Category: Uncategorized

So, as mentioned previously, I am undergoing somewhat of a metamorphosis now that I’m turning 40. The navel piercing was two weeks ago, and this week it’s the eyes.
I have worn glasses, and later contacts, since I was a teenager. I’ve never actively hated having to wear glasses, partly because half my family, including my husband, wears glasses, and I work in a college, which means that a significant number of my colleagues are bespectacled.
I have wondered about laser eye surgery for a while now, and decided about a month ago that as long as I was doing all this other stuff to my body, why not take a closer look (NPI) into the procedure. Added motivation included helping a friend choose a pair of truly lovely new frames, which, with her prescription lenses, cost her about $700, and scuba diving – you can get scuba masks with prescription lenses, for $$$, or you can get a regular mask and hope that you never lose a contact lens. They’re hard enough to find when you drop one on the bathroom floor. Imagine trying to spot one on the ocean floor, under 45 feet of water.
I went in for my free consultation last week at LASIK MD (I might as well give them the endorsement). They put my eyes through a series of tests, including one that looked like it was inspired by Dr. Evil’s time machine (and when I mentioned this the clinician squealed and thanked me, because no one else ever knows what she’s blathering about if she mentions it). The end result was that I was an “ideal” candidate for LASIK (it’s the name of the procedure as well as the company).
So yesterday morning, I went in for my final pre-op check, got the all clear (again, NPI) and had my zyoptix LASIK surgery at the hands of the lovely and talented Dr. Dagher (unlike Kit Marlowe, this was a welcome Dagher in the eye).
This morning, I went for my one-day post-op check-up and hyphen extravaganza- right now I have 20/20 vision and it can only get better as my eyes continue to heal.
My only regret is that I didn’t do this ten years and several pairs of glasses and contacts ago.
The procedure itself took about two minutes. I was concerned that I’d freak out watching a laser beam headed for my eye, but in fact it looks a lot like those red dots you have to stare at when you’re getting your eyes tested. It didn’t hurt, or sting or anything. There was some noise, but as someone who hates the dentist cacaphony, this was nothing.
I dozed for most yesterday afternoon, listening to a book I had pre-loaded onto my MP3 player (no books or computers for 24 hours). Heidi thought it was the best day ever, and is a little disappointed to discover today that I haven’t been converted to the cat way of life. I administered three different kinds of eye drops every couple of hours – that continues, every 5-6 hours now, for the rest of this week, then I’m free to ditch the meds and just continue with artificial tears as needed.
So far, my eyes are still great. I was worried that I’d feel like I had a pair of old contacts or bad allergies, since those are apparently frequently reported aftereffects, but my eyes feel fine. I suspect I am one of the ‘results may vary’ cases – no itching, no blurriness, no redness – and I can see perfectly. There were two other women at the clinic this morning who had their surgeries yesterday as well, and the one that I spoke to said her vision was still pretty blurry and she was very teary, which I think is probably the more common post-op status.
Anyway, bottom line is that I am 100% satisfied with LASIK MD, and if you too have wondered about it, I hope my story helps. Feel free to ask questions! I also found the LASIK MD website really useful, and comprehensive, so if you have technical questions, you can try there, too.

