Canada Moms Blog

The Canadian women's Olympic hockey players "scandal"

Let it first be known that I am Mormon and as such don't drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or cigars. I don't personally identify with celebration by way of boozing and smoking.

Despite my bias, I think the offense that's being taken over a few players on the Canadian women's hockey team drinking and smoking on the Olympic ice after hours is an overreaction.

The story appears to be dying out in the media, but Facebook friends and acquaintances are still reactionary. One Facebook friend used the words "disgusted" and "stupid".

I'd like to make some quick points:

Manners issue: Do people just stop by your house, without phoning first?

I have this friend whose life is such that there's a very narrow window of time when we get a chance to chat on the phone or visit.  Quite frequently we have had plans to talk or visit and people have just stopped by her place unannounced.  People would even stop by her house and come upstairs to suddenly appear in her bedroom.

I had no idea until today that I think this is weird.  Well, the bedroom thing is completely bizarre, and that's the only sensible opinion to have about that, period.  I mean the other stuff.  Until today I had no opinion whatsoever about whether or not it's awesome, or rude, or kind of weird, or what, to just show up unannounced at someone's house and expect to be entertained.

I would need to be very close friends with someone to feel like I could just stop by unannounced whenever I want.  Or if they were people who said, "Stop by any time. Really, you don't need to call first."  I think that kind of open-door policy is welcoming and lovely, when people choose it for their home but I've rarely heard anyone communicate this sort of sentiment.  If I was stopping by with no intentions of coming in and I was say, bringing cookies, that would be different.  I would feel comfortable visiting anyone unannounced to bestow cookies upon them.  But I even knew someone who would get very annoyed if I did that.

Falling upon the sexiness of frigid Canada

A sudden blizzard had turned our bare roads and blessed browny-green grass into 4 inches of fluff and it was still coming down hard.  In a rush to get to the post office, I drove with a small mountain of snow on the hood of my Standard Mom Vehicle to the full-serve Co-op gas station where the nice ladies, somewhat bewildered at my snow-besotted state, voluntarily swept me clean.  I sat upon my heated seat, giving them a thumbs up and a smile. 

I was happy, despite this attack upon my September soul because a package was wedged in the passenger seat beside me, a package assembled with love and destined for Spain, and I thought about how my expat Spanish friend has probably never had the pleasure of driving in a Canadian blizzard.  Sure, she's visited castles and ancient Roman ruins.  So the Spanish beaches are only an hour's drive away and on a whim she can decide to spend part of her day snapping photos of terribly old Gothic cathedrals.  But has she had to stop her van every ten minutes to manually brush the snow from her side windows so she can back up safely?   Has she experienced the rush of adrenaline that comes from not knowing whether the van will stop in time to not hit that oncoming car that has the right of way, as the van struggles to brake on the packed snow, despite its slow pace well in advance of the stop sign ahead?

Gardisil pointless and dangerous? Merck researcher shares shocking info.

The Population Research Institute* is reporting on some shocking statements made by Dr. Diane Harper,  the leading international developer of the HPV vaccine, at the 4th Annual Public Conference on Vaccination on Gardisil the vaccine touted to prevent cervical cancer from HPV infections.

Here are some statistics that this Merck representative reportedly shared at this conference, taken directly from the Population Research Institute's article:

• 70% of HPV infections resolve themselves without treatment in one year.
• After two years, this rate climbs to 90%.
• Of the remaining 10% of HPV infections, only half coincide with the development of cervical cancer.
• 4 out of 5 women with cervical cancer are in developing countries (i.e. not the United States or Canada)
• 8 in 100,000 women will get cervical cancer.
• 1.3-3.7 will die from it.
• The cancer rate has been declining by 4% every year, since between 1955 to 1992 when the rate declined 74%, without any influence from a vaccine. [Link to American Cancer Society]
• There will be no decrease in cervical cancer until 70% of the population is vaccinated.
• The highest amount of decrease in cervical cancer will not be seen for 60 years.
• After 60 years, the highest predicted decrease will be 70%.
• No efficacy trials have been done on girls under 15.
• Merck did study a group of girls under 16 who had been vaccinated, but did not follow them long enough to conclude sufficient presence of effective HPV antibodies.
• If a child is vaccinated, she will not keep immunity until puberty and will need boosters.
• 15,037 girls have officially reported adverse side effects from Gardasil to the Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System (VAERS).
• Adverse effects include Guilliane Barre, lupus, seizures, paralysis, blood clots, brain inflammation and many others.
• The CDC acknowledges that there have been 44 reported deaths.
• Dr. Harper  told ABC News that "The rate of serious adverse events is greater than the incidence rate of cervical cancer."

I really don't want to die on the toilet

I peruse the headlines on CBC.ca, looking for stories that spark a reaction within me so I have something to write for Canada Moms Blog. And usually my thought is, "Man, Canada is so freakin' boring."

This morning my thought was, "How would I want to die?"

There are stories right now about murder, murder-suicide, car accidents, ATV accident, a beheading, and I realized... I'm not putting these on my Favourite Ways to Die list.  Does no one die from a nice restful sleep anymore?

Just in case God is taking notes... just in case he says to people who complain about the way they died, "Well, you didn't put in a special order. How was I to know you didn't want to die on the toilet?" (well, God would never say that because he's omniscient)... just in case, here is how I don't want to die and then how I wouldn't mind dying if I had to die, like if I did not live to see the Second Coming and then get transfigured in the twinkling of an eye or something.

