No Right Answer
Author: jill
•10:57 AM
Recently there was a movie added to the OnDemand Movies feature of our Cable television. It is a movie that I do not have the strength to watch. I just don't need that kind of emotional stress in my life.

Last summer, my mother-in-law brought me My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult.

"Jill," she said, "I thought that you would really like this. Read it and tell me what you think."

So, I fondled it, as I like to do before reading and had a fleeting thought that this story might be a little too much for me to handle. Children who get cancer cannot make for a "feel-good" kind of story. But I wanted to read it anyway. Something about it drew me in ... the legal aspects, perhaps. Maybe I needed a good cry. Or the medical issues. Something.

By the time I got to the end of the book, I was an emotional wreck. I sobbed openly while reading the last couple of chapters, sending all my children into another room so that I could grieve in private. Poor Caiden had a (real) panic attack because he thought there was something really wrong with me. And I guess there was ... I had a broken heart.

In case you live in a cave and you have not heard about this story, I will give you a quick recap. Well, nothing is really "quick" about me but I'll try my best.

Kate is three years old when she is diagnosed with a grave form of cancer - leukemia, I think. The only hope is a perfect match as a donor; when Kate's older brother is disqualified, Kate's parents conceive another child in the hopes of producing a donor - which raises the first moral question.

Should people have babies to save other babies? I guess there are many reasons for a person to have a child. Maybe giving life to save a life isn't the worst reason ... but is it a good reason? I am sitting here, up on the fence, because I honestly don't know if there is a "right" answer to that question.

In the beginning, the only thing that was to be donated was the cord blood ... rich in platelets and other great stuff needed to fight off the cancer in Kate's blood. But as the years go by, little Anna becomes a human donor machine. It has been some time since I read this story, but if I can remember correctly Anna donated "stuff" to her sister several times; until it seemed as though if Kate had dry eyes, her mother would call Anna into the room and they would extract some tears from her.

The story really begins when Anna is eleven years old, and Kate is in need of a kidney. All of the other treatments she has endured have placed undue stress on her kidneys, and without a transplant she will die. But the decision has been made that Anna will provide the kidney. However, she does not want to be a donor for her sister any more so she hires herself an attorney in the hopes of winning medical emanicipation from her parents. She wants to be able to make the decisions regarding which medical treatments she will participate in.

The novel explores the legal questions/problems associated with this unprecedented situation ... as well as the moral/ethical issues. And don't forget about the impact on the rest of the family ... the ongoing illness as well as the impending legal decision. It really is a great read, if you can stand the emotional stress.

At the end of the story - and this is the part where I got a little hysterical - Anna wins emancipation; but only after she is forced to confess that it is Kate who does not want the treatments any longer. So, Anna is granted medical emancipation and she does not have to act as a donor for her sister. On her way from the Court House to the Hospital (in her lawyer's car) to tell her sister the news, they are struck and Anna is killed. That's right, she is declared brain dead in the ER.

But she is a candidate for organ donation.

So, in the end, she saves her sister's life and quite possibly, the lives of some other children. And we are left thinking that the sole purpose of this eleven-year-old child's life was to act as a supplier of bodily materials and parts. Little Anna took on the weight of the world in keeping her sister's secret and defying her mother's wishes, all the while knowing that her family was being pulled apart. But she did it for her sister ... just like she had done for her whole life.

My thoughts turned to Anna's mother. She is a desperate woman who cannot see past the goal of saving Kate. In fact, when Anna was born she admitted to herself that she was not interested in her new baby at all; but only in what she could give to her dying sister. It was as though she had created a "thing" instead of a person. A supplier. Kate's mother is blinded in her attempt to save her daughter; she cannot think in any terms other than saving Kate. Which I get. However, she lost all perspective with respect to what is in the best interests of everyone. Including Kate. I liken it to being in some sort of tunnel, where it is dark and small; and the light at the end is reached each time the current crisis is dealt with. Until the next hurdle, when the confining darkness descends and a solution must be found. I have felt this way before. Things are coming at you and all you can do react. Deal with each thing as it comes; but you lose perspective because you are too busy trying to come up with a quick fix. 

