My Christmas wish(es)


First things first.

Look what happened this morning!


Talk about magic.

Now, on to the important stuff.

The brilliant Ms. J from Ambling and Rambling (the big sister blog to ye olde Rant and Roll) has asked me to pen my 2012 Christmas wishes, as, interestingly enough, one of her Christmas wishes.

How very meta.

So it’s got me thinking (literally, I’ve put on my pondering cap and everything) as to what is it that I want most, for not necessarily myself, but for the entire world as we head into the holidays and New Year.

So let’s just dive right in, shall we?

It’s going to be a doozy.

First, I wish that a fitting punishment be doled out to all these offenders listed below:

–          escalator standers

–          sidewalk shufflers

–          gym grunters

–          movie talkers

–          chair kickers

–          mouth breathers

–          staff meeting monologuers

–          perpetual cell phone checkers

–          non-signalling drivers

–          mansplainers


They are the absolute worst.

Don’t know a mansplainer?

They are those dudes who, because they’re a dude, like to corner women at parties, or bars, or their offices, or the bus stop, and explain to them what it’s like to be a woman, and what, as a woman, they should be doing with their life.

As a woman.


My reaction to this phenomenon is always the same:



As punishment, these individuals will have to complete a minimum sentence of twenty years of hard labour, to be served on Baffin Island, carrying rocks from one coastline to the other.

And back again.

However, in a bid to seem lenient, it will be their choice as to whether the rocks are carried North-South or East-West .

(I want to see fair, after all.)


My second wish is that anyone thinking about getting a pet next year, first looks at adoption options, before purchasing their little one.

There are so just many animals out there that need our help. And if you don’t believe me, just watch that awful Sarah McLachlan SPCA commercial.

(You know, the one that destroys viewers with all those clips of abused and sick puppies and kittens.)


I get choked up just thinking about it.

(Seriously, if your heart doesn’t break into ten thousand pieces by the 2.7 second mark of that ad, congratulations, you are officially a psychopath.)

Anyways, what I’m trying to say here is that it would make such a difference if more people looked into their local shelters before buying, because there are so many awesome little gals and guys currently available for adoption who need a warm and loving place to call home.

It was actually at our neighbourhood SPCA that we found Ms. Nymeria, and as you may have guessed, we couldn’t (and wouldn’t want to) imagine our life now without her.


(Even when she’s limbering up her killing paw.)

Phew. Where did all this rain falling on my face come from?


Third on the docket is my wish that Hot Chip returns to Vancouver ASAP, so that I can once again dance my mad face off to them in concert.


But seriously, looking back on the past three hundred and fifty-odd days, this concert was a major musical highlight (in a year already defined by many, many boughts of tonal awesomeness.)

So Alexis Taylor, et. al., – I implore you. Get your groovetastic selves back to Vancity, and STAT.

Over, and over, and over, again.

Side note: I kind of feel like I’m writing a Friday Fry-up here. But on a Wednesday. MIND BLOWN.

Finally, my Christmas wish (my real one) is for the whole world to just take a moment, and CHILL OUT.

Just stop.

Stop fighting.

Stop shooting.

Stop bombing.

Stop spending.

Stop talktalktalking.

Instead –

Start listening.

Start learning.

Start dialogue.

Start change.

Make change.

Make time.

Make beauty.

See beauty.


See love.

Be love.





Take one moment, and believe.

Because I believe our world can be better – little by little, person by person.

I believe we can make it better.

And so that is my wish.

I wish for all others to believe.

IMG_2535 - Copy

Curiouser and curiouser

Good morning friends!

This is my morning view. Also how do people take photos before eating their treats? It is almost impossible for me.

My cat (who is in stealth mode in the above picture) is currently tearing about our home (which sadly means she is also tearing up our carpet each time she reaches both the top and bottom of our stairs.)

If I wasn’t so madly in love with her, there would be repercussions.

When she gets into these scamp moods of hers we like to say that she’s “riding her little horse” because of the way she gallops about the house (and the way her gait sounds like that of a young steed racing around a track.)

We adopted Ms. Nymeria from the SPCA a little over four years ago.

I had been badgering M forever to let us get a cat.

She is giving you five.

Being a remarkably patient, and loving man, he withstood this constant bombardment quite well (and with much grace at that.)

Because seriously, anytime he inquired about gifts, I would immediately, without thinking, blurt out: “A CAT.”

Hey Ethel, he’d say. What do you want for Christmas this year?

A CAT, I’d respond.

Hey Ethel, what would you like for your birthday this year?

A CAH! I’d say, not bothering to swallow that bite of my sandwich before taking the time to respond.

Hey Ethel, what do we need to pick up at the grocery store tonight?

A CAT! I’d answer. And milk, bread and cheese. But mostly though, a cat.

(That joke was always a laugh and a half for me, but obnoxious as heck for him. Still, I couldn’t stop myself.)

Lovers in a dangerous time.

Come February 2008, M ever so nonchalantly asked me to come over to his computer. He picked me up, sat me in his lap, and together we looking through the pictures of the kittens that were currently available for adoption over at our local SPCA shelter.

Now, I don’t know about you folks, but there is a very limited time frame in which I can stay on one of those websites and remain a functioning, coherent human being.

Just looking at all the little ones that need homes thrusts me into sensory overload, and I become overwhelmed between two very conflicting reactions.


It’s like all of my life force swells to epic proportions but is simultaneously sucked out of me. Like I turn into a superhero just before being administered a Dementor’s kiss.

Luckily, it wasn’t before long that we saw Nymeria’s picture and we both fell head over heels in love.

A go-to pose.

At the time she wasn’t Nymeria. She was Faye, who – “didn’t play well with others.”

We knew immediately that she had a touch of both Rhoyne and direwolf inside her.

The next day we went to the shelter, and along with the help of two stellar friends of ours, adopted the little Miss into our arms, heart and home.

And she’s been there ever since. Snuggling, purring, meowing (she talks, like, all the darn time), furring up furniture, ripping up carpets, going absolutely bat shit crazy when she sees other cats, sleeping on my feet, and sailing 1,000 ships to Dorne (just like her namesake of course.)

The beauty cat. And M's hair pants.

I always joke that Nymeria is my daughter – and while there is a healthy dose of both tongue and cheek in this statement – she is a dear, dear part of my family.

She was with us during our engagement, our marriage, both of our post-grads; she forgave us for going to England without her (that one took a while, let me assure you).

She is with us when we wake up, and when we sleep.

And I love her. (Even if at the moment she is scoping out my lemon bar.)

So what about you dear readers? Who are the furry friends in your life?

Nymeria and I would love to know.