How I don't particularly want to die:

• tied to a stake and then lit on fire
• drowning anywhere but particularly in the bathtub
• suffocating, including being buried alive
• being strangled
• dehydrating, especially in the middle of the desert
• starving, particularly in a concentration camp
• in a plane crash-- I don't need the suspense
• ghost or demon killing
• food poisoning (ouch)
• cancer (double ouch)
• being slowly dismembered
• a parasite eating me from the inside out
• flesh-eating disease
• lightening strike or any electrocution
• skydiving (would look so careless)
• on the toilet

I'm sure there are more ways in which I don't want to die but those are the major ones.

Canada vs. Facebook

I'm thrilled to read that the Office of the Privacy Commissioner of Canada is pressing Facebook to fix their stupid privacy policy. Have you ever noticed that when you allow an app, say Scrabble or Word Twist, that it lets you know that you're giving the app developer access to your information... all your information, including photos? This factoid is why I install few apps. It creeps me out. Why do the makers of Bowling Buddies need to know my email address or, worse, my blog address? Why do they need access to photos of my kids? And that private boudoir photo album that I uploaded for ONE professional photographer friend to see... did all these app developers see that, too?

I comfort myself by telling myself I'm one of millions of users. Isn't that how we comfort ourselves about most bad stuff? Ah, what are the chances my kids will get into a car accident, the one time they're not in a booster seat? What are the chances lightening will strike me? What are the chances my sexy photos will find their way onto the internet?

The chances are small but the principle is big. 

Summer: The Dope-Smoking, Half-Naked, Laze-About

Let's pretend that my disdain for summer has nothing to do with traumatic childhood memories; children home all day, unstructured; the dog shedding a smaller dog; and swim suits.

Let's just talk about the weather:  It's hot. I don't like to be hot. Why do people like to be hot? There's a reason why our core body temperatures are not a default 42ºC. I'm not a doctor or anything but I think it has something to do with... organ failure?

I shouldn't be whining because this has been the coolest July I can remember in 29 years. But today was a bit too warm. It was threatening to become hot and I just won't stand for that kind of behaviour. If you want me to be productive with cooking and smiling and moving my person through space, I need a cool breeze on a warm day. Today wasn't that. 

Every day I tentatively fall out of bed, looking over my shoulder, wondering if it's going to get hot and muggy.  The plan is to become as immobile and depressed as possible, should Mr. Hot and Muggy drop by. Mr. Hot and Muggy should not be confused with Mr. Hawt and Huggy. Mr. H&M is all sweaty and slimy, and he spends all day in his parents' basement smoking dope, because school is out.

Fighting the disease of entitlement-- just let me keep my iMac

Most children struggle with learning gratitude and applying it to their lives but one of my children struggles more than most. She's working on it, though. She's recently started prefacing her admissions of coveting with such reassurances as, "I'm not asking for this, Mom...." or "I know we can't go there but I'm just saying...." Although, this might just be a sophisticated effort at manipulation. Reverse psychology and all that. Hmmm....

Kidding aside, I'm actually very concerned about the entitlement that kids and teens everyone seems to have "these days". I don't believe this is a new phenomenon but I do think that it's become worse with a greater emphasis on design and material gain on television shows (like Oprah, Martha, and Extreme Home Makeover), and with more such magazines in print than ever before in history.

No cat-dogs, no green toilet flower arrangements, and no celebrities on Twitter.

You know how Quebec reserves the right to stop you from naming your kid something really stupid/cruel, like Lucifer, Spatula, or a French word that means "whore"?

Well, recently Gwyneth Paltrow, getting into the spirit of dictatorship, is considering a rule that all members of her $4500-sign-up-fee gym need to adhere to a dress code so that her gym will be a pleasurable visual experience as well as a pleasurable(?) physical experience. [Source was offline, couldn't find online source.]

Personally, I think this makes perfect sense.

While American Libertarians would choke to death on indignation over this, I believe in even greater suppression of free will for the betterment of... well, my life. Why stop at baby names?  A name is relatively harmless, proved by Stephen Dubner and Steven Levitt in Freakonomics. Also, it certainly doesn't affect me much if your name is Spatula. Why stop at dress codes? Dress codes should be the starting point.

What bugs me are people who gesture for me to turn left at a four-way stop, when they are making the same turn, only as a right-hand turn. I want to scream out, "Guess what? We'll both start going at the same time and you'll STILL beat me around the corner and then NEITHER of us has to wait or play the go-no-you-go-no-YOU-go game."  I believe there should be a $1000 fine for this.  POLITENESS CAN GO TOO FAR. 

Mr. Frankl brings enlightenment to April winter

A beautiful, sunny Easter weekend became a winter hellscape yesterday morning.  I wasn't surprised. My birthday is Sunday, April 19, and in 28 years past I can only remember one or two birthdays that weren't winterized.  My lack of surprise does not intone approval or acceptance, however.  Like any Canadian who illogically hopes for Florida weather while living on the edge of the frozen tundra-- like any Canadian who experiences each Spring like a revelation that stirs her soul to repentance and Oprah-like edification--  my 6:30 a.m. response was, "Find someone who has a whole bottle of sleeping pills I can borrow, quick. Or a gun. A gun would be faster." I didn't say it, but I thought it.

To experience inches of snow after days of 20 degree weather is to re-experience the horror of getting your first period ten days after your tenth birthday. It's waiting all week to watch some brain-deadening, soap opera-ish Grey's Anatomy on Thursday night only to be smacked in the face with a re-run. 

We act all heroic when we don't shut down the town on a regional day of mourning such as this but it can't be safe; suicidal thoughts are the only normal reaction when Hope rests indefinitely in a coma and I don't feel comfortable having my children transported to school by a bus driver who's identifying with Sylvia Plath.