doctors and needles

Poor Naomi is having quite the week. In addition to her trip to the emergency room (nose is fine now), the rounds of immunizations for the trip to Nepal have begun. So far she has had three within 8 days. There will be the last hepatitis A/B shot in 14 days, plus 3 rabies shots, 1 for Japanese encephalitis, and I don't think that's the full list. And although she was an angel for the first 2 needles, so brave she didn't even cry, after the nasal nightmare at the hospital, she has developed a bit of a generalized fear of all medical professionals- I imagine this is perfectly rational from a 4-year-old's perspective. At the hospital, they let me give her the sedative medication up her nose ("trust me, I'm an epidemiologist.."). Today she got all worked up, and was crying so hard she didn't even notice when the doctor shot her in the ass. Once again I had to promise Scooby-Doo (I hate that damned dog) and more chocolate ice cream.

the holidays aren't complete without a trip to the ER

This is the toy responsible for all the trouble. I don't know what possessed her, but Naomi felt compelled to shove a small piece of green fun foam up her left nostril yesterday. When I asked her why, all she could come up with was, "I didn't want it on the couch." Somehow, in her barely four-year-old brain that made sense. She came running up the stairs crying hysterically, blood pouring down her face, I was terrified, I had no idea what she'd been up to. To make matters worse, Michael was at work, meaning we were at home with no car, and on top of that we were in the middle of a freezing rain storm. I did the only thing I could do, I called my blessed friend Sandra to bail us out (yet again), and off we went to the Emergency Room. Once the initial panic wore off, she was even calm enough to nap on the drive to the city, and played happily enough with another stricken child in the waiting area. But it would not end that simply, oh no. She rammed that thing up there good and tight. The poor thing was (justifiably)terrified, asking me how they would get it out. Well, for a time it seemed even the medical professionals weren't quite sure what to do, as the first attempts using suction and then pincers were not only unsuccessful, but made matters much worse for poor Naomi's state of mind. Oh, god, it was awful. I hate to lie to my child, but she kept asking if it would hurt. I hate to see her cry, she hardly ever does, and I'm not sure she has cried that much ever in one day. It was all I could do not to cry myself, as it took two of us to pin her arms and secure her head as she was screaming in fear, saying, "it hurts, it hurts!" The first doctor couldn't get it out, so they sent in the ENT specialist (some guy young enough to be my boy-toy love-slave. His class ring was dated '06, I hate it that doctors and lawyers and other professionals I might need can now be younger than me, when did that happen?!). He couldn't get it either on the first attempt. Now Naomi is truly freaking out. I had to bribe her with everything I could think of: unlimited viewing of her favourite Scooby-Doo video, popcorn, and chocolate ice cream. In the end they had to use 3 drugs: 1 to sedate her (that one left her stoned and stumbling like a drunk afterwards), one to numb her nose, and one to shrink the nasal tissues. It still took a few attempts, but finally, a squishy, bloody, green fun foam rectangle emerged.

I have now officially earned my mommy wings. And I did let her watch her video and make her popcorn today, with a promise of ice cream for tomorrow, true to my word.

Birthday planning

Today is the last day that I will be the mother of a 3-year-old. Tomorrow is Naomi's fourth birthday, being celebrated by a big party. I am up to my eyeballs in tasks required to get this crazy house of ours ready for 12 small children and their parents. The house truly is in chaos, but perhaps somehow it will all come together in the end. Right now the kitchen table remains disguised by piles of mail, bills, and general junk, there is a ladder waiting for me to finish painting one wall in the living room, which for some reason we decided was absolutely necessary before we could have visitors in our living room (we have been meaning to paint and rearrange the furniture for about 2 years. We are world-class procrastinators in this house).

I have to admit it is very exciting. I am really a grinch when it comes to xmas, but this year I am almost getting into the spirit, and even enjoying it a bit. I went on a mad shopping spree for party supplies, birthday gifts (and it's daddy's birthday in 5 days too), xmas gifts, decorations, all I need to do now is put one more coat of paint on the wall, get a tree, decorate it, clean the kitchen table and put out food etc for the party, finish making the treat bags with Naomi, move the furniture, vacuum, tidy, go to the grocery store, and make sure Naomi and I have baths...sure, we can do all this by 11:00 am tomorrow...

Free parenting advice

Don't decide to spontaneously cut your child's hair with children's safety scissors. I was brushing Naomi's gloriously long, yogurt-encrusted hair today when I thought I'd just quickly trim a wee bit off the ends, and reached for the pair of blue-and-purple safety scissors with the rounded ends that happened to be sitting next to me on the end table. Big mistake. Although they are definitely sharp enough to cut hair, they don't cut evenly. After the first 'incision' this became obvious, and yet I stubbornly continued on, too lazy to get up and retrieve a pair of proper scissors from the kitchen. Naomi remained mercifully unaware (I don't think she noticed the fact that I was cutting her hair at all, that might have actually freaked her out, as I've only ever trimmed it twice in her nearly 4 years), and in the end, I don't think anyone will notice.

