BSW 2.0

In October 2007, my siblings and I decided to have a weekend together -- just us. No spouses or children. It turned out to be one of the best weekends of my life.

Growing up, we were very close and we still are today. However, we all have busy lives and families and we just seem to lose touch a bit.... subsequently, the 'Barth Sibling Weekend' was born and we enjoyed the 2nd annual BSW this past October. (Yay!!) Without a doubt, this has become an annual tradition that the four of us look forward to and are fiercely protective of.

The first time we gathered, we had dinner at a place in Calgary called 'Namskar'. Oh My God. The best East Indian food imaginable. Our waiter was named 'Veer' but Karen insisted on calling him 'Vindaloo' which is actually a dish on the menu. Without a word of a lie, I have never laughed so hard in my life. Never. The entire restaurant was getting a kick out of us and the 4 of us were in tears laughing at each other. There is a flow to our communication and especially to our humour. We just feed off each other and within moments, we can't breathe because we're laughing so hard.

We returned to Namskar this year and had an incredible meal again. We talked and laughed and we had a waiter with AMAZING taste in women. That's all I have to say about that.

This year we went to 2 movies on the Sunday. God, that just felt like such a luxury! In the afternoon we saw 'Religulous' by Bill Maher which was absolutely brilliant, then that evening we saw 'Passchendaele' a Canadian war drama by Paul Gross. A friend of mine worked on the film (Yay Michele!) so I was really excited to see it. Without a doubt, it is an excellent film with a real Canadian feel to it, which I loved.

The BSW 2.0 was again, a success. When I'm with my siblings, I'm just 'Suze'. I'm not a wife, not a mother, not an employment counsellor, not a community member. I'm just..... Suze. And at least once a year, that is something that I really crave. It's good for my soul. My sibs feel the same way. When I talk about this weekend as it approches, I'm always suprised by how many people are shocked that all 4 of us are close. I take it for granted and I shouldn't. What we have is really precious and I'm grateful for it.

Dance-o-rama

I love dancing. Love it. LERVE it. Luff it with 2 'f's.

My first memory of dancing is this; standing on my Dad's feet when I was just wee and being carried around the livingroom this way, likely to Roger Whittaker or Vicki Carr or something really exciting like that. (Shut up, Tana!).

My Mom loved to dance, but I never really had a chance to see it because of her disease. By the time I was old enough to pay attention, she was already having trouble walking. When she danced with my brother at his wedding, she stood on his feet and was carried around the dance floor that way. She was delighted.

When I was young, I took jazz dance. In college, I took classic dance (waltz, rumba, cha-cha). There is no feeling in the world like being in the arms of a man who knows how to dance. At weddings, I seek out any man over 55 who can dance.... not just dance, but really dance. The feel of his right hand on the small of your back, gently directing you, guiding you across the floor. The feel of his left hand, held out, supporting yours. To be moving to the music, in unison.... it's something you can't understand unless you've experienced it. My brother Glen and I dance like this. Two step, polka, jive. There is no one I prefer to dance with in the whole wide world. (Love you, Glennie).

This past weekend I went out dancing, but it was a different kind of dancing. This was the tequila induced shake-your-money-maker kind of dancing with my girlfriends. Now understand, this is completely different from the waltzing, contained dance in the arms of a partner. This is free flow, expressive, laughing dance and is OH, so good for your soul. We danced to 'The Hip Replacements', a Tragically Hip cover band and sat down only long enough to order another shot of tequila. MyBarb drove in for the night, as did my Seeso.

Fun du la fun a la fun.

I'd like to think that if she could have, my Mom would have loved dancing with us like this. Karen and I often ponder whether or not we get our wild streak from Lily and I'm pretty sure that we do.

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To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. ~Agnes De Mille

Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order. ~Samuel Beckett

Socrates learned to dance when he was seventy because he felt that an essential part of himself had been neglected. ~Source Unknown

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing. ~William James

Giving Thanks - Laughing in Blind Bay

*sigh*

I'm in Blind Bay for Thanksgiving weekend with my beloved Barb and our families. The sun is shining, the Fall colours are amazing and I'm in heaven. The first thing Barb and I did once I arrived (literally, within 5 minutes) was grab a bottle of merlot and walk down to the lake to sit on a picnic table in the dark, just talking and laughing. (Thank you David and Len for putting up with us). What a great start to a wonderful weekend.

