LEST WE FORGET

Lest we forget, we are often reminded. Remember those who have sacrificed so much for our country they say. So I oblige. Like many Canadians, I dutifully don my poppy over my heart each November, take a moment to reflect at the sacrifices made and the lives lost, and shed a tear each time I watch the body of a solider proceed down the Highway of Heroes. Until recently however, the death of a soldier did not impact me on a personal level. All this changed yesterday.

I was extremely saddened to hear that the latest Canadian soldier killed in the line of duty was the 21 year old son of a former co-worker. Cpl. Darren Fitzpatrick was grievously injured when an IED exploded and left him with massive trauma to his lower body. He died on the weekend in an Edmonton hospital with his family by his side. It was his first tour of duty.

Cpl. Fitzpatrick was in Afghanistan defending the right to freedom, democracy, human rights and the rule of law. I think it takes an amazing person to put themselves in harms way in order to defend these rights and freedoms, especially in a faraway land.

Cpl. Fitzpatrick's untimely death puts a face and a familiarity on war that I have never experienced before. When I look at pictures of Darren, I am reminded that he was not only a soldier but a son, brother, grandson, cousin, nephew and friend. Although I never met him, the outpouring of love and support from the community, speaks volumes about what an amazing person this young man was. I hardly slept a wink last night thinking about Darren and the ultimate sacrifice he made. I was also thinking of the hidden casualties - Darren's family and friends - and the unbearable pain that they must now endure.

From this day forward, I will no longer look at the photo of a fallen soldier in a one-dimensional manner. I will be reminded that they are someone's child, parent, sibling, friend. I will remember to be truly grateful to not only them but their families as well.

So tonight, when I am spending time with my family, I will reflect on the fact that Cpl. Fitzpatrick is no longer with us and that he, as others before him, died so that I can enjoy the privilege of spending time with my family in safety and peace.

Cpl. Darren Fitzpatrick

Soldier

Son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, friend

HERO

FEBRUARY - BLAH!

Oh, how I hate February!! It makes no difference that it's 28 days long most years, I still hate it. Hate is a strong word you say?? Well, in my defense there really is no better way to say it.

Why do I hate February you ask? (Thanks for asking by the way!) While January is snowy and cold at least it has character. February is usually gray and dull. With much of the snow melted, everything looks dirty and lifeless. My friend Lynn put it best when she said, "I'm tired of living in gray scale."

The weather is only the icing on the not so tasty cake. This month has been one full of stress, sickness and a general feeling of blah. All month, I have been completely unmotivated. Sure I still get things accomplished, but my activity level is about half of what it usually is. I feel like I am moving in slow-motion and that everyone is buzzing busily around me. To elaborate slightly, February has sucked the emotion from my soul. Yes, if February had a form it would be a Dementor - a soul sucking month considered to be the most foul of all months.

I don't care what the experts say, you can't escape February. There are hundreds of tips for overcoming the February blues, all of which seem to push me a little further into the abyss. I'm afraid such sage advice as "exercise" or "bliss out" or "establish goals" all make me want to punch the "in training" kid at Tim Hortons in the throat a little harder than I wanted to before. These helpful tips were obviously written by someone sprawled out on a beach chair, drink in hand, overlooking the Mediterranean.

There is a bright spot however. March is on the horizon with its promise of Roll Up The Rim and Prelonniepalooza. So bite me February!! You are just about gone for one more year and I shall emerge relatively unscathed and stronger for my struggles and you and your misery shall be forgotten in no time.

BLOOM

You can't mistake a sunflower. How lovely is this flower with beauty that has captured the sun of a hundred sunny days? But the true beauty of a sunflower is not in its petals but rather in its spirit. Requiring little nourishment, the sunflower grows into one of the mightiest and brightest flowers in the garden.

I remember my surprise when I discovered a sunflower growing from discarded birdseed in the toughest of clay under our May tree. Such a kinship I felt with that little sunflower! I was on a rather tough journey at the time and that little sunflower reminded me of the need to bloom where I was planted. The lesson of the little sunflower has stayed with me over the years - whether it is the most fertile of soil or the toughest of clay, I must turn my face toward the sun and bloom. Bloom Sunflower Girl. Bloom.

