ashleybristowe.com

Saturday, October 18, 2008

And... We're Back (For Now)

It's been a long time since postings here at the Footrace. There've been some on & off technical glitches with our server, mostly with our provider endlessly re-setting our IP addresses. So when this happens the blog goes down, the Geography of Hope website goes down, the Johnny Hopalong blog of my brother's adventures post-achilles-tendon-rupture blog goes down, and in general everyone sits around stewing in their own Telus-hating juices. For the record, the Planet Simpson website's problems are not related to this IP stuff and, as one or two devoted fans out there may have noted, it is (still, perpetually, somehow irretrievably) down. And so what else is new, etc.

But, we're going to try to clear some of the backlog. Starting with Grandma's memorial, in Victoria, in August. Frankly a grand time was had by all and it was a hell of a weekend. For relatives who die, I really recommend a) having a funeral, b) telling lots of stories, and c) waiting until summertime if someone dies in January.

Photosets are now up on Flickr and Facebook.

(Ok Jess you can shaddap now, I put them online! Happy?)

Categories: Family

Thursday, September 25, 2008

All Hail The McSweeney'sness

Y'know, me & Turner liked the McSweeney's superhero supply store near our Park Slope digs, and the hipsters who run the place were awesome at showing Sloane the gadgets and gizmos especially for children. But guess who got the most out of 352 5th St?

Yessir, Super Brucio!

Categories: Family

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Lobster Fest!

"We" here at ashleybristowe.com are a bit behind in the postings. So for your viewing pleasure, a photo from March. Gramma Margo came out to Calgary for Sloane's birthday, and she brought a whole schwack of live lobster with her direct from Nova Scotia. What to do but hold a big ol' Bristowe Turner Lobster Boil.

Dada? Dada? Dada?

Categories: Family | Sloane

Monday, January 21, 2008

Goodbye, Grandma Kay

Received last night from Aunt Jacqueline Jane of Canmore, a really lovely tribute to Grandma:

Dear Nieces, family, and girlfriends,

Early this morning, my dear old mom left this world peacefully in her sleep. I shall miss her terribly, I loved her dearly. She was well taken care of by the staff at St Mary's Hospital in Victoria and I am deeply grateful to them as well as to Alan and his family. They couldn't have treated her with more respect and dignity.

Some of you knew her well and others only met her on occasion. She was truly one of the most remarkable human beings, aside from yourselves, that I have met in this lfietime. In her teens, she nursed her own mother who had cancer until she died, but still managed to graduate with honors. She then went on to Montreal to train at the Royal Victoria Hospital in gynecology and obstetrics with very little support from her father from what I could gather. I think she would have liked to have been a doctor.

Eventually she met her musican husband with whom she had six children. By the time, Larry and I were started school, she went back to work the NIGHT shift, can you imagine, while bringing up her family and dealing with her alcoholic passive husband ( my dear old dad ). She got off us to school in the morning, did some chores, slept until 5:00, made dinner, rested a bit, then drove herself into Montreal. She fought constantly for her nurses and for better working conditions, but she loved it all.

One stormy winter morning coming back from the hospital, she was marooned in a snow bank. The snow soon buried her, but she took off her yellow scarf and tied it around her antenna. Some guy came along (much later) in a snowmobile and rescued her. Apparently, so many people were stranded that day that she opted to be left at a nearby warehouse where she rolled herself up in a carpet, slept a few hours, got on the metro and made her shift at the hospital the next night! Can you believe that!

She continued to work at the hospital and in the community as well as occasionally host the university women's book club chats about philosophers. Eventually, we all left the nest and she and Dad moved into some crummy little apt close to the Vic in Montreal. Soon they were able to move off to Victoria where she continued to private nurse. She was in her seventies at this time. Dad developed heart problems and she took care of him until he died in his bed. She really missed Montreal and for the first time in her life admitted to me that she was somewhat depressed about the move. Soon she grew to love Victoria though and eventually met some neat old intellectuals like herself.

My mom led a hard life, but always managed to overcome the biggest obstacles with an iron will and determination. For some, she could be considered extremely opinionated and difficult. But for me, she was the penultimate champion for human rights and especially women's rights. I deeply respected her, even though I may not have always agreed with her.

I hope she is busy planning her next lifetime and that she will be re-born with all her memory in tack, cause she will make one hell of a comeback!

Alan will be arranging an informal family gathering to honour Grandma some time this spring. I love you all, remember to treat your moms with love and kindness.

Love Jackie

Categories: Family

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Grandma, On Her Way

Email received this morning from Brucio, who's just back from a visit out to Victoria to say goodbye to Grandma Kay.

To all,

Your mother or grandmother is fine.

She is passing on in the most graceful of fashions.

She is starving to death. Stick and bones.

Whether this is due to some issue or simply her age and state, I can't say.

She will simply go into renal failure sometime soon and go to sleep.

