The world of Pern

I was first introduced to the world of Pern when I was a young girl. I read Dragonflight for the first time at the age of 12 and was immediately and irrecovably in love. I used to dream of having a dragon of my very own and frequently named my pets after characters in the stories, (I once had a salamander named Ruth- however things got complicated because my beloved grandmother's name was also Ruth and she was quite put out by sharing her name with a slimy critter... I also didn't have the heart to tell her that, in the book, Ruth is a BOY dragon!).

The world of Pern was created by the late Anne McCaffrey, who sadly left us in November of 2011. The entire world is based on a group of human colonists from earth and how their culture develops as they settle their new home. Everything seems perfect with their new home until they discover the menacing Thread which is an organism that falls from the sky and eats everything biological in its path! Genetisists create the dragons out of a smaller life form that exists in the natural ecosystem of Pern, and these are used to combat the Thread. The story begins hundreds of years later when all technology is lost and only stories remain of the original landing of the settlers.

I recently began re-reading the series in anticipation of a movie that is scheduled to go into production sometime this year. You can read more about the movie here, but so far I'm very excited. Some small part of me knows that the world of Pern on the big screen could never be as wonderous as in my imagination, but I can't help feeling like a little kid at Christmas to see my childhood fantasies come to life.

If you are not a science fiction / fantasy geek like me, I encourage you to read them anyway. If for no other reason than to appreciate the enourmous talent and descriptive literatary genious that was Anne McCaffrey. The world is a darker place without her, but she will live on in our imaginations.

P.S. ----> Anne, if you can hear this - please let Santa know that I still would very much like a dragon for Christmas, a Queen if he can manage it, but I'm not picky.

Love Jewels

Greener Pastures

I'm 28 years old. I'm an adult. I have my own house, a car, and furniture I can jump on whenever I want. I have a grown-up job, bills, and financial responsibilities. And I'm homesick.

I miss my family. I miss my mom. I miss sitting on a tailgate with a beer and chit-chatting because I had absolutely nothing better to do. What's better than beer? I miss bonfires. You can't have those in the city. At least not the kind that I'm used too. Once we made one taller than the house. I miss burnt marshmallows. Sure, I could go camping like other city people do, but believe me - it's just not the same.

I miss having roots. I've been here for what feels like an eternity, and I have no roots. If I moved tomorrow I would not miss this place. Some of the people maybe, but I have yet to become attached to the way of life. I feel disconnected in a way I never thought possible.

Hubby does not understand my love for where I grew up. He thinks it's very quaint, like when you see a photo you like in a magazine and say, "huh, that's nice". He has similar home attachments to Welland, where he grew up. I love it there also, but it is not home. They say home is where the heart is... trust me, I have tried to relocate the feeling, but my heart is stubborn like everything else in me. I believe that comes from the Youmans side of the family.

Someone said to me a while back, "Good for you for getting out of there!" I looked at them strangely and said, "if I could go back tomorrow I would". Who wouldn't? Quiet, beautiful, lakes and rivers to swim in... ever wonder why everyone moves to cottage country to retire? Why they spend their entire lives saving to move to paradise and then show up North of 7? Because when you live HERE... THERE is the other side of the fence. You know, the greener side.

I'm in a major transition point in my life. On the edge of getting almost everything I've ever wanted. Isn't it funny that just at the time when I'm going to reach all of my goals in life I question it? I must be crazy. This is proof that you always want what you can't have, no matter how much you have to be grateful for. And I AM grateful. Grateful and homesick. I'm going to find a tailgate and a beer. Wanna play caps?

Cheers.

Out of my imagination

It started when I was 4. It was Easter. I have no idea why I remember that it was Easter, only that it was. That's when my re-occurring nightmare began. It always starts the same way. I'm walking down the stairs to the kitchen in my nightgown (presumably because it is morning). My mother is at the kitchen sink doing dishes. She hears me, and turns around, starting to smile. Then when her eyes fill with the vision of me standing at the bottom of the stairs - her look changes. It changes from her pleasant, good-morning-happy-to-see-you-face, and turns into her OH-MY-GOD-SOMETHING-IS-TERRIBLY-WRONG face. Not something a 4-year-old wants to see. The butterfly's are fluttering madly in my stomach now, and I timidly ask,

"What's wrong mummy?"

"OH MY GOD" she says, "you have OLD FASHION PURPLE NAILS!" Then she screams this long diva-like scream, which would make any cheesy horror flick proud.

