Well, I was wrong … my dear Ottawa bloggers and their readers are just so darn gorgeous in real life that the faces really made the entire night last night a real treat.

A real treat that was entirely made possible by the amazing Lynn from Diary of a Turtlehead. She really pulled off an awesome event. There were 24 readers in total and the place was packed!

The faces behind the blogs: Cheeky, animated, earnest, radianting intelligence, curious and just plain beautiful. They were all there last night. And here are a few for you to enjoy as well….

Christine reading from Coffees and Commutes:

Katherine reading from Girl About O-town:

Nat reading from From Nat’s Brain:

Dani from Postcards from the Mothership:

Me, enjoying every single reading:

All photo credits belong to my brother Adam Harrison         who shares his thoughts and amazing photography from his recent travels on his blog Adam in Asia (Yes, that was my brother I was with last night… you know…just in case you thought my husband was 27-years old).

Our first expedition with this clunking announcement of parenthood was to Algonquin Park. We spent a weekend at Achray, and it was wonderful. It really renewed my faith that perhaps I would once again enjoy camping. We could use the pop-up tent trailer just until the kids got older and strong enough to canoe and portage with us. It would all be okay. (Well, actually, I knew that everyone in the family would like camping regardless … who’s kidding who — it was all about me. Stella’s been a regular camper well before she was out of diapers, but always with her father. You can read her great tips for camping with kids here on the Kids in the Capital site.) 

This is what the view looked like from our camping site at Achray, Algonquin Park:

With such a great start to our new life as “family campers,” we were keen to head out again. On the Thursday night before the May long weekend, we had not found time to plan anything but felt like taking off. We did a very quick google search for a camp ground in the Lake Placid area. I had fallen in love with this area during the winter and I was keen to go back during warmer weather. Our google search led us to a style of camping we had never done: the “ultra-campground.” These campgrounds were huge, had paved roads to the sites, an outdoor pool, a children’s playground, hot showers and flush toilets. Hubby hesitated; I said: “Come on! It’ll be fun! It’s not our style but the kids will love it.” So we booked it.

And this is what the view looked like from our site at the North Pole Campground in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State:

I think you’ll agree that both settings look beautiful. But there was a vast difference in reality. What you can’t see in this photo is that there were people on sites in front and back of us, with only a mere few feet between. Also, while that water looks inviting, you couldn’t actually swim into the river from the campground — just look at it. To go for a hike, fish or swim, you had to leave the campground. So, really, there was not much to do with the children at the actual site itself. They got bored VERY quickly.

And what do children do when they get bored? Whine. (Whining is actually a “nice” way to describe the screechy phase my two-year-old son has stumbled into lately.) 

And who was in those camp sites in front and behind us? Other families, right? That’s what I would have thought … I mean, who in their right mind would choose to camp like this if not weighted down with diapers and other kid paraphernalia?

As it turns out, though, it was retired couples. Not only did this mean that our children had no playmates about, but that I immediately felt uncomfortable … other parents wouldn’t even notice if our children were loud or rambunctious, but the quiet couple sipping drinks next door? Oh my, I couldn’t help but think that I was ruining their weekend.

Since there was really nothing to do at the camp site itself, my kids were constantly wanting to go to the playground. And if I wanted to sit around a playground all weekend, I would have stayed home! If I’m going to go through the hassle of packing up to go camping, I want to be surrounded by nature. I don’t want to have to walk along a highway to get to nature, I don’t want to have to get in the car to get to nature, and I don’t want to worry that my kids’ natural noise-levels are disturbing other people.

Now, that was my experience in an “ultra-campground.” The North Pole campground itself was top-notch: spotlessly clean, with friendly, helpful staff. But it wasn’t for me. At all.

I was miserable. So much so, that we packed up and drove home a day early.

I have since spent every spare moment re-planning our summer vacation. There is simply no way in hell that I am spending my summer vacation — my first vacation in over a year and a half — road-tripping with our tent-trailer, as originally planned. And I’m getting no complaints because NO ONE wants to be with me when I’m miserable!

This constant barrage of criticism can’t be good for my mental health, can it? Even though I can intellectually reject it, messages can still creep into my subconscious.