Acts of kindness- Do It For The Kids!!

In the spirit of Bloggers Unite Acts of Kindness Day, do something nice today. I made my husband coffee. But I do more than that. If I could be anything I wanted when I grow up, I would like to be a philanthropist. I'm broke, but I give stuff away all the time. Research does show that poorer people give proportionately more of their income to charity than rich people. I have fantasized about winning the lottery and traveling the world over-tipping harassed waitresses, and topping up people's parking meters for them. Did you know it is actually ILLEGAL to put money in someone else's parking meter?! One more reason the world makes no sense to me. I always try to put something in the Food Bank donation box at the grocery store. I give granola bars to homeless people on the street (there's often a granola bar in my purse even when there isn't any money). I hate Christmas, I often don't even celebrate it (now I am made to because of Naomi), but I do always give new toys to the Salvation Army toy drives. And I'm slaving away in academia so that someday I can change the world, a tiny bit. I am basically a good person, underneath the sarcasm and cynicism.

If you don't feel that you have committed enough acts of kindness lately, you can always donate to your favourite charity, give the next homeless person you see a bill instead of spare change, forget about work and go play with your kid(s), give your wife a foot massage for no good reason - there are a million things to do out there.

And if you want to improve your karma,
click the donate button :-)
Do it for the kids!

Happy Day All.

Boycotts and blizzards

I hereby call for a boycott of Esso Imperial Oil. Despite my "automatic delivery" home-heating plan, for the 3rd time, we ran out of oil last night. No big deal, right? After all, it was only -15 degrees celcius outside (I'm not sure what that is in fahrenheit, but it's f*@king cold!). After visiting the scary but no-longer flooded basement (after all, if it was still flooded, it would be a personal ice-rink) to ensure it was lack of oil and not the furnace, I proceeded to the next logical step: call the oil company's emergency no-heat line. The first time I called, at 10 pm, I was on hold for several minutes before BEING DISCONNECTED! The second time I called, I did get through to someone after a few minutes who gave the (erroneous) impression that she was on top of the situation, and was dispatching a technician right away. With no indication of any technician on the horizon, and increasing fears that the taps would freeze yet again (oh yeah, not to mention the fac that by this point I was FREEZING!), at 11:15 I called back, to hear that dreaded message, "We are currently experiencing a higher than usual call-volume. You're estimated wait-time is 30 minutes." Great. After waiting more than 30 minutes, and watching the thermometer drop from 7 down to 6 degrees, eventually I got through, only to get the same telephone operator. She assures me she has called the technician, and that she will call again, and that she will even give me the number to call myself. But as she's talking it becomes apparent that she hasn't actually talked to anyone, only left a message on someone's voicemail. I knew that was a bad, bad sign. The number she gave me yielded a recorded message saying that hours of operation are 8-5, and spouts out 2 cell numbers and an 888 toll-free number. I left messages on both cells, and called the 888 number only to be told by yet another recording that this number was not available in my area. What?! Just after midnight I realized no one was coming. I crawled into bed with Naomi, she always has hot feet.

And this morning, when I called promptly at 8am, I learned from a new operator that the woman I talked to the night before CALLED THE WRONG NUMBER! She never talked to the technician because she didn't call the 24-hour number! By the time they did find a man with an oil truck, it took another 2 hours for him to get here, by which time the ambient air around my sofa had dropped to -2 degrees (that's about 31 fahrenheit, or f*@king cold).

I am changing oil companies Monday morning.

And the blizzard they predicted started an hour ago. Bet the power goes out just as the house starts to get warm.

From the past into the future

Don't be misled here, I have traveled before, but make no mistake: I was never traveling on a trust fund. I traveled to Israel on a full academic scholarship the first time, and to Northern Ireland on student loans I have yet to pay off more than a decade later. I worked my way around the world. When I couldn't find a job at home, I worked overseas instead (and as a consequence my Canadian pension funds are virtually nil, as I wasn't even living here to be contributing through much of my 20s). I was a cocktail waitress at 15 in Estoril, Portugal, a coffee shop waitress, and bartender at a United Nations Base (that was a great job) in Israel. I taught sociology at university in Belfast, I worked on 3 different kibbutzim, and then there was that year I spent in the Israeli army...I paid my own way. It seemed possible to move anywhere in the world with just $500 in your pocket.

But I was young and single then. Now I am a mom, and the proud owner of a mortgage, and worse yet, my husband has a day job. This does make it much harder to get away, I have been waiting not-so-patiently for years now. Excepting a fairly awful Florida vacation of less than a week last January, and 1 trip so Naomi could meet her grandmother in Ireland when she was 4 months old, I have barely moved beyond a 100-mile radius since 2002. They aren't kiddding when they tell you everything changes after you have a baby, even though Michael and I never planned for it to be the end of our traveling. Still, he seems more settled than I am, and more attached.