I look down at my hands and they are sprouting these ridiculously long, purple fingernails which curl around themselves in a spiral like fashion. My heart feels as though it will burst in my chest.

I have no idea why this is so incredibly scary. It has some variations which are slightly less scary to live through. One version involves me trying to play the game Perfection with my terrifically terrifying talons. When I say it out loud it seems not so scary at all. Interestingly enough, the dream repeated itself a few times a month for years. If I was a shrink, I'd say I had mummy and daddy separation issues, but I'm not so I'm going to chalk it all up to an over-reactive imagination and too much sugar in my grape Kool-Aid.

If you google purple nails you will discover it is a symptom of blood clots or liver disease. Maybe I'm psychic and it was a prediction of things to come. Or maybe I just have an over-reactive imagination. What kind of 4-year-old dreams up OLD FASHIONED PURPLE NAILS anyway?

Dear Mom:

Today is your birthday. You are 50! I can hardly believe it. I know you are self-conscious and think you're getting old, but I think you're a magnificent, beautiful, and strong woman.

I am so grateful that you are my mother. I remember visiting friends as a child and was confused about why they didn't want to spend every second of the day with their mothers. They would go to extensive lengths to avoid them, and had none of the closeness that we have shared through-out the years. Looking back, I think they were envious of me, because I had the most amazing mother anyone could ever ask for! I know they all thought you were "cool", but that wasn't why they all loved you so. They would watch us and the love and affection that we so easily shared and wish for a piece of that for themselves. Most of my childhood friends ask about you every time I see them, not to be polite, but because they are genuinely concerned and care about your welfare.

For the last few years you have been struggling with an illness that I don't understand. It makes you tired, weak, and unable to do the things that give you joy. I know you feel isolated from the rest of the world. I wish I could take this burden off of your shoulders and make you smile again. I can only imagine the amount of pain you must be feeling, especially when you admit to it because you were never someone who complained to others about your hardships.

You are, undoubtedly, the hardest worker I have ever met. You never did anything half-way, but attacked every task with determination. We never lived in a mansion on the hill, but what we had was clean and well taken care of. You took pride in a clean house, and it showed. Frequently, when someone compliments me on a job well done, I tell them I owe it all to you. Because of you, I know the value of hard work and the pride I can take in what I accomplish.

When we were small, you did whatever you had to do to make sure we had what we needed, as well as your love and support. I know sometimes you have doubts about your parenting, as I'm sure every parent does, but you were always there when we needed it most. Whether it was to laugh with us, hug us when we were sad, or give us "tough love" to point us in the right direction. You gave us all the tools that we would ever need to grow up and be successful adults as well as shaping us into the people we've become. Not only did we learn right from wrong, but also compassion, strength, confidence, love, and trust.

I was not the easiest teenager to live with, I know that now. You always said, "you'll understand when you grow up,"and I do. Through all the mistakes I made, and some of them were pretty big mistakes, you supported me and helped me through all of it. You always threatened to lock me in a closet till I was thirty, but you let me go my own way and live my own life even though sometimes it was against your better judgement. Despite all the freedom I had to become my own person, people still say I turned out like you. Nothing could make me prouder.

So today, I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you more then you could ever know. I will carry all you've taught me, and the love you've shown me all the days of my life.

Thank-you for being my mother,

Love Julie

To Joke, Or Not To Joke.

I make jokes at the most inappropriate times possible. I think it's because as a small child, I learned that laughter is a great tension reliever... especially when your parents are fighting, or your mother is depressed, or your brother is behaving badly to get attention. Unfortunately, this is a behavioural trait that has carried on into my adult life. Believe it or not, there IS a time to laugh and a time to cry... however, the majority of the time I choose to laugh and almost everyone I know disapproves.

Inevitably, as soon as there is tension in the air, my not-so-funny bone kicks in, my mouth opens, and words come out. In normal circumstances, these words would be hilarious... but not so much at my grandmothers funeral, or at work in the middle of a crisis, or on layoff day when I said... "Look on the bright side... now you'll have more time for origami and knitting!" Insensitive right? I mean.. most of those people were worried about how they were going to feed their children, and here I was making jokes.

I wanted to get up and say something at my grandmothers funeral... but I couldn't. I was afraid. I was afraid I would open my mouth and out would come some smart-assed comment which would be delivered with good intentions... but would sound like I was up there doing stand-up instead of talking about my feelings and what a special lady my grandmother really was. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Some people like to look on the bright side of life... I like to look on the funny side. I can make a joke out of pretty much anything, and usually they are at my own expense. I try not to hurt others, but sometimes the inappropriateness of my timing is horrifying. Those who know me well will stomp on my foot, or kick my shin to let me know when I am behaving badly.