She is in very comfortable circumstances and Alan and Sam et all, the nurses etc have been wonderful to her. They love here at the home. I think she amuses them as she is so very alert and that is a change from the usual client.

I was very surprised at my own reaction and very pleased that she seemed as always so very bright when awake.

I even tried a shot with a quip of "thanks for showing up" and she responded immediately by a sham objection to Alan as in " did you hear what he said to me?"

Ah mom I love you.

Bruce/Dad

Categories: Family

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Intrepid Al

Saturday night. Sloane's asleep. Not yet time to go to bed.

For the record, I have pretty much every letter I ever received, downstairs in "the archive" (more accurately described perhaps as "the shitpile of stuff"). Went down there tonight, pulled out a box at random. Brucio's just back from Victoria, where Grandma, at age 94 or so, has decided to stop eating, enough is enough and so on. As a result, and obviously, I have been thinking in the last few days about mortality, grandparents, last words, fatal decisions, and legacies.

In the boxes I came quickly upon letters from Nanny, who died last year. My epitaph for her is here. She wrote me lots of letters when she could still see. She was, basically, a storyteller, and a good one. She never wrote her stories down. Except for one. For me. "Intrepid Al", about she and Grampa knocking a wasps' nest out of their backyard tree. Because I asked for it, because it was a hilarious oral story. In her later years, after she was blind, I really begged her to memorize this one (as she had for "The Cremation of Sam McGee" to tell at xmas 2000) so I could record her doing it, for posterity/a freelance CBC piece. She just felt like her time had come and gone and wouldn't do it for me.

So I'm down in the boxes tonight, and I see Nanny's handwriting. She hasn't gone completely blind at this point, I can tell by the script. I pull open the first envelope and there it is: Intrepid Al. Since Grampa's in a home in Nelson and can't object, and since it's a great story anyway, here it is.

Intrepid Al, by Gloria Horbow

We had a beautiful warm spring and our crabapple tree bloomed in great profusion. Then came a heavy frost and winter returned for a brief but deadly visit. Clouds hung low and threatening, and when the snow came it mingled with the beautiful blossoms... and both drifted sadly to the ground. Of course, no fruit grew that year and the leaves were sparse.

One noon hour towards the end of July, as I mixed batter for a pancake brunch, my husaband stood at the kitchen window and while lamenting the lack of apples, something in the tree caught his attention. He asked me if I thought it was a large bird or a smal animal. I couldn't tell, so my golden age gladiator went out to have a closer look. He was amazed to find a wasps' nest, about the size of a football, hanging from one fo the lower limbs.

The wasps were busy doing whatever it is that wasps do, and my mate decided then and there that the nest must go, and right now.

In a previous incident, a long pole was the instrument used to rescue his spectacles from a nearby lake and Al decided it was exactly what was needed to dislodge the quonset hut from its perch. As such he drove quickly to our son-in-law's home and returned carrying the 14 foot pole alongside the car with his left hand out the window, whilst he drove, steering with his right hand.

"Now," he said to me, "you're going to old a garbage bag under the nest while I knock it off the branch and into the bag."

I looked at him in amazement, but being the dutiful wife I occasionally am, I promptly swathed myself in cap, gloves, and scarves for the occasion. I tightened my pants at the ankles and was ready to go forth with my man to do battle against the enemy wasp encampment.

It was a very hot day and sweat poured out of my from heat, fear, and excitement. My knight stood with his jousting pole at the ready while I squinted up through scarves and persperation at the huge nest just a short three feet above my head.

"All set," I squeaked. Alex barely touched the nest with the end of the pole when out the little buzzers swarmed, blood in their eyes and their stingers in strike position.

Somehow, by instinct I guess, they seemed to know the villain of the piece and most flew straight for Al. Our hero dropped the pole and dashed for the back door, leaving me literally holding the bag. I was terrified, disgusted, and fearing for my life. I threw down the sack and stormed for the back door myself.

"To heck with that job, get yourself another method or another sucker!" As you can guess, I get quite waspish myself at times.

It was then that our adventurer decided to place the garbage bag over the metal frame which usually holds it. Now isn't that brilliant? Next, he placed it carefully in position under the nest, where the wasps had retreated to regroup. I stood at the kitchen window peeling off layers of clothing but still a keen observer of the activities outside.

This time intrepid Al was filled with determination and he gave the nest an almighty whack. It flew off the limb, missed the bag completely, sailed through the air and landed with an ominous thump about four feet from the home wrecker himself.

Now a truth, of which you are unaware, is that this man was a sports champion at his high school in 1937, with medals and trophies to prove it. He won the 220 dash, the 44 sprint, the high hurdles, the low hurdles, and all other field day activities. But I'm writing to tell you here that an unofficial world record in the standing broad jump was set on that 1992 summer day right there in my back yard.

