Love your library!

Recently I've rediscovered the library. I'm not used to having time to read for pleasure: I spent most of last year pretty much reading textbooks and lab manuals exclusively...There was no time for biographies and novels. This summer, I've been loving reading, though. The Toronto library system is decent - I can order up whatever I want on the internet, wait for it to come in, and pick it up at my local branch when it's ready. I'm catching up, slowly.

Currently I'm waiting for some great stuff:

"The Compassionate Carnivore: Or, How to Keep Animals Happy, Save Old MacDonald's Farm, Reduce Your Hoofprint, and Still Eat Meat" by Catherine Friend. No, I'm not thinking about going back to meat. But I am curious to read this, because I have loads of meat eating friends that do care about the earth and animals, and I suspect this might be a good book to recommend to people who want to make good choices but aren't ready or willing to part with meat in their diet.

"Five Years of My Life: An Innocent Man in Guantanamo" by Murat Kurnaz. Over a year ago, I saw Murat being interviewed on 60 Minutes. His story is compelling. At age 19, on a visit to Pakistan, he was taken into custody, sold to US forces, and held without proper charge in Guantanamo where he endured nearly five years of torture and suffering. After some massive campaigning by friends, family, and thousands of Amnesty International supporters, Murat was finally released and wrote this book.

"Summer of My Amazing Luck" by Miriam Toews. I just finished a book by her, called "A Complicated Kindness" that I just loved. I'm hooked on her writing, her characters, everything. If this novel is even close to as good as that one, I'm in for a treat.

"Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog" by Ted Kerasote. I gave this book to Ola for her 30th birthday and have been wanting to read it ever since. Somewhere, though I can't remember where, it was described as the best story about a dog there ever was. That's enough for me. I'm sure I'll cry buckets of tears when the dog eventually dies at the end, but that's to be expected, and I'm a sucker for dog stories.

"Redemption: The Myth of Pet Overpopulation and the No Kill Revolution in America" by Nathan Winograd. The story of animal sheltering in the United States, a history of sorts. I've been reading the author's blog a lot lately and like his take on animal issues.

"The Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships: Decoding Social Mysteries Through the Unique Perspective of Autism" by Temple Grandin & Sean Barron. Temple Grandin rules. She's autistic, a Ph.D. in Animal Science, and just plain brilliant. I *loved* her book, Animals In Translation - she's just got such a different way of looking at the world - her perspective about whatever she's tackling seems totally different, but the thing is, it always makes sense - it's just not the way I naturally, initially think about things. Which I find fascinating. A new world. Really exciting. I have only ever read her stuff about animals before - am really looking forward to her take on human social relationships.

I've also ordered up a DVD about Dr. Grandin called "The Woman Who Thinks Like A Cow" , which is about her life in general, and her work improving conditions in the livestock industry. I recently cancelled my cable, so am always looking for free, interesting, educational, stuff to watch. I miss the National Geographic Channel, and The Documentary Channel. (Okay, and HBO.)

Ohhh, just making this list is making me super anxious to sink my teeth into all this good stuff. Hooray for the library - I'll never stay away this long again!

Why love one but eat the other?

Chooseveg.ca has started a really cool campaign increasing awareness about the conditions farm animals are raised in and the target audience is subway riders in Toronto. Which is great, because whether you want to or not, if you're riding the subway, you're looking at the ads. Kind of controversial, but hopefully eye-opening for a lot of people who choose not to think about how what was once a cute little piglet ends up on their dinner plate.

The campaign is aimed at connecting our companion animals like dogs and cats to farm animals in terms of their similarities, and then exposes the suffering of farm animals in factory farms. Three different ads are featured, sharing information about pigs, cows, and chickens. I must admit I was majorly proud to be a vegetarian as I sat facing the pig themed ad yesterday on my ride downtown. You can view each of the ads on Chooseveg.ca website, as well as watch video footage, read articles, get great veggie recipes, and learn about the benefits of a vegetarian lifestyle.

Why I love Kensington Market

I was poking around on youtube and found this little homemade clip shot outside Graffitis that shows Baldwin Street busy with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd, John Borra Band playing live at the bar (the song is "Irene") and a lady and a kid dancing their hearts out to it. The quality is crap, but the sentiment: magic.

