True Blue, Baby I Love You

Whenever I'm out and about in Winnipeg I can't help but notice all the vehicles sporting the new Blue Bomber licence plate. The team has given us a fair bit of heartbreak over the years, but this city still bleeds blue. I love that the team has chosen to dust off the old logo and jerseys--still my favourite look, probably because it was what the team wore when I was being introduced to the game.

And the Jets are back. I remember them leaving and not really understanding the big deal of it all. I'd only ever seen a couple of games from up in the nosebleeds courtesy of some free tickets that got donated to school patrols.

But oh how this city has pined for the return of that team. They told us for years that it would never happen, that the Winnipeg market was just too small to support a team anymore. I'll admit I shook my head at the ones who clung to hope. It was a long wait, but all the stars lined up, and now after a 15 year absence our beloved team will play for us again. You want to talk about patience and believing in a dream? Ask a Winnipeg Jets fan. Or an Ikea fan, 'cause we're getting one of those next year too.

Winnipeggers are notorious for being quiet about their civic pride. I know I don't chirp about the place. (Funny, I have the radio on right now and they're replaying a spoof PSA to Jets players about the wonders of Winnipeg. Most restaurants per capita in North America!) Modesty is an honourable trait.

Around the city now I feel a definite change in energy. I imagine if Canada was to have a reunion of sorts with all of the capital cities, Winnipeg would show up and people would drop their beer. Little Winnipeg, who used to be so shy and awkward, has finally grown into herself. She's looking hot.

I never really felt that Winnipeg was part of my identity. My home is here. My work is here. My family is here, but I can still be me anywhere else. I wouldn't lose part of myself if I left. But I identify with this city's recent blossoming and the step up into the now. It fills me with energy and determination. If Winnipeg can reach for her dreams, endure the bumps and challenges along the way and come out shining in the prairie sun, so can I.

Livin' the America Dream

Hello all, I am in America again.

On Thursday I was all pumped up for my extra long weekend. Even better, I was so busy that afternoon that I'd forgotten to take a lunch break so I was going to leave early for a change. Then I got a phone call from my dad.

"We've got a problem," he said. "The motor home just died. We aren't even out of the city. Don't think we'll be able to go away this weekend."

And just like that my dream long weekend that I'd been waiting for all year was gone in a puff of engine backfire smoke. I had been researching flights to Toronto for a possible business trip all morning and actually went back to see if there was something affordable to get me out there for the weekend to see Vince.

But a couple of hours later my dad phoned back to say they were on the road again and were limping along to the border. Woohoo! A Forth of July miracle! God bless America and one girl's pursuit of a spectacular fireworks show (and Independence Day Weekend sales).

I got home early, finished packing and hit the road, music up and windows down all the way. Hello summer heat, hello wind in my freshly cut hair, hello bug guts on the windshield.

I got to the border and proudly handed over my brand new passport. (Thank you Doug, the photo turned out lovely and I got it to Passport Canada just in time!)

"Where's home?" the mustached border guard asked.

"Winnipeg."

I gave him my destination and my reason for travel--shopping and camping. I waited for him to ask me how long I planned to be in America or when the last time I was there or if I had any food on board but he went in a different direction with the questions.

"Camping by yourself?" I've had this question before, actually. Don't know what's wrong with a girl in a pick up truck going camping solo, but sure, I suppose in a day I'm maybe only the fifth one to make such a claim.

"I'm meeting my parents down there," I said.

"When did your parents go down?"

"This afternoon," I replied. This time I was certain the next words would be "have a good trip", but no, the next question was one I had not ever heard before.

"Why didn't you go down with them?"

Maybe it was the plus 30 degree heat, maybe it was the fact that I was only an hour away from my destination, or because I had not had anything to eat since my desktop lunch, but I had to bite my tongue. It's because you're so pretty, Jillian, and that lovely new passport photo doesn't help your cause. He can't believe a pretty, 29 year old girl would be driving a shiny pick up truck solo to meet her parents for a weekend of camping. You silly blonde thing, trying to pull the wool over the eyes of this poor ol' US Customs officer. Clearly you have stolen this vehicle and are making a run for the California coast to become an actress or something.

I released my tongue from the grips of my front molars and replied, "because I had to work."