But he also longs for Nepal. We have been having some hard years, and are sharing a mini-mid-life-crisis. Maybe not so mini. I was so sick after Naomi was born with constant migraines and more, it took years and daily fist-fulls of heavy-duty medications to get me back to functional. I still rely on about half a dozen types of pills every day, for three separate medical problems- and I'm only 36! What the hell?! I was still doing yoga in my 8th month of pregnancy, even as I approached 180 lbs, and I could still do tree pose without falling over. Now I'm winded by 2 flights of stairs, due to one of the drugs I take. Saddest of all, Naomi remains an only child because of the meds. We would love nothing more than to have more children, and we talk about adoption, but my veins and womb are polluted with pharmaceuticals, as I get closer and closer to 40.

And Michael has his own problems. He is plagued by headaches, insomnia and stress. He is so overworked, putting in overtime nearly every day, on top of a 2-hour commute, which is now a 2-hour+ thrill ride on snowy and icy roads. I don't know how they get away with advertising those cars with winter tires speeding madly without fishtailing in whiteout blizzards- our new snow tires don't seem to slip any less than the old all-seasons. And between his schedule and mine, we have problems. For years Michael and I ran a home-based business, we spent virtually all our time together for the first 7 years of our relationship. Once he went to work, somehow we started to argue more. Call it an adjustment period. We've been together nearly 12 years and still call each other on the phone 2-3 times a day if he's at work, and say I love you every time (nauseatingly cute, I know). But it has become a lot harder to be a couple since we became a family sometimes. We never used to fight at all, unless it was over something stupid, like definitions of words, or historical events...we're both terrible bookworms. Our house is littered in books and magazines on dozens of subjects, as is the car.

In "Chasing the Monsoon" Alexander Frater mentions The Monsoon Cure, or the Kerala Cure people go to India for during the monsoon season. I think that is part of what we are looking for. We need some healing, physically and mentally, separately, and as a couple. The only thing we don't need to work on is being Naomi's parents. She is absolutely adored. She is what gets us through the hard days (and the easy ones). Her smile is infectious, and she's always full of giggles and smiles.

Nepal represents hope for us. A much needed break, not a vacation, just a change of scenery, a new window on the world. We've been together too long to call it a second honeymoon, some days it seems we're closer to needing marriage counselling. Not because we don't love each other, we do, very much. Just because life keeps getting more and more complicated, and harder to hold together.

If you're in your 30s, or older, are you happy with where you landed? Is this what you dreamed of? Is this what you planned to do with your life? I planned to be somewhere like Nepal, lending a hand, not here in the snow, struggling to pay the bills. Somewhere where life is meaured in more simple terms, not by the latest cellphone style, ipod, or new car. I'm quite sure I'll never own a new car. I hate to think of Naomi growing up wanting these things, and perhaps not caring about more substantive issues. Poverty like what exists in Nepal may be ugly, but it isn't that complicated (until you start analysing the world-wide imbalance of trade, transnational corporations, Western economic domination...let's not go there right now).

How do you measure wealth? We have a house and a car and a computer and a colour tv (and cable, thank god for cable, I admit I do love my digital cable), all things I did not have as a child. But I do not have an extended family, a relationship with my neighbours, or a vast social network. What would you rather have? What would you rather your children have? I always hoped I could grow up and live on a tropical island somewhere where life was simpler. You know, playing catch with coconuts on the beach instead of comparing the latest fashions in the schoolyard...maybe it doesn't exist, but this 24-hour, drive-thru, pop-culture civilization lite we find ourselves in just doesn't make me feel at home. This time of year especially the brutal, in-you-face materialism of the holidays pushes me over the edge. I will not buy Disney products or Bratz dolls. When Naomi gets Barbie merchandise as gifts, I give them away to charity. I hate branding. I have never set foot inside the Gap except to apply for a job - which I didn't get. I shop at yard sales and second-hand stores, if I shop at all. I make things like scarves and sock monkeys as gifts.

wondering the world

I've been paging through "Don't let the World Pass you By: 52 Reasons to own a passport," and it gives me reasons to reflect. Geared to the average non-passport owning American who may not have ever left their home state, this book reads like a "Get off Your Ass! and see the world" tirade in a rather puerile tone, interspersed with comments by travelers and suggestions and lists of things to do and places to see. I had hoped for more from Lonely Planet Publications, but then it has at least spurred my thinking onto the topic of the wonders of my world, those I have seen, and those I'd like to see. Hmmm...the Pyramids of Giza were the greatest disappointment of my traveling life. If you ever go, take my advice and rent the horse or the camel. The grounds are not only overflowing with other tourists by the busload, but there are hawkers everywhere, devoted to hassling you into giving them money, to ride on a camel, or just have your photo taken with one, to buy postcards or other souvenirs and cheap trinkets- it was the worst experience ever- far from inspiring. The pyramids of Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras however, were spectacular, and much more peaceful. I keep swearing that I'll stop climbing things: I've been up the stairs of the Statue of Liberty, up and down all those pyramids, trekking in northern Thailand (oh my god, was I ever in bad shape for that!), and up Mount Sinai on New Year's Eve, 1995. There are 2 routes up the mountain, both culminating in the 700 Steps of Repentence that lead to the top (where you can buy Coca Cola and snacks, by the way). We accidentally went up the hard way. But it was a clear and beautiful night as we walked down the easier path. I've seen the Aswan Dam, Erie Canal, and Niagara Falls (yes, we even spent a night of our honeymoon there in a jungle-themed room complete with mirrored jacuzzi. It was awesome). But as amazing to me as Niagara was a cascade in Guatemala I don't know the name of. The falls weren't that high or that wide - but the waterfall was hot water, from a nearby hotspring. Parts of it were too hot to stand under, but we lingered there for ages, enjoying the best quality shower we'd had in months (if anyone out there is a die-hard Survivor fan, in the Survivor Guatemala series, one of the reward challenges consisted of a spa treatment at this place, next to these falls).

