Observations.
It is not without irony that on all the news coverage of tonight's goings on, the abbreviation for the Conservative Party of Canada was 'con'.

I don't know who first said it, but I've always loved the saying "The great thing about democracy is that the people get exactly what's coming to them."

In short, the people seem to have spoken. Now if I mention that the 'people' speaking are the same people who have made Survivor, Canadian Idol, and Nickelback so successful, you would probably lable me as an elitist boor. You would not be so far from the truth.

Plato had an idea 2500 years ago about rule by "Philosopher Kings"...basically children from the best and brightest families, raised from birth to be the perfect rulers. Even he could see 2500 years ago during rule by democracy in it's purest form, that the system is fundamentally flawed.

How well can "rule by the people" really work, when the people, for the most part, don't know s@*t?

Hell, some of us elitist boors see low voter turnout as a good thing...if you can't be bothered to take the effort to educate yourself properly on the issues, and the candidate's stands, then what right do you have to be choosing the leadership of the country?

Of course I say all this with tongue planted firmly in cheek. I have to admit I got quite a thrill when I arrived at my poling station and saw a younger (ok, my age-ish) guy helping a very very elderly man out of his car, and into the polling station...at the same time a young family with a 4-5 year old and a baby in the stroller were coming out. It was all so...right and proper, that old and young, singles and families, generations working together, everybody was getting out to make their mark in choosing the next government of this glorious country.

Of course I'm assuming they were all doing the right thing and voting NDP. :)
Enjoy the next few years. After all, you asked for it.

A Somewhat sad post...
So it looks like Chima (that cat, not the lawyer) is quite ill. She was getting real thin all of a sudden, and then last night she was trying to eat, and ended up clawing at her mouth so badly she cut it open. We had to trim her claws and feed her milk that night from an eyedropper.

So she went to the Vet today, and got a lovely X-Ray, and it turns out there's something in her lung, which is probably pushing up against a nerve that runs to her eye, and irritating her mouth, and keeping her from eating properly.

At this point it's either Pneumonia...or Cancer. The big C.

Years ago you may recall that Toast got quite ill. He suddenly emptied his stomach on the new carpet in our Condo in Renfrew (in Calgary), and then didn't eat, drink, or really move for three days. It was one of those wierd situations you get into with Vets.

First it's blood work...ka-ching.
Then it's an IV drip...ka-ching.
Then it's a hospital stay...ka-ching, ka-ching.
Then it's...an ultrasound guided biopsy of his liver. KA-CHING.
Damn Cat, you owe me big time.

But in the end, all he really needed was a couple of days in Kitty hospital with an IV full of antibiotics. As this happened at the beginning of December, some of your may recall our lean Christmas that year.

With Chima though, it's different. It's basically either Pneumonia or Cancer. If it's Pneumonia, then antibiotics will treat it. If it's Cancer, then there is no way I am putting my fuzzy little cheese-cat through the hell of chemotherapy. It would however cost $500 to get a biopsy of her lung, and then maybe know what the problem was.

In short, we are just going to take our chances. We are putting her on antibiotics, and hoping against hope that she hasn't already used up 8 of her 9 lives. Because if it is cancer, we will not be treating it anyway.

It makes me think though. If I am having these kind of "Weighing the dollars with the quality of life with the treatment options" kind of questions with a 9 year old Cat...how would I feel if I was back in the U.S., and Isaac suddenly fell terribly ill.

The thought just leaves me cold. Over 45% of Americans have no health insurance. What happens then...do they go to a walk in clinic, get some antibiotics and..."hope against hope?"

I don't think I have any answers at this point, just a hell of a lot of questions about how society prioritizes itself when Paris Hilton has to get a "back-up day-ring" because the stone on her engagement ring is too heavy for her hand, but 45% of the people in the world's most powerful and prosperous nation may one day be faced with the kind of choice for their kids that I am now agonizing over about my Cat.

This stuff keeps me up at night.
Sorry for the Sermon.
Boy I'm going to miss her.

Baby Update.
As requested, here are all things Baby.
1. Alphabet Soup.
The other day, he was bored with watching Noelle cook, so she gave him a pot and a spoon, and put in on the floor for him to play with. Normally at this point a kid would bang said pot with the spoon. Not Isaac. He tried to stir the pot, but there was nothing in it. So Noelle took one of the magnetic letters from off the fridge, and put it in the pot. He thought this was a great idea, and added the rest, stirring between each batch. Presto, baby alphabet soup.
Then he started going to the fridge, pretending to take things out, and going back to the pot and making the same flicking motion over the pot that Noelle does when adding a spice. We clearly have a future chef on our hands.
2. Kibble Soup.
But this wasn't enough, so later that day, Noelle was reading on the couch (ironically, a cookbook), and her "mommy sense" (MUCH more powerful than spidey-sense) started tingling...it was awfully quiet in the kitchen.
"Isaac, come here." was met with a little boy and a very bemused expression on his face.
"What have you done?" Now at this point Isaac has a choice. If he keeps his mouth shut, and doesn't confess, he may be able to dispose of the evidence later, but the problem is that the evidence is in his mouth, and it is distinctly unpleasant. So he comes clean, and out of said mouth come three or four very soggy cat food kibbles. Noelle investigates further and finds that Chef Isaac has dumped handfulls of kibbles into the cat water, and the wet wooden spoon is testament to his kibble-soup-making-prowess.
3. Books.
I originally thought that Isaac would never get to the stage where he wanted to hear just one book, over and over again. I was clearly mistaken. Right now it is "Spot goes to the farm", and it's only redeeming feature is that it is a library book, and will be going back shortly. Isaac aquired a fair number of books for Christmas, but for some reason Spot and the damned farm are all he wants to know about. Mom is on strike, and flatly refuses to read it again, so it has to wait until Dad is home. Dad is thinking about his own labour disruption, but perhaps the easiest solution would just be a short trip to the library.

Allen Update.
It's almost certainly official (how's that for equivocation?), we will be moving to Hamilton.
Here's some FAQ's.
Why Hamilton?
I'm working there now, and the commute back and forth is killing me. It's a great job, I am thoroughly enjoying myself and don't see myself moving any time soon. It now takes me an hour to get there, and an hour and a half to get home. Just in time to put Isaac into the bath, and read him a story. So that's no good.
What will happen to Noelle's Job?
Nothing. She can run a press from anywhere, and commercial rent is way cheaper in Hamilton than it is in downtown T.O. She will own the press at some point this year, and in the meantime she will go into Toronto by GO train twice a week, which is way easier than me going into Hamilton 5 days a week like I am now.
Isn't Hamilton yucky?
Contrary to popular beleif, there are nice parts. Specifically those around McMaster University, which is consistenly rated one of the best undergrad U's in the country by Maclean's. It also has a top notch medical school, so hopefully there will be some good brain doctors there for me as well, considering the Tourette's clinic in Toronto is all but closed down, and my GP and I are muddling through best we can.
No, really, I've heard it's quite yucky.
Say what you want, but there are some lovely green areas right around where we plan to be living, including the Royal Botanical Gardens, and a lovely area with a waterfall. Plus we would be half an hour from the best orchards, wineries, and maple sugar areas in Ontario. Plus, nobody in Hamilton EVER shoots strangers on Boxing Day. At least not yet.


So that's the scoop. What Van Morrison called our "gypsy souls" will be making the fairly short trip (it's only about an hour from where we are now) down the QEW in April or so. Barring anything wierd. And nothing wierd ever happens to us, right?