Ground Control to Col. Hadfield

When I was a kid, I would spend endless nights in a Western Canada prairie field looking up to the galaxy with all wonder. As a budding geek, I found nothing more humbling than to watch the night sky pass over me and begin to understand how small we are as humans on this blue water marble. Part of my astronomy interest was fuelled by my mentor Cecile "Ceece" Person, a family friend but also a well known local physicist and astronomer. Ceece kindled my interests of the stars, planets, and all the possibilities beyond. Although my science journey ventured into the micro world rather than macro, Ceece was a big part of my inbred curiosity to "question everything". To this day, whenever I'm out in some farmer's field looking up to the night sky (which happens at least once a month), I often think of Ceece and how he would smile at me still being awestruck with the celestial heavens and proud that I ventured into a science career.

Regina, SK from the International Space Station.
Photo credit: Chris Hadfield

Mentorship is an essential spark for the next generation of science - no matter if it's within the laboratory under a microscope or on the International Space Station (ISS). For the past 5 months, the world has been treated with an intimate and informative look at life of being on the ISS thanks to Col. Chris Hadfield. It's safe to say that the Canadian Space Agency hasn't been on the minds of many Canadians (or the world for that matter) until Chris popped up on twitter and facebook to document his tour on the ISS. Thanks to the invention of social media, Chris managed to do what no one has done before: share his own personal daily wonder of being in space with those grounded on Earth. In the midst of all his normal astronaut duties and science experiments, Chris would take photos of cities (including my home town!),  natural structures, and sunrises/sunsets as the ISS passed overhead, diligently answer endless streams of questions from adults and children all over the world about science and space, and would share his humanity in a song or comical skit. Chris became the human face of the ISS and the space program - probably when this science program needed it the most. Chris' humbled efforts have fuelled the imaginations of people (both young and old) to encourage them to look up, ask questions, and be curious about ourselves. There's no doubt that Chris became a mentor to the next generation of the space program and science, but also he inspired people in the arts to create. "One giant leap...." indeed.

Just like Ceece inspired me, thanks to Chris' influence, somewhere, some clear night, there will be an extra kid in a field (most likely more than one), looking up to the night sky with the same sense of wonder that I still have. Who knows what good ripples of Chris' efforts will have on science and art in the coming decades.

Thanks Chris.

Watch Chris' last recorded song on the ISS; such a fitting farewell to his remarkable tour on his "tin can far above the World".

Thrilling the world

To be a legit child from the 80s there were two albums that you were required to own: Madonna's Like A Virgin and Michael Jackson's Thriller. The latter got more wear in my walkman. Although I was never a die hard fan of the late King of Pop, he did make unforgettable music and changed the way music videos were made with his epic zombie dance troop (for those unaware, MTV did actually show music videos, it isn't an urban myth!).

Early on in October, I was hanging out with zombies at the River City Zombie Walk where I got word about Thrill The World movement. I have seen many flash mobs and wedding dances where folks performed the Thriller dance, but I wasn't aware of this annual event where people around the world would dance simultaneously to the song. Oh the cool things humans do.

Curious whether the Edmonton group would allow public photographers on site, I emailed the head organizer Chels to get permission to take a few shots of the action. She gave me more than that: she named me the lead photographer of the event. Whoa.

Soon enough, last Saturday I found myself behind the scenes as people gathered to zombify themselves and take to the stage for the full 6 minute dance. This year there were 15 official dancers on the floor representing Edmonton's Thrill The World group (16 and 1/2 if you count a dedicated dad and his daughter on stage right). Chels blew everyone away with the level of organization of the event. It wasn't just a dance, but a charity event of Muscular Dystrophy Canada (the silent auction raised over $500) and a kids workshop to learn the Thriller dance. Everyone, zombie and human alike won that day. Mad Beaker Award to Chels and the zombie troop for thrilling our little part of the world. May you rise again in 2013!

The 2012 Edmonton Thrill the World dance group

After a month of being around so many zombies, I decided to indulge myself with the ways of the dead on All Hallow's Eve. When in Rome...

My eyeballs are normally this bloodshot.

A brush with comic con greatness

Deep breath. Confession time:

Hi, I'm Nanc, and I'm a comic con addict.

Luckily for me, the organizers of the Calgary Expo have got my back. After this year's HUGE attendance (over 60K attendees), they decided that that wasn't enough comic convention for Alberta and put together one in Edmonton 6 months later. I swear these expo organizers do not sleep.

On a cold October morning last weekend, Edmonton embraced its inner nerd for the first time. There was a lot of nervousness whether the con would pull any interest. The guest line up was impressive for the first con: the TV Batman reunion with Burt Ward and Julie Newmar (Adam West was planning to attend but unfortunately broke his back - insert clever Batman/Bane reference). Jewel Staite and Charisma Carpenter from the Whedon universe. Nichelle Nichols and Billy Dee Williams representing the Star Trek and Star Wars realms, respectively. For gamers they pulled together big names from Bioware and comic folks got to meet legends like Chris Claremont and Mike Grell.  As I stood in line waiting with about 500 people for the doors to open on the first day, I knew that this would become an annual event. And sure enough 14K people ventured out.

Because I'm a long time attendee of the Calgary Expo, I am familiar with some of the organizers - which includes Emily Expo (aka Lindsay Thomas). I didn't know if the Calgary folks were directly helping the Edmonton folks until I saw Emily on the exhibitor floor busily making sure that the guest panels were running smoothly. Emily is considered the face of Calgary Expo (literally! Check out the Expo logo girl!). The next day (back in the line awaiting doors to open), I saw and called her out on the spot - loudly. I thought she might be too busy to stop, but instead she high fived me. I took the opportunity to thank her for being such a great public figure for Albertan Expo cons and that her troops really deserve an award for pulling off not one, but now two big cons every year. Then I indulged myself to ask for a picture with Emily. You must understand that this is the woman who Patrick Stewart kissed on the hand - being in Emily's presence is like 2 degrees of separation to Captain Picard!

Best photo opt ever! 

Thanks Emily and the rest of the Alberta Expo team! 

The Fringe Factor

Every summer for the past 31 years, a little spot in Old Stratchcona comes alive with music, performances, and food. The Edmonton International Fringe Festival is the 2nd largest festival of its kind (Edinburgh touts the top rank). I've always loved the Fringe, its energy is so contagious that you cannot help to walk away with a grin on your face. In addition to its large selection of live indoor stage performances, the outdoor buskers and carnival colours make this festival a great nirvana for photographers.

After having taking a few photography courses, I thought I'd do something different at this year's fringe and apply for the fringe photography volunteer team. Back in April, I submitted my application with a small hopeful portfolio. Months went by with no word and I'd forgotten about it until 4 weeks ago when I got an email welcoming me to the multimedia team. I was glowing! Really? Someone out there thought that my photography skills were worthy enough for a festival THIS BIG? Whoa - easy there ego.

