Porcelain Sky

1. Walking up to my house, holding Peaches in my arms, as Gus climbs out of the van behind me, the realization dawning on me that that beeping sound is getting louder and is coming from inside my house.  Understanding and dread fill my chest.  I put Peaches on the grass and hope she stays put.  There's no flame, but smoke fills the house from floor to ceiling and I carry the blackened pot outside.

2. Sitting on my armchair, almost midnight, nursing babe in my arms and tears.  It's over 24 hours later.  I'm exhausted, overwhelmed and feeling helpless. I feel like the smoke made my throat worse.  I worry that the smell will never go away.  I'm embarrassed to have my father-in-law visit.  I worry about how the lingering smell will effect my kids.  I work hard to keep any shred of guilt at bay.  I am scared that Chris seems to have no idea how I feel and that scares me more than anything else that has happened. 

3. A few days later, he writes an email asking some friends for some help cleaning up the place saying, "We left a pot on the stove... "

We did no such thing.  I did it.  But I love him for writing that.

4. Stuffed animals strewn across our backyard.  A wedding gown, two bridesmaids dresses and a suit hang from the deck cover.  A half-empty bottle of febreeze.  Mounds of laundry on the basement floor - the smoke-free zone.  Another mound still left in the laundry room.  The ironing board stands waiting.

5. I stand at my open doorway with a baby gate in place and relish the wind blowing through my house.  I thank God for the unseasonably cool weather that permits us to have open doors and windows with out worrying about heating our house, making it uncomfortable to sleep in.  We learn that opening our doors will cool the place much more quickly that we would have that possible and make a mental note to use this at the temperature will creep higher again in the weeks to come.

6. Flour, potatoes, coffee tins, canned tomatoes and apple juice cartons sitting in piles on our kitchen floor.  Any counter space covered with dishes.  Friends come armed with extra rags and buckets and diligently take on our floors and cupboards, shifting over the jars of vinegar, the bowls of baking soda.  Watermelon, cantaloupe and pineapple my mother provided waits for us when we need a break from odour and wrinkled hands and sore necks.

7. Eight days later is Canada's 142nd birthday.  Some friends are in the laundry-free backyard, watching toddlers pull each other around in wagons and the crawlers eat dirt and get wet in the kiddie pool.  Pictures are taken.  We eat burgers and salads made from backyard produce.  Someone pulls out an ice cream cake.  When they come inside, no one notices the smell.  Only the floors are left to clean.

[I began this last week, but am only just getting to post now.  Life has been full since then - a quick weekend trip, which was preceded by a minor crisis at home.  Smoke damage sucks.  Please return to your regular programming.]

I'm taking a page out of Jess's book blog.  Here' goes:

1. What author do you own the most books by?  Madeleine L'Engle, Gordon Korman and J.K. Rowling.  And I'm not counting the entire Anne of Green Gables series which I snagged when our librarian was turfing a bunch of old copies last year.  I like them well enough, but I'm not over the moon like most folk, it's just something I feel I ought to have in my library and, c'mon - the have hard covers and were free!

2. What book do you own the most copies of?  The Bible.  Versions galore, including in Koine Greek which I can't read but my husband can.

3. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?  Faramir

4. What book have you read the most times in your life?  Hmmm... Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, and perhaps some Bruno and Boots books. 

5. Favorite book as a ten year old? I Want to Go Home! by Gordon Korman.  Seriously, I would laugh out loud over and over again.  [Salate!]  After that, Babysitter's Club like any self-respecting 10-year-old.

6. What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year? Twilight, or perhaps the second one, New Moon, was it?

7. What is the best book you’ve read in the past year? What's So Amazing About Grace, followed by The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop.