And if it’s not good for my mental health, then I certainly don’t want to expose my daughter (and son!) to it either. But wait … is it actually possible for her to avoid this kind of exposure? I can limit it but I cannot stop these commercials from reaching her at some point.

This is something that my husband and I have, regretably, had to accept. We’ve decided that it is more effective to teach our children how to think critically and challenge what it presented to them, than to  spend all of our efforts ensuring that they are not exposed to this kind of mass-manipulation.

So if the television is on in our house and the woman on the television is telling me how to lose weight before bathing suit season, I will talk back to her: “Oh, shut up! I am fine the way I am and diets are unhealthy. You just want my money!” Or alternatively, “What’s wrong with the wrinkles around my eyes? They’re natural. It’s just something that happens when you age. Stop trying to sell me your stupid creams! And how come you don’t try and sell these creams to men, huh?” 

I just thought you should know in case you drop by one day and find me talking to myself. Or yelling.

And also because I just found a gem of a woman named Sarah Haskins (thanks to Margot Magowan and About Face) and she does a tremendous job and breaking down the marketing techniques that specifically target women. Here is one of my favourites, titled “Target Women: Feeding your Family”:

Other great topics that she covers include: Disney Princesses, Cleaning Products, Yogurt, and Skin Care Science and even Vampires. I think her videos could be a great tool for parents who want to challenge media messages with their tweens and teenagers since she manages to combine a critical eye with wit and some well-chosen snark.

What do you think … did they give you a chuckle? did they make you think twice about how a commercial is manipulating you? And how does a woman manage to maintain any self-esteem these days when we’re faced with critical messaging all around us?

I’ve gotta go now. It’s bathing suit season around the corner and I need to go feed myself a liquid meal.   :P

You know when you sent me that email chain letter that said we would all have bad luck if I didn’t forward it on? Well, I deleted it. And that one where if I didn’t send it on to my seven dearest friends, they would never know how much I cared? Deleted. That internet meme that I you sent with best intentions? Sorry, deleted. Even that chain letter full of stickers for your kids’ friends? Yes, I’m the bad guy who broke the chain.

I just can’t do them. I don’t know what it is … it could be that it’s the sniff of guilt attached to them, or perhaps the thought of dropping another item on to someone else’s to-do list. Or maybe I’m just a party pooper. (That’s a good possibility, actually.)

In any case, I received a chain email letter this morning from my step father-in-law. It was about a woman named Irena Sendler. And it warmed the heart of even this, the grouchiest of chain-letter party poopers, enough that I am going to share it with you.

So, without further ado, here it is:

The prize doesn’t always go to the most deserving!!!

There  recently was a death of a 98 year-old lady named Irena Sendler. During  WWII, Irena, got permission to work in the WarsawGhetto, as a  Plumbing/Sewer specialist. She had an ‘ulterior motive’ … She  KNEW what the Nazi’s plans were for the Jews, (being German.)  Irena smuggled infants out in the bottom of the tool box she  carried and she carried in the back of her truck a burlap sack,  (for larger kids.) She also had a dog in the back that she  trained to bark when the Nazi soldiers let her in and out of the  ghetto. The soldiers of course wanted nothing to do with the dog  and the barking covered the kids/infants noises.. During her time  of doing this, she managed to smuggle out and save 2500  kids/infants. She was caught, and the Nazi’s broke both her legs,  arms and beat her severely. Irena kept a record of the names of  all the kids she smuggled out and kept them in a glass jar, buried  under a tree in her back yard. After the war, she tried to locate  any parents that may have survived it and reunited the family.  Most had been gassed. Those kids she helped got placed into foster  family homes or adopted.

Last year  Irena was up for the Nobel Peace Prize …. She was not  selected. Al Gore won, for a slide show on Global  Warming. 

It is now more than  60 years after the Second World War in Europe ended. This e-mail is being sent as a  memorial chain, in memory of the six million Jews, 20 million  Russians, 10 million Christians and 1,900 Catholic priests who  were murdered, massacred, raped, burned, starved and  humiliated!

You can read more about Irena Sendler on Wikipedia, a site titled Holocaust: Crimes, Heros and Villains, and Life in a Jar: The Irena Sendler Project. Reading more about her, it is impossible not to be touched by her strength and courage. And yet, she was such a humble person. Before her death, she was honoured at a ceremony in 2007. She was too frail to attend, but she sent a letter. This passage, quoted in the United Kingdom’s newspaper the Telegraph, stuck me most:

“Every child saved with my help is the justification of my existence on this Earth, and not a title to glory.” — Irena Sendler

Here I am with Joanne Harris, author of one of my favourite books Five Quarters of the Orange but most famously known for her novel Chocolat, which was made into the Oscar-nominated film with Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche. I recently had the chance to hear her read from her latest offering blueeyedboy when she came to Ottawa as a guest for Writers Fest. She was part of a series of events that Writers Fest puts on called The Writing Life.

As for me, I don’t think I have what it takes to be a novelist, but I like to lurk around these kinds of events and imagine that it’s possible. And I’m sharing my thoughts on this today at Life As A Human.

Please click here to read them and let me know what you think makes a novelist, a novelist.

This photo was generously taken and shared with me by a local photographer at the event. His name is John W MacDonald and you can check out his work here.

When I first started blogging one year ago, I didn’t — and couldn’t — have known what to expect. But BOLO left me feeling very optimistic about it all.

It seems that blogging is one of those things that, like becoming a parent, you just have to do it order to really understand it. And although I have a much better understanding now than I did one year ago, I still have so much learning to do. (Again, just like parenting!)

It seems apt then that I am now reading a novel that is written as a series of blog entries. Other authors have done this in a more fun and light-hearted way, like Kathy Buckworth’s novel The BlackBerry Diaires, but this book, blueeyedboyby Joanne Harris is quite the contrary. Here is how the protagonist, blueeyedboy, describes the WebJournal that he participates in:

On WeJay I can vent as I please, confess without fear of censure; be myself — or indeed, someone else — in a world where no one is quite what they seem, and where every member of every tribe is free to do what they most desire.

Tribe? Yes, everyone here has a tribe; each with its divisions and subdivisions, binary veins and capillaries branching out into a near-infinity of permutations as they distance themselves from the mainstream.

Although dark, this description isn’t exactly in-accurate. We all know there are some seedy sides to the internet. Perhaps naively, I do like to believe that there are more positive than negative sides to engaging on the internet. I have to admit that I’ve stumbled once or twice though. I’ve tried to join in on some ”tribes” and found that my voice is simply not welcomed in that community or on that specific blog. But I think I’ve concluded that those particular tribes exist to preach to the converted, not to engage with others outside of their tribe. It’s been a learning experience.

And that’s okay, because I am learning.

I’m learning that writing for myself (not just for my clients) gives me a really enjoyable feeling of satisfaction. Almost a high. And that the more often that I write, the easier it is to write. I think what I’m finding out about the act of blogging and being part of a blogging community has been best described recently by Christine on Coffees and Commutes in her post “Blogging: Conversations in Happiness and More“:

And that’s what comes from this place, a renewed desire to discuss issues, to think and write about life, and the things that make me happy and unhappy. Perhaps a luxury, but one I craved. I needed an outlet where I could connect with like-minded women who think and worry about the same things. I can see the future, the places this might take me and it excites me. As long as I stay true to what this is, focus on the writing, the connections and less on the hype.

Christine does describes a “tribe” of sorts – like-minded women who think and worry about the same things. But unlike blueeyedboy, there is no artifice. No pseudonym, no desire to actually distance herself from society. That feels right to me. And I like feeling like I belong in her tribe.

I hope that I can offer a similar experience here on my blog. I want this to be a place where you can sit and have a coffee break during work or a child’s nap (or simply to join me in procrastinating from doing the laundry!). A place where you can feel free to join in the conversation and share your point of view.

So far, I think it’s working out that way. (Do you?) And that makes me happy. Happy bloggy-versary!

And happy bloggy-versary to everyone of you who has stopped by to have a coffee and maybe even leave a comment or two. I’m grateful for the company and  I look forward to another year of the same!

