So here’s the deal on the whole environment thing. I don’t think we really want to fix it. Honestly, I don’t. Our global actions certainly back my theory up.

We’re like those disaster shows. Remember the one about the comet coming and the government builds giant caves underground in the year before the impact to house a few million of the lucky ones? Even Hollywood recognizes we’d rather bury ourselves in the sand then actually do something before it’s too late and if Hollywood knows it then it must be true. We’ll continue to let shit slide until we’ve tipped the balance and there is no longer any possibility of fixing it and then we’ll jump into action. We’ll build caves or public transit into space or some other such ridiculousness.

Basically, I don’t think we’ll do anything until action is the only means left for survival. I think this means we lack forethought. Or we’re just plain stupid.

I’m kind of leaning towards stupid.

It’s a well known fact that people who put up Christmas lights in OCTOBER or NOVEMBER drive me completely batshit crazy.

Having said that….. as of tomorrow, November 20th, I will be done all of my Christmas shopping. Including stocking stuffers.

I know. I’m confusing.

My father comes from a family of ten. They are all fucking batshit crazy and I love every one of them. My Uncle Tim (mid 60’s) is currently in the hospital dying of leukemia and waiting a bone marrow transplant. Given my Uncle’s history and the speed of diagnosis, I have to admit that I am shocked that it isn’t liver/booze related. The saddest thing about it is that of his nine other siblings, only TWO can be tested as possible donors. My father and one of my aunts. No one else is eligible as they have already had one form or another of cancer. It seems to touch our family but never actually go in for the kill. This could be the time.

Ten kids from a crazy hippy pot smoking, booze guzzling family. Somehow it still seems weird that one of them might actually die. A couple of months ago my mother’s brother died (the first of six) So I guess it has begun. I knew it was coming, I just never actually believed it.

$#%@$#^&#&!!!!!!

(That was the sound of my bubble bursting.)

Tonight I shall primp and paint and try to look like someone who spends less than 70% of her life in flannel pajama pants and attend a little wine and cheese gallery event. I will even wear my sexy black boots- the kind that Susin & I use to call “Come fuck me” boots when we saw girls wearing them in high school. Wait. Are “Come fuck me” boots only the ones that go all the way up to your thigh? In that case I’ll be wearing my “How about just a little oral?” boots and maybe even a little perfume.

I like these little soirees. I like wine and cheese and appetizers and clean underwear and lipstick. I do not however usually like the other people that attend. I find pretension extremely irritating and chances are that at least one person will walk in wearing a fucking beret and stand all jaunty like in front of random works and hum and haw about their deeper meaning. They won’t know the deeper meaning- they’re just concerned that they appear to be contemplating it.

I shall do my best to refrain from calling anyone an asshat tonight. I shall also automatically befriend anyone that comes up to me and says “Hey! Those are great come fuck me boots!”

So last night was Halloween and I popped a giant roast in the oven for dinner, settled in with a good book and a glass of wine and waited for the swarm of begging little children to arrive.

I had an enormous vat of candy at the ready as well as a bowl of change for the UNICEF boxes (which I never see anymore but refuse to believe no longer exist) I was feeling rather smug about how much candy I had on hand as this was only the second Halloween in about a decade I’ve lived somewhere that kids will come to. The last one was downtown Vancouver, the West end to be precise. Anyone who knows Van just let out an audible groan and knows that the streets in that area on Halloween are so packed with costumed kids that one has to assume they’re busing them in from other provinces. We were having a cocktail party that night- nothing major, just drinks and appetizers while handing out goodies to the wee ones.

So as the sun dipped down they started coming.

And kept coming.

We ran out of candy shockingly fast and so I raided the wallets of all party guests and anything under $5 was fair game. Then we ran out of money so we started just chucking in random shit from the house. I know for a fact one kid got a set of coasters and another got a tea towel. As I was slipping my well worn copy of Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground into some little kid’s loot bag I knew we were finished. We put a sign on the door and turned up the music so we couldn’t hear the still constant train of kids come up and then go right back down the front stairs.

This year, I was ready. Maybe too ready.

5 kids came by last night.

There are strange things afoot these days and when there are strange days, what do you do? You figure out a way to deal with it, I guess.You try to figure out what is real and what is make believe and then you throw yourself behind what is real.

When you are faced with challenges I think the biggest determination about who you are as a person can be based on how you deal with those challenges. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes a challenge is a deal breaker in a friendship or a working relationship, a marriage or a family, sometimes however, they are not.

Uhmmm. Could I possibly BE more vague? (No, seriously, can I? I’m trying really hard.) Just to be clear- all is well in my world- I love my husband, I love my job (most of the time) and I have a family that I adore. But no matter what you do, every once in a while life throws you a giant curve ball and you have to figure out when to block and when to duck.

Or you’re me and you don’t duck or block. You start trying to get shit done.

Even when it’s scary.

I have been a baaaad blogger. Really though, I had a great excuse… You know, the whole honeymoon thing…. (wait- if we stay some of the trip in his parent’s house and some of the time in his sister’s caravan after nights of too many beers does it really count as a “honeymoon????”)

Steve stayed an extra week and is home tomorrow. Guess I have to ask the diving team camped out in the living room to leave. Sigh. Such a shame.

Now that I have officially changed my name I have inherited a very lovely 18 year old step daughter and a whole host of other family that were welcoming beyond belief. (Special mention for the superfantastic sister in law Cheri who smokes all of my cigarettes while I drink all of her beer. We are truly a match made in heaven.)

Yes, the trip was spectacular and once I finish busying myself with all of this married person stuff like ironing tea towels and ordering china, we shall resume our regularly scheduled programing.

(Ok, let’s be honest, if there really was ironing involved I totally wouldn’t have married him.)

Update….. Just heard that there is ironing involved. May have to rethink this.

To say it was a good trip would be a colossal understatement. Love it, love them, love love love.