Don't we all understand the mother's desperation. I mean, if someone told me that one of my children was critically ill, I would do anything to save him/her. Anything. I would cut off my own arm, I would sell my soul, I would scream, I would beg, I would run around in a circle seventy-three times if I thought it would help. Anything. And, I am willing to bet that you feel exactly the same way that I do. When my Caiden was in the NICU, I would have done anything to help him. But all I could do was smother him with love ... which, luckily, I am very, very good at.

And, I also understand that knowing one of your children had something that could help another one of your children would be a huge influencing factor. If one of your daughter's had yellow shoes, and the other daughter needed yellow shoes, and they wore the same size, I would insist that the girls share their shoes. However, this was not sharing shoes. It was sharing DNA and organs. So, I understand this push (by the mother) to help but I don't know if I agree with it. It seems as though some of us need to always find a solution for the problem, no matter what it is. And finding the solution becomes more important than the actual impact of executing the solution. As a parent, I would need to know that I had thought of every possible way to fix the problem. I had done everything that I could to save my baby.

But poor little Anna grew up feeling as though she was nothing more than a donor. She was on hold until a part of her was needed for Kate. Did she feel loved by her mother?

There are children that have been born for the exact same reason as Anna. For real. And, how are they coping with their role in their family? Do they feel loved?

When my children ask me why I wanted a baby, I can give them all sorts of reasons. I had an inexplicable need to become a mother; I desperately wanted to experience pregnancy and giving birth; I wanted to snuggle a baby of my very own; I wanted to teach someone about the world; I wanted to be surrounded by a family of my very own. And, after I had my first baby, I wanted another one because the first one brought me a joy that I did not know existed. And I wanted a third one because if two brought me that much joy, imagine the delight I would experience from three little miracles.

However, I cannot imagine explaining to my child that I had it because I needed an organ donor.

But having said all that ... I can understand why parents might do it. Or consider it.

There is no right answer.

My Sister's Keeper (the movie) is OnDemand. But I don't think I can watch it. And so, even though it has almost been a year, these are my thoughts on this book.

I bet my mother-in-law is sorry she asked.

, , , | comments (3)
Addie C. Jones Can Chew Gum
Author: jill
•10:12 AM
When you are the third of three children, you always feel behind the others. They go to school, you do not. They get to stay up late, you do not. They can read, you cannot. And, they can chew gum ... but you are too little.

How do we know that Addie C. is too little to chew gum? Because we have tried ... and she always swallows it. The good news is that the length of time the gum is in her mouth (before swallowing it) has increased dramatically. For instance, the first time Addie C. tried gum, it remained in her mouth approximately thirty seconds before she announced it was gone. But now the time has grown to thirty minutes until we hear, "Uh-oh ... I swallowed it."

Do you remember the first time you tried gum? I don't. But I do remember my Grama giving me pieces of Juicy Fruit and Chiklits. Oh, how I love the little mutlicoloured Chiklits. I quickly graduated to bubble gum and I have very vivid memories of learning how to blow a bubble. I had the procedure down, but it took me a long time to master it. It was something that I had worked and worked on ... because I just had to do it. See? Even back then I made silly goals for myself. And I can even remember where I was when I finally did it. I also know that I could not have been more than five years old because we still lived at Rondeau Park. When I was three years old, my parents built a house there and we would live just outside the Provincial Park until I was almost six years old. Since there was only a corner store, we had to travel twenty or thirty minutes into Ridgetown for our groceries. So, on this particular day, I had twenty to thirty minutes to practice my bubble-blowing technique. In those days children did not have to sit in a car seat or a booster seat; in fact, they did not even have to wear a seat belt.

I am old, aren't I?

To tell you the truth, I probably had such a great view from the back seat because I was sitting on a case of empty beer bottles. Ha! Those were the days.

Anyhow, I can still see the road in my mind. We were just coming up to a big bend in the highway when it happened ... I blew a bubble with my bubble gum! I felt like I had really accomplished something. Something that I did all by myself, without any help from anyone.

