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For the first time in all my years, I’ve begun to realize what Christmas shouldn’t be about. As a child, it’s fun to indulge in the Santa Claus tale, but for whatever reason, that tradition has kept on rolling in my family.

The thought struck me the other day that if it’s Jesus’ birthday we’re celebrating, why do I still get a truckload of gifts at this time of year? It makes zero sense to me as someone who celebrates Christmas based on its true origin, and I’m really not doing much of anything to honour that. However, sometimes it’s too little, too late, but I am dead-set on making huge changes next Christmas and throughout the coming year in this regard.

Photo: jenny downing (r&r) on Flickr

I think that the best gift we can give our families and our friends at this time of year, with or without money, is not presents but presence. There is nothing more I am looking forward to than being with my family, laughing joyfully with them, eating food that’s been lovingly prepared, putting good mileage on my stretchy pants, drinking wine, resting my body, resting my mind and making memories. I’m sure I’ll manage to squeeze some SNES in there too.

To all of you, my friends and readers, I want to wish you the very best that this season has to offer you – no matter what or why you’re celebrating. Be there with and for the people you love and the people you have yet to love. Bring it all back to the place it should be about.

Every girl should have a brother. If not to protect her when she’s older, then definitely to terrorize her when she’s younger.

Sweet and nearly angelic as a toddler, Trevor and I were extremely close right from the start. I wasn’t even the kind of sister that made him play dress-up. Usually it was just building blanket-and-pillow forts under the dining table, creating mud pies, swinging on monkey bars and trying to out-do each other at constructing the most stellar of Lego houses.

My brother was the ultimate “shit disturber” as he got older, as so affectionately called by my Oma. I’m sure she said it in German, so he was none-the-wiser.

I’m quite sure his pinched-cheek smile was incredibly calculated to off-set all the ways in which he delighted in causing my temper tantrums. Though can you blame me? When he wasn’t drawing, um… poo, with a jiffy marker on my ceramic piggy bank, he was sneaking into my bedroom and slapping stickers on the faces of all my pin-ups. (I do apologize for that, Patrick Swayze… and Joey MacIntyre, Bono, Simon LeBon and all your friends.)

And sometimes people grow up. While a few years ago if I thought I’d ever have any kind of relationship with Teenage Mutant Ninja Trevor someday, I’d have said no. Never did I imagine he’d become one of my best friends.

Today he is every bit the man I’d always hoped he’d become. Always brother and son, but now also husband and father. That’s still a bit of a trip to think about.

While time has passed and much has changed in both our lives, some things will always remain: such as his undying love for Venkman, Spengler, Stantz and Zeddmore, the way he still eats his Honey Nut Cheerios out of a casserole dish and his uncanny knack for busting out fart jokes at the most inappropriate of times.

It’s amazing to me to consider that today he celebrates his 25th birthday. While I wish more than anything I could be with him to chow down on DQ ice cream cake and beer, I’m instead thinking about all the more milestones and memories to come between brother and sister. I couldn’t be more proud of him.

Today is a very special day.

My lovable, sweet-as-pie, kind-as-candy and darling friend Ashley is celebrating her birthday.

Friends for nearly a decade, there aren’t a lot of adventures we haven’t been on. We’ve ridden roller coasters, drank wine stashed in thermoses in the park, soaked in the Banff hot springs in matching bikinis, eaten most likely litres of Island Farms ice cream, talked under the stars, clung to each other during horror films and consumed our combined weight in Cupcakes. Ashley has even been a motherly hand to hold at the dentist’s office when I got an abscess on vacation.

What I love most about my “sister” – besides our uncanny knack to dress alike without even planning on it – is her unconditional love. No matter how different our viewpoints or opinions or thoughts are, she’s always there to love and respect me. Ashley is one of the few people I can be my true self with because she does not judge.

When girls get together on a Saturday night over fruit-infused cocktails, the conversation always finds its way to men and dating. It’s an inevitability. And so was the situation that Andrea and I found ourselves in this past weekend. However, more specifically, it was online dating that was the topic du nuit.

No one ever wrote the rules of etiquette around it. How much are you supposed to reveal about yourself? What’s a reasonable level of expectation? If someone messages you that you’re not interested in, do you tell them so or just ignore the e-mail altogether? And what’s worse is those that send messages after clearly not having read your profile (such as a 22-year-old sending an e-mail when it’s clearly stated that you want someone over 30).

Photo: Andrew Coulter Enright on Flickr

Recently I signed up for one of the many online dating services. I posted a few pics of my flashing grin in my profile, some witty quips about my personality and a small list of likes, dislikes and what I’d ultimately like to find in a potential partner. And so, a few e-mails started trickling in, but instead of deciding whether or not I was potentially interested in these men, I found myself questioning if I even wanted any potential partner.

The thought of being “tied in” to a relationship is enough to induce anxiety while seeing wedding photos on Facebook brings on full-blown nausea. I stepped back for a moment and envisioned my life in the future; there’s no one else in those pictures. Many people pair off and get married for the right reasons – and I’m pumped for those people – while others do it simply for the self-validation. Neither suits me.

I have plans, goals, dreams, ideas, places I want to see, things I want to do… and while some would love to share those with a significant other, I feel it would only stand in my way. Aside from the obvious steps of going to NYC, buying a car and potentially buying a home in the next several years, I have other plans including a somewhat monumental two-week trip. In none of these do I see someone beside me. I want my absolute independence and losing it frightens me.

Now, Andrea and I both agreed that every girl needs a decent jam session once in a while – a “part-time lover” as she put it. However, that doesn’t mean I need to compromise on what it is I want and what that means. It means that my life is my own and the only things that terrify me are complacency and sticking to convention.

I am absolutely open to the idea of meeting someone great if that someone great came along and managed to fit into my life like a favourite pair of jeans. While I don’t believe in fate, soulmates or any of that other idealistic romanticism, if it should happen, it will happen. And if it shouldn’t, it won’t. But finding a companion is the very least of my goals.

I deleted my profile.

This past Sunday was our third anniversary. Jordy and I have spent the last three months together, though it actually feels more like three years. I was forewarned of his potential issues, but my little Mango Monkey (he gets that nickname based on the way he smells after a bath) has done nothing short of constantly amaze me with his resiliency and ability to adapt.

The best part of it all is seeing his true personality start to shine now that he’s become truly comfortable with his “mommy”. Jordy loves to wake me up just moments before my alarm with a few kisses and some burrowing under my pillow. He truly loves to cuddle. Surprisingly, he does well with kids and is even gentle with sweet Sienna-bear. Jordy can’t get enough peanut butter and knows the Jif jar when I bring it out of the cupboard without a word. The little guy plays somethin’ fierce with his squeaky toys and shows no shame in farting around me – a lot.

Few people know this about him, but sadly, his first owner had him de-barked as a very young puppy. The sounds he made when he first came into my home were nothing above a whimper, but now he really tries to communicate with his voice and he’s built up quite a sound for himself. It’s my hope that he’ll learn to truly bark once again.

And lastly, if you’ve met Jordy, you know he’s an introverted dog. He’s not afraid of other dogs, but initially he never, ever interacted with them. We’ve been visiting dog parks several times a week and even found one that tends to be frequented by other pomeranians. Very cautiously he’s beginning to leave my side to go and interact, and I have no doubt he’ll be running and rolling on the grass with the rest of them in no time!

I can’t even begin to tell you how much joy he brings into my life on a daily basis and how lucky I feel to have found him. Check out Jordy’s set on Flickr for more pictures snapped last night at the park.

Sometimes it’s still strange to see my baby brother with a baby of his own…

“If you listen to the poets, they’ll tell you that a big, bad event in someone’s life changes them.
If you lose the woman you love or your legs,
You suddenly find a kind of beauty inside yourself.
That’s what they say – the poets.
The truth is, you don’t.
After a big, bad event, you only become more of the person you already were.” – Augustus Hill

I firmly believe that the most drastic changes in a person’s life can only be brought about by the kind of catalyst that shakes you to your core. The kind that flips your life upside-down, inside-out, busted into bits and smashed together again. The one that charges into your life like a t-bone car accident, smacking into you from left field and catching you unaware.

When what you thought you knew has been stripped away, all you’re left with is a choice to make.

You can stay down, bleed from your wounds and let infections fester. The only other choice is to stand up – no, jump up – and start limping. Soon the limp turns into a stride, and that stride turns into a jog. The jog becomes a sprint and one day you stop for a moment, turn around and see the remnants as only a microscopic dot on the darkening horizon.

Original Photo: tj.blackwell on Flickr

I have found a kind of beauty inside myself, but it’s a beauty that was always there. That beauty lies in unearthing more of the person I already was and finding a sense of tranquility in it all. When you are confronted with the reality that your life will no longer be what you thought it would be, you can start to imagine what else it can be… what else it should be.