Al cleared the 12 feet between the tree and the door in one gigantic leap. Panting inside, he congratulated himself for remaining unscathed and unstung while the hoardes outside the back door swarmed and rioted in anger, frustration and bewilderment.

But. One of the wily creatures, swifter than his buddies, and with the scent of the enemy filling his being, had managed to get through the door with our Al, and was now circling for an opening to strike. Not without reason, this wasp had recently been elevated to drill sergeant. He knew his job and was determined to repay this villain for the humiliation suffered by his comrades.

Suddenly realizing his peril, the agility of a youth returned to this aging athlete in the back hallway. His arms flailed wildly but his legs moved like well-greased pistons. They propelled him up the stairs, across the kitchen, around through the living and dining rooms, and down the hall into the bedroom. With only one place to escape, Sir Al threw back the comforter and prepared to dive under it. All this activity had loosened the lower section of his baggy armour and a goodly stretch of flesh was now exposed.

I arrived at this point, with a skillet in hand, in time to see the wasp drill into my beloved with all the venom he could command. In the next moment I smacked down with all the strength I could muster. A great howl of pain and outrage nearly lifted the roof off our bungalow. While Al clutched a this posterior I beamed triumphantly while the wasp died the death of a hero on the bedside rug.

Meanwhile, back in the yard, unaware they had been somewhat avenged, the wasps again returned to their poor and broken nest for a council of war. They sensed the breaker of their home would be returning with a stinger longer than theirs. A strategy must be devised for a counter-attack.

While this conference was in progress, my husband, disregarding his wound, decided to strike while the weapon was hot. "Now, I'm going back out there, and you're coming too. I'm going to pick up the nest on the end of the pole and plop it into the bag. You be ready with a twist tie to close the top." Now there's a brave fellow for you! I wasn't about to argue. Knowing his tender condition and consequent frame of mind, I geared up again and meekly followed to do his bidding.

And believe it or not, it worked out exactly according to plan. And not one more sting to show for it! (Of course, the one he did get couldn't be shown, either!)

With the nest safely tucked away, my lord of the wasps decided he would give the yellow jackets a few days to expire completely and then present the trophy nest to the young lads next door. They would take it to show-and-tell when school recommenced in September.

The victor is jubilant and, omitting all personal indignities, tells anyone even remotely interested how he slew the dragon wasps.

In the background, I smile knowingly.

Categories: Ash | Canadiana | Family | Olden Days

Monday, January 07, 2008

Xmas photos

Random, photos from a walk in Fish Creek provincial park with the Turner clan.

Sloane and her "walking" stick.

Turners on the wipeout bridge.

Walking with Gramma!

Grampa John cuts Sloaner's first hockey stick down to size in preparation for the next day's skating adventure! Mama's heart is duly cut in half to match. (Mama, she's not a "fan" of hockey, per se.)

Categories: Family

Happy Birthday to John J, John B, and Ainsley!

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

This Just In From Val

People think I make this stuff up, but you CAN'T make this stuff up! I received this email from Val this morning:

People...anyone and everyone, needs somewhere to share their little discoveries and bits of homespun wisdom. I guess wisdom needs to be qualified somewhat as everyone thinks that their little gems are indeed wisdom when in reality they may be just mundane bits of crazyness. There needs to be a place somewhere where we (the people) can write in these little bits of nothingness. I have a plethora of just such stuff as you well know! For example this is what I would add at such a place today:

Today I looked at the white plastic lawn furniture which I purchased about ten years ago. It is in perfect working condition but like most I feel tempted to throw it into the dump as it has discoloured, blackish in some places...and just mucked up in others. In past years I have taken FANTASTIC and a scrub brush to it and although that did improve it - it never turned out that well and I wasn't particularly pleased with the result. I also totally distroyed my manicure in the process. Two weeks ago I had purchased a large plastic bottle of JAVEX. I don't use this down my sink or in my washing machine as my plumber tells me it will destroy the good bacteria in my septic system but I do soak things in it outside and pour the left over water down the driveway later. Earlier I had lined up all the white plasticlawn stuff on my balcony deck quite prepared to take a scrub brush to the old tired white stuff. I took my windex spray bottle and put the windex into a container. Equipped with the spray container I filled it with pure JAVEX and sprayed everything...all the dry white furniture with this. I left it for about two minutes and hosed it off with the garden hose. I was quite prepared to take the whole lot to the dump if it turned the stuff yellow. Well guess what? It came out perfectly, much better than it ever has with the rubbing and scrubbing done years previously. It looks absolutely brand new and the whole affair took exactly 6 minutes.

