Rocky

It was late spring. Or summer. I don't know. I know it was definitely early evening and my two sisters and I and our Dad were walking along the railroad tracks on our way home from an early evening walk. We literally lived on the wrong side of the tracks in Whistler.
Anyway, one of us looked behind us and noticed we were being followed.

It was a raccoon. He was teeny tiny. And he was alone.

We'd been warned about raccoons (and bears and cougars. They were regulars in our backyards growing up. It's why we had a lot of cats go missing) so Dad told us to go on ahead and he would scare it away.
My sisters and I plodded up the path to home and I'm not sure how long it was before Dad came through the door and we all ran up to him to ask him what happened.
What happened was that Dad had the raccoon in his arms. He'd brought the little thing home.

Naturally we were all very curious and pokey. Turns out the little dude was blind and possibly abandoned because of it?  Dad set up a little spot for him outside if he wanted to leave overnight. But come morning little Rocky, as we came to know him, was still in his makeshift home. It looked like we had ourselves a new pet!

None of us remember much more than this, honestly. We don't even have a picture of him to prove this happened. I don't know what Buffy the dog thought of Rocky, or what Mom thought of him, or what we fed him, but what I do know for sure is how Rocky felt about Dad. Rocky fell in love with Dad. He liked his scratchy beard so much he'd perch on Dads shoulder and just rub his little snout in it. He peed on Dad a bunch while doing this which we all thought was hilarious. I'm pretty sure Dad was smitten with Rocky too. This was a bromance in the making.

 I doubt we were allowed to hold Rocky or anything. On account of the rabies. But he was pretty darn cute nonetheless. He stayed with us for that late spring or summer, again no one is quite sure how long he was with us, until one day my sisters and I woke up and Rocky was gone. Dad told us he'd gone to the raccoon farm.

Right.

It was only just a couple years ago Ashley realized there wasn't an actual raccoon farm. We told her what we thought we knew happened- we assumed Dad had...dealt with it. We didn't think any less of him for it or anything, we just accepted it and moved on.
I just talked to my father, to try and nail down some details, and he maintains to this day, there wasn't an actual 'raccoon farm' where raccoons frolic and scavenge merrily through well placed garbage cans, but that it was someone named Eugene Rickle and he had a wildlife preservation something or other in the Interior of BC and that's where Rocky went.
Well, if I've googled correctly, and that's the farm, the website has a photo of a cougar on the front, so RIP Rocky, RIP indeed.
We don't remember much about you, but we know you were there. And you peed a bunch.

Not Rocky, but a dude who scampers through my backyard every day at 3pm. VERY punctual.

By now you know who Joseph Kony is.
I don't need to tell you.
I'm ecstatic the video went viral so quickly, frankly I shouldn't have been surprised.
And now the backlash.

Of course Invisible Children, the company behind Kony2012.com isn't perfect. But at least they aren't standing by ignorantly and letting passivity take over. They are TRYING to do SOMETHING.
People focused on the negative aspects bug me. All the negative feedback may be true, but people are talking. Isn't that enough? 13 million views on YouTube, they've done something right.  Even if only 1 million people actually DO something out of that 13 million....that's something.
It's impressive to watch on Facebook and Twitter...to watch the message spread, just by people sharing. I mean, isn't that we all learn in kindergarten? How to share?
And if you watched Kony 2012 and you watched Jacob break down, and still felt nothing but negativity, then you are cold and dead inside. Jacob would rather DIE to be with his brother again, rather than live through that hell. That's how bad it is. Multiply that by thousands and thousands. The point I'm making is...I don't know, really. I'm just thinking out loud.

 It's good to be informed. It's good to want to know both sides of the story. But don't let that stop you from trying to do good, from trying to BE good.
I hope that in 3 months, people are still talking about this. I hope Kony does make it on the cover of the magazines, and that he's not just the soup of the day.

I hope he and his fellow bad guys are stopped.

The Nutcracker

As a kid, Christmas is kind of a big deal. It's a time where you do things the exact same way you did them the year previously, because that's tradition, and tradition brings back good memories. Or, as in the case of bad memories, laughter that comes much, much later.

One of my all time favorite Christmas time memory is the time my Grandma took the granddaughters to the ballet. She had organized a special night for us girls to watch The Nutcracker in Vancouver.

side note: Grandma will be known as 'Grams' from now on, cause Grandma and Grandpa get cool nicknames that make no sense but everyone calls them that anyway.

The granddaughters at this point in life consisted of my two sisters Ashley and Shannon and our cousin Kate. Kate lived in Nanaimo, and if you've read previous posts you know by now I lived in Whistler, and Gram lived in Osoyoos but somehow our family had arranged it so we met in Vancouver for a special evening.
Actually we probably met in Horseshoe Bay at the designated meet up point and Gram probably suffered through Vancouver traffic to get us to the hotel safely while the four of us jibber jabbered in the back seats.
The hotel!! We stayed in a hotel! This didn't happen a lot and I believe this began my infatuation with nice hotel rooms, ones with pretty views and nice bedspreads, and free stationary and random extra chairs situated throughout the room.
I don't remember the hotel we stayed in but I remember a part of the view was the Woodwards W rotating on top of a building and been kind of mesmerized by that and wondering why someone would put a W on top of a building and not another letter.