One of the favourite places I've been is Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee. I'm not a huge Elvis fan, but if you're in Tennessee, you just have to go to Graceland (like the song says, "we all will be received in Graceland"). I had a total blast, even if I didn't pay extra to see the automobile collection or the Lisa Marie airplane. I'm also glad I got to see Stonehenge, (don't even ask about the time Michael and I tried to get to Giant's Ring in Northern Ireland, it's a bit of a sore spot), and this place not far from Dublin where St. Kevin hung out in a cave. Fatima, Portugal was surreal, as I'm sure Lourdes would be. Pilgrims walking or crawling for miles to see the site, where in addition to the chapel there is also a wax museum depicting the 3 children who saw a vision of the Virgin.

I collect places as I do postcards. Yes, I have been priveleged. I have also seen unspeakably horrible places like Auschwitz, Birkenau, Majdanek, Treblinka. I learned much from these places too, but I would not want to go back. And the most intense place for me, unlike any other, was Israel. It kept pulling me back. It has a way of making complete sense, and none at all. The first time I visited Jerusalem, I saw pious Jews praying so close to the Wailing Wall, they nearly scratched their skin against the stone. Before long, the call of the muezzin came clear from the speakers of the Dome of the Rock just above, and beyond that, church bells from the many churches in the Grove of Olives. I backed away to try and absorb all of this, thinking of all who have focused their lives on what is represented in these few city blocks of space, the religious centre of the world to Jews, Christians and Muslims (and don't forget the Ba'Hai's just up the road with their spiritual centre in Haifa). And it seems insane. How can this be? And if there is a god, and if god has a home on earth, this must be it.

Jerusalem is not my favourite place in Israel. Well, my favourite spot once was a kibbutz called Be'it Ha'Emek, but that is a very long story. I loved many places. The road to Tiberius is beautiful, and I love the sign you pass telling you that you are at sea level, as the road continues downward. I loved Eilat, I always had good times with good friends when I went there. I never spent much time in Tel Aviv except changing trains and buses, which I did a lot. Oh, except for the first time I went there, when there was a foiled terrorist attack on the Tel Aviv beachfront. I was on the beach that very day, wondering what all the helicoptors were doing up there in the bright blue sky. I liked shopping in Haifa. But my place was in Nahariya, a small town near Lebanon. In the winter, the scent of eucalyptus on the night air was intoxicating.

winter wonderland

It's a picture-perfect winter world outside today, everything covered in a layer of fresh snow that fell during the night, silently. Naomi looked out the window and was, of course, ecstatic. "Mommy, Mommy! Look it's snowing! Mommy, get up!" I am not, however, a winter person. I lived overseas for several years in several places, all of which had no, or very limited amounts of, snow. I often wonder why it is I came back to Canada 11 years ago, and I often regret it, especially this time of year. I still don't want to stay here for life, it's too damn cold. I am a cold-blooded person, my hands and feet are freezing most of the year, like a lizard's. I am happiest barefoot (and Michael is all for having me barefoot and pregnant again, he jokes. I was so happy when I was pregnant, huge and happy. I thought it was hilarious to be 60 lbs heavier. Not so funny now, when I still haven't lost it all 4 years later...). But I need socks from late August until June. My feet are very accurate gauges for the outdoor temperature. I hate sleeping in socks, I wish I could wear sandals all year long. I am just a little bit SAD. I used to be much worse.

But Naomi helps bring some joy to the season I would not otherwise feel. She's right, it is pretty outside. But luckily her dad took her out to play, while I can remain my indoor self. It rather worries some people that left to my own devices I can stay indoors for days on end without even really noticing. She will go out and make snowangels gleefully, eat handfuls of snow, and eventually come in with cherry-red cheeks. I'll be here, huddled by my space-heater at the computer.