Is there anywhere on your blog you could have such nonsensical contributions. I actually think it would prove to be an excellent addition for most readers. What do you think?
Love Mum

And a p.s. in regard to the new picture contribution site you have arranged for all of us. Who is the cruel, mean, nasty person that put that noxious, hideous 60th birthday picture of me up for display on that site...complete with pink and silver paper and plastic tiara. Ugh, I look like a dead drunk escapee from a nut house and Michael looks like my keeper. Shame on the contributor, shame on whoever you are. I will eventually find out and I will get you good for this very unpleasant gesture designed to humiliate and destroy any semblence of dignity and personal pride I have. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your airpits.......whoever you are. Shame, I say!

...The picture to which she refers is this one.

Categories: Family

Comments [4]

Monday, May 07, 2007

Happy Birthday to my brother and sister, John & Ainsley. Yes, they're twins. 31 years ago they were born at McKellar Hospital in Thunder Bay, Ontario.

Last night we went out to McKenzie Towne (35km each way - we love to pester the suburban family members about the commute) to attend John's birthday dinner.

Dah spread, including a lovely pinot, lamb chops, and smashed potatoes.

Probably John's all-time fave dish, tomato and boccacini salad (with five kinds of fresh basil, grown by Fiona herself!).

Uncle John-John and Sloaner (the latter all hepped up on the special Cherry Sugar Bomb chocolate bars Fiona imported from Australia, special for John's birthday)

John Bristowe, birthday portrait. May 2006

And happy birthday also to John Johnston! 37 years old! (Photos to come tonight - we're taking John out for dinner to celebrate his day!)

Whoot - happy day to you folks!

Categories: Family | Friends

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

The Months Flew By

I am totally borrowing this idea from Sean & Keitha over at House of Hot Sauce, who had a similarly quiet few months on their blog. From Christmas to mid-March it was pretty quiet around this url. Here's what we were up to:

- Christmas!

Thab came to town with Seung-Yi and we managed to cross paths in the airport when she was on her way back to Toronto and Margo was coming in from Nova Scotia! Posing in front of the giant Sam Livingston head at YYC.

Official Chez Bristowe Turner family Christmas photo. I think Turner and I are on our way out for a date or a party or something here, Sloaner to stay home with Gamma.

Strawberry Hill, winter wonderland edition. Christmas 2006.

Christmas Eve Dinner with all the trimmings, fixings, doo-dads, and whatnots.

This brass planter was my gift to Granny Val on Christmas Day - presented with a bonus Sloaner in on the deal.

Margo and John came to Calgary, we rented a giant SUV and drove out en masse to Nakusp for the holidays. Uncle Johnny-John and Cousin Liam joined us the day after Christmas. There were toboggan parties and Granny Val's birthday, Thomas the train presents and dogs aplenty, trips up to the spring, a fab snowmobile/drinkfest up at the Gustafsons', a ski day down in Rossland, a German meal 'in town' (fancy-fancy!), Grampa/Oompa got a bit upset and threw a few things down the stairs and had to be taken back to Nelson in the middle of the night, and in the end we fortuitously made our departure just ahead of what ended up being a Gi-Gan-Tic storm which shut down the Trans Canada Highway in every direction only 24 hours later.

- Happy New year! We rang in the new year in Nakusp, in the fine company of Granny Val and Papa Mike, Turner's parents Margo and John, and Turner's brother John and cousin Liam. My new year's resolution was to go on this food-combining plan that I've done in the past and works well for me: no sugar, no caffeine, no alcohol, no white starch (white bread, white rice, corn), lots of vegetables and fruit, and you seperate eating 'carbohydrates' and 'proteins'. In the end these categories contain foods that of course include various amounts of both, but in essence you're separating meat/cheese/oil and carbs, eating them three hours apart. I've lost 35lbs so far: 20lbs to go to hit my pre-Sloane's-birth weight.

- We switched phone & internet companies. I've long hated Telus, the company that refused to allow unlimited long distance into Alberta until approx. 8 months ago (Ontario and the rest of Canada have had the $20/mo plan since, oh, 1995). Great ads, shitty service and idiotic billing. Our internet bill came in differently every month. When I'd call to ask/complain, the operators would do some kind of complex math on the phone and tell me that it all worked out to the same amount per month over time, so shut up about it already. So when Shaw came out with a bundle that allowed you dedicated phone service (with your same telephone number as before), plus internet, plus cable for less than my previous internet + phone service from Telus, we wuz like, SIGN US UP. Of course, there've been some snags. Telus wants their modem back. They didn't shut off the internet service and continue to charge us for it - this one is going to end up in small claims court, unfortunately. And the "Retention Department" keeps calling to try to woo us back. I tell them that if they'd like us to think better of their company perhaps they might start by STOPPING CHARGING ME FOR INTERNET SERVICE I'M NOT USING.

- In mid-January we billetted an actor who was here for the One Yellow Rabbit High Performance Rodeo theatre festival. Kevin of Albequerque's Tricklock Theatre was neat and tidy, interesting to talk to, left the house early every day under his own steam and came home late (but quiet) at night, and when we attended the show we realized he was also the lead character (and damn good at his job, too). After the many many many kindnesses of strangers we've availed ourselves of over the years in foreign locales, we felt good about giving back to the international travel karma jar.