Soon I was sitting in the volunteer orientation, meeting the team leaders, and eventually checking in for my first shift. Each volunteer was assigned to photograph specific subjects for each shift: general festival (buskers/patrons), kids, vendors, volunteers. Most of my shifts were general festival (I was a new recruit, so they started me easy) but I did manage in a few extra shifts of kids' fringe and late night cabaret (photographing people in their underwear was a definite first for me, at least in public... uh, I overshared didn't I?).

"Chris without the hat" at his juggling best

To say that I had a great time is an understatement. I was a kid on Christmas morning, 8 times in 11 days (it was more like Hanukkah!). Having an official status within the festival allowed me to get closer to the action. It meant a greater connection to the performers, organizers, and fellow volunteers. I was able to talk to artists about their trade and learn more of the work behind the curtains that make this festival such a success. To top it off, I learned more about photography from seasoned photographers. One lesson was trying to find THE shot. There's so much action going on during any performance (not only the show itself, but the crowd's reaction or interaction with the performer), it's hard to not have a trigger finger. I did find the 75 shots/shift very limiting, but as the festival wore on, I found that I was taking more quality shots over quantity.

Living statue Daniel Anderson gets Fringe muralized!

To challenge the photography team, there were competitions for the top 25, top 10, and top photo of the day picks. I did manage to make top 25 lists with each day I had a shift (I think everyone made this list). I managed one top 10 list. But the gravy was snatching/snapping two photo of the day. Sadly, I can't show these shots off as the price to pay with volunteering is that all your submitted photos are owned by the Fringe which may be utilized for marketing/promotion purposes. The photos shared here (and my flickr account) were taken on my off days  - yes, this meant I was at the festival almost every day. Go me.

Would I do this again? Absolutely. In fact, this experience has encouraged me seek out more photography volunteer jobs. This is only the beginning.

Winnipeg's Dan and Kimberly Craig from The Street Circus dazzle the night crowd

Battle of the Cons

Another week, another con... these are the days of our lives.

I just returned from another convention - no, not a comic con (see my flickr site for pictures), but a science con. This is a rite of spring within the science world. During all those long months of slaving away in a dark laboratory at the tip of the whip from your PI who yells for "RESULTS?!!!" every Friday at 5PM, the doors are unlocked and we flock to various hotel/conference centre destinations to talk about how we spent ten of thousands of tax-payer dollars, attempt to "network" and "socialize" eventhough we're all awkward scientists, and flaunt "our lab is the bestest" posters while fielding "but your data is shit" questions from a disgruntled colleague who just realized that his project has just been scooped.

As I was sitting in this past week's science seminar talks, I couldn't help start a comparison of comic cons vs. science cons (the more honest story is that my mind wandered/eyes glazed over when some Chemist started gushing about NMR peaks). It's like the age old philosophical geek question: if Science and Comic cons were in a fistfight, who would win?

Venue/Location
Comic cons are held either in a convention centre (San Diego, Vegas, Chicago, etc...) or a hotel halls (Saskatoon, SK or Fargo, ND). It really depends on the star attractions that determines the attendee numbers (50K-100K vs 5K). Some cons (San Diego) require you to buy advance tickets YEARS ahead of the convention itself. People are often comment, "I thought it was just a casual gathering." 20 years ago, yes it was. Nowadays, if you are planning on attending a comic con, you plan it like a major holiday trip. Go big or stay home. However big cons attract the more interesting guests... no right-minded Hollywood big shot will fly to Fargo.

Likewise, Science cons vary in size depending on the draw. Each major science field has an annual MEGA con (for my field, it's ASM). I'm not a fan of the MEGA cons (50K+ attendees) as it's usually a free-4-all with overlapping panel talks and poster sessions that forces you to sprint all over the convention centre the entire time. Anyone you meet or want to meet there never has the time to chat with you. Like Comic cons, there are more intimate gatherings (100-300 attendees) in hotel settings. Unlike Comic cons, the location for these MEGA Science gatherings rotate. Although it's the same general stock of people, the venue is a convention centre in some metropolis city. I'm still waiting for ASM to announce Hawaii as their next locale - the isles will sink due to the sheer influx of scientists who descend upon that convention. Most likely this will be my scenario to such a conference.

Winner: Depends on category, so a tie.
Big cons: Comic (you may feel like cattle standing in the lines, but at least you buy 30 seconds of face time with Sir Patrick Stewart!)
Small cons: Science (you actually get to have a beer with a potential co-authour on your next project)

Big Shot Guest List
Comic cons thrive on nabbing the headliners. Calgary Expo managed to pull off the impossible in getting the entire original TNG cast together on stage. First time in 20 years. Can you imagine if some con was able to reunite the original Star Wars cast? Big names = big crowds = many people having geek-out moments (yours truly included).

Do Science cons have headliners? You betcha! They are called Nobel Prize Laureates. Once at a UCLA MEGA Science convention, I was having a geek-out moment when Sydney Brenner was introduced. The entire auditorium went batshit crazy as Sydney* shuffled across the stage to the podium to speak. Of course he didn't have an autograph session during this conference... but it's not uncommon to ask some big shot to sign one of their articles or memories books.

*ego subnote: if I did an Erdos-Bacon number relation between myself and Sydney, it's 3. My Master's advisor was a grad student in a lab from one of Sydney's grad student. Ergo, Sydney is my lab great grandfather. Oh yes. Oooooh yes!!!


Winner: Comic (sorry Sydney, as awesome as you are, I'd rather hang out with Sir Patrick)

Exhibitors
Need I to remind you that the Comic industry is purely an entertainment industry? It should come to no surprise that over 50% of the convention is wall to wall exhibitors trying to make a (big) buck on your disposable income in forms of books, pictures, art, buttons, toys, etc... I actually rarely/never buy anything at Comic cons. My con money is purely for autographs and/or personalized sketches. If I have books to be signed, they are already part of my personal collection.

Science (arguably) isn't entertainment, but it does spend a pretty penny. At the MEGA cons, you'd be surprised at the size of the exhibitor's hall. Every big (and small) biotech company trying to sell you its newest sero electronic pipette filler that comes in 5 fabulous scents! I hide from these sales rep everytime they darken my laboratory's doorway. However at the con, to lure you into their booth for the 15 min sales pitch, they do offer you free goodies.

Winner: Science (I enjoy my free annual supply of pens, highlighters, floatation devices, stress balls, science geek bumper stickers, rulers, T-shirts, boxer shorts, clipboards, calendars, timers, pedometers, wristbands, headbands, plush toys, etc...)