8. If you could force everyone you know to read one book, what would it be? Jess has the most awesome answer: "People shouldnt' be forced to read."  And the English teacher in me says, Yes!  Except, well, except for The Little Prince. ;)

9. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read? One: The Kite Runner, but becaue it contains kids and injustice and I read it when I was less than 2 months post partum.  If I'd read it when I was 17, it wouldn't have been nearly as gut wrenching.  Two: Vanity Fair because after about 200 pages I was thinking Alright Thackery, I get it!  Satire.  But no, I had to slog through another 300 pages because I had a paper coming my way.  Runners Up: Lolita and Jude the Obscure.

10. What are you reading right now? 2006 Best Science Writing, Ed. Atul Gawande.

Go here to check out a reporter who connected the dots between . . .  Dion's interview with CTV last October in the last week of the election campaign,. . .  the airing and criticism of the whole interview by Mike Duffy, . . . the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council's ruling on the two pieces, and . . . Duffy's appointment to the Senate as a Conservative.

Sighs.

I remember back in October being bummed about the fact that Dion wasn't given a fair shake for, to me, really superficial reasons.  Like the fact that he's very well lettered, experienced and respected academic and politician.  Heaven forbid we have someone intelligent in the PMO!  Sure, folks may not have agreed with his politics or ideas - fine - but that's different than these kind of barbs.

I had heard of the CBSC's ruling a few weeks ago and noticed that is was underplayed.  CTV should have at least hung their heads in shame.

h/t - Constant Vigilance

We've been having those days - the ones where it starts out all sunshiney, then gets hot, then windy and when you go to the park, you feel like you're just walking in a hair dryer.

It's looking like rain.  Or lightning.   This means more fires in our parched forests.  Well, that, along with the asinine behaviour of campers who don't put out their campfires, will likely mean Chris being at the office during the weekend again. 

All this is a meaningless preamble to my thirteen things, because that is what I do if I feel like it on Fridays.

1. I made a matchbox.
2. I have fulfilled a wish for my sister.
3. I've enjoyed watching my daughter crawl in and out of her fort repeatedly.
4. I hosted friends for an overnight visit.
5. I've wished we made more time to visit people ourselves.
6. I've returned books.
7. I ate ice cream.
8. I've done laundry.
9. I took a tour of a fire hall.
10. I've cuddled a two year old.  In this case, it was my own.
11. I've discovered that my patience of my political representatives is running very, very low.
12. I was a confidante.
13. I missing someone who hasn't even left yet.

Remember - only YOU can prevent forest fires.

Thankful.
[The week started out well, despite Chris's 4 day and 3 night planned absence for work.  There was lots of love and calls and even an evening when friends brought by food, cleaned my kitchen then stayed while my babes slept I got to the gym for a great workout.  The body of Christ serves me.  I am grateful.]

Rooted.
[We had some good days, the kiddos and I.  We stuck close to home.  I felt it best since it was the first time Gus really had a grip on what Daddy being gone meant - we was clingy to Chris just before he left and lately hasn't really been excited at the idea of going out, though he's ok when we do.  But this time around, home was best.] 

Solo.
[Chris was scheduled to be home in time for dinner on Thursday night, but that was not taking into account a large forest fire, and the role he plays as the map guy for provincial emergencies for our region.  Late work on Thursday, a 12 hour day on Friday (when we thought he'd be home) and about 8 hours at the office during the weekend, most of which was during the evening dinner and bedtime hour.  Though he was in and out, I began to feel more alone than I did the days before.]

Unwell.
[Saturday night Chris was home for a few hours.  We decided to go out for dinner - treat ourselves with that overtime pay.  We walked into the restaurant and three...two...one: Gus threw up.  A lot.  We got some pizza instead and ate at home.  Over the next 2 days, both kids would empty their stomach twice and Chris and I would experience unsettled stomachs.  Oh, and my eyelid swelled.  It's better now.]

Weary.
[It's not about the sleep, though I find I need a lot of it.  It's not even about the kids being sick, it didn't change up our routine too much except add a load or 2 of laundry and add disinfectant to the grocery list.  I feel like I need to recharge, but I'm not sure how: workout?  books?  my journal and a latte?  nap?]

How are you spending Memorial Day?