Anyone out there who has travel tales from Nepal, please share! We are still looking for contacts in the Pokhara region, with the university or any hospital. I am planning to do community health research while we are there, and I hope to find support over there to this end. If we can't link up with anyone suitable in Pokhara, perhaps we will stay closer to Kathmandu after all - Pokhara just sounds so beautiful, although we will visit both while we are there. Naomi and I read our National Geographic magazines together now, and have been looking at pictures of elephants in Chitwan National Park. I told her mommy and daddy rode elephants in Thailand, now she wants a try.

chanukah doughnuts

We finally made our sufganiyot, or chanukah doughnuts, Naomi and me. Not a Nepali speciality, I'm sure, but mmm are they ever good. These aren't traditional chanukah doughnuts, but are from an African recipe:

1/2 cup butter at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten lightly
1/2 teaspoon each cinnamon and nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 teaspoons baking powder
3 cups flour

Mix the butter and sugar, then add the other ingredients. When well mixed, use your hands to knead dough into a ball. Break off small bits and roll into balls, about 1 1/2 -2" in diameter. Deep-fry at 350 degrees fahrenheit until golden, and roll or dip in cinnamon sugar.

Girls' night

Last night was the second night of Chanukah. Michael was working, so it was just us girls. Grandma found Naomi a lovely Chanukah book where you press a button and the candles light up - we took this to preschool today to share for storytime, and it was a big hit. But even better was the adorable little snow-globe I found months ago that I had been saving. Inside there's a stick-figure sort of smiling little girl figure with a handful of heart-flowers in her hand, and on the base it says Daughter, and around the back, "Daughters are made with love." She adores it, spent the rest of the evening shaking up the snow, saying, "Look at me inside!" A true treasure.

Special thanks today to Mary Lou Bourgeois, my massage therapist, for her donation. See her ad, use her services! If anyone else would like to make a donation in exchange for ad space, please e-mail me at: idftress@gmail.com.

And tonight is another type of girls' night out - I am very psyched. The Dalhousie University Student and Staff Art Show opens tonight at the Gallery, so I decided to make an occasion out of it. I wrote my last exam, I never get out after dark, never get an excuse to dress up, so I have a black sparkly dress (second-hand store find) to wear, and I might even sip my first cocktail since before I got pregnant with Naomi. My girlfriend and I are going out for dinner first, at a restaurant that does not serve the all-day breakfast special. This is really glam for me.

Happy Chanukah!

School is almost almost over (last exam yesterday, 2 papers and one stats assignment to go, just one more week!), and so now I can focus more energies into planning our trip. The past 2 weeks has been pretty stressful. Everyone in our house keeps saying, "I wish we could go to Nepal today." I've been making a list in my head of things I want to do there. I absolutely cannot wait to see honest-to-god snake charmers. I've always wanted to, and now I will have the chance. I also intend to visit a host of health practitioners who can advise me on my migraines, but more importantly, I can't wait to go to a yoga centre there, see hippie-dippy backpacker land in Thamel and Pokhara, climb to the Peace Pagoda, visit a wildlife reserve, see the bright-red spring rhododendron flowers in bloom (the national flower). And of course to meet the people, see Naomi in a Nepali school uniform, see her make new friends. And there's the monsoon to come...

I realise I'm sounding a little hippie-dippy here myself, and that's okay, but there's a lot more to me than that. But I have to be more of a mom for a while, I feel I have neglected poor Naomi these past few weeks, studying like mad. I'm back at home again everyday, I have time to cook proper meals again, and maybe, just maybe I'll finish all the laundry by New Year's (last year I was just 2 loads away before I ran out of soap on December 31 - how sad am I to spend New Year's Eve trying to get caught up with the laundry), and if we're really lucky, I'll find the surface of my desk and the full uncovered area of the kitchen table...I'm a great cook, a good mom, but a terrible housekeeper.

For now, it's just an hour before sunset when we will light our chanukah candles, and Naomi's eyes shine just as bright. Yesterday she got a hand-made mermaid doll, and she's been playing with her all day.

It's a happy day! :-)

The Rain Goddess Awaits the Monsoon

Perhaps I didn't mention that I am a rain goddess. My immediate family and friends are aware of this, it has always been so, so it seems. It always rains on my birthday, on days that I embark or return from significant journeys. On days that are of emotional significance. It's quite predictable. I do love the rain, the only problem is that now sometimes I suffer migraines with it - not always.

We don't have a lot of choice about the time of year we will be traveling to Nepal - I finish classes in early April, and start again in September. The monsoon season is a result of the largest climatic cycle on earth, beginning in mid-June, and running until August, so about half our trip will be flooded with rains like no other on the planet. Initially this had me worried, monsoons bring mosquitoes, leeches, mud and washed out roads, and cloudy skies to ruin the views of our surroundings. But then I was guided to a wonderful book, "Chasing the Monsoon," by Alexander Frater. I am just at the beginning of his odyssey, as in 1987 he set forth to follow the course of the Monsoon from the tip of southern India where the first raindrops fall, to the wettest spot on earth. His personal story is unique: finding himself ill and rundown, one day he is suddenly inspired to throw caution to the wind and pursue this mad goal of following the monsoon, one I very much identify with. In many ways, this is what we are doing, trying to leave our troubles behind, and go on a quest for some new dream, a pursuit that may seem crazy to some, although I have to say, many people have been supporting of our planned adventure, especially of the fact that we are taking our young daughter along. I keep A book about Nepal in the bathroom now, and when she's doing her number twos, she likes me to show her the pictures in it.

