Have you ever seen that episode of Sex & the City where the girls go to the Hampton’s and Carrie meets a “really good on paper” guy?!?! Anytime I see that episode, it always makes me think of anyone who’s ever tried online dating because really, until you take the brave leap outside of cyberspace, you are essentially living an entire relationship “on paper”.

The thing about being on paper is that you always tend to highlight your best features and of course, why wouldn’t you?? Like any relationship I guess, the early stages are always about putting your best foot forward as opposed to broadcasting your little idiosyncracies that others may not find so adorable. I think that most of the time it is not considered entirely humble to see yourself solely through the eyes of what appears on paper however, I’m starting to think that all of us should have a personal resume of our lives tucked away in our back pocket for certain times of need!

I’m personally especially sensitive to specific situations that immediately throw me back to grade school and the inner turmoil of self-consciousness. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I become a little girl who feels out of place in my being and attempting relentlessly to fit in amongst my peers. While I know that everyone endures moments of weakness when it comes to self-esteem, I think that it’s equally important to be able to tally our list of personal accomplishments when our souls are in need of a little pick me up!

I’ve never actually tried this means of renewal before but, this past week, when I was challenged with an adverse situation that was depleting my ego, I decided to stop and try to remind myself of who I really am…even if it is only on paper!

I’ll admit that in my thirty years, I’ve done a lot…not as much as some…but definitely more than others! Some of those things though, while they may seem ordinary in nature, sum up a pretty extraordinary and blessed life!! If I had to put it all on paper…it might look a little something like this…

~ I have achieved all of my western horseback riding levels including my bareback certificate
~ I graduated from high school with a bilingual degree
~ I was an all-star volleyball player in high school
~ I’ve had the same best friend since grade ten (the very best there is too!)
~ I’ve never smoked or done a single drug in my life
~ I graduated university eight months early with a double-major
~ I survived nearly seven years of living on my own without ever having to starve!
~ I’ve won the Founding Father Award for outstanding community service two years in a row
~ I’ve been blessed to have some of the most unique and amusing jobs a student could ever ask for
~ I was chair of the National Youth Council of Canada for two years
~ I sat on the National Board of Directors for Boys and Girls Clubs of Canada at the age of seventeen
~ I’ve ran a marathon
~ I’ve paced one of the country’s largest half-marathons
~ I am truly married to the most wonderful man I’ve ever known (who never fails to make me laugh!!)
~ I’ve been blessed with incredible health
~ I’ve been priviledged enough to have some of the most incredible mentors
~ I have the greatest group of friends that I simply love to death
~ I work in the most beautiful building
~ I worked in the second most beautiful building for that…
~ I am in love with my current home and even more so with our new one!
~ I am loved unconditionally by family and friends
~ I am fortunate enough to have a Starbucks on every corner!!

So, call me egotistical if you must but, everyone needs to remember where they’ve gone and how far they’ve come so when people around you risk making you feel otherwise, you can always be reminded of how blessed you are and of how much you are truly capable of. When I look at this list, it often makes me wonder who this person is and if I’ll ever get to meet her. The real point though is that woman simply have to learn to pat themselves on the back enough that their life on paper eventually leaps right off the page!!

Bonjour...

Someone keeps visiting the site from Bermuda!! How exotic!!

Who ever you are...Welcome!! And please send some of your warm weather our way...it's getting cold here!!!

Starbucks sightings...

Just when I thought that Starbucks couldn’t possibly get any better, I walked in this morning only to find myself sitting two tables away from Seann William Scott (or better known as “Stifler” from the American Pie movies!!). Seriously!

I was standing at the bar waiting for my drink when I noticed him sitting at a table with two other guys and I thought to myself what a striking resemblance he had to the actor. When I mentioned it to the barista, he told me that it actually was him and that he had been in yesterday as well. Crazy!

Suddenly, I found myself completely excited and no one I knew was around to share it with!! There was a girl sitting near me about the same age, so I blatantly interrupted her to tell her my news (she was very thankful!) and we ended up spending the next forty minutes chatting while discretely (or maybe not!) looking over our shoulder!! My new friend even spent five minutes “getting sugar” when we went back up to the bar for another drink!!


Oddly enough, no one in the store seemed to have recognized him. We all sat politely going about our business. Or so I thought! When he finally got up and left, all social decency apparently went with him because suddenly, nearly the entire restaurant of Sunday morning coffee drinkers got up to watch him out the window!!! It was quite hysterical!! He drove away with a friend in a Volvo station wagon…who knew?!?

This was my third “star sighting” in Ottawa since I’ve lived here. First off was Green Day asking me for directions while walking through the market (they wanted to know where Zaphod’s was!). Then two years ago, while shopping at the Papery in the market, Ryan Reynolds and Alanis Morrisette came in wanting to buy tape! The sales clerks and I just stood there with completely idiot grins on our face.

I’m honestly a very charming and witty girl at times!!

Hi Everyone!