The N word
When I was a young Masters grad student, my advisor sent me to a MEGA Science con sans poster with the instructions "you will network". At the time, I thought this would mean that I would attempt to locate and procure ethernet access for my advisor. I soon found out that this really meant perfecting my social skills among the science population. No problem for me as I can strike up a conversation with anyone. However I soon discovered that it's true what they say about scientists in general... we fair better at talking with our data than people (one of the main reasons why there's an open bar). But so long as you speak science, you can network your way through any poster session. Often you hear about those racy hook-ups between some grad student and assistant prof (different labs... we hope). Yessiree, that's networking for a new collaboration (especially if the condom breaks). This past Science con, one speaker was a grad student who published in Nature and he was good looking. I was intrigued. I approached him during the dinner session, introduced myself, and found out that this boy could publish his data in Nature but couldn't publish his good looks with good personality. Major "full-of-himself". No problem, the next day's panel talk had a very cute biotech post-doc. Although his company's products were really of no interest, his personality was the closing deal with exchange of email addresses (he could darken my lab's doorway anyday).

Like scientists, Comic con fanfolks are equally awkward to be around... at least in the general public setting. However dress them up as a Jedi or a skin tight leather Catwoman, and they're Mr(s). Popularity. There's even geek speed-dating panel sessions; tho, I've always passed on them this far. Again I have no problem talking to people at the con (in and out of cosplay). I don't dress up, but I am very much a social butterfly as I am fluent in geek and very extroverted within the crowds. This past Comic con, I was approached by 2 media groups asking which newsmagazine I represented (they overheard my "interviews" of various people) and I had to break 3 fanboy hearts. Sorry boys, I was ultra busy networking with comic book artists and the TNG cast. Maybe next year, I will take you all up on those coffees (Ron, if you're somehow reading this... email me!).

Winner: Science. Although Comic con gives a more interesting flavour of the day, the Science con can lead to a new job offer (at least from a scientist's stand point - much different story if you're within the comic/acting industry).

The attire
Above I mentioned the cosplay at Comic con. About 60% of the attendees are dressed in their regular everyday attire (by which I mean geek T-shirt and jeans). The other 40% are full-metal-jacket decked out in costume. Comic cons provide a generally safe-environment for these people who spend thousand of hours and moolah on their favourite character. I say generally safe because there's always bullies. Although I don't dress up (I am honest with myself enough to know that I don't look good in spandex in public OR in private), I do admire those who do. Some are... what the? But most are hella awesome!

Science cons attire: oh what does one wear among the geeks here? In general, good pair of jeans/khakis and nice dress shirt/blouse. For the dinner session, a jacket/tie or skirt is usually the norm. But of course there's the fashion no-nos... like socks in sandals (facepalms).

Winner: Comic. Com'on, who wouldn't want to be in a hall where the norm is capes and tight leather suits? Ok, you don't have to agree with me on this point.

Seminar/Panel Talks
I have heard the comment from folks outside my science circle that when they hear me give a talk, it's like I'm speaking another language. So at Science cons, I'm certain that the people serving our food/drinks must feel like they are in foreign country. The interests of the talks are really based on what your interest is. I just came back from a carbohydrate conference, which is heavy on the chemistry side. I phail at chemistry-speak, so most of the talks I felt like I was on another planet. However when the talks switched to microbiology, ooooh the interest!

At Comic cons, you don't have to be a hardcore fanboy to understand the talks. You just have to have some general knowledge of the geek culture itself (or willing to learn it). Of course you miss out on a lot of subtle inside jokes. Kinda like watching the Big Bang Theory - all the jokes are funny on the surface and funnier than hell if you know the reference.

Winner: Comic. Yes science talks are intriguing and often inspire new ideas for my own projects. But listening to the comical banter between Brent Spiner and Wil Wheaton or hearing first hand Stan Lee's story on why the Hulk changed from grey to green in the comic books - highly more entertaining than any gene expression analysis.

Final Tally Count: Science con 2, Comic con 3. A squeaker folks!

A Trekkie? You?

Right now, I'm sitting in my living room and in front of me is documented proof of bucket list item #5 completed. Oh Calgary Expo Comic Con, how I love thee. I'll blog about the Comic Con experience in another post shortly, but I wanted to share here about my history about being a long time Trekker as a lot of folks have commented: dude, seriously?

Almost 25 years ago, I sat in front of my family's little 8" screen TV and tuned in to see the pilot episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I was 10 years old at the time and already a budding geek with interests in science, space, video gaming, and comics. I knew of the original Star Trek series, but (shocker warning) Captain Kirk and Dr. Spock never really appealed to me. Through my eyes, they were outdated and any episode that I watched seemed boring, corny, or both. However I decided that I'd give this Next Generation a try. Besides, the guy from Reading Rainbow had a role in it and I never missed an episode of that show.

So I tuned in and watched this group of nine people try to save their asses, their ship, and humanity itself (as it was on trial  in this episode) from this omnipotent evil guy called "Q". The Reading Rainbow dude was blind (but he drove the ship!), the Chief Security Officer was a chick, there was this "needs more time in the sun" robot... er, android whom I found annoying, single parent families were the norm, and the Captain was this old British, wait French?, bald dude. After the pilot episode, I turned off the TV, marched up to my mom who was in the kitchen, and declared with all regale formality that I was officially a Star Trek fan.

My mom's answer, "That's nice dear."

Over the next 7 years, I never missed an episode and still have all the original VCR recordings from seasons 2 to 7 (season 1 remained elusive as our household didn't own a VCR at the time). Because I replayed each episode over and over, I can still recite the dialogue word per word of almost every episode (much to my friends' weird looks). Beyond TNG (and soon DS9 and later Voyager) I started immersing myself in all things Trek - learning about each character's background, the Gene Roddenberry's story, the process of filming the episodes, learning to love the original series (Whoa! They made movies too?!), and worrying about the characters who seemed like family to me. I clearly remember screaming loudly at that tiny TV as tears streamed down my face in disbelief when they killed off Tasha Yar (that Chief of Security chick), "You CAN'T kill her! YOU JUST CAN'T!!!" Yesiree, I was an official Trekker.

Why did TNG resonate so passionately with me? I felt that of all the TV shows during my upbringing, TNG not only appealed to geek in me with sci-fi, but understood me and here's the top 3 reasons:

1. Being handicapped doesn't limit your position in society. The blind dude didn't remain the helm pilot during the entire series. No, LaForge was promoted to keep the ship from "being blown to kingdom come" as ship's Chief Engineer. If a blind guy can be accepted as a colleague and become senior staff member of Starfleet's flagship, hey a deaf chick could do anything too (like a Ph.D. in microbiology).

2. The Crusher family storyline hit home with me as I deeply identified with the dialogue between the solo parent and child. Sure, the circumstances were different, but the fact that that social status wasn't an issue gave me hope that I did have a chance in life. As a kid growing up, I was branded "at-risk child" in my school system just because I didn't have a dad. If it wasn't enough to be bullied for being the deaf kid in a regular school system, I was also "that deaf chick from a broken home who you shouldn't be friends with because she's a bad influence". In the 24th century, being raised solely raised by your mom was regarded normal and even commended. Plus you got Captain Picard as your father figure role model. How cool is that?

