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New Sponsor!

2.27.2010 | Comments Off on New Sponsor!

 

GREAT NEWS! My fabulous friend Laura of Better Still Day Spa has generously offered to sponsor me for this trip!

Better Still Day Spa is so cool. Really, it is. It’s a home-based business that provides high-end service in a relaxing, serene environment. Tinky-tonky spa music included!

(I am not just saying this, but Laura gives the BEST massages).

Laura and I will be working together to come up with some great promotions and fund-raising ideas in the near future. In the meantime, I will post her link to the right for when you feel you may just need to pamper yourself or someone special. The fireside pedi would be a very, very good choice!

Better Still Day Spa
(604) 946-5500
www.betterstilldayspa.com

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Writer’s Block – A Very Personal Post

2.26.2010 | Comments Off on Writer’s Block – A Very Personal Post

 

I am finding that although I want to write something, I can’t seem to find the words. Maybe it’s because Andrew Koenig’s body was found in Stanley Park yesterday. He had taken his own life. I did not know Andrew, and do not know his family or friends. But somehow, his suicide has affected me. I think I need to write about that a bit, if that’s ok with you all. (Mom, dad… you can skip this one if you like).

Depression is a terrible, terrible disease. Yes, it is a disease. Unfortunately, one of the worst parts of depression is the fact that such a stigma is attached to it. For people with depression, people like me, we struggle not only with the disease, but with having to face people who think we are somehow “weak” because our brains take over our thoughts sometimes and don’t let go.

Yes, there is medication. But like most medication, it doesn’t SOLVE the problem – it just helps us to cope. Even when you take some NyQuil or Tylenol, you don’t feel 100%, something is still amiss within you, right? It’s the same with antidepressant drugs. For the most part you can get along very well each day, but you know that somewhere inside you, a darkness waits. It shows up when it wants to, it goes when it wants to, and it leaves a horrible echo.

Yes, we know there is “help”. There are many people to speak with, many numbers to call. Have I ever called the Crisis Line? Yes I have. In fact, it’s programmed into my phone under “Help”. It did help on the two occasions that I called. I was very grateful.

But here’s the thing (and please know that I don’t speak for everyone who has depression, obviously)… the pills, the help, the support… none of it matters when you get to a place where you don’t even recognize your own face in the mirror. When you’re so low, so down, so dark and grey that opening your eyes, or lifting your head is an exhausting task that you can’t even bother to attempt. Depression can strike me down at any time. I can start a day really well, and then I may start to feel it creeping up. Nothing triggers it. No event. It just arrives.

It is never welcome. It shows up, and I try to fight it off, but it’s kind of like… like… trying to punch a fog out of a room. I can’t fight it off. It is impossible. What makes it worse, is that this is when people think that I am the “weakest”. That hurts me so much. I do not want to be depressed. It is not ‘attention-seeking behaviour’. Don’t you think that if I had the ability to “just smile!” or not “think about it“, or “cheer up!”, that I would gladly take those opportunities?

Am I suicidal when I’m depressed? It doesn’t work that way. I just feel… heavy. Yes, heavy, I think that’s the word I want. I don’t want to do anything, see anyone, participate in life. I don’t take care of myself because at that time, I don’t care about myself. For me, it’s a lot of self loathing. These are the dangerous times. These are times when I sometimes think, “what’s the point of even taking the medication?”… but I still take it because I fight very hard to keep myself present enough to know that I have to.

Depression hurts me very, very much, and it is something that, every so often, takes over in my body and in my brain, and makes every single minute an excruciatingly difficult task to complete. It truly is like a heavy, choking, fog that wraps itself around me. It’s all-enveloping, and I’ll be honest, it’s really, really scary.

It is a personal journey that I am forced to take against my will. And I will take it for the rest of my life.

I’m thinking that climbing Mount Kilimanjaro will be the easier journey.

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Dear Cara – DO NOT READ THIS.

2.25.2010 | 1 Comment

 

So the other night I was feeling a little sin-snacky, and decided that the best course of action for me to take would be find the worst (best!) snack that I could find, in order to satisfy my
logic-defying craving. It was late at night, so I was hoping that a little trip into Ladner to purchase a very bad idea would go undetected.

And so, as I’m rooting around in the ice cream case at Johnny’s store (where, incidentally, they sell THE best flowers), trying to decide between the Haagen Dazs Chocolate Almond bar and the Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia bar, I hear a voice behind me say

“Heeeey, those aren’t Power Bars!”

I turn, and look into the face of a handsome gentleman who has totally caught me snarfing a fat-fest after reading my blog about taste-testing protein bars for my climb up Kilimanjaro.

Awkwaaaaaaaaaard!

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WKF?! (2)

2.24.2010 | Comments Off on WKF?! (2)

 

Weird Kili Facts

-The ice cap at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro is about 200 feet thick!

-Kili is also known as Ngaje Nga, meaning “House of God”

-In 1952 the movie The Snows of Kilimanjaro was made – based on the Ernest Hemingway short story of the same name. However, the only thing Hemingway liked about the movie was “Ava Gardner, (and) the Hyena”.

