the keyboard player whom I suspect was his brother was even glummer. Here’s a word of advice for those in a band: If the audience shows more enthusiasm being at your show than you, you shouldn’t be performing. The guitarist was strutting around, the drummer was intense, but the keyboard player looked so bored I was actually offended. And even though it was probably nerves instead of boredom, next time try to crack a smile or something.
Then U2 came on and as usual were generous and passionate in their performance. Bono charmed the Montreal crowd by speaking French several times. There is something about the way he moves, sings, acts that makes you feel he is communicating solely with you instead of a crowd of tens of thousands of people. I can’t put my finger on it but it’s a trait he has in overwhelming quantities. It’s strange because he has sunglasses so you never see his eyes, he writhes around, a white man who can’t dance, but throughout it all he has this joyful, explosive energy and sings as though if he didn’t his heart would burst. U2 have their share of critics and sometimes their earnestness can be a bit uncomfortable but despite it all I think their hearts are in the right place. And I have always loved their music since I was 13 and first heard “Sunday Bloody Sunday”.
What was slightly annoying was while Nicholas and I were singing our lungs out at every song and dancing as much as we could in the crowd, in front of us were people who just stood there, not moving. Why take up that precious space near the stage if you’re not going to add to the energy level of the moment? Afterward we regretted not pushing our way through to the edge of the stage.
The concert ended at midnight and we did not get home till 2 am!
Bono - so close yet still so far
People, if you can't get your arms up while the Edge is doing a solo, don't stay at the front next time!
On CBC radio right now is the program “Q” with Jian Ghomeshi which was taped in Montreal (our home town) last night. We’ve been listening to this program about arts and culture since Day 1 and we love it. It’s a perfect blend of intellect and entertainment and fun.
Jian gained notoriety from an interview with Billy Bob Thornton when the clueless and spoiled celebrity basically acted like a bratty 2-year old. Jian was a professional all throughout and was admired the world over for how he handled it. I’m honestly very happy this show has grown so much in stature and is now even on NPR in the States.
Happy New Year, everyone! I’ve heard it’s easier to keep your resolutions when you start small, implement them one at a time and do them for 21 days straight (the length of time they say it takes for actual habits to kick in). So instead of making grand promises in the past of daily exercise and yoga (only to fail miserably), here is my first resolution:
1. Drink 6 glasses of water and a multivitamin everyday.
Sounds simple doesn’t it? I’ll get back to you at the end of the month to see if I’ve actually managed to keep and make this one a habit. Then in February, resolution no. 2!
Monday at lunchtime I started to experience a strange bitter metallic taste in my mouth when I ate. It didn’t matter what I was eating or drinking – water, bread, coffee, fruit – all seemed to have a pretty bad aftertaste. I was really busy that day and didn’t think anything of it until dinner.
We had the pot roast that had been in the slow cooker all day, a beautiful hunk of meat simmering in a bed of carrots, potatoes, celery and onions. I carved it to serve and heaped everyone’s plate with that and fluffy white rice. Then I tasted it – blechh! It was bitter and left a strange aftertaste. At first I thought it was the meat and that I had done a bad job in the seasoning, but everyone else finished their plates, and even had seconds. Clearly everyone was enjoying the dinner but me. I still thought they were either just really hungry or trying to spare my feelings.
The next day, breakfast tasted the same – metallic and bitter. And lunch as well. I was baffled. I googled my symptoms and realized that it was because last Saturday night I had eaten pizza topped with spinach and pine nuts! I am not kidding. Check out these links:
http://www.healthnutforlife.org/2010/05/random-acts-of-health-bitter-tongue-aka.html
http://www.epicurious.com/articlesguides/blogs/editor/2009/05/got-pine-mouth.html
It seems there are pine nuts from China that have a history of giving people that bad metallic taste. Not everyone is affected, and some have it for a few days and some for weeks.
It was so random – who knew?? I tried to find a cure. Last night Daniel made me some ginger tea and that seemed to lessen the bitter flavor somewhat. At least today I was able to eat my tomato sandwich, although there was still some aftertaste which I hope goes away soon. (It seems like this would be a great way to go on a diet, though.)
I think what I am most relieved about was that the pot roast I made apparently really was delicious and that I am not a horrible cook!
I just finished reading a Berenstain Bears book to Mia. It is about the Bear family forgetting their manners. As usual, the mother bear is perfect and the father bear’s behavior is just as bad as the kids’. The mother bear has to draw some kind of chart to make sure everyone remembers their manners and talks in a preachy, sanctimonious “I am always right” voice.