So we're staying in the city, it's Christmas time, and when you're little,everything seems huge. So a big sparkly city with sparkly decorations...my mind was blown.
I remember walking by The Hudson's Bay store with the big windows decorated with tinsel, and white fluff and fake snow and colors and lights and shapes of all sizes and Christmas music, and giant department stores and lots of people. Gift wrapped presents under giant shiny trees, nice store people giving out candy, people lined up for photos with Santa. It was as if we were in a movie. Oh it was just so great to clamor from window to window, never knowing what the next one would look like, but being amazed by each one all the same and pointing out our favorite parts. I don't remember letting go of Gram's hand but I'm sure we gave her a start with the four of us wandering off in separate directions all the time.

That night we got ready in the hotel room for the ballet. We might have ordered room service, I may have made that up. We got to wear pretty dresses, at this point I think we all believed we were princesses and our carriage was waiting to take us to the ball.
The Nutcracker ballet was amazing. I think. I might have fallen asleep at some point, it had been a very long day and as all girls know playing princess can be very tiring. I remember not really understanding the story so much, I mean there were mice, and mouse kings, and did they eat the gingerbread men? And I thought nutcrackers cracked nuts, what do they have to do with sugarplums and giant men dressed as creepy wolves, but the music was pretty and the ballerinas were lovely.
After the ballet Gram probably scooped us all up and poured us into bed... it was like that scene out of 'Annie' when she goes to the movies and Daddy Warbucks tucks her into bed after a magical evening. And this time every year when I see an ad for The Nutcracker or hear the music there's a part of me that gets transported back to the ballet and the pretty dresses and the time our Grams took us to the big city and ballet. After all, Christmas time is a time for nostalgia, family, and memories. And bright sparkly lights :)

What you need to know

My wrapping is not a reflection on how I feel about you. I love you very much, it just doesn't come across in the way I wrap presents. Each year, every Christmas, every birthday I think I've reached a new low in my abilities until the next time I'm surrounded by discarded and unusable wrapping paper. My sister Ashley loves wrapping presents, she loves the bows and ribbons of it all, she does such a good job all the time, it must drive her nuts how badly I do it. I don't even bother with bows and when people make the pretty ribbon go all curly I stand slack jawed in awe. I usually start off nicely, but then I get bored real quick and the nog needs to be tended to. I put a lot of thought into the present itself, not a heck of a lot into the wrapping.

 Here's how it goes with the first present
 1) Neatly cut paper.
2) Measure precisely.
3) Carefully tuck and fold ends flat.
4) Never use more than 5 strips of tape. Stand in awe of your beautiful work.

Next present

1) Cut paper. Doesn't matter if parts tear or if it's even, those bits get hidden anyways right?
2)  Basically smoosh all the end paper bits down in to a ball. Use both hands.
3) straddle present between legs.
4) hold scissors in mouth.
5) use both hands to get a strip of tape long enough to wrap around both ends.
6) Spit out scissors.
Stand in awe at the horror you have created.
Repeat until wrapping is done or you run out of paper, or can't find the scissors cause you wrapped em by accident.
That's how it's done. And remember, I love you.

My attempt at a food blog I guess??

I like cooking. I don't know if I love it- no okay I do, I love cooking. There. I said it.
I love cooking, I really love baking, and I really extra love eating the food that I have made. I haven't yet had a cooking disaster happen to me luckily. I assume if I am cooking for myself and it doesn't work out I'd just order pizza. And if I was cooking for others and it didn't work out we'd order pizza! And if the people I'm cooking for aren't okay with that then I'm not okay with them and they can go hunt and gather for themselves.
The great thing about cooking is that you feel like you are doing something good for yourself. Even if it's a seven cheese macaroni, at least you made it, and you had a hand in what was put in. I'm generally pretty lenient with recipes as well, most of the time I don't use them. I just buy ingredients I think would go well together and I put em in a pot. This summer I had a pretty great little garden turnout so I made a roasted carrot and brie soup with the carrots I'd grown, and it was okay, not great or mind blowing but OK.  I am a huge fan of pasta so the tomatoes I'd grown were roasted in this dish I sort of kind of made up and also stole/borrowed parts of from step mom Diane (thanks!) Here goes:
Roast cherry tomatoes, garlic, red peppers.
Caramelize onions, add some sun dried tomatoes, and artichoke hearts, maybe mushrooms if you feel like it?
Sprinkle of chili flakes
Boil water, add any kind of pasta you like till it's done how you like it.
Mix that all in the pot (do I need to tell you to drain the pasta water? Please tell me I don't ) Toss everything together
Grab a plate, pile it with pasta, dump/sprinkle some Parmesan on it and you're done! Don't forget the wine.