Nicotine Dreams

I don't think I blogged about my journey into non-smokerdom, but last year, shortly before my trip to Uganda, I set about on a quest to free myself from a nasty addiction. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. All my close friends smoked. I was living with a smoker, so our apartment smelled like smoke pretty much all the time. I fought against years of engrained smoking habits. The walking-to-the-bus-smoke. The with-a-glass-of-wine-smoke. The patio-smoke. The I'm-bored-smoke. And the I'm-stressed-smoke. And the I'm-angry-smoke. And all the rest of them. I did it though-- the patch helped me with the physical cravings while I retrained myself of all my psychological habits. And I was smoke-free for almost a year. Despite it being one of the most challenging years ever - despite the stress of school and the worst break up ever, and the move from hell, I maintained my status as a non-smoker. Until Siris went missing that day, and then, I'm ashamed to admit it, but here it is: I fell off the wagon.

For the months of May and June, I got back together with my old pal cigarettes. How quickly I fell into old habits. Awful. I hated my clothes smelling like cigarettes. I hated needing one with my morning coffee, and I definitely hated the money I was wasting on my dirty little habit. Most of all though, I hated the feeling that I had caved, I had failed, I was weak. Boooourns.

So, I'm on the patch again. Day five of my new life as a non smoker. I like the patch because you simply can't smoke when you're on it. You could have a stroke. That's incentive enough for me. I can't stop thinking about cigarettes, but I know that slowly that will go away. By the time school starts again I should have weaned myself off the patch and be fully rehabilitated.

But man, the dreams! I had forgotten about the vivid dreams you get when you've got a nicotine patch slapped on.

Two days ago, I dreamed I was at a wedding - either the bride or the groom was related to me, which I knew in the dream, even though I couldn't see either of them, so I don't actually know whose wedding it was. Dr. Phil was there, with his wife. (I know - random, right? Dr. Phil is haunting my dreams? Really?) They were related to the either the bride or the groom too, but not on my side. Dr. Phil was up there on stage, making eyes at his stupid wife and talking about how this was going to be "A Changing Day" for the couple. He kept blabbing on and on, while I kept trying to see who was actually getting married. Whoever they were, Dr. Phil was totally hijacking their wedding.

Yesterday I dreamed about a toddler girl who was getting her eyebrows threaded. Seriously, she was a two year old, cute as a button, getting her eyebrows threaded by some little old chinese lady in a basement somewhere. Weeeeird.

I almost never remember my dreams, and this week, they've been waking me up in the middle of the night. I hope once I'm down to a lower dosage patch I can go back to my regular dreamless, deep slumber nights.

Commie Bathroom Graffiti

The Communist's Daughter boasts some of the best bathroom graffiti ever. One day, after a few too many, I went a little camera happy with my cell phone, documenting. The forest background in one of the stalls is too awesome for words, and note the "You look hott!" written so when you check yourself in the mirror, you feel good about yourself.

"Fear is the lock, and laughter is the key to your heart....hehehe Don't worry - Keep Laughing"
"...OR TRY COMEDY."

"Please, somebody carve this bit of drywall out and put it in their scrapbook. It is obviously going to be an insanely valuable autograph when the genius visionary philosopher king who wrote it is inevitably world renowned. -- Sarcasm: for those times when you are not happy enough to be funny."

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink because when they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they will feel ALL DAY."

And the response: "every night you get fucked up you borrow joy from the next day. At least the non fucked-uppers break even. And that's all." (note the big "DOUCHE" with arrow pointing to this one.)

Siris and Jabba suck at posing

Brindle dogs unite! Jabba is my pal Ola's 12 year old french bulldog.

This was taken at Woofstock '09 courtesy of my friend Heather Reilly.

Rally to reform the Toronto Humane Society!

It rained the day of the protest. Which sucked. But still, two hundred people showed up. We stood under umbrellas in the rain, listening to speakers, holding signs, chanting "Tim Trow Must Go!" It was very peaceful. We collected tons of blankets, towels, toys, food, kitten formula, and other donations for the animals inside the shelter.

Ran into a friend that used to work at the Toronto Humane Society and wow, was it ever a reunion of ex-shelter workers and volunteers. When the chanting began, one of the ex-employees said to him "I'm scared to say anything. I don't want to get sued." She hadn't worked there in years but had signed something on her departure and wasn't sure when it "expired" and she was legally able to participate in something like this. She said there were current shelter workers there who were basically incognito. Hoodies up, sunglasses on, wanting to support the protesters, wanting to rally for change, but scared out of their mind for their jobs.

All this just reaffirmed that there is something definitely wrong at the Toronto Humane Society. A lot wrong.

