girls are weird.

30 June 2005

new day

Thank you for all of your very kind words and for thinking about me. It truly means a great deal to me. I wish you all chocolate-coated love, delivered by nude firemen/showgirls (delete as appropriate or feel free to add your own).

I've been thinking about home a lot lately because of my grandpa, having just read another Kathy Reichs book, and preparing for our Canada Day festivities. Celebrating Canada Day is slightly tongue in cheek (we're not renowned for being overly patriotic), but it is important to me that Jack learns about his Canadian roots, even at this early age. Starting, of course, with an introduction to Canadian beer. I managed to get my hands on some beer via a company based in Norfolk. The only Canadian "beer" you can usually find here is Labatt Ice (ewwwwwwww) and Moosehead (slightly less ewwwwww but still not very imaginative). Although the selection was very limited, I got some Sleeman's honey brown ale, and two from Quebec: La Fin du Monde, and Maudite. It pains me to think how much this cost in Canadian dollars (I'll give you an idea: one bottle of Sleeman's was £0.99/$2.25 CDN), but it warms the cockles of my heart to see bilingual labelling and a little glass-embossed beaver on each bottle.

My friend Ruth and I were discussing Canadian food, and I always get stumped by this. Quebec has its tourtiere, pea soup, poutine, tarte au sucre, beaver tails (not real ones, stop giggling), and other such goodies, but do any other provinces have dishes they can call their own (the only thing that springs to mind are Nanaimo bars)? When we say "Canadian food" here, people think maple syrup and pancakes with bacon. Unfortunately, we are so saturated by American culture that we don't have a lot of our own, from a culinary perspective - Kraft Dinner excluded. I grew up eating burgers, hot dogs, and pizza, and going to American chain restaurants like Red Lobster. My childhood food experience was unique thanks to the Japanese side of my family including things like sushi and green tea in traditional holiday meals, but on the most part, we ate "American" food. Maybe that's what defines Canadian food - taking dishes from various cultures and incorporating them into our "traditional" meals. So many of us come from a variety of ethnic backgrounds, and being a new country in the relative scheme of things, maybe that's why we haven't established many traditional dishes that are uniquely Canadian.

And so, for our barbecue, I shall present my English/Kiwi/Irish/Welsh/Italian friends with beer and maple syrup poured on something (haven't decided what yet) and we shall wave little flags around and say "eh?" all day long. Half of us will speak French (and those speaking English will have to do so at half the volume) and perhaps we will hold a referendum if things get dull (we can vote on whether or not London should be sawn off and relocated down the Thames). We can play road hockey out front, which is ideal as we live on a cul de sac. It'll be lots of very polite and orderly fun!*

*(Note to those coming over on Saturday: I'm joking about the events/activities listed here. Don't worry; we'll likely just burn something to a crisp, get a sunburn, drink too much, and I'll endure endless jokes about Celine Dion and beavers.)

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

26 June 2005

missing

My grandpa passed away this morning after having a stroke on Wednesday morning. He would have turned 88 this November, and up until recently, was always fairly healthy. However, after my grandma died in 1991 from ovarian cancer, my grandfather's mental health rapidly deteriorated. At first he was simply absentminded, forgetting a few unimportant things here and there. Over the following years, he thought his neighbours were trying to steal his house, he would drive places and forget how he got there, and eventually, he had no idea who any of us were. Despite all this, he was still in good physical health and thoroughly enjoyed seeing us, even though he hadn't a clue that we were related. The last time I saw him was at Christmas a few years ago, and he said "I have no idea who any of you people are, but it was really nice of you to invite me over." with a genuinely pleased smile on his face.

He was amongst the thousands of Japanese Canadians who lost their homes, businesses, and almost all of their possessions during World War 2. He was apart from my grandma when she was pregnant with my oldest uncle, because men and women were interned in prison camps separately. He managed to get work as a truck driver during the war, and the family were forced to relocate from British Columbia thousands of miles east to Ontario afterwards. There they became fruit pickers, and eventually he worked in the Del Monte factory until he retired. He always said that they were lucky; others were sent to work in beet fields in Alberta, which he thought was much worse. He was immensely proud of his successful children and was infinitely pleased that they fared much better than he. In this respect, he maintained that a great deal of good came out of what was a horrific experience during wartime. Never bitter, never regretful.

