There's something about Caitlin

Hey there, Caitlin. You know who you are. But allow me to introduce you to my 5 or 6 other faithful blog readers.

Caitlin, my friends, is a lovely work colleague of mine who happened upon my blog quite innocently while doing some United Way research. When her discovery was revealed to me, I admit I had a momentary panic attack about the damage my trash talk might have on my career. But my fears were fleeting whenI quickly realized that 1) I really have no secrets and 2) I only have good things to say about United Way.

But I couldn't let the girl get away with this knowledge she now has of me without a little tit for tat, if you know what I'm sayin'. So I figured I'd tell the world a little bit about her (mainly because she's an interesting gal).

Caitlin is quite simply the epitome of style and quite frankly, I have a love/hate relationship with her. There are a very small number of people in this world who have a consummate sense of style (Ali McGraw, Jackie Kennedy and Katherine Hepburn are among this elite and gifted group). Little Miss Caitlin is one of them. Terms like "smart", "put together", "crisp", "classic" and "radiant" spring to mind when I see this girl make an entrance. Combine this gift for style with the most perfect head of raven-coloured curls and skin that looks like a child's cheeks fresh from a romp in the fall leaves, and well--- you can see where the hate part comes in. The girl is perfection. Oh, and did I fail to mention that she's as bright as a light and not the least bit pretentious. I guess that's where the love comes in.

*Above you'll see the unmatched beauty of Ali MacGraw--- a woman who doesn't even try to be stylish. She just is. And that, my friends, is half the art of being "a Caitlin."

Thyroid be gone!

Yes, friends. It's true. I lost 28 grams just over a week ago and I didn't need any help from Weight Watchers. Instead, I had my thyroid surgically removed (is there any other way??).

I don't recommend the experience to anyone seeking a little attention. There are better ways to get free mags and ice cream, I can assure you.

The real reason for this nasty procedure was purely precautionary. I had a 2.3 cm growth that had indicated a presence of what's known as Heurthle cells. These can be an indicator of cancer, although 95% of growths removed in these cases are benign so I'm not too concerned. I'll be getting the details of the pathology report this Thursday and I can finally put this thing to bed.

I'm happy to report that the summer has lots of fun in store for Don and I and we're not going to let infertility ruin it. Among the many things we have planned are the following:

• Seeing famed jazz pianist Dave Brubeck in concert at Massey Hall
• Catching a Blue Jays game with my folks
• A two-day trip to Stratford where we'll be staying at this lovely B&B and seeing The Glass Menagerie on stage
• 2 days at my uncle Jim's cottage in the Thousand Islands (this is particularly exciting because Don has never had the qunitessential Ontario cottage experience)
• A day trip to Centre Island
• The big move to our new house
• And last but not least, welcoming our dear friends Sarah and Tony to Toronto where Sarah will be immersing herself in academia and Tony will be embarking on a new chapter in his life as an artist. Can't wait!

Today was my first day back at work after the surgery. Went pretty well, I must say.

Because I'd spent the last 10 days holed up up in either the hospital or condo, my body was in desperate need of some exercise come the weekend, so Don and I took in a little High Park. Witness the green-y wilderness in this shot taken on Sunday.

I needed a little Cali to get my blogging ass in gear

Yes, I've been a touch off the map this past month. Maybe I just needed some quiet time to mourn the passing of Jane Jacobs. Or maybe, just maybe, I needed a little L.A. action to put life in perspective. (On that note, ponder this: why are reality shows produced in the most unreal place in the universe?)

So, Don and I just returned from a 5 day trip to California. I'd never been so it was quite the eye opening experience. We stayed at the Hotel California (replete with surfboards for headboards and the requisite cockroach). To its credit, we were steps from the Santa Monica Pier and pretty much everything else we needed to feel like an honorary Californian for a few days.

It was our good friend Bill's wedding that brought us there. Bill is a tranplanted Albertan who makes his living as an animator in Hollywood. His latest work? Garfield II: A Tail of Two Kitties.
Anyway, it was a lovely affair held at a ranch in Malibu. Weather was perfect. Vows were refreshingly unconventional. Good times were had. In fact, good times were made even better by the fact that the Oilers won the Western Conference Semi Finals. GOILERS!!!!