I’m currently sitting at my living room window, overlooking the street and our neighbor’s children playing on the front lawn. I have a Peppermint Mocha in hand, a few candles lit next to me and Damien Rice playing on the computer. Needless to say that my senses are feeling indulged right now!!

Given my current delightful surroundings, I wanted to pretend that you were all sitting next to me with a yummy drink of your own as we shared stories of our past week gone by. It wasn’t until this morning that I realized just how chaotic this past week has been. My lack of presence in cyberspace is usually the first indicator that my days have taken on a life of their own!

Firstly, and certainly most importantly, Baby Rohan was back at CHEO this past week after being rushed to emergency from Deep River. Rohan has spent more than his share of time in CHEO during his short eighteen months on earth and I can say with certainty that it never gets easier. He arrived at emergency on Tuesday night and we spent most of the night with him and Monica while he under went various tests and waited to be admitted. We’re pretty familiar with CHEO now but nonetheless, there is something simply heart wrenching about an entire hospital devoted to children. Even with entire facilities to meet these needs, Rohan still found himself being admitted to the oncology ward due to lack of space anywhere else in the hospital. It was later determined that Rohan was suffering from Crupe, and given his condition, he needed to be isolated from the rest of the children in the ward. Hospitals are difficult enough to endure. Isolation in a hospital is so much worse.

I stayed with Baby Rohan for a part of Wednesday night while Monica went to our place to eat, shower, sleep and keep up on a life that seemed to have gone on without her. Rohan and I watched endless reruns of Baby Neptune and learned to dislike the presence of anyone wearing scrubs. While it was never easy watching Rohan in the hospital, this time, at this age, made his fear more visible and the desire to take him away so much stronger. In the midst of our little chaos tough, God brought me the precious of moments when Rohan looked right at me, pointed to the television screen and said “car”!!! He spoke to me for the very first time…Beautiful!

As many of you know, I’ve been feeling really restless lately. I’ve had a desire for change in my blood that is very foreign to me. As the creature of habit that I am, my need for different scenery is un-chartered territory. However, after months of this agonizing feeling brewing inside of me, I woke up on Thursday morning to snow and a soul that was no longer restless! Our natural cycle of seasons hasn’t happened much this past year. We went from winter right into summer and it’s basically stayed like that well into November. I had no idea that the fire burning inside of me was simply a response to Global Warming! It seems as though in the past week alone, I suddenly live in a different city! One day last week, I left work late and by the time I headed home, it was already dark outside. It’s literally been months since I’ve seen that part of the city at night and it’s truly like seeing it for the first time all over again. Between daylight savings, the gorgeous layer of snow and the beautiful Christmas decorations all along Sussex Drive, the seasons seem to have finally caught up with my own desire for change!


There was also a significant end to an era in my life this week…I finally finished the entire Harry Potter series!! Late on Thursday night I flipped the last page of The Deathly Hallows. It’s very safe to say that I am suffering from a severe case of Post-Potter Depression now!!! Unlike most people, I didn’t start the series until the final book was published hence, since July, I’ve been reading each book back to back. It’s been an intense relationship and frankly, I don’t know if I’m ready for it to be over!

For a very long time, Richard Parker from the Life of Pi and Dr. Hannibal Lecter from the series by Thomas Harris have been my favourite fictional characters. But now, I simply don’t know!! My life as recently been consumed with the magical bliss that is Harry Potter and I have to say that I have a very special place in my heart for Dumbledore; a man of true humility and patience, two characteristics that I admire in anyone, fictional or not. Regardless of how my list of favourite fictional characters may change, I can say with absolute certainty that Chapter Thirty-Three of the last book is the best chapter that I’ve ever read of any novel. I was breathless when I was done reading. People often claim that the Harry Potter phenomenon is overrated but, to truly consider the impact that a series of books has had on entire generations of people is spectacular. As an avid reader myself, nothing makes me happier that seeing the written word triumph in the end!!

And so, Sunday has finally arrived and the world seems to have changed in seven short days. I hope that you will forgive my absenteeism!! Us bloggers are always in cyberspace for the greater good but, sometimes, the greater good is right in front of us…in a hospital room…in the pages of imagination…or even in Mother Nature.

Superlatives...

In my senior year of high school, all of us got to nominate our classmates for various future accomplishments…you know, most likely to become famous…most likely to end up in prison…most likely to get their nose broken more than once…and so on and so on…

I didn’t get nominated for anything but, I always found it fascinating because in many ways, it really says something about how other people see you. As I’ve mentioned before, Russ and I have discussed this on more than one occasion and I think it would be a worthwhile investment for everyone to get a dose of themselves through someone else’s eyes. All too often we get so absorbed in the life that we are trying to accomplish that we forget to stop and see what we really project into the world.

I’ve been finding myself getting this reflection from all angles lately and so far, I’ve been pleasantly surprised!! While our worth and validation certainly isn’t determined by others, it’s still nice to know what others see when they look at you and if nothing else, it helps you to take a step back from your bubble and decide whether or not you like the feedback!!