He loved the Yankees (they were simply a much better team than the Blue Jays), Swiss Chalet, growing vegetables in his garden, beer and tomato juice, his baseball caps, and most of all, my grandma. He was my last living grandparent and it breaks my heart to know that Jack won't meet him. At the very least, I will make sure Jack knows all about his great grandparents on both sides, so that they will still be around in some way.

Being a grown up really, really sucks sometimes.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

21 June 2005

spaced

Enough with the heat, already. I am not built for hot weather - I have black hair, I can't wear skimpy clothing, and my skin recoils in horror from the sun and turns an angry shade of red after 10 minutes (then fades back to its usual bluish-white hue). The ants have returned, along with a million different species of spiders, gigantic houseflies that can't comprehend that large open windows provide a means of escape and smacking your tiny little body into a closed window repeatedly is not accomplishing anything, and some sort of large spindly insect that looks like a Mayfly. Maybe they are Mayflies, I have no idea, but they are big and keep landing on me. A huge bumblebee trundled through the living room yesterday (but at least bees are clever and can find their way out an open window), there was a beetle in the bathroom this morning, and there's something sticky on my basil plant that is undoubtedly caused by one of the several varieties of wildlife currently taking over our house. At night, I'm half expecting to hear a tiny little insecty voice say to me "Shove over - you're taking all the covers."

We ventured out into the heat on Sunday for a family Father's Day outing at the National Space Centre. Every time we drove up the M1 and saw the sign for this place, we always wondered what it contained. Mystery solved; it's full of kid-friendly information about space and it was quite fun. Pictures of our day out can be seen here. Apologies for the picture quality, but I used my old digital camera and it was fairly dark in most of the building.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

17 June 2005

sitting in an inflatable pool filled with frozen peas

Man, it's hot today. It's only around 25C (that's approx. 80F to my American friends), but I think I've lost my tolerance for hot weather since moving to the UK. I took Jack to Tesco today to do some grocery shopping, and I lingered in the chilled food aisles. When I say "lingered", I mean I stood for several minutes staring at different varieties of cheese when I had absolutely no intention of buying any, just to keep cool. I dove to the bottom of the ice cream freezer although I could have just plucked a carton from the top. I took the scenic route home so that we could enjoy the air conditioning in the car for a few minutes longer.

I am now a weather wimp - anything around 5C is too chilly and anything over 20C is uncomfortably warm. I have forgotten what -38C winters feel like, standing in the bitter cold, waiting for a bus that may or may not arrive. I do remember one typical summer night when it was still 40C at midnight and none of us had air conditioning. We hopped in my friend's car and drove around, in search of places with air conditioning that were open 24 hours a day. We wandered around pharmacies, supermarkets, and video stores, until we got fed up and went back to our tropical apartments. Being too hot is the worst; at least when you're cold, you can build up layers of clothing to get warmer. When you're hot and devoid of air conditioning, you cannot go beyond being naked with a fan blowing warm air on your sticky flesh.

Where the hell is the ice cream man when you need him?

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

13 June 2005

a song for canada

Well, whaddya know - I had more Canadian music in my possession than I thought. I forgot about Tal Bachman and Manitoba (recommended if you're a Lemon Jelly fan). So far I've got one hour's worth of CanCon. Thanks for the suggestions so far...keep 'em coming!

Merci merci merci Martine pour toute la musique! Martine sent me 8 songs which I am now putting on to my iPod to listen to later. Bisous!

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

canada aid

Hello, my lovely (and undoubtedly sexy) readers. If I may be so bold, I would like your assistance on two matters.

First, I will be doing a 5k waddle (what I do these days can't count as walking) for Cancer Research UK on Sunday, July 3. Please sponsor me using the link in the blurb above, and I will love you forever. But not in that kind of way, sorry. I'm spoken for.

Second, we are having a Canada Day BBQ to introduce our son to an important part of his cultural heritage: eating grilled meat and drinking beer. In trying to keep up as much CanCon as possible, I need suggestions for good Canadian music to play at the party. Conditions: no Celine/Avril/Bryan/Barenaked Ladies, preferably something from this decade (before PaulG suggests Loverboy, Platinum Blonde, or the Spoons), and it can be either in French or English. So far, I've mustered up a few songs from my collection from Bran Van 3000, Our Lady Peace, Tragically Hip, and Sloan, but I'm severely lacking in Canuck music. Song suggestions or, better yet, songs sent to me (or let me know where I can download them) in mp3 format would be greatly appreciated. I've been out of the Canadian music loop too long and have no idea what's out there anymore. Please leave suggestions in the comments here, or email me at broad[at]wittydomainname[dot]com.