Sadly, the only celeb we spotted was American Idol's 2nd runner-up, Chris Daughtry. I was hoping I'd spot Peter Krause or Zach Braff. But no---they just didn't feel like having a mocha espresso bean blend at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf that day. I'm guessing they don't shop at Macy's either.

The Death and Life of Great Canadian Jane Jacobs

Today we lost one of the few idols in my life---Jane Jacobs. Urban planning genious. Author of my all time favourite piece of non-fiction, The Death and Life of Great American Cities. A New Yorker who transplanted herself in Toronto's Annex District in 1969, she was a trailblazer against the bulldozer. A lover of neighbourhoods in their most genuine, organic form. A staunch opponent of thoughtless development rooted in the almighty buck. And perhaps most important of all, an idealist with great faith in the strength of individuals and their ability to collectively make a difference in the world around them.

She was a rebel with a cause and I'm glad she graced our planet.

Bye neighbour.

Happy birthday, Granny.

This lovely photo is of my Granny. She celebrated her 80th birthday on April 6, 2006.

She's a special woman and in many ways, the "anti-granny". Not a knitter or a baker or a bridge player. Instead, she's a nature enthusiast, an artist, a voracious reader, a natural athlete who still walks at very brisk pace, and intelligent like you wouldn't believe.

I love this picture. It somehow seems so contemporary. It exudes confidence and even has a strangely feminist quality about it. Taking charge behind the wheel, not giving a shit about her hair. I just love it.

Happy birthday, Granny. You're a one-of-a-kind.

She's back!

Good news. I've risen from my month-long blog slumber and this means I have lots to share.

I left you all with a rather dreary entry that made some of you wonder if perhaps I'd lost my marbles. More good news. I'm ok.

I had one small victory on the baby-making front this past few weeks. I ovulated. For all I know, this is the first time I've ovulated in several months or even years. The RBU was keeping a close watch on my cycles and I ended up with 2 mature follicles. Don gave me an HCG shot on the day they were ripe for release and we crossed our fingers. I had every reason to be optimistic. Hell, I even had the potential for two eggs, which could have meant twins! My temp remained elevated for 14 days after ovulation and this was a good sign. I went in for my blood test yesterday and was bummed to discover that it was negative. So, now I wait impatiently for Aunt Flo and begin psyching myself for another round of reproductive Russian roulette.

This next round will be our most aggressive yet. In addition to the Clomid and Metformin, I'll be doing self-injectables from Day 3 until I ovulate. I'm also taking part in a PCOS research study that uses a new drug. AND, we're going to do artificial insemination on top of all this.

Everyone is asking why I want to throw in the towel after this next round and the answer is pretty simple. It's an emotional roller coaster that's taking its toll on me. Bottom line, we want a child in our lives. We're not getting any younger and you have to ask yourself, "When is enough enough?" So we're meeting with the social worker (recommended to us by a friend) on Monday. She will be the woman that administers our homestudy for adoption. This alone can take up to 6 months.

I just hope the stars align in the next year and we're well on our way to becoming parents.

So, my thyroidectomy has been scheduled for June 15th. The whole thing is being removed and I'll be on thyroid medication for the rest of my life. I'm really not that nervous about it.

The really, truly good news in my life is that I got hired by the United Way of Greater Toronto yesterday. Permanent, full-time with great benefits. It's a marketing manager position. I start on April 19th and I can't wait.

*The above photo is my Granny and Mom. Both of them had babies. Why can't I?

Hey Eeyore, wanna do lunch? I hear misery loves company.

Sorry for the longer than usual break between entries. Life has been a touch chaotic of late and finding time for peaceful reflection has been difficult. The fact that I've had a twitching eye for the past 10 days is a bit of a wake-up call.

Ever get the feeling that your head is too crammed with stuff to actually do anything satisfying or productive with yourself? That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. Not a good feeling. Contemplating another move, battling infertility, biopsies for thyroid cancer, having a Mom in the throes of chemo, quitting a job, starting a new job, being told you’re at high risk for type 2 diabetes, undergoing the adoption process, learning how to sew, joining Weight Watchers… well, you can see why I’m swimming in circles.

The logical thing to do is erase a few of these things off the list and allow myself to focus on just a couple. So, here’s what I’ve arrived at:

1. Stop worrying about the move. Stay away from MLS, cease the daily prospect listings from our agent for the time being and limit the condo selling efforts to a poster in our lobby.
   