So, when Addie C. kept bugging me for gum when "the big kids" had some, I could understand. She wanted to get it ... she wanted to learn to chew gum. And the only way to learn a skill (if that is what you want to call it) is to practice. So, every once in awhile, we give Addie C. a piece of gum and then wait to see what happens.
Last week, we gave her a piece of strawberry flavoured Bubblicious - cut in half. Because when you are a princess, you must have pink gum. And she chewed and she chewed and she chewed. In fact, she chewed for so long I finally had to force her to throw it away.

She did it! She chewed gum ... just like the big kids!! And she was so proud of herself.

"Daddy, guess what I did?" she said. Jonesy had a flash of fear go across his face because usually this question does not lead to anything good. But Addie C. continued the conversation before he really had any time to react. "I chewed gum ... for weel."

So, now every day she begs us for gum. Which is cool, but a whole new situation has arisen. She pulls the gum from her mouth, making the long string; she sticks her gum on the floor and then puts it back in her mouth; she rolls it into a ball between the palms of her hands and then puts it back into her mouth. Yesterday, she stuck it to a chair.

"Ummm ... Mommy, look at dis," Addie C. said. Again, this is not a great way to start a conversation with Addison because it usually means trouble.

"Oh," I said. "What is this? Do you know?" I used my finger to try and scrape the "stuff" off the seat of the computer chair.

"Yes," she giggles, chewing away on her strawberry flavoured Bubblicious. "Dats my gum."

"Isn't your gum in your mouth?" As if I don't already know the answer to my question.

"Yeah," she tells me. "Dats my gum and dis is my gum. I think it got stuck." She thinks it got stuck ...

Can you imagine sticking your gum to the seat of a chair ... even if it is in your own home ... and then putting it back in your mouth? Ugh.

So, I am waiting ... because I know the day will come when I am asked the question.

"Mommy, how do you blow a bubble with your gum?"

And, I will have an answer because I am an accomplished bubble gum bubble blower.
, | comments (1)
Flashback
Author: jill
•12:50 PM
I told the court about a political cartoon I'd seen several days before. It showed a child watching television - the Simpson trial.
"What's the forbidden N-word, Mommy?" asked the little girl.
The mother answered, "Nicole."
                  - Marcia Clark, in her closing argument for
                           People vs. Orenthal J. Simpson

It seems as though I have been transported back in time ... to June 1994. All the names are familiar, some I will never forget. It is beginning of what would become known as the Trial of the Century.

Did you watch the OJ Simpson trial on television? I am a law junkie ... you know this already if you are a regular reader of this blog. Of course, I watched it. I watched as much of it as I possibly could. I hungered for more, hanging on every legal phrase and making my own interpretations - which, in all honesty, sounded more like the ranting of a teenage girl than an adult who had recently graduated from University.

"Oh my God ... he is totally sedated. Look at him ... he can hardly keep his eyes open. I bet that lady is smart, but her hair has got to go."

In June of 1994, I was unemployed. Jonesy and I had only been married a couple of months, and had moved into an apartment in the small town where he worked as a Loans Officer for a Bank. We didn't know anyone in town except the old ladies at the Bank, so I didn't have any friends close-by; and I was searching for a job. By that point, I had that frantic feeling that I would never find a job and was destined to do nothing with my life.

If only I could have had the Internet with a blog to write ...

So, without any real purpose in my life, I became an OJ Trial junkie. I watched as much of it as I could. In fact, I think it was the only time in my whole life that I actually enjoyed doing the laundry. Because ... I had to fold the clean clothes somewhere so it might as well be in front of the television, right? And, I am also sure that Jonesy's dress shirts have never been ironed with the precision of detail as they were in those first few weeks during the preliminary hearings of the Simpson Trial.

I have been rivetted this last week while reading, Without a Doubt by Marcia Clark. It is her account of the Trial of the Century, and she holds nothing back. She tells it like it was ... or, how it was for her anyhow. It takes her almost five hundred pages to unload and she doesn't spare any details or anyone's feelings. She describes what was happening behind the scenes on the Prosecution Team and she thoroughly lays out the evidence against OJ.

