a very onion christmas

I know this post is past it's time but...

apparently this school missed the memo.


Merry Christmas to All

Today I celebrated my first Christmas outside of Canada. I headed to Boston to stay with my brother and his family, along with my parents who came to celebrate State-side. Last night we did the reenactment of the Savior's birth. My two year old niece was Mary, my 6 year old nephew was Joseph, my 4 year old nephew was a wise man, grandpa played a shepherd, and I was an angel (as always)... the other adults sat out. My nieces and nephews looked adorable. I'm sure you are all sad to miss the picture of me standing on a chair shouting praises. They're likely lurking on my brother's camera.

The Christmas service today was excellent, as the organist was absolutely amazing. Apparently he is doing his Ph.D. in choral arrangement. I really enjoyed singing along with his playing. I felt the spirit of the season and gratitude for the Savior's birth and death. After dinner we had a musical number by nephews and friends on recorders that one particularly naughty auntie bought them. It was rather amusing. This was followed by yet another nativity reenactment to which I sat out. It was a very Merry day indeed.

I wish all of you the best this season, and in the New Year. May we all find a little more joy and peace in our own lives and throughout the world.


A good night

Let me set the scenario...

Saturday night Miss Aislinn and Miss Ange headed up to Salt Lake City to see Good Night, and Good Luck. An excellent time was had, with the exception of the pesky person who chose not to turn off their cell phone. Not only did it ring twice, but it rang and rang and rang. As Miss Aislinn exited the theatre, she stopped in at the ladies room, or should I say the

Yes, read it folks, it does say "washroom." While my Canadian readers might be confused as to why I would need to blog about this, my American readers will understand. I have been teased relentlessly while living in the States for saying washroom instead of restroom or bathroom. The common response is "what is it? A laundry room.. hahahaha." Oh so funny, because, um, yeah, do you really "rest" in the restroom? And seriously, if you do, can I ask why you don't just flush and go when you are done your business. That seems a novel idea to my brother and father, but it is hard for me to fathom why people willingly stay in a bathroom longer than necessary. Okay, back to washroom... so you can imagine my surprise when I saw a sign in a public place in the USA that said washroom. I feel vindicated in my word usage! So shove it all you that mocked me. Now if only I could find public displays of "toque", "holiday" (meaning vacation not a day), and "garburator." As well, I'd like to push the spellings of theatre, behaviour, rumour, and travelling (etc). Oh, and one more thing, perhaps I could ask you all to pronounce it foy-yah, not foy-yer for that word that indicates a lobby. Cheers!

*Before you all jump on me for being a hater, I do prefer the American pronunciation of bag, sorry and drama


lapses in judgement

Last Thursday I had one of my worst days as a therapist. I still can't express exactly why it ended up being as bad as it did, but I can think of at least ten things that contributed. As I was driving home, I started flipping through radio stations as NPR just wasn't doing it for me. Before I realized it, I was singing along to Michael Bolton's version of "When A Man Loves a Woman." When it was over all I could do was laugh at myself for the serious misstep. I have NEVER been a Michael Bolton fan, even during my sketchier music days that included Milli Vanilli, Vanilla Ice and even (gasp) Backstreet Boys. (Look at all the confessions coming out of me today).

While listening to cheesy music is the least of my concerns, it reminded me of a serious lapse in judgement that lasted over a year. I was working on my master's in the USA, stressed out to the maximum, scared of living the rest of my life away from my family, and therefore hanging on to a long distance, and very unfulfilling relationship. So what did I do? I finished my master's, started my Ph.D. in my hometown, and tried to "work" on this dead-for-a-year relationship. It shouldn't have come as a huge surprise to me when I was blindsided and the relationship was over... but I was! All I could think about was why I had let myself get in to the position that I was in. I had given up the opportunity to pursue a Ph.D. in a program that was more suited for me, but more importantly, I had lost a huge sense of who I was in staying in that relationship. One of the hardest parts for me was admitting that I wasn't nearly as "with it" as I tried to come across. The good news is that I got back on my feet, met some great friends, had valuable time with my family, and decided to take a bigger risk that was in my best interest. I dropped out of my program, moved back to where I had gone to school, and started working full-time in a residential treatment facility. There are small moments when I question myself, but I believe that I made this choice when my mind was clear. It wasn't a "Michael Bolton" decision, those choices that are clouded by a myriad of emotions.

I have started to notice a trend that my Michael Bolton's seem to be more frequent when I am fearful, frustrated or sad. I'm curious if this is a universal phenomenon. Do we fall prey to poor choices when we feel similar emotions or do we each have unique triggers? Do some people make their poorest choices when they are happy? People in manic states, which is on the extreme end of excitement, often engage in high risk, damaging behaviours. So readers, if you don't mind me getting personal, what seems to cause your Bolton moments? And more importantly, why did Michael himself hold on to that awful mullet for so long? That was a SERIOUS lapse...


the day a narcissist felt me up

Last night I went up to Salt Lake City to see The Dandy Warhol's do their thing. I'll be posting a synopsis of the show on Popscoff. This post is to share an uncomfortable highlight.

While I was waiting for Courtney et al., to take the stage, I was chatting with friends. Suddenly this guy grabs me and starts talking to me. This is the conversation (the bracketed words are my thoughts).

Him: Are you a Dandy Warhol fan?
Me: Yes (man, this guy is really close and he's touching my back ALL over).
Him: Have you heard of the Brian Jonestown Massacre?
Me: Yeah. I recently watched Dig! (Crap, every time I move, he pulls me closer. Wait..this creep looks vaguely familar).
Him: I'm in the band (smiles). Who do you like better? (Man, this molester is Anton Newcombe. He's an unbalanced fellow. How do I answer this so that he'll stop touching me and so I don't tick him off?)
Me: (Smile). I like you both equally. (I think he has successfully touched every square inch of my back, and I'm hoping he will leave so my backside isn't the next target).
Him: Ah.. (smiles and walks off)
(my personal space was just violated by anton)

Now, it could be some random stranger who thought it would be funny to pretend to be in BJM, and who looks an awful like Anton Newcombe, but my intuition said it was him. The strangest part to me is that I'm not typically the woman in the crowd who gets unsolicited attention... especially from crazy musicians. But at least I have an interesting story to tell in my usually boring life. The Dandy's played an awesome set, and I took some awful pictures with my camera phone!


A Christmas carol

If you are not in the Christmas mood yet, this will surely help.

Just when you think this song can't get any better, it does. I'm sufficiently smiling to go and brave the masses at the mall.
O Holy Crap!

And to reaffirm my disdain for cats, there's this little ditty.


who thought this was clever?

I have driven the same route to work for the last month but only today noticed a delightful used car dealership. In this instance, the term "used car dealership" is generous. It was more reminsicent of that neighbour who always had enough cars on their front lawn to start a business. Despite the lackluster appearance, it had one of the best business names ever, "Konsigned Kar Korner". One typically expects that sort of genius to be reserved only for motorhomes, which got me thinking...

Isn't it odd that there are three K's in the name? Is it really just a cover for something far more sinister? Utah county is 89.2% Caucasian. I sat with this tangential thinking for mere minutes before I shook the Dan Brown out of me and drove on.

The likely conclusion? This business suffered the same misfortune as many children here in Utah. It was given a name that never should have been brought to fruition.