2. Join Weight Watchers again starting this Saturday. Self-esteem and motivation is at an all-time low and it’s due largely to the weight gain sitch.
   
3. Focus on having a good interview with the United Way on April 3rd.
   
4. Know that thyroid surgery won’t likely happen until the summer anyway
   
5. Have one last consult with the RBU at Mt.Sinai before we start the adoption process (which I will discuss in greater detail at a later date)
   
6. Find the joy in doing 3 hours of sewing every Saturday morning for the next 6 weeks
   
   I think this is relatively sane and reasonable. We shall see.

For fast acting relief, try slowing down

What a great little saying, coined by the wry Lily Tomlin. Duly noted, Lily.

I have only one reason to post today. The weather was glorious! Mother nature's magical elixir of tweeting birds, thawing grass and intoxicatingly fresh air was truly heaven sent. Don and I went for a long afternoon walk in my numero uno neighbourhood of choice to buy a house. Roncesvalles Village. We stopped in at Daddy-O's Milk Bar and got a tasty espresso milk shake titled "Little Green Men from Mars" to go. Up and down the blocks we went. Even the names of the streets put a smile on my face. Constance Ave. Garden Ave. And our favourite--Marmaduke Ave.

Gee, have I bothered to announce that Don and I are selling our condo? Well, we are and we're trying to do it privately, so we can bank as much moola as possible to put towards a house.

Today when we got home, I decided to do something a little left of centre in the world of househunting. I drafted a letter that I plan to put in the mailboxes of about 50 homes in the Roncy area. The plan is to buy some nice stationery and role it up like a diploma with some pretty ribbon and cross our fingers that the yocals can give us the inside scoop. Here's how the little note reads:

March 18, 2006

Hello,

Our names are Don and Sarah Banks and we’re interested in buying a home in the Roncesvalles Village/Parkdale/High Park area.

We currently live in a condo at Bloor and High Park but have our hearts set on finding a home in your area. The market, as we’re sure you know already, is very competitive and that is why we’re trying to “think outside the box” on how to find a home we can see ourselves living in.

If you or anyone you know is thinking of selling their home in the near future, we’d greatly appreciate you passing along our contact info.

Ideally, we are seeking the following:

· 3 bedrooms
· 2 bathrooms
· older character
· plenty of sun
· parking space

We’re prepared to take on a home that needs a reasonable amount of work but we’re keen to find a house with “good bones.”

Depending on the condition of the house, we are looking at paying between $325 and $375K.

We’re fairly flexible on the possession date but would like to move in by late summer, early fall. We greatly appreciate whatever insight or tips you can give us.

Many thanks.

Don and Sarah Banks
Ph: 416-766-0512
don.sarah.banks@gmail.com

Sarah too?

Sarah too? was a phrase made popular by yours truly when I was about 2 years old. It would innocently fall from my lips whenever an adult was doing something that I *too* wanted to participate in. Be it wrapping Xmas presents or a trip to the beer store, I was sure to chime in.

Ironic, that as a full grown adult, I now say this to myself silently whenever I see a woman who has conceived with the greatest of ease.

*Above is a shot of my Mom and Dad holding me up in Peterborough. I'm about 10 months old.
According to Don, I look like a little dolly. I won't argue with him.

Cease and de-cyst!

You can imagine my disbelief when I was told that both of my ovaries were "quiet" today. To my ignorant ear, quiet was just another way of saying useless, but I soon learned that quiet was a good thing. Quiet means they're cyst-free! And essentially ripe for follicle growth!

This cycle, they're upping the Clomid to 150mgs, day 3-7, I'll have the 1500mgs of Metformin and I'll be giving myself a gonadtrophin hormone shot when the egg release time is right.

This past week or so, I felt like I was living in a cave. Learning of my quiet egg makers has made me want to poke my nose out and get some fresh air.

The Gathering

I feel like I have a lot to talk about but I'm stupefyingly tired for some reason, so I make no guarantees on the validity or entertainment value of my virtual spew.

Last night I had a memorable get-together with old friends (you know who you are). Lots of wine and nostalgia and some priceless moments of nose-snorting hilarity. And yet for all its gaeity, I also caught myself very aware of the more serious elements of the gathering. I wouldn't call it sentimentality. It was more of a tender reminder of how short life is, how life has a way of becoming more complicated as we age and how these casual pow-wows are perhaps more important than we realize.