Thank you!

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

08 June 2005

doesn't anyone ask for a cup of sugar anymore?

The doorbell rang a few minutes ago. It was two women asking if I knew sign language or knew anyone in the area who did. I thought about it for a second (all I know is the alphabet and two rude words taught to me by a friend with a deaf boyfriend), but I couldn't think of anyone I could recommend. They thanked me and went on their way. It's only just struck me to ask them why they needed someone who can sign. Now I'll never know.

Truly, life gets a lot more surreal when you're not in an office all day.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

07 June 2005

that's right, i have no life

I feel it's my duty to provide the general public with my guide to this year's Big Brother contestants. Well that and I've run out of things to blog about, so bear with me. Apologies in advance to those of you outside the UK, or who are in the UK and don't give a rat's tuckus about Big Brother.

Lisa's Guide to the Big Brother housemates

Anthony: He's a "70s dancer", which you can apparently list as a profession when you are a Big Brother contestant. I have no idea what this entails, but it strikes me as odd that someone born in the 80s can make a living as a 70s dancer.
Craig: He's a hairdresser, he's bitchy, he's camp, but he's not gay, thank you very much!
Derek: He is gay, and a Tory to boot. He's ever so posh and speaks like Dr. Seuss has written his dialogue. One morning he waxed lyrical while doing the dishes (alone), and uttered the line: "Will I sparkle and shine? Fame will be mine!"
Kemal: Often seen tottering around the house in black underwear and stilettos, Kemal is loud and proud. During his entrance to the house, part of his rather flamboyant outfit got caught on the stairs, leading to his best line: "Veil, don't let me down, bitch!" Enjoys taking baths in the bin.
Lesley: She's got the "only boobs in the village." Claims to have the biggest breasts in Huddersfield and sounds like a cross between Caroline Aherne's checkout girl and Vicki Pollard.
Makosi: Provided the best moments in week one when her secret mission (doled out by Big Brother because she was the "unlucky 13th contestant") was to obtain the most nominations that week. If she got the most nominations, she would be immune from the public vote, and hooooo boy, did she ever. Unfortunately she still seems to think that she's on this mission, as she continues to provoke housemates into hating her.
Mary: First out of the house, which is a shame. She has got to be the loopiest contestant in BB history having claimed to be a witch, psychic, abducted by aliens several times, and told housemates that BB was going to bring her dog into the house. She doesn't own a dog. Barking.
Maxwell: The Geezer, all round lad, aspires to have Saskia's boobs in his face. Has yet to do much of interest, so he'll be in the house until the very end.
Roberto: The handsome Italian who brought his own apron into the house and argues with everyone for no particular reason. He looks like he smells good, but I suspect he waxes his eyebrows.
Sam: She's "the horny one" (as she likes to remind us repeatedly). Has a mouth like Jack Nicholson in Batman, which is slightly unsettling. Someone hid her makeup bag which led to a hissy fit because "it's got my lip gloss in it and EVERYTHING!"
Saskia: Aspires to be a footballer's wife. Most likely to succeed.
Science: He's a bad ass rapper from the streets (of Leeds) who enjoys throwing bins at Maxwell. Um, but it just slipped out of his hands by accident, innit.
Vanessa: Apparently there's someone in the house called Vanessa, who claimed on her audition tape that she's "spontaneous" and "too loud". On the first occasion we actually see her speak, she spills the beans about who she is going to nominate and effectively voids the week's nominations - this week, everyone's up for eviction thanks to her. I suspect we'll never hear her speak again.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

03 June 2005

thank heaven for not so little girls

Curvy women are more likely to live longer than their slimmer counterparts, researchers have found. [source]

And do you want to know why us curvy girls live longer? Because we don't stress ourselves by counting calories, replacing meals with rice cakes, and depriving ourselves of Green and Black's vanilla ice cream. Instead, we say "Why yes, I would like that entire tray of brownies" with a huge grin and a positive outlook on life.

Oh yes, I'm gonna live forever.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --