A couple of my favorites from Adam’s flickr photostream…

From some flowers he bought me a little while ago. Awww… isn’t that sweet….

Welcome to the world, little one…

Love Aunt Tellie & Uncle Adam

Chuki turned 7 this past Wednesday, we think. He was a rescue kitten after-all, and we estimated his age at 8 weeks when we got him in July 28th, 2001, but later the vet thought he might have been 5 or 6 weeks (!) since his teeth were small and he was still suckling at our fingers, like he had been separated from his Mom before 8 weeks. We didn’t update his “birthday date” though, so May 28th it has been for the past 6 years.

Yeah, kitty birthdays are dumb to some people, but we don’t have any kids and have to take it out on someone.

We bought him some toys and a “Furminator” (found Via Mary-Robinette Kowal’s blog this weekend, more on that later) and I cracked out the bead case and made him a few new necklace collars. He liked the wooden bead one best, so he’s now sporting a fancy new collar for the summer months.

Then we ate 1 piece of cheese each and took birthday photos.

If you know what to look for, it’s not hard to spot us. Something like that leaves it’s mark, the ghost of a part of our lives when we knew that what we were doing mattered. The confidence of a soul that has been a pillar for someone, the strong one, the one that was there for them, cared for them, helped and guided them, and sadly, sometimes had to save them. I was a camp counselor for troubled kids.

It was the summers during my university degree that were filled with camp chants and group games. The 7 of us were the tightest set of co-workers I had ever been a part of (or have been since) and we were all in it because we wanted to be there. It had little to do with the paycheck; if it had we would all have been working somewhere else as almost every job at the time paid better than what we got. It wasn’t a summer job, it was who we were. We lived together, drank together, and dedicated every spare minute to making that camp spectacular for those kids because for many, we were the only ones who cared.

We all realized that a counselor has a unique role in a child’s life, and therefore a unique resposibility. We were not parents, not teachers. We were someone they have fun with and so more likely to be someone they would confess feelings, fears and issues to. We were also more than a peer, an adult who had the power to help them with these fears and issues. Because of this counselors are often the first one a child will finally tell when they need help or are in trouble and can’t go to anyone at home. It is rewarding, but sometimes it is horrifying. The first time I ever had to call child services I cried all night. My co-counselors cried with me.

With summer around the corner I have been thinking about camp a lot. I am happy as a Chemist, but I do miss the fun, the outdoors, the giant rubber water-balloon sligshot and, of course, the kids. Here is a little list for all of you counselors who do it because you care and you know that it is so much more important than “just a job.”

How To Tell If You Are a True Camp Counselor:

1. You would never, ever pack peanut butter in a bag lunch
2. You know how to stab an epi-pen
3. You know 7 different versions of the rules for Flags and which versions should be used when.
4. You have a bathing suit tan or a flip-flop tan in December
5. You unconsciously count the people you are with every 5 minutes as if you were making sure you had all of your campers. Your friends have stopped asking why you do this.
6. If you were a water instructor, it really bugs you to see people switching sides when they paddle a canoe
7. You can make up a game in under 1 minute using a bobby pin, three used coffee cups and a pen.
8. You have come home with paint in your ear at least once.
9. You have proudly worn a plastic lacing bracelet (or gimp, for the old schoolers) made by a camper out on a fancy dinner because you couldn’t untie it, but wouldn’t think of cutting it off.
10. You have played at least one camp game in a bar with friends.

There are oh, so many more. Feel free to add yours in the comments. And long live camp.

Adam and Braeden in Sarnia last weekend.

A fun Sunday. Adam, Colin, Emily and I went to the Sky-dome (I refuse to call it the Roger’s Center) for the first time in a long time. We got to see the Jays Sweep the Red Sox (but I secretly kind of like the Red Sox) and watch Frank Thomas pull off a pretty nice Grand Slam Home-run.

We thought going to the Sunday game would be better since Friday was Colin’s Athletic Therapy Banquet and there may have been some hang-overs on Saturday. But then we proceeded to have a jam session on Saturday night which led to wine and 4 cases of beer, so Sunday was a bit rough anyway, as Emily demonstrates on the train home. More pictures here.

St Peter’s Cathedral - Where Adam & I were married, Oct 21, 2006

When planning decorations for the reception it was important that we included items that would beautify the room, but also items that would be interesting, entertaining or treasured to our guests, and one of the simplest ways was to use treasured photographs as a decorating medium. We used the photographs in a number of ways, and collecting them all was tricky as we had to dig quite deep to attain a few of them, but the result was a display that was not only beautiful and in-keeping with our theme of vintage romantic, it was interesting to guests to peruse our collected pictures and remember people,places and times they knew.

The Key Players: The first set of photos I gathered was a baby photo of Adam, of me, of each of my parents and of each of his. These were each placed in vintage-type frames from the dollar store and labeled little tags that said “Bride” “Groom” “Mother of the Bride” “Father of the Bride” “Mother of the Groom” and “Father of the Groom” in the same font used for all other wedding stationary. These were set on the presentation table as people walked in, beside the board with the escort cards.