3. Women can be strong leaders. This aspect of TNG has been mentioned over and over. At the time that the series was airing on the networks, the women's movement was still a huge issue. Except for Kate Mulgrew's Mrs. Columbo (where Mulgrew went on to become Capt. Janeway of the Star Trek Voyager series) and Kate Jackson's role in Scarecrow and Mrs. King, I didn't have many strong female role models to watch on TV. But with TNG, I saw Yar, Dr. Crusher, and Troi every week tackling various issues. I especially admired Crusher - not only being a single mom, but also a scientist. Often when I'm in the lab and suddenly realize that I haven't had lunch or supper, I can hear Dr. Crusher saying, "Sometimes I get so busy with research, I forget to eat!" (Lower Decks, Season 7)

Two years later after TNG premiered, I convinced my mom to drive me 3 hours to another city to attend my first Star Trek/comic con. She dropped me off at the door to the hotel lobby and I found myself with 500 people that loved Star Trek not as much as I did, but way, way, WAY more. Nichelle Nichols (Lt. Uhura) was the main (and only) guest star at that con 23 years ago. She graciously answered throngs of questions, sang for us, and signed my very first autograph picture! Although I was surrounded by strangers, I felt at ease and comfortable with them. They understood me and I understood them. After that experience, I made a point to visit any convention nearby and bucket list item #5 was written: to meet and thank the entire TNG cast in person. Thanks Calgary Expo for "making it so".

Getting "The Call"

I'm eating lunch and my mobile buzzes crazily. Five texts, from someone who I have no idea, begging me to play goal for them. I am an on-call goalie for several leagues, so this isn't out of the norm, but this catches my eye, "need you to play for Edmonton in the Provincials in two weeks".


Echo: the Provincials... Provincials... Provincials...

Cue the choking on my lunch.

Those who aren't familiar with Women's hockey, the Provincials are a big deal. Women's hockey doesn't have the same exposure as Men's hockey with various pro-leagues. There's no Women's NHL but a mostly unknown Canadian Interuniversity Sport (CIS) league. In Women's hockey, to be a professional player, you're either on the National team or a CIS team or (most typically) both. The next level down is playing at the Provincials. So being on a recreational team and called to join a Provincial contender team is like being on a WHL/AHL team called to play in the NHL Stanley Cup playoffs.


My knee jerk reaction:

However, my first text response: You do realize that I'm a rec level goalie? (Hey, I have to be honest here, in case this was a mistaken identity)
Provincial team captain: Oh yeah! That's no issue with us. Besides you come highly recommended!
Uh, thanks... who recommended me?
Lynn (a league referee - thanks Lynn!). We're really needing an answer in the next 24h to make the carding deadline. Can you commit?
(Talk about pressure) I am very interested in playing, but there's also the issue of getting a release from my current teams. I need to contact my current rec team Captain to ensure everything's kosher.
Great! Let me know when you hear!


So my people talked to their people who talked to the Hockey Alberta league people, I'm feeling like a young guy on trade deadline day, and suddenly I'm in Banff suiting up for my first game.

We were able to win the first game (3-1, take that Calgary!), but lost the next two games (0-2 and 1-9...ouchie). The last game I felt horrible, but considering that we weren't discipline enough to keep out of the penalty box (note the penalty against us coming up in the last picture) and the opposing team was the team who won the Cup, it didn't seem so bad in the end. And besides, I kept my promise to myself that I would keep any game "goals against" score under 10.


Overall, the experience was fantastic! I never played at such a high level. Although I was very nervous, I surprised myself with denying some break-aways and great glove catches. I felt like a pro player with between period ice floods. A 15 min break/breather between periods in the dressing room, with fresh Gatorade awaiting us - imagine that! My body survived the 2 days, though the next week after I was kindly reminded that I'm not in my mid 20s.


Post game drinks with the team (as I was still trying to remember everyone's name) involved some wooing conversation that "You're not a rec goalie, you're a pro goalie. Your talents are being wasted at the lower level tiers! Come play with us full time next year!" My rec league team captain cornered me right after that weekend and said, "You're staying with us as long as you stay in this city." Nice to be wanted.


I must give a huge thanks to everyone who bought meat/cabbage rolls for this event's fundraiser. I do hate begging for money to something that people can't directly enjoy with me. With every save I managed to make (and I did have a fair share of them), I named each one after you guys.

Bucket listings...

Holy - May 2011 was my last check in here? So much for that 2011 resolution: one blog/month. Eh. It's not like there's a race going on here.

So 2011 is finito and onwards the 2012. Update of sorts:

Last blog post was about me discovering that I kinda like gardening/planting. Main thing I learnt about that: don't plant your strawberries under a clothes dryer vent. It wasn't even my vent, but rather my neighbour's vent that for some reason is on my side of the fence. So no berries to enjoy, but I did get the "tomato plant that keeps on giving". I never had so many tomatoes before. The flowers faired well on my front entrance. In the backyard, I found out "if you plant and forget it, it'll eventually grow in the future" as a couple plants popped up that I forgot I had.

The mice issue lingered far longer than it should've. Today was the first time I had a TOASTED bagel for breakfast. Yessiirreeee, I took out the toaster that I purchased 9 months ago and finally used it. Things learnt: toasted morning bread is a God-given thing. Cherish it.

Work wise, it's been a cat and mouse (ha) game of "we'll renew your contract". The good news is that I'm renewed til March 2012, giving me a full 2 years of official post-doc status. Bad news, I've yet to find the next job that HAS money. All current opportunities require me to find my own salary. So grant writing commences Jan 3rd and we carry on with job searching. My hope is that I can keep my current job until I have another position with money.

Speaking about my job, we did move into a shiney new building. Things learnt here: new doesn't mean working condition. The first two months were spent talking to maintenance folks with water/flooding issues, autoclave issues, and the automatic blinds issues (whom I've appropriately named HAL - HAL decides when my office needs more light; thanks HAL, now I can't see my computer screen).  I call my building a trophy wife: great to look at, but does crap all.

I'm just coming off a huge high from the recent holidays; no, Santa bring me a new job, but rather I crossed off item #3 from my bucket list: to hug and thank my Grade 7 teacher face to face.

Being a deaf kid had its obvious obstacles with learning how to communicate within this world. But being the sole deaf kid in a regular school system - that just add that much more strife to my upbringing. I was bullied daily and even at an early age was falling into a deep hole of hopelessness that it wouldn't get better.

Enter a teacher named Sandi.

Grade 7 was my last year at elementary school before the deep plunge into scary highschool. I found myself dreading five more years of being picked upon. Sandi somehow sensed my angst and encouraged me to chat with her about things. Soon it became a ritual after school chat with her, which quickly became my daily solace. Within these talks, Sandi encouraged me to attend univsersity, "Highschool will be difficult, but university all that crap about being different falls away. You'll be great in university! Don't worry, it gets better!"

Me? University? A deaf kid finally fitting in? Riiiiiight.

Fast forward to my first undergrad year, I found myself being inspired with the course material and meeting people who had the same interests as me. After that first year, I found myself saying, "She was right, it did get better."

Because of her extra effort, it was high on my bucket list to find and thank Sandi. This also included to write a letter of recommendation about her positive influence on me. Her kindness and encouragement needed to be known, needed to acknowledged, needed to be shared. But she disappeared on me. I had no leads for two decades on where to find her... that is until this past fall.

Google is a wonderful thing at times.

Suddenly I had her email address and we were exchanging emails. The letter of recommendation letter was written shortly after and sent to her superiors. People were soon asking me whether I won the lotto because I had this crazy huge smile on my face for weeks.

"No, but I crossed off a high bucket list item. To me that's a huge huge win."

Things lead up to this past holiday season, where we found ourselves in the same city at the same time and arranged a breakfast meetup. As soon as eye contact was made, warm hugs were instantly exchanged, followed by a 6h chat that ended much too soon. Although my memory of Sandi was from the eyes of a 12 year old; the warm, caring, enthusiastic, positive person who gave me hope so long ago still shines. Her life journey has been incredible and she continues positively influence people in the education system today, both provincially and nationally. She'll always be my dear mentor and now my close friend.

If you have a teacher(s) who inspired you, I encourage, no, challenge you this year to seek them out and let them know about the impact they made on your life. When the right teacher and student connect, everyone wins.

Encore, merci beaucoup Sandi!

My Green Thumb & I

Something shocking happened over this weekend: I found myself in a garden center getting excited over which annuals I'll bring home with me.

Now despite the mice ordeal (which I just realized that I've yet to blog about that... soon people, soon), I've been thoroughly enjoying my townhouse. Yes, it's a rental, but it's been amazing how much my mental state o' mind has improved with windows and greenspace. I enjoyed the wood burning fireplace over the winter months. Last summer I indulged in hammock naps. And year-round, my hockey gear dries out in the basement in peace without smelling up the entire place. It's not that I'll be living here forever (I do want to own a place), but even mice can't stop me from enjoying my townhouse.

Apparently living in this place has tapped into the gardener in me. Growing up we had gardens, and every spring/summer I'd watch my mom attempt to tackle every weed and plant what would call herself "beautiful" plants. As a kid, I could care less. It was beyond my logic why would people spend hundreds of dollars for plants that don't really grow well in Canadian environments. Fruit/vegetables I understand, but trying your darnest to grow some orchid or lilly in forever sun (no shade) or forever shade (no sun) conditions, plus the neverending "chance of overnight frost" never resulted in successful gardens.

But my mom seeing my distaste in gardening would kindly tell me: when you're older, you'll develop an interest in all of this. Standing for 3 hours in the greenhouse debating on several flowers and legumes to grow in my tiny garden space in my townhouse probably means that I'm officially now older.

And poorer - spending $110 on plants. I bought a variety of flowering plants including asters, salvia, and others which I forget the names. I'm also trying a mini vegetable garden of peas, green beans, tiny tom tomatoes, blackberries, and strawberries. I'm not expecting to reap anything. But the chance of it growing in my lil' niche I'm looking forward to.

And sorer - after an afternoon on my knees in the dirt and lugging around potting soil and mulch, I found I had new unused muscles. Apparently goalie knees aren't gardening knees.

So it's all weeded, tilled, and planted. And now the water & wait game commences. I probably did everything wrong in planting and choosing the best combos to plant together. But I think that's part of the fun, an experiment if you will - the trial and error of gardening. If I eat three beans or a half of a strawberry or just witness tomato flowers, I'll consider it a success.  (I'll post pictures soonish... blogger is being silly slow with uploads atm).

I spy with my DSLR eye...

It's a given that I already have a hobby (*coughs* hockey), however I've been wanting to expand into the world of photography for ages. My first love of snapping pictures started well before I hit double digits. My mom had an artistic streak in which I inherited (tho my analytical side apparently won the career direction). Where she played piano/organ, painted, drew, and crafted, I found myself behind her old Kodak flashcube or Canonet 19 cameras. Of course she never let me use actual film back in those days, but I went about my summer days with an unloaded camera in hand snapping pictures that were forever developed in my mind.

Fast forward to my 8th birthday when I received my very first camera to call my own: the Kodak disc 4000. Yessiree, a disc film camera - the future of cameras! Just like 8-track cassettes, BetaMax VCRs, and New Coke! Needless to say I was unimpressed, but made the most of that camera and its flower-like negative discs that were cumbersome and clunky to store. The cost of photography lessons and owning a decent camera (plus film developing) was never in my budget, so I was stuck on relying on crappy birthday cameras (all of which came from my father, go figure). The next camera I received launched me into the digital world with a Canon Powershot S50. It spent more of its time eating batteries than taking pictures. I was able to "upgrade" to a Powershot SX100, which I enjoyed its extra features to play with. But unPhotoshoppable grainy stills and blurred action shots plagued me and I found myself yearning a "real" camera.

After much window shopping and rubbing pennies together to make nickels, I recently took the plunge into DSLR world. The first debate was which name brand to invest in. I was able to narrow things down between Nikon vs. Olympus. Nikon cameras are incredible but scare the hell out of me with their bulkiness and "oh-there's-another-button-for-that" features. Plus, I didn't want to be toting around a small child on walkabouts. Olympus cameras offered "back to basics" models, with their retro style and their Micro Four Thirds lenses which compacted the camera size. Though my photography friends chanted Nikon is god, I listened to my inner child summer days of wandering aimlessly in the fields and down the back alleys and bought an Olympus E-PL1 camera (with the promise that my 5th year anniversary of "real"camera ownership, I'll bow to the Nikon peer pressure).  Of course buying the camera was just the first step. Lens filters, cleaners, cases, shoulder straps soon followed, but I felt giddy taking my first set of pictures just as I did as a kid in those lost summer days.


I'm far far faaaar from being a professional with Ollie (yep, I named him), but I've been having a great time already. I'm committing that each week (mostly weekends), I'll wander somewhere and snap up my surroundings. I'll also be taking a few classes over this summer to learn the finer points of using available light and fun with apertures. I have a few photo projects already in mind that I've started on my flickr account.


Two projects already underway:


Sign Language
No, this isn't what you think it is regarding the world silence, but rather the world of advertising. I appreciate a good ad slogan/campaign. The creativity behind the ad is often amazing or quirky to get the message across. Other signs are just: why did you waste the ink? If it turns my head or makes me smile/smirk/cringe/groan, Ollie shall capture it.


Tombstones Talk
This taps into my morbid side a bit. Although graveyards are probably the last place for most people to wander around, I find them fascinating. So much history and art laid before you. Every tombstone tells a story. For example, in my wanderings in Banff, one tombstone had 4 names inscribed with all deaths occurring in the year 1918 only months apart. Since car crashes weren't *that* common back then, one could surmise the Spanish Flu was the culprit. 


I have some other projects in my head, but unsure whether they will take flight. For one I need to review the laws of photography in public. I know the general rules regarding individuals and private property, but the line becomes fuzzy for other areas. Time shall tell. Maybe my next blog entry will be from my lawyer.