You know, I wanted to like Marcia Clark. I really did. But she is not a warm and fuzzy person, and to me, she seemed emotionally void and unavailable. That is quite an opinion, considering that I have never spoken to the woman. But I say these things to make a point. When I wrote about The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell, I described the three personalities that are needed to create an epidemic - think of OJ's guilt as the epidemic that needed to be spread. Click here for a refresher. Marcia Clark knew the evidence against OJ better than anyone. She could explain the DNA findings, the timeline, the players, the motive, the law. She is a wealth of information with regards to this case. What Ms. Clark is not ... is a salesman. Remember that a salesman is a person with an indefinable quality that draws others to him/her. They are "cool" and have a contagious energy. They are charasmatic. Marcia Clark does not have that indescribable quality that makes a salesman. She is really smart, and she knows the law but she is not full of charisma. I am sure that she is a super nice person, however, on television I just could not connect with her. And, I think she had the same problem with the jury. They just didn't relate to her ... not because of the colour of her skin or her changing hairstyles or because she was a woman. Just of because of who she is - it's just her.

Marcia Clark has not had a fairytale life. She describes her crumbling down home, leaking more with each rainstorm. She filed for divorce the same week as the Simpson-Goldman murders, and her ex-husband sued for custody of her little boys during the middle of the Trial. She was sexually assaulted as a teenager, and she was in a violent relationship herself as a young adult. And as she was growing up, her family moved around a lot because of her father's job. Just as the family would get comfortable, and friends were made, they would have to pick up again and start over in a new town. I have not written about this before, but I have been noticing a trend. It seems that people who move around a lot as children have a difficult time establishing lasting friendships and/or relationships. I'll have to look into this topic more sometime...

The one thing that Marcia Clark and I do have in common is the love for our children. She is absolutely crazy for her little boys ... just like all moms. She describes how much she wanted a baby and her struggle to get pregnant. And then, once she was pregnant, she revelled in her growing tummy. She wrote as though she were a giddy school girl as she reminisced about that time in her life. It was very sweet.

If we could have seen that side of Marcia during the trial, I think that she would have been more revered by all as a hero. She is funny at times, remarkably empathetic (toward the victim's families), as well as extremely knowledgable and confident. Plus, she swears like a f*cking trucker - which I f*cking LOVE!! I wish that we could have known this Marcia but instead, we just saw a cold woman who sometimes came across as though she didn't care whether we liked her or not. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve.

Let me just add one thought ... I do not think that it is important to do things just so that people will like you. I hope you know me better than that by now. However, when you are playing at the level of the Simpson trial, you do need to play the game a little bit. A little politic-ing (is that word?), make nice with the Press. I don't recall the Prosecution taking their outrage to the Press/Public in the same way that the Defence did. I wanted to see Marcia Clark flabbergasted by some of the Judge's decisions and perhaps, make a couple of jokes. You know, be a person with an actual personality. Because that is how you get to know someone; and if you know the person, you tend to understand what it is they are trying to tell you. You trust them; you "get" them. This case was tried in the Press and you remember the power of the Press, right?
I will say, though ... Marcia Clark is a trooper. I have got to give her credit for the show of strength that she managed to put on every day. After reading the book, you will understand that she was literally falling apart, trying to function on three and four hours of sleep a night until her body would just collapse in exhaustion. There are times where she was reduced to tears in her office - and I don't think the tears had anything to do with being a woman, I think they had to do with a lack of sleep and a high level of stress. You know what I'm talking about, right ladies? Sometimes that release of emotion can solve all the problems of the world. For me, anyhow. The stress that poor woman was subjected to must have shortened her life span by three to five years. You cannot live under that kind of stress for an extended period of time without it impacting on your physical and mental self. This I know from experience.

I would love to lay out all the evidence against OJ ... because it is so overwhelming. You would be left without any doubt of his guilt. But Marcia does detail all the evidence and it is truly incredible. If you are interested in the specifics of the case, I would suggest that you read this book. As I read, I would gasp and then relay the information to Jonesy - sort of like I used to way back in 1994. I cannot understand how he was found not guilty.

Well, that's not true. I do understand why he was found not guilty.

