Recycling Mermaids September 15, 2008

After watching our lounge-about Friday evening show, “How Clean is your House?”, my 5-year old son and I decided that our playroom looked nearly as bad as the one just featured. The white-coat clad hosts visit grimy-filthy-messy-scary houses with much health warnings and incredulous shaking of heads, before getting the residents involved in the onerous cleaning tasks. So 5-year-old and I decided to take action, and emptied boxes of toys all over the floor, and decided which toys were to be rubbished, which to be given away (clean and unbroken but unused), and which ones kept and TIDILY put away on DUSTED shelves.*

Two items in the “give away” box were our little plastic mermaids, C-Blu (she has synthetic blue hair) and Shell (fluffy pink plastic-y hair – appropriate namesake of the global oil company). Their hair needed some attention, and after shampooing and conditioning each so that I could attempt to de-tangle, Shell looked positively pleased, though C-Blu was non-plussed.

In the process of fussing over them, I began to wonder if I should keep them… After all, there is sentimental attachment: my now 13 and 12 year old girls used to play every night in the bath with their lovely mermaids, and later my sons used them as victims, targets, hammers, etc. Plus, by the time the next generation comes along, plastic dolls with synthetic hair MIGHT be a thing of the past. We’ll be back to wooden dolls with wool hair and cotton dresses.

Keeping the auld things, of course, jars with the “clear out your closet and change your life” attitude. Am I hanging on to the wrong things for the wrong reasons? Am I burdening my karma by not “letting go”? The angst!

C-Blu and Shell are, meanwhile, doing what mermaids do best: lounging around admiring the view, from my dressing table instead of at the bottom of the toy basket. The only certainty at this point is that they won’t (intentionally) end up in a landfill.

*dusting technique from the show that is great for 5-year-olds: put an old pair of socks over your hands, moisten, and wipe off dusty surfaces! Satisfying results with white gym socks guaranteed!

Life at the Lake July 17, 2008

On Monday I decided firmly that I wouldn’t really have the time or energy to drive 3 hours north of Quebec city to Lac St. Jean to visit my brother and his family. He rang that evening, said the weather would be good, the bonfire was built, the martini ingredients were bought. On Tuesday I packed the four children into the car and set out with my Dad guiding me through the maze (so it seems to me) of Quebec highways. We arrived for lunch, a large pasta casserole made by my brother,

True to predictions, the weather held for the day, a bit cloudy at times, but when you walk out your back door onto a white sandy beach a short, hot expanse from the clear lake waters, a few clouds don’t matter. The children swam for the whole day – my four along with their 3-year-old cousin, a darling bundle of curls and squeals of laughter and a backbone as strong as her mother’s. 

For supper, my lovely sister-in-law C had made a fabulous stew, the beef bones lurking at the bottom and filled with rich marrow. Expecting in October, C relished the marrow. I tried a bit and my youngest boy liked it, but we clearly weren’t the biggest fans!

By this point, the wind had picked up a bit and the waves beckoned again. Back to the water. My brother lit the bonfire and the shivering children would swim then huddle as close as possible to the heat source (as close as my Dad could bear, that is – there were cautions issued as towels swept a bit too close to the flames!). Once dark set in, out came the marshmallows – a rare treat for both families. The higer wind meant a bit of difficulty lighting fireworks – what a thrill.

Later, sleeping arrangements made (a tent large enough to accomodate me +4 small people, a room for Dad, etc) I settled the children. We’re not big into tents and camping, so this was the first time my 5-year-old experienced tent sleeping. “Mommy, can I ask you a question? Why did we come all the way here to sleep in a tent?” Part of the adventure, was my reply; and I realised that for all our travels and encounters with different cultures and languages, sleeping in a tent really brings home what it is to live in a completely different way. I’ll have to get a good tent for the family!

Once the children were settled, I had a real treasure – time to chat. It’s hard to get into a conversation if one or the other has to “go home”. Being able to totter out the back door into a tent meant 2 hours of uninterrupted, easy conversation. 