Moooooosic. As one big on Canadian music bands, I don't think I've posted anything yet from Barenaked Ladies (le gasp!). This group was one of the pivotal groups of my highschool days. Today I found myself humming to Brian Wilson on the bench. I need to go to a concert of theirs again real soon. Enjoy peeps.

A Charlie Brown Blind Date

One fateful evening whilst talking to my mom about the upcoming plans to my trip homeward for the holidays, my mother suddenly says, "I think I should warn you about this..."

My mom isn't an overly dramatic person, so when she starts a sentence like this, I'm expecting something bad, "Oh? What's up?"

"You remember Dianne?"

I think for a second and go down the very large list of people my mother knows (which is about 1/4 of my hometown), "Your house keeper?"

"No."

Thinking more, "Oh that lady whom I met this past thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, she REALLY likes you."

"I'm a likable person... what's up?"

"Well she has this 35 yr old UNMARRIED son that you're going to go have coffee with when you're here visiting."

(Silence for 20 some seconds...)

"You did WHAT?!!"

"I have nothing to do with this. It's Dianne, she loves you and feels that you just HAVE to meet her son."

"Because....? I mean asides the fact that we're similar aged and unattached, why would this be a match? What's his name? What does he do?"

"Uhhh, Steve? Stephen? And he may work at Safeway (a grocery mart)? I'm not sure."

".... You haven't even MET him?"

Grrrreat. I felt so betrayed. Granted it's been awhile on the dating scene. I don't mind the chance to meet someone new, especially if a common friend believes that we may hit it off. However admitting that she hasn't even MET the guy, that doesn't sit well in my book. My mom is single and should know, like every other single girl on the planet, that this scenario is a taboo.

Sensing my utter dislike of the situation my mom played the guilt card, "Well I really like Dianne as a friend and it would be impolite for you to say no."

I don't protest knowing that there's nothing that I can do to stop not one, but TWO mothers with an agenda, and hung up the phone to ponder my fate.

Of course this becomes a hot topic among my friends upon hearing the news. I debated letting people know of this blind date, but figured that it would be at the very least a funny story to relay. My thoughts first rounded the prospect that Steve works at a grocery. My fear was that he was a cart boy in which translated to "low ambitions". It's not that I'd only date professionals, but guys whom I'm interested in usually have some sort of ambition. The next is looks of course...why hasn't my mother seen this treasure of the human males? I was not expecting the Hugh Jackman or George Clooney type. But still, if his mom is pimping for him ... what does THAT say? Someone mentioned, "Well he could be absolutely RIPPED!"

"How you figure that?"

"If he is a 35 yr old cart boy, think of all the years he spent pushing long lines of carts through snowy parking lots?"

Ha ha.

So I go home and while eating the first family meal, "Oh the date is set for next Tuesday."

"I see. He'll come pick me up for dinner?"

"Well, not exactly," my mom says nervously.

Uh oh. What now?

"They are coming over with Chinese food."

"Wha? They?"

"Yeah, Dianne is coming over bringing Chinese food and you'll meet Steve then."

Ok, I lost it right there and threw a laughing fit. WTF?!

"Since when is it called a blind date with BOTH mothers are present? Aren't we going to have the pastor over that week too? Why not ask him to come Tuesday? We'll make it an arranged marriage package deal!"

This whole scenario was passing the stratosphere of being surreal.

Tuesday night arrives. Apparently Steve had some smarts and talked himself out of the dinner afterall. He would pick me up for coffee later on in the evening. The dinner with his mom was still on tho. She arrived on time with food in hand. The tension was sooooo thick, you'd could stand a spoon in the air. After some pleasantries, Dianne said to me, "I hope you don't think this is weird."

Me deciding to be just me as always, I put my arm around her and chirped back, "Dianne dear, we're waaay past the point of being weird."

Forced laughter.

Later on, while I'm serving the table, Dianne gushed, "Oh my, you're just like Cinderella."

She's flirting with me? I looked around the table seeing uncomfortable faces everywhere. Oh well, I said in full glee, "Why? Is Steve picking me up in a pumpkin?"

More forced laughter.

Not even 10 minutes into eating - ding dong. Steve made an early appearance. He entered the room as I'm mid mouthful of chow mein. My mom decided to introduce him as if she's known him for years and he looked blankly at me. I swallowed and smiled. Ok... now what? I asked him whether he'd like to join us. He said "no". There's little conversation, as if everyone was waiting for me to start the date. AWKWARD much? So I resigned to quickly finishing my food and getting my coat while Steve watched a bunch of women talk about crafts.

Just before we leave, "Oh where are you guys going?" quipped Dianne.

"Why? Would you like to join us there too?" I answered back.

At this point we were all experts on forced laughter.

We get into the car. Steve has said nothing other than "Hi" to the to dinner group. I turned to him and said, "Well, I must admit. Usually I wait til' date 8 or 12 before having dinner with the mother."

Forced laughter is a familial trait in Dianne's family.

So onto the date itself. In which was (as I predicted) anti-climatic. To my relief, Steve wasn't missing a body part or sported a clubbed foot, however no sparks flew for physical attraction on my side. Steve was just average in my sights. That's not a turn off - I'm not a model myself. He had a kind face, but no weak knees effect (again, as expected).

He took me to the nearest coffee place - a sign to me that he didn't want to go all out to impress for this epic date. We ordered our drinks and the "fun" began. I took the mostly-silent-car-ride as an indicator that I would have to be the initiator of the conversation, so I started in with the general questions. No cart boy, but cashier... for almost 18 years. I tried to put a positive spin on this: Steady job FTW? But in the back of my mind: we don't like challenging ourselves do we? 

His mom told me in that 10 minute supper that he LOVES science. Shows promise, let's move to that. He asked me about my job and was really really really interested that I used to wrangle worms for my Masters. Bacteria were dull, but worms - WOW (and I'm the opposite). His love of science really was from reading Popular Science magazine. I have read a few issues in my day. For me the mag is about hyped science gadgets and far out theoretical ideas. Kinda like reading a magazine from the 1950s that everyone in 2010 will drive flying cars. Possible, but waaaay out there. I tried to chat about the latest buzz of NASA (in)famous recent release of arsenic life. He hadn't heard of it. Back to goats being able to milk spider silk. Riiiight. 

Onto hobbies, which he had none (and didn't want to add to that fact). Oooook, I volunteered my own hobby: hockey, natch. "Oh, I hate hockey." (BUZZZER) It's not that my Person Right requires a DIE HARD passion of hockey. He doesn't have to like it. But "hate"? And no follow up about why? How long? Not an inkling of interest that he wanted to get to know my sport. So I soon asked, "Well do you like any sports?"

"I'm not a sports person."