-Kilimanjaro supports five major eco-zones: rainforest, heath, moorland, alpine desert and glaciers.

-The bronze plaque at the summit of Kili reads: We, the people of Tanganyika, would like to light a candle and put it on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, which would shine beyond our borders, giving hope where there was despair, love where there was hate, and dignity where before there was only humiliation.

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Procrasti… ahh, I’ll think of a title later…

2.23.2010 | Comments Off on Procrasti… ahh, I’ll think of a title later…

 

March.

March is when it’ll all begin.

In March, I’ll get back on track with yoga! In March, Ali and I will get back to hiking every weekend! In March, I will let my liver recover and will stop drinking beer! In March, I will aggressively start my fund-raising campaign! In March, I will go out and buy all the gear I need to start camping! In March, I will start camping!

March. Yes. That’s it. March.

...there is a very good possibility that I may just copy and paste this post again in three and a half weeks.

APRIL! April is when it’ll all begin…

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Darwin’s Power Bar

2.22.2010 | 1 Comment


Oh yes, one more time: The Protein Bar Taste Test! (insert ominous, yet enjoyable music here)

Brand: Power Bar Recovery
Flavour: Peanut Butter Caramel Crisp
Tag Line: “Rebuilds muscles”
First Ingredient: Chocolatey coating (sugar, fractionated palm kernel oil, cocoa, whey powder, skim milk powder, soy lecithin, vanilla flavour)

Oh man, do I really have to eat this? I haven’t even taken the wrapper off and I’m already grossed out. I remember Power Bars from many years ago; they were thin little bricks of tooth-shattering blah. I really hope they’ve changed things. I have terrible memories of trying to chew and swallow bite-sized pieces of these flavoured rock lumps. No matter how much water I drank, I couldn’t ever seem to move that lump down my gullet in a timely manner. In fact, I may still have Power Bar stuck in my throat from 12 years ago.

Aw, man! Seriously?! “Chocolatey” isn’t even a word and it’s their first ingredient! That’s it, I’m taking marks off simply for irrational spelling! Oh, Power Bar, why do you hate me so?

I may as well just get it over with…

*unwraps Power Bar Recovery*

Oh Power Bar! My, how you’ve changed! This is even better than the Isoflex bar! In fact, you’re giving Clif a serious run for the money, my friend. You know all those mean, nasty things I said about you, Power Bar? Well, I totally don’t take them back, because really you did used to be quite horrid. However, it seems as though you have new Darwin-esque employees on your staff, and so have adapted your bar to better suit the environment. You’ve become edible, little bar! Awwww…. *sniff* that’s so beautiful. You’ve worked so hard, and it really has paid off. I’m so proud of you, little guy!

*lightly punches Power Bar in the shoulder*

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Clicheh?

2.21.2010 | Comments Off on Clicheh?

Last night I went downtown with a couple of friends to bask in the craziness that is Olympic Fever. Being the patriotic Canadian that I am, I decided that I needed to ‘show my colours’, and so ventured into that most patriotic of establishments, Canadian Tire, and went about searching for a flag to wave. However, being the lazy patriotic Canadian that I am, I found that carrying a flag and waving it occasionally may prove to be just too darn taxing.

Wait! What’s this I see? Some GENIUS has created the ultimate answer to my dilemma! SCORE!

And so, I walked out of Canadian Tire with a BIG Canadian flag WITH SLEEVES. Dude! How awesome! You just put your arms through, and voila! you have Flying Squirrel-esque Flag technology right on your back. Oh, Canada. Is there anything you can’t do?

So as we walked (and walked, and walked…) around the city, weaving among the hordes, inquiring as to line wait-times, we noticed something peculiar: we walked in people-crowded streets for hours on end, and I only had my foot stepped on once. Anytime someone bumped into me, there was “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” exchanged. Lots of smiles, lots of politeness… I think Canadianism is catching! We’re infecting the world! *sniff*… it makes me so proud.

We went to Saskatchewan House for dinner (those perogies are AWESOME. Seriously.), and there was a live band playing. When the singer asked the audience if they had any requests, a number of people shouted out “Oh Canada!!”. And so, as I watched two RCMP officers in their serge uniforms get mobbed by camera-happy tourists, and saw cheek-tattooed Canadians assist the hard working waitresses in picking up garbage, there was a guitar wailing out the National Anthem, accompanied by a raucous chorus of happy (Molsonified) Canucks.

And so after we finished our beers, we donned hockey gloves, had our photo taken with a plastic fish, and made our way up to Robson Street. Along the way I decided that I needed to remember some of the overheard snippets of conversation to put in today’s blog entry. Unfortunately I only remember two (that French guy walking into a tree was so distracting that I kind of lost my train of thought)… but they’re pretty good:

“YOU SOLD ME A FAULTY WIG!”

“…she’s over there, getting her picture taken with the yeti”

Ahhhhh, Canada.

However, for me, the best part of the night was when I saw a young man wearing a reflective vest, picking up garbage on the street. (I guess he works for Vanoc or something, I don’t know). Anyway, as he went along Robson St, I watched as people stopped him and thanked him for “helping out”, for “keeping our city beautiful”, and for his “hard work”. I have never seen a person smile so much while picking up garbage.

