Have you read the one about .....

I just finished reading a great book. It was filled with humour and history and I thought that a friend of mine would enjoy it as well.

I often hesitate to recommend books to this person; I remember once suggesting that A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry was an incredible book. They got it, took it with them on vacation and blamed me later for recommending such a "depressingly god-awful book". I loved that book. And so, as you can imagine, I've been cautious about my suggestions. But this newest one just seemed to fit. The topic was in their particular area of interest, it wasn't fiction and it was well written. So I took the book - my copy with my notes because I often write in margins - and said "I thought you might find this really interesting."

The reply? After perusing the inside jacket for about 5 seconds the disdainful response was, "You want me to read a book by an author who's previous subject matter included a book about Moosejaw???"

It's quite funny you know. Those of you love to read as much as I do may understand what I mean when I say that the recommendation of a book is quite personal. The books that you really love say something about you. For me, the out of hand dismissal of a recommended book is akin to dismissing the person who recommended it. Then again, maybe I'm the only one who feels that way. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened for sure.

One thing though to be sure, I'll never recommend another book to that 'friend'.

....so I make the rules.....ya think???

One of my sons is a fan of novelty T-shirts and so I'm always on the lookout for unique and quirky examples. A few years ago I came across one that had what appeared to be one of those 'Hello my name is' tags you get when you go to a cheesy conference. The 'name' on the 'name tag' was 'Inigo Montoya' with another 'name tag' underneath that said 'you killed my father' and a final one saying 'prepare to die'. I guess two things matter for you to appreciate it - first is that you need to be a fan of the movie Princess Bride. Second is you really need to see it to get it. However, I digress.

Tonight I came across a man wearing a T-short that caught my attention. Not because it was quirky nor unique but because it was worn by a purported adult (maybe 35 or so) and was particularly offensive. I expect some people - the wearer at a minimum - found it quite funny but it didn't make me laugh. All I could think of was, you may have that but I'd bet anything that you don't have a date for tonight (or for any night). And you probably wonder to your sad lonely self why you don't have a date, why you can't get a 'good' woman and why you're stuck in a dead end job with little opportunity for career advancement. Can't possibly have anything to do with the decisions you make with respect to your wardrobe can it???

The saying? "I've got the dick so I make the rules."

gimme a break.

Obedience School

Tonight was the last of six sessions of obedience classes for Bailey. He's a smart puppy and so things have been pretty good - even though I don't work with him half as much as I should - but tonight was "the" night. Tonight was the exam.

As we went through out paces - and honestly is obedience class for the dog or the human??? - it was such an odd feeling knowing that someone was judging 'our' behaviour. Did he break during the sit/stay? Did he get distracted when the trainer walked by with the squeaky toy (his absolute favorite by the way)??? Will he 'measure up'? Will I measure up?

It's a very bizarre process. I know that this judging and evaluating is pretty much bogus. After all, the goal of the classes - ultimately - is to sell us on more classes (next step advanced obedience). Of course we need to learn and improve, otherwise the word of mouth advertising - the best after all - would fail miserably. And so there have been improvements. Some amazing improvements too.

Take Rocky. The chihuahua who arrived at the first class snarling, growling and barking at everything on two and four legs. At 'graduation' Rocky was able to sit (albeit off to one side) for the photo shoot along with all the other dogs. {ps... don't you just LOVE that the littlest dog in the group was named 'Rocky'... I LOVE it}.

So comes the graduation. Each of us comes forward, receives our diploma along with a scorecard indicating where we need to pay some specific attention to training, etc. And you can feel the .... tension .... in the room.

Winston. Dusty. Max. Henry. Then Bailey.

I take Bailey up to get his diploma and they tell me that he's done an amazing job (odd considering that he absolutely HATES to heel in class - does pretty good on our walks but when it comes to class ... nah, not so much .... so I spend a fair bit of time dragging him around). I shake hands with the trainers - SO formal - and they hand me his 'diploma' and scorecard and we return to our seat. 18 is the best you can do (6 questions with a max of 3 per question) and it's with an odd sense of judgement that I turn the page over to see his score.

I know he's improved from 6 weeks ago even though we absolutely haven't practiced as much as we should. Plus there are all kinds of conflicting messages since I'm the only one taking the training but not the only one spending time with him at home. But he does sit patiently in front of his food until I give him the OK to eat. He's a great dog and I've learned alot of tips/tricks in these classes that I need only to apply. So why the need for approval from those I pay to teach me? It's quite odd. And I know it doesn't matter.

oh yeah ..... he got 17 out of 18.

that's my boy !

Fire pits and anonymous notes

In Celtic spirituality there is a concept of a 'thin place' - a place where the veil between the sacred and the secular is so thin that one can have a glimpse of the glory of God.

In my life I've had a few thin places. As a child it was the beach in front of my family cottage. As an adult it was in front of the Icon at St. Agnes or in front of the fire in my backyard. Several years ago - during a particularly dark time - I spent hours and hours, night after night, in front of the fire. It saved me. Being able to sit quietly in the backyard late at night in front of the fire has been a God-send. It is my thin place.