"So I take it that you're not a Rider fan either." (see my last blog entry)

He shook his head in disgust, as if the mere idea to support the Green n' White was laughable. (BUZZ BUZZ BUZZZZZZZZZER)

I was waiting for him to ask me more about myself, my family, anything that remotely would show that he was interested in getting to know me. He was interested with how long my folks were divorced (great date question!), but I understood the inquiry as "unhealed wounds" with prior knowledge that his own folks recently divorced... 5 years ago. Nearing the end of the date, I found myself listening to him complain about the 101 ways to piss a cashier off. Even my jokes about servicing crazy customers fell flat. At the end of 112 minutes (yes, I was the counting minutes!) I was grasping for straws on topics regarding all-about-Steve. If this date showed me anything, it's reaffirming that deaf people make fantastic listeners.

Finally the shoppe was closing and Steve asked me "When are you in town next?" with the tone like he had to ask. I mentioned that the next visit I would busy due to my granny's surgery, to which he only said, "Ok." No phone number, no email, no facebook friend request. He took me back and I chalked the date as all hype and no finish. One for my books.

Five days later, my mom nods to her computer screen. An email! From Dianne! (of course):

I finally got to talk to Steve about his date with Nancy. He said that she was nice but far too "with it" for him. Please tell Nancy that I'm so sorry for putting her through this ordeal. She's such a nice, funny, smart, good looking girl. Steve is just stuck in his ways and won't see the forrest for its trees.

A nice rejection letter - FROM HIS MOM. 

One for my books indeed.

Edit: One of the BEST comments prior to the fateful night was: So he's your blind date and you are his deaf one? LAWL! Thanks Tiki!

Sky of Blue, Sea of GREEN

Green is the colour
Football is the game
We're all together
And winning is the aim
So cheer us on through the sun & rain
Saskatchewan Roughriders... that's our name!

Above is a chant I learned along with "itsy bitsy spider" and the alphabet song.  Often the word "sun" would be appropriately replaced with "snow".

Whilst hockey is a dear sport of mine, I am a bigger fan of Canadian football. Specifically, a fan of my home province's team: the Saskatchewan Roughriders. Any Canadian would tell you that the biggest, most hardiest team fanbase of any Canadian sport (yes, shockingly this includes hockey teams) is Rider fans.

An example of the pockets of Roughrider green among
the hosting team crowd (Calgary).
Yes, this isn't a home game.

The evidence is in the stands. No matter where Saskatchewan plays their away games, almost half of the stands are the team colours: Green n' White. I thought this was untrue until I first moved to Vancouver. When the Roughriders were visiting the first time I was there, I hesitantly put on my Green n' White jersey and went to the stadium, thinking that I'd be outnumbered. To my surprise, I found myself sitting with a pocket of other Rider fans which riddled the entire stadium evenly between the Orange n' White (BC Lions colours).

I wondered and asked the people sitting around me, "Are you visiting from Saskatchewan?"

General answer: Oh no, we've lived here for the past 5 (10, 20, 30, etc...) years. Once a Rider fan, always a Rider fan.

The huge fan base is very ironic considering that Saskatchewan is a large (600K km²) small (population lingers around 1 million) province. However, due to the continuous emigration from the province (myself included), the RiderNation population is probably 5x that. We breed Rider fans. I don't know where my future husband's home roots are, but our children will bleed green (sorry, dear).

This past weekend, "my boys" (as I tend to call them) were in the Western Final. Another nail biter game, but we emerged victorious! Onto the Grey Cup final (for my American friends, that's the SuperBowl of Canadian football)! Where? Right here in Edmonton! Although I don't have tickets to the game (they go for $500/pop now, it's sold out, plus it's -35oC outside), I'll gather all my RiderNation fans around the TV to scream "GO GREEN".  Win or lose - I'm still proud of my team. It's Grey Cup week in the city. Awesome place to be!

Wow, you're so smart...

I met someone new the other day.

No, this isn't going to be an account that I met a significant other and for the next few paragraphs will be of gushing, sunshine on a cloudy day, and bluebirds singing. Besides, this new person isn't of the opposite sex. So alas, my hunt for Mr. (doesn't have to be) Right continues.

I became newly acquainted with a nice 20-something young woman who was intrigued that I was a molecular microbiologist. She had some insightful and intelligent questions about my profession. And on the turnabout, I was delighted to hear about her own experiences with being a test subject for the latest vaccine for HIV. Wow, she's braver than me!

During the conversation, once again I heard the words: "Wow! A scientist! It must be nice to be so smart!"

I've learned to kindly accept this compliment that comes with having a Ph.D. or being in the science profession. I have protested the exact opposite, in which people think I'm joking.

"No... SERIOUSLY, I'm not as smart as you think I am."

"Ha ha... you're smart and funny too!"

Le sigh.

Yes, I was an A-average student. But low A average. Most of my science classmates scored 97% on their exams, while I was happy with a nice 84%. I had this idea that if I hung out with incredibly smart people, their smartness would rub off onto me, or maybe an osmosis effect. My chances of nabbing scholarship awards/grants were next to nil. I was competing with 99.9% averages. There's no way that I'd win over those folks. I just accepted that I wasn't brilliant, but it didn't deter me from pursuing a career in science. Just made things that much harder.

My first job in science is the shining example of this fact. Actually it wasn't a job... more like a volunteer position. The last year of my undergrad, to get an Honours nod you had to do a research project. From my tiny university, there were only two choices: protein biochemistry or nucleotide biochemistry. My friend Dana (one of my brilliant friends) had her eyes set on cancer research, so the protein biochemistry lab was the logical choice. That left me with the nucleotide research lab headed by a professor whom had previously told me to my face that I was "an idiot". I wasn't overly eager to join his lab, but there was no other choice. And I kinda like DNA. So I attempted to muster courage to ask him if he'd be willing to be my Honours research advisor. It took me 3 days standing outside his closed door, panicking about the prospect of knocking on his door. It wasn't until Dana stood beside me and forced me to knock on his door...

Eying me ruefully, "What do you want?"

"Uh, hi. I've been seriously considering doing an honours project next fall in your lab. I'm wondering if you'd accept me."

"I only accept people on scholarship. Are you on one?"

"Well not a science one..." (I was on a scholarship for Deaf and Hard of Hearing folks, apparently I was a smart Deaf person)

"I thought as much, you don't have enough brights for my lab," while he started to close the door.

"Wait! That may be true. But how about I volunteer to work in your lab over this summer? If you're still convinced that I don't have what it takes, fair enough. But I'm hoping you'd give me a chance to prove myself."

"Wha? You're telling me that you'll work in my lab for free all summer?"

"I'm only asking for a chance to work in a lab to see whether it's really for me. I'll do anything, even wash test tubes."

Which was exactly what I did for the first month. I wasn't "allowed" to do any type of experiment or touch any scientific devices like a simple PCR machine or micropipettor. Just brunt work: washing test tubes, making agar plates, autoclaving waste, washing more test tubes. But I made the most of the experience, observing anyone doing an experiment or procedure. Apparently my curiousity permitted me one day to actually isolate DNA. I was so proud! I think I still have that agarose gel picture of it too. 4 months of working 40h/week without pay (I did night shifts and weekend work at my regular job) apparently impressed the prof and I was accepted to be his Honours project student. The project itself wasn't all exciting, just testing the efficiency of something, but I learned a lot from my first science job and the prof later told me that he learned that not all scientists are good on paper alone (aka transcripts).