Another gem – the boys, usually up at 6 am or so, woke as usual but went back to sleep until past 9 a.m.! “It’s cosy in here,” commented the elder as he snuggled back into his sleeping bag and drifted off. That morning: more wind, more waves, more non-stop plunging into the raging shore. Lunch; stop at local dairy farm to buy mouth-watering cheeses; drive home (so easy when you have 2 drivers!). We had done so much in one overnight stay that it felt like we’d been there the better part of the week. “Yeah,” my brother said, “it does feel like you’ve been here for a long time…” Ah, the sweet sarcasm!

Go raibh mile math agut (that’s not a swear word… nor is it sarcastic…)

The Grass is Always Greener July 14, 2008

I am holidaying with my children in my hometown of Ste-Foy, a suburb of Quebec; my parents are our tolerant hosts. I took this lifestyle for granted growing up, but am now thoroughly amazed at what’s on offer in the neighbourhood. Here are the WALKING times to some of the amenities:

6 seconds: beauty salon and hairdresser. They’re the nearest neighbours - aren’t I lucky!

1 minute: bus stop that takes you to Old Quebec. The bus passes every 10 minutes and it takes about 15 minutes to find yourself in Place D’YOuville;

4 minutes (in various directions): public library; French high school; outdoor soccer pitch; City Hall;

5 minutes: Sylvie Bernier indoor pool (named after the Quebec Olympic multi-medalist); 2 lots of outdoor tennis courts; permanent fully equipped gymnastics hall (including uneven bars, trampoline, climbing ropes, balance beams, and floor space); outdoor children’s park (climbing frame, swings, etc);

6 minutes: double indoor ice skating arenas, and behind it, the Gaetan Boucher Olympic sized outdoor speed skating ring (named after, you guessed it, the Quebecer medalist…); 25-metre outdoor pool; Roland Beaudoin park, consisting of huge wading pool featuring a row of fountains rocketing upwards and an outdoor amphitheathre;

8 minutes: a vast triple shopping mall on 3 floors, everything from giant Toys R Us to Futureshop to any fashion retailers you can think of, plus offices, gym, restaurants & cafes, etc.

If you get into your car, in 15 minutes you can be at an uber-mall: it’s not worth describing, just visit the Galeries de la Capitale website! Suffice it to say that for C$1 you can ice skate on an Olympic sized rink in the summer.

There is an absolute glut of things to do. For C$200 we’ve equipped ourselves with 4 children’s bikes & 4 new helmets. For another C$ 60 I got a skateboard, all the protective gear, 4 junior tennis rackets & a few tennis balls. We bike to the pool, playing tennis on the way – there’s always an availabe court. On rainy days we head the other way to swim indoors and enjoy the water slide; or go skating. We were too late to sign the kids up for gymnastics this summer (we’re visiting for 6 weeks since we have a free place with my parents), but we gawked for over half an hour at the amazingly equipped gym, and the not surprisingly skilled gymnasts given the ratio of coaches to kids – about 1 to 4!!!! (as opposed to 1 to 15 or so in our Carlow gym!)

And that would be without the Festival D’Ete and the Quebec 400th Anniversary goings on in Old Quebec. On Friday I saw Akon and Wyclef Jean perform – and it was free (ok, actually it costs $30 to get a pass for the whole week, but I was given passes by my brother who was heading off to his cottage by the lake, and my sister whose friends were leaving after the first weekend). All summer there are activities for children. Mine spent a while making Egyptian masks and having their faces painted, for free of course, and when they needed to sit there was a constant stream of shows going on in the park, from the North Shore Celtics to the Armenian troupe, the day we were there.

Today it rained but we had things to do at the shopping centre. Wireless cafes, toys r us, sports shops, clean loos always within reasonable distance, drinking fountains, … weirdly, it’s those details that make the whole thing pleasant, not just striclty the incredible number of shops.

And with all this almost literally on our doorstep, what does my son say? “I miss our house. It’s not the same here. We don’t have as much room to play.” Wha?? I guess that’s the difference between urban and rural. Our home in the bogs of Carlow, with garden, fields, kilometres of river bank, country lanes to cycle around… it’s home sweet home, though I do try to remind my son that pebbled, potholed lanes won’t allow skate boarding. Carpe diem!