Rain is different in different places. Michael is from Northern Ireland, where we think it rains a lot - and it does, but it doesn't rain a lot for prolonged periods of time, and it doesn't often truly pour. It might rain many days in a row, but only briefly, followed by rainbows and leprechauns. He was surprised to experience Nova Scotian rains, true cats-and-dogs pouring rains, rainy streaks that last a week. I always regretted missing rainy season in Africa - it only rained once when I was there - and it poured, it was tremendous. One of the best outpourings from the sky I recall was in Phuket, Thailand. We were so drenched in the market place I had to buy new things when it ended, my shoe broke in the mud.

I love all the thrills the earth can give us - with the possible exception of snow - I'm not a winter person, but even I will admit awe at the storm termed "White Juan" here in 2004, where the blizzard dumped over 3 feet of snow. I've been in hurricanes, and most thrilling of all, one of the most exciting moments of my life thus far, an earthquake in Guatemala. Small by the local standards (5.0), a mere tremor, but enough to wake me with the sound of roaring thunder, shaking the bed and the room - oh it was awesome. For days afterwards I dreamt I was in another one, I would wake up unsure if there had been an aftershock. Michael slept through the whole thing!

More plans

I've just had a very reassuring conversation with the Canadian Coordinator for Info-Nepal, answering many of my questions, and fueling my excitement about this trip. The crunch of end-of-term academic stress is causing me day after day of migraines, and our departure date in April seems so far away (while the biostatistics quiz I might fail this Thursday is looming large). At least I had a moment to focus on another neglected part of my life last night as I chose three pieces to submit to the university Staff and Student Art Show - not like a show at the Met or anything, but my photography is something I do so little of these days, it was a nice distraction. I even got around to making a home-cooked meal yesterday - a new vegetarian chili recipe that I deemed good enough to put in the cookbook I'm writing - the first time I've worked on that since the summer (although it doesn't take that long to type up one recipe, that was still time I should have spent writing an essay, preparing a presentation, or trying to somehow comprehend statistics).

I've now been told that Nepalis will love to see us traveling with a little girl, and that Naomi will be warmly welcomed in school. I hadn't thought about it, but of course they wear school uniforms there - how adorable will she be, 4 years old in a Nepali school uniform with new friends? What an amazing experience - this will actually be her first school - although she goes to preschool 2 half-days a week now, she doesn't start kindergarden until after we get back.

I also will be doing health research while we're there, which I can get credit for towards my degree. I haven't quite worked out the details, but I was thinking of maybe looking at what brings villagers to a health clinic, what care they are able to receive there, and what happens if they require more specialized care - do they get it? I read that more Nepalis rely on traditional Indian Ayurvedic medicine or even local 'witchdoctors' than Western-style medical care, which isn't uncommon in a developing country. I went to a brujo, or witchdoctor in rural Mexico, and it was awesome. We didn't speak the same language, I told him nothing about my history, and yet right away he pointed at my neck, where I suffered a severe injury many years ago that still gives me trouble, and many headaches. He chanted as he patted me all over with a bunch of damp, fragrant leaves, then enveloped me in the smoke of something or other, giving me a clay head idol on a string for future health. That was about 10 years ago - the head-on-string- hangs off my bed, although I'm not sure it has helped much, but I swear after I was 'treated' I felt great for several days - longer than I feel good for after a chiropractic visit!

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!!!

It has just come to my attention that some have had trouble with the "donate" button on our page, so if you have visited before and tried to donate unsuccessfully, or are reading this now - we are trying to resolve this problem. If you encounter a problem, please e-mail me at idftress@gmail.com, or donate via mail. Please don't let this put you off from sponsoring our worthy cause.

Thank you.

Thank God it's Thursday!

What a long week. The end of university term is taking its toll on me. One presentation down (and I didn't do such a great job, I'm really beating myself up about that one), one to go, 2 papers, an epidemiology exam, and worst of all: a biostatistics quiz and stats assignment. Statistics will be the death of me, I swear. I have learned more math since last April, and I'm still lost. I am doing this as both a personal challenge (I hate it when a part of my brain is underdeveloped, and thus feel the need to prove myself), but also as the means to get to the end= the goal of finally getting the career I want. I am currently studying community health and epidemiology, which I hope will lead me to the places I haven't manged to get to so far in life. Not just the physical places, but the satisfaction of life goal places. The process is often painful, I've shed some tears along the way already. Even though my daughter is nearly 4, the pregnancy hormones never seemed to quite wash out of my system, because I get emotional so easily now, and I never did before. I get frustrated, I feel my age as a 'mature student' (I was in university before some of the 'kids' in my classes were out of diapers). They make me feel old. But at least I don't need to use any of my scholarship funds on Clearasil.