Sadly, today when I got home from work I found an envelope that had been mailed by, obviously, a neighbour. It was addressed to our residence and inside was a printout of the Toronto Fire Department website indicating that the open air fire pit I have in my backyard (chiminea) are illegal in the city. Sad because I can no longer sit in front of my fire and glimpse the glory of God. And sad because a neighbour felt that they couldn't simply come and tell me their issues with the fire but felt the need to send an anonymous message.

Sad.

But I truly believe that as one door closes, another opens - surely God will lead me to a new thin place. Let's pray it's soon.

Bailey

After 5 1/2 years of being without a dog I got a puppy at New Years.

We had Raggs for about 10 years and I loved her. She died - or as someone recently said to me, I had to let her go - four days after my mother died and we immediately "replaced" her with 2 cats thinking that getting another dog right away would be too difficult. Over time our family was joined by two other cats, who used to belong to my sons, and so we became a 4 cat home! I was one cat away from being the crazy cat woman of Etobicoke.

But I always missed having a dog in my life. The cats were great - are great. But they aren't dogs. Obviously. So this past Christmas I thought a lot about getting a dog and decided that a puppy would be the best way to introduce a dog to a house with 4 cats. I've always wanted a Golden Retriever and so found a breeder not too far away and we went to visit. As I walked towards the door it opened and a gorgeous puppy romped across the snow covered grass. It was love at first sight.

That was 3 months ago and at this point I can't imagine my life without him.

What I am now learning about though is dog owner etiquette. I walk him a lot and since I'm not a particularly social person my tendency, at least initially, was to share a brief 'hello, how are you' and move on. But doggie owners are a special breed (if you'll pardon the pun) and they like to talk. Bailey is an extremely social puppy - he loves to play with any dog he meets along the way - and so I end up spending time in a doggie coffee cliche (usually sans coffee!) trying to make small talk with people who appear to know an awful lot more than I about how to raise and train a puppy.

Because Bailey is my first puppy - all the other dogs I've had have been were adults from the pound - I really don't contribute much to those conversations. I mainly try to listen and learn although there are an awful lot of conflicting ideas & viewpoints. And an awful lot of holier than thou opinions.

As I write this he's sleeping quietly in front of me after having spent the morning playing in the park and the afternoon playing with my son's dog (yes, I have both his dog and his cat AND him in my house now).

The sun is shining. The dog is happy and healthy. What could be better.

Weep with those who weep

Two years ago in January I got an email from a friend saying "can you call me please." That email was in response to a message I had sent simply saying "???????????????????"

A month or so earlier she had gone for her annual mammogram and had been called back because of some anomalies in the scan. They told her 'don't worry, it's very common' and yet we had worried. And so, on the scheduled day I waited and wondered and I sent the '???' email asking for the update. Of course, what I wanted to hear - what we had both convinced ourselves we would hear - was 'everything is fine; it was a false alarm; no worries' but what I got was 'can you call me please'. I knew then, of course, that it wasn't good news. You don't give bad news over email. You share bad news in person - or at least 'in voice'. And so I called. And we talked. And talked. And talked.

That was two years ago January. This January she was given a very positive report - following the surgery and treatment that she'd endured back in 2007 - and told 'see you next year'. The best words possible.

My friend is - apart from me maybe - the most private person I know. She told 7 people that she had breast cancer. Her partner (who was overseas for most of that year), me and 3 other friends, her sister, and her boss. That was it. She went for her appointments - grudgingly agreeing to have one of her friends accompany her to the first one - had her surgery and her treatments and continued her day to day work. Amazing. She never told her staff, her co-workers, her peers - no one outside of those 7 people. For weeks she went to Princess Margaret in the morning and then arrived late at work. She's sure her staff wondered about her absences; gossiped; made up stuff; whatever. And yet she was adamant that no one know. She didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her, to cut her any slack because she was 'sick', to know her personal life. She faced her dark night of the soul almost entirely alone. Doing housework to keep her mind occupied; talking, albeit briefly, to her four closest friends; working extra hours.

I often wondered - considering now pathologically private I am as well - how I might react in a similar circumstance. I expect that I would do this same thing. I expect that I would be even more private. In fact, I know that I would.

I so admire people who have a network they can reach out to. Friends they can commiserate with. In the words of St. Paul 'rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep'

The common cup

At tonight's Ash Wednesday service I was reminded of something that happened to me many, many years ago at another parish.

One of the couple's in the church were getting married and, because the bride was Spanish speaking, had requested that Fr. Hernan Astudillo from the parish of San Lorenzo co-officiate at their wedding.

The first time I saw Fr. Hernan was at the altar rail when he came to church to meet with the couple. I was administering the chalice and when I offered it to Fr. Hernan - although at the time I had NO idea who he was - he placed both of his hands over mine and took the cup to his mouth. It was as if his hands enveloped mine and we shared the cup in a personal and somewhat intimate manner. It connected us and yet we had never met. I found myself captivated ......I never forgot.

I've always appreciated when a hand is placed over mine when I receive the host because I think it matters. It's a personal connection that establishes a bond. A tender, gentle, fleeting - yet at the same time lasting - bond.

I thought of Fr. Hernan tonight; I think I'll put into practice what so charmed me those many years ago.