Dear Mr. Garbage-Dumping Coward

This is an on-going sore spot for me, garbage. In particular, it is usually the garbage close to where you live that bothers you the most. We decided that with it being "Green Saturday" for my blog and the sun was shining, it would make for a good family adventure to pick up that garbage that eats away at my soul. If you need a primer, click here and see what I mean. Now this is our adventure and I'd like to dedicate/address it to Mr. Garbage Dumping Coward.

Dear Mr. Garbage-Dumping Coward,

Yes, you with the red/burgundy minivan. You were last seen dumping your garbage (of the non-organic variety including large sheets of plastic) by Borer's Creek in Waterdown on Friday, May 9th, 2008 at approximately 4:30 pm. We were the ones running down the trail towards you waving our arms. Why did you drive away so fast? Was it something we said? Were you not supposed to dump your garbage there? Huh? Are you not supposed to dump your garbage in public places, especially so close to a creek? We were just wanting to talk to you for a minute and make friends. See, we've been admiring your garbage for quite some time. That was a nice toilet you dropped off and I love the laminate flooring scraps. They will make a nice home for the squirrels once they pick up their power tools at Rona!

You did make a major faux pas. You see, you happened to also ditch a nice paint tray with a very brightly coloured canary orange yellow remaining in it. A colour not found in nature, nor any living room I've ever seen. A colour that one would paint lines on concrete with and yes, I think I see some freshly painted yellow lines at your fine establishment on Dundas Street in Waterdown!I suspect you might also have a cat as we picked up all your recyclables today. Right now, I bet you are settled back in your poorly decorated living room (as all criminals have to live in badly decorated homes so they don't blow their cover) and drinking your canned beer while you toss your can into the trash pile that you have piled in front of your 57" of cheap plasma pleasure. You'd laugh at us to know that we picked up your garbage and loaded in the back of our car, PAID for it's disposal at the transfer station and sorted your recyclables for you. It really wasn't that hard. And while we were the ones who had to endure the complaints of the 4-year-old that we brought with us, we smiled when we knew that we did something good and our little girl will some day too. I hope it's your kids that she manages to throw into a jail cell when she is a well respected lawyer and your turd piles are still selling drugs to teenagers at the skate park. Uh huh. So laugh all you want. We all know who the true loser is around here. Call me Mrs. Social Justice if you want, and when you least expect it (which will be in broad daylight, no less), someone will pop out of the bushes and start taking photos of your licence plate to email to the police, with videos too of your crimes!

One more thing. You see, I love my husband, *Steve* dearly and you clearly pissed him off. See below.Along with the gas, that is running at $1.25 per litre, that we splurged on to get us to the Transfer Station and subsequently waited in line starting and stopping our engine or idling unnecessarily; the $8 it cost us to dispose of just some of YOUR junk (there is so much more to pick up); and now the cost of these beautiful cupcakes I had to make my family after for doing a good deed for our neighbourhood, country, and planet; you clearly owe me a lot. Do me a favour Mr. Garbage-Dumping Coward, stay home. Take your cheap beer cans, your kitty food containers for your very hungry cat, your broken toilet, your canary yellow paint, your assorted scraps of laminate flooring, your sod, your construction materials, your hazardous waste, your crap and dump it in the garbage your-damn-self. It won't stop me from picking up garbage or the countless other people who do the same thing. See, you'll never win.

And you'll never eat these cupcakes!
signed, Mrs. Social Justice


signed the willow

Tree of Life

My ghost writer has taken a liking to writing something for Fridays and I really have to say that I look forward to both reading it and having a day off. This is almost like working, except for the salary part. I have yet to make up the short-comings there. So, live from an ampitheatre in NWO, Lady of the Lake:

Friday again……. That means it is time for my weekly “familytreefriday” entry.

Today I feel like the proverbial “kid-in-a-candy-store”; faced with so much choice and unable to make up my mind. Which one to feature? Eeny-meeny-miney…

So, facing this dilemma, I ordain to speak in generalities about trees in general, and family trees in particular. It is a perfect analogy, don’t you think: the similarities between the structure of a tree and the structure of a family ? A Tree of Life .