The Dream Team. Wow ... what a show they put on. As a defense, it was really a work of pure genius. I do not like what they did, however, I appreciate what they did. Do you know that they did not dispute (at any time) that the blood found at the crime scene was OJ's blood? Nor did they try and dispute that the blood found all over OJ's property was that of Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown. The basis for their defense was that LAPD contaminated all the evidence. There were some stumbling blocks, but it was proven that there was no contamination and there was no evidence planted. However, by that time, the Jury had been influenced and some doubt had been introduced. At one point, the Defence tried to say that the blood collected had degraded to an unacceptable quality and that is why it was a match for OJ. Ha! So, Marcia had to put an expert on the stand to explain that if a blood evidence is contaminated or its quality becomes substandard, it produces no results. It does not turn into someone else's blood.

This is how the Defence spent their time ... wielding these ridiculous smoke screens, and forcing the Prosecution to deal with them.
The first mark of success for the Dream Team was when they advised the Defendant to invoke his right to a speedy trial. It forced the Prosecution to move in an unprecedented time fashion. For example, the normal time frame to prepare for a Preliminary Hearing is about three months. Marcia Clark had one week. This push to move things forward was crucial in the success of the Defence.

The other thing they did was create confusion. They took things way off course and forced everyone to look at things that had no real bearing on the case. But by the time the Prosecution took the time to prove how ridiculous the Defence Team's accusations were, the original point/evidence was lost. And it made it seem as though the Prosecution was concerned enough about the accusations that they needed to take the time to address it. It made it seem as though the Prosecution was on the defensive. It was really genius the way that they did it.

And finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention the Judge - Lance Ito. It seems to me that in an attempt to appear fair, he ultimately made some rather stupid rulings. And, he let the Dream Team run the show. I'm not sure if he was intimidated by the Defence lawyers' grandiose personas, or if he (Ito) wanted to be liked by the "cool" guys - that is, the Dream Team. Whatever the reasoning, some of the court room shenanigans should have been stopped early on. He was taken advantage of and lost complete control of the court room at times.

In my opinion, perhaps the most incredulous ruling he made was to allow OJ to make a statement when he revoked his right to testify. Anyone who is a legal junkie (like me) knows that the one of the main reasons a Defendant takes the stand in his own defence is because juries like to hear him/her say that they didn't do it. Juries like to hear it come right out of the Defendant's mouth. But, of course, the risk is that the Defendant must be cross examined. However, Lance Ito allowed OJ to make a small statement when he revoked his right to testify on his own behalf ... the jury got to hear him say that he did not commit the murders but he was not subjected to a cross examination. It was truly almost an unbelievable ruling.

There are many interesting tid-bits of information throughout the whole book - like, Lance Ito's wife was once Mark Fuhrman's boss; and one of the criminalists could quite possibly have had the sweatshirt that OJ wore during the murders in his hands while collecting evidence in OJ's bedroom, but didn't collect it - he didn't think it looked bloody. It's a great read ... especially if you are a law junkie.

And, I will never forget the day the verdict came down. It was a Monday and I had the day off work - how lucky was I!! At the office, it was known as a "Happy" Monday. I met my Mom for lunch and a little shopping. Our salads were interrupted when I heard the verdict was going to be read. We all crowded around the bar in the restaurant to watch it all unfold live on the television. When the Jury Foreman read their decision aloud, there was an audible gasp from the people around me. All of us were strangers to one another, but we shared something that we would always remember. It couldn't be true ... OJ Simpson had truly gotten away with murder.



Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman were forgotten. 


, , | comments (1)
The First Sign of Summer
Author: jill
•12:40 PM
It's Wednesday ... and it's suppose to be wordless. However, I have been kinda quiet lately, don't you think? So, I am pretty sure that I cannot be wordless today.

Luckily, that doesn't mean that I cannot have lots of pictures, too.

We spent our Victoria Day much the same as families all over Canada, I suppose. The kids played at the park, Mommy did a little laundry and Daddy did a little barbequing.

But the sure sign that summer has arrived is that we made S'mores for dessert.