- Cousin Jessica came to visit again. We've been seeing lots more of Jess since Leo's stroke, obviously. When she arrived in late January Sloane and I decided to decamp out to Brucio's in Douglasdale, the better to spend time with her. Also to give Turner some space at home to write and wander around bleary-eyed and writer-like, without wife and child demanding his attention in the midst of this, the mid-home-stretch of the book writing process. So out to Douglasdale we went, and Jess guest-starred as the hookah-smoking lass in one of my photo shoots for Swerve, and Uncle Larry arrived from Aylmer for a visit too, and we had a good ol' family reunion there in south Calgary.

- We had our first-ever Sunday brunch. I'd been feeling decidedly out of the socializing loop, and Turner was getting that nocturnal lemur-locked-in-the-basement look he takes on after a long stretch of working solitude. Obviously we needed to rectify the situation somehow. Going out at night is expensive and inconvenient and requires a babysitter, besides interfering with our patented (and necessary) "third shift" of work after Sloane goes to bed. So there had to be some other way to see people... and to get Sloane involved... and finally we hit upon the idea of Sunday brunch. Having people over. Eating, and some potluck stuff too so we weren't completely swamped with prep. Our first brunch was inaugerated on Sunday January 21st. Although we forgot to invite a few people (and didn't realize we'd forgotten to invite them until we started to wonder why they hadn't shown up yet), it was a great first go and eventually we hope to make the Bristowe Turner Sunday Brunch a monthly "thang". Here it is March already and we haven't had another one yet, so obviously we're working up to this goal slowly.

- From January 25th to February 9th, Sloaner and Auntie Alexis and I went to Costa Rica. Our travel partners included Brucio of course, and for the first week we were joined by Fifi and Brother John. Turner flew down for the second week of our stay. The route took us from Calgary to Houston, where we had a seven hour stopover (and a special guest-star appearance by my old friend Amy, Houston-based friend from long ago in France), and then on to San Jose, where we stayed the night. The following day we drove cross-country to the west coast and set up shop at Brucio's place in Faro Escondito, outside Jaco, on the west coast. We went swimming in the ocean, and watched fabulous sunsets from the balcony, and ate mountains of seafood, and Sloaner learned to swim in the (cold) hot tub, and we did bird-watching and snake-watching and monkey-watching and butterfly-watching, and we all learned the requisite 5 phrases in Spanish and used them prodigiously.

Ash (looking like a hatted dork) & Alexis (looking jolly & festive) at Playa Hermosa.

Sloane learns to swim with Grampa. Note the fancy "PolyOtter" suit with insertable "floaties", brought all the way from South Africa for Sloane by the ever-awesome Dr. Garth Kruger.

The Bristowe-Turnersesses at the fabulous hilltop restaurant at Villa Caletas.

- Upon arriving home in mid-February, the craziness cycle began anew with work. I started in on the provincial arts grant applications, due February 15th. Transcribing the interviews for Cryptic Moth I shoulda done in Costa Rica. Shooting the Swerve column photos. There was a lot of work to do. Sloane went to playschool during the day and Turner and I worked our brains out. I'll mention only once, and very briefly, that we were owed an absolutely tremendous amount of money by a variety of publications during this period. Everyone took their sweet goddamn time paying. Or, rather, not paying, as it turned out. We went through another terrible financial crisis. It was basically all I could think about day and night from about the beginning of December all the way through to mid-March. I hated a lot of people very intensely. I wrote three huge blog postings about it, all of which I deleted before I posted them to the site. I couldn't just post blithe bullshit about how great our lives are when our lives were really not great (Costa Rica trip notwithstanding). Financial stress is awful stress. Basically that's what caused the silence for three months.

- In the midst of all this, Brucio bequeathed to us the second-most-giant-est tv in all of creation. (Why? you may ask. Because Brucio got an EVEN BIGGER tv and didn't need the "little one" anymore.) If you know us, you know we don't even have cable. So to receive, unsolicited, a truly humungous television (it has three remote controls. THREE) was... unexpected. When you're truly poor and are suddenly given a six-foot-wide television that can be seen from two blocks away, a giant pulsing beacon of postmodern opiates beaming straight into your brain, it does make you wonder about the rationality of the universe. Can't afford groceries... maybe we can eat the images being shown on the television...? They do seem so life-like... We are not the ungrateful assholes we seem. Thank you Brucio for the giant tv.

Aforementioned giant tv. Those are Brucio's feet sticking out at bottom right. He's putting the approx. 1.7 billion cords into the right connections to make everything... "go".