I am constantly amazed when I ponder the way family trees spread and grow. My own little family, which began as four, has now expanded to a wonderful nine-count of heads.

The branches get longer and produce their own off-shoots, which continue to grow and do likewise. Like the large, beautiful old white pine in our yard, its girth expands with each added year, as the limbs continue to add smaller shoots. Occasionally, we find a broken branch; and those which have out-lived their time, fall, inevitably to the ground. Some of the boughs have been untimely severed from the tree through lightning bolts or strong winds, but the tree itself, remains intact, firmly rooted in the earth.

Through the marvel of genealogy research, I attempt to recall some of the countries of origin within our family tree. There are many which we know and probably many which we will never know. England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Iceland, Germany, Sweden, Croatia, to name a few. Some lands were warm and sunny; some ancient and steeped in history; yet we all ended up in this very young country of Canada, living in the land of ice and snow. “our home and native land…” The sagas which describe our ancestors’ voyages to Canada and the reasons they all left their homelands, are diverse: I’m sure we will never find the truths in some of these tales; just as we may never know the truth of some parentage issues. But does it really matter? The tree stands.

What if you were a man, preceded in death by two wives; having no descendants; no children to whom you may leave a legacy of knowledge, love , memories ? Does your tree now fall ? Is it loped off at the trunk; pulled out by its roots ? What purpose did your 90+ years on earth have if not to leave a trace, a footprint as evidence of your passage ?

I dedicate this epistle to such a man, who died on May 7th, 2008 and left his traces and memories only to an “adopted” family.

signed, the willow for the Lady of the Lake

Kathie Lee's feet

Onward with my Dooce fan club obsession with catching a glimpse of her on the Today Show. This morning I tuned in to the Today Show around 10:30 am (eastern time) and again at 11:30 on the NBC High Definition channel for an even clearer chance to see Dooce. It would seem that I need glasses and misread her blog too late. You see, she was in fact on tv this Wednesday in the 10:30 segment with Kathie Lee and Hoda. But did I read that? Nope. I skipped right to the part about Kathie Lee and blah blah blah there it was the next day. But I did manage to see Kathie Lee Gifford bring her mother on the show and yap about her life for 4 hours. Then she decided to treat everyone to a segment on her misshapen feet. Man, were they ugly feet. Her and her hammer toes (she called them that, not me). I was able to catch the Dooce segment on You Tube and you can too.

For Craftable Thursday we were just hurting for ideas. Maybe the fact that we spent 2 hours at the playground did us in. Here is what we came up with.

Mix some acrylic paint with some glue. Don't forget to put on your mom's Beaver Canoe shirt from 1984. It is really from 1984. Somewhere around here I have a couple Chip & Pepper shirts too. Remember them? I remember those guys hanging out in the clubs in Winnipeg during the cold winter weekends. Okay, back to the craft.

Paint your glue-paint mixture in a pattern or design onto your paper. Initials work wonderfully.

Sprinkle some glitter on top.

Cut them out and frame them like little monograms for your office. In fact, I think I'll get *Mila* to give me some FF for FundFocus tomorrow. I love her for that, she'll do it too like my little soldier. Crafting like it's for a better good in this world.

signed, the willow

Headless Ken didn't make it today

First off, I will resume where I left off yesterday...with Dooce. It would seem she wasn't on the Today show today. In fact she will now be on tomorrow. Not that I am her publicist, personal assistant or I even know her. Why am I divulging all this? I guess because I stand corrected. I don't want to misinform the internet.

So, I thought I would sneak off yesterday and just relax for 1 real minute. All I needed was just a breather for one minute. Things are hectic and crazy and we found ourselves at each other's throats all day. I swear, we are like oil and water some days - *Mila* and I. *Steve* just took his "Dick van dyke caught in a tornado with prickly thorns" to work with him. As I was saying, I lay down to get my wits about me, when I heard a terrible racket.