Some good reading on the subject:

Globe and Mail article: Inside The Raid on the Toronto Humane Society
Toronto Star article: THS Chief Admits "I'm no saint"
Toronto Humane Society Protest Blog
Association for the Reform of the Toronto Humane Society Website

Perspective

Today, I went to visit Sue's husband in the hospital. On Wednesday, he had a below the knee amputation after stage three cancer was diagnosed in his right foot. He's known the diagnosis for almost six months now, and decided pretty quickly amputation was the way to go. The type of cancer, synovial sarcoma, is rare and the prognosis with chemo and radiation in his case wasn't very good. Amputation was the best case scenario to squash it and prevent any spreading. He'd been on a waiting list for surgery, on standby, and got about a week's notice that it was time. It's been a rollercoaster for him and for Sue, these past few months.

When I walked into his hospital room at Mt. Sinai, he was alert, smiling, chatting away, and surrounded by friends and family. He was up on his crutches, doing things for himself, studying the exercises he's gotta do, lining up his rehab and physio options, and ready to take on the world. Whatta guy. I can't see him sitting around, wallowing, watching the world go by. Not him.

Watching him, I felt strangely proud. I was inspired by his positivity and motivation. And especially by the outpouring of support around him. I was reminded of what really matters in this life, of all the simple stuff we take for granted everyday.

Xrays and tests confirmed no spreading of the cancer - which he'll have to monitor regularly for the next few years, but things look very good for him. And once he gets fit for prosthesis, through his therapy, and adjusted, I know that he'll be unstoppable. What a journey that awaits him. Go Rahim!

Hooray for Investigative Journalism!

Someone finally wrote it! And published it! The piece (or rather series of pieces) that expose the Toronto Humane Society for what it is. Yessss, Kate Hammer! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Basically the gist of it is this: The Toronto Humane Society is so busy keeping their euthanasia numbers low, that they're allowing animals to die, sick in their cages, when they could be humanely euthanised. Then, these cases don't count in their euthanasia numbers. Which they put on pretty charts and contrast against the City of Toronto Animal Control's euthanasia numbers, making them look like angels, and garnering more and more public donations. The Toronto Humane Society's management process appears to be such that shelter managers and workers get ultimate say on euthanasia, medical procedures, and care - not the veterinarians.

Further to this, employees aren't treated well, and shelter worker turnover is attrocious. Anyone who speaks out against management, questions policies... is fired. Even volunteers are asked not to come back. I've known this for a while. I've known people who volunteered there, worked there. I once volunteered there myself as a dog walker. I've joined Facebook groups calling for the resignation of the volunteer President, Tim Trow. I've read blogs, listened to past employee rants, and have known all too well what goes on there for quite some time. But how to stop it?

Kate Hammer, journalist for the Globe and Mail, has done an amazing thing here! And she and the Globe are no doubt being sued by the Toronto Humane Society for publishing the article. But good for her! The truth needed to come out. People are getting angry. The public backlash is about to begin, and Part Two and Part Three of the story have yet to be released.

Anxiously awaiting what comes next...

Fruit from Dorothy

For some inexplicable reason, my boss at the dog obedience school, Dorothy, has gotten into the habit of giving me fruit to take home every time I see her. I can't even remember when this started. One day, she was raving about some pears she'd had, and decided to give me one. I don't even like pears that much, but she seemed like she just wanted to share this pear experience with someone so badly, that I let her.

The next week, she followed up -- she wanted to know how the pear was. And what could I do but tell her how awesome it was, since she was so into it. She'd be offended if I didn't share her enthusiasm. And it really was good, I'm not gonna lie.

That night, I got two more pears from her. The next week, two pears and two tangerines. And so on. For some reason, she's pawning off all this fruit on me, and I'm not sure why. Does she think I don't eat enough? Does she think I can't afford fruit? It's really bizarre. She doesn't bring fruit for Ola, who works there with me. Just me. Only I get the fruit. It's lovely but weird. And I don't have to buy fruit anymore, which is also cool.

This week, Dorothy threw a couple of kiwis into the fruit bag. That's a new one - after a year of pears, apples and tangerines, suddenly kiwis! I wonder what it means...

"Do you like kiwis, Andria?" (quite pleased with herself) "I thought you might."

"Oh yes, Dorothy, I love kiwis!" I pretend kiwis are the best thing in the universe. "Thank you!"

Who knows what's coming next week. Random.

Andria vs Douchebag Landlord: it's on!

The last few weeks in my old apartment, the landlord came by to check out the condition of the apartment. He sent me a note saying that major damages had been assessed. These damages included things like mild caulking erosion in the bathroom, a leaky pipe in the kitchen (which we reported months before, and nothing was done about it!), ceiling damage (which we also had reported, because I was worried it might start leaking, and nothing was done about it), smoke damage (the ex smoked like a chimney), wall damage from where I had put up a doggie gate, and scratches on the front door.