As I sit here, David ('Houseboy' to Barb, 'Father Nelson' to me....) is whipping up yet another amazing breakfast for us, Len is playing his guitar, the boys are playing Playstation (Guns, violence, blah, blah, blah), the girls are watching Juno ("Your eggo is preggo" LOLOLOL) and Barb and I are laughing which is what we do best. Our husbands have spent most of the weekend rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at us. While they don't understand us entirely, they do know that our friendship is sacred to us both and they support/endure/tolerate it for our sake. Thanks again, boys. We really do appreciate it.

I have much to be thankful for. I won't list all the reasons here because that seems quasi-cheezy, but it's enough to say that I'm a lucky person and I am grateful for it. Blind Bay seems the perfect place to spend Thanksgiving. Barb's Mom, Julie (a.k.a. Nana) came for dinner yesterday and it was a great day on the whole. My kids don't really have involved Grandparents in their lives, and Julie has taken my Brats in as her own Grandbrats. When I told Jack and Bridget that we were coming to Blind Bay for Thanksgiving, one of their first questions was "Is Nana going to be there?" Nana is one more reason that I'm grateful to have Barb in my life.

The upcoming week is going to be batshit crazy. Literally. Breathing and sleeping will be luxuries, honestly. So.... I'm enjoying this weekend even more, knowing what the next few days will bring. Barb and I have been staying up until (at least) 3:00 a.m. each night, partly because we just aren't tired, but partly because I think we want to enjoy every minute that we can. We're like 6 year olds who don't want to go to bed because we might miss something. Last night, we watched part of Texas Chain Saw Massacre; The beginning. We almost threw up. But we also laughed (I know. What a sur-prise). Then we had so pick Sara up at a house on a dark road in the backwoods. We were convinced that a chain saw wielding maniac was going to jump out and kill us... which made us laugh even more. Sara thinks we are completely mental, but she laughs with us (at us?!!!) too. I look forward to Sara joining us in our laughter more and more as she gets older.

So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope your weekend is one full of family, laughter and many reasons to be thankful.

Yay Team!

I work with the most amazing group of people. We work hard, support each other and laugh our asses off on a daily basis.

One of my colleagues popped into my office and started laughing at me today (not an unusual occurrence, I have to admit). She pointed out that my office and the one beside mine couldn't be more different. When you walk into mine, it's high energy, coffee buzz, and usually there is heavy metal music playing. Next door, it's ylang-ylang essential oils, bamboo plants and zen. Here's the best thing; it doesn't matter. That was the next part of our conversation... we talked about how diverse our team was, but how supportive we all are of each other regardless of (because of?) those differences.

There is an amazing ebb and flow to this incredible group. We all have busy lives and families and with that of course, comes all kinds of personal successes and challenges. We have all taken our turn at trying to deal with our careers while navigating personal crises. When one of us is wounded, the others form an unspoken circle of support and we compensate for our friend in need. When one of us has a success, we all celebrate.

We got together the other night to eat appies, drink wine and watch a movie meant for 14 year old boys. We laughed til we snorted and giggled about it the next day. (S... I'm still waitin' for that crab walk, darlin'!). We work hard and we laugh hard.

So, here's to you, my work peeps. I know you all read my blog, loyal friends that you are.... Yes, here's to you -- thanks for making Monday to Friday, 8:30 - 4:30 fun, productive and challenging. Y'all keep me on my toes, make everyday fun and I love you for it! Mwah!

Immortal Beloved

This is Ludwig van Beethoven's Third Letter for his Immortal Beloved. I'm not a romantic woman, not by a long shot. I'm far too practical for that and perhaps even cynical. However... this letter brings me to my knees. Not that I long to feel this, necessarily - more that I'm in awe of his words and his passion. I appreciate it as I would a work of art. I think that this type of longing and angst blossoms in very special circumstances -- a cross country love affair through words, perhaps. A Maverick soul, yearning for his Siren... here it is.

This is The Third Letter, from Ludwig van Beethoven for his Immortal Beloved

"Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved.
Now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us.
I can live only wholly with you or not at all -
Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that
I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits.

Yes, unhappily it must be so.
You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you.
No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never.
Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves.
And yet my life in V is now a wretched life.
Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men.
At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection?
My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day,
therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once.

Be calm.
Only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together.
Be calm... love me - today - yesterday.
What tearful longings for you - you - you - my life, my all - farewell.
Oh, continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

Ever thine
Ever mine
Ever ours."