Begin with excellent ingredients. Graham Crackers, chocolate, and of course, marshmallows. A couple of things about ingredients - don't be afraid to get creative. Caiden has life-threatening allergies to nuts, so finding chocolate has been a bit of challenge. I will have to admit to having used chocolate chips in the past; however, (my hero) Jonesy found some chocolate wafers at The BulkBarn. They were perfect and I would recommend checking them out if you make S'mores at your house. We used milk chocolate for the kids, and dark chocolate for us adults ... 'cause we're sophisticated n' stuff. I would also recommend using chocolate with nuts, if you are lucky enough to be able to do so. Don't tell my kids, but I have used chocolate with almonds after they have gone to bed. What? Parents do stuff that is fun after their kids go to sleep? Like I said ... don't tell on me. In place of graham crackers, I have tried Simple Pleasures cookies. The spice snaps with melty chocolate and gooey marshmallow ... well, do I need to say any more? Or, the social teas? Or the chocolate wafers?

In any case, gather all your ingredients and head outdoors. Don't forget a glass of wine ... red compliments the chocolate so nicely.



Now, Daddy takes over because he is the king of barbeque. And I readily support this because then I can relax and enjoy my kids and a glass of wine ... not always in that particular order.



While Daddy perfectly toasts the marshmallows, have someone in your family entertain you with interesting stories or absurd questions. This time, Caiden read his latest story to us. He just read Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney as was inspired to write a diary of his own. My favourite part is the "Copywrite 2010" ... look closely and you'll see it.



Finally, the S'mores are ready to eat.





Three happy kids = One Happy Mommy + One Happy Daddy



Now, in some cases, it is necessary to forego the boring graham cracker and just get the good stuff in the middle. Which I think pretty much exemplifies Addison's life.



Then, after you're all done, you get to just relax. And be kinda silly ... which is really what a holiday is all about, isn't it?
, | comments (1)
Changes
Author: jill
•9:24 AM
The great thing about life is that it is always changing. And mine is certainly no exception.

The change in my life right now involves The List. My reading list, that is.

Sometimes it is difficult for me to make a decision. I agonize and think about it too much. Which is why I decided to use someone else's list for my reading challenge.

There are some great things about the list. Most of the books have been fabulous and I have been introduced to some new authors that I love. I have read books that I never would have selected for myself and really enjoyed them. And, as I finished one book, I just had to look to my list to see what was next. No decisions to be made.

But that is going to change a little.

It seems that when I come upon a book that just doesn't make me want to consume it within hours, I get stalled. And easily distracted. Should every book make you want to stop your life to read it? Well, yes ... when you are trying to read one hundred books in one year. I need to be drawn into the story or the characters within the first couple of chapters ... or I seem to dawdle along. And that is part that I need to change.

So, I will be jumping around on the list a little bit and I am going to be replacing some books with substitutions of my choosing. Because there are friends out there who have sent me some great suggestions. You should not be surprised to learn that I have started a new list. Do you have a favourite book? Leave me a comment, or send me an email.

This was a difficult decision to make because I am sure that each book on this list is worth reading. And if I had not forced myself to finish some books, I would have missed out, as in the case of Gilead, or And the Band Played On. But life is about choices and I'm sure that whatever I read, I will learn new things. The point is that I want to read things that open my mind, that interest me and that draw me in.

Having said all the things that I have said ... The Remains of the Day is out. Whew ... I feel better for just having said it. It is easy to read, and somewhat entertaining. However, the characters do not engage me in the way that I like. And the story is slow moving, in a way makes it okay to not read for a couple of days. A couple of days? I should be finishing a book every couple of days. I'm sure I will find out that it is a literary masterpiece and an example of the type of fine writing all inspiring writers should imitate. If it is, then I can read it any time, right?

But, in the meantime, I have replaced it with Marcia Clark's re-telling of the OJ Simpson trial. Cannot wait to tell you about it ....
, | comments (1)
One Woman's Search for Everything
Author: jill
•7:58 PM
For as long as I can remember, my Mom has always told me that she likes to savour a book. And I have always thought that was one of the craziest things I had ever heard. Savour a book? Who savours a book? One should savour food, not a book.

I finally understand what all this savouring in my Mother's (reading) life has been about. Usually, I am one to plow through a book that has captured my attention ... reading while cooking, reading while supervising children outside, reading whenever I can.

I have finally finished savouring Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I am not the kind of person who gets involved with fads and the mainstream cutting edge populace. I am more of a traditionalist, who does what she wants because she wants to. So, when I tell you that I absolutely loved this book, it is because I absolutely do. Not because lots of other people do. If I could eat this book, I would ... that's how much I love it. And I would savour it.

