(What's this all about?  Read here.)

Blurgh.  We have a house full of sick people at the moment.  We had to cut a camping trip short this weekend to bring two sick little girls home, and now it seems that daddy has succumbed too.  I have a sore throat but am otherwise okay, although it's only really a matter of time.  I spent the majority of my day on snot patrol, chasing children with kleenex.  All without pay or thanks!  Parenting truly is the greatest job ever.

So now the kids are off to bed, the dishes are done, and I am determined to sit on my bum for an unspecified amount of time, orange juice and vitamins close at hand.  And instead of using this time to, I don't know, do one of my 101 Things (like, for example, write something for this contest that is fast approaching and starting to make me panic), I think I'll continue to write about them instead. 

56. Write 10 long overdue and unexpected thank you notes

I feel as though this would simply be a nice thing to do.  There are lots of people I can think of that have had an impact on my life, in big and small ways, that I could do with sending a little gratitude.  I have been trying to do a better job of feeling grateful for the many gifts in my life, and I think it's important to actually say thank you too.  And it's always a nice thing to hear.

How will I know when it's complete?  I will have sent 10 thank you notes (preferrably handwritten but email will do if I don't have a mailing address for the recipient).  I'm not counting the regular thank you notes I usually send for birthday and Christmas gifts, though.  Which reminds me that I still have to send some of those for my daughter's first birthday...which was back in July.  Egads.

57. Write letters to the people I love most, telling them why

Pretty much as above.  So many things go unsaid that should be said, things that would make people feel good and wanted and cared for.  After someone has passed away, you often hear people say that they wish they had told them how wonderful they thought they were.  I say let's start telling people now (as always, feel free to leave comments below...ha!).

How will I know when it's complete?  Off the top of my head, I'm not sure how many "people I love most" there are, but let's say for the sake of measurability that I need to write and send five of these letters.  For both the thank you letters and these love letters, I can count them as my monthly handwritten letter if it is indeed handwritten and sent before the end of the month.  But I'll try to count it seperately because the more letters the better.

58. Take a no-children-allowed trip with my girlfriends

This is going to be a tricky one because it depends on said girlfriends (you know who you are) making this a priority too and because, amongst us, we have six children, plus one on the way (I hasten to add that I am not the one expecting).  That's a lot of people trying to ruin our plans!  But I feel this should be done.  It's important for us ladies to have some time to ourselves and those Value Village bargains aren't going to find themselves.

How will I know when it's complete?  We will have taken a trip to a city that none of us live in, without any children in tow.  This will happen!  I have officially assigned this task to all of us!  Realistically it is likely that this will have to happen towards the end of this project, because we have this terrible habit of enjoying our children's company and sometimes even choosing to feed them from our own bodies.  But I will make this happen if I have to pull up in an unmarked van and kidnap some bitches.

59. Go on an outing as a family of four at least once per month

It is so awful that I have to write this as a task.  To complete a mere once a month!  But the fact is that while we spend a good amount of quality time together at home, we don't often go out all together.  One of us will take one kid out to run an errand or go somewhere, while the other stays home with the other kid, but we rarely go out as a family.  So more effort is needed here.  I don't care where we go because the fact is we have fun no matter where we are.  I believe our July outing was a trip to Costco, and we had a blast.  Those carts can move.

How will I know when it's complete?  The four of us will be out in public together doing something, once a month.  If we can't manage this, we are terrible people.

60. Talk to my sister on phone or Skype at least twice a month

My sister Leah lives a long way away on the east coast.  Much too far away.  We see each other probably once every four months or so, all due to her effort to come see us because we have never gone to visit her because, as previously mentionned, we are terrible people (we will become perhaps moderately less terrible when my eldest daughter and I take a trip to see her next month).  We chat by phone fairly regularly now but there have been times when we've gone a month or two without catching up, and that is far too long.  So it is now mandated.  At least twice a month!

How will I know when it's complete?  Pretty straightforward.  I will "talk to my sister on phone or Skype at least twice a month".  Not much wiggle room.

I'm pretty on target to complete all of my monthly goals for September, although I'm not sure a date night will happen.  Our babysitters (also called "grandparents") have all been out of the country for most of the month, and now we're all sick.  We may just have to go out twice in October to make up for it.  I'm okay with that.