After 5 short hours of heavenly conversation and heartwarming self-reflection, I made my way to the subway. I consciously relished my reverie in -12 temperatures. "This slice of my life," I thought to myself, "has made me somehow better. Forever."

He likes playing doctor

That is the salacious tagline on the cover of this month's Details magazine. The man they're referring to is the tantalizing Patrick Dempsey---perhaps most famous for Can't Buy Me Love, but I remember him for his performance as the wayward brother in Coupe de Ville, a wonderful sleeper of a movie that also stars Alan Arkin and Daniel Stern.

But I won't bore you with that. I really just wanted say how HOT I thought this photo spread was. You can see it for yourself. It's pretty amazing, this 11th hour fame in his late thirties. I thought for sure he was destined for the dusty archives of Teen Beat magazine.

So, I guess I haven't been "bringing up baby" much lately. I suppose it's because we're in that insufferably long period that occurs post-unsuccessful ovulation and pre-Cycle Day 1, when the fun begins all over again.

I took my Day 40 temperature today, examined my *so not* textbook example of an ovulation chart and decided to retire the tongue wand to my bedside table drawer. And besides, they only give you 40 days to chart. That's as "abnormal" as they let your cycle get.

I've decided I can't do this reproductive crapshoot much longer. 3 more cycles and then we move onto adoption. Thankfully, Don is cool with this. Three more cycles translates to about 5 more months which brings us to late July. So if my baby bottle is half full, it's possible with could have a little one by next summer. Biological or otherwise---we could very well have a small creature with more demands than our cat.

TV, why do I love you so?

Damn you TV!! You've done it again. Lured me in with American Idol.

Only this time it's different. There's a certifiably talented, seemingly bright, definitely attractive contestant that has me bewitched and bewildered with his old school ways.

Taylor Hicks is his name and blue-eyed soul is his game. He's a 29-year old white boy from Alabama with premature grey hair and a voice that harkens back to the days of Sam Cooke, Otis Redding and Ray Charles. I can't help but compare him to Michael McDonald, who I LOVE.

So, I have no choice. I *must* tune in to see what this mysterious, alluring anomaly will surprise me with next.

While we're on the subject of TV, is it odd that I depend on Breakfast Television on CityTV every morning? Kevin Frankish and friends have this comfy old sweater feel that I've grown to love. Frank the Weather Boy is particularly cute in that "let's go have a beer and talk trash about our co-workers" kind of way. At least that's the sense I get about him.

Enough talking. Trash.

*Above pic is of the captivating Taylor Hicks. The only reason I'll be watching Idol this season.
"I get my kicks on cute Taylor Hicks." (I made that up myself).

Priddy fleurs

My boy came home with a pot of tulips for me today.

I gave him a card with 2 bunnies on it. Inside, it said "Some bunny loves you."

I love how love can make even the most serious, sensible, cynical person all silly and gooey.

Back on top

Ok, so I'm not back on top, but I'm definitely not feeling like I'm scraping the bottle of the barrel like I was a week ago.

Things have eased off a bit at work (at least for now) and my urge to go postal has subsided.

This past week was relatively average. Celebrated my 34th birthday with a nice dinner at BOHO in Roncesvalles Village, threw in the towel on my baby-making cycle and chalked it up to yet another "learning experience.", watched the 2-parter "Bazooka episode" of Grey's Anatomy, went to Buffalo with my loverboy to catch a Sabres game, tried to live by the G.I. Way (and failed in Buffalo with the complimentary breakie at the hotel and a double fudge brownie sundae at the hockey game)....

Oh yeah, and I got meself an iPod Nano. Yippee. I revel in its beauty every day.

*Above is a pic of me taken outside the HSBC arena in Buffalo and one of Don at the game.

No. Clever. Headlines.

Just a quick note to say that I'm over run by the demands of my crazy 9-5 life and I don't know how people do it. One year off from the classic grind and I seem to have forgotten what a soul sucker it can be.

Actually, I think it's just a case of being hired for job that's actually meant for 2 people. I'm a bloody deck hand at this job. My perpetual to-do list has 19 items on it and roughly 6 of them are a high priority. I'm mopping the proverbial deck day in, day out.

I'm exhausted.