I felt compelled to mention this because yesterday, I added a feature to my Facebook profile called Superlative. My old colleague, Nadia, brought it to my attention and convinced me to tag it on to my already crowded profile space!!! According to Wikipedia, Superlative is an adjective or adverb which indicates that something has some feature to a greater degree than anything it is being compared to in a given context. So for those of us who didn’t seem to stand out in high school…Facebook gives you the opportunity to experience your senior year all over again and nominate each other until your heart’s content!!

I’ve had this feature for about twenty-four hours now and so far, I’ve had four nominations (which really means that my friends rock!!). I’ve been nominated twice for “most likely to get out of trouble by smiling” (this cracks me up!)…once for “most likely to use the word “superfluous” correctly in a sentence” (I don’t know this word but, I appreciate the credit!) and my personal favourite…one nomination for “most likely to kick it with Jesus”!!!

Sometimes it pays to experience high school all over again…maturity has its perks!!!

Update ~ I have since received two nominations for "most likely to spend all of her money at Starbucks", one nomination for "most likely to run through the streets naked" (?!?!) and one nomination for "most likely to win the Giller Prize" (thanks Jesper!). Oh...and I looked it up and now know what Superfluous means!!!

Like most couples, when Steve and I got engaged, we had to participate in pre-marital classes leading up to our wedding. These classes tend to come in a variety of formats ranging from one-on-one classes with a priest or pastor, to large group settings in a church basement. For us, we experienced a little bit of both…a large group weekend retreat at the church followed by a meeting with Father Joe closer to the wedding.

We were extremely fortunate to have the entire process of our wedding guided by Father Joe from Blessed Sacrament Church. Not only is Father Joe an amazing priest and leader but, he’s personally guided me a great deal along my spiritual path. Blessed Sacrament Church is where I was baptized as a baby and confirmed twenty-five years later so the experience of also being married there was quite overwhelming.

Though Father Joe has most certainly followed a calling to the priesthood, he is also educated in the field of psychology and marital councelling. Thanks to this background, the intensity of the pre-marital courses for those that he personally marries is a bit different than those being married in other churches. Father Joe strongly believes that every person possesses the alter ego of an animal who, in times of stress, show instinctive features and, if we learn to understand these characteristics, can better enable us to support each other through marriage. He believes that when our human abilities to cope are depleted, we fall back on our instinctive animal behaviour as a means of getting by.

This alter ego, along with a psychological profile of nearly three hundred questions, can help Father Joe determine a specific degree of compatibility for each couple as well as determine potential problems such as alcoholism or abuse. With the strong consideration of these two factors, Father Joe is entitled to refuse marrying a couple that he fears may not be suitable for one another due to a variety of reasons. While I imagine that these situations are relatively rare, it’s refreshing to see someone take the vows of marriage so seriously.

I have to honestly say that I certainly wasn’t nervous going into this process at all, but found myself completely fascinated by the many components taken into consideration when rating two individual’s compatibility. When Steve and I finally met personally with Father Joe, he spoke to us very candidly about our results and determined that we had a compatibility of 96%, which in his eyes, was more than enough reason to go ahead with our wedding!! Obviously, we were thrilled to hear such great feedback (though we certainly had no doubt) but, I’ll admit that I was a bit surprised by my animal alter ego!!

Going into it, I figured that most certainly, I would possess the alter ego of some feline. Throughout my life, other people have consistently compared my personality to the characteristics of a cat. Back in university, one of my roommates once told me that he thought watching me go about my day was like watching a jungle cat in the wild!! I have no idea what he meant by this, but it still cracks me up when I think about it!! I suppose, over time, I just became accustomed to such comparison and frankly, it could be worse!! Imagine being compared to a naked mole rat…

Anyways, as it turns out, my animal alter ego is that of a white wolf. The more Father Joe proceeded to describe my “instinctive characteristics”, the more surprised I was to hear someone describe me in such a way. Apparently, the significance of being a white wolf is to be a pack animal that is extremely loyal to family. I would spend my entire life with my family and never leave their side. I tend to be a very docile animal however I am still wild by nature and when provoked, will readily defend my family and safety. Though wolves are rather peaceful, they also have very few predators (in their natural habitat) which enable them to roam with a certain degree of confidence. Father Joe also mentioned the significance of my alter ego having specific physical features. He said that while all wolves are very beautiful creatures, white wolves are especially distinctive and very captivating to the eye (remember, Father Joe said this…I would NEVER describe myself this way!!!!). In recognition of this alter ego, it is suppose to enable me (and Steve) to better understand my actions when my human spirit is depleted. As a wolf, I will almost always back away when I feel threatened and in times of need, affection and physical contact is the most reliable way to calm the beast in me.

Some cultures even believe wolves to be the highest animal in the spiritual plane as they tend to represent balance in nature. White wolves especially, are believed to live in the spiritual and physical dimensions at the same time, which enables them to act as a bridge between the two worlds. They are believed to teach the necessary lessons that enable to bring both of these lives into balance and help to understand the underlying purpose of events and issues in our lives.

