Home 2011 (Page 3)

Year: 2011

Never Turn Your Back on a Campbell

Yesterday, my husband and I attended the local Scottish Festival and Highland Games.  This was a third – twice, out in California, we attended the big one at Pleasanton.  We both have Clan Campbell shirts – everyone in California had a clan shirt (in comparison, we were the only ones who had them here, and had several people ask where we’d gotten them). While on the bus, I had a woman sit in front of me, take one look at my shirt, and say “Oh no, I’ve got my back to a Campbell!”  

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My Mother, My Hero

My mother is one of my heroes. Let me tell you why. When I was very ill as a small child, and doctor after doctor couldn’t determine what was wrong, she refused to stop digging until she found the answers herself. (I was celiac, a disease that was almost unknown then.) She went against convention and social pressures to raise my two siblings and me.

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The Fine and Elusive Art of Not-a-Carpet

Everyone knows that part of being an adult is the art of compromise. That there’s no “I” in “team.” Great things happen when we all work together. After all, they teach us that stuff in kindergarten–pick up, pick up, everybody do your share–and it’s reinforced throughout our lives. “Take one for the team” and all that. But there’s another part of growing up that we don’t often hear about. The art of not being a rug. To me, it’s a harder lesson to learn. At work, in our friendships, no one wants to be the high-maintenance person. No one wants to be the selfish one. We can’t all agree on everything–there has to be give and take. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.

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Family History

This past Tuesday, my family got together and made decisions about who would get what was left of my grandfather’s possessions.  At his funeral, my aunt told me that she had my grandmother’s old typewriter and that it was her wish that I have it.  She felt that because I was the writer of the family, like grandma, that I would like that.  I was excited and so, so honored.  On Tuesday, I finally got to see it and take it home.

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His Faithful Squire

Sequel to Knight Errant Former joy-boy Rafe Ballard will miss living on the freighter Pendragon’s Dream. Under the watchful eye of Captain Eve Marcori, Marine veteran, no one beat him. He ate well, his life was rarely in danger, and—most important by far—he spent much of his days and all the glorious nights with his beloved Taro. Unfortunately, energetic Taro wants to take on the galaxy without his sister the captain standing by, and Rafe won’t be left behind. He’s learned enough to get a real job so he won’t be a burden. Taro is beyond capable of keeping him safe. What could go wrong? With a Marcori in the picture, lots. By the explosive end of his first job, Taro needs back-up. Rafe is all there is. Hedonist, layabout, and mooch he may be, but Rafe is also deeply in love. For Taro he’ll surprise everyone—especially himself.

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An Urban Adventure: Kensington Market, Toronto

If you’re ever in Toronto, after you’ve visited the CN Tower and the other obvious places…or if you’ve just moved here and want to see what “here” consists of…or even if you’ve never been anywhere near Toronto…come take a walk through a neighbourhood. Any neighbourhood will do, they’re all different, but one of my favourites is Kensington Market. If you’re taking the Spadina streetcar from the subway line, as we did, you enter via the bustle and strong smells of Chinatown – people hawking cheap t-shirts, designer knockoffs, herbs right on the sidewalk, sometimes pirated DVDs although none are to be found this time; there must have been a crackdown recently. Coming from the south, you turn off Spadina onto Dundas Street West, suddenly surrounded by quiet. One short block later, you turn again and now you are in a different world.

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The Rosy Glow Imparted by Long Ago

The first time I went camping, my dad had acquired a huge tent meant to sleep a legion, and we were dragged off to spend Memorial Day weekend living in it. I complained, whined, and muttered, and I took a stack of books a foot high. Now, understand–I grew up on a farm. I’d slept in the backyard in a sleeping bag. I’d slept in the barn in a sleeping bag. I’d slept on horses’ backs (sans sleeping bag) and in trees (also without the sleeping bag. That’s just asking for trouble.) Any time I wanted to eat fire-cooked food, I’d pester my dad into a weinie-roast. (I was twelve. Stop laughing.) So I really didn’t see the point in this camping thing. It was as miserable as I’d feared. It rained the whole weekend, one of those long, slow, soaking Pennsylvania rains. We were all–my dad, my brothers, my dad’s girlfriend, her kids–stuck in that huge flipping tent that really wasn’t big enough to hold us all day and night for three days.

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Failure is Not an Option

I’ll tell you a secret. I’m 35 years old and I don’t have a driver’s license. Yep, you read that right. People always freak out when I tell them that. In this day and age, and where I live, this is not the norm. We have a crappy public transit system, so driving is really necessary. Which sucks for someone like me. Here’s the condensed version. When I was 15, I went through the standard Driver’s Ed training. That was a joke, because I got, at most, three hours on the road. And I had severe anxiety, having never behind the wheel before. The instructor told my parents that I was not in any way ready to drive. I needed more time. So, the following year, we gave it another shot, and I was still unable to complete the training.

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