I am proud to be a Canadian. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was proud to cast my vote in the Canadian federal election a few weeks ago. I am proud of our country and our way of life and our values and our national character.

Temporarily, and for one reason only, I wish I was an American.

Because if I was an American, I could vote for Barack Obama.

I hope Americans don’t make a mistake. I hope they vote for Barack Obama and elect him next president of the United States. It would be one of the best decisions they’d ever make.

My endorsement means absolutely nothing, and I know that.

But it’s here all the same.

Why is it so hard to fill out forms?

Lately I’ve been applying to plenty of schools. The myriad of forms I’ve had to fill out has been mind-numbing! They start you off easy: Name, Address, Date of Birth. No problem. Then come the tricky questions. What was your student ID number ten years ago? What is the address of every place you’ve ever worked? Finding names, addresses, and phone numbers of people who could confirm volunteer and work experience in the application was hard enough. Good Grief! I feel like a Private Investigator spending hours of time researching my own background just so I can include it on the form.

There is something intensely satisfying about a completed form, be it online or paper. One of my favourite things to do at work is to fill out forms. I must have some “pencil pusher” genes in me, because hitting the “Submit” button on a form or licking the envelope that contains it in all its completed perfection is as satisfying to me as anything.

Am I nerd? Yes, I most definitely am. That’s why I use a PC. I was thinking today that I’ll never be a hip Apple user. They should get us nerds to unite behind our PC’s and let Apple know we are a serious force!

I’m still awake 15 minutes before midnight (which is a strange occurrence for me, lamely enough) because Steve is on a BOOZE CRUISE right now.

That’s right. He is on a boat somewhere on Sylvan Lake with his coworkers and . . . booze, I guess. Classy.

I dont’ need to stay awake for him. It’s just that I have never been able to sleep until everybody is home, even as a kid. It’s actually highly annoying.

But anyway! Here is my love list, thanks again for the idea, Meg!

FRIDAY LOVE LIST

Getting excited about the future
Two weeks off from work, starting NOW!
Cold water from the Brita jug
Steam-cleaned carpets that look WAY better than they used to!
Good people who want to do the right thing and try to do the right thing
My brother, Will, in Ottawa, who is MSN-ing right now because he IS a night owl – yay, company!
Leaving telephone messages for people
The Cleaner – for some reason, I tend to always love random new shows like that
Chilly morning-scent, even though it means fall is coming
When little kids wear too-small pyjamas and their tummies stick out under the pyjama top and over the pyjama bottoms
Pillows, blankets, beds
The outline of pine trees against stars
The sound of waves (this is getting a little too much like a Nature Harmony Sounds CD!)
The sound of ROCK n” ROLL
The William and Mary Law School (what a great name! I wish I could afford the tuition there!)
My two skinny sisters – a little love, a little jealousy, actually
My two chubby little girls – baby fat!
So You Think You Can Dance, of course.

Well, it’s past midnight so I guess officially this remains a Saturday Love List. Typical.

I’ll get it next time!

I like how Meg Fowler at megfowler.com has a Friday love list on the go. She just writes a list of all the things she is currently and/or always loving, on a Friday. It’s great. She encourages everyone who reads her blog to post their own. So I thought I would. I was feeling a little depressed last night, things in life don’t go always as they should, and it seemed like a good way to “count your many blessings” and so on and so forth.

But I couldn’t convince Steve to get off the computer. Something that will never be included on my love lists are computer games that are addictive to people like Steve and my mom, who once played DX-ball (an old-school game where you hit a ball at these tiles and watch them explode) to such an addictive extent that she wouldn’t even let me on the computer to write a social studies essay in grade eleven. Even when I threatened her with “Worst mother of the year” award.

Haha.

Anyway! Here is the Saturday love list that I have:

1. Juno. The movie with Ellen Page, not Zeus’s wife.
2. The way babies sleep on their tummies with their legs tucked up underneath them so their bums are in the air.
3. On the prairies, before a summer storm when the leaves on the poplars and birches and such begin to blow in the rising wind, and you see them flash green and silver.
4. Summer thunder and lightning storms on the prairies. (Not the horribly scary tornado-spawning storms, though).
5. Toast with butter and tea with milk for breakfast.
6. Lanterns.
7. Paintings with trees in them.
8. Couples who love each other but still kind of make fun of each other, in a nice way.
9. The way toenail polish and sandals look so good together.
10. Lemons and limes.
11. The sound of rain.
12. Baby washcloths.
13. Siblings, rivalry and all.
14. Babies falling asleep on me.
15. Spanish words.
16. Rodeos. (I never thought I’d say that, but I’ve been converted all right).
17. The yellow flowers that I got for helping out with the convocation ceremony at work.
18. The caps and gowns that professors wear at graduation ceremonies from all the different universities they graduated from, many of which are completely ridiculous and utterly hilarious.
19. The words “Dinner’s ready!”
20. Pasta.
21. When both girls take a nap at the same time.
22. Falling asleep at night.

The news is so sad.

I guess it’s not the news that’s sad. It’s life. It’s just . . . sad.