Officially, I'm not marking Memorial Day at all.  We don't have it here in the Great White North.  Our equivalent is held on November 11th, marking the official end of WWI (treaty was signed on the 11th hour (which is when we observe a minute of silence) on the the 11th day of the 11th month).  So my Memorial Day is free to observe other things, like my thirtieth birthday.

I got to make myself some cake - I chose a no-bake cheesecake which is chilling as we speak.  My kids got me a pastry cutter and a bambu pot scraper, both things I'd had my eye on.  Last week some cash and coffee money made it my away along with some kootsacs which I used today for my spilt peas and lentils.  Last Friday night my sister and brother-in-law and my nephew arrived and we started the weekend with my gift: a night out for Chris and I.  It was great.  On Sunday, a friend left me a card and a copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard.  Today, part I (knitting needles) of my gift from my in-laws was joined by part II - a vegetarian cookbook I've been hankering after. (Along with some cute clothes for the kiddos they got when in Hawaii last week.)  A couple of co-workers called to sing happy birthday, facebook loves me, and Chris's gift for me (of which I have an inkling) in en route in the mail.

Low-key and lovely.  Perfect.

 

Loathing:

• Why am I feeling so wound up about politics and our electoral system?  This is new to me; unlike the previous-me.  I don't like it.  I think.
• Weak options.
• Eating way too many butterscotch chips at once.
• That we're likely to re-elect a premier who has a drunk driving conviction obtained while premier.  Blech.
• When my computer won't read my camera's digital picture card.
• Not going for a run today. 
  

• Interactive Election Results Maps.
• A new baby!  (No - not me.  But one of my best friends just adopted - yahoo!)
  
• The Order of the Phoenix
• The possibility of working as an electoral officer on day.  I think that'd be cool.
• Learning about the evacuation of Dunkirk
• Fulfilling wishes.
• Liver.
• Gardens that sprout.

Observations made during this latest election season.

(Please note that all statements are meant to be general to my population and not specific.)

1. It seems that we do not seem to hold the principles of democracy in high esteem

Democracy means giving voice to the people, even if you don't like what people are saying.  From one conversation, said in a disapproving tone: "Well, STV means someone from the Marijuana Party could get in." * Now, that person is entirely correct - a representative from this party could get in, if s/he had enough votes.  So what?  If enough people vote for it, it can happen. That is how our representative democracy works.  On my part, I certainly don't agree with my fellow voters at every turn, but I must be willing to accept their choices and the outcome. (Until the next election, that is. ;) 

1. We seem to be expecting less and less of our representatives in government.

Let me back me back up a bit:

Under STV and the way we've historically voted, there is a likelihood of returning a minority government to the legislature.  Some see minority governments as ineffectual and that majorities are necessary for "anything to get done.  After all, [the politicians] can't get things done very well as it is."  (Quote from another recent conversation.)  With this (not unwarranted) criticism, I see a lowering of the bar when it comes to the job performance of our representatives - we assume that since they don't get on well right now, having more opinions in the mix (even if they are desired, ie:voted in, by the population) to be a negative thing.  I feel that we have a right to demand our representatives get along and compromise and “get things done” because they are the ones we've asked to it and by taking office, they've agreed. It shouldn't matter if we are asking them to work with a minority or a majority.   Finger pointing isn't the point, getting on with task of governing our province regardless of who you have to work with, is. By saying no to STV simply because we don't have faith in our politicians to get along seems to be flipping our priorities – it's the politicians who need to shape up. 