Somehow, clothes were strewn about and there was a sing song happening. Followed with a "MOMMY! MOMMY! WHERE ARE YOU? COME HERE AND SEE ME DANCING! IT'S VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU COME HERE RIGHT NOW! WHERE ARE YOU?" Then her panic set in. This was all happening faster than Homer J. Simpson can swallow a Duff beer.

I thought for one second, maybe those new neighbours will be moving out soon when they hear all the racket coming from us. Maybe. Then I spied what was going on next door and I don't want to know about the lady in the hot tub.

More urgent requests came demanding that I see what was going on. There were many voices and I was sure that there was a party going on. Who did she invite into our house? Who is the red head?

Crazy Haired Doode and his girlfriend were in the kitchen eating all our food like it was the Last Supper or something.

One more thing. If your name is Dave and you live near Lake of the Woods and you lack all sense of morals and ethics and you are bothering my father, please desist. For I will now be digging out my voodoo doll of you once again and stabbing it with big gouging knives covered in nasty pesticides. True. I'm heading out to the garage now as we speak. Grab a plane back to the Green Land of Leprechauns and start your shoemaker career DAVE!

signed, the willow

Once in a while I am allowed to feel sorry for myself

Not going to blame anything or anyone for my mood today. I am finding myself strapped with a child tethered to my waist. Not just today, every day is turning out to be like this lately. If for one second I walk away from my post to pour myself a cup of java, a summoning voice is heard screaming in a panic "MOMMY! MOMMY!" Ok, calm down child, I am in the kitchen stirring my coffee. Nothing has changed since I said I was going down to get a coffee. I didn't just radically change my plans and decide to head out to the local pub and get plastered. Nope. I am still here tethered to you! Not to worry, I won't be going anywhere because if I did you would let the entire county of Flamborough know.

Finding yourself at the Liquor Store just to snag one of their delicious magazines must be a crime. Last night, *Steve* proclaimed his thirst on the way home from his train pick up and so we were outside of the LCBO parking when I said "GET ME FOOD & DRINK. ME NEED FREE MAGAZINE." How lucky we are in the entire province of Ontario, we can share the "Food & Drink" magazine. No matter how rich, no matter how poor, no matter what corner of the province we live in, no matter how drunk or sober we are -- we are all free to enjoy the "Food & Drink" mag.

Our walk this morning was meant to relax us and free us from the grey sky, the tethered waistlines, the SUV that cut us off and the BMW that rode our tail down the hill. But instead I brought my camera to share with you "STYLE TUESDAY".

Overheard in a suburban house: "My, your floor looks lovely. I really love how you decorated the place. It's nice to see someone really use their taste and style with such a classic flair. Lucky for you to be able to afford to do such a reno on your house."

Overheard on the nature trail close to where the moron dumped his/her garbage: "Can afford to do a reno, but can't afford to ditch your garbage, huh? I guess I'll find out if we can get some pitch in bags and clean up your mess for you. Thanks for leaving it for us to look at. Now we'll know that when we see you drive down here and park at dusk with your giant-gas-guzzling-SUV that you are not in fact teenagers up to no good. No, you are adults up to no good."

."

Overheard in a suburban neighbourhood lawn near us:

"Great sod you just put in! I love the landscaping you did. Must have cost you a fortune!"

"Yeah, it cost us a bit. Now I'm going to have to apply some synthetic pesticides and herbicides to protect my precious lawn. Then I have to go and ditch my leftovers."

Overheard beside the dumping spot on the road where the sod now lies: "Um, dork...you know if you would have walked 10 feet to your right, there was bare black earth begging for some grass and vegetation since it was recently ripped up. Did you ever think to ditch your sod there? How about doing something more constructive with your waste? Give it to a neighbour. Give it to a parkland. Return it to the store. Think outside of your SUV. Or can you? Maybe the gas fumes have gotten to your already puny brain."