And I’m not just saying that because here, where I live, it is pouring with rain outside and many, many things in my life are going wrong and freaking me out even though I’m trying to stay calm and positive and focused and all that stuff.

I’m saying that because it’s just the way the world is. Sad.

Like this latest story about baby Angelica Louise. Just when I get over the fact that in Austria, a man kept his daughter and their children prisoners in a basement for as many years as I have been alive . . . I hear about a baby girl, 11 months old, being abandoned by her parents. Now she’s in foster care. I just can’t stop picturing her – lying facedown when they found her, and very, very cold. I wish I could pick her up and hug her forever and sing her a million lullabies.   

There was a story in the Alberta news a while ago about a little girl who took a plane ride with her grandpa. The plane crashed and he was killed, but amazingly enough, she survived, because her grandpa strapped her properly into a carseat. What a good thing to do. What really choked me up about the story was to think of how they found her, hours later, hanging upside down in her carseat. All those hours by her little self! The first thing she did when the incredulous rescuers found her was point to her teddy bear, lying just out of reach on the ground. Angel.

Another story today, about Steven Curtis Chapman, a Christian singer, whose littlest daughter was just accidentally hit by an SUV driven by her brother and killed.

I read these stories, and it hurts. It makes me want to go pick up my two little girls and hug them and never let them go. It makes me wonder why I’m so imperfect, myself, why I get upset with them or frustrated with them when they are just being little girls. In the bigger scheme of things, here they are, healthy and happy, and I love them so much I think my heart might fall out.

I just want to protect them. All children. I just wish I could make sure nothing bad ever happened to a child. I WISH I could do that.

The world is sad.

What can I say?

David Cook – you did it.

I’m happy my prediction was wrong.

And sorry I ever doubted you.

Well, not really. That’s a little extreme. But – way to go!

On a weeknight (let’s say a Tuesday and/or a Wednesday) there are a lot of things I could or should be doing:
1. Studying for the LSAT
2. Laundry, mopping the kitchen floor, Lysol-ing places like the top of the fridge and the microwave that just simply don’t get Lysol-ed enough in my house
3. Paying bills and balancing the chequebook
4. Attending to my correspondance (yes, I have correspondance)
5. Perfecting some skill like: cooking, writing, art, music.
6. Attending to personal hygiene – nailclipping, nailpainting, eyebrow plucking, legshaving, hair styling, at a reasonable hour instead of either way too late at night, way too early in the morning, or 15 seconds before I’m due to leave for somewhere.
7. Thinking deep thoughts and reading new and/or classic works of literature.

What am I doing instead?

Watching American Idol. Soon, watching Canadian Idol. And So You Think You Can Dance. And, So You Think You Can Dance Canada.

I don’t like reality TV in general. Don’t get me wrong. Amazing Race? Never seen it. Survivor? Blah. Big Brother? Good grief. Don’t Forget the Lyrics? Don’t Forget to Change the Channel (although I love Wayne Brady on Whose Line Is It Anyway, so no offence, Wayne.)

But talent shows . . . yes, I have a weakness for talent shows.

This year, I wanted David Cook to win. I think it’s because we’re the same age, 25, and I think people our age just need a little something awesome to happen to them. And because I can picture him as a kid in a class with me in elementary school, a guy who would drink white milk at lunch and maybe once did something geeky, like throwing up in class or spilling paint on himself and then having to wear gym strip for the rest of the day. I’m not thinking of anyone specific . . . just a general impression of elementary school boys. Who could become famous!

And I wanted him to win because I like his style. Not always of clothing (too many vests, man) but overall, his style of music. He sings good songs, and he sings them in a good way, IMHO. I mean, say what you will, he likes Our Lady Peace, and Our Lady Peace is a SWEET band.

Go Canadian band.

Anyway. Last night, I was geared up for the showdown. I was expecting the cheesy boxing metaphors. I was expecting the cheesy winner song. I was expecting the vague and incomprehensible Paula comments, the cryptic Randy comments, the Simon sarcasm and style.

But I wasn’t expecting David Cook to fizzle out. Me and my Mars bar and my steadily-growing pile of folded laundry watched it happen in disbelief. The thing is, I knew exactly how he felt. At least, I think I do! Ha. Anyway, you know when you want something to go perfectly? But then, in the days or hours before it happens, you just have a feeling that it won’t? You try to ignore it, but you know you just don’t have what it takes at that particular time . . . and you can’t for the life of you figure out how to get it, so you overthink it and then decide to stop thinking and then just kind of fade to grey. And so you lose before you even get to the competition.

I think that’s what went down. And he’s much more human than little David Archuleta, whom I also think is fantastic, but who, let’s face it, may likely just be a teen sensation and as soon as he grows some facial hair will automatically become less cute and pretty boring. Like Taylor Hanson, or Billy Gilman or something (where is that little dude, these days?)

But coming across as human, a little older, a little sarcastic, a little threatened, maybe a wee bit arrogant, who can say, against a sincere little goody-two-shoes sweetie like David A. just didn’t go over that well last night.

It’s OK, David Cook.

This may be premature, anyway, you might still win.