I love this city. I love this country. I’m a proud Canadian and a dedicated “Syrup-Sucking Icehole”.

WELCOME WORLD!

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Dog Heaven’s Eagles.

2.20.2010 | Comments Off on Dog Heaven’s Eagles.

This morning I was hoping to walk the dogs at the Delta Watershed, but unfortunately my hip had other plans. “Level ground, please!” it said. I listened.

I went instead to the Super Secret Special Awesome park, known as the aptly named “Dog Heaven” to the astute of us. I won’t tell you where it is, so don’t even ask! Well… I’ll tell you if you make a donation, how about that?

And what did Dog Heaven reward me with this time? Well, by the time I got out of the car and let the dogs out of their crates (safety first, people!) I had counted nine bald eagles. After walking into the park, I counted ten more. It was incredible. Not only were they sitting in the trees scoping out the buffet fields below, they were flying in the crisp air, chasing each other through the tangles of branches, dipping down and soaring up in a game that I can only ever dream of playing.

They flew so close overhead that I could see their eyes scanning us, disappointed perhaps that Jenn and Lu’ were not shivering teacup poodles but heavy, lithe Border Collies.

At one point I saw an eagle bring a piece of… something gross… to a branch high in a tree, and before he could even start breakfast, two more eagles landed on the same branch and made wholehearted attempts to steal the treasure. There was a loud *crack*, as the weight of the three incredibly beautiful birds of prey snapped the branch from the tree, sending all three spiraling off for a millisecond before catching themselves and soaring gracefully to another tree.

And after my walk through the sunshine of the cold morning, as I headed back to the car, in the distance I could make out another tree across the street from Dog Heaven that was all but laden down with the black forms of nearly two dozen eagles, like some surreal Christmas Tree, decorated by Edgar Allen Poe.

And so, with the dogs safely tucked in their crates, I drove us home to continue the day that started so uniquely. We live in a beautiful place, and mornings like this serve to remind me not to take it for granted. Home is where my heart is, that’s for sure.

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Disaster Magnet, Intrepid Explorer.

2.19.2010 | 1 Comment

I do not travel well. Really, I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love to get out into the craziness of the world and experience new things, but whenever I do something inevitably goes horribly awry.

Like the time I spent a week on the beautiful island of Virgin Gorda after the airline had lost my luggage. Well, when I say “lost” I actually mean “sitting behind the counter in the San Juan airport, the victim of “It’s Not My Job”. Not that one needs a lot of luggage to chill out on a Caribbean island, but a bikini is always nice. And some sunscreen. Since the friend who I was staying with was a size zero, (I don’t care what anyone says, ZERO is NOT a size!), I had to break down and buy a bikini on the island. For $250.

Or how about the time when I went to Paris, and my travel partner took ill and went into the hospital. I must say, wandering around Pigalle by oneself while worried about the health of someone you care about can really put a new spin on a vacation. No worries though, I hopped a bus to Rotterdam. Unfortunately, they showed the movie “Air Bud” on the bus trip. And I cried like a baby through the entire movie, trying desperately to hide my face and sob into my shoulder.

Then there was the “I’ll-Sleep-In-The-Lobby” sized argument that I had with a friend in Mexico City.

And the 3-day leg rash and edema in Amsterdam.

And, of course, the “Your-Credit-Card-Has-Been-Compromised-So-We-Cancelled-It” fiasco that happened when I still had three days left in Greece.

And finally, the “Screaming-Toddler-On-The-Flight-Home” ordeal. Seriously, that kid wailed for almost SEVEN STRAIGHT HOURS. I’ve never seen anything like it. The day after I got home I went to Bose and bought those fabulous Noise-Canceling headphones. HALLELUJAH!

At the time, all of these things were devastating, humiliating and/or mondo-sob inducing. But when I look back now, I can laugh at these situations. I know that something horrendous will happen when I am in Tanzania, and that scares the crap out of me. I’m just hoping it doesn’t involve spiders. Or mugging. Or mugging spiders.

However, no matter what happens, I also know that I’ll be able to laugh about it as time passes. But I’ll admit it: I’m really scared right now…

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WKF?!

2.18.2010 | Comments Off on WKF?!

Weird Kilimanjaro Facts – Lesson One

-Kaiser Wilhelm was given Mount Kilimanjaro as a birthday present from Queen Victoria (which is why it is part of Tanzania and not Kenya, as Tanzania was a German territory)

-Mount Kilimanjaro’s name means: “Mountain of Cold Devils

-Mt. Kilimanjaro is the only permanent snowcap within sight of the equator

-Although mostly living in North and South America, porcupines have been seen on Mt. Kilimanjaro (at about 11,000ft)

-First summit (in Oct 1889) by: German Geology professor Hans Meyer, Marangu Army Scout Yoanas Kinyala Lauwo and Austrian mountaineer Ludwig Purtscheller

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Countdown

2.17.2010 | Comments Off on Countdown

186 days until I stand at the bottom of Mount Kilimanjaro, look up, and wonder what on earth made me think that this was a good idea.

186 days.

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