Just want to add that Dooce (aka Heather B. Armstrong) will be on the Today show tomorrow morning (Wednesday, May 7th) and I think we should all watch her, Queen of the Blog.

signed, the willow

HELP...I need somebody...not just anybody...HELP

Really now, I don't need help. In fact I chose to entertain 4-year-old *Mila* in the bath by writing out random words from the Beatles' song "HELP" and then I had to sing it to her. She followed up with taking bath crayons and scribbling all over the tiled wall and the tub. She said that restaurant ladies always scribble when they take your order. Imagine. How fancy? I remember my family wondering about me when I would play "waitress" for hours on end. I didn't get any where near being a waitress. Simply because I would have burnt their laps with steaming hot coffees, dumped orders over the heads of belligerent gentlemen whose eyes wandered where they shouldn't have, and I probably would have taken out my frustrations behind the scenes on the chef who would have knives between his/her toes and plates of pasta dumped near his/her feet. So, no I didn't make it into the restaurant industry. I'm thinking of just staying away for a few more years as well.

Today's recipe:

University Rice

While studying for many exams, I relied heavily on cheap carbo-meals. You know the type, Mr. Noodles, Ramen Noodles, Ichiban Noodles, Kraft Dinner, etc. This was one that I cooked up near the end of my sentence at U of M.

2 cups cooked rice

2 tbsp rice vinegar

1 tsp sugar

2-3 tbsp water

soya sauce

ranch dressing

Mix in a small bowl rice vinegar, water and sugar. Take cooked rice while it's still hot and add rice vinegar mixture. Stir till all rice is coated. You may need to add more or less water. Top off with soya sauce and ranch dressing. Stir again. Eat while you read over about the reproduction of gametophytes for the 900th time this semester. Try to enjoy it.

signed, the willow

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I did not spend a dime at IKEA today. Although, I did go and fight several crowds.

So, here is something that I bought a few years ago when we bought the house. 3 matching robin's egg blue frames from IKEA for $13 each (real glass included as I broke one framing one of the reading posters I bought from allposters.com or was it art.com?). Welcome to my IKEA museum.

signed, the willow

100W lightbulbs are hard to find

I succumbed to the Easy Bake Oven request this week and then we had to hunt for a 100W light bulb. By the way, we have only 7W CFL light bulbs in the house now and so we ran to Canadian Tire for one. When we arrived at the store and found the light bulb section, there was a dusty old pack of 100W light bulbs. Four light bulbs for 99 cents. At first I thought about how I didn't want the other 3 light bulbs and I would simply be doing wasteful buying. Then I realized that they were 25 cents a piece and I probably won't be finding any during the life span of the Easy Bake Oven, so we best stock up now.

Oh and this is *Steve's* contribution to saving the planet during the "Hockey Play-offs": Less shaving. Please someone save me from the "van dyke" as he calls it. I prefer to call it the "Dick van Dyke gets swept up in a tornado and gets covered in a bunch of prickly thorns".

*Mila's* contribution to saving the planet this week: Ride your plasma car.

signed, the willow

The Ghost Writer who Haunts me...

...and writes for me. Enjoy! From the Lady of the Lake.

For familytree Friday:

At the risk of bringing heaviness into this blog, today I submit a story of a family member who has now departed this earthly terrain. The best way I can think of to do this is to reprint in part, the eulogy which I had prepared some eight years ago.

Eulogy for *Tad*

If *Tad* had the opportunity to attend this gathering today, he, simply, WOULDN”T !
And in his gruff, impatient way, he would accuse us of being “sentimental” and “morbid”.
For *Tad’s* life was a life of usefulness, peppered with humour and thinly-disguised love. He simply had no time for sitting around weeping over things which cannot be changed. *Tad*, as we all know, was a “fixer”. Is there any one of us here for whom he has not, at some time or another “fixed” something?

*Tad* turned his mind and his hand to many tasks, and using this gift, he could repair and produce almost anything from wooden buildings to barrels of sauerkraut ! He seldom refused a request for assistance in any area and all we had to do in return was listen to his complaints and lectures. More than just a man; *Tad* was an “institution” in our family….a Legend, almost. It seemed like he was always there to help out in any way that he could.