1969. The moon landing. Midnight Cowboy. Led Zeppelin I. The maiden flight of the Boeing 747. The election of Golda Meir.
Also, I was born.
Which, for those of you too lazy to do the math, means that I am turning 40 this year. The big 4-oh.
Now, popular culture, despite Erica Jong, seems determined to regard 40 as the threshold between youth and middle age – which, let’s face it, really means old. In my circle of friends, most people seem to have dealt with the idea of forty pretty well, with the exception of one friend who’s been celebrating his 29th birthday for 15 years as of April, and one other friend whose issues cannot be addressed here, but suffice it to say, they’re big issues.
How am I dealing with forty?
Last August, I got a tattoo. My first. On Good Friday, I got my nose pierced. My first piercing (aside from my ear lobes, which are conventional piercings for most women in our culture). This afternoon, I’m planning to have my navel pierced. Next week, I have consultation to discuss laser eye surgery.
Some might argue that these are the actions of a woman in denial, or of a woman desperately trying to hang onto her youth. In fact, some have already made those arguments. Who knows, maybe some psychiatrist out there will confirm this diagnosis.
My counter-argument is that I love the idea of forty. I have wanted a tattoo since I was a teenager, but managed to talk myself out of it for over twenty years because I was afraid I would get to a certain point in my adult life and seriously regret it. I have always liked the idea of a nose stud, but talked myself out of it because I was convinced my nose was too big. I talked myself out of a navel piercing because I don’t have washboard abs. I talked myself out of laser eye correction because I was afraid it was too risky.
You know what? I love my tattoo. I love my nose stud. So why not the other stuff?
Sure, my nose is big – but I love how it looks with my little diamond. I like my nose more now. So I figure I may not have perfect abs, but I bet my tummy will look just fine with a bit of bling.
I am not afraid of 40. I love 40. Forty means I can relax and say “I don’t care whether or not you think this is a good idea.”
I am in a great place in my life. I have a job that I love, and colleagues that respect my work. I have a great husband who more than appreciates me. I have two great kids – one of whom starts high school this fall. I have a great house, and while it’s hardly ever clean, it’s cozy and feels like home. I may not be model material, but I’m in pretty good shape and pretty comfortable with those bits of me that are in different shapes. I have good friends, and good family.
Forty rocks.

So another month, more or less, has passed, and all my good intentions to blog more regularly, both here and over at the Communal Kitchen (which, in passing, I almost always start to type as the “Communical Kitchen”), have paved the way to an appalling lack of activity.
I maintain that this is a direct effect of having far too many other commitments (see previous post) and being clearly overdependent on sleep. I am working on both.
We’re past the mid-point of the semester, and although there’s some confusion over my workload, it looks unlikely that I’ll have to teach this summer, which is a relief. My e-learning project is a little stressful, and deadlines come and go with horrible inevitability, but I’m coping.
Thankfully, I did find a way to destress, at least for a week. As previously mentioned, I harangued Dr. T into taking me away from it all, and with the help of the World’s Greatest Mother-in-Law ™ as a babysitter, we jetted off to Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic, for a week in the sun. While we were there, we did our four open water certification dives for our SCUBA licenses, as well as three more dives as licensed divers, and that underwater camera came in handy!

(see the whole set here)
When we weren’t 40 feet underwater, we were revelling in the 5-star treatment of our all-inclusive resort: eating well, enjoying great Spanish riojas, lounging in the sun, snorkeling along the beach, reading, and sleeping. The weather was fantastic the whole week – warm, but with a pretty good ocean breeze keeping things comfortable, and sunny. The only significant rain started literally as we were getting into the shuttle to return to the airport (granted, that rain was significant enough to close the airport for a brief period later, when we were already trapped in the plane).
We didn’t spend a lot of time lounging, and in fact we really didn’t get to know any of our fellow guests, but we had a great time with our dive masters, and our package tour rep, Tony, is either really, really good at his job or he genuinely liked us, but either way, he made us feel all warm and fuzzy.
Best of all, we discovered that scuba was everything we imagined and hoped. We loved swimming with the fishes, and there’s a surreal, otherworldly feeling you get when you’re floating over a coral reef – like you’re flying over mountains, in a way. Sound is completely different, too… there’s a very meditative flow to everything down there.
I miss it already, of course… we got home late Saturday night, and I spent Sunday in the laundry room, then walked outside Monday morning to go back to work, only to discover that it was -11 C. -17 with the windchill. Sigh.

Ok, it’s been a while. Why? Well…
– school started. Technically, it had started when I last posted, but only just. Now it’s real, and I actually have to, like, work, and stuff.
– other school started, that is, the one in which I am a student. I’m in the last phase of the M.Ed. now, and again, this apparently demands effort and focus. Honestly, what was I thinking?
– other other school started, that is, the one for which I am designing an on-line course, etc., etc. (yes, there is a pattern here).
– Dr. T and I took an intensive SCUBA course, because we’re determined (read, I am determined, and he is tolerant) to go somewhere hot and sunny and beachy next month, without the boys, and for some reason I decided that this, too, had to be a learning experience. So we’re learning how to breathe underwater.
In preparation for this new venture, I have splurged on a new camera, a Canon G10, which came with an underwater housing so I can take pictures of blurry fins as the sea creatures flash past. While I wait for the hot sunny beachy place, I have, naturally, been trying this puppy out. Enjoy.