Did I mention tomorrow is my 34th birthday? Did I mention I have my first ever appointment with a nutritionist tomorrow?

All I want is a piece of triple layer chocolate cake and a glass of cold milk.

Approximately 2 in 5 Canadians...

... will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime. I've had this fact drilled into me during my first three weeks on the job at the Cancer Society.

Hailing from an immediate family of 5, I can safely say we're well on our way to proving this statistic correct. My dear Mom, as I've touched on in past posts, learned she had the disease just a couple of months ago. As I type this, chances are good that she's tentatively pulling the hair out of her head with the greatest of ease. No stinging. No snapping. Just a smooth exit. Hair that, in many ways, has defined her all these years. The long, glossy Breck Girl hair of the 60's. The shiny Dorothy Hamill of the 70's. The tortoise shell barettes of the 80's. And that chocolatey chestnut tone I've always envied.

She's going in for round 2 of chemo next week and they say her hair will likely be gone by that point. No matter how you cut it or coat it, this is one of the most harrowing aspects of being a cancer patient. And the truth is, you really can't know how it feels unless it's your own hair that's falling out.

I'm extremely proud of my Mom's courage. This experience that she's going through is inherently frightening and yet she's remained my same old Mom since she got the news. Naturally, she's had a few teary moments of weakness but who can blame her.

*The above photo of Mom was taken circa 1976. You can see she's picked a wild flower (looks like Golden Rod or maybe Indian Paintbrush)) and tucked it into her zipper hole. No doubt, I was sitting right next to her with a flower of my own that she had gingerly affixed to my zipper too.

Condo boom or societal shift in urban living?

The last few weeks, I've encountered a number of articles discussing the proliferation of condos in Toronto. Don and I are continously waffling about our next steps in the world of real estate, so any external validation of our current station in life is welcome. That's why I enjoyed reading that "Toronto parents are learning what New Yorkers and Parisians have long known: no backyard needed." - National Post, Saturday, January 28th, 2006

The reason? Because the City is their backyard. I couldn't agree more.

Of course this doesn't mean we're married to the idea of condo life with chilluns, but it does add some weight to the possibility...

Yes, it's true. A house is a different beast that has a few plusses over the condo. Backyards, basements, attics, cubbyholes and alcoves, front porches, street hockey, trick-or-treating... and that's all good. That's what I grew up with. And if we could afford a nice 2 story brick house in Bloor West Village or Roncesvalles Village, we'd buy it in a snap. But the truth is---if we want all that, we'd have to make sacrifices---namely in terms of location. The idea of Port Credit or Lakeshore Village (south Etobicoke) has crossed our minds more than once. But then we think about what we'd lose...

High Park a mere 3 minute walk away, the exhilaration of the "Red Rocket" whizzing into the station or streaming along Roncesvalles, the Polish bakeries, the weekend brunch culture, the glee of grabbing an Eye Weekly or NOW as you hop on the subway, the organic food market in High Park, the street festivals, the intermingling of different languages on the streets, in the restaurants, on the bus... the omnipresent CN Tower, the sound of plates smashing on a hot summer night on the Danforth, the unpredicatable nature of independent business springing up---often in a clever, new fashion using old space---breathing life into this addictive organism that doesn't stop giving...

These are things I love and would want to share with my child. I'm just not sure I'd find them in a big house at the southern tip of Mississauga...

*The pic above was taken last October. Taking a coffee break in High Park---right after we visited the High Park Zoo. Yes, it's true. We have a zoo that's a 10 minute walk from our condo.

A pile of inspiration

Finally managed to fix our computer, so I can post the pic of the fabric and mags that I hope to do something crafty with.

Tomorrow is my first pay day on the new job. Might just have to reward myself with a trip to the St. Lawrence flea market on Sunday...

Another day, another dollar

Feeling a bit sluggish at work the last few days. Physically and mentally. Not a good time for such feelings. This is a new job, must make good impression, I tell myself. (Look, I'm speaking in fragment sentences. Even my writing is sluggish).

Maybe I have a case of circumstantial depression brought on by the fact that our new leader is Stephen Harper. Yeah, that must be it. I'm sure i'm not the only one that's come down with this "bug."

So I'm on the 1500mgs of Metformin. Three a day with meals. Thankfully, I've experienced zero side effects. I'm on day 12, so weez be gittin' down to bidness in a few more days.