If only that understanding would come now…right when I need it most!!!!

While I may not have all the answers, at least now, when things seem daunting in the woods, I try hard to remember what the likes of my alter ego craves in her time of need. More times than not, closing my tired eyes and getting a good scratch behind the ear does make the journey in the forest a little less wild.

Now Steve on the other hand…I’m not allowed to say what animal he is (he wasn’t pleased!!) but, let’s just say that I could eat him alive if he doesn't behave himself!!!!! Grrrr….

Sweet Madness and Glorious Sadness...

This past week has been very challenging and I couldn’t be happier to see Friday with the anticipation of a long weekend. Sometimes more than just the body needs the rest. Last night, after having been pushed to my emotional limits by my workplace, I stood in our kitchen filled with an anger that I don’t often experience and tears just streaming down my face. Life unfolds in many manners and at its own necessary pace, I have come to learn and accept that over time. However, last night, as I was expressing a degree of distress towards an ongoing conflict, I suddenly realized that I had had that very same conversation, in that very same place about two years earlier. The thought stopped me dead in my tracks as my mind drifted into the next question…”why then, was I having this conversation again”?? The answer was because I had simply never done anything about it the first time…because I let the wave of emotion pass over me and when the dust had settled, so did I. I settled back into an environment that I knew wouldn’t make me happy and that the emotion would be back again, but until then, life would go on. How many times has this happened?? How many times have you done the same thing over and over again, all the while, expecting different results?? How many times have you said “it could be worse” and continued on in spite of yourself?? There is something to be said for persistence…for picking yourself up time and time again and not giving up. However, at some point in time, you have to decide whether or not the destination is really worth sacrificing the journey.

I think that the older we get and the more commitments we have, the less our own life becomes a priority. Our goals slowly get put aside for any number of reasons and the path that we are on becomes the only path that we know. As children, we never see the world through such restrictive eyes. We spend years playing with the idea of what we want to be “when we grow up” and at the same time, never really knowing when that is. Something happens as adults though, something that Sarah McLachlan so eloquently states as “sweet madness and glorious sadness”…that state of complacency between the evil that we know and the evil that we don’t know. While the evil is unpleasant, at least it’s familiar and more times than not, we’ve developed all the essential tools for coping through it time and time again.

What happens though when there isn’t anywhere left to go or anything left to give?? When you suddenly find yourself caged in a place that you never thought you’d be?? Anger happens. Like all animals, when pushed into a corner without any more options, even the most docile of creatures will begin to fight back. They begin to turn their sense of fear into a sense of fury. With their feet firmly planted on the ground, they stop backing away and begin standing tall, prepared to do whatever needs to be done to ensure their survival. It is nature’s way of not letting you give up on yourself.

In the dimness of our kitchen, I suddenly realized that all this time, I had given up on myself. I had given up by allowing myself to think that I didn’t have options. I had given up by thinking that there was nothing to do but be backed into a corner. I had given up by believing that my desire for peace meant I couldn’t fight back. With a clarity that I had never seen before, I understood for the first time what Marilyn meant when she said that while someone may have been holding a gun to my head…I was giving them the bullets.

Without the bullets, someone can still take their best shot at you and it will still be loud, scary and unpleasant…but it has no ability to drain the life out of you anymore. Without the bullets, you will not fall to your knees, wounded and weak or be blinded where you stand.

I woke up this morning feeling like a different person. I no longer felt sweet madness or glorious sadness. I no longer felt overwhelming anger either. I felt like I had suddenly taken all the bullets away and was slowly moving away from the corner. The animal in me had just fought back...

I decided this morning that I am going to win the Giller Prize one day!! It’s a bit ambitious for a Wednesday morning but, hey, you do what you’ve got to do!!

In the meantime though, congratulations to Elizabeth Hay for winning the 2007 Giller Prize last night for her novel Late Nights on Air. Ms. Hay…you made the cold Canadian North worth $40,000!!!

I was a beast of a wife on Friday and ended up hurting Steve’s feelings. After too many sleepless nights, I ended up losing my patience with him and soon found myself in the presence of sad eyes that made me feel horrible. Obviously, I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings and obviously, the guilt set in quickly but, what surprised me most was how long it took for the guilt to subside. Given not only my “baggage”, but also my perfectionist nature, it sometimes takes me a long time to get over having hurt someone. In the past, if the people that I loved were hurting (be it because of me or not), they have always left…left the city, left the house, left the relationship…whatever. So I have become accustomed to relating a state of sadness to me being left behind. It has become a brutal and relentless insecurity of mine that I have yet to shake.

Steve doesn’t often get sad, so this side of me does not come up often in our relationship but, sure enough, there are times when my emotional state at the time overrides my sensitivity to his feelings, and then the flood gates open. He laid on our bed with a crushed look on his face and in an instant, when I should have been trying to make him feel better…I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as a twenty nine year old demon reared its ugly head. It’s never easy to get left behind. Rejection aside, it’s gut wrenching to get through those initial moments of saying what can’t be said and acknowledging that it’s all really happening. The signs are usually the same though…the silence…the knot in your stomach that tells you something horrible is about to happen and then finally…asking the question that you don’t really want the answer to.