- Then, in mid March, we got the Canada Council grant. $10,000 is nothing to sneeze at. I'd been running to the mailbox every day for four months, WILLING the Canada Council grant notification papers to arrive. Turner had basically given up hoping. But I knew we stood an excellent chance: I was once a funder, remember. And I also wrote the grant application. Then, one day, while Turner was away in Seattle at Lebowskifest and feeling guilty about spending money we didn't have on another trip for the book... it came. I tore it open. And called Turner. We were both able to sleep properly for the first time in months. If any of my readers have some kind of philosophical stand against government funding for the arts, you are personally invited to leave the blog right now and never come back. All hail the Canada Council.

And that kind of brings us to the present. That's what we did when I wasn't posting.

Categories: Ash | Calgary | Family | Married Life | Mom-ness

Monday, April 30, 2007

Visiting Leo

Yesterday Brucio, Sloane and I drove up to Ponoka to visit Leo. He was transferred up to the province's main brain injury centre there about two months ago, and it was my first visit to see him since he'd left Calgary.

Overall Leo's doing well and was in great spirits the whole time we were there, chuckling and joking around. He's able to stretch his right arm out, and he can move his right leg around a bit. For sure his speech has improved amazingly from when he was here in the city - he and Bruce were yukking it up about arranging for some hookey from therapy classes so Leo could watch the masters' cup this week on TSN (soccer) and he was right in there.

He does end up searching for words and losing the thread of the conversation sometimes, but he said he can watch and follow a whole movie now, something he wasn't able to do at Christmastime. And he remembers that Sloane is in the world, but can't remember her name unless we prompt him, and forgets whether she's a girl or a boy. He remembered Rooney, and that he was orange, and was sorry the coyotes got him.

On a tour of the facility, Leo is self-propelled (using his left leg).

In the common area outside his room - Leo's looking great.

Leo will likely be at Ponoka for another 8 - 10 months. Basically it's boot camp for his brain, hardcore therapies of all kinds to get him to the highest level of functioning possible before he's discharged. Go Leo go!

Categories: Family

Christmas At The Bristowe-Turnerssesses

Monday, December 18, 2006

A photo essay thusfar...

Categories: Family

Comments [6]

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

No Shirt No Shoes No Problem!

We, and by we I mean "me & Sloane", spend a lot of time naked. In the house, I mean. I like to tell people that I grew up in a nudist colony, though that's not strictly true. My dad was mainly clothed. The rest of us, enh. We ran around starkers. There are many amusing stories featuring this aspect of an upbringing in the Calgary Bristowe household, my favourite being The First Day Of School In 1990. I won't completely humiliate my brother by going into elaborate detail, but it involved a race to see who would get the first shower. I lost because I was laughing too hard. That's all I'll say.

Anyhoo, the tradition lives on, here at Chez Bristowe Turner. Which is to say, we're a nudist colony, but Turner is generally clothed. He doesn't like to prance around with us. I blame it on his Catholic upbringing. He's the one always nervously glancing to see if anyone is coming up the walk when Sloane and I are running around like idiots with no clothes. He's like the camp counsellor at Nekkidlaand (that's the name of our house when we're naked, inside). I should get him a sun hat and a whistle on a lanyard for xmas: hmmmm - note to self.

When we started the "bath before bed" tradition when Sloane was a few months old, I'd always give her some warning by calling out: "Bath-time for bay-beeeees!" and then, when the clothes start coming off, it's all, "Naaaaaaaaaaakeeeeddddd bay-beeeeeee! Naked baaaaay-bee!" We really celebrate being naked around here - strutting around, grinning, running in circles in the kitchen. And I was always very pleased with this endowment from how I was raised. You might have a big ass or tiny boobs or a bent nose or whatever, but it was always A-OK to waltz around in the nude if the mood struck.

As such I grew up thinking nudity wasn't a big deal. I'm not one of those, "Turn your back whilst I change my shirt" types. Meh. I just pull it off and change in public. Turner used to go, "Hey! Somebody might be watching!" To him, and to you, I'd say - C'mon, who really gives a crap? Do I know those people? Am I ever going to see these people again? Not a chance. Everyone's naked under their clothes. Big whup.

That's not to say I'm an exhibitionist. No. No no no. You will never be watching one of those skanky Girls Gone Wild videos and spy Ashley K. Bristowe on the shoulders of some drunken Calgary Flames fan, taking my shirt off. N. O. I take reasonable measures not to stand in full view of our livingroom picture window when I'm just out of the shower. I'm not out to titilate the general public, not in the slightest. That's for people with better pole-dancing abilities than moi. But I most certainly do stand by the notion that if it's my house, I'm gunna be naked a good percentage of the time (when there's no guests staying over), and if a fiddle song comes on, well, it's time to dance, naked or no. And Sloane agrees with me. (Turner, for his part, goes downstairs to work and leaves us to it.)

