Take a walk and call me in the morning…


Sometimes I believe I know things; I’m known and what I say has weight,  my words can be included – they have merit. Other times, like today, I believe the value of my words is almost entirely dependent on whether my audience deems them worthy. That’s not blog speak; that’s life speak. I’ve been reminded this weekend that it doesn’t take much to silence me. That surprises me…  that it is sometimes dead easy to make me simply shhhhhh. To stop talking. To lose confidence in my own voice.

That sucks.

I felt that today…badly. But then, I took a walk in nature… a hike. I walked with a good friend along a ridge overlooking an achingly beautiful river bend; swans below, ravens and eagles just overhead and magpies calling from the trees. Ha. No silence there… no silence outside or inside of me. I am thankful for the walk, for the insane beauty all around me, for the snowless ground and the startling gift of a few extra days of autumn sunshine in the Yukon.

I came back calmer, more peaceful… confidence in my voice restored. Perspective; it’s out there, thank goodness. Sometimes you just need to take a walk to find it.


There’s something disgusting out there!


There’s something disgusting out there. On the ground, on the sidewalk, just there – where I was about to step. It’s your spit! It’s the sputum you ejected violently from your mouth, right in my path. Where my FEET go! Where my SHOES go! Where (oh save me) my BARE FEET might go!!

I have never, in 46 years, needed to “hork a loogie” onto any sidewalk anywhere. Is that how you spell it? HORK a LOOGIE?  It’s fun to say, but how incredibly repulsive. How is it necessary? WHY is it necessary? Honestly, I am not particularly prim, not exceptionally la-di-dah.. I’ve let rip a nice loud anonymous fart once or twice (shhhh… no- let me take that back. I AM prim and proper, and now very embarrassed).

I do not see the need do not see the need do NOT see the need EVER to expectorate publicly. Mucous (cringe) and phlegm (gag) do not belong in the street. If you absolutely must divest of some nasty products please, use kleenex. Use a napkin. Use a paper towel or a good old fashioned linen handkerchief (but do not expect me to touch that thing, let alone wash it).  It is the oral equivalent of taking a dump, right there on the sidewalk. Sorry for the straight talk my friends, but that’s the truth.

Public spitting is  illegal in Singapore, Guangdong Province in China, London England, and the extremely civilized city of Saskatoon Canada. Saskatoon has it right; they have a bylaw, Bylaw No. 8994 in fact, called “The Public Spitting, Urination and Defecation Prohibition Bylaw”. You see?! They have it right… they have grouped spitting with the rest of those waste expulsion processes that rightly belong out of sight, and out of the flow of human traffic. Should you choose to “discharge phlegm, saliva, chewing tobacco juice or any other substance from the mouth”, you can expect to pay $100 for your first offense. It’s only fair.

Your spit, my spit, ANY spit is gross. It’s how illness is transmitted.  It’s a fetid, germy little stew.  As a citizen, I should not have to wade through your bodily waste as I amble down Main Street; ice cream cone in hand. Actually, the whole thought of mucous (bleargh) and phlegm (retch) makes me almost lose my lunch.

So, friends… shall we start a little revolution?  A little brigade of fed up citizens giving horkers the hairy eyeball and a mini lecture? Should I start carrying around little packets of tissue and insisting offenders take one or else? Should I employ my handy dandy little smart phone and upload photos of those people who insist on littering my city with the byproducts of their sinuses? Maybe I will. Maybe I will.

So, unless you are running a marathon (though seriously, I carry tissue when I run), climbing a mountain or performing some extreme sport, put it politely in a tissue or keep it in your head. There’s just no reason for that kind of nasty to ever see the light of day. And believe me… I’ll BE that crazy lady with the tissues. Just watch me. And smile…I just want to take a quick photo!



Very Inspiring Blogger Award. That’s right. You read that…


Well! I want to thank Jennifer of for nominating me for this lovely award. Jennifer’s blog is called Something of a Dreamer. I like that title…

She says:  “Happy New Year! I recently began reading your blog and love the voice, humor and thoughtfulness it projects. Thanks for the lovely words you share, and in turn, I nominated you for this little “award” – my way of saying that I’ll be a constant reader from now on!”

You should really check out her blog. It’s great… funny, real, and yeah… I have always been sure the treadmill is going to throw me at the back wall.

So the rules of this award (rules?!) indicate I must perform several rituals which include revealing 7 facts about myself.


  • Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog. Done and done.
  • List seven random things about yourself.
  • Nominate other blogs.
  • Notify the nominees.
  • Put the award logo on your blog.

The rules do NOT specify the nature of these facts; salacious? true? weird? freaky? questionable? awe-inspiring? Well, there are few enough of the latter so I’ll start with weird.

1. I have lived in the capital cities of all three of Canada’s Northern Territories. Not shitting you. Each one, moving eastward, is colder than the hounds of hell (aren’t the hounds of hell supposed to be cold?… wait…WHY would the hounds of hell be cold?). Hmmm.