Of course, this is not what happened to us. Steve wrapped me in his arms and told me not to be so hard on myself. This is marriage and the incident, albeit unkind of me, was insignificant in the big picture. I was tired, grumpy and I took it out on the man that I loved. It’s not the first time and likely won’t be the last. It’s the nature of imperfection and the reality of life-long relationships. What was frightening though was that, while my intellectual side was consciously aware of all this…my emotional side had turned into a seven year old girl gripped with fear that she was about to be left…orphaned, destined to fend for herself and once again, provided with proof that she is unlovable. I was caught off guard by how quickly this state overwhelmed me and how much I wanted to beg for another chance.

Reactions like this are not for the faint of heart. It takes years of conditioning to develop this in a person and only now, I am starting to realize its existence. It is evidence of some deeply rooted need to be perfect at all times and the moment that my so called perfection slips through the cracks…I am no longer worthy of being loved or happy, nonetheless forgiven.

My beautiful friend Kate said at her wedding that woman often need reminding that they are loved. I’ve seldom heard a statement that is so true and I often wonder if even the most confident of woman among us are spared these moments?? It’s true that I’ve carried far more “baggage” into our relationship than Steve has and in turn, it has required a great deal more work on my part to sort through the dark corners of my mind in order to clear out space for a life beyond my past. It hasn’t always been easy for Steve but, I think that I’ve done well. I think that I’ve bravely looked at the roads ahead and made the courageous choice that my life would be different. I think that I’ve devoted the time, the pain and the effort to seriously reconsider the toxins in my life so that I could forgive others and more importantly, forgive myself.

The challenge of such an endeavour became clear this weekend though when it took hours for the dust that my dagger had stirred up to settle. I had hurt the man that I love and couldn’t forgive myself for having done so. Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I believed that while all the work I’ve done has turned my life around, it still doesn’t change the fact that, in comparison to most, I’m still damaged goods and my margin for error then becomes much smaller than those around me. I was suddenly unworthy of being loved anymore and the only way to make things right was to endure the pain of watching him walk away.

How does this happen to a person?? Russ and I have often discussed the differences between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us only to realize that our realities are quite different. While some may see a strong, confident woman in me, there are times when I see (and feel) a scared little girl that desperately wants to be loved…and mostly by herself. I think it’s safe to say that we all have our insecurities and that everyone has moments of weakness that hit certain nerves more than others. Clearly, mine is a state of vulnerability in which I need forgiveness for my lack of perfection. I need reminding that even though I simply don’t get it right all the time, it doesn’t mean that I deserve the punishment of being left behind. Clearly, for all the work I’ve done…there are still bruised parts of my soul that have yet to heal from enduring years of brutal beatings. This has to be okay though because, although I refuse to be a prisoner to my past, I am shaped by it and as the saying goes, “our scars remind us that the past was real”.

And so we move ahead…our broken hearts still beating just the same…

Fabulous Fall Fun with Beautiful Baby Virginie!!

It's All Hallows Eve down in the Glebe!!!

For more pictures from our spooky night, click here.

I found this picture today when I was loading some stuff off our camera. I had taken it last weekend when we were walking through the arboretum and had since forgotten all about it. There is nothing particularly special about it, but I really like it.

lunch time fun in the market!! how excited are you that it's Friday?!?!

Confession....

When I was little I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers!!

Congratulations go out to my new Texan friend who just received confirmation that he will be standing at the start line of the world's most prestigious marathon in 2008!!!!!

I'm sure that I speak for my running friends everywhere when I say that we are green with envy!!!!!! I hope you don't mind if we live vicariously through your super speedy legs!!!

2 BOSTON U GO!!!

(Thanks to wallyg for the picture!)

Louisa May Alcott, author of the brilliant 1868 novel Little Women, once wrote "change happens as surely as the seasons, and usually twice as fast". As a person who seldom enjoys change very much, I've always loved this quote because given that I simply adore the change of seasons, this poetic description makes all other potential change seem far more bearable and romantic!

Having spent almost four years in our current apartment, Steve and I have come to learn the inner workings of our neighborhood pretty intimately. We know the best houses to visit on Halloween, the best time to hit up Starbucks each weekend and where to find the best bargains during our annual summer garage sale. Like any other relationship, our neighborhood has it's little eccentricities that you develop an admiration for over time. One of the things that I love best about our neighborhood is that, for all the change that it endures, it has a certain rhythm to it that can be relied upon like clockwork. Like the cloudy, dark horizon before a storm, this rhythm, ironically enough, is usually the first sign that change is not far behind.