One of the first things I learned is that Ottawa has a campground smack in the middle of the suburbs, and this is where the festival was held.  It’s a really nice campground too! Each site is surrounded by trees to provide privacy, and there are public washroom blocks and a playground area for children. So if you have out-of-town friends stopping in to see you while they’re on a road trip this summer, this is definitely an affordable option.

The next thing I learned is that “Odawa” is “Ottawa” in native language and that there is also an Ottawa tribe. According to the Native Languages of America website,  the Ottawa tribe is generally considered to be an offshoot of the Ojibwe tribe and that today, there are 15,000 Ottawas living in Michigan, Ontario, and Oklahoma. The Canadian Encyclopedia site, however, notes “that because the Ottawa tended to settle in mixed communities, it is difficult to state population figures. Many Ottawa descendants are identified as Ojibwa or Potawatomi.”

A young Odawa Festival attendee meets a new friend from one of the craft stalls.

In speaking with some of the people who had booths at the festival, we were surprised to learn that some had travelled from as far Manitoulin Island, Northern Ontario.  But this information, also from the Canadian Encyclopedia site, provided some clarity for me:

Ottawa (or Odawa) were an Algonquian-speaking people living north of the Huron people at the time of French penetration to the Upper Great Lakes. A tradition of the Ottawa, shared by the Ojibwa and Potawatomi, states that these 3 groups were once one people.

The Ottawa were closely tied to their Huron neighbours and, in fact, were a vital part of the so-called “Huron Trading Empire.” When Huronia was destroyed by the Iroquois in the mid-17th century, the Ottawa fled west. After 2 decades they were back on Manitoulin Island, but they continued to occupy settlements elsewhere on the shores of the Great Lakes.

I also figured out why I heard many people speaking French and why so many of the food tents offered poutine (my fave food!) in addition to fare considered more traditional such as buffalo and moose meat:

They located their principal settlements near the French fort at Michilimackinac, though many migrated to the Detroit area when the French built a fort there in 1701. During the final struggle for northeastern North America, the Ottawa supported the French.

The Pow Wow is the big draw forthe Odawa Festival, which is hosted by the Odawa Native Friendship Centre to celebrate Aboriginal culture (including Metis and Inuit). In my experience, the word “pow wow” is often used interchangeably in English as “meeting,” but the more comprehensive definition of a Pow Wow is a  event where both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal North-American people meet to dance, sing, socialize, and honor the Aboriginal culture.

This Wikipedia entry describes what takes place at the opening of a Pow Wow:

A pow-wow session begins with the Grand Entry and, in most cases, a prayer. The Eagle Staff leads the Grand Entry, followed by flags, then the dancers, while one of the host drums sings an opening song. This event is sacred in nature, some pow-wows do not allow filming or photography during this time, though others allow it.

If military veterans or active duty soldiers are present, they often carry the flags and eagle staffs. They are followed by the head dancers, then the remaining dancers usually enter the arena in a specific order: Men’s Traditional, Men’s Grass Dance, Men’s Fancy, Women’s Traditional, Women’s Jingle, and Women’s Fancy. Teens and small children then follow in the same order.

And this is exactly what happened at the Odawa Festival when we were there. The music for Pow Wow is provided by a group of performers who play large, specially designed drums made from moose raw-hide and sing traditional songs. The number of players on one drum may vary, but is usually at least four people. For me, this combination of beautiful, colourful costumes with drum beat is irresistibly captivating.

Yet, somehow, the children in our crew did not feel the same. They were extremely eager to continue exploring all of the craft tents. And really, it was hard to blame them.

The crafts on display included jewelry, dreamcatchers, drums and artwork.

Many thanks to the Odawa Native Friendship Centre and everyone we had a chance to meet and speak with for a WONDERFUL afternoon!  

Photo credits: The two images of dances are courtesy of the Odawa Native Friendship Centre website.

We’ve had some really horrific and tragic bike accidents in our city as of late.

People have always commuted to work by bike in Ottawa, Canada’s capital. In fact, I distinctly remember my father biking to work every day from our family’s westend home in the suburbs to downtown.