Politics, Elections and other Nonsensical Stuff

Soooo, we have a Federal Election coming up soon. I tend to be a fairly political creature (which my girlfriend Barb thinks is a DISEASE... she will be fairly disgusted with this post), so all the election buzz got me to thinking about why I find politics so facinating.



I was talking to Connor tonight about it all (he has the same disease, poor wee bugger) and while sharing my views with him, I remembered that growing up, during any federal or provincial election, there were 2 signs on the front lawn. On one side of the sidewalk was a Liberal sign, on the other side of the sidewalk was a Conservative sign. My wonderful Mamma was the liberal. My German Catholic father, no suprise, was the conservative.



I remember being small and feeling very excited that we had 2 signs on our lawn instead of only 1 like everyone else. I also remember being proud of my Mom for having a different opinion from my Dad. I remember feeling very proud of her for being vocal about it.



I don't know how I'm going to vote in this election. I'm having a debate in my head about the wisdom of voting for a party vs. voting for a candidate. I don't know what the answer is to that dilemna, but I'm not crazy about the Conservatives or the Liberals, and I'm also not crazy about our NDP candidate (only met him once, to be fair). Today the Globe and Mail said that the Conservatives are tanking in Quebec and that BC may be their last hope for a majority government. That's enough to knock 'em right off the ballot for me. The Liberals? Well, Stephane Dion seems just a little... well... um.... wimpy. I'll just say it. Like the kid who gets beat up on the playground then has an asthma attack afterwards. Not terribly Prime Ministerial sounding, right?

I think I've just been really spoiled by having a few politician friends who are incredibly genuine and sincere people. My beloved Paulie (of Paul and Linda fame) and my darling Corky (of Corky Evans fame) are two of them. These guys have raised the bar for what I expect from a politician. CRAZY things like sincerity and honesty. Charisma and kindness.

I expect them to give a shit, like Paul and Corky.

The nerve.

Sweet Caroline

Tonight was a tough night.

On January 1 of this year, my friend Caroline died from a brain tumour. She was 49. I had the enormous privilege of knowing her, spending time with her when she was sick, and helping to plan her funeral.

Tonight, I snuggled Caroline's grandson, Landon. He is her first grandchild and he was born only weeks ago. I rocked him in her kitchen and told him all about her which was hard but also beautiful. I held him close to me and in the warmth of her home, and told Landon about his Grandma.....

Caroline had the best laugh ever. She had a beautiful voice and her laugh was a giggle that sounded like chimes tinkling. She was inquisitive and smart. She loved to research alternative medicines and organic foods and was very knowledgeable. She even researched her brain cancer... after she was diagnosed, she sat at my kitchen table and gave my children a biology lesson in brain cancer and told them that she wanted them to learn along with her on this journey. She didn't want them to be scared or sad for 'Aunty Caroline'. She wanted them to be interested and educated. She accepted her diagnosis with grace.

Caroline raised three really amazing children with a partner who adored her. Watching Landon's Mamma nurturing him tonight helped me to see that Caroline's legacy lives on through her children. Caroline loved being a Mother. There is nothing that was more important to her than her family. Caroline would have been an amazing Grandma.

I want to finish this post on a lighter note because Caroline will roll her eyes at me wherever she is if I don't. By the time Katie found out she was pregnant, Caroline was already becoming confused from the cancer in her brain. Didace, her husband, was excited to share the news of Katie's pregnancy with Caroline, knowing how happy it would make her. He sat down on her hospital bed and told her, "Guess what? You're going to be a Grandma....". She processed this for a moment, then lit up and said "That means you're going to be a Dad!"

Caroline had an amazing attitude until the end. She was grateful for the life she lived and the love she experienced while on this earth. She left all who loved her with the gift of acceptance and gratitude and I love her for it. We will all make sure that wee Landon knows just exactly how amazing his Grandma was, and how much she loved just the idea of him.

Barb

I spent this past weekend with Barb who is my best friend in the whole entire universe. I don't know how to begin to define Barb or the friendship that we have, but I'm going to try.

Barb is.... funny. Fucking funny. No one can make me laugh the way she does. We laugh on the phone, at my house, at her house, when one of us is crying, at the mall, out for dinner. You get the idea -- it's pretty much non-stop. My abs hurt everytime I'm with her and somehow, after 23 years of friendship, we don't seem to run out of material.