During our first year in our new home, as we were seeing our new surroundings in different light for the first time, we discovered that our neighbor's tree, who's branches hang in front of our living room window, was the very first tree to change colour each year!! It's truly the most beautiful red tree that I've ever seen and for a good two weeks, it stands alone on our street among all the other trees that still linger in the green colours of summer. It never fails that each year, sometime in late August or early September, either Steve or I will wake up one morning to the bright branches that literally seem to have changed over night...it's first sign that fall is on it's way!!

Shortly there after, the other trees on the street begin to follow suit. One by one, there leaves change colour and for about a month, we are all sheltered by a canopy of leaves eager to show off their vibrance to the world. Come October, the rain arrives. Darkness greets us earlier each evening and stays around longer each morning. The leaves begin to fall and orange pumpkins begin to show up on front porches everywhere. Our neighborhood is notorious for Halloween and children from across the city flock to our streets to join in the excitement. Little do all of those dressed up visitors know that their evening of Halloween spirit was a month in the making!! Anticipation takes time to build and our neighborhood is simply famous for it!!

Sure enough, within the first couple of weeks of October, the temperatures start to drop. The days are still warm and indulgent, but the nights bring a chill in the air that make you crave warm drinks and bulky sweaters. With this, comes my favourite ritual of all...bringing out our down blanket. Our king size down comforter, given to us for our wedding, is kept in a pine chest all summer just waiting for that perfect fall night. There are few places in the world that I love as much as our bed with our giant feather blanket and a good book. That first night of being reunited with our blanket always offers the most wonderful dreams and the soundest sleep!!

By this time, the trees are bare and nature shows more signs of hibernation. The squirrels whisk around in a hurried frenzy instead of their usual playfulness. The beautiful gardens that normally landscape our street get prepared for the winter months and the backyard toys are beginning to get packed away. The likes of snow shovels and wool scarves can be seen in neighbors doorways. I would normally cringe at the thought of our soon to be snow covered lawn but, thanks to our neighborhood's delicate transition, I know to prepare myself for what's to come!!

The final full week in October is when the neighborhood bursts with Halloween excitment. Homes everywhere are decorated and every now and then, out of the corner of your eye, you'll catch a little one trying on their costume and practicing their candy enticing smiles!!! Other than the few leaves left lying along the curb, the trees bear very little protection anymore. Instead, they provide a view that isn't otherwise seen during most of the year.

Our neighborhood is one of the oldest in the city and you can tell at first glance that even the trees show great pride in their maturity. With it's countless years of practice, it has managed to turn the art of change into a refined subtleness that almost goes unnoticed for those who live among its streets. For all the comforting whispers and gentle nudges that we are given to ease us into the change, nothing seems to prepares you for the day that you walk out your door, only to find that the canal has been drained once again for the season. The sight of our beloved canal, empty and dry, brings a shock that can only mean one thing...summer is officially gone yet again. The sadness usually lingers for a day or two as your eyes adjust to the unfamiliar scenery, but before you know it, you'll hear a chuckle of excitement from the one of the little girls next door and remember that when the first snow fall arrives...there will be a lot more of those to come!!

So there we are, yet again, my beautiful neighborhood and Mother Nature have teamed up to make saying goodbye to the long nights of summer a little bit easier. Every year, it feels like an invisible hand has taken mine and is slowly walking me through the inevitable. Perhaps that's why I love the change of seasons so much; It never fails to make me feel young again and remind me that, despite its power, there is a gentleness to the universe.

It is true that change will happen as surely as the seasons and likely twice as fast...it's one of the few things in life that you can truly count on. But for all the anxiety that change can sometimes bring, four years spent in the wisdom of my neighborhood has taught me that, if it weren't for change, we wouldn't have the opportunity to shed our own leaves in patient anticipation of a new season; Some filled with ritual, others with filled rhythm, but all promising a view that likely wasn't there until you woke up one morning and saw the red tree.

My colleague, Julie, and I live fairly close to one another so, we frequently try to walk home together whenever we can. It’s always a really relaxing and fun way to end off the workday that can be otherwise consuming at times. With the funeral on Monday, many of us were left with a very unsettled sadness that wasn’t easy to shake off. It was a rough way to start off a week. Today was the first time in a while that Julie and I were able to walk home together, and despite the wet weather, we were looking forward to our afternoon trek. Our moods had lifted and the weekend was a walk away...we were determined that not even the rain was going to change our spirits that had endured a rather emotional week.

Julie and I were both heading to our local grocery store on Bank street when we were stopped in our tracks by sirens coming at us from every direction. Before we knew what was going on, we were surrounded by fire trucks, search and rescue vehicles, ambulances and police cars. As it turned out, the building directly across the street from the grocery store, and no more than 500 feet from where we were standing, had collapsed in on itself. As a police officer was quickly trying to move us from the scene, I instinctively grabbed his arm and asked if anyone was inside. He just looked at me with the face of someone that didn’t want to have to break the news and said “yes”.

The Duke of Somerset used to be a very popular pub when I first moved to Ottawa ten years ago. Over time, as the demographic of the Bank and Somerset area changed, the pub became less conducive to the neighborhood. It’s been vacant and empty for some time now but, given the prime real estate that it sits upon, it wasn’t long before it was swept up by owners eager to take over new management. While it’s fortunate that the building wasn’t filled with patrons grabbing a beer after work, it did have construction workers within, busy renovating the new space.