Sleeping in is not an option.



click on picture for life size replica of the Snooze Button 3000

Introducing the Snooze Button 3000! So life like, because it is!!! No more annoying battery operated alarm clocks/radios!!!!

The Brody Line of the Snooze Button 3000 quietly lets you know when it's time to get up. And when I mean quietly, I mean repeatedly. And when I say get up, I mean he's ready to be fed.
The Snooze Button 3000 will first awake you by knocking important shit off your nightstand. This could include your glasses, your iPhone, and even a full glass of water!! Simply push the SB3000 away and dip back into a semi- slumber for approximately 9 minutes. After that time, you'll feel the SB3000 give you a gentle, yet jolting tap,tap,tap against your right nostril. Certain SB's come with a extended sharp claw that has the possibility of piercing your nose. This may result in eye watering. If you so desire to sleep a little longer, firmly shove the 3000 off the bed and unintelligibly mumble. Doggedly pursue another 8 minutes of sleep.

Other features of the Son of a Bitch 3000 include more persistent levels of the face-paw, along with  stepping on your eyeball, knocking more shit off shelves, playing a loud, solitary game of plug hockey in the bathtub, stepping on your full bladder in juuusssttt the right spot, as well as aggressive meowing, cold wet nose kisses against your eyelids, scratching of furniture/ your bare arms and general cat a-holeness.

The Snooze Button 3000!!! You'll never be late for work again!

*don't forget to feed the cat on the way out. Otherwise you may not be let back in.

Dear diary, or The perils of journaling.

I was aware of them. I knew they were there. Every time I walked by my closet I'd cast a wayward eye towards the box. Like a boogie man hiding in there, a boogie man who knew all my dirty little secrets.

My journals. Back in the day of the teenager I kept journals/diaries/memory keepers whatever you call them religiously. Every day I would write down very important things that happened that particular day.

Things that clearly needed to be written down, to be preserved in a diary for all of time.
 Things such as:
-sometime in 1998: Saw Aidan. We're so perfect for each other obviously. But I just don't know.(30 yr old me thinks "who the hell is Aidan??")
-Met Shannon for coffee at Second Cup. Sat in hand chairs. It was raining. (Also, not written, but I know I had a latte.)
-Had too many blueberry teas Keg size at Brandy's Drunk as fuck. Ashley and I picked up more booze. Man were we wasted. Stopped in at Moe Joe's and we didn't have to pay for anything. Puked all day today. (all very messy writing)

Speaking of messy writing, holy crap, I clearly was not about to win any penmanship awards. All the way through reading these I'm squinting and holding paper up to the light to see if I can get a better look at the words that I wrote that were oh so important back then. Does that say "been or bees? Or even bins? If it's bees, what happened, why'd I need to write about them? Was I stung by one and some hot guy saved me??? A lot of entries are about a boy passing through the course of my day and something insignificant happened and I was clearly compelled to write about it. Some I still think about to this day without having to read the books: From New Years 1998: Ran into Phil- he grabbed my hand through the crowd and kissed it and then gave me a huge hug. Best thing ever. (I stand by this statement)
Other things were less so:  From 2002: Shane came in to the cafe today. He bought a turkey sandwich.
Seriously. I felt like I needed to write down every detail. I was so obsessed with memories. Which is why I have 12 journals spanning over a decade interspersed with pictures of Leonardo Dicaprio, Brad Pitt, Ilia Kulik(figure skater) Tobey Maguire (totally still relevant)  Johnny Depp and oh ya, more DiCaprio pictures.
Some entries are darker than others, some trail off midway through, most of the books aren't completed as I'd have been given a new one for birthday/Christmas/Tuesday that I would start. Some have some incredibly deep thoughts and poems that make me wonder how a 16 yr old can have a thought that deep and profound and whether or not that still happens or if people just use Twitter as their journals, except instead of taping a picture of Leo they just tweet Bieber directly. Is Facebook the new diary? Yes I think so, in some ways. Some of my journals are interspersed with grocery lists, future names of kids lists, days worked, CDs owned, needs/wants lists. Some are just: 2am. BESTTIMEEVEROMGICANTBELIEVETHATHAPPENED.
Omg. what happened??? says 2011 me. Who was I with? Is there photographic evidence of this occurrence???? Which leads to a thorough digging out of old photo albums and attempting to find said night. Luckily flipping through an album is much more enjoyable and hilarious which is why I got distracted writing this blog. Because for the number of journals I have, I pretty much have a matching set of albums.Which is kind of  awesome. It's not as bad as the next generation will be with the plethora of digital photos and the facebookyness of it all but my photos are pretty great. It makes me glad I have the journals, and the photos to remind me of people and stories I've forgotten, people that aren't here anymore, people I'm still in touch with but need to make more of an effort with, and stories that were important to the younger version of Dawn and who she was. It certainly puts things in perspective. Me tripping in front of some dude in 2002 would convinced me the world might as well end. 9 years later I have a more 'keep calm and carry on' attitude and a better sense of humor. If I tripped now I'd want a video of it so I could laugh at myself.
Because let's be honest. That would be pretty funny.