I first began to really notice the ramifications of this with the confidence crisis last winter. Just like with the outcry with the possibility of a coalition forming (specifially against the idea that such a move would be illegal and/or undemocratic), it would seem that people do not understand how our current electoral system works. If one does not understand how our current first-past-the-post system works, they aren't as likely to understand why it's ineffective. As a result, convincing people why or how change is important meets with resistance. Lack of education seems to leave people open to responding to, what essentially amounts to as fear-mongering. Even I've been struck with doubt after reading a particularly persuasive piece before I head back to the basics of the systems and examine the arguments. The point is, I understand a lot about this and even I fall prey to it; how much easier it would be if I wasn't adequately informed. Just this weekend I read an op-ed piece our local paper that used the Stanley Cup finals as an analogy to STV. Sadly, the analogy is, at best, misleading, and at worst, false. (For those who have seen it, because it's been circulating other places – you can't get SEATS without the VOTES. Votes can't trump seats, no matter what system you're in. Oh, and we're in a multi-party system where there are many winners (of seats), so that muddies the waters, too.)

The current major parties have been pretty quiet about STV overall and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if that has spread some mistrust of STV as well. (Without them taking the time to rectify anything.) STV turns out a legislature far more reflective of the majority vote that our current system. Far, far better, in fact. Currently, a government can (and has) gained all of the power with only 30 – 40% of the votes. Therefore it is not in the best interest of the current major parties to change the electoral system. However, it is certainly in the best interest of the electorate, us.

I understand that there are plenty of people out there who heartily disagree with the positions I take. I'm quite alright with that. I don't want to sound as arrogant as some politicians I hear who make out anyone who disagrees with them to be a simpleton, or moronic. However, it is important that the conclusions drawn come from the facts and information even if our interpretations are different.

So get education and get out the vote!

*My apologies to those supporters of this party.  I use it as an example because, you must admit, we're not likely to elect a party whose primary platform has to do with legalizing a drug.  Just saying. 

In about five days, the province I live in is holding an election to fill up our legislature again.  I think I've decided for whom I'll vote, but I feel like it's a lesser of evils; I just can't find the right combo of party policy, leadership qualities and representative acumen.  I'm starting to get rather depressed about it.

However, for me, this election cycle has a lot less to do with who we send back to represent us and more to do with deciding how we do that in the future.  Along with casting ballots, we're also being asked to decide whether or not we want to change our electoral system from the current first-past-the-post system.  It's called the Single Transferable Vote (STV) and is a form of proportional representation (used in many, many European counties) with our form being almost identical to that of Ireland. 

I've done a lot of reading on the subject from both sides of the argument.  I recognize fully that there will be some not-so-great possibilities, but no worse that what we currently face and have decided that, in the balance, I think this electoral process is a good one and should be used here.  I feel like it would result in a legislature far more representative (truly) than our current system.  And I feel very strongly about this.

The 'yes' side to this debate has a lot of work to do.  It has to work against inertia.  STV isn't as obvious to people and it requires people take time to be educated.  It's far harder to effect change; people choose the path of least resistance and, given the time I've spent talking to different people and reading the letters to the editor and the sound bites on TV, I'm don't think that education is really happening.  No, I'm not saying that just because someone disagrees with me that they aren't educated on the subject.  What I am hearing, however, are a lot of statements made against the system, but when questioned further, they don't actually know how or even why those statements are or aren't true.  (There's a lot of misinformation out there, too.) 

Essentially, I'll be surprised if the referendum passes because I believe that people will take the path of least resistance and embrace the devil the know (so to speak.)

And this really, really, bums me out.  I get depressed and frusterated.  Chris gets angry. 

Last week while talking about democracy and politics, we realized that we're getting pretty riled about it.  We had to take a moment to realize that, though not insignificant, we can't let politics dictate our own attitudes and focus and response to life.  God is still God regardless of who governs, regardless of our electoral system.  Life marches on.
That thought calms me, encourages me.

And then the things of life happen around me: Joyful things.  Painful things.  People get sick and injured.  People make poor choices.  People make good ones.  Lives change unimaginably in a moment.  Suddenly I'm praying like I've been given new wind.  Life is marching on.  My mind swirls.  People become more important again.  Politics fade a bit.

I'll still vote next week.  I'll continue to ask that others do, too.  It is still significant, after all.  And though I may be disappointed (intertia, remember?) I can be assured that God hasn't changed, that people are imprortant and that joy can be found in a lot of places.