He also proceeded to tell me that items were missing, like a door closure, and a panel on the dishwasher. Which I swear, I have never seen either of these things in the entire time I lived there. He did not want to hear that, and didn't even acknowledge it when I told him that in writing, and on his voicemail. Douche.

I conceed the dog gate wall damage. Maybe a couple of scratches on the front door. Maaaaybe the smoke damage, which could basically be resolved cleaning, which I did. The rest: wear and tear, and not my responsibility!

Even in the stress and general chaos of moving, I left that place sparkling! My mom was good enough to help with the cleaning, while I was supervising movers and carting stuff from old place to new place. It looked amazing when I left it. I thought that that was the end of it.

Today, I received a letter in the mail, asking for over $1500 to cover "repairs" to the apartment. There's a longer list of stuff I'm being charged for, including damage to the closet (which was ghetto from the first day we moved in, and all I could use half of it for was a vacuum cleaner) damage to the bedroom walls, a cleaning charge for dog food and broken glass (seriously, he must have found a couple of kibbles and shards of glass in an unaccessible corner somewhere, because we cleaned the crap out of the kitchen!). I'm being charged for "loose or broken towel racks". They were not broken! They were not even loose! He just wanted to replace them, like he wanted to redo the closet. RAGE.

I'm being charged for the "missing" door closure, and for the "missing" dishwasher panel, both of which never existed. I'm being charged for all the wear and tear that he neglected to address while I was living there. I obviously can't afford this, so...the war is on! Being unemployed so far this summer gives me ample time to research my rights as a tenant and figure out how I can get out of this, and hopefully get him in trouble in the process for trying to hose me unfairly.

Oh, and in addition to me swinging by to drop off the payment, he'd like the keys back. (The keys, four sets of them no less, I returned to the Super on April 30th, when I moved!) RAGE, RAGE, RAGE!

This could get ugly. Hopefully I come out on top. Wish me luck, folks - stay tuned for updates.

America has the chance to do the right thing.

This week the US introduced a new bill: the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act.

If passed, the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act would require the Obama administration to develop a regional strategy to protect civilians in central Africa from attacks by the LRA rebels. It will also enforce the rule of law and ensure full humanitarian access in LRA-affected areas.

And it commits the United States to increase support to economic recovery and transitional justice efforts in Uganda.

It's about time this issue made it to the Senate. There's been so many grassroots efforts to raise awareness and solicit help at the government level. The kids at Invisible Children blow me away! They got themselves and an army of youth supporters on the Oprah Winfrey Show earlier this month. It's so exciting that this is on the table, and that those affected by LRA conflict and it's aftermath might actually get some real help.

America, please do the right thing.

Cat Ladies

I saw this documentary as part of Toronto's Hot Docs festival this year. Partially because I thought I might recognize some people or character traits given that I'm active in the cat rescue world, and partially because I'm terrified I'll turn into a crazy cat lady myself. Even though, admittedly, I'm much more of a dog nerd.

This is a really great flick that delves into the psyches of four self professed "cat ladies" and what motivates them to do what they do. Basically, people who turn to cats to fill an emotional void in their lives. Some of the footage made me want to look away, while some had me tearing up at the loss and longing in these ladies' lives. The film also explores the all important (and pretty frightening) issue of "hoarding" vs "rescue".

Highly recommended!

New Digs/Concrete Jungle

I never thought I would live in an apartment building - I've always lived in apartments in houses, but I guess it had to happen at some point. There are advantages: most apartment buildings allow dogs, laundry is in the building, your super is on site so if anything breaks, it's usually resolved in a decent amount of time, it's easy to get a place with a balcony.

I'm in a low-rise: four storeys, and I'm on the main floor so I don't have to deal with waiting for elevators or making small talk with residents while I'm in the elevator, which is nice. And I do have a decent balcony. The shitty thing is if Siris barks, she's pissing off an entire building and not just a few people, like in previous apartments. I'm taking precautions like using her citronella spray collar, tiring the crap out of her, desensitizing her to me leaving and coming back, though. So far no nasty notes pinned to my door - yay!

It's weird looking out my window and seeing a ton of other apartments though. Lots of people packed into a very small area. It's weird being in a building with eighty apartments and not knowing a single one of my neighbours. It's weird getting my mail out of a tiny mail cubby. It's weird walking around the block and seeing tons of other apartment buildings, stretching up into the sky. I will get used to this.

The privacy thing is the hardest. Seeing people hanging out on their balconies means they can see me hanging out on mine. Using the same entrance as seventy nine other apartments is just odd. Seeing everyone's routines but not knowing who they are is weird. It's like commuting via public transit, when you see the same people on your route all the time, and you never talk to them, yet you feel like you know them. Except it follows me home. Weird.