And I'm feeling frustrated about Nepal - am having a hard time getting in touch with anyone there as I am trying to make some contacts before we go. If anyone out there knows any one connected to Pokhara University or any hospitals in that region, let me know!

Mermaids

My daughter Naomi wants to be a mermaid when she grows up. She has changed her mind, she used to want to be a fireman (not a firefighter, a fireman). She has now convinced all the girls at pre-school but one that they too want to be mermaids when they grow up. The one boy in the class agrees he wants to be a boy mermaid too.

Just look at that face.

This Week

Haven't had a lot of time to dream about Nepal this week, there are just 2 weeks left in the academic term to go. This means I have 1 group presentation and one individual presentation to give, 1 ten-page paper and 1 20-page paper to write, 1 biostatistics assignment and one stats quiz to live through (I admit it, I struggle with statistics), and one epidemiology exam to survive. If I get through all this, and somehow I will, I will have actually survived my first semester in a graduate level science program, which, if you knew me better, you would realize is hilarious. Although I am nearly the only one of my friends who did not attend art college (yet I have the degree in international development, I make my living as a photographer, and my best friend Julia who was Student President at art college wound up as a diplomat in Ottawa...), I am not especially science-y. Truthfully, I'm somewhere between artsy-fartsy and lab-geek, but closer to artsy on the continuum. Up until now I have been a "social scientist," as evidenced by my degrees in international development studies and sociology. I started university young and without a real plan, I would most likely do it differently if I could start over. For awhile I wanted to go to law school, but my older, cooler, magic mushroom-taking new-age hippy friends told me it would make me evil and talked me out of it. (It's their fault I became a vegetarian too - I was the victim of peer pressure at age 16 - they've all returned to carnivorous diets, I have remained true, but I would probably give it up if I could - my body wouldn't accept meat anymore, it's just been too long. But every now and then one of Michael's donairs smells really good.)

Two more weeks.

Making the Plans

We are going to volunteer in one of the world's poorest countries, where we have been accepted to work with INFO-Nepal (www.infonepal.org), which runs a variety of projects around the country. We plan to be near Pokhara, Nepal's second largest city, set on lake Phewa Tal reflecting the snow-covered Annapurna mountain range, described by more than one source as what Eden must have looked like, Heaven on earth.

I am so excited to see Naomi go to school with the local children as we teach or help at the local medical clinic. The daily grind of our daily commutes, never seeing each other (I go to university mornings, Michael works nights) and the general stress of First World living is wearing us thin and putting a strain on us all. We need this trip, to give back a little something to the planet, but more to find our way back to ourselves as a family again.

Unfortunately, even to volunteer, it costs a lot of money. It works out something like this:

Airfare for 3: $5,000
rooom and board in Nepal for 3 months: $3,500
immunizations $1,200 (estimate, may be worse, rabies shots for Naomi alone cost over $500!)

**UPDATE** I seriously underestimated this factor. Called my local pharmacy today with the list of suggested vaccinations: Hepatitis A and B for Naomi, TB for Naomi, flu shots, polio, typhoid, meningitis, rabies and Japanese Encephalitis for all of us. I thought the price of rabies was bad until I heard the cost of the Japanese Encephalitis shots: $1,200 for each of us! Hep A and B are going cheap at a mere $100 for three shots.

(And to make it sound like a Mastercard ad, "Trip of a Lifetime = Priceless!)

As you can see, this is no small undertaking, but we are committed to going, even if we have to remortgage our house! We have ordered our Nepali language tapes already and are anxiously awaiting their arrival (yes, all I need is something else to study while being in a full-time master's program, not to mention another language when I have studied 7 others already, and we all know the wide applicability of speaking Nepali outside of Nepal...), and I'm planning on preparing myself for celebrating my next birthday in the midst of monsoon season, which comes with leeches and mosquitoes.

Michael's Story

As I mentioned, Michael really isn't the tree-hugging type. Although he was a committed volunteer member of our local Fire Department for many years, he never understood why I cared so much about the plight of others so far away when there's so much to be done here at home. But one day in September he found himself watching a show on the National Geographic Channel about East Africa, with footage of the Savannah, and the landscape grabbed hold, and he started to feel something new. And he told me he wanted to see it for himself. I said, let's go. Let's just go. So at first it was Africa we planned to see, even though I've been there before. I was just happy he'd latched onto a goal, and one we could share, because things had been getting difficult around here. Michael's work schedule has him commuting 2 hours a day and working 9-10 hour shifts. He's been so overworked that he's continually exhausted, getting frequent headaches and stomach upsets, not to mention insomnia. He is one stressed out dude.

But as I started combing the internet for volunteer agencies we could work with, I found one that also ran programmes in Nepal, and somehow, the African Dream became the Nepali Dream. as it began to appeal to us more and more. Michael has always said he loves mountains, me, I'm an ocean lover, I hate to be far from the sea. But Nepal just seems so vastly far and different, the extreme opposite of where we are. We are at sea level, there we would be within reach of the top of the world, almost. I would like to spend some time in a brand new geography.