We have a large garbage disposal bin being delivered to our driveway on Friday.  The hope is that we can do a big clean up and purge in our house over the weekend, particularly the garage and basement, so I imagine I'll be able to check off Thing 50: Get Rid of 101 Things next week.  That will feel good.  And otherwise we just keep on keeping on.

And keep on disinfecting.  So, so many things to disinfect.

(What's this all about?  Read here.)

Hey, so I remembered the other day that I haven't finished explaining my 101 Things.  And yet, somehow the earth kept spinning and we all managed to get on with our lives.  I'm sorry to leave you on the edge of your seats for so long. 

51. Arrange at least one date night per month

I feel like it would be a good idea to spend time with my husband and perhaps have a conversation with him at least once a month.  That seems reasonable.  Just a few hours to ourselves without children wanting attention and interrupting our attempts at conversation with their adorable giggles and "hey look at me being cute" scene-stealing.  And perhaps we can talk about something other than our children.  Like, the weather?  Current events?  What do people talk about?  And maybe for once I can be the one being cute.  Maybe I'll even shave my legs and put on a dress.  Hold on, let's not get crazy here.

How will I know when it's complete?  We'll have spent at least a couple of hours together away from the children and outside of the house, at least one time a month, babysitters permitting (there's chocolate zucchini bread in it for you).

52. Write at least one handwritten letter per month

Remember when the best thing ever was to go to the mailbox and find a letter?  An honest to goodness hand-written letter from a friend with news about what was going on in their life two weeks ago?  Man, that was the best thing ever.  And maybe it would have stickers on it.  And maybe the paper was perfumed.  And then you'd find your best Garfield stationary and write back in your neatest cursive and search the house for an envelope and the correct amount of stamps and actually LEAVE YOUR HOUSE to send it.  And now, it took me a few weeks to track down writing paper, proper letter writing paper.  Weeks.  Sadness.  So I'm bringing back the handwritten letter.  I was going to bring sexy back, but someone beat me to it.

How will I know when it's complete?   I will have written a letter of at least one page in length, though preferably more, on actual paper with some sort of writing implement, and it will be in an envelope addressed and stamped and slotted lovingly into a mailbox by the end of each month.   

53. Get together with a friend at least once per month (play dates don't count)

I hear that some people have friends and apparently they spend time with them.  Craziness.  I think they might go for coffee or perhaps to a movie.  It sounds nice.  Most of the people I would call friends, at least to their faces, live far away from me.  Possibly because I say bitchy things like that.  But there are a few people in town who I like spending time with and with whom I would like to become better friends, and miraculously they keep saying they'd like to get together with me too even after they've spent time in my less-than-riveting company.  So this is going to happen!  Out with people!

How will I know when it's complete?  Much like the date night requirements, I will be out of the house spending time with people talking about things, most importantly without my children, although I will be sure to leave them in the care of a suitable adult or, failing that, a fake one made out of carpet.  Play dates do not count because there is no time for adult conversation when one kid is throwing rocks down a slide while another is climbing up the same slide feet first.

54. Reconnect with three long-lost friends in person (Facebook doesn't count)

Although, come to think of it, why should I make new friends when I had perfectly good ones at one time?  Surely it would be easier just to dust off those old friendships.  In all seriousness though, there are people that I have lost track of that I would dearly love to get back in touch with and the time to do so is now.  The time to do so is not ten years from now when I need a kidney.  Friendship now, body parts later, I always say.  Did I say something about being serious a moment ago?

How will I know when it's complete?  I'll have contacted three friends who I have not seen for at least 3 years, let's say, and will have gotten together with them in the flesh.  Being friends on Facebook doesn't count because knowing that someone ate delicious pancakes for breakfast does not a friendship make.  I'll have actually physically been in the same room as them and perhaps I'll even have hugged them.  But only really in an attempt to judge if they're the right size for a favourable kidney donation.  

55. Reconnect with three long-lost family members in person (ditto)

 Well would you look at this.  I have already COMPLETED this motherforgetter, even before I got around to writing about it.  Which would make you think, perhaps, that I had set this up to be an easy task and yet, when I set it I did not expect I would be able to complete it so quickly.  In fact, I thought three would be a stretch, because the majority of my family lives far away from me (perhaps due to the aforementionned bitchiness?  If so, I'm blaming genetics!  Boom!  Right back at you!).  When I first came up with my list, I knew of one upcoming visit from my Aunt Mae and then later I was surprised when an uncle, and another aunt, and two cousins, and various other relations decided that this was the summer to visit me!  Yay!  So, I am considering this done but I am making it my goal to reconnect with three more family members, if I have to drag them here kicking and screaming.  Have I mentionned I make really good chocolate zucchini bread?  And I can't even eat it anymore, so it's all for you.