More suspicious questions followed, he did a walk around Truck and even opened the tailgate before handing back my passport and waving me on. Level two complete. On to the destination!

I arrived at the state park to find the gates closed. This was not entirely a surprise. The State of Minnesota is in some kind of budgetary crisis. The governor wants to raise taxes and some people are opposed to that. Go figure. So he said okay then, I hereby shut down all state parks and even the Zoo, starting on the Canada Day/Independence Day long weekend. How do you like them apples?

Still, my mom was able to make reservations at the park, so we figured vigilantes would be there keeping it open and running.  I pulled out my phone and was going to text my parents to see how they managed to get into the campground but instead saw that I had missed five messages from their cell phone.

"Made it across the border but motor home stalled. Waiting for tow."

"Getting a tow."

"Are you on the road yet?"

"Towed to Lithia Ford on 32nd, east of the mall. Meet us there."

"Call me. I will pay for the phone bill when you get it."

I pulled into the parking lot of Lithia Ford and found my parents and the dog, looking happy and relaxed in their lawn chairs.

The problem with the motor home would later be chalked up simply to the strains of the heat. The good people at the dealership had no problem with letting us park on their lot for the weekend since we did not have access to the state park. We have a place to plug in (so as to power the air conditioning) and free wi-fi from the service centre center (this is America, yo'.) While at the park we would have been looking at grass, a firepit and large, old trees, here we have a view of the Fast Lube garage and the Happy Harry's Bottle Shop at the other end of the lot.  Walmart is a mere five minute walk and open 24 hours.



The only true downside of this all is that poor Truck, of Chevy pedigree, is parked amongst a sea of shiny Fords. Truck is holding his own though and even tolerated his first ever tailgate party: beer and hotdogs with the Ford service and sales guys who drop in to say hello. They are all kind  and friendly folk so Truck and I make the best of it. I have promised him a special car wash before the weekend is done.

Purchases this weekend include a heap load of unmentionables, a very cute and colourful dress and a clearance special: skirt and short sleeved sweater for under 10 bucks.  No shoes yet. Might not happen.

I picked up a book at Target called One Day by David Nicholls. I had gone into the book section looking for a different book but picked up this one and took a chance on it. So glad I did. I am loving it. I'd forgotten what it felt like to actually enjoy a book. I haven't read something so delicious in so long. I pack it in my purse and pull it out whenever I have a chance. I'm sure it's love. I will be so sad when the last page has been turned and the romance is over.

Pretty, please, with sprinkles on top

First day of Summer 2011. It was a mostly cloudy day but the temperature was okay. I promised myself an ice cream cone. There was no line up. Had everyone forgotten what day it was?

I took my chocolate and sprinkle dipped cone outside and sat alone in the middle of the patio, facing Portage Avenue. I gnawed at the chocolate shell. Rainbow flecks of sugar hit the grey cement tabletop. I was making a mess but leaving the world a brighter place. That's the magic of ice cream.

Me Free Reiki

At work they have something called The Rainbow Room where staff can go and receive 20 minute, therapeutic treatments such as massage, hot stone massage, reiki and reflexology and more for free. I know, I work in a cool place. On a whim yesterday my coworker and I decided to check the place out, which was good because it happened to be the last day it was going to be open before shutting down for the summer.

The service being featured at the moment we arrived was reiki. Neither one of us had ever had a reiki session before. As the check in supervisor explained to us, it's a touch therapy whereby the practitioner lays her hands on you and "heals" you simply through her touch and the power of the energy she is pulling from the Universe. The touch is supposed to help unblock any trapped energy flows. (They don't call the place The Rainbow Room for nothin'.)

I looked over at the beds situated by open windows and separated by cool green curtains. That alone looked soul soothing.

I was instructed to lay down on the bed, face up. When my reiki therapist arrived she introduced herself and asked me if there were any trouble spots I'd like her to focus on. I wasn't feeling any aches or pains that day, but had been feeling generally anxious, so I asked her if there was anything she could do for that.

"Yes, many people carry their emotions in their stomachs," she said and explained that she would place her hands on my abdominals for that. I closed my eyes and waited for the experience to begin.