(more…)

I’ve been tagged by Stormy Designs to share 7 facts about myself. Last time I got tagged I waited too long and then forgot who tagged me, so I better do this one before I forget again.

1. My favorite food is berries of any kind.
2. I cover my ears in scary movies.
3. I put ketchup in Lipton Chicken Noodle soup and have since I was little.
4. When I was 12, I broke my arm when I fell asleep while riding my bike. (What? It was a really long downhill coast and I was tired!)
5. I have walked on top of the Green Monster at Fenway Park.
6. I hate black licorice. Like barf-hate.
7. I started to stain the unfinished wood stairs down to the dungeon studio, but got distracted after one stair. The cat won’t step on that one stair now, for some reason.

Adam asked me to note that he gave me most if these answers because I couldn’t think of any except the first one.

Here are the 7 people that I’m tagging:

um. I don’t actually know who to tag - I tagged everyone who would do this the last few times I did this and now I am out of people, and I am too shy to tag people I don’t know. So, if you read this and want to participate you can consider yourself tagged by me! Passive tagging.

Here is what to do:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

At first, it was hard to work out how to feel about it all, until I stopped trying to figure out how to feel and just let myself feel whatever emotion came. The first emotion to come was sadness and a deep sense of loss. Trying to tell myself it was impossible to miss something you never had was pointless, because the hopes and dreams we had for the little life in me were so strong it felt like they had crossed the barrier from intangible thoughts into real things, something we could see and touch… and lose. It was our first one, the first pregnancy, and it was jarring to see the ball we had started rolling toward making our own little family stop suddenly at the crest of the hill.

I ran the gambit of emotions then: guilt, despite being told that a life lost this early was a life doomed from conception by its own genetic code; apprehension, about what was to come next, medically and emotionally; surprise, at the number of women I know who have endured the same and were able to share; gratitude, toward the family & friends who offered support and advice; acceptance, that this was not avoidable and fated in the stars, or the genes or the heavens or wherever this stuff is decided, and finally, determination to not let this set back our plans for a family any longer than medically necessary which sounds clinical, but it helped to have a “goal.”

So I guess this post probably explains my blogging absence over the last few weeks, but now that things are clearer I want to share as much of my experience as I can for those enduring the same. I am the type of person who will Google something to like this to learn about other’s experiences and the stories I read did me good so I would like to post my own and offer a forum for others to comment on anything sort of related. Since all the girly details are not for the faint of heart, I’ll be posting my stories about the medical and emotional progression on a separate page, apart from the main blog and will post the link once I get it up and running. I encourage everyone who wants (warning boys, if you pale at the word “menstruation” you’d better stick with the TSN website) to post their comments or stories too.

One night, about 7 years ago, while crying on Sarah’s shoulder about a break-up (or some similar teenage tragedy) so said a simple thing to me: “It gets better.” That was all, but it was the most encouraging thing to hear while my head was full and my heart was sad and it felt like it would hurt forever. I had already heard countless encouraging comments from everyone but this simple thought stuck on because it was simply stated enough to poke through my grief-induced stupor, and because when you feel sad it feels like it will never end and that is scarier than the loss itself. So I repeated to myself “It’ll get better.” And it did. Hang in there.

We put the tree up this weekend, mostly because we are feeling holiday nostalgia since at this time last year we were walking into Disneyworld when it was fully decked out in holiday decor. They don’t do anything halfway and I was overwhelmed by the lights, music, trees and general holiday mayhem. What a way for someone to experience Disney for the first time, especially someone who likes Christmas as much as I do.

The holidays have been getting a bad rap for the past few years and I have to tell you, I don’t buy into it. Sure, companies make a ton of money during the holidays, but Christmas is what YOU make it. No one is going to make you buy all that crap you see in the stores, no one can force you to care more about your presents’ price than it’s intent. I think it’s fun to go to the mall and listen to the music and look at the elaborate displays, and I am not going to let the fact that those displays are intended to lure me into shopping ruin the fact that they are fun to look at. I love holidays because everyone gets into it, for their own reasons to be sure, but apathy has trouble finding a home this season. There are so many stories, so many moments during the holidays that make you smile, remember, appreciate who you are with - what can be bad about a season that does all that?

I guess it is about the way I was raised. Christmas dinner is more important to me than the gifts, even though Tia and I were blessed with generous parents and did get a bit spoiled in the gift department. I think if you want to capture the spirit of Christmas and teach your children to appreciate something other than the price tag you have to start inside your family, not outside of it by passing the buck and blaming the corporations. A Christmas full of traditions (the wackier the better) and family gatherings, of spending time with your kids by going skating, or shopping, or just playing in the snow - those are the things that will end the commercialism and bring back a wholesome Christmas. We are really good at blaming others, but for this we need to start in our own backyard.

Anyways, here are some beautiful pictures Adam took of our tree (of course, only one shot of the whole tree, and one of the glass bulb I broke). If you are wondering why it looks shorter this year we had to leave the base off or else it covered the TV and half the room. Once we win the lottery and have a gigantic mansion we can use the whole tree again in all its 8-foot-what-were-we-thinking-buying-a-tree-that-damn-big-in-the-first-place glory.