How will I know when it's complete?  When I have hugged at least three people who have to love me because I'm family.  And I have!  Suckers!

So um hey.  Did you notice I wrote twice tonight?  Not too shabby.  Did you also notice that I kept it pretty brief?  It has come to my attention that some of you don't have four hours a day to devote to reading my blog.  If you were being honest though, I'm pretty sure that you could juggle some stuff around, get a sitter, eat lunch at your desk?  Does that report you're working on really need to get done?  Try to make more of an effort, is all I'm saying. 

What's that?  You're moving away?  But why?

Okay, I'm going to keep this one short and sweet.  No, really.  I've already said quite a bit about the first two books in the Hunger Games trilogy and the third, Mockingjay, continues in the same vein. 

I enjoyed the story and felt that the third book lived up to the other two in terms of both the plot and the quality of the writing.  Action-packed but with poignant moments, excellent character development, intriguing plot twists, engaging writing all around.

There is an event that happens right at the end of chapter 24, not long before the end of the book (and if you have read it you know exactly what I'm talking about), that actually took my breath away.  I had to stop for a few moments because I could not believe what had just happened.  It was one of those situations where you're reading and you realize what is going to happen about two sentences before it does, and there's that feeling of dread, and then it happens (more discerning readers may have realized it was coming long before I did, but I for one was shocked).  I didn't want to turn the page because I didn't want it to be true.  I can't remember the last time that has happened to me when reading a novel, so huge props to the author on that one.

Really not much to complain about.  Except!  Except...the characters make a decision not long after that incident, and I could not believe that Katniss would make the decision she does.  Could not believe it.  It seemed completely out of character, despite the incident that influences her decision.  It was the only time I didn't like the character, and I don't think that's a great way to end the book.

Speaking of the ending...I won't spoil anything here; I'll just say that I was satisfied with it.  I think that it could have been elaborated upon, but it was satisfactory.

All in all, I definitely recommend the series.  And now, onwards, to Lamb by Christopher Moore, recommended by Colleen.  Oh, and perhaps I should actually write something for that contest I'm apparently entering in November.  Eek.

So, I know I said I wasn't going to write about my kids on here.  And I'm not going to...much.  But today is a bit too momentous to let slip by without comment:  my sweet first-born daughter Isla started kindergarten today.

I've been dreading this day since she was born, and in particular over the last few weeks as summer has been winding down.  I've been home with her ever since that stormy Hallowe'en night that she came into our lives and along the way she has become my trusty sidekick.  We've had a few days apart from each other now and then, but I'm very used to having her around.  And despite my grumblings about lack of naps and a budding attitude, the truth is that I rather like her company.  The truth is she is one of the best little ladies I know.

Kindergarten, to me, means that someone else gets to have the joy of her, gets to hear her giggles and see her learn something new and see how proud she is of herself when she learns something new.  And listen to her funny little songs and answer her incredible questions and just get to be with her.  Someone else gets to be with her.  For most of the day.  And a big part of me thinks that makes no sense.  Okay, so they may get the shrill screams and perhaps they'll get some of the whining too.  But the house was so quiet today that I maybe even missed the whining a bit. 

Kindergarten means that I miss out.  As I said to my husband, I feel like it's the beginning of her pulling away from me.  I feel like I'm starting to lose her.

And yes, I know that's dramatic and I know that school is going to be so good for her.  She needs to be around other kids, to make friends and play and play and just play and laugh with other kids and like other kids and be liked by other kids.  And while I do not care in the least about striving for academics in kindergarten, she is a bright kid who loves to learn new things and I can't wait to see her love of learning grow.  And I love her school and her teacher is great and I feel like it is a very safe, warm place for her.  But oh my god how I miss her so much already. 

I haven't been able to sleep the last few nights.  I have stress-induced acne.  I've had a few good cries.  I've had moments when I have very seriously questioned why I am letting her go and maybe there's another option and could there somehow be a webcam installed in her classroom so I don't miss anything?  But no.  She has to go.  I know she has to go.  Because I know it's the best thing for her and my qualms are all coming from a selfish place (a good kind of selfish, but selfish all the same). I know that some days apart will mean that we have better quality time together when she's home.  And I know that it will be good to have one-on-one time with her little sister who, being second-born, has not had the same benefit of constant motherly attention that the first one gets by default.