But girls screamed during little David’s performances, and they waited to scream until yours were over. So the vibe I’m getting is . . . runner up.

Except in my heart.

Goodbye, American Idol, and goodbye, excuse for low productivity.

Goodbye and thank goodness!

I could really use some good news right now.

Outside, there is a howling blizzard, and it’s not even the middle of April . . . it’s LATE April. The wind is freezing, the roads are awful, there is snow as far as the eye can see when just a week ago, it felt like summer.

We’ve been waiting ages to hear back about Steve’s job. It’s feeling like forever, and each time the phone rings we almost have a heart attack, only to find out . . . it’s somebody else altogether. I feel like a dog that gets excited at every coming car, and then is depressed to find out it’s not their owner, just some dude in a random Toyota.

Hangdog.

A few things and a few things only are keeping me going.

One is . . . the knowledge that spring always comes. It says that in Ecclesiastes.

Another is . . . that waiting is something the Lord seems to want us to do. A lot. Often. And if that’s the case, then I have to “set my face like flint” (thanks to my mom, a favourite expression of hers from Hannah Whitall Smith) and just keep going, day in and day out.

I’ve been reading a lot about waiting lately. I take that as a sign that the Lord is just asking us to wait. To wait for spring, to wait for the right job or circumstances, to wait for his timing, which is unfathomable. Each time I think I’ve guessed it, “OK, we’ve waited long enough! He’s going to let us know now!” I get nothing.

Because I can’t guess it. I shouldn’t even try.

Waiting is hard, but it can be dynamic. It “flexes the spiritual muscles”, according to Catherine Marshall. It tests us – our strength, our stamina, our faith in God. It forces us to give up anxiety, to give up control, to put things in God’s hands and then to wait for “the peace that passes understanding” because we need it. Waiting is not doing nothing. On the contrary, it is a powerful force, but one that we can’t see. And that’s why it is so frustrating!

Bottom line: (and thanks to my sister who sent this to me) “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27 vs 13 – 14.

Today I realized I’m not as young as I think I am.

I work with college students, and on some level, I feel like I’m still one of them. I mean, I graduated three years ago. It hasn’t been an eternity yet. Once in awhile I get the feeling that they look at me as kind of ancient, but that’s counteracted by the way all the profs in the department make me feel, what with their sweater vests and all. I’m young. I’m hip. That’s the vibe I just assumed I was radiating, without even an ounce of effort on my part, like applying night cream for wrinkles or something.

But that changed today, when a dude with a motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm held open a door for me at the college. When I said, “Thank you”, he said:

“Oh, don’t thank me. Thank my dad.

He always taught me to be polite to my elders.”

!!!! Elders? Dude! Are you kidding me? Did he forget to teach you how to talk to the ladies? ‘Cause comments like that sure aren’t the way to go.

The worst part was, it didn’t even cross his mind for a second that this might be a shocker for me, or some kind of harsh wake-up call. No, he just went off to find his motorcycle or whatever (probably a scooter, HA!) as if, of course, yeah, she’s my elder. So deal with it.

It’s the same way with Olympic athletes and hockey players – a whole bunch of them, younger than me, richer than me, much, much more successful than me. And some pop stars.

When did I suddenly go from wanting to be older to realizing that it actually happens, and then you can’t stop it? I mean, I’m not saying I’m ancient. I’ve got a ways to go before that happens. But I’m not really pulling off the old “spring chicken” thing anymore either, I guess.

I could have had my first novel published by now, or maybe travelled to some places more interesting than Eastern Canada, or started my own business or become famous. I guess it’s not too late for that. But I guess I should also watch out, because at this rate, before I know it, it will be.

I smile a lot, and contrary to all expert advice, I never remember to put on sunscreen in the morning. So here come the crow’s feet and the leathery skin, I guess.

Bottom line – I guess I’d better start applying night cream for wrinkles.

When I’m stressed out and thinking about the reasons why, I grind my teeth together. I am not even conscious of it – I clench them and they remain that way until the stress is gone. And now that I think about it, I must look pretty tightly-wound to people who see me on those days. My jaw all clenched, shoulders hunched . . . what a pretty picture I must be. I should start calculating how many people are edging away when they see me storming down the hallways at work.

I’ve been stressed since yesterday, because Steve had a job interview and it involved a test.  I was at work while he was at the interview, undergoing the test, and I can tell you I had my teeth clenched the whole time. When he finally called after the interview was over, I think I unclenched them for about five minutes while he told me it went well. Then, when he said “We’ll know by the end of the week” they clenched again, and I’m pretty sure they’ve stayed clenched ever since.

For example, last night. I woke up at about five a.m. and I had a blinding headache. Most likely because my teeth had been clenched for over 24 hours by that point! And even though I’m consciously trying to keep from clenching them, they automatically go to that position, so the headache is sticking around.

I am trying to chill out, though – what else can I do, it’s a situation that’s beyond my control! I read something good on my Facebook verse of the day yesterday: ”Do not be anxious, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God”  (that might be slightly paraphrased). Anyway, that verse must have been written for teeth-clenching people like me. Do Not Be Anxious.

I guess that’s the bottom line.