2. I have had BABIES in all but 1 of the three northern capitals. What.. that’s too close to the first fact? No it’s not… my HUSBAND has also lived in all three and he has not delivered children in any of them, so it’s a decent enough fact.

3. I am a Certified Yukon Master Gardener. Well, I was… I don’t know how long that certification lasts. Given the state of my perennial borders I shouldn’t broadcast that actually. REVOKE!!!!

4. Wayne Gretzky stepped on my toe. Yes, he did so. In a bar in Banff Alberta back in 1980-something. Janet was there… sitting at the back of the bar looking all pretty & girlfriend-ish. The Canadian team had just whooped Russia’s ass in Calgary so they drove on up to the Silver City Saloon in Banff to step on some Canadian feet. All true.

5. I sang as the opening act for Blue Rodeo and Colin James, two separate concerts, two separate cities, way back in the “day”. That was the day when I was young, cool, skinny, and a pseudo (northern Canadian) rocker chic. I sang in a cool band. Also true.

6. I think 7 facts is probably too many to share; I really don’t know you very well.

7. When I moved to the North, my ACTUAL goal was to move to Mexico for a year. Yeah… helluva  wrong turn. Took a cool sounding job, moved north for “a year”. When people tell you they are going north for “a year”, do NOT believe them. Never happens.

Rule #3: Nominate other  blogs.

I’d like to nominate:  This is a GREAT blog, written by an awesome friend of mine named Donna. She is kind of a kick ass awesome chic, so mind your p’s & q’s. And keep your DAMN hands off her mustangs 🙂   The name pretty much says it all… as the mother of 3 teens I have been known to chant WTF (in its full, spelled out form) like a pissed off gregorian mother….     Obviously. This one’s a no-brainer. You’re probably already following her and if you’re not, well I’m just sorry. You should be too. Get over there now; you’ll thank me.

So there you go! My nominator linked, my 7 facts,  the lovely Contest Award Logo shared with one and all… I’m DONE!!!! YAY!!!



On grief, loss, friendship and hearts that can’t be unbroken.


I spent last weekend with her in the beautiful home they built together on top of a hill overlooking a river.  A home they dreamed of, worked toward and loved. It was the realization of a lifetime of hard work and planning… truly their dream home. They shared it for three years, and it made them so happy. There is so much joy everywhere in that house.. in every tile, fixture, deck chair. I’m happy I visited a year ago, with him proudly showing off every bell and every whistle.

When people have been a part of your life for, well, your whole life, it’s hard to measure their importance. This woman is not my mother, this man was not my father. They occupy a different, separate space in my heart that’s hard to define.  I have so much love for them that I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about or been fully aware of.  His death has hit me hard;  not the same as the loss of my own Dad, but still a powerful hurt.

Sitting with her last week, holding her while she cried, listening to her try and make sense of this bleak new universe,  I realized I had nothing wise to say. I have no words to make it better. I can’t fix anything. When she turned to me with a panicked and confused look on her face and asked “when will I remember? I keep thinking I can’t wait to tell him about our visit”, I felt helpless. I want so badly to mend something for her, to answer even one of her millions of unanswerable questions.

So I will do what I can… tiny, inconsequential and impotent as I feel. I will send her random texts reminding her that I love her, I will phone her, send her beautiful pictures and powerful stories. I will send her music… all her music is so deeply entwined with his memory that it hurts her to listen right now.

I know I will do so much less  than I want to for her.  What I truly want to do just can’t be done.



Mr. Leef, do you have something to say?

Mr. Leef:
I heard you talking this morning on CBC radio at length about something very few Yukoners are discussing… mixed martial arts. What a waste of air time, what a waste of an opportunity. We Yukoners are talking about the China Investment Treaty, and we are talking about fracking. We are talking about your leader’s new omnibus bill. You knew we’d be talking about those things, you understand that the real issues are what concern us here and yet you avoid any opportunity to open the dialogue with us and instead of addressing the genuine concerns of your thoughtful constituency you talked about MMA… we don’t care about MMA.
We do care about our country, and our sovereignty and about the sneaky way that Mr. Harper keeps trying to trick us into swallowing dirty legislation.
You won’t likely have a second term and I’m sure you know it… perhaps that’s why you are so concerned about making sure you get your single issue dealt with this term. You are an invisible MP. I know you’ve been invited to many events where you simply haven’t appeared. I know a lot of Yukoners have waited to hear you speak about all these important issues. Instead, when we finally hear your voice, it’s about the one issue that moves you. MMA. How disappointing.
I hope you read the letter attached above, sent to Mr. Harper and ignored. I hope you make use of the many opportunities afforded you to communicate with your constituency in a meaningful way. I know we will listen with interest.
Ranting Raver