And so last night I determined that I would come into today with some positive thinking, to remember all the good that school will mean for her.  Beyond academics, school gave me strong, lasting friendships, friends I consider my family.  It gave me confidence in myself, the opportunity to learn about who I am and practice speaking in my own distinct voice.  It gave me a chance to be myself, and be accepted for being myself, amongst people who were not forced to love me by law.  I hope she will experience the same.

We were all in fairly good spirits this morning, as we got up and dressed, teeth brushed, monkey lunch bag packed.  My husband had to remind me at one point to calm down, that my stress was becoming obvious and it was one of those unsaid things that we needed to keep things calm so she would stay calm.  For her part, Isla has been a little unsure about kindergarten as it has been approaching over the last few weeks, telling me that she doesn't want to go, but this morning she didn't seem at all worried about it.

So we got packed up.  Isla didn't want to leave her baby at home (her baby doll) but she dealt with it very well, as per usual, when I told her that baby had to stay home, but would be waiting to see her after school.  As we headed to the washroom to brush our teeth, Isla said to me "But I don't like to leave my baby."  I know all about that, I said.  I know.  But she will be okay. 

We took the obligatory pictures outside the house, my sweetie with her sparkly hairband and her elephant backpack, and I fought back the tears a bit.  We loaded into the double stroller and headed out.  When we got to the kindergarten yard, Isla quickly latched on to a group of little girls, giggling and grinning from ear to ear.  My heart eased a little.  Her teacher came out to see her and Isla gave her the picture she had drawn for her the day before, beaming with pride.  Her teacher told her they would be painting today, which I think sold Isla on this whole kindergarten idea.  When it was time for her to go, we did "kissing hands" where she kissed my hand and I kissed hers, so if we missed each other during the day we could just put our hands to our cheeks to feel the other's kiss and love (an idea from the book The Kissing Hand which I highly recommend).  And then she got to be the leader and she led the other kids all the way inside, as happy as could be.

I managed to keep the tears in until she was inside.  And I actually wasn't the big weepy mess I thought I might be.  But I walked home with my littlest one and let a few tears fall and I did actually put my hand to my cheek just to feel her kiss.  And then I got on with my day.  I ran some errands and spent time with my sweet 14 month old, and went downtown to buy Isla a suitcase for an upcoming trip (and I think it helped to use part of the day to do something for her, to prepare a surprise and run an errand that I would have had to do without her anyway).  We passed by the school on our way back home and I looked towards it and smiled, and wondered what she was doing.  Happily wondered.  I missed her but I knew she was probably having a blast.  And sure enough, before I knew it it was 3:30 and time to pick her up.

She had an awesome day and told us of going to the library, and colouring, and singing songs, and playing with playdough (apparently they had purple), and cooking in the toy kitchen, and of course painting.  And I asked her if she's excited to go back to school on Monday and she said yes.  So what more could I ask for, really.  Except maybe a webcam.

One of my favourite quotes about parenthood comes from Elizabeth Stone:

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

I feel like that's the most accurate description of parenthood I've ever come across.  So my heart will now be spending every Monday, Wednesday, and the occasional Friday in kindergarten, just a few minutes walk around the corner but much farther than it has ever ventured before.  And I think it will be okay.  There will be more weeping (mine, not hers), for sure, but there will also be joy and pride and stories and friendships and a world of things to learn.  It will be more than okay.   

But stay tuned.  Because when my youngest starts kindergarten in three years time, when it will be full-day everyday no less, I fully expect to have a complete mental breakdown. 

Okay.  Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay and The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto.  I need to get these books out of my life, and the guilt due to not writing about them yet off my conscience, so I can dive into the third Hunger Games book, Mockingjay, which finally came in for me at the library!  Just in time for the weekend.  The kids will find food somehow.  I'm sure there are at least 16 cheerios hidden in every room.  SO, two quick and dirty book responses.