We’re surrounded by this kind of thing in commercials and tv shows. The mom is always the grown-up in the family, thin and pretty with perfect make-up, coiffed hair and no stains on her clothes. She is always married to a fat, clueless guy who looks like Jim Belushi. She sighs and pouts and rolls her eyes at her husband’s stupidity although he is so lovable she obviously loves him. In various commercials she smiles indulgently at her kids when they make a huge mess or eat too much junk food, and she cleans up after the dumb husband who can’t figure out how to work a mop.
Even if the Berenstain mother bear is neither thin nor pretty, the point is she’s always the one who has no flaws while the father bear can get away with acting like an idiot. In the books she is always wearing a pained expression of martyrdom.
I really dislike this representation of women in our society. I know it’s light years better than how it used to be, especially the 1950s when women were portrayed as vacuous and shallow and weak, with minimal interests. But these days, the modern woman is shown as TOO perfect and there is a huge pressure that goes with that.
That’s why I love female tv characters like Elaine in “Seinfeld”. She could have been written as the boring voice of reason but she was just as depraved of morals as the guys were.
In “Ben”, it’s true that Olivia falls into the straight man (woman) role to serve as a foil for Ben. But she also has her moments. And more importantly, when it comes to Patty and Nathan, Patty is the more comical, insecure one and Nathan is the boring straight man. Patty has stains on her clothes, loses her temper, is emotional, and has a hard time dealing with laundry. She’s by no means the perfect mom, but then again, who is? No one – except on TV.
Last night after Mia went to bed, we watched Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” with the boys. Daniel is a big Hitchcock fan and since I was a teenager I’ve loved old movies so this was one of the things we had in common when we met. We’ve been showing the kids stuff like Chaplin’s “The Great Dictator”, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, “The Sound of Music” and of course the great “Singing in the Rain”. This is to try and expunge utter garbage like Transformers 2 from their brains.
In their film education we’ve included movies from all eras and genres. Of course we still get current films like the brilliant “Where the Wild Things Are” (watch this if you haven’t already) and “Bridge to Terabithia”. But we’ve also shown them “The Karate Kid”, “The Goonies”, “Ghostbusters”, “The Thing”, “Young Sherlock Holmes”, “Oliver!”, “Howl’s Moving Castle” and “Jaws”.
Every time we come home from the library with a selection, they complain about our choices.
“Back to the Future? What kind of weird movie is that? Who is that creepy kid with the car?”
“Spirited Away? That looks really weird. Why couldn’t you just borrow “Over the Hedge”?”
“The Good the Bad and the Ugly? That’s a weird title. Do we have to see this?”
“Empire of the Sun? What are you talking about? That kid doesn’t look anything like the guy in Dark Night.”
It’s almost a game we play, a ritual, for them to complain and pretend they aren’t interested in our selection, and then to grudgingly sit and watch. In the end we’ve never borrowed anything they haven’t enjoyed. And last night was no different. Happily they have not been jaded by special effects and CGI and 3D and were awed by the film. 9 year old Alec’s verdict? “Did you think we wouldn’t like this? That was EXCELLENT!”
Three weeks post knee surgery and still on crutches. It’s taking longer than I thought but my physiotherapist (Daphne) assures me I am right on track and that my progress is actually good. I’ve been given exercises to do and I have to ice and elevate my knee for half an hour three times a day, which has been pretty challenging with my busy schedule at home.
It’s pretty embarrassing having Daphne work on my leg. Ever since the surgery I haven’t been able to bend or stretch enough to comfortably shave or put lotion on my legs. They are looking pretty scary. Even my toes have nail polish from over a month ago that is faded and neglected. No one mentions this part of the aftermath of surgery! I’m sure she’s seen everything and has had to massage her share of hairy legs (from men, to boot) but it is still quite embarrassing.
Probably the nicest thing about all this is that Daniel has been driving me twice a week to the hospital for my physiotherapy. Right after the the last of the kids leaves on the school bus, we make the 45 minute trip. He double parks in front of the doors and helps me out of the car, then while I’m at physio he sits in the waiting room and reads the paper. After my session, on our way back home, we run errands and we sometimes go out to eat. Doesn’t it sound like something seniors do – drive each other to the doctor, wait, and then go to a restaurant after?
Last week we had lunch at an Italian restaurant on the Lachine canal. It was a gorgeous day and we sat outside and it felt like a real date. He must have read my wish list (see previous blog entry!).
On Tuesday I see my surgeon and he’ll likely clear me to drive myself so that will be the end of our little trips. I’m almost sad thinking about it.