From where Julie and I were standing, the building was a mere hollowed out structure with nothing but rubble inside. There were no walls and no floors…just a huge mound of broken wood pieces crumpled in the frame of what used to be a favourite hang out. I just looked at it and wondered how anyone could survive being buried under there.

While my heart rate increased rapidly, everything else around me seemed to be coming to a stand still. In the midst of all the panic, my breathing became really shallow, yet as I looked around me, the flashing lights and rescue crews running in all directions seemed to be moving in slow motion. Even the rain came down a bit slower. Traffic was halted in every direction, pedestrians were caught in the crossfire of emergency vehicles and reporters were on every corner trying to tell the story of what lay beneath the pile. The entirety of Ottawa’s core had come to a screeching halt and nothing seemed to exist beyond this eight block radius.

Standing in the down pour, I can vividly remember the water dripping off my hair and running down the back of my sweater. It seemed odd to me the things that appeared to stand out in the midst of chaos. I noticed all of the police tape and the media crews, and for the second time this week, I felt like I was standing in the middle of a movie…something simply too surreal to possibly be happening.

I made it home about forty minutes later, drenched to the bone and walking through the countless puddles that were now joining forces with the fallen leaves to make the world seem that much more treacherous to get through. My umbrella had broke from the blustering winds and there wasn’t much of me left to salvage by this time.

When I walked through our apartment door, I just stood in the hallway with an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. All of the water from my hair, clothes and bags were forming a puddle where I stood, yet the lights and warmth from our apartment brought the very comfort that I so desperately needed. After a couple of deep breaths and a sigh a relief, I heard the most wonderful sound in the world…that of my husband greeting me from the other room. I put my bags down on the floor and walked my soaking self over to him wanting nothing more than to be in his arms. It was the safest place in the world.

After the things that I have witnessed this week, I have only one thing left to say; if you are breathing right now…and if the person that you love most is breathing right now…then your life…is simply magical. Even on the rainiest of days.

Lunch hours at the Gallery are prized possessions! Working in the high paced environment that we do, we cherish our time to unplug and take a breather from our desks. Normally, my friends and I go out for coffee or linger among the courtyards of the market as a means of refreshing our minds and bodies for the rest of the day. Today though, we stood along Sussex Drive with five thousand police officers and hundreds of other mourners to say farewell to RCMP Const. Christopher John Worden.

The Notre Dame Basilica, where the funeral was being held, is directly across the street from the Gallery. A large screen television and chairs were set up on our plaza for the hundreds of people that couldn't fit into the church. Being closely affected by today's ceremony due to proximity, all of us at the Gallery had been prepped since last Friday in anticipation of crowds that simply outnumbered the capacity of what could be provided. My friends and I were merely a few of the literally thousands of people that turned out for an incredibly moving display of brotherhood.

Like most Canadians, none of us knew Const. Worden other than to know him in his tragic death. In the line of duty, the 30 year old father and husband was shot dead. Something about him being our age and being from Ottawa made it hit home in a way that compelled us to stand on the curb of Sussex Drive to provide some form of solidarity to his brave wife and family that had to endure their final goodbye. The streets of Ottawa were oddly quiet. Much like most people's ability to comprehend what happened, the core of the city had shut down. As his wife and young daughter stood on the sidewalk in front of the church, three thousand police officers marched from Parliament Hill up to the Basilica escorting Const. Worden's casket. It was heart-wrenching.

People around us cried and the errie silence of the city was broken with the sound of bagpipes in the distance. His casket was drapped in a Canadian flag and I couldn't help but wonder if every other officer present felt a disturbing feeling at knowing that the possibility of their own family standing there one day is very real. This is how you say goodbye to heroes.

Some would ask why you would endure such a difficult moment when you don't know the person that was lost. The only answer that I can think of is because that young wife is one of us. Right now, while her husband is in heaven, she must feel like she's in hell. While we are going about our day, she is having to comprehend a life that will never be the same. Though we stood across the street from her, we were really world's apart. How could you possibly be so close to this sort of grief and not make an effort to share in it?? Had you been there, you too would have done anything to bear the weight of some of her pain.

I ended up staying for almost three hours because somehow, I couldn't tear myself away from it. Something inside of me physically ached and all the while, I felt like I was watching a movie. It was simply too surreal to truly be happening. I was lost in a sea of sadness.

As the funeral ended, Const. Worden's wife stood by herself at the edge of the sidewalk holding their eight month old daughter as she watched her husband get carried away for the last time. The sight of it left me broken. All of the police officers soon lined either side of Sussex drive for more than a kilometre as Const. Worden was taken to Beechwood Cemetery for a private burial. A flood of salutes surrounded the cars as he was taken away and then there was nothing left in me but tears. Nothing I write here today can accurately express what it felt like to witness this sadness and as I stare blankly at the screen I come to realize that there are simply no words. This fallen hero died trying to protect us.

