Tell me more, tell me more (like does he have a car?)

One of the best parts about being not only an older sister, but an older sister in a couple, is hearing the adventures of the baby's dating life. Though dating is not always a fun endeavor, it's fun to be told swoon-worthy stories of cute boys and adventures with them.

After waking up yesterday to a text message telling me to check my Facebook mailbox for details, I've been looking forward to the "what's next" of Kaye's dating life. Ahhh, the excitement. So far, nerdy engineering boy + Guitar Hero = much potential. I should know, that's how my relationship started out (though it was Rock Band).

All I have to offer Kaye in return for her stories, is this article. These women are doing amazing, very important work. Even more important is that they're doing it without judging. Their concern is for the health of these women during their pregnancies and the health of their babies.

Using $95,000 from the Public Health Agency of Canada, a part-time nurse and two street-smart outreach workers find homeless, pregnant women. They help them get medical care and test them for syphilis to prevent the sexually transmitted disease from making their babies sick.

It's a very interesting, very insightful article. I fully recommend it.

Why dating blows...

...and why it's a world I never want to ever go back to (that, and you know, I love the Boy).

Spawned from a conversation today with a good friend.

This is why dating blows. It's not so much the meeting people or even the games as it is all the little hits that your ego takes while people reject you. You know they're not the right person because of it and each hit is only tiny but they add up and make it hard to be strong. It's why I appreciate the great people in my life, like you, because they make it easier to stand tall. I'll find my man but I'm not worried about it because I'm not alone.

Each little hit builds up to something so big that makes you question everything about your self and wonder if you'll ever find that Prince Charming. It has the ability to take you from a strong, confident, intelligent woman to a babbling maniac who constantly complains that no man will ever love you. It creates cat ladies. It makes you feel like you have no one to depend on, even when you don't need anyone to depend on but yourself.

It's why you need good friends to remind you how fabulous you are.

Speak out Edmonton! (All others, sign the petition)

I received this poster, and the information that follows, this afternoon from my friend Z. I believe I've commented on Omar Khadr before, and if this is something that you believe in, please act by either signing the petition or attending the event on Saturday (or both!).

Z's boss, Satya Das, was approached by Omar Khadr's lawyer, Dennis Edney, to put together a petition to bring Omar home. Satya is doing this pro bono.

If you do not know who Omar is, watch this.

This petition is not about whether Omar is innocent or guilty. This is about requesting that the Canadian government bring him home to Canada as soon as possible so that Canada can deal with the situation appropriately. It's about human rights. Protecting the same human rights all Canadians share, Omar included.

Here's the petition.

I'm going to hell, but the image in my head was just too much

Dr. Grinch says: I was just out on my longboard for 15 mins
Dr. Grinch says: It's beautiful out today
Dr. Grinch says: I was in a Tshirt
Dr. Grinch says: I rode past some lady out walking and she goes "Good For You!" in a really excited tone
Dr. Grinch says: I felt like a retarded kid she just saw mopping the floor at McDonalds
Elle says: Oh, I literally laughed out loud right there.
Elle says: It was a girlish giggle, you'd have enjoyed it.
Elle says: The kind where you're trying not to laugh, but it just bubbles right out.
Dr. Grinch says: I'm glad you find my seemingly "Life Goes On" features amusing

Dream on!

Crouched over my desk, a pile of loose-leaf papers covering it's surface, re-writing stories and poems, both those I wrote and those that were my favourites, I had grand aspirations that someday my name would be on the best-sellers list. Even though I was too afraid to let anyone read what I wrote, other than my grade 10 English writing teacher, I wanted to be a writer someday.

It was only yesterday, on my walk home from work that I realized that the title on my business cards is exactly that. I am a writer. Certainly not the type who will ever reach any kind of best-sellers list. Not even the type who gets their name published on what comes out of their pen, or keyboard keys. But I do get paid a living to write.

I know now that my skills aren't ones that would lead me to published works. That I would rather work in a publishing house editing the great works of others than write them myself.

Regardless, it's a good thing to have your young-girl dreams come true.