But, now more than ever, we need more cyclists. The environment needs it, our bodies need it, and our children need the role-modelling.

Unfortunately, our city has a lot of work to do before it can be considered cyclist-friendly. In fact, it’s down-right dangerous to even attempt to bike in certain areas of the city. And many cycling enthusiasts, quite rightly, note that motorists are a big part of the problem.

As for me, I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid. And even then, it was only around the block.

My seven-year-old daughter, though, just learned how to bike this season on her two-wheeler. And wow! Kids sure learn fast. She has really mastered the skill so quickly. So much so that she has been asking to bike to school now. Despite the hyper-parenting that is a bit pervasive these days, our neighbourhood does have quite a few kids who regularly commute to school on bikes.  Which I think is wonderful.

Stella is a bit young to be commuting on her though. So I have been contemplating a bike purchase. Mostly, I’m tempted by the retro bikes with their fun styling and cute baskets on the front. (It’s all about packaging, isn’t it?) They’re not exactly cheap though and I’d hate for the purchase price to end up being used as much as my gym membership (ahem, that is, not much).

Luck shone on us about a week ago with a bike sitting on the edge of the street with a “free” sign. Sure, it doesn’t have a cute banana seat or even any cute paint colours, but it works just fine.

So twice a week now, I’ve been biking in with Stella to school and then I bike back home and do the same at the end of the day. For me, it’s some fresh air. For her, she escapes the dreaded bus ride in the heat.

The kids we see biking along the way all look like proficient bikers. And although they are dutifully wearing their helmets, I fear for their safety.

Why? Well, it seems that they have no clue what the rules of the road are. I have yet to see one of these children use a hand signal and most cross over a road without even turning over their shoulder to check for cars.

If we want to encourage a future generation of happy cycling commuters, it’s going to take more than just a widening of roads and an awareness campaign directed at motorists. We need to make sure that, as cyclists, we’re doing our part to be good citizens of the road.

With this in mind then, I’d like to share some resources for bike safety. If you’re like me, biking was from when you had a pig-tails, so who couldn’t use a little refresher for sharing with their children?

First of all, cyclists need to follow the rules of the road.

I like Ken Kifer’s site because he provides information without fear-mongering about the dangers of cycling. He notes that most of the collisions involving bicycles occurred because the bike rider did not follow the traffic laws for vehicles. On this page, he provides advice for teaching children the rules according to their age. I thought it was quite helpful.  

This Young Cyclist’s Guide on the Ontario Transportationwebsite runs through all the safety rules and even provides quizzes for your child to complete.

And just as we expect a car to signal, bikers must also use signals. Here are the hand signals for RIGHT TURN, LEFT TURN, and STOP.

So, let’s not keep our kids locked up in our back yards. Let’s let them have some fun — but prepare them and keep them them safe! Happy biking to all!

Do you let your children bike to school alone? What about around the neighbourhood? Have you had to brake quickly to avoid a child cutting in front of you on their bike?

If you enjoyed this post, please consider giving me your vote! I’m a finalist in the Scholastic Parent and Child 2010 Blogger Awards!

But something else that is beautiful has taken place recently. When it comes to reading, Stella is now “Mommy’s little girl.” Just as the outdoors brings a sense of inspiration and peace to my husband, this has always been what reading has provided to me. So I am just thrilled that her life now includes the joy of reading.

I’ve kept two series of chapter books from my childhood: The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis and the Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Both were boxed sets, which made them extra-special gifts at the time. I have no functional use for keeping them all these years; they sit as purely sentimental mementos in my book shelf.

In the meantime of course, I’ve had a daughter. A daughter who now knows how to read. But her tastes have led to tear through Pokemon, Gerinomo Stilton and Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. My cherished box sets from youth must seem old-fashioned, with their faded covers and black and white interiors, and so they continue to sit quietly in my shelf.

But the other day, she began to tell me about a book called Narnia that she saw at her school library. “There was a lion, a witch, and a bathrobe,” she told me straight-faced. But not even “the bathrobe” could distract me from my opportunity to regale her with the book’s merits. I explained that the last word in the title was “wardrobe” and that it was a cupboard where people kept their clothes when they didn’t have a closet in their bedroom.