I feel like I endured some therapy after having read this story, and that Liz and I each made transformations of our own because we are both different people when the story is finished. She made me realize things about myself and taught me the importance of balance in my life. You cannot just focus all your energy into one thing and be fulfilled.

Eat Pray Love has been on the New York Times Best Sellers List for 158 consecutive weeks, so I am willing to bet that you have (at least) heard of this book. It is the true story of "one woman's search for everything." She is looking to find balance in her life and to find balance within herself.

Gilbert is probably the opposite of a momoholic ... she is a momophobe. She doesn't want to have children and this realization is the catalyst for all the changes she makes in her life. She divorces her husband and leaves her rebound man to set out on a journey of self-discovery.

Gilbert first goes to Italy in search of pleasure ... and since she has taken a one-year vow of celibacy, she finds pleasure in food. She truly enjoys the regional food of Rome and the cultural traditions associated with food. For instance, in Italy, after watching a soccer match, the fans go out for ... get ready for it ... cream puffs. That's right, they all crowd into their favourite bakeries and celebrate (or drown their sorrows) with cream puffs. I am trying to imagine Jonesy and his buddies going out for cream puffs after a Michigan Wolverine's football game, and I'll be honest, I just can't see it.

The idea of four months in Italy is a dream for me. I would love to go and experience the life there. Not for just a two week vacation ... but live there in a small apartment, and wander along the cobblestone streets, down to the local market for fresh produce, followed by a stop at the Butchers for local meat and cheese. Roaming the countryside in search of new people and foods. Have you ever taken the time to really enjoy food? Appreciate it for its flavours? The idea of truly enjoying food was introduced to me in Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food. He talks about eating seasonal, locally-produced food and taking the time to sit at the table and truly appreciate its flavour. Gilbert lives in Italy for four months learning to speak Italian and enjoying food. She begins each day by asking herself what she would enjoy doing.

What would you like to do today? Take every obligation and person you know and shove them out of your life - just for a minute - and ask yourself what you would enjoy doing. I think she began each day with a cappuccino and a newspaper, which she read leisurely. Like, with no one asking her for juice or toast or anything. Bliss ...

But I would miss them by lunch time.

Gilbert talks about her failed relationships with men a lot. She put it into terms that I could really relate to ... in a totally different way. She identifies her biggest problem to be that she doesn't understand boundaries, nor does she respect them. When dating a man, she was utterly, head-over-heels in love and she lost herself in her man. She wrote about friends telling her that she actually looked like whomever she was dating. She would become that person.

Sound familiar? The idea of not having boundaries describes my relationship with my children. I became them ... I lost myself in them and their needs. I honestly could not separate myself from them at times.

Does this mean that I get to go to Italy for four months and read and eat the best pizza in the world and try gelatto for the first time? I didn't think so...

Gilbert leaves Italy and moves to India, where she lives in an ashram for four months. An ashram is a secluded residence used for religious retreat. She uses the time to master meditation and to find her spirituality in pursuit of devotion. She studies under her Guru.

I have mentioned in the past that I am not a religious person ... I have too many questions. However, I do not think that meditation is solely for the purpose of finding God ... I think it is about quietening your brain ... letting your brain rest. Then, I believe you can find peace within yourself and perhaps understand your own spirituality.

Spirituality does not equal religion or God. I think there are many people who believe that if you are a spiritual person, you have a deep faith in God. I do not. For me, spirituality is more of an energy ... an energy that eminates through our bodies connecting our physical selves with our souls. According to Dictionary.com a soul is the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body.

Okay, this is gettin' heavy.

Suffice it to say that I would be very excited to visit the ashram, and try to centre myself through meditation. I'll let you in on a little secret ... I tried to meditate a few times. I actually bought a book to learn more about it back in the days of infertility. I thought that if I could quiet my body and reduce the stress that I was feeling, then perhaps all systems would work as they should. Meditation can be rejuvenating ... this was the theory I worked from. I can say that meditation is not something that you just decide to do. It's hard to sit quietly ... in fact, these days, I can hardly imagine sitting quietly for more than three minutes.

I think that it was during her time at the ashram that Gilbert made the most strides toward centering herself and finding some peace. You could almost feel the calm descend over her.

