* not with ink

There is nothing funnier and more heartwarming than listening to grown adults of all shapes and sizes and styles read their childhood or adolescent words. And there is nothing more terrifying than deciding to take part yourself. Dan Misener has been hosting Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids  events across the country since 2007. The podcast ran for a season on CBC last summer, and new podcast episodes are coming soon! One of them features yours truly... ** It was a total whim, signing up to read my awful adolescent poetry. And of course, when the day arrived, the event was sold out, and NONE of my friends had purchased tickets, I was NOT feeling very excited to bare my teenage soul to an audience of strangers. Thanks, Karen, for being my cheering squad & photographer! Thankfully, Twitter provided a ticket for the lovely K-Ho, and I met her in a dark space that slowly filled to capacity... As I listened to other readers, I was both reassured and further terri...

1. Pick a good travel buddy. 2. Do not forget your directions. 3. Pack your passports. 4. Bring snacks that are homemade and healthy, like hummus and veggies and fresh fruit. 5. An iPod is essential, or CDs if your car is old-school. 6. Car-aoke will happen. People should see you driving and wonder why they are not having as much fun as you are. 7. When in Sarnia, eat at Cosmo's Tavern.  8. If you can, stop at your Grandma's. sunset in Sarnia 9. Do not be fooled. Even attractive border guards will ask repetitive questions that leave you wondering about their IQ. 10. The border is not a magical bridge to a foreign and exotic world, but the asphalt is bumpier in the States, and the military does like to recruit via billboard. 11. There should be silly conversations, there should be seriousness, and sometimes there should be silence. 12. There are roughly 4 litres to a gallon, and $30 is the cost of half a tank of gas for a Chevy Cruze. 13. The destinat...

I’m anxiously anticipating the loss of a toenail, and it is making me nostalgic. A year and a half ago (where does that time go), Kirsten and I spent three weeks walking across northern Spain . Most of you know this. Most of you also know that Kirsten was plagued by foot troubles. Intense blisters that doubled the size of her pinky toe, a strange and inexplicably fiery rash, and then a blister UNDERNEATH her toenail. I was sympathetic. Deeply sympathetic; in contrast, I merely broke/sprained one toe , in a non-hiking accident one rainy evening. Taped to its neighbouring toe and with solid shoe support, I wasn’t so badly off. We persevered, of course. Kirsten’s endless will and pain tolerance amazed me, we laughed often , we cried (only a little), and we ate a lot of lemon yogurt. A few weeks after we returned home, she told me that her toenail was gone. It was sad and gross to hear. I had seen her feet at their worst, but I was relieved not to see a nail-less toe. It is a weird...

Last Thursday, I walked to work wondering what I would do all weekend, as my two favourite Toronto peeps were out of town... by the end of the day, I had dinner plans for Sunday, an ultimate tournament on Saturday, and a houseguest/stranger arriving Friday evening. It was a full, eventful, and very fun weekend. I have a place to stay if/when I visit Australia, an ultimate team for the rest of the year, and what I would call a budding-friendship with the sister of a teacher from my old high school. As in, her sister was a teacher when I was a student. And not a young teacher. And it feels hardly-strange to be her friend. This morning, a week later, I am counting down the hours (2) until I am off work. Then I am going to pick up a car, go to an appointment, run an errand, and drive away. Due north, to cottage country, where I will read, take photos, wander in the woods, and maybe even jump in a lake. I probably won't speak to anyone for 48 hours. I can't wait.

I have been home from Spain for one month. Where did it go? I don't know. But since I'm still thinking about Spain, I'm still blogging about Spain. One of my favourite parts of the trip (as everyone has been asking) is how much laughter there was. The days were not always easy, and things did not always happen perfectly. But we laughed. Oh, we laughed. Mostly, I laughed at K's incredibly fast wit. Here is a list of some of the funniest things she said during the trip. It all started with this one, on the plane: Flight attendant: (speaking with a French accent) We're going to dime the lights shortly... K: We're going to dime these things til they're nickeled! After that, I kept a detailed log. These are in chronological order, and as out-of-context as my quote entries usually are. The great thing, though, is that in my head I can picture the context for each one and it has me giggling all over again. I just touched my tongue to my arm...