And then I pounced: “You know, all sorts of magical things happen in that series of books. I just loved it when I was your age. I think I may even have those books still. Hmmmm….. let me look …”

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This is the book that Stella found at her school library called Narnia. It was published to tie-in with the film that appeared in theatres in 2005. I have not read it myself, or even seen it with my own eyes, but apparently the visuals are very appealing to children and the language and plot have been modified for the same reason. (It’s received excellent reader reviews on the Chapters-Indigo Canada website and retails for $8.99.)

If you’re not familiar with series, it all starts off with Lucy and her siblings Peter, Susan and Edmund. They are sent to live in the house of an old Professor in the London country to keep them safe during the war. In this large house, Lucy finds that when she hides in a wardrobe, the back of it is actually an entrance to an enchanted land called Narnia. The first book in the series The Chronicles of Narnia is the most famous and it is titled The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. In it, Aslan, the noble lion, frees Narnia from the spell of the White Witch.

I just adore the forward that the author, C.S. Lewis, wrote for his much-loved book, which was first published in 1950. It is inscribed to Lucy Barfield, his Goddaughter.

My dear Lucy,
I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but it shall still be.
Your affectionate Godfather,
C.S. Lewis 

This is what my boxed set looks like, published by Collier Books in second edition in 1978.  Each book has a price of $1.95 in the top right-hand corner. The only pictures inside each book are small black and white illustrations at the start of each chapter.

And you can still buy a beautiful boxed set too! Chapters-Indigo Canada offers a Harpers Collins Canada set with full-color illustrations by Pauline Baynes with original cover art from the Puffin editions, which were published only in the UK in the 1950s ($54.77), while my readers in the U.S. might prefer to order from The Scholastic Store, which sells  similarly lovely set of the seven tales ($40 US). Of note is that no matter where you live, the Scholastic website for parents offers a great discussion guide for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe that you can use to chat about the book with your child as well as a Parent’s Guide to the Fantasy Book Genre.

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I pulled out my box set for Stella. This is the Chronicles of Narnia, I explained in a hushed tone probably more commonly used for emphasis on made-for-tv movies. These are the original books that the author wrote, and that Mommy loved, I continued.

Her interest was piqued. She took the first book and tentatively flipped through the pages. Then she wandered off.

Later, as I walked up the stairs, I could see her laying in bed, nose-deep into the novel. It was past her bedtime, the teeth hadn’t been brushed, and no bedtime rituals had been complete. I quietly tip-toed back down the stairs.

She’d found it! That sweet spot. For as any bookroom knows, the big “o” of reading is when you start into a book and within pages you literally cannot put it down. It is always on your mind … you’re just dying to continue onwards through the pages and find out what happens. You’ll deny yourself food, sleep – whatever it takes – to just keep reading. Until one experiences that sensation, one has not experienced the true joy of reading.

Later. Much later. I went upstairs to turn out her light and tuck her in. She’d fallen asleep with the book beside her. And I could see there was only a sliver of pages left to be read. I leaned over and whispered, “Just like Momma,” and gave her a kiss goodnight.

I was inspired to write this post because I just found out over the weekend that this blog has been chosen by the editors of Scholastic Parent and Child magazine as a finalist for their 2010 Parent Blogger Awards.

Needless to say, I’m thrilled! If you would like to vote for my blog, just click here. Voting starts today! (It’s painless, I promise!)

Um. Where was I? Ah yes, I was at a vernissage. Which is the opening of an art exhibit and it’s the fun part because the artist is there and you get to drink champagne and munch on yummy tidbits and stare at beautiful things on the walls. So, I’m standing there in a beautiful home, sipping bubbly and life is grand — except that I am itchy. Every single mosquito that has managed to make it indoors is giddily swarming around me. I’m not joking. People were actaully commenting on it. And it’s not that I actually mind the swarming part, it’s the itch of course.

This situation seemed to sum up how I’ve been feeling lately. Everything is so good — family, home, work. But, for some reason, I feel itchy. And when I look around, no one else around seems to be itching. Just me.