On a Tuesday morning in mid-December, Dr. T rushed the kids out the door – we were, as usual, running late – and into the car.
Except the car was not there.
We don’t have a driveway or a garage, so our car gets parked on the street in front of our house, except on the two mornings a week that parking isn’t allowed, when we park around the corner.
This was not a restricted morning. Nor was there any snow clearing planned. In fact, our neighbours’ cars were parked, as usual, in the spaces behind and in front of our car – or the now-open space where our car had been.
We spent a few puzzled minutes asking each other if we’d absent-mindedly parked around the corner, or gone to the grocery store by car but walked home, or lost the car in a bad poker game…
None of the above. This was grand theft our car. Our nice, new, wonderful car.
We bought (more specifically leased) this car in April. Our last two cars were Corollas, which were fine, but not great, and although Dr. T would have happily kept our 2004 Corolla, I was not really comfortable driving it, and we’re now a one-car family, since the death of my deal-of-the-century Subaru. Last Christmas, we talked about our options, and in the spring, on the advice of my dad (who owns more cars that one person can possibly drive, and is currently in the process of building another one), we test-drove the Saturn Astra. I called my dad:
Me: We drove the Astra.
Dad: Hmph.
Me: We like it a lot – feels good, drives great…
Dad: Hmph.
Me: So we think we’re going to get one. Thanks for the tip!
Dad: Try an Impreza.
Me: What?
Dad: Don’t buy anything until you’ve tried the new Impreza.
Me: Hmph.
Fine. So we test-drove the Impreza. And, of course, we fell in love. I called my dad again:
Me: We drove the Impreza.
Dad: Hmph.
Me: We like it a lot – feels good, drives great…
Dad: Hmph.
Me: So we think we’re going to get one. Thanks for the tip!
Dad: Try a Honda.
Me: Hmph.
We did not try a Honda, and we stopped calling my dad. Instead, we signed on the dotted line and drove home in our new AWD Impreza hatchback (although now car dealers call them “5-doors” for some reason).
I managed to resist the urge to sucker-punch my dad when he looked at the car, grunted, and told us it looked like a Mazda.
When the snow started falling this winter, we discovered just how great our car was – no shovelling required! We felt safe driving in the snow and slush.
But then, that fateful morning, no car. Car gone. Nine days before Christmas.
Fast-forward a month, and everything’s settled – the car is probably on the other side of the planet now, and our insurance people took care of everything, and given that this happened over the holidays, everything went pretty quickly, and on Thursday, I drove home in our new Impreza hatchback.
We decided to take advantage of our do-over, and opted for the sports package, which meant our lovely blue was no longer an option, but we’ve got a few extras we didn’t have the first time around, including fog lights, a sunroof, wiper de-icers, 6-disk CD players with extra speakers and satellite radio, and audio controls on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.
Best of all, we now have heated seats. Since the temperature over the last few days has hovered around -25 (so far, 19 major water mains have burst on the island of Montreal. it’s cold), heated seats are a good thing. Nothing beats warm buns on a cold day.
Yesterday, I took our new bun-warmer to a local garage and had a GPS-tracking anti-theft system installed. Keep your fingers crossed.

So I was brushing my teeth this morning, and reading the toothpaste tube, since there’s not a whole lot of intellectual stimulation to be gleaned from the brushing itself. The tube in question is a stand-up model, so I assume the marketers were referring to the packaging when the stuck a big friendly circle on the cap that trumpets “CLEAN! EASY TO USE!”
This is a big relief, because until now my relationship with toothpaste has been, sadly, dirty and complicated.