Years later, while I prodded onto a Masters project, doctoral project, and now even a post-doc position, my IQ hasn't improved much. Experience, definitely. But I'm still not smart enough on paper.  Even the science that I do today, some of the concepts, I can't get my head around them. But being industrious, at least I have that. So while appearances may be that I'm brilliant - like developing a vaccine brilliant - honestly I'm just like the normal person in an everyday job. The trick remains to convince a dinner party of that...

Music today - I'm purifying proteins this week which means loong looong loooong painful days of spinning and watching things drip. Thank goodness for my mp3 player. The Shout Out Out Out Out's "Dude you feel electrical" is one of my new faves to techno groove.

Mi familia

This weekend started off with a huge surprise from my extended family. Where I currently live, I have about 20 cousins. The sad part is that I rarely see them and I hate inviting myself over for tea. But a week ago I decided - hell, I'm going to ring a doorbell no matter what. I kindly let my cousin Tara know that I was coming over for a "tea-cap" and when I arrived I was greeted by her entire clan from 3 different cities/2 different provinces. It just worked out that everyone was visiting this weekend. While hanging out with your cousins may scare the bejeezus out of some folks, this side of my family rocks. There's a lot of history between us while I was growing up. Some of my best memories come from the homestead farm & family motel during the seasonal and summer holidays. I felt so blessed to be able to spend some time with them while we laughed our arses off around the kitchen table.

In this blog, I've chatted a few times about my "adoptive" Greek family. They are a great bunch of folks, have supported me throughout my life, and I'm always proud to be apart of their lives. This is not to suggest that my biological family isn't equally cool - they are awesomely cool. This weekend was just another example of their coolness. What is weird is that these cousins who I feel so close to aren't really so close to me on the family tree measuring stick. I don't have any immediate uncles/aunts. I barely have great uncle/aunts. These set of cousins come from my maternal grandparents side. Yes... for family I must go *that* far back.

My immediate family is very small - like 3 people small, one for each generation: me, my mom, and my granny. It wasn't planned this way. My grandmother did plan to have a large family, but fate would intervene and she contracted polio during the epidemic outbreak in the early 1950s (yeah, this was a factor of why I'm a microbiologist today). My mom was only 3 at the time and the resulting paralysis usurped any logical reason to have more children.


Fast forward things to my mom and her dreams of a nice nuclear family. But once again life circumstances would intervene - one night, her and I ended up on our own when I was 4 months and have been so ever since. I get a lot jokes about my tiny family plus the fact that I'm an only child, but I believe that my mom did her best and if anyone argues, I own several goalie sticks and know how to use them.

This brings things to me, I'm in my 30s and hear the biological clock ticking. I love kids and sincerely would like to have a couple. I have found a lot of people are shocked to hear/see that I'm a "baby-person". This has kinda irked me as it shows that many don't know who I really am. Maybe it's to do with being so "career-orientated" and my academic studies. While that has been a huge focus of my 20s, it doesn't mean that it's my only life focus. I think having kids are important - not just to continue the family line (well within my family, it is all on me), but having kids puts everything in a different perspective. I love the magicalness (yes, new word in the dictionary) of a child's world. Everything is a discovery, everything is an adventure. Those are two things you relearn with having kids. My mom has expressed a profound want of having grandkids. So far I've just pacified her with  a grandcat. I've joked that it would be *too* easy to give her one. She kindly replies, "Thanks, but I'll wait for a son-in-law first." So yes, kids are on my list, can't wait to meet them.


Off to errand land. Cowboy Junkies have been re-appearing on my playlist this week. "Sweet Jane" is one of my favourite mellow tracks. The repeating chords gets you mesmerized. Ciao!

the Old Black Rum's got a hold on me

It's been an eight year repos, but this past Saturday I finally got to dance in my seat (and out of it) once again thanks to five delightful fellas from a lil' rock we Canucks like to call Newfoundland. Great Big Sea stopped by for an evening of songs and comical anecdotes to a sold out crowd. I managed to snap up the 2nd last ticket (great seat too, front centre, 12 rows back) thanks to Dawn with her mentioning "oh yeah, we're going to Great Big Sea this Saturday" when I enquired about her weekend plans. I think my face went all crumpled-fetal-position like upon hearing the news as she later asked her boyfriend to give up his ticket for me (awwww, I'm touched). Never to fear! I have ticketmaster magic!

So after a delightful dinner with a group of friends, off to the concert hall on campus. We split up making our way to the theater (different autos) and whilst walking to the venue I was soon approached by an elderly lady (my guess in her early 70s) with a cane who looked lost. I put on my helpful smile as she beelined for me, apparently a lady on a mission.

"Excuse me, but where's the Jubee?" in her small adorable voice.

"Oh, are you going to see Great Big Sea?" I asked.

Her face lit up, "Oh yes, I've been waiting for this all year!"

Doris apparently has never seen GBS preformed live, but "listened to them many times on TV." We chatted more about ourselves. We discovered that both of us were prairie folks, me being from Saskatchewan and she from some small community in Manitoba. But less chit-chatter, more walking to the venue, she was shuffling so fast that I had to sprint a bit to keep up to her. I later spotted her in the front row, dancing with her lil' cane in hand - man, there's a fan!

Speaking about fans, there were all types - including dogs. I found myself sitting next two blind ladies who brought their guide dogs. I mentioned to one with the black lab (Jeb) that I bet her dog was a bigger GBS fan than her. She giggled back. We were quite the group - two Blinds, two dogs, and the Deaf chick. I must apologize to Jeb though, I think I stepped on his tail a few times while dancing. Yes, we danced - very few times the crowd was sitting for the entire three hour show. The band did two full sets, then two encores.

The opening song got everyone to their feet right away: Donkey Riding. Oh Tawnya, I wish you were there! Everytime I hear this song, I think of you cracking up. The rest of the show was filled with great foot stomping music and laughs as Alan Doyle would chat about the Liquid Angels. I also found out this evening that Alan was able to get a spot on Russel Crow's latest version of Robin Hood. More reason to go rent that one.

Before the show I said to Dawn that I hope that they would play two of my fave songs: Excursion Around the Bay and Old Black Rum. The first was one best memory of GBS concert I attended on Parliament Hill one Canada Day eight years ago. The Black Rum has a special place for me for the past 5 years. In my pixelated gaming life, I named my crew "Black Rum" in honour of GBS. My crewmates have all heard my version on this song on Ventrilo. A lot of my pixelated pirate life has been singing sea shanties with many folks around the world, GBS songs included. I was ecstatic when Excursion was played in the first encore. And the final song of the night... 

 

It's safe to say that I'm bias for GBS, but truly, if you ever want to hear Canadian music at its best, definitely do yourself a favour to go see them when they are in town. All they are missing is lumberjacks, maple syrup,  and beavers to complete your Cdn experience.