In trying to describe this in conversations to friends, I have wondered out loud if this is what a “mid-life crisis” feels like. But no one answers my question because they get so distracted by the term “mid-life” and feel this insane urge to convince me that I have not, in fact, hit the middle of my life. Which I think is really silly. Because, really? How old does the average person live? I think it is so delusional when people insist that “mid-life” is 50. I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to live to 100.

In case this notion of “mid-life” disturbs you as well, I’ll use the term “itchy” instead.

I seem to have an itch I can’t scratch. And why can’t I scratch it? Because I just don’t know what it is! Where it’s coming from, or why.

Here are ways that I have been trying to locate the itch:

• I have been scouring the real esate market. Perhaps I need to live closer to “the action” — closer to the city centre.
• I’ve considered giving up the home office life and working for someone else (other than my clients!). Maybe I need back into the daily action of office life?
• I’ve bought myself an entirely new spring wardrobe thinking that I just needed “a little lift.” At least the salespeople’s commission cheques won’t be itchy!
• I’ve even bought myself a new MAC lipstick.

And still?

Itchy.

So, what IS this feeling … spring fever? Mid-life crisis? Or is it a real, concrete need for change?

Tell me, do you ever feel like this? What do you do to scratch an itch? Should I just leave good enough alone or jump headfirst into a life change?

The risk is so high, in fact, that according to its Cancer Council two in every three Australians will develop skin cancer before the age of 70. More than 440,000 Australians are diagnosed with skin cancer every year – 374,000 with non-melanoma skin cancer and 10,600 with melanoma.  In total, more than 1,600 Australians die from skin cancer each year.

Not surprisingly then, the government of Australia has embarked on a social awareness campaign about the dangers of sun exposure and how to prevent skin cancer. But I think many Canadians would find the actual campaigns surprisingly graphic. I know that we sure did at least.

Here is a sample television ad. (Warning: Not appropriate for children. Graphic scenes.)

That particular ad is from the real life of a 22-year-old Australian, while this one is of a 26-year-old.

If you knew a young person dying from skin cancer, it would be hard not to take sun protection seriously. And, sadly, we do. We have a family friend in Australia who has been given a terminal diagnosis from skin cancer. So, yes, we were deadly serious about sun exposure while in the land down under.

But now that we’re back in Canada, do we really need to worry about skin cancer? Compared to Australia, we hardly have a summer season at all!

Well, I checked the stats.

And apparently, skin cancer is alive and well in Canada. Believe it or not, skin cancer is actually is the most common cancer in Canada! I noted earlier that more than 1,600 Australians die annually from skin cancer. In Canada, this number is more than 900. Even in Ontario, where we live and which has a long winter season, melanoma is the second most common cancer in young adults (ages 15 to 34).

Now that I know these stats, I am not about to hide under a rock and live in fear. And our family will certainly be taking in as much of the summer that dear Ontario will grant us, that is for sure!

But we will continue to follow the prevention guidelines that were a part of our daily life in Australia:

• Slip on clothing
• Slop on some sunscreen
• Slap on a hat
• Seek out some shade
• Slide on some sunglasses

Is this a topic of interest to you? If yes, here are some more sources of information:

• What about Vitamin D? Here is information on ensuring you’re getting enough of this important vitamin.
• What about the safety of sunscreens? Here is an summary of what the Environmental Working Group considers to be the best and safest sunscreens.
• Looking for a local supplier of sun protection products? Ottawa’s Lilou Organics and Nayla Natural Care both carry sunscreen brands noted in the EWG list. And Moutain Equipment Co-op sells No-Zone swimwear in children and infant sizes.

May is Skin Cancer Awareness Month - pass it on!

The article I was reading had initially intrigued me because envy isn’t a common topic for Harvard Business Review, or business research in general for that matter. Also, I work in the area of organizational change management and I wondered if envy played a role in resistance to new ideas.

The authors, Tanya Menon and Leigh Thompson, present some very interesting ways in which envy does indeed affect a company’s performance and its employees receptiveness to change. But more helpfully, they also offer concrete steps to take in order to overcome envy’s damaging side effects, both as an individual but also as a team leader.

