Retirement planning, ruthieB style

As I was getting ready to leave work yesterday, I jotted down a couple of quick notes to stick in files that will require action Monday morning. One of my coworkers asked if I was taking Monday off (thereby leaving notes for someone else to intercede). I said, "No, I'll probably be here. But if, by some chance, Mr X and I win the lottery on Saturday night I most certainly will not be here on Monday. Or ever again. And then you'll all be happy for these little notes." Oh, I'd go back for posterity, hand in my key and clean off my desk, invite everyone to the nearest pub for a celebratory nip, but I sure as tootin' wouldn't be sitting there in any employment capacity ever again. We then, of course, got into a "if I won 12 million dollars..." discussion.

Here's what I think I'd do...

First, I'd divide it in half and give half to Mr X. It's only fair -- I pretty much want to give all of mine away and that wouldn't really be fair to him. He wants a farm and it would take about an hour and a half to spend $6 million dollars on a decent farm. Let's just hope it would be viable because I plan on living off of him for the rest of my life. And I need a place to house the raggedy animals I would be rescuing. (And I really want a donkey!)

I'd give a lot to each of my daughters. Yeah, yeah, I realize that it's good for them to make their own ways in this world and all that, but it would make my heart oh, so happy to see them never have to worry about money again. Not that they'd never have to work again, because they both have a wonderful work ethic and they're smart and I'd hate to see them not use their talents ever again, but they could do exactly what they want to do.

I'd want to help out my siblings a bit, take care of any needs my mum might have, set up a fund for whatever I decide would do the most good, then I'd buy my dream car -- a Subaru Outback. Green in colour, manual transmission, lots of windows for my dogs to hang their drooling heads out of. It doesn't have to be new, but what the hell, I'm rich. Why wouldn't it be?

Then I'd find a nice little old house in Saskatoon, not far from Broadway. (If you've never been to Saskatoon you really should find a reason to go. It's a treasure -- a gorgeous little city with lots of bridges, parks, festivals, music, and young, energetic people -- not to mention free wireless internet in many areas because of the large student population. p.s. Go in the summer. I'm just sayin'.) I wouldn't, technically, live in the little house, but we'd all have it for a getaway place and a home-away-from-home when we'd go to University. Well, when I'd go to University, anyway. But I expect my kids would go too, at some point, so they would be able to realize their career dreams, whatever they may be.

That's all I want. A bit of travel would be nice, but my dream is simple and homey. It sounds so perfect.

Unfortunately, I forgot to buy a ticket again tonight, so it's all still a dream. Or, maybe we'll just end up doing it the hard way. ;)

Captain Kirk is the coolest

We had a bit of a discussion about Star Trek today at work. Well, I did anyway, and my coworkers smiled and nodded and acted interested (I don't think I work with any Star Trek fans). I think it started because I was wearing short black pants (capri-ish) with boots and I always feel like I should be on the Enterprise when I wear that outfit. To add to the ambiance, my screen-saver at work is Beam Me Up Scotty (a carry-over from the crazy real estate boom of a year or two ago); combien appropriate.

I love Star Trek. The old ones. (I only saw them in reruns because we didn't have a TV when they were new.) It was genius, really, considering it was created more than 40 years ago. The flip-top communication devices (cell phones?), the sterile food from the little food slots (no listeriosis in those puppies!), the confident black woman (Uhura was nobody's fool!) and the Asian guy at the controls.

For SURE you didn't want to be the nameless guy in the red shirt going on a mission to an unknown planet, though. Those guys never came back.

I often marvel at how we're turning into a sterile Star Trek world. Computerized to the nth degree. We don't want to talk to a bank representative anymore -- we can do it all online, even get a mortgage without actually talking to a human being at the bank. We sit on the bus with an ipod in our ear or a computer on our lap instead of talking to the mortal sitting beside us, even though we see them on the same bus at the same time every day on our way to work. We drive our cars into our attached garages, slip silently into our houses and go two years without ever talking to the next-door neighbour. We'd rather email than phone because what if they're busy and don't have time to talk? (I am SO guilty of that one!) And if, by some fluke, someone actually does call we can just check our call display and ignore the call anyway.

I can see us all living in a USS Enterprise world someday not far off. Isolated, quiet, sanitary, clinical. People are annoying. They smoke, smell like perfume, drive too fast/slow, let their cats wander. Remember the Enterprise? No one was ever in the hallways. There wasn't any loud music to annoy the fellow crew. There was no clutter; no pictures, no religion, nothing to offend.