She started at my head. She covered my eyes, then my ears, and ended at the top of my head. At this point I did notice that it felt like someone was undoing a zipper from the crown of my head to the bridge of my nose. I wasn't sure if it was just the breeze blowing strands of my hair, but I was willing to believe that my chakras were opening up.

Most of the rest of the touch-therapy didn't seem to have much of a release, but I was feeling very relaxed. For the final touch point she moved to my feet. I don't know what feet have to do with anything emotional or anxiety related, but something there seemed to have an effect. For me it felt like a really deep, powerful meditation session. My whole body felt electrified. That must've been where my blocked chi was pooling!

Call it bunk, but afterward at least I did feel lighter and refreshed, like I'd just taken a good nap. Maybe I should go there before my next encounter with a needle.



Reiki Energy-What is it? How does it heal?

Gotta Wonder about that Woman

I got up early this morning because I wanted to be first in line at the lab for my blood work. As I pulled on my jeans I thought to myself, hmm, these are the same ones I was wearing the last time I passed out. I followed this thought with a shrug and went on to pick out my shoes. I was conscious that I had picked out wedge heels, not flats (the jeans are too long for flats) which could be risky in the event of a faint, but, feeling adventurous, I put them on anyway. They're red and always make me think of Wonder Woman, my favourite superhero. I channel her power through my feet.

I knew today that I was going to be facing another needle in my arm. This time, the needle would be in there longer as the lab tech would be taking numerous tubes of blood. I was nervous, but also told myself that I would be fine as this time the needle wasn't going to be a surprise and I could talk myself out of any anxiety.

When I arrived at the clinic I phoned my parents.

"Hi," I said. "I'm going in to get blood work done. In case anything happens, I'm at 123 Scurfield". My dad laughed and took note of the address. I went in, took a number and a seat. I flipped through a Men's Health magazine, reading about custom-made bikes and good-for-you carbs.

My number was called and I went in to the small room. I had considered telling the person that the last time I had a needle in my arm I passed out, but the guy wasn't very friendly and I was convinced I was invincible in my Wonder Woman shoes, so I said nothing and sat down.

The lab tech tied my left arm off with a rubber band. I looked away while he stuck the needle in. I heard a click and sensed each time he changed the tube out.

"Are you almost done?" I asked.

"Yeah, why, are you feeling faint?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

I breathed deeply and did my best to focus. The clinic had the radio piped in and Chad Kroeger was singing Hero.

I am so high. I can hear heaven

I am so high. I can hear heaven
Oh but heaven, no heaven don't hear me

That's the last thing I remember before waking up, on the floor. Again, confused out of my mind because I didn't recognize the guy asking me if I was okay. I mentally asked myself my name and where I was. I felt confident in my answers. This time, knowing better how to save myself, I layed right down and waited for the light-headedness to pass. I lifted my legs to help with the blood flow back to my head and heart. A guy walked up and asked the lab tech something about when his turn would be. I knew what I looked like--just a girl who can't take a little sight or loss of blood. The tech asked me if I'd like to go lay down on a bed. I said no.

I slowly sat up, then proceeded to low crouch, then fully upright. The lab tech handed me a bottle to go pee in. Perhaps he hadn't noticed that I'd already released most of my bladder on the floor, but I took the cup anyway, stepped over my puddle, walked out into the hall and then into the toilet to see what I could do for a sample.


"It happened again," I said to my mom on the phone from the privacy of the washroom.

"Oh no, really? Do you want us to come pick you up?"

"Yeah, and bring a towel," I said.

I had brought my pink zip up so I tied it around my waist and thought about that Always Maxi Pads commercial from the 90s where the girl lamented that she had to "leave the party with my sweater tied around my waist" because she had made the wrong choice in feminine protection. I'm seriously considering Depend undergarments for my flu shot appointment next winter. Is this what approaching 30 is all about? Going to the doctor on Thursday. Tests to follow. Yay.

***

Before today's episode I was thinking of blogging about work. I got to go to the legislature on Thursday night to support a bill that would officially recognize awareness week for my new pet cause. My department's medical director The Doc, gave a speech that I helped him with. It went very well and The Doc had good feedback from the ministers. I don't know what else to say about that except that it makes my heart sing.