For her final four months, Gilbert travelled to Indonesia in search of balance. She wants to learn from a Medicine Man, Ketut Liyer.

You know, I wasn't even sure where Indonesia was on the globe ... I have rectified that problem. Of course I had heard of Bali ... but I didn't know that it was in Indonesia. I guess I should have paid more attention in Geography class. Ugh.

I think that I would travel all the way to Indonesia just to meet the Medicine Man, Ketut Liyer ... and judging by the videos on YouTube, there are women who have actually done so. The Medicine Man agrees to teach "Liss" (as he calls her) about Balinese meditation in exchange for her teaching him to speak better English. And so their friendship begins.

Liss spends her four months in Bali making new friends, helping them with their struggles, learning some of the customs and eventually, finding love once again. And yes, she practices Balinese meditation.

For a woman like me, who feels as though she has lost a little bit of herself ... perhaps a little bit of her spirit ... this book was just what I needed. And, I can imagine myself re-reading parts of it when I am feeling like I have wandered off my path.

There is a movie coming out in the summer, starring Julia Roberts. I'm sure it will be fabulous ... but will it be better than the book? Absolutely no way!!!! I'll see you there ...

, , , , | comments (1)
One of Those Days
Author: jill
•7:30 PM
Have you ever just had one of those days? Like, the kind of day that no matter what you touch, it becomes a problem? I don't like today. Today was one of those days.

It's not that anything terribly terrible happened. It's just that today happened at all. Every single thing I did seemed to turn into an ordeal. This post, for instance, has taken three times to complete. Blogger seems to be f-ing me over ... but that's not everything. Addison has thrown several temper tantrums today over food; ice cubes have fallen to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces never to be found; the gross leftover bits of food and ketchup fell on the floor instead of going straight into the garbage; the batteries kept falling out of the stupid remote for the VCR; I forgot there was one last load of clothes in the dryer, so now they are all extra wrinkley; Jonesy went out of town; Addie keeps playing a very annoying music.

See? Nothing really life shattering ... just a bunch of super annoying shit.

To get through this type of day, I turn to the sure thing. Yummy sugary treats. This is wrong ... but sometimes in a lady's life it just has to be this way. So, I thought I would share my favourites.





Cookies ... I love, love cookies. There is nothing like a warm cookie fresh from the oven. Crispy around the edges and ooey-gooey in the middle. Oooh ... I just love all cookies.



Chocolate is pretty much a staple in life, isn't it? I do not know any person - big or small - who does not like chocolate. And, sometimes, you just need it. The new favourite at our house is the Chocolate Fondue. And since we eat it with fruit, I don't know how it could be considered anthing other than healthy.


This is my new favourite cake ... well, actually it is a semolina pudding. But, trust me, it's cake. It is make with toasted coconut, yogurt and semolina flour; and, it is soooooo moist and yummy. I like to serve it with some kind of chocolate sauce and fruit puree. However, I had some heavy cream left over from the Mother's Day festivities, so I whipped it up and dolloped some on top. Fancy, huh? I was going to share the recipe, but since Blogger is giving me a hard time, I'll save it for another day.



Okay, I know. Biscotti are technically a cookie. But I love them so much that they deserve special mention. And, I have only recently re-discovered them. There was a time when I made them all the time ... many many batches at Christmas time. But then, children came around and chocolate chip seems to be a priority amongst them. I baked some Biscotti the day I went into labour with Caiden ... that was my first clue that there was something wrong with me. I completely ruined them ... they were absolutely disgusting - if a cookie can actually be disgusting. And, I had made them so many times that there was no way that I didn't have the technique down ... something was terribly wrong. It turned out that my baby would be born 9 weeks premature ... so obviously my body was not working properly that day. But don't let that stop you from making your own biscotti ... they are low in sugar, crunchy, yummy.


But not today, because today is one of those days. So I burned them. In times like these, I have to rely on my other friend ... the one that never lets me down. Big Bottle of Wine.

Editorial Comment: Blogger will not let me centre this post properly. And I have invested several minutes, over several occasions today trying to get this entry posted. And so, just out of spite, I am going to post it ... even if it looks ridiculous.

| comments (1)