Nah. I kind of like diversity. I like weirdness. I like the neighbourhood cats, even though they poo in my yard and freak out my dogs (and my cats who aren't allowed outside). I miss the days when we just tolerated things that other people did because we weren't more important than they were, their feelings were just as valid as ours.

I only have a few good decades left on this planet (if I'm really lucky. How sobering is that?) and I hope I never have to see the day that we forget where we came from, forget how to communicate face to face or forget to care if the guy beside us is happy or sad. Captain Kirk was cool, but he didn't seem to have a family and he didn't much seem to care.

Maybe I need to look up some reruns of Bonanza...

A day in the life ... a Thursday

6:20: Caddy jumps up on the pillow beside me. He knows the radio will come on at 6:30 and he always beats it by a few minutes. He wakes me up every day, just before Harry Michael Dekker on 1050 CJNB does (Harry lives in my old house on Martin Crescent, oddly enough), and I get a nice couple of nuzzles while I'm still half asleep.
6:30: The radio comes on, Harry tells me that Lorne Calvert (my beloved, but former, NDP Premier) is stepping down today. I'm disappointed. He's a sweetheart and I'll miss him. Charlotte (to my right) stretches and Puddy (at the bottom of the bed with Smokey) grunts. I'm very important, and when I wake up everybody else does, too. I lay there for a few minutes, listening to the news and soon I have three cats and two dogs standing over me, waiting patiently.
6:40: I announce it's time to get up, everybody jumps off the bed and runs to the kitchen ahead of me. Let the dogs out, gather the dishes, get the food ready, let the dogs back in. Everyone's favorite time of the day.
7:00: Turn on Andre's lights, turn on the TV (Canada AM, even though Seamus drives me crazy every single day), get the newspaper, turn on the computer, put on the coffee, jump in the shower.
7:20: Give Andre some salad, a few tasty superworms, bring the newspaper and coffee and visit with him while he eats. Watch a bit of the news, check out Facebook and email, start getting ready for work.
8:20: Let the dogs out and in again, head to work.
8:30-12 noon: Boss' day. Have a bit of a kerfuffle with the new girl about what to do for boss' day (we say do nothing -- it's the long-standing, well-accepted custom -- but she insists something must be done!), get some work done, coffee break (tea, actually) at 10:30, do some more work, some visiting, do some damage control on the boss' day issue, head home for lunch.
12-12:50: Nyk brings the kids over for lunch. Chaeli and I give Andre some crickets in his big see-through rubbermaid container -- too many crix, but he eats as many as he can catch! -- Mr X calls (he's in Alberta), Nyk takes Chaeli to school, I go back to work.
1pm - 5pm: Unsuccessful on the damage-control. New girl decided to buy stuff for boss' day after all, kerfuffle escalates. Everyone is unhappy, but we concede and sign the damn card and each pitch in a couple of bucks anyway. Open a couple of new files, go for coffee at 3:30, see a couple of clients, make a few phone calls. Order chinese for pickup, head for home.
5:15: Come home to a very warm, furry welcome. Lots of hugs and kisses, everyone is so happy to see me, the most beloved, home again. Go out with the dogs for awhile, run around, talk to the neighbour girl for a few minutes. Back inside, play some tunes on my ipod (Kid Rock, Cocky album), sit at the table with my ginger beef and rice and surf on the laptop. Call Nyk -- she's hilarious on Facebook today, silly silly girl. Look at Mandy's beautiful Ottawa pics, read email from my sis, check a couple of message boards. Wonder why someone I invited to be my friend on FB (I rarely invite for fear of rejection!) hasn't replied yet.
6:00: Take the dogs for a ride to Sobey's. Just need a couple of things: yogurt and granola for me, orange cupcakes (with bats!) for Chaeli because I promised, dandelion leaves, red and green peppers, squash for Andre. Forgot to buy Christmas oranges.
6:20: Back home, put some tunes on again, empty the dishwasher, make Andre's salad (enough for a few days) let Andre run around the bathroom for awhile, put him in the bath, bring the laptop so I can surf while he swims, (it should be said that dragons are very high-maintenance), dry him off, put him back in his tank, wait for Nyk to come over, turn off Andre's lights when he tucks in for the night.
8:00: Nyk arrives right on time, we take Charlotte and go for our evening walk. It's very dark these days, so we walk down mainstreet where its well-lit. Charlotte poops twice tonight and I just took one bag along. Crisis! I have kleenex in my pocket so I can at least move the second poo off the sidewalk. I feel awful, though. From now on, I'll be sure to take two bags for poo. (They are biodegradable -- it's okay!)
9:00: Mr X calls as soon as we walk in the door, Nyk heads home, I talk to Mr X for awhile, look up some stuff for him online, we are both a little mushy and missing each other today. I like it.
10:00: Turn on the news, surf again for a bit, start getting ready for bed.
10:30: Go out with the dogs, fill a dish for the cats, wash up, head to bed to read The Last Lecture -- my first book-club book and a very good read, everyone hops up on the bed with me. Can hardly believe tomorrow is Friday already!