Anyway, Brucio was over the other day, and it was time for Sloane's bath, and he offered to bathe her now that she doesn't need someone sitting right in the tub, with her. So we were undressing her and as soon as she was naked, off she went for a few run-around laps of the livingroom. And as she took to her heels Brucio started to whistle this familiar snippet. It's impossible to render the tone and detail of whistling in words, so I won't even attempt it. But as he was whistling at Sloane's departing bummy backside, running away down the hall, I involuntarily began to smile. And the smile got bigger and bigger. And I turned to Turner, absolutely BEAMING. And he's all, "Whut? Whut is it? What's that?" and I was like, "That's... that whistle-tune my dad is doing... it's the theme song to 'naked kid running through the house'. I haven't heard that in YEARS!!"

And Brucio started to smile, and I kept smiling, and as Sloaner rounded the corner, heading into the next turn, I saw her grinning too. Turner rolled his eyes, but I bet he's working on his own "the rest of the family is naked" theme music now, down in the basement. Because obviously every family needs some in-house nudity dj-ing, probably best done by the guy in clothes.

Categories: Family | House | Sloane | Turner

Saturday, December 02, 2006

This Month's 2 Mag

Hurray hurray! After long last, it has arrived!

Waaaaaaayyyy back in... May? June? Turner and I wrote up a list of "lessons learned" when taking your baby overseas. I'd shot approximately 6 zillion photos while we were in Asia at the beginning of the year, so we came with the whole package: wisdom and illustrating images. Above we see the cover - ours is the "Baby On Board" feature.

That's our Sloaner and Turnbuckle, yukking it up on the beach in Tamil Nadu back in February. Turner isn't sure whether the open button on his shirt is giving off the "casual dad on the beach" look, or if it just radiates "slob". You may weigh in with your opinion in the comments, if you like.

The next pages feature a buncha photos from our Asia travels. We gave them about 45 shortlist photos to choose from, and interestingly enough all but one of the art director's choices were pictures taken within 48 hours of one another, and all in the same little town in south India (Mamallapuram, ftr).

But that other photo? It's the one near the fold on the left side of the page:

Who's that guy holding our daughter? ...Why, it's Uncle Phet!

The original photo is here - as you can see, Ji Hong is also in this photograph. Alas, they cut him out! Fame and fortu- wait, just fame - is DENIED! Boo!

But you know, the more we pondered the spread, the more it started to seem like they used this photo to make it look like Sloane was being bounced on the knee of some local dude in Bangkok. We'd explained to the editors that we were living with friends and this picture is even titled, "Beef place with Phet and Ji". ...It just seems funny to have someone we know so well in a lineup of photos meant to illustrate being very far away from home, and seeing Phet there, stripped of our shared context. Sloaner herself took one look at this photo and exclaimed, "It's-a Uncle Phet!" Yes, dear!

Enter Turner with the voice over:
In January of the year 2006 we flew to Bangkok. There we met a man named... Phet. His English was very understandable. When we asked where he was from, he would say only: "Pape". He and his family took us in and let us live in the guest suite of their meagre 3000 sq.ft. flat for ten weeks... On Saturdays we would walk to the end of his street to eat a thin gruel of noodles, fish, vegetables, spices, shrimp, pork, and three kinds of rice, with iced coffee on the side... He taught our daughter to walk. ...This is the only photograph of him we could find.

2 Magazine is available at most big newsstand shops, by subscription via their website, or if you've created a wedding registry at The Bay, it'll come to you, free, in the mail.

Categories: Asia 2006 | Family | Work work work

Friday, December 01, 2006

Cousin Jessica's New Man

Okay, I'll go ahead and say it: I'm coming out officially in favour of this new guy, "Brent".

He's apparently Jessica's "boyfriend".

People, I've known my cousin Jessica a looooooooong time (whole life - 11 mo = the elapsed time frame) and I'll tell you that I've only heard her utter "the b-word" a few times. A number of years ago she swore off, in my presence, all men. Sure, she dated, took home the random guy from the ska band in the Townships, and went to dinner with the "How YOU doin'" dude from Long Island. Etcetera.

But to really like somebody? Nah. Jess had it all figured out and what she'd figured was this: fuhgetaboutit.

And I'll tell you whut, my cousin Jess can eat you alive. This is the woman who wore a "SLUT" tiara to my wedding (with my unreserved blessing!) and braved the mosh pit of judgement from the uninitiated with nothing less than total teflon good cheer.

Jess and I, aged 6 and 7 respectively, thought in the summer of 1981 that the funniest thing in the world was "touching tongues" - sticking out our tongues, pushing them together, and then screeching at the "ooky" feeling. Later that same summer she taught me how to get through an electric farm fence (to steal raspberries and mint across the road in Ayer's Cliff, QC) by stepping cleanly on the lower wire while ducking under the higher one.

In 1994 I visited Jess in Victoria, where she was living on a Reserve with pit bulls in the yard and a crazily expensive vacuum cleaner from a travelling salesman sitting in the livingroom, unused.