When eulogizing a man’s life; listing his accomplishments seems necessary, but honouring the “man” is the most important detail.

What kind of “man” was this, whom we come today to recognize and thank? For truly, in writing this, the most important fact we must convey, is that *Tad* was a MAN…our “main man” - our husband, son, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, nephew, friend.

An old Tribal Proverb advises: “Gather the five virtues, then you are a man.”
The five virtues named are: dignity, confidence, courage, compassion and faith.

To say that *Tad* had dignity would make him chuckle, but we have all witnessed this virtue in him. *Tad* was a solitary man. He did not need other people to define his worth. He walked alone, but while doing so, he acquired the respect and friendship of all who were attracted by his humour and dignity.

Confidence? Ever see *Tad* operate a back-hoe? or a hammer? or a fishing rod ?

Courage? This is a chapter of *Tad*’s life which merits a full eulogy of its own. “Roll with the punches” was a phrase invented for him alone. Because, “punches” he had in abundance; and “roll” he definitely did! Who else could drive himself to hospital after a tree had just introduced itself to his face? (and then he was annoyed because the surgeon didn’t respond to his jokes, while “sewing him up”). Drove himself to hospital after his first heart attack too! And, as for the train accident, which eventually left him with only one leg - the full experience belies telling! *Tad's* full show of courage was demonstrated immediately after the accident and in the endless months of repair afterward. This sad event gave him the opportunity to give birth to many “one-legged man” jokes; while his plastic legs became another source of humour for *Tad*. Did you know you could make a beer stein from a prosthesis ?

The fourth virtue is compassion. The dictionary defines compassion as “sorrow for the distress of another, with the desire to help.” For, beyond *Tad*’s gruff exterior, dwelt a “pussy-cat” and that’s NOT to be confused with “push-over” !

Faith? Somewhere there are photos of *Tad* as a 14 year-old altar boy. But, faith isn’t always displayed in a church, and *Tad*’s faith in life was held outdoors in God’s world – preferably with a fishing pole in his hand !

“ Life With *Tad* ”….. It could be the title of a book and the stories would fill a million pages. Someone said; “If life hands you lemons..make lemonade.” Life with *Tad* was like lemonade…bitter/sweet, but nutritious and refreshing ! For some years now, we have felt that *Tad* was a spirit held in a beleaguered body. It seemed as if, he held inside himself, a restless bird longing to go free. Death has freed that bird; and while we mourn our loss, we know that we will find our *Tad*, beside us, above us, surrounding us, protecting us, as he always has done. We are grateful for the years and all the special, precious moments we spent with him and pray that he can now, truly, rest in peace, with all our love to abide with him forever.

signed, the willow (for the Lady of the Lake)

Scritchity Scratchety

Once upon a time, we found ourselves confined by the bars on the doors of our palace. These bars were known as germs and they found their way into our ears, eyes and throats. To pass the time, and use as little energy as one can, I found myself digging out kids' magazines for craft ideas. Here's the one we chose to do. Step one. Get yourself a whack of crayons, a piece of plain old white printer paper and some black paint, a paintbrush and lots of things to wipe up the mess afterwards. Step two, colour the page randomly with all sorts of colours. See below. Step Three, kindly ask your four year old or borrow some body else's kid to paint over the colours with black paint. This is where you need the cleaning supplies.
Step Four: Ignore all animals who think they are allowed to join in the fun. Place treat in dog's bowl if necessary.
Step Five: Pose and look cute while crafting. The most essential step of all.
Step Six: Let the paint dry and scratch out some patterns and designs with your utensil of choice (we used a mechanical pencil tip without the lead). We did multitudes of swirls, apple trees and watering cans. I suspect it was a hit since *Mila* dashed to get it off the kitchen table to show her dad as he walked in the door tonight. He then asked how she did it and she gave him the lowdown. After which he said "Wow, sounds like you had a good day!" The answer she gave was "Nah, it was pretty boring."

signed, the willow