As for me, I’m planning a long car journey to Halifax, Nova Scotia, to visit other siblings. With the price of petrol I ought to sit still, but in Ireland, petrol cost around Euro131.99 and diesel 140.99 when I left a couple of weeks ago. Here the prices are about 25% cheaper.

I’m sure there are disadadvantages to living here, but I can’t think of them right now… wait, it’s coming… oh yeah, -30 all winter with snow from October to May! brrr.

Jetlag and Soccer in the Rain July 3, 2008

We arrived in Quebec City from Dublin yesterday. It was a lovely day. The children fell asleep around 8pm; one in the morning where we started our journey, so they lasted well. But they were up at 5 am. After cereal and finding all the familiar toys at Grandma’s house, they started charging around the place like maniacs. At 9:30 am I sat them down for apples and glasses of water. By 10:00 it was undeniable: we had to go outside.

It rains a lot in Ireland, of course; thus the emerald green of the island. But in Quebec the rain is different. It goes on and on and on, as unending as the whole of Canada, it seems. So we put on our outer wear knowing we’d be soaked through in a few minutes, and went off to the nearby soccer pitch.

I think we lasted 20 minutes. But it worked. On our return, Chinese Checkers, solitaire and Backgammon were the order of the moment. Now its’ lunch time – seems like it should be bedtime! I guess we’ll go to the indoor swimming pool this afternoon. HOw else do you get active 5 & 8 year old boys to “get it out of their system”?!

Fake Tans or Sun bed? June 19, 2008

Notice that the list of choices in the title excludes the natural sun. Why? Because there is none around here!! Hello Ireland, it’s JUNE! Maybe I’m still too new to Ireland. After 9 years here I still foolishly expect seasonal consistency. No wonder people talk about the weather: if you feel like complaining, rejoicing, reminiscing, being hopeful, musing, worrying, or laughing about it, the weather’s the thing: it allows us to exercise the full gamut of emotions.

Anyhow, about the fake route to sun-kissed: It all sucks, don’t you think? Even Ascot recognises it – tongue in cheek, apparently (something on the BBC website mentions the jovial drawing attention to streaky tans). It’s ugly. I tried it. My knees looked dirty and a leg wax took it all off anyhow. So I decided in desperation (I wanted to show my lower legs in a skirt for my child’s first communion in mid-May; as it turned out, it was so cold I was in stockings anyhow) to go for the sun bed option.

The beauty salon in my nearby town was hopping. I thought it was the fake-proof solution. But soon I was able to recognise the sun-bed look (which just about 100% of the adult female population in this town is sporting this rainy season): a bit too brown even behind the ears. A suspiciously even and dark tone.

But that’s not what put me off: I began to notice on my own tummy and face what seem like pale “age spots”. I’m a bit freckled anyhow, but a brunette with no family history of skin cancer, so statistically not really high risk. But I didn’t like the look of these discolorations. I suspended my sun-bed sessions on sensible and cautious grounds. Wouldn’t it be a shame to be dead in a decade (age 50-ish), before my last child graduated from university? Before I figured out what it is I want to do with my life? (ha ha ha ha ha. Actually, and sadly, that’s not a joke…)

But sure, in the end, I want to be tanned, and if the real sun isn’t going to show itself, I’ll probably go back, pay the Euro 1 / minute, and use up my Euro 20 (that was the cheapest) bottle of “moisturising” coconut-stinky cream. (why doesn’t my own almond-oil/ grapeseed-oil/ jojoba-oil mix suffice? The beauty salon couldn’t really say, but it was imperative that I spend …. er, that is, that I protect my skin using THIS moisturizer…)

Ahh, summer.

Aaaaa-CHOO! It’s Hay Fever June June 19, 2008

Pollenna. That was my solution last year. And this year? It doesn’t seem to be working quite as well. I’ve been taking them as needed, not more than 2 / hour. The pollen seems to attack early morning and late evening mostly, with strong whacks if I’m outside just a bit too long doing silly things like pulling up weeds.

My other coping mechanisms have been to treat myself as though I have a cold. Vicks under the nose, Otrivine nose drops if I’m desperate for a night’s sleep and feel stuffy. That Otrivine stuff is dangerous – I can feel it burn through the blockage in my sinuses. However, I do sleep soundly until the next morning, when I’m awoken by the early pollen attack. And usually don’t need it two nights in a row, somehow.