Once at a wedding with co-workers, I made a comment about one of the ladies lovely hair cuts. She was a co-worker that I hadn't seen in quite sometime. I remember shouting something to the effect of: "Why'd you cut off all of you lovely hair... I mean, you're hair cut is really wonderful, but you had the nicest long wavy hair I'd ever seen!" Doesn't sound bad at all right? As soon as I said it the entire table went silent. It was at that precise moment that I remembered that that particular co-worker had been off for quite sometime do to cancer treatment, chemo, and radiation. She hadn't cut off her lovely hair at all... it had fallen out. I wanted to die. But that wonderful women just looked at me, smiled, and said: "Sometimes your hair falls out from chemo, mine did, so I got a wig! Isn't it pretty?" At this point, I was wishing God would strike me down with a lightning bolt. There she was trying to ease MY humiliation when she could have gotten angry, (and rightly so), and tore a strip off of me. So then, I did what any self-respecting, humiliated person would do. I got very, very drunk and focused all my energy on making her laugh for the rest of the evening. She passed away a few months later, but I often think about her and her quiet, forgiving demeanor. She was probably the most patient soul I have ever met, and one of the sweetest women to walk the face of the earth.

I try to think before I speak... but it doesn't always happen. I still put my foot in my mouth far too often, but not nearly as much as I used to. I think the times when I can use my humor to cheer people up far out-weighs the times when I accidentally hurt others. I was thinking of making a t-shirt that says "CAUTION: I TALK BEFORE I THINK" But I thought that the only person who would find that funny would be me.

Cordova Mines

I grew up in a small hamlet in South-Eastern Ontario, called Cordova Mines. It currently supports a population of approximately 100 people, quietly nestled in the pines. When I was small, it was the ultimate place to grow up. We fished, we hiked, we climbed enormous rock shelves, and played cowboys and Indians among the hay bales. When we first moved there from the city of Hamilton, we lived in a old, lumbering duplex on the edge of town. Behind the house, the old mining property began. Cordova used to have a gold mine you see. We would wander back there and play miner. Many of the old buildings, train tracks, and enormous piles of ore are left like worn souvenirs of the past. We would scoop up pieces of shiny iron pyrite and gloat about how rich we were going to be when we found the gold that the miners left behind. There are still open shafts that were never filled in on the site. Looking back, I'm surprised my mother let us play there as I'm sure she was quite nervous about us slipping to our doom. It was a great place for adventure!

My great-uncle used to own the original Cordova General Store. After he sold it, the owners converted it into a home for them and their 8 children.

I used to play with their kids and I remember much of the old stock was still there for years. Old dress patterns, yarn, and other supplies. A house next door to the original was converted into a general store after the sale, but has since been closed. A brand new log-home store was built a few years ago and now serves the remaining population.

In years gone by it was a booming town with post-office, bakery, butcher, and craftsmen. Now mostly deserted and overgrown it's hard to believe it was ever such a bustling place. Two churches still stand, and the local fire hall, but it is a shell of it's former glory. Forgotten in time like many other mining communities in the same area. The spirit and pride of the town is still going strong though. The residents come together to help one another in times of need, times of sorrow, and times of celebration.

Every time I go back, I am surrounded by friends and family in a town where everybody knows your name. It is a simple life, but a good life.

photo General Store borrowed from http://www.ghosttownpix.com/ontario/towns/cordova.html

Thanks to David for the inspiration! http://david-mcmahon.blogspot.com/2009/05/doorway-to-gold-rush.html

Confessions of a cereal junkie

I have a confession. I am 27 years old, and I'm addicted to fruit loops cereal.

I know this is wrong... fruit loops is for children right? I mean... there are cartoons on the box, and a free star wars action figure inside... I hope it's Yoda... anyway, it's pure sugary nonsense.

I don't discriminate, I'm addicted to most sugary nonsense cereals. My other favourites are Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Golden Grahams, and Captain Crunch. I also dearly love Honey Combs, and Reese Peanut Butter cereal.

If I had my choice, I would eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Other than the fact that there is no nutritional value, other than the milk (although, it IS made with whole grains...), and I'm afraid I'd die of scurvy, I probably would eat it for three meals a day.

Sometimes I am afraid that I will never grow up and will hold on to pieces of my childhood forever, but who could resist the fruity goodness, and wholesome crunch of Fruit Loops? Not this junkie, that's for sure!