I usually return from my lunch hour more prepared to tackle the remainder of the day. Today, I returned questioning the fragility of life and the sense of justice that harnesses our world.

Some things simply aren't fair.

(Photo by Tom Hanson of the Canadian Press)

Ah, Thanksgiving...you've come and gone again...and I miss you already!!

For more pictures from Thanksgiving weekend, click here.

In 1990, Chris McCandless told his parents that he was taking a road trip out to California to visit some friends. In September of 2002, his body was found in the Alaskan wilderness by two moose hunters. Somewhere between leaving home in 1990 and leaving this world in 1992, McCandless changed his name, cut all ties with his family, donated his life savings and died alone on the edge of the earth. He was 24 years old.

Many years later, author and adventure writer, Jon Krakauer wrote the book Into the Wild, an attempt to backtrack and trace some of McCandless' steps as he evolved from being the graduate of a wealthy suburban family to a lone traveler determined to sever all association with the world he once knew. Most recently, Sean Penn directed the movie, which was released last Friday.

From the moment I first heard this story, I've been curious to know what happened to him?? What happens to someone to make them turn their back on everything and everyone they know to live in isolation?? Was it merely a desire to be rebellious or a sincere need to make the world stop turning, if even momentarily??

Both the book and the movie spend a great deal of time reflecting on the troubled past that McCandless had experienced as a child. While it seems clear that this highly contributed to the choices he made, many people face difficulties and challenges in their young life that doesn’t always result in taking the road that leads directly away from home.

Since having seen the movie, I’ve found myself caught off guard by the emotions I feel towards the choices that McCandless made. To leave everything and everybody in order to isolate himself troubles me a great deal and until recently, I couldn’t figure out why.

Many people, my husband included, believe that McCandless simply held humanity to a higher moral standard and when he saw that expectation crumble before his eyes, he felt that distance between him and society was the only way to mend the disappointment he felt towards the world he was living in.

I know that the first person to step up and defend McCandless’ actions would be my mother. Like McCandless, she struggles with the world being the way that it is and also like McCandless, she’s not here. She’s not here because ten years ago, she sold almost everything she owned, packed up the remainder of her possessions and headed into the wild. She ended up out West, on an island on hundred miles off the coast of British Columbia because apparently, land alone didn’t put enough distance between her and her past.

She initially moved out west when I first came to university and even now, I believe that it was intended at the time to simply experience life in a different way. My mother had lived the better part of twenty years for someone else and she desperately longed to break free of her obligations. She never hesitated to remind me that, had it not been for me, her life would have gone in a very different direction. As her daughter, this brought with it a unique form of guilt that only comes from knowing you are the bars that seem to be caging a wild animal who wants nothing more than to be free.

Eventually she left. She kept in touch for the first little while but, quickly, over time, her calls became fewer and farther between until eventually, she had no permanent number in which to make contact. I still called when I could but, had I not, months would go by without hearing from her or knowing where she was. About two or three years ago, when she stopped calling on my birthday or during holidays, was the first time that I realized that you can grieve for people long before they’ve actually passed on.

For most of my family, especially myself, we’ve had to mourn my mother because we know that she is gone and that she is never coming back. Though she hasn’t vanished entirely, being in her presence is like experiencing the afterlife of a woman I once knew. Like a ghost, she will appear from time to time in a way that causes the floors to creek in unsuspecting places and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. And just like that, she disappears as quickly as she came, leaving behind her an eerie presence that reminds you that unresolved issues still lurk in dark corners.

While I certainly don’t find much nobility in what McCandless did during the last two years of his life, I have compassion for it because he was young and in search of who he was outside of the mold he had been born into. I think that McCandless ultimately did find what he was looking for and in turn, his desire to experience human connection again enabled him to no longer be defined by a past that he couldn’t change. Ironically enough though, the very freedom that he so desperately sought is the very thing that left him to die a very slow and painful death alone in the woods.

My mother, on the other hand, had a daughter and she walked out of her life. Instead of two years, it’s been ten years. Even in the pursuit of betterness, there are selfish acts that you simply can’t take back. Like suicide, taking it upon yourself to end your existence in any way, whether it be through death or simply turning your head and walking away, leaves nothing more than a trail of people surviving in the aftermath that used to be your life.

My mother certainly wasn’t the first person to choose the consistency of nature over the unpredictability of humanity, and she definitely won’t be the last. While it’s true that the wild is happy to open its arms and welcome you as you search for solace, the wild will not weep for you when you stare up at the heavens to take your last breath. Like the people you choose to leave behind, nature can only give so much if you’re not willing to do at least some of the work on your own. Though it may be the most perfect of hiding places, in the end, you can never outrun your past.

Ultimately, for as long as you walk the earth, you can spend your entire life going into the wild but, you’re never really living at all until you manage to find your way out of it.

photo is a self-portrait taken by McCandless with a disposable camera. It was found undeveloped when hunters discovered his body.