POWDER TO THE PEOPLE!

What a day!! Saturday was our first trip to Hudson Bay Mountain in Smithers. It was the perfect day for snowboarding. The conditions were amazing with a 4' base, fresh powder and spring temperatures. The kids were so pumped to get on the mountain.

I must admit that the first run was a little daunting. It was hard to keep up to the rest of the gang. I always marvel at how fast the kids go and how unafraid they are. They could not go fast enough. I always try my best to keep up, but I just cannot bring myself to go down the mountain in a straight line. I'm always reminded of the old adage, the bigger they are, the harder they fall!! Of course, there is my expression, the older you are, the easier you break.

It was nice to have a family day together. Now that the kids are getting older, these days are becoming fewer and farther between. It's not easy to find something that we all like to do that will work with everyone's schedules. I cherish these times with my family!! We had a lot of laughs on Saturday, enjoyed the beautiful scenery and had one heck of a workout. It was the most fun we've had this winter!!

Dylan and I gearing up for our next run!

My world!

Smithers townsite from the triple chair.

DORK IN DISGUISE

Reading through my old journals recently, I realized that I have not always been the ubercool person that my kids think I am (drop me off at the corner, puh-lease!!). I guess you could say I was a dork growing up. I cringe reading my angst-filled entries on being left out of a clique, not being invited to the party of the season, and wondering where to sit in the cafeteria. Photos of my teenage self only confirm this. Dressed in some of the most tragic outfits the 80's had to offer, I stand smiling in all of my dork glory. I always longed to be the popular girl but it was not in the cards for me. Grasping the latest fashion trends in an effort to fit the mold, usually ended up with me looking like an unfortunate collage of fashion don'ts.

I remember one day, not long ago, a colleague said, "I bet you've always been a Barbie." I don't know what made me laugh harder, the fact that she thought I was a Barbie now or the fact that she thought I was a Barbie in highschool. I thought to myself, if I'm a Barbie, then I'm in disguise (albeit not a very clever one), because I am and always will be a total dork.

Turning 40 was a milestone that allowed me to embrace my dorkiness. I no longer care if I fit the mold (boots with yoga pants?), sing for all to hear (Gawd, mom. Honestly!), trip walking into the mall (I'm heeere!), or say the wrong thing (my special gift). I don't worry about the fact that my kids are easily mortified or that they can't believe from which they came. Not at all. Now I just laugh. Laugh because in 41 years, nothing has changed. Laugh because I am a klutz and goofball rolled into one dorky package. Laugh because I get the inside joke and I don't care if anyone else does.

So if you ever found yourself coming in 9th on track and field day, getting your hair caught in your boyfriend's watch, or trying to work "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock" into a sentence, you are probably a dork and you shall always be one. Embrace the essence of being a dork! You are not alone. Remember, being true to yourself is the coolest thing you can do.

Spring Dance - 1983

Dorkalicious

TO BLOG OR NOT TO BLOG? THAT IS THE QUESTION

I'm sure this a question that many people first contemplating a blog ask themselves. I have read other blogs and often thought about starting my own. Fear has kept me from creating a blog long before now. Perfectionism, failure, self-consciousness are all demons I have wrestled with. Then it occurred to me that blogging is just journaling in the 21st century. Public journaling albeit, but journaling nonetheless.

When I was younger I always kept a journal. I laugh when I read those journals now. The trial and tribulations of a teenage girl seem so trival now, but these entries are the bits and pieces that make up the the fibres of my life. The things that made me the person I am today. This line of thinking led me down yet a whole other path. Who am I now? Do my children know this person? If I died tomorrow, would anyone really know who I was? A journal is a great legacy for those left behind, and for this reason, and this reason alone, I will blog. I will leave a story for my children, my family, my friends. A story that goes beyond the mother, wife, friend and daughter they see. They will know the woman I am and the child I was. They will know, unequivocally, the love I have for all of them, especially my children.

Am I scared? Absolutely! There is a certain vulnerability that comes with exposing your soul for the world to see. However, I will tackle this as I tackle all new challenges - full steam ahead!!