I picked this place because it's near everything. The subway is less than a ten minute walk from my door. It's closer to school than my old place. Groceries, shopping, bars, are all within a short walk. The amount of shoe stores I can walk to is kind of frightening. (I can also walk to a Mendocino outlet store - wooot! Ok, that's my inner Carrie Bradshaw speaking, I guess.) There's a clinic I might try to volunteer at that's five minutes away. And the best thing, there's an amazing off leash dog park with tons of fenced off nature trails just a couple minutes away. Which breaks up the grey and the concrete quite nicely. This ain't bad for now. It's just gonna take some adjusting.

The fishies survived the move, too!

After traumatizing my three fish by removing them from their tank and placing them in a tupperware container, driving them to my new place, and then sticking them and their tupperware container in the closet for over 24 hours while I decided where to put the fish tank, it looks like they handled the stress okay.

Still alive and kicking, one week post move. If I haven't killed them yet, I knew they could do it. And look how cleeeeean their new digs are!

Worst. Day. Ever.

While I was moving, Siroons went to stay with a friend. I couldn't deal with her constantly being in the way, anxiety increasing by the minute, following me around like a shadow. I made the move okay, and was supposed to rendez vous with my friend that night for her 30th birthday party and then get a lift home with Siris in the morning. A chance to relax, have a few beers, see my puppers again... but nope. Miss Siris decided to bolt from their place and went MIA.

I spent the whole weekend driving around, dropping off posters, making calls, logging her as Lost on every internet site I could imagine, hiking fields trying to find my girl. Worrying my head off, trying not to worry my head off. Rollercoaster city. My friend feeling awful, her birthday ruined, and me still wound up from the move.

She took off on Saturday morning and we found her Sunday morning at Kennel Inn (animal control) in Aurora. Turns out she hadn't gone far at all, and an off duty kennel worker picked her up shortly after she left. I was beside myself when we got the call that they had her. They let me come in to make sure it was her, even though they were technically closed. Oh, happy tears! And then I had to leave her there and pick her up the next day since they'd be open. It was brutal leaving her there, but amaaaazing to know she was safe. Never thought I'd be one of those douchebags picking up their lost dog at animal control, but so be it.

Within two minutes of putting her back in the car, I was already shouting commands at her, as she was a brat in the back seat, squirmy and hyperactive. Heh. We had a doggie date at the Aurora Dog Park, a hike through some trails, a long ride back and she was out for hours. A nice calm intro to my new place.

Here she is crashed out after I got her home:

and chilling on the patio the next day:

Crisis averted. Welcome home, baby!

I Hate Moving

Boooo. Tomorrow is the day, and I'm *kind of* ready. Siris is at a friend's house, I'm madly packing away. Goodbye, creepy haunted apartment.

Knitting Project!

Just to further confirm I'm an old lady, I'm making a cat blanket for the kitties at school. It may just be the first knitting project I actually complete. However, school's out for summer so I have until September to get er done. Possible? Maybe.

Ode to Survivor

I have to confess, I'm in love with Survivor. It's probably the best reality TV show ever. A lot of my friends aren't into it, and think about it probably how I used to think about it: stupid, boring, totally predictable. Except it's not. It's so awesome that I want to read internet message boards about it. And I do. It's the reason I got bunny ears, when I ditched my cable, and outside of Law and Order the odd time, pretty much the only television I watch.

This season is no exception. We have possibly a Survivor first - an alliance formed on Exile Island that might prove to be the thing that gets the winner to the end. It's all very exciting. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but really. I'm not going to lie. I love watching a bunch of really strange and interesting personality types all try to live together and work together and strategize together in extremely stressful and constantly demanding surroundings. I believe that it ultimately says a lot about who's really a good person and who's not, and whether or not that matters really, enough to determine whether you get the $1 Million at the end of it. My current theory is that you do have to be a good person to succeed at the game and get the prize. Jury votes, alliances, probably all depend on a certain level of respect and admiration from your peers. Usually you have to be a good person to earn that. Usually.

Plus Jeff Probst being a total snark and not holding anything back. Plus the editing! Ohh, the editing.

I like watching along and deciding who I believe is worthy enough to win... and then seeing if actually happens. I love watching people realize a lot of really profound stuff about themselves and how they interact in this world. Or watching them not realize it and keep on being totally clueless and full of themselves - there's one of those this season, too. (Yeah, I'm talking about you, Coach!) All in all, amazing television. Skeptics, give it another watch. You'll be glad you did.

Bandaging Practice!

My girl is such a good sport!