Mitchie's Birthday slash Election Day

Today celebrates two of my favorite things -- my oldest daughter, Michelle, and a federal election.

Oh, how I love elections. I even love the never-ending American election. I love the polls, the debates, the ridiculously impossible-to-carry-out promises, even the negative ads (because where else are you going to find out how many times a candidate has voted against your pet issue?). I subscribe to Time and MacLeans just so I can read copious amounts of political drivel that no one else I know cares about.

It's blissfully distracting this year, more than ever, to pick my guy and watch endless hours of results tonight to see how he does. In the past couple of weeks the only TV I have been able to watch is news and football. Since Emily was killed, (and this perplexes even me -- can my sisters relate at all?) sitcoms, movies, even Heroes ( and I loved the previous seasons), seem uninteresting and agonizingly trivial. I can't be bothered to commit myself to get involved in anyone else's issues, especially not pretend people on TV. Perhaps it's because my emotions have been completely tapped out since September 27th and What Matters and What Doesn't Matter have never been so conspicuous.

Mitchie voted with me after work -- Nyk and Miles voted earlier-- (go Orange!) and now she and Mark are watching movies for her birthday. I bought her a cake for her birthday and she gave me a bottle of Gibsons for watching her Gibsyn over the weekend. Yum, lucky me.

So, Mitchie is now 27. I remember very well the day she was born and I could tell stories all night of the fun we have shared over the years. I'm just SO happy that she lives here and I can see her every day. I'm happy that, in spite of me and my bumbling parenting through the years, she has turned out to be a clever, hard-working, responsible, fun, caring young woman.

What matters and what doesn't matter...nothing matters more than family and I am so very thankful for mine.

Have you cuddled your lizard today?

This is our little buddy, Andre the Dragon.

Andre came to live with us almost a month ago. He's a couple of years old, about 18 inches long (which is a good size for a Bearded Dragon!) and he's just about the sweetest little guy evah.

Andre doesn't do a whole lot, but he's just so cute doing nothing that it doesn't really matter. Even Nyk, who threatened to not come to our house anymore if I got a dragon, kind of likes him now. She doesn't touch him, but she likes to watch him. :P

Unlike her mom, Chaeli just loves Andre. She hasn't been able to hold him yet (because her hands are too tiny and his body needs a lot of support) but she pets him and talks to him every day. She likes to watch him eat crickets and worms, too!

The other day I had thawed out a frozen pinky mouse for a treat for Andre. I gave it to him in the morning and ran out of the room before he could tear it apart in front of me. Well, to my surprise he didn't eat it at all -- even when I put a couple of worms beside the pinky to draw his attention to it, he completely ignored it. It just laid there like it was sleeping. (wah!) When I got home at lunchtime, Nyk was here with the kids and Chaeli had already discovered the pinky. She called to her mom that Andre didn't eat his piggie yet, which kind of freaked Nyk out a bit. :D Chaeli showed me the "pig" when I got in the house and I told her that it was a little mouse, but it wasn't real and it was just like a candy for Andre. She said, "no, it's not a candy. It's a little pig! Look at his little tail and his hands and his eyes! He's sleeping! When he wakes up I'll hold him and pet him and he'll like me!" uh-oh.

Suddenly, Andre figures it out and takes a stab at the mouse. I grab Chaeli and we run out of the room. I distract her for awhile with cupcakes (po-cakes) in the kitchen but soon realize that she has gone back into Andre's room. Now, I have no idea if he'll eat the whole pinky at once (it was tiny) or if there will be mouse parts lingering in his dish so I go running to see if Chaeli is freaked out. I bump into her coming out of Andre's room.
"Are you okay?", I ask.
"Yeah, I'm okay." She answers, all la de da. "Andre ate the pig."
"Oh, it's just pretend." I say, all damage-control. "It's just like a candy for Andre. Just a pretend mouse."
"No", she informs me, "It's not pretend. It's a real pig. And he ate it." And off she went to play.