I hate head colds.
I can deal with the flu – sure, there’s a lot of running to the bathroom and some messiness, but it doesn’t usually last long and people are sympathetic. I can handle a chest cold – less messy than the flu, and as an ex-smoker, I’m not all that bothered by the hacking cough.
Head colds SUCK.
I cannot breathe. I spend my days panting like an asthmatic puppy. Wearing my glasses hurts. Blowing my nose hurts. My lips are chapped from all the mouth-breathing. The only way I can sleep is by taking megadoses of Dristan orally AND nasally, with a NeoCitran chaser – which works great in terms of clearing the passages so I don’t suffocate overnight, but leaves my throat and mouth dryer than Stephen Wright’s wit.
At least the flu takes off a few pounds – I think I have gained a few, just from the added weight of all the crap in my sinuses. Seriously, how is this stuff manufactured? What are the raw materials? Was this stuff always in my head, just waiting for an opportune moment to morph into more goop than technically fits in my head?
Blargh. Sniffle. Whimper.

I’m already stuffed, and it’s not even turkey day yet.
We’re safely ensconced chez Mum for the holidays, having braved rain and snow to get here. Thanks to the miserable bastards who stole our car last week, we braved the elements in a rented Corolla, rather than our beautiful all-wheel drive Subaru.
We’re in the rental for at least another three weeks, unless of course our car turns up somewhere, but apparently that’s not likely. At this point I really hope it’s really gone, because to get it back now means dealing with whatever mess has been perpetrated upon it. If it’s really gone for good, we can get on with our lives and into a new Subaru, perhaps with heated seats this time.
House-wise, we’re finally at the end of the latest renovation phase – there are during and after pix on my flickr page, so you can see just how entirely awesome our new bathroom is. We’ve also discovered that the disadvantage to having a finished basement is that the pipes are now aesthetically hidden away inside the walls, rather than exposed to the ambient air, and therefore much more likely to freeze. Which is why they have. Twice.
Given that the pipes have never – in thirteen years – frozen before, we assume there’s a connection.
So temporarily, there’s a tap running, and a thermal wire attached, and a gaping ventilation hole in the new aesthetic wall.
But, when all is said and done, burst pipes and stolen cars notwithstanding, things could be a lot worse. The fact is, the last couple of weeks have been filled with happy holiday gatherings of friends and family. I’ve wrapped up yet another semester, and after almost four years at this college, I still love my job and my colleagues and my students. My kids are growing and reading and brilliant, and, well, life is good.
At the risk of sounding all sappy and Capra-esque, I love this time of year – and although I suspect that Santa won’t bring me the tropical vacation I put on my list, I am looking forward to tomorrow, with presents and kids and family and food and drink.
I know that we’re really very lucky, and tomorrow is one of those days when we get to revel in it – I hope that you’re all reveling too.
Happy holidays.

Today, Dr. T and two of his colleagues Shaved to Save. The company matched their fundraising efforts dollar-for-dollar, and every penny goes to fund breast cancer research.

In other news, we’re right in the middle of another renovation, which means my home office is useless, and my blogging motivation has lagged as a result. I am taking pictures as the project moves forward, so eventually the whole saga will be posted.
Meanwhile, back to the correcting!

Throughout history, people have written things down because it was important and crucial to do it. But one has to ask themselves, what kind of things were they writing down? In this post, we will examine closely this question.
Firstival**, there is many different ways to write things down. Pen, pencil, computer, to name a few. Back in the day, people didn’t have computers and sometimes pens, so they were forced to write on walls or parchment. According to the American Heritage Dictionary, parchment is “The skin of a sheep or goat prepared as a material on which to write or paint.” This quote clearly shows that there is many ways to write things down.
Secondly, as I have already mentioned, what kind of things were they writing down? Clearly this is a very important and crucial question to ask, because of it’s answer. George Orwell, the famous author, stated that people wrote for four reasons. The first reason people write is that they are egomaniacs. “Sheer egoism.” As Orwell’s quote shows, people write because of their egos. Also sometimes people write because its beautiful, or because its history or political purpose.
In conclusion, this is a difficult question: why do people write? As we have seen, sometimes they write on parchment, and sometimes they write for four reasons. Whatever the reason, people write, and will continue to write until the end of the world as we know it, or maybe even more. The question remains, what do people read?
*inspired by reading too many essays in one sitting, and the wonderful comments from commiserating friends and colleagues. Oh, and Orwell really did say we write out of a sense of ego, aesthetics, history or politics.
**while this essay as a whole is simply modeled on some of our favourite student habits, this word actually appeared in a student essay. I kid you not.