Practical and dietary solutions include

• dressing cozily (it’s been rather chilly around here in Carlow anyhow),
• avoiding alcohol (not entirely, but it does make me feel stuffy),
• drinking lots of herbal and detox teas (I’m a coffee person but my desire for coffee vanishes completely during hay fever season),
• adding honey to my tea (not local enough, though – local honey is supposed to be the trick for getting your body used to the local pollen – but at least it soothes my throat),
• replaceing milk with soya milk,
• going to bed early (that is, around 10 pm instead of my usual 11:30)
• and keeping tissues at hand!

When a pollen attack happens, I drink lots of water – 500 ml or more washes down effortlessly; and, after wahsing my hands with soap to eliminate any lingering pollen, rinse my face to ease the eye itch.

Here’s my most unusual trick yet: I bought some vit E + coQ-10 tablets, as it said on the packet that the tablets would use more energy from the food I eat. I need all the energy I can muster, since another symptom of hay fever is total exhaustion; and it seems to be working a bit. At least I dont’ feel like crashing in a sleepy heap every mid-morning and mid-afternoon.

Writers Write June 11, 2008

I bought Maeve Binchy’s “Writer’s Club” to see what she had to say. Basically, one must actually write to produce some writing. That same day, I bought Isabela Fonseca’s “attachment.” Not sure where that story’s going yet but I’m ploughing through! My most recent excuses for not following Maeve’s advice: hay fever. If you don’t suffer from it, you’ll think I”m joking; but it’s exhausting. So much so that that’s all I’m writing today! Au revoir.

Monsanto and Me June 3, 2008

I got a letter in the post the other day from my Dad, with a newspaper article attached. The article is about
Monsanto, the monster company that, as my father put it, “ using GM seeds to establish a type of feudal system across the world…” According to the Montreal Gazette article, 12 million farmers worldwide who will plant GM seeds this year sign contracts agreeing not to save or replant seeds – so not only does the world lose biodiversity, but the farmers have to BUY new seeds each year. Further in the article, a Canadian farmer being sued by Monsanto says he never bought their seed, which costs C$80 per acre compared to C$20 per acre for conventional seed. How nice for Monsanto. Perhaps that has something to do with the “thousands of debt-ridden farmers [who] have committed suicide” in India.

Monsanto has lied before to maintain its profitability, according to a film called “The World According to Monsanto.” Apparently Monsanto execs refused to be interviewed for the film, and spokesperson Trish Jordan dismissed it as a “rehash” of old issues long put to rest. She says the “concept that Monsanto wants to take over the world is just folklore.” Tell that to the bankrupt farmers and the innocent farmers sued for “patent infringement” when really Monsanto should have been sued for corrupting seed supplies.

Back to our own little lives: When my husband read my Dad’s cover letter, he said, “So has your Dad changed his behaviour yet?” I laughed. I doubt it – but I’ll work on him over the summer when I visit with the kids. “He’ll find,” continued Tom, “that it’s not easy.” Hear hear.

The process is like this: you go to the supermarket with your new level of awareness. You start reading labels. You are in a state of disbelief at first: how can EVERYTHING contain all this rubbish that you’ve recently found out is BAD for me?? Eventually you begin to accept that if you’re going to change your behaviour, you’ll have to just plain old buy “organic” stuff to avoid the chemicals.

Then things happen to throw you off that track. Maybe you read that not all “organic” is really so; cheaters jump on the bandwagon along with the true organic folk, and they’re hard to tell apart. Or maybe your cash flow takes a dip and “organic” suddenly seems an expensive luxury – even a sucker-punch – compared to to what everybody around you is doing: grabbing the cheap veg, the standard milk, the 79 cent loaf, the paraben-stuffed shampoo.

But journalists – not just the ones with “Organic” or “Natural” glossies, but The Economist, National Geographic, Time Magazine, or the long-standing Ecologist, keep telling you: farmers are being financially destroyed. Crop biodiversity is being suffocated. Land is being poisoned. Crops are being genetically manipulated beyond what we can control (for example the unexpected (?!) contamination of Round-up Ready seeds into adjacent farmers’ fields). Climate is changing because of our consumption patterns. We are fucking up nature!! “We” keep forgetting we ARE nature: a mammal, with basic survival needs that include FOOD and CLEAN WATER.