Ysabel was recommended to me by my friend Jen.  The book's central character is a 15 year old Canadian boy named Ned, who is travelling in Provence with his famous photographer father and his father's three assistants.  One afternoon Ned wanders into a cathedral where he meets an American exchange student, Kate.  They in turn surprise an intruder who they realize is not of this world somehow.  This encounter draws them into (I'll let the book jacket do the work here) "a haunted tale, as mythic figures from conflicts long ago erupt into the present, changing and claiming lives."

It was an interesting and well-told story but I had a few problems with it.  At first, I had trouble getting a handle on the character of Ned, as he went from being rather sullen and sulky to totally keen on history which seemed a bit far-fetched to me.  But I suppose all teens are sullen and sulky by default, history nerd or no history nerd.  And I've never really understood teenage boys anyway.  Or boys of any age. 

The whole mythical aspect of the story drove me crazy, truth be told.  I think this may be because I don't have a base of knowledge about mythology, or Roman and Celtic history, or druids, so I felt a bit lost.  Now some of that history was explained, by way of the characters doing their own research to figure out what was going on, but I still felt like I was out of my depth.  The bigger problem I had was not understanding what the h-e-lindsay-lohan was going on with the trio of mythical figures.  And it wasn't for me about trying to figure out what their story was; it was about trying to figure out what they were in the first place.  I couldn't care about their story, their plight and this saga that they'd been playing out for centuries, because I had no understanding of who they themselves were.  And I never did as it was never made clear. 

At the end of Part One there is the book's major event, when Ned and Kate witness a ritual which includes these three figures, during the course of which (spoiler alert) one of the photographer's assistants is drawn into their world.  If this hadn't been one of the books recommended to me, and therefore something I was (self-)assigned to read, I would have stopped right there.  It was much too ridiculous.  But I soldiered on, and I'm glad that I did.  Despite my major confusion, and apathy, towards the mythical figures, the other characters were very well-written and intriguing, and the central story of them trying to rescue their friend was compelling. The relationships between the human characters were realistic and well-developed.  I would definitely read another of Guy Gavriel Kay's book, though I might have to keep wikipedia open as I do.

What I learned about writing from this book:  do not assume your readers know stuff.  Perhaps most people who read science fiction would have understood it, but it would behoove authors writing fiction to make sure their book can be enjoyed by anyone.  Another thing I learned:  I do not trust characters, or people, who excessively refer to someone else by their name in a conversation, as Ned's aunt does.  As in "Ned, blah blah blah.  Do you think so, Ned?  Oh really Ned.  Ned, I think..."  I don't know why I don't trust people like that, but I don't.  So all through the book I was thinking that the aunt was going to be a baddie.   And then she wasn't.  Not the author's fault that I have this assumption, but as a writer it would behoove me (this post is officially double-behooved) to learn about how different ways of speaking (word choice etc.) are perceived.

Moving on!

I picked up The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto because I'm a sucker for a cool name.  For example, my favourite English Premier League football player is Yakubu.  Just the best name ever.  I don't know anything about him other than his name, and I don't even know or care what team he plays for.  Still my favourite (second place goes to Lua Lua).  So how could I not read a book by someone named Banana?  Also, I had heard her name before and read on the book that she had written bestsellers, and I had nothing else to read, so I picked it up.

The Lake is about a young woman in Tokyo, a graphic artist who is grieving the death of her mother.  She begins a tentative romance with a man with a mysterious past, which is connected to two old friends of his who live beside a lake.  

At first I was like, I love this!  Her writing style is simple but compelling.  But then there was paragraph after paragraph of the central character trying to figure out her feelings for this young man and I just couldn't connect.  I wanted to but I couldn't.  I think my problem was that I didn't have a good feel for who she was, so I didn't really care all that much about what she was feeling.  I'm a heartless bitch, it seems (feel free to comment below).  There were definitely moments that were compelling, and particular pieces of prose that were lovely, but I wasn't as interested as I wanted to be.  Because the story could have been very interesting, I think, if there had been some dramatic tension.  I just didn't understand what was at stake for the characters.  So there's something I have learned...let there be stakes!

This is all very critical.  I'm not doing enough to say what I did like, and flipping back through the pages there really is some nice writing.  So again, I would read another one of this author's works.  I'd like to give her another chance.  Maybe I've just been in a bad mood and these poor authors are bearing the brunt of it. 