She is the coolest.

Two things you need to know

1. Justin Nozuka: Canadian boy, writes the most incredible stuff and sings it as though he's lived through all of the hurt and joy you could know in about 100 years. He's like, all of 19. Have a listen on youtube or just google him (or click on the title of this blog entry for a sample video!) then run out and buy his CD Holly. You'll love every single song, if you have any musical sense at all.

2. Tim Horton's Pumpkin Spice tea. May I recommend ordering it with one cream, one sugar. It's ridiculously delicious -- like pumpkin pie and whipped cream in a warm, toasty cup! Thanks, Mitchie!

It's Thanksgiving Sunday today and I've been hanging out by myself most of the day, with the exception of a short shopping trip with Nyckee (yeay, Nyckee!). If you can call hanging with Puddy, Charlotte, Gibby (Mitchie's dog), Smokey, Cadillac, Orangey, and Andre the Dragon, being alone. Yeah, no. Probably not.

I did manage to rake up 9, count 'em 9, large bags of leaves and it doesn't look like I've raked at all yet, and I vacuumed my car after the dogs ran through puddles of mud when we were out this morning and tracked it all over my car seats.

It's been a decent day. It's gorgeous outside and Nyk and I are going to go for a walk later, which sounds like tonnes o' fun. We always have fun on our walks, and I'll really miss them when it gets too cold. Wah. I hate winter already.

Needing some blogging therapy

It's been so long since I wrote here that I doubt anyone reads anymore, but I need to pour out some thoughts and writing is the most cathartic release for me.

September 27, 2008. A day that changed our world forever. My brother's daughter, my beloved niece Emily, was brutally attacked and murdered while she was out for a walk in the trees that she loved on a sunny afternoon.

Emily was one of those precious children who makes you smile every time you think of her. A couple years ago, I stayed in her bedroom while I was out visiting her family and my mum for Thanksgiving. I'd always thought Emily was adorable -- blonde, tenderhearted, musically gifted, smart, obedient, gentle. And Emily, like me, loved animals. Maybe it was because I was in her room, seeing pictures of things that she loved on her walls, that I felt a special love for her. We talked about her music and we talked about animals. I was delighted to see her growing into a young woman who seemed comfortable in her own skin.

In August this year, we had a reunion of our immediate family. I think we were all amazed by Emily that weekend. She was so tall, so beautiful. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She was comfortable with the adults and was helpful with the little ones. It was obvious that she loved her family -- her parents and her sisters (her brother was at camp, so he wasn't with us). She spoke so easily with her parents. I even took a picture of her talking to her mom because I wanted to always have a snapshot of that comfortable, friendly relationship.

When we gathered on the front steps for a family picture, it was Emily who set up the camera for the big picture. She was responsible and she was a great photographer, so it didn't faze any of us that a 14-year-old was taking the most important picture. She just jumped right in there and did it. And it looked like she was having so much fun.

How could we have known that we would never see her again.

Now what? How do her parents go on? Her little sisters? Her brother who was also a friend? How can we who have known and loved her for 14 years not watch her become a happy wife and mother, not hear her play the violin at her Grandma's next birthday, not enjoy another video on Facebook of her playing the piano?

How can the man who beat her and choked her and left her on the pathway be out there still? Is he enjoying a cold one with friends, listening to his favorite tunes right now? Going to work, laughing with his family? Was he at the funeral? Is he still in Edson or is he here, 6 hours up the Yellowhead highway, looking for someone else to kill?

Emily loved Jesus. That's a good thing. We have to believe she is happy now, in His presence. There's comfort in that. I know she sure wasn't in that body anymore that was laying in that room on Thursday night, so beautiful and so silent. Her hair. Agh. Just looking at her beautiful hair as she was laying there. Her lovely hands. The WASTE of it all. It just hurts so much to think of the waste of that beauty, that talent, that knowledge, that lovely, lovely girl.

And the pain. Her pain. The pain of her parents that is just beginning. It's too much.

What can we do, those of us who love her parents and her siblings? How can we help to share the pain so it doesn't overwhelm them?

This happens every day somewhere in the world. You'd think someone would have some magical answer by now how to go on. But there is no answer because it's too insanely wrong.