Sometimes I feel as though I would resent anyone that would try to run awry with what I have going for me right now. While so many I know are consciously or subconsciously running the race for love, I question whether marriage is even something I want. Do I look into my future and see kids five years down the road? Absolutely not. To realize that about myself and my wants feels so incredible – like busting through chains that seem to enslave even the best of us.

Sure, some changes will kick you when you’re down. But if you can find it in yourself to kick back, you just might meet who you really are.

Now that is what the poets should say.

I thought that sitting down to write a Mother’s Day post would be incredibly easy, but what am I supposed to say that my mom doesn’t already know in her heart?

It’s been the biggest and most important job for the majority of her life. 28 and 25 years ago, my mother gave birth to myself and my brother, respectively. It was something more than apparent that she has always been destined for.

Photo: tempest_kat on Flickr

It’s not lost on me that there are countless people around the world who won’t celebrate today because their relationships with their mothers are all but existent. I have been so blessed with a mother who is gracious, kind, others-focused, loving, gentle, understanding, beautiful, generous, hard-working and always full of hope.

My mother is more than just my mom but my friend also. She is someone I look forward to spending time with, to talking with and to sharing with.

I don’t need one day in May to celebrate her because I love my mother every single day – something she knows all too well. There is, however, one thing I may not say as often as I should…

This Sunday will mark three weeks since I brought Jordy home to live with me. In that time, he has grown literal leaps and bounds, coming out of his shell and displaying a unique personality all of his own. For a dog that I expected to have so many behavioral issues, he continues to surprise and amaze me in how well he has seemingly adapted.

Change, however, isn’t always a forward motion I have learned. Sometimes that kind of progress is two steps forward, one step back.

We have our usual morning routine: we get up and go outside so he can pee, he eats, I shower and then we go for a 20-minute walk before I leave for work. Jordy has always done his “business” on our walk, much like clockwork, for the past two weeks.

This morning I got out of the shower to find that he had done his “business” in five different spots on the living room carpet and peed on the leg of the freshly-washed jeans I had laid out to wear today. I was totally disheartened and had one of those “what have I gotten myself into” mommyhood moments of self-doubt as I fought back tears. Who was I kidding? Raising a dog on my own?

When I was in negotiations to adopt a rescue dog, the group’s director cautioned that I’d have a few months of hard work ahead of me. I think perhaps I have been getting comfortable in our life together, forgetting that Jordy is one-half of the equation and maybe he hasn’t caught up to me. Three out of the last four nights this week, I have gone out after work. I had planned to again tonight, but this morning’s events were a huge wake-up call.

While I have adjusted to life with a dog, Jordy hasn’t adjusted to life with mommy in a new apartment in a new city with new toys and new food. His behavior hasn’t otherwise changed, and he’s still the same lovable ball of energy he’s been from day one. What I have realized, however, is that it’s me that needs to take a step back.

Henry David Thoreau said “things do not change, we change.” My life isn’t just about me anymore and I was shown that in a rather obvious way just an hour ago. All my experience with dogs in the past is meaningless in some regards because no two dogs are alike, and Jordy has specific needs that only I can meet.

I think the best thing I can do involves a little bit of self-sacrifice, meaning sacrificing my weekday social life in evenings for the next month or so. I can’t provide a routine that Jordy can get used to without some consistency. Maybe only then can we start to dip our toes and paws into different streams.

Please tell me Jordy and I are not alone in this.

I promise that this blog will not become dedicated solely to Jordy, but I’ve taken the week off work to spend time with him, so it’s really all I’ve got worth blogging about.

Jordy has been adjusting to his new life beautifully, with a full appetite, playful personality and affectionate demeanor. I’ve been working at training him in getting him into a routine of being left alone for periods of time during the day. Today he was alone for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon; by the end of the week, he should be used to my work schedule.

With anything this major, there’s always that momentary thought of “oh man, what have I gotten myself into?” but I have fallen so madly and completely in love in only three days.

Jordy has lived in six other homes in less than three years. It’s hard to believe, looking at this guy, that no one would want him enough to keep him.

I’ve committed myself to loving him and to give him the best possible home – the home that he deserves – for the rest of his life. God-willing, we’ll be together until I’m into my 40s.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Jordy and I have some sunshine to frolic in (yes, I said “frolic“) before he gobbles up his dinner (and he really does gobble)!

“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours,
faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.”
- Author Unknown