And who am I to criticize?  What have I written lately?  Not much of anything, however one thing I did gain from reading The Lake was an idea for the piece I am bullying myself into writing for this contest, in what very well may go down in history as the worst decision ever.  Totally different story, but it will also involve a lake.  The writing is coming to me in fits and starts, ideas popping up here and there as I'm doing the dishes or driving my car (while remaining fully attentive at all times), but I need to actually get pen to paper or fingers to keyboard soon because that deadline is quickly approaching.  And me-the-hardass-editor is being awfully strict about this with me-the-poor-newbie-writer.  But it's impossible!  Get to work!  Dramatic tension abounds.

But right now me, myself, and I need to get to bed.  Two book responses complete!  Huzzah!

Last week I had a few hours to myself and decided to take a wander around the campus of Queen's University, my alma mater.  It was a grey day, and I wasn't feeling all that well, but it was a nice trip down memory lane all the same.  Today is Labour Day which means it's move-in day at the university residences and I find myself reminiscing a bit about my own arrival at Queen's 15 years ago.

In the spring of 1996, as I was finishing up my final year of high school, I was really excited to find out that I had been accepted to Queen's, where I planned to major in drama and film.  I had no real idea what I eventually planned to do with my degree, but I loved drama in highschool and it was the only thing I felt passionate about (I considered an English degree but feared it would kill my love of reading).  I chose Queen's because it had an integrated drama and film program; I enjoy movies too and thought that studying film might widen my career options.  Queen's was also a few hours from my home which I thought was perfect:  close enough to get back for a weekend, far enough away that I could have my own life independent from my family.  And although my photos won't do it justice, it didn't hurt that Queen's campus is rather beautiful.

I will always remember the summer of 1996 as one of the best times in my life.  It was the last summer with all of my high school friends in the same place, and we had a blast doing the normal things that high school students do, the things that might not sound all that exciting on paper but are the height of awesome when done with the people who know you best.  Hanging out in basements, watching countless movies on video (OLD PERSON ALERT), driving around aimlessly, and more underage drinking than my mother would likely care to hear about (I hasten to add that those last two were never combined).  I think back on that summer often.  It was pretty near care-free.

I remember very clearly the August day that I received the letter from Queen's informing me of my residence placement.  I was pretty elated because I had been assigned the holy grail of res rooms:  a single room in Victoria Hall.  Little did I know how big a role that random residence lottery would play in determining the rest of my life.

As for move-in day itself, I don't recall much.  I remember it being atrociously busy, with cars lined up down the street and parents carrying all manner of desk lamps and mini-fridges, boxes upon boxes of the things we couldn't live without, as well as the brand new "off to university" cookware and laundry hampers and dish detergent that signified we were now truly entering adulthood.

I seem to recall a pretty quick goodbye with my family.  I imagine that was more my doing than theirs, as I was eager to finally be on my own.  I wonder now how they felt, driving away and leaving me behind, knowing I would likely never live with them again, knowing the best they could expect might be a weekly phone call.  I don't imagine I gave it much thought at the time, but as a mother myself now, the very idea makes me nauseous. 

Once they left, I remember feeling a little homesick and missing my boyfriend who was too many miles away.  I think I spent some time putting up photos in my room; it certainly wasn't long before it was plastered floor to ceiling with memories of that summer.  At some point I managed to glom onto a group of girls from my floor, and we must have headed to Ban Righ cafeteria for some dinner.  I don't know for sure.  I know we did a lot of residence orientation ice-breaker type of activities that day and the day after, and somewhere in there I became insta-friends with the girl four doors down named Jen, who would one day be best-maid-of-honour-man at my wedding.  And somewhere in there, the Irish boy next door (who apparently was confused about how un-Asian I looked given the name on my door) likely told me to smile, his only form of communication with me for a good few weeks. 

That first year of university was fantastically busy.  I loved my classes and studied my ass off, even spending my Friday and Saturday nights with my books as I was too young to go out to the bars (this was probably a good thing, although it did put a damper on my social life).  I threw myself into every extracurricular drama production that would take me, searching out props and hanging up lights and giving actors their cues, and loving every minute of it.  By February I had broken up with my boyfriend and was engaged to the Irish boy, and I think by that time Jen, two other friends, and I had signed our names on a lease for a place off-campus for that coming September.  I had made some new friends and kept in good touch with those from high school, who were having their own adventures all over the map.