So you sigh and go to the grocery store and… buy less. Because it all seems so unnecessary now. You don’t need some extra-smelly shampoo. You don’t need the latest shade of mascara. You don’t even need to colour your hair (finally, even hairdressers are admitting they know how poisonous hair dye is, so now they don’t let it touch your scalp. How helpful. But it still goes down the drain to become your future drinking and bathing water, or at least irrigation for the food you’ll eat. Hello! Stop pretending the chemicals disappear like magic! You have to not use them in the first place.) You realize you’d rather save your pennies for a hybrid car. Your children look gorgeous in 2^nd hand clothes, and when you do buy them a new pair of jeans, you wonder – and maybe even research – the brand to know where it’s manufactured and under what conditions.

Yes, you have become a conscientious consumer. Imperfect, not always convinced or energetic enough to keep your standards super-high, but another drop in the tide of people realising you need less, and what you need shouldn’t harm others – neither your beloved children, nor the stranger halfway across the globe.

Ah, it’ll be a busy summer, changing our consumption behaviour. Get ready, Dad!

Read the full article here: http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/news/saturdayextra/story.html?id=d450ef65-c3ad-4678-8978-c5ca305ca630

On Meditation May 27, 2008

It’s been a while since I meditated, but after being sick, I craved (craved??) a sitting-still session. I try to get up early for yoga but haven’t for a few days, so today I thought I’d do some. Got to my mat and just wanted to sit still.

It was really nice. I tucked a bit of mat under my tailbone so I’d last in the cross-legged position, and decided to count breaths, backwards from 10. This is a nice relaxed way to notice when my mind wanders, which it did a bit. But the overriding experience was calm, and my focus seemed to be around heart / solar plexus.

I was probably there for 10 minutes or so, by which time one foot was asleep… Twice I even brought my mind back from the distraction of physical discomfort – unusual for me. Did a really gentle bit of yoga.

Conclusion: Meditation is all it’s cracked up to be. Right time of day can help a lot. Morning is good, but not so early you nod off sitting up (I’m talking from experience). Try it sometime. It’s like a mini-holiday from EVERYTHING, including your own thoughts; and you can be there instantly, at a price even Ryanair can’t beat.

On Tao May 27, 2008

Tao: the unconditional and unknowable source and guiding principle of all reality as conceived by Taoists.

The process of nature by which all things change and which is to be followed for a life of harmony.

often not capitalized : the path of virtuous conduct as conceived by Confucians

often not capitalized : the art or skill of doing something in harmony with the essential nature of the thing [the Tao of archery, or the Tao of vacuum cleaning]

That’s why I like tao. There’s a certain friendliness to working “in harmony with the essential nature of the thing.” Of course, if you don’t know the nature of the thing, you might need a good manual: See “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” for an exposition on the different types of people: those like me, or my sister, who prefer a sort of “romantic” notion of how things work (they just should, and if they don’t, somebody should fix them, yesterday); and those who are interested [and may I add "capable"] of knowing the intricacies, the inner workings of the thing (like my husband, or my sister’s husband).

The Tao, in the broadest sense, is the way the universe functions, the path [Chin. tao=path] taken by natural events. It is characterized by spontaneous creativity and by regular alternations of phenomena (such as day following night) that proceed without effort. Effortless action may be illustrated by the conduct of water, which unresistingly accepts the lowest level and yet wears away the hardest substance. Human beings, following the Tao, must abjure all striving. The ideal state of being, fully attainable only by mystical contemplation, is simplicity and freedom from desire, comparable to that of an infant or an “uncarved block.” (from www.bartleby.com/65/ta/Taoism.html)

If you’re stressed, do something serene, like sit in a church or visit a museum or have lunch alone under a tree. Why are you stressed? Can you dump something from your schedule, or is it deeper? Did you mistakenly accumulate the wrong priorities? How can you shift them back? If you think about what would make your life more harmonious, you’re heading in the tao direction.