I met Barb in the summer of 1985 when I went to write my college entrance exams. My Aunt Gay (you will learn about her in an upcoming blog post....) drove me the 3 hours to Calgary and I was fairly terrified. I was only 17 and didn't know a soul at Mount Royal College. After my exams, Aunt Gay and I went to 'The Soup Kettle' to have some lunch. She noticed Barb and told me that she recognized her from the exam room and why didn't I go say hello to her? My eyes almost bugged out of my head. Barb was scary. She was the kind of girl who lipped off teachers, who broke curfew, who SMOKED. In public. I was the kind of girl who was the President of the Student Council, always made it home 5 minutes before curfew and smoked, but only covertly. I didn't want to ruin my wholesome reputation, after all. (This was early evidence of the rebel who lived under that Catholic girl facade....).

That fateful day, I was dressed in nicely pressed blue jeans, a blouse buttoned up conservatively, pink pumps and a ribbon in my hair. No, I'm not kidding. Barb, on the other hand was wearing very tight jeans with high top runners, a t-shirt and jean jacket (cordouroy collar, flipped up, no less) with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a mean squint in her eyes. My Aunt Gay nudged me until I went over to say hello. (Thank you, thank you, thank you Aunt Gay). I don't remember what I said or how the conversation went, but it was the beginning of this amazing friendship.

I am 100% convinced that one of the main reasons I'm strong and capable (and alive) today is because Barb took me under her wing. When I went to college, I was incredibly naive and trusting. I had been raised in a very sheltered manner and Barb saved me from many scary situations and taught me to be street wise. If we were being harrassed by guys in a bar, I would smile and endure it. She would tell them to "Fuck Off!" in no uncertain terms. I was awestruck. She was also very charming and used her natural charisma to get our needs met. I always accepted my course schedule just the way it was handed to me. Barb, not so much. One time, she made me go with her to talk to our faculty adviser so that she could explain that it was impossible for us to have a 9:00 a.m. class on Friday mornings because Thursday night was ladies night at 'The Longhorn' saloon. They changed our class for us. Again, I was awestruck.

Barb is kind. Everyone around her feels accepted and embraced when they are with her. The home she has created is likely the most welcoming, warm place I've ever been. She has a knack for creating spaces throughout her house and yard that make you want to sit and visit and laugh, and people do exactly that. All the time. Anytime I'm there to visit, friends are constantly popping by to say hello and they are always made to feel welcome. This summer, she had 22 people staying there for the August long weekend. She loved every minute of it.

Barb's house is also the place where I go to lick my wounds. When life becomes 'all too much' or I'm going through something difficult, that is where I go. I know that I can stay in my jammies the entire time, crying on the couch if I need too. She knows just what to do and say to support me. She knows when to bring the kleenex, pour the paralyzer, hug me, tell me to suck it up, or make me laugh. She just knows.

This past weekend was one of complete rest and relaxation for me. We watched season 2 of 'Dexter'. We went for a 6 kilometer walk. We drank paralyzers. We slept in her king sized bed with the new fleece sheets. (Fleece!). I made chicken and rice wraps for Sara (Barb's daughter) because it's one of the things I do when I'm there. Jacob (Barb's son) gave me a hug that melted my heart the minute I arrived. We watched 'Wrong Turn 2' and screamed and laughed. Last night at 3:00 a.m., Sara came down to where we were sleeping to tell us that we were laughing too loud which just made us laugh harder. She walked away with a smile, shaking her head at us.

If I could make one wish for Sara, it would be for her to be lucky enough in life to find a friendship like the one I have with her mother.

(Thanks for the fantastic weekend, Barb! Mwah!)

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Update: In true Barb fashion, she made me laugh my head off when I chatted with her about this blog post. She told me that she now knows what her Eulogy will sound like and that she felt like she should be eating a ham and pickle sandwich (the kind you ONLY get at a funeral tea). She also pointed out that she did not have a cigarette hanging out of her mouth at the Soup Kettle and I'm pretty sure she's right. She just didn't sound scary enough without it. I pointed out that this is my blog and I am allowed a bit of artistic license. She said that I was just like James Frey (of 'A Million Little Pieces' fame) and that she was going to report me to Oprah. Do you see why I love her???

9/11 and the genius of Serj Tankian

I didn't want the anniversary of the attacks on the twin towers to go by without some form of recognition on my blog. I remember that day well. I was puttering about, getting my little ones ready for school when the phone rang. A good friend called to tell me to turn my television on because the US was under attack. I did and was as frightened and dumbfounded as everyone else that morning. I didn't know what to do.... should I send the kids to school? Should I keep them home? What was next? In the end, I did send them to school and sat under a blanket watching CNN the entire day feeling sick to my stomach.