We currently have a lot of stress in our lives. A lot of the time Michael and I see each other for maybe 15 minutes a day - I leave for University before 8 am, before he and Naomi get up, and he drops her at her grandma's on his way to work, and I pick her up after class. Unless we wave to one another as we pass each other on the highway in opposite lanes, I don't see him until he gets home around 11 pm. It often seems now that we are the happiest and most animated while planning our trip. Without a bright spot in the future to look forward to, the daily grind is just wearing us down, especially him.

Sunday Morning

Playing games with Michael and Naomi. He swears she always beats him at Candyland, while I always seem to have to cheat to let her win. She isn't a sore loser, but I think Michael was starting to take it hard losing the third game in a row, but he made up for it by winning Old Maid.

Post-Hurricane Noel

The basement waters have receded after the flood slightly, enough for the plumber to fix the hot water tank ($349), so I'll get back to our story.

Nearly 4 years ago after our daughter was born, things were pretty rough for a while, well, a long while. For years up until then my husband and I had worked from home together, running a small import/export business that allowed us to travel every few years, and a gift shop featuring works by us and other Maritime craftspeople. But since September 11, 2001, we could could no longer rely on the tourism trade, plus we had a new tiny mouth to feed (and cute little bottom to keep in diapers -thankfully those days are over!). For months Michael didn't sleep for all his worrying, and not long after Naomi was born, I got sick. First it was occasional migraines, but then they lasted longer and longer and longer until they just never stopped. I was diagnosed with status migrainous, chronic daily headache, and post-partum depression. In the ensuing years I went through 4 family physicians and saw 3 neurologists, and went through trial and error of dozens of prescription drug combinations. At one point I took 9 different meds just to get through the day, and my headaches still weren't under control. The 2 things that got me through were the love of my husband, which never wavered, and my love for our daughter, who proved to be a bright shining miracle every day.

When Naomi was 10 months old Michael started working nightshift in the city, a big change for us. Having only one car, this meant I was now housebound and alone. As winter wore on I felt so trapped and miserable - there aren't any buses where we live, so I couldn't even go to the grocery store for a change of scenery. I found myself in my 30s with 2 university degrees that had done me no good but to incur thousands of dollars of student loans, far off any path I would have predicted for myself.

It took at least 2 years before my headaches were controlled enough that I could function again. Controlled means maybe 4-6 migraines a month, while continuing to take fistfuls of pills every day. Now my quality of life is almost back normal, but I am still not content with where I am in life. I thought I'd be working for UNICEF or Doctors Without Borders or some other development organization by now, far away from Canadian winters, doing just a little bit of good in the world. That's all I ever really wanted to do, disaster relief or AIDS work, or just be an extra pair of helping hands somewhere they are needed.

Michael never really understood this about me, and was not at all a do-gooder tree-hugging granola type in the least. But being a dad has softened him, but there's still more to his part of the story.

Hurricane Noel

Living on Nova Scotia's South Shore just outside of Halifax, we got pounded by the remains of Hurricane Noel Saturday night. Naomi was quite thrilled to try out all the flashlights, especially her roaring dinosaur one. The three of us snuggled down for the night together in the big bed, as the power inevitably cut out. Michael and I tossed and turned like the waves crashing across the road from us while Naomi slept like an oblivious angel. Even one of our three cats (usually banned from the bedroom) made it into the bed, adding to the warmth.

After the storm passed Michael mentioned that our sump-pump had blown up some time ago, leaving our basement hopelessly flooded and the furnace making an odd, whining noise.

Basement bailed out with borrowed pump, we set off for the beach to survey the damage.

For as long as I can remember...

I knew I belonged somewhere else. Maybe it was the first time I saw an issue of "National Geographic," learned about some tribe somewhere, realized there were other places to be, other ways to live. I just never felt quite right here, and I was always treated as if I were just a little bit odd (or strange, or weird. I prefer the term eccentric). As I grew older and understood more, the more I resented capitalism, First World Superiority, the culture of this McWorld. But then maybe that's just because I grew up lower-middle class. I instinctively felt that somewhere out there was a culture that had something better than materialism at its core, but then I grew up in a single parent family where my mom was all the family I had. Rarely satisfied with what was before me, I always dreamed of being somewhere else...And they say you can't run away from your problems...I have found over the years that the reverse is true. Once I was 15 I started moving, from Halifax to Germany, Portugal, Montreal, Toronto, and then at age 18, to Israel. That's a long story. Just the other day I was speaking to another former Israeli resident who said, "Israel is like the ex-husband you will always love but just can't live with."

How it all started...

If it didn't start in the womb (my mother's or mine?), I guess it began for me shortly after my daughter was born in 2003. For my husband, it came in a moment of clarity this past September, and then we suddenly knew what we needed to do. Without trying to sound overly cliche, or new-age hippy-ish, we need to go to Nepal.