What I'm telling you is that my Jess has been 'round the block and she knows shit from shit. So when she said that was it, no more boys - I believed her. It was final.

Frankly, I pity the unprepared fool who attempts to date any of the Bristowe women whilst lacking a) the BIGGIE-sized sense of humour, b) a bend-able but present backbone, c) a love & respect for Family (capital letters, note), and d) a willingness to give regular backrubs. Alas, our Jess was going to burn any idiot at the stake who even leered in her direction without a full command of the DSM V and its nuanced oversights.

Aha, but then came along Mr. Brent.

I present to you Exhibit A, a photograph taken in my very own livingroom:

Notice the hand-on-knee, all caring-like. And dig the Jessica in this photo! Calm! Cool! Collected! A completely calm, cool, collected version of my cousin Jessica the world has never seen! I bring you photographic evidence!

Also - please notice my cousin's dreadful hair roots situation as demonstrated in the above photo. The girl has brown hair, in case you haven't already guessed. She looks great in brown hair. "Natural", even. But you'll notice that at some point in the past she coloured her hair a sort of light-brown/blonde-'ish' colour for some reason - that's her business. It's been a while in any case, judging from the roots. The exact point at which she decided not to get her roots re-done? I would hazard a guess that it coincides quite nicely with the nary-a-few-months-old relationship with Mr. Brent. Certainly not a coincidence, I'd say. A woman who is comfortable with her natural hair roots growing in is a woman in love, a wise friend has always said. (I'm making that up, but I'm okay with lying to suit my point - it's my website, after all.)

Here I also present Exhibit B, the message Mr. Brent put on Leo's Care Pages website:

Thanks Guys
Brent Lake November 30, 2006 at 12:17 AM EST

I kinda' thought that this was as good a forum as anywhere to extend my gratitude to everyone I met in Calgary. When I met Jess, I found a really down-to-earth, brilliant woman that, the more I knew her, the deeper her character became. As I found out in Calgary, she wasn't the only one. Bruce, you extended your hospitality and your support to Jess & I without hesitation. You even drove in -40 temperatures to catch our flight. Bruce, I can't thank you enough. Ashley, Turner & Sloane: The most adorable and welcoming family ever. You guys were so cool and fun to hang out with. And little Sloaner will take your mind off of any troubles you're having. Cutest kid, EVER! She taught me some calculus...
Thanks you guys. We'll see you again, soon.

To Leo,
This wasn't how I planned to meet you. I love & cherish your daughter more than anything in this world. Your little girl has done so much behind the scenes, both in Calgary and here in Vancouver. You should be so proud of her. She is truly amazing.

I look forward to sittin' on the porch and us gettin' to know each other a lot better. Get well real soon, ya here.

***

We can forgive him the "ya here" part, right? Because I tell you, as far as I can see it's the first mistake he's made. And I tell you, I like a man who loves my cousin like this man loves my cousin.

Don't youses dare elope, I want the party.

Categories: Family

Update on Leo

For those of you who know Uncle Leo (or are just interested, anyway), you can check out http://www.carepages.com and search "Leo Bristowe" - we've set up a page for him there where we post updates and photos, and friends & family can insert messages. (I would give you the direct link but to view the page you have to sign in. It's free, and they don't seem to send you any spam, so if you're interested -- go ahead and sign up.) Brucio religiously prints everything out daily and takes it to Uncle Leo for his perusal, and Leo's many many MANY friends and fans from around the world have sent their greetings. It's been awe-inspiring to see the outpouring of love and concern. You too can send Uncle Leo a message -- don't hesitate, every brain cell counts, so try your best to trigger a reaction.

I'm not going to update Leo's condition on a regular basis here. For now, suffice to say that he's doing 'much better' from a medical point of view. I'm not going to lie to you - he's paralysed down his right side, and he can't speak very clearly. The risk of another stroke is ever-present, because the first one was a "bleed" (rather than a clotting, which can be controlled with drugs). But he's clearly "in there" - he knows who we are, he knows what has happened, he's frustrated, and he's fighting hard. The nurses are optimistic. He won't be running any 4-minute miles... uh, ever - but they seem very satisfied with his progress and we even have a mole in the blood lab, an old friend of Leo's from Montreal who "happens" (wink-wink, nudge-nudge) to have full access. Go Marjie!

I'm not going to post any photos of Leo - I know he'd hate me taking pictures of him in this condition. But he looks the same -- just horizontal, and no goatee/beard anymore (the nurses shaved it off!). Otherwise, sameo sameo.

Keep going Leo! We're rooting for you!

Early bits of the photo collage, and messages from Uncle Anders and other visitors...

Part one of the windowsill flower collection...

That's Brent's arm helping me present Part two of Leo's windowsill flower collection.

Categories: Family