I had a discussion with a dear friend today about the state of our world and the imperialistic attitude that seems to prevail, especially from the politicians who reign to the South of us. The conclusion that he and I both came to was that generally, society seems to be moving towards a more kind and gentle state of mind. The same can not be said for the 'right-leaning' politicians who continue to gain power through fear mongering. I was feeling fairly hopeless about it all until my son asked me to sit down and watch a video on youtube with him. Connor and I have been somewhat OBSESSED with the music/poetry from the band System of a Down recently. (A shout out to my peeps at work who put up with me forcing them to watch these videos -- "Isn't he brilliant, Shannon? Isn't he? Put away your Holy Water!") The video that Connor wanted me to see was of a song by the lead singer of SOAD named Serj Tankian. The song is called 'Empty Walls' and is about war, specifically the one currently being fought in Iraq. Serj Tankian is American, but was born in Beruit. He is Armenian and has seen his share of violence. He is a peace activist and a poet. He's brilliant and revolutionary. The song and video are amazing, however the video is disturbing, I'll warn you. Not in a gruesome way, more in a "Holy fuck that gave me goosebumps" way. I personally believe that we all need to have our cage rattled in that way now and then.

I digress. I was about to tell you all about the hope that I had after watching the video with my son. What I found hopeful about the experience was that my 14 year old son was so passionate about the topic. Not just passionate, but thoughtful and reflective too. That gives me hope. At the age of 14, he is politically aware and has strong opinions in that regard. He embraced this video because he understood the message being sent and agreed with it. He and I have discussed the lyrics from most of the SOAD music and have enjoyed very meaningful conversations around them. When I was 14, I was worried about my hair and listened to Wham!.

'Nuff said. Hope.

In case you're interested, here is the video of "Empty Walls' by Serj Tankian on youtube. Google the lyrics. It's important.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgQb6il94_I

(FYI; this link was previously broken. I fixed it, just so you know.)

Pondering My Yonder

The other night I had a friend come over for a visit. When I originally posted this picture on facebook, she told me that she wanted to "Ponder my yonder' from the seat of that tractor. And so we did. It was a cool night with a brilliant, bright moon (Drinking Scotch, I suppose I should say it was a "Braw bricht moon licht nicht") so it seemed completely appropriate that we would drink scotch. I know that sentence makes no sense. It doesn't need to. Now, this was not just any scotch, mind you, but a single malt called 'Balvenie'. My friend Paul (from a previous post called 'Refuge') introduced me to Balvenie. I love Paulie. I think I've mentioned that before. My first bottle of Balvenie was a gift from Paul for my 40th birthday.

My friend put on my pink wig (because she wanted to) and we drank $70 scotch out of pink 'go-cups'. On a tractor. I was in heaven. We sat there for 3 hours, sipping our scotch, laughing and talking about so many heartfelt things. She's going through some 'stuff' right now. I've recently gone through some 'stuff'. One great truth we agreed upon is that people who endure, survive, embrace and conquer their 'stuff' are interesting folks. As a rule, they are more well-rounded, possess more depth and enjoy a certain amout of wisdom that 'stuff-less' people don't seem to have. My friend and I came to the conclusion that we are both grateful for what we've been through. I thought we were going to simply ponder the yonder of the beauty surrounding us. Instead, I pondered my own personal yonder, as did my friend.

Once we decided to go inside, we got off the tractor and stood up. That was our first mistake of the night (maybe the second... depends on how you look at it). While sitting, we both felt all 'glowy' from the Scotch. Once standing, it was evident that we were more than glowy. We were drunk with a capital 'D'. This was a Tuesday night. A Tuesday night with work the next day! (Although I clearly thought it was Wednesday for some reason....). We were in the middle of a field, in the dark and we were not sober. Does this not scream 'Someone is going to fall down'? Well, we didn't. However we did laugh until we snorted and we found a mud puddle accidentally. An evil mud puddle that tried to eat my Croc. We finally made it to the house with very muddy socks but we were quite sure that we'd been fairly respectable and stealthy. Apparently not. My husband told us that he could hear us 200 feet away from the house.

When my uncle saw the tractor picture on facebook, he commented that it reminded him of a William Carlos Williams poem. I will leave you with it:

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens.

-William Carlos Williams-