Zsolt becomes Canadian

Guess who became Canadian? Zsolt!

It’s been a ridiculous week, but one wonderful silver lining was my husband gaining his Canadian citizenship. It’s surreal. I was half outta my head with fever this week, but still went to the ceremony because you cannot miss your husband becoming CANADIAN.

Please help me welcome him to Canada. Congratulations, Zsolt!

And thanks to mom, dad and David who were at the ceremony, too.

xoxox! Catherine


Broken glass

Of course I miss my grandmother. It’s been years since she passed away, but I miss her still. I’m sure we all do, when we stop and realize it. Though it’s not often I stop to realize too many things. Not stopping is a bit of a coping mechanism, you might say. Or maybe you’d say defense mechanism. I guess I’ll just call it ‘my mechanism.’

Anyhow, so, it wasn’t long after we finally moved to Canada for keeps that Lulu passed. She was staying at my aunt’s cottage, and I had the good fortune to spend many days with her and my aunt. Zsolt and I would go up to keep them company, because it can become lonely in the middle of the forest. Then one day, she was in pain, and there was an ambulance, and then suddenly she was gone.

But that was then.

As I said, we had finally moved to Canada, and Zsolt and I were setting up our home. So, much of Lulu’s things came to us. We had her two sofas that were straight from the 90s, we got the stack of lovely plates with the sunflower pattern, we received her old record player and some lovely music, and, among other things, we received some lovely glasses with a light etching of a flower.

Back when I was a kid, we’d visit Lulu at her apartment in Montreal where all these things once lived. And while visiting, she’d offer us a Pepsi. Since our household in Ottawa never had such an abundance of pop – of course it was nice to have a Pepsi at Lulu’s apartment. But she didn’t serve the Pepsi in its can. Instead, she’d pour it into a glass.

And that’s what I think about when I look at those glasses. Or maybe, rather, that’s what I feel. I feel her and her Pepsi, and how it was to visit. I was a kid, keep in mind, so the visits were mostly totally boring – at least until I grew up. But still, it was a good feeling to be there in those moments.

Anyhow, the thing about glass is that – you know – it breaks.

Fact: my cupboard is filled with MUGS because I don’t buy glasses. They drop and shatter and it’s a catastrophe. But when there was a chance to take Lulu’s glasses, I went for it. We’ve been enjoying them for the past few years. And somehow, they keep her in my mind.

Unfortunately, as I said, glass breaks. One by one Lulu’s glasses broke. There were only a few, and then there were fewer. After tonight there are now officially none.

The last glass broke this evening.

I had no idea, apparently, how much they mattered to me. As soon as I realized the last glass was gone, I just blubbered like you wouldn’t believe. Like, ridiculous. Zsolt thought I had gone crazy. But you know, somehow she was suddenly more gone than she had been only moments before. Or maybe it just reminded me that we had lost her. Or maybe . . . I don’t know, maybe too many things have been held inside and pushed away through my mechanisms.

So I cried for the glass, and I cried for my grandmother – and I cried because sometimes it’s just better to let everything out. It’s not that the world is terrible, or life is crazy, or I’m uncomfortable. None of those apply. It’s just that the tears started and would not stop.

I think we’ve had many reasons to cry lately. From internal struggles, body issues, to real world horrors. There have been reasons to cry. And yet the tears have been held back…… but emotions don’t dissipate simply because I prefer to ignore them. They apparently wait. They wait, and then, when the last glass shatters, they finally unleash.

There’s no moral here, this is just a story. Just one story. And I have other cups – I have mugs made by family, and champagne flutes given by friends, and tea cups from my mother-in-law, and cups from England, and many wonderful things all around. It’s nice to look upon an object and remember that love lays behind it. If nothing else, I was reminded of that tonight, and reminded of my grandmother. Even if I cried, I cried for her – and it was very much a needed physical relief.


Lulu, wherever and whatever you are, I hope it’s good. I hope it’s very, very, very good.




Wanted: Bloggers

Imagine you wrote a blog post one day, then the next day you were dragged from your home and taken away. No fair trial, just gone. Maybe worse. Probably worse. That happens; it happens way too often. I figure, bloggers should look out for other bloggers. And so, I’m looking for folks interested in helping share a post about Amnesty’s Write-a-thon. You can pick a case you care about from this website, and I’ll send you some material to help showcase why writing letters matters so much.

Amnesty International is hosting a world wide letter writing event on December 10th. This is a day where thousands upon thousands upon thousand of people write letters on behalf of others who have sufferings that make my little stories look easy. I’m talking about being imprisoned for blogging, for tweeting an opinion, for daring to defend another’s right to express, and so much more.

’cause seriously, imagine if you could be jailed and flogged fro writing your thoughts in a blog post? Imagine that. Except that it’s almost impossible to truly imagine because it’s simply horrible, and thankfully many reading this post won’t live in that kind of world. If you’d like to help create change for those who do, let em know and I’ll give you the 411 on a post. Leave a comment, and I’ll message you to follow up.

Don’t have a blog? You can still sign up and write some letters. You can still tweet out about the event. You can still draw pictures for Zunar the cartoonist for Instagram. You can still do quite a bit  – and as a group, we can help create change.


That’s it from me. Thanks for reading my post. Have a lovely day :)