You are probably all dying to know what I listened to while trekking through Spain. Well, I didn't actually listen to my iPod while walking. Not even once! It wasn't intentional (until the last three days), but I'm glad it panned out that way. Walking time was for thinking or talking or counting steps in my head. Sometimes I found myself humming songs in time to our rhythmic steps... Most frequently, Pachelbel's Canon or Come Thou Fount. (It is so easy to fall in step. I like that feeling of being perfectly paced together.)  On trains, during the occasional nap, and to block out the sounds of a shared room at night, I had a playlist of favourites, and listened to a lot of Hey Rosetta! Their song "Bandages" is now linked to this adventure for the rest of my life (dramatic, much!?). In the last week of walking, I returned to Foxy Shazam - last summer's surprise discovery. Perfectly upbeat and gritty and good for my ears and my heart. This ...

Since I woke up at 6:30am and have a computer and the internet right in my very own home (it is good to be here), I started editing some photos from the trip and now I'm sharing them with you...  Sacre Coeur Basilica in Paris  Ready to Roll (Walk) in Bilbao  The Bruised and Broken(?) Toe   Beach Day! (an accidentally amazing background capture...)   Sunrise (made 6am wake-up worth it)

One morning last October, six weeks into my nannying job, I checked my email on the way to work. I was still bleary-eyed and sleepy, but I don't think that accounts for the tears that jumped from my eyes when I read an email from my friend Kirsten, asking if I might be interested in doing a pilgrimage with her next summer, in Spain. I sent an instant, "YES!" response. For some reason, it just felt right. And then I spent my entire work-day day-dreaming about what I would pack. I haven't doubted that gut response once since then, although my to-pack list has certainly been fine-tuned. Now it is July 30th, and we are getting on a plane bound for Paris, before beginning our trek across the northern coast of Spain. I don't fully know what to expect, but I know it will be good , when all is said and done. My head and my heart are ready for this experience that will be unlike anything I've ever done. If there is internet along the way, you will hear from ...

Where did this dream come from? I have wanted to travel to the Africa/Middle East/India arc of the world for nearly a decade. The six weeks I spent in northern Africa during the summer of 2009 fed this, and kindled a desire for in-depth interactions with women in Muslim regions of the world. The more I talk with friends who have spent significant time in developing nations, the more I want to go. And the more I'm convinced that I could learn much from the people there. If you have read my blog much over the past year, you will know that the idea of Hope - what it is, where we find it, why we need it - is often on my mind. And over the last year and a half, I have been embracing the idea of taking risks, not just passing time, but LIVING my life. So all these things have been simmering. And then a series of moments brought it all together. Moment #1 For the first time ever, I go to a concert on my own. When I leave, I instinctively turn to the friend next to me so we can discuss th...

And you are invited. There are three parts to the dream and four ways you can be involved. Curious? Good. Because I don't think I can back out at this point, and I am going to be talking about this A LOT in the coming months. It will take a few posts to flesh it all out, but here is the skeleton plan: 1. Travel & volunteer in Africa/The Middle East/India (tentatively May to August 2012). 2. Make a documentary film that looks at life and where hope lives in the developing world. Also, how we North Americans are changed by our cross-culture encounters and experiences. 3. Do this whole thing as a community. This is not about me going off on an adventure, coming back and having three-sentence conversations about my time away. I want to be a part of a team from start to finish. What does that look like? How does something like this become a community endeavor? I am asking for EVERYONE I KNOW to consider being involved by answering one (or more) of the foll...

I have been promising big news this month. It is coming in the next post. Probably Monday. (drumroll please) Teaser: You are invited on an epic adventure.