I think it’s no surprise to any of us that envy is not something one wants. It’s an unpleasant feeling and as Andrea states in her post:

In the first season of Glee, I found that Will (aka Mr. Shuester) shared many of my feelings of lingering doubt … Why did I never chase my dreams? What might have happened had I actually auditioned all those years ago?

Now, let me tell you, I did not relish the thought of being like Mr. Shuester. Quite the contrary. He seemed like a loser. A wanna-be who just never made it … [please click here to continue reading!]

You won’t want to miss tonight’s episode of Glee! Sue Sylvester’s video homage to Madonna’s “Vogue” airs at 9/8c!

People I know who don’t read my blog often ask me what it’s about, and why do I blog. But since you’re here, you likely already have a good understanding of the answer to those two questions. What it really comes down to is that blogging allows me to observe the human experience — in ways that I will never experience personally. There is simply no way that I can experience everything in my life. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to soak it up and explore it a bit anyhow. And I think that’s why so many bloggers are avid blog readers. It’s all about sharing stories. Giving stories a voice.

And I’m endlessly fascinated by how we each perceive our experience here on earth. From the minutia of everyday life as shared by a stay-at-home mother who is raising six children and the down-right-real notes from a recently laid-off professional to more philosophical, thought-provoking what-am-I-doing-here posts that include someone who’s been fighting cancer along with social injustices. That, and just pure entertainment value, of course.

You might recall me telling you that I signed on as a writer with the Life As A Human e-zine. With only two months under its belt, the team anticipates that the site will hit more than 100,000 page views for March alone. And I’m definitely one of those page viewers! Although I can’t claim to have read every single post, I rarely miss a day of checking-in and reading at least one.

And in this spirit of sharing stories, I thought I’d share a few of my favourites with you:

Grandkids: You just have to wait
I’ve been really enjoying the writing of Terry Hume. He’s a heavy duty mechanic with a knack for humorous writing. Try out this post and see if you laugh like I do!

Why I’m Really Running this Marathon
Victoria Klassen shares her grief and how it lives on within her. Try out this post and see if you don’t have tears streaming down your face like I did.

Coming Out: Revealing Secret Passions
Now that I’ve led you to laughter and tears, I’ll leave you feeling inspired! Schmutzie shares how it feels to finally take ownership of the label “writer.”

If you’ve got a post still ringing in your ears or scratching at your heart that you’d like to share, please leave a link in the comments so we can all enjoy it and add a new blogger to our reading.

The whole concept of hyper-parenting is never really far from my mind, actually. It’s something that I consciously, actively want to avoid doing to my children. And yet, it seems we live in a world where hyper-parenting is almost becoming the norm. Or at least that’s how I felt when I just completed this registration form for my daughter to play soccer this summer. Here’s some of the verbiage from the waiver I just signed to release the organization from any liability:

The risks and hazards include but are not limited to injuries from: [...] Grass, turf and other surfaces including bacterial infections and rashes; Falls to the ground due to uneven or irregular terrain or surfaces; collisions with walls and soccer equipment; Extreme weather conditions which may result in heatstroke, sunstroke or hypothermia; Contact, colliding or being struck by other participants [...] Experience anxiety while challenging himself/herself during the activities [...]

Surely, I’m not the only one laughing – or at least rolling their eyes – when filling out these forms, am I?

Oh yes, those nasty grass hazards! Good thing they warned me about that. Oh, wait — my child can trip and hurt themselves while playing a sport? — no way, I’m not signing her up now!

You know, I feel bad that this organization has had to protect itself in this manner from the parents of its participants. So, it seems like nice timing that my Hyper-parenting post has just been reposted on the “Blissfully Domestic” site on the same day that I’m signing these ridiculous forms.

I’m really interested to what comments come in because the majority of readers for this “coffee with Julie” blog are Canadian, whereas the majority of readers on “Blissfully Domestic” are American and likely did not see the documentary … will they agree that there is hyper-parenting going on in their country? Will they recount similar experiences to ours? You can follow along with the discussion too by clicking here.