(Irish boy's room on the left, mine on the right, terribly exciting photography all around)

And now 15 years have passed, in the blink of an eye.  The Irish boy and I married and stayed in town, and so I have occasion to pass by Queen's now and then, but it's rare that I walk around on campus like I did last week, like I did back as a student.  Some things have changed as the rest of life has (the field and the parking lot behind Victoria Hall have now switched places, which messes with my head), but it was comforting to see that most things haven't.  Vic Hall itself looks unchanged, at least from the outside, although I can't imagine they've done much to update it on the inside either.  

I hope that whoever's moving into my old room on Vic 4B has an incredible time at university, as I did.  I hope that they have late-night chats in the hallways, steal the clothes of the boy silly enough to shower without locking the door, and dance on the common room coffee table.  And I hope they do not find themselves out in the parking lot in a bathrobe, shampoo running into their eyes, after a fire alarm interrupted their shower.  Check inside your closet door: you'll see my name carved there (let's blame the guy before me who started it all).  And perhaps there are the names of those who have been there since.  I encourage you to add yours.

Oh yeah, and check the drop ceiling.  I'm pretty sure I left a box of Kraft Dinner up there. 

The 4-Hour Workweek by Timothy Ferriss is admittedly an unusual choice for a stay-at-home mom.  I'm pretty sure that the only way I could reduce my workload to four hours a week would involve a litter box and troughs of some sort, and subsequent prison time.  I read this book because my husband was all fired up about it, and I try my best to feign interest in...ahem, I mean show genuine fascination with...the things he cares about (sidenote: Go Liverpool!).  

The book presents a method and way of thinking toward becoming one of the "New Rich", "those who abandon the deferred-life plan and create luxury lifestyles in the present using the currency of the New Rich: time and mobility."  By "deferred-life" Ferriss is referring to the concept of working and saving for retirement, and putting off your dreams until that time.  He offers instead an approach he calls Lifestyle Design, the aim of which is to create automatic income and flexible, mobile employment to allow for frequent "mini-retirements."  Sounds good to me.

Ferriss' ideas seem very pie in the sky at first, but he takes the reader through a surprisingly practical and realistic-sounding step-by-step process to (a) figure out what you actually want and (b) immediately put a plan into action towards achieving your goals within an accelerated time frame.  Now I have not, as of yet, followed the process myself, although some ideas are bumping around in my brain, but there are a few concepts that I found interesting.  I was surprised too at how many of his ideas I could apply to my own work as a stay-at-home mom.  

Most applicable to my life were Ferris' recommendations towards his first "ingredient" to Lifestyle Design, Elimination, which involves "cultivating selective ignorance, developing a low-information diet, and otherwise ignoring the unimportant" with the goal being to increase your per-hour results and gain time rather than manage it.  He talks about preventing work for work's sake, and the "minimum effective load", doing the minimum necessary for the maximum effect.  He refers to something called "Pareto's Law" or the "80/20 Principle."  Pareto's Law is summarized as "80% of the outputs result from 20% of the inputs", which Ferriss reframes as two questions: 

1) Which 20% of sources are causing 80% of my problems and unhappiness?

2) Which 20% of sources are resulting in 80% of my desired outcomes and happiness?

Essentially this about shortening your work time by limiting your tasks to only the most important.  Ferriss reviews how he used these questions to analyze his work life, and I'm finding it interesting to do the same, despite my "work life" being a fair bit different than the 9-to-5 office job which is his frame of reference.  No major revelations as of yet but I find I'm paying closer attention to what tasks, people, things, situations, environments etc. make me the happiest and which cause me the most problems and I'm starting to think about how I can focus my time and energy on the happy-making things, and decrease the time and energy I spend on the soul-sucking things.  Fairly straight-forward, but more analysis is certainly required.

He couples the 80/20 approach with Parkinson's Law, which dictates that "a task will swell in (perceived) importance and complexity in relation to the time allotted for it's completion.  It is the magic of the imminent deadline."  So the challenge is to both limit tasks to the important to shorten work time, and shorten work time to limit tasks to the important.  Ferriss suggests identifying "the few critical tasks that contribute most to income and schedule them with very short and clear deadlines."

I think that this is a way of thinking I could use in how I approach getting things done around the house.  Not terribly exciting, not income-based as such (although if I can free up some time I could perhaps put it to use to some sort of income-producing end) but I find I'm starting to look at how I use my time and what will get me the most bang for my buck, in terms of either freeing up time or making me happier.  For the most part, this involves using my time to better organize my home and get rid of stuff we don't need, all towards the goal of making our days run more efficiently.  Less time looking for things, more time putting together systems that will make things easier to find, for example.  

Ferriss also makes a number of recommendations towards "cultivating selective ignorance", that is, learning to "ignore or redirect all information and interruptions that are irrelevant, unimportant, or unactionable.  Most are all three."  To this end he suggests developing a "low information diet" by cutting way down on all media and email that is not "immediate and important".  In terms of application to my life, I find that at home, despite how busy I am with the girls, it is too easy to spend time unnecessarily surfing around online to no productive end.  I catch myself doing it now, and give some thought to what purpose it is serving.  Which isn't to say that something can't be done unless it is productive - it can certainly be relaxing and entertaining to surf websites or flip through a magazine and that's fine - but I think I just need to be more conscious about it.

One of his suggestions I really like is to "practice the art of non-finishing".  He points out that "starting something doesn't automatically justify finishing it."  I'm definitely guilty of sticking with something that is completely unproductive and/or boring simply because I have some sense of commitment to it.  Even if it's a bad movie, I feel like I need to actually watch to the end.  Of course I don't.  My time is precious. 

If nothing else, this book has helped me get back in touch with that fact, that my time is worth something, and I find I am now turning a critical eye to everything vying for that time.  I don't work for money but I suppose the income I seek is time with my family and our happiness.  If a certain task won't give me one of the two, in the short or long term, then I don't need it.  And I ask myself a lot, "Is this worth the time I'm giving it?"  For example, I was hemming and hawing all summer about whether or not I should hold a yard sale, and I decided in the end that the money I might gain from it was not worth the time and energy I would have to put into organizing it.  Likewise, I usually trot myself all around town comparing prices on items to get the best bargain, and I'm starting to realize that the time I'm spending doing so is often worth more than the money I'm saving (not to mention that I'm using up gas travelling here and there, which might actually negate any savings).  These are not earth-shattering ideas by any means but I have found it empowering to recognize value, and even monetary value, in my own time and energy.

Ferriss goes on to talk in depth about how to create a business which generates automatic income with very little work, and how to up your productivity so you can work less and liberate yourself from the office so you can be mobile and pursue your own dreams.  As I said, I can't speak to the method's success myself, but Ferriss provides success stories from many varied people, and references his own work and lifestyle, running a multinational firm working only 4 hours a week, including checking email only once per week, which has allowed him to pursue such things as training to compete in the Tango World Championship, scuba diving in Panama, and motorcycle racing.  It is all rather inspiring and I can see why the book has become a bestseller.

From the point of view of content, I wish that he had written a little more about the experience of couples and families who have used his method.  I certainly don't fault him for writing it from his point of view, that being a single young man working in a fairly technology-driven job, because that's the perspective he's coming from, but I think it would be interesting to look at how things are complicated by attempting to follow the method when two or more people (with two or more sets of goals and ways of doing things and personalities) are at play, and also how such a method could be adapted for those who may not be able to make their job mobile (i.e. direct in-person customer/client care type work...nursing comes to mind).  There are some anecdotes from couples and families included, but I think that he could broaden his readership even more by taking that next step.

Although The 4-Hour Work Week is a very different kind of book than I have in mind to write, I can take away from it some ideas for successful writing all the same.  I like that Ferriss is unapologetically himself.  There's a definite feel that he has written exactly the way he speaks, and is not attempting to intellectualize anything, and I appreciated that as a reader and would like to be able to speak with the same directness and honesty both in my writing and in real life, frankly.  I think in a "how-to" advice-type book, as this is, it is important that the reader feel that the writer isn't trying to scam them, and is coming from a genuine place that is not far different from their own, and I think that his writing is so infused with his own personality and sense of humour that he puts the reader at ease.  He is, mind you, a tad glib at times but he is also very upfront about his own failures and that can't fail (ha ha) to win people over.  His writing is also to the point and clear; in fact, it seems he has really just taken his own advice, and cut out anything that is not immediate and important.  I like that.  I have things to do.

All in all, a good read and I would definitely recommend it.  Incidentally, he has also written a book called The 4-Hour Body; my husband has been following the diet and workout plan therein to great success, looking and feeling better than he has in ages.  If Ferriss could now just write The 4-Hour House we'd be all set.

Oh, and another